Note return to page 1 1This prologue, after the first copy was published in 1597, received several alterations, both in respect of correctness and versification. In the folio it is omitted.—The play was originally performed by the Right Hon. the Lord of Hunsdon his servants. In the first of King James I. was made an act of parliament for some restraint or limitation of noblemen in the protection of players, or of players under their sanction. Steevens. Under the word Prologue, in the copy of 1599, is printed Chorus, which I suppose meant only that the prologue was to be spoken by the same person who personated the chorus at the end of the first Act. The original prologue, in the quarto of 1597, stands thus: “Two household frends, alike in dignitie,   “In faire Verona, where we lay our scene, “From civill broyles broke into enmitie,   “Whose civill warre makes civill handes uncleane. “From forth the fatall loynes of these two foes   “A paire of starre-crost lovers tooke their life; “Whose misadventures, piteous ouerthrowes,   “(Through the continuing of their fathers' strife, “And death-markt passage of their parents' rage,)   “Is now the two howres traffique of our stage. “The which if you with patient eares attend,   “What here we want, wee'll studie to amend.” Malone

Note return to page 2 2&lblank; we'll not carry coals.] Dr. Warburton very justly observes, that this was a phrase formerly in use to signify the bearing injuries; but, as he has given no instances in support of his declaration, I thought it necessary to subjoin the following. So, Skelton: “&lblank; You, I say, Julian, “Wyll you beare no coles?” Again, Nash, in his Have With You to Saffron Walden, 1595, says: “We will bear no coles, I warrant you.” Again, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 2nd part, 1602: “He has had wrong, and if I were he, I would bear no coles.” Again, in Law Tricks, or, Who Would Have Thought It? a comedy, by John Day, 1608: “I'll carry coals an you will, no horns.” Again, in May-Day, a comedy, by Chapman, 1610: “You must swear by no man's beard but your own; for that may breed a quarrel: above all things, you must carry no coals.” And again, in the same play: “Now my ancient being a man of an un-coal-carrying spirit,” &c. Again, in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “Here comes one that will carry coals; ergo, will hold my dog.” And, lastly, in the poet's own King Henry V.: “At Calais they stole a fireshovel; I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals.” Again, in The Malcontent, 1604: “Great slaves fear better than love, born naturally for a coal-basket.” Steevens. This phrase continued to be in use down to the middle of the last century. In a little satirical piece of Sir John Birkenhead, intitled, Two Centuries [of Books] of St. Paul's Churchyard, &c. published after the death of King Charles I. No. 22, p. 50, is inserted, “Fire, fire! a small manual, dedicated to Sir Arthur Haselridge; in which it is plainly proved by a whole chauldron of Scripture, that John Lillburn will not carry coals.” By Dr. Gouge. Percy. Collier was a very ancient term of abuse. “Hang him, foul collier!” says Sir Toby Belch, speaking of the devil, in the fourth Act of Twelfth-Night. Any person, therefore, who would bear to be called a collier, was said to carry coals. It afterwards became descriptive of any one who would endure a gibe or flout. So, in Churchyard's Farewell to the World, 1598: “He made him laugh, that lookt as he would sweare; “He carried coales, that could abide no gest.” Steevens. The phrase should seem to mean originally, We'll not submit to servile offices; and thence secondarily, We'll not endure injuries. Malone.

Note return to page 3 *Quarto A, Ile carrie no coales; and Quarto A, No, for if you doe you should be a collier.

Note return to page 4 *Quarto A, If I be in choler Ile draw.

Note return to page 5 †Quarto A, Thou't run away.

Note return to page 6 3&lblank; cruel with the maids;] The first folio reads—civil with the maids. Johnson. So does the quarto 1599; but the word is written ciuill. It was manifestly an error of the press. The first copy furnishes no help, the passage there standing thus: “Ile play the tyrant; He first begin with the maids, and off with their heads:” but the true reading is found in the undated quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 7 *Quarto A, the.

Note return to page 8 †Quarto A, Thou shalt see I am a bull.

Note return to page 9 4&lblank; poor John.] Is hake, dried, and salted. Malone.

Note return to page 10 5&lblank; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.] The word two, which was inadvertently omitted by the compositor in the quarto 1599, and of course in the subsequent impressions, I have restored from the first quarto of 1597, from which, in almost every page, former editors have drawn many valuable emendations in this play. The disregard of concord is in character. It should be observed, that the partizans of the Montague family wore a token in their hats, in order to distinguish them from their enemies, the Capulets. Hence throughout this play, they are known at a distance. This circumstance is mentioned by Gascoigne, in a Devise of a Masque, written for the Right Honourable Viscount Mountacute, 1575: “And for a further proofe, he shewed in hys hat “Thys token which the Mountacules did beare alwaies, for that “They covet to be knowne from Capels, where they pass, “For ancient grutch whych long ago 'tweene these two houses was.” Malone.

Note return to page 11 *Quarto A, I fear them no more than thou; but draw.

Note return to page 12 6&lblank; I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.] So it signifies in Randolph's Muses' Looking-Glass, Act III. Sc. III. p. 45: “Orgylus. To bite his thumb at me. “Argus. Why should not a man bite his thumb? “Orgylus. At me? were I scorn'd to see men bite their thumbs; “Rapiers and daggers,” &c. Grey. Dr. Lodge, in a pamphlet called Wits Miserie, &c. 1596, has this passage: “Behold next I see Contempt marching forth, giving me the fico with his thombe in his mouth.” In a translation from Stephens's Apology for Herodotus, in 1607, p. 142, I meet with these words: “It is said of the Italians, if they once bite their fingers' ends in a threatening manner, God knows, if they set upon their enemie face to face, it is because they cannot assail him behind his backe.” Perhaps Ben Jonson ridicules this scene of Romeo and Juliet, in his New Inn: “Huff. How, spill it? “Spill it at me? “Tip. I reck not, but I spill it.” Steevens. This mode of quarrelling appears to have been common in our author's time. “What swearing is there, (says Decker, describing the various groupes that daily frequented the walks of St. Paul's Church,) what shouldering, what justling, what jeering, what byting of thumbs, to beget quarrels!” The Dead Term, 1608. Malone. These speeches are thus given in quarto A: “1. Ile tell thee what Ile do; as I go by, Ile bite my thumb, which is disgrace enough if they suffer it. 2. Content; go thou by and bite thy thumb, and Ile come after and frown.” Boswell.

Note return to page 13 7Enter Benvolio,] Much of this scene is added since the first edition; but probably by Shakspeare, since we find it in that of the year 1599. Pope.

Note return to page 14 *Quarto A, say I.

Note return to page 15 8&lblank; here comes one of my master's kinsmen.] Some mistake has happened in this place; Gregory is a servant of the Capulets, and Benvolio was of the Montague faction. Farmer. Perhaps there is no mistake. Gregory may mean Tybalt, who enters immediately after Benvolio, but on a different part of the stage. The eyes of the servant may be directed the way he sees Tybalt coming, and in the mean time, Benvolio enters on the opposite side. Steevens.

Note return to page 16 †Folio omits sir.

Note return to page 17 ‡Folio, and quarto A, B, washing.

Note return to page 18 9&lblank; thy swashing blow.] Ben Jonson uses this expression in his Staple for News: “I do confess a swashing blow.” In The Three Ladies of London, 1584, Fraud says: “I will flaunt and brave it after the lusty swash.” Again, in As You Like It: “I'll have a martial and a swashing outside.” To swash seems to have meant to be a bully, to be noisily valiant. So, Green, in his Card of Fancy, 1608: “&lblank; in spending and spoiling, in swearing and swashing.” Barrett, in his Alvearie, 1580, says, that “to swash is to make a noise with swordes against tergats” Steevens.

Note return to page 19 *Folio, draw.

Note return to page 20 1Clubs, bills, &c.] When an affray arose in the streets, clubs was the usual exclamation. See As You Like It, Act V. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 21 2Give me my long sword,] The long sword was the sword used in war, which was sometimes wielded with both hands. Johnson. See Merry Wives of Windsor, Act. II. Sc. I. Malone. This long sword is mentioned in The Coxcomb, a comedy by Beaumont and Fletcher, where the justice says: “Take their confessions, and my long sword; “I cannot tell what danger we may meet with.” Chapman, without authority from Homer, has equipped Neptune with this weapon: “King Neptune, with his long sword &lblank;.” Iliad xv. It appears that it was once the fashion to wear two swords of different sizes at the same time. So, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “Peter Salamander, tie up your great and your little sword.” The little sword was the weapon commonly worn, the dress sword. Steevens. The little sword was probably nothing more than a dagger. Malone.

Note return to page 22 3Instead of this scene, in the quarto there is merely the following stage direction: “They draw, to them enters Tybalt, they fight, to them the Prince, old Montague and his wife, old Capulet and his wife, and other citizens, and part them.” Boswell.

Note return to page 23 4&lblank; mis-temper'd weapons &lblank;] Are angry weapons. So, in King John: “This inundation of mis-temper'd humour,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 24 *Folio, broyles.

Note return to page 25 †Quarto A, the reason of your fault.

Note return to page 26 4To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.] This name the poet found in the Tragicall History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. It is there said to be the castle of the Capulets. Malone.

Note return to page 27 *Quarto A, peept through.

Note return to page 28 5Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,] The same thought occurs in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. x.: “Early before the morn with cremosin ray   “The windows of bright heaven opened had, “Through which into the world the dawning day   “Might looke,” &c. Steevens. Again, in Summa Totalis; or All in All, or The Same for Ever, 4to. 1607: “Now heaven's bright eye (awake by Vespers sheene) “Peepes through the purple windowes of the East.” Holt White.

Note return to page 29 6That most are busied, &c.] Edition 1597. Instead of which it is in the other editions thus: “&lblank; by my own, “Which then most fought, where most might not be found, “Being one too many by my weary self, “Pursu'd my humour,” &c. Pope.

Note return to page 30 7And gladly shunn'd, &c.] The ten lines following, not in edition 1597, but in the next of 1599. Pope.

Note return to page 31 8Ben. Have you impórtun'd, &c.] These two speeches also omitted in edition 1597, but inserted in 1599. Pope.

Note return to page 32 9Or dedicate his beauty to the same.] Old copy—same. When we come to consider, that there is some power else besides balmy air, that brings forth, and makes the tender buds spread themselves, I do not think it improbable that the poet wrote: Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Or, according to the more obsolete spelling, sunne; which brings it nearer to the traces of the corrupted text. Theobald. I cannot but suspect that some lines are lost, which connected this simile more closely with the foregoing speech: these lines, if such there were, lamented the danger that Romeo will die of his melancholy, before his virtues or abilities were known to the world. Johnson. I suspect no loss of connecting lines. An expression somewhat similar occurs in Timon, Act IV. Sc. II.: “A dedicated beggar to the air.” I have, however, adopted Theobald's emendation. Mr. M. Mason observes “that there is not a single passage in our author where so great an improvement of language is obtained, by so slight a deviation from the text.” Steevens. Dr. Johnson's conjecture is, I think, unfounded; the simile relates solely to Romeo's concealing the cause of his melancholy, and is again used by Shakspeare in Twelfth Night: “&lblank; She never told her love, “But let concealment, like a worm i'th' bud, “Feed on her damask cheek.” In the last Act of this play our poet has evidently imitated the Rosamond of Daniel; and in the present passage might have remembered the following lines in one of the Sonnets of the same writer, who was then extremely popular. The lines, whether remembered by our author or not, add such support to Mr. Theobald's emendation, that I should have given it a place in my text, but that the other mode of expression was not uncommon in Shakspeare's time: “And whilst thou spread'st unto the rising sunne, “The fairest flower that ever saw the light, “Now joy thy time, before thy sweet be done.” Daniel's Sonnets, 1594. A similar phraseology to that of my text may be found in Daniel's 14th, 32d, 44th, and 53d Sonnets. Malone.

Note return to page 33 1Is the day so young?] i. e. is it so early in the day? The same expression (which might once have been popular) I meet with in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “It is yet young nyghte, or there is yet moche of the nyghte to come.” Steevens.

Note return to page 34 2&lblank; to his will!] Sir. T. Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read—to his ill. The present reading has some obscurity; the meaning may be, that love finds out means to pursue his desire. That the blind should find paths to ill is no great wonder. Johnson. It is not unusual for those who are blinded by love to overlook every difficulty that opposes their pursuit. Nichols. What Romeo seems to lament is, that love, though blind, should discover pathways to his will, and yet cannot avail himself of them; should perceive the road which he is forbidden to take. The quarto, 1597, reads: “Should, without laws, give path-ways to our will!” i. e. being lawless itself, prescribe laws to others. Steevens. This passage seems to have been misapprehended. Benvolio has lamented that the god of love, who appears so gentle, should be a tyrant.—It is no less to be lamented, adds Romeo, that the blind god should yet be able to direct his arrows at those whom he wishes to hit, that he should wound whomever he wills, or desires to wound. Malone.

Note return to page 35 3Why then, O brawling love! &c.] Of these lines neither the sense nor occasion is very evident. He is not yet in love with an enemy; and to love one and hate another is no such uncommon state, as can deserve all this toil of antithesis. Johnson. Had Dr. Johnson attended to the letter of invitation in the next scene, he would have found that Rosaline was niece to Capulet. Anonymous. Every sonnetteer characterises Love by contrarieties. Watson begins one of his canzonets: “Love is a sowre delight, a sugred griefe, “A living death, an ever-dying life,” &c. Turberville makes Reason harangue against it in the same manner: “A fierie frost, a flame that frozens is with ise! “A heavie burden light to beare! A vertue fraughte with “vice!” &c. Immediately from The Romaunt of the Rose: “Loue it is an hateful pees, “A free aquitaunce without reles,— “An heavie burthen light to beare, “A wicked wawe awaie to weare; “And health full of maladie, “And charitie full of envie;— “A laughter that is weping aie, “Rest that trauaileth night and daie,” &c. This kind of antithesis was very much the taste of the Provençal and Italian poets; perhaps it might be hinted by the ode of Sappho preserved by Longinus. Petrarch is full of it: “Pace non trovo, e non hó far guerra; “E temo, e spero, e ardo, e son un ghiaccio; “E volo sopra'l ciel, e ghiaccio in terra; “E nulla stringo, e tutto'l mondo abbraccio,” &c. Sonnet 105. Sir Thomas Wyat gives a translation of this sonnet, without any notice of the original, under the title of Description of the Contrarious Passions in a Louer, amongst the Songs and Sonnettes, by the Earle of Surrey, and others, 1574. Farmer.

Note return to page 36 *Folio, and quartos B, C, well-seeing; quarto A, best-seeming.

Note return to page 37 4Why, such is love's transgression.] Such is the consequence of unskilful and mistaken kindness. Johnson.

Note return to page 38 *Folio, made.

Note return to page 39 5Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;] The author may mean being purg'd of smoke, but it is perhaps a meaning never given to the word in any other place. I would rather read,— Being urg'd, a fire sparkling—. Being excited and inforced. To urge the fire is the technical term. Johnson. Dr. Akenside in his Hymn to Cheerfulness, has the same expression: “Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire, “And bid the joyless day retire.” Reed. Again, in Chapman's version of the 21st Iliad: “And as a caldron, under put with store of fire— “Bavins of sere wood urging it,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 40 6Being vex'd, &c.] As this line stands single, it is likely that the foregoing or following line that rhymed to it is lost. Johnson. It does not seem necessary to suppose any line lost. In the former speech about love's contrarieties, there are several lines which have no other to rhyme with them; as also in the following, about Rosaline's chastity. Steevens.

Note return to page 41 †Quarto A, a sea raging with a lover's tears.

Note return to page 42 7Tell me in sadness,] That is, tell me gravely, tell me in seriousness. Johnson.

Note return to page 43 *Folio, that is.

Note return to page 44 †Quarto A, right.

Note return to page 45 8And, in strong proof, &c.] As this play was written in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, I cannot help regarding these speeches of Romeo as an oblique compliment to her majesty, who was not liable to be displeased at hearing her chastity praised after she was suspected to have lost it, or her beauty commended in the 67th year of her age, though she never possessed any when she was young. Her declaration that she would continue unmarried, increases the probability of the present supposition. Steevens. “&lblank; in strong proof &lblank;” In chastity of proof, as we say in armour of proof. Johnson.

Note return to page 46 ‡Folio, uncharmed.

Note return to page 47 9She will not stay the siege of loving terms,] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; “To love's alarm it will not ope the gate.” Malone.

Note return to page 48 §Quarto A, exit.

Note return to page 49 1&lblank; with beauty dies her store.] Mr. Theobald reads—“With her dies beauty's store;” and is followed by the two succeeding editors. I have replaced the old reading, because I think it at least as plausible as the correction. She is rich, says he, in beauty, and only poor in being subject to the lot of humanity, that her store, or riches can be destroyed by death, who shall, by the same blow, put an end to beauty. Johnson. Mr. Theobald's alteration may be countenanced by the following passage in Swetnam Arraign'd, a comedy, 1620: “Nature now shall boast no more “Of the riches of her store; “Since, in this her chiefest prize, “All the stock of beauty dies.” Again, in the 14th Sonnet of Shakspeare: “Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.” Again, in Massinger's Virgin-Martyr: “&lblank; with her dies “The abstract of all sweetness that's in woman.” Steevens. Yet perhaps the present reading may be right, and Romeo means to say, in his quaint jargon, That she is poor, because she leaves no part of her store behind her, as with her all beauty will die. M. Mason. Words are sometimes shuffled out of their places at the press; but that they should be at once transposed and corrupted, is highly improbable. I have no doubt that the old copies are right. She is rich in beauty; and poor in this circumstance alone, that with her, beauty will expire; her store of wealth [which the poet has already said was the fairness of her person,] will not be transmitted to posterity, inasmuch as she will “lead her graces to the grave, and leave the world no copy.” Malone.

Note return to page 50 2She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste;] So, in our author's first Sonnet: “And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.” Malone.

Note return to page 51 3For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity.] So, in our author's third Sonnet: “Or who is he so fond will be the tomb “Of his self-love, to stop posterity?” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “What is thy body but a swallowing grave, “Seeming to bury that posterity, “Which by the rights of time thou need'st must have!” Malone.

Note return to page 52 4&lblank; wisely too fair, &c.] There is in her too much sanctimonious wisdom united with beauty, which induces her to continue chaste with the hopes of attaining heavenly bliss. Malone. None of the following speeches of this scene are in the first edition of 1597. Pope.

Note return to page 53 5Do I live dead,] So, Richard the Third: “&lblank; now they kill me with a living death.”

Note return to page 54 6To call hers, exquisite, in question more:] That is, to call hers, which is exquisite, the more into my remembrance and contemplation. It is in this sense, and not in that of doubt, or dispute, that the word question is here used. Heath. More into talk; to make her unparalleled beauty more the subject of thought and conversation. Question means conversation. So, in the Rape of Lucrece: “And after supper long he questioned “With modest Lucrece.” And in many passages in our author's plays. Malone.

Note return to page 55 7These happy masks, &c.] i. e. the masks worn by female spectators of the play. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Beggar's Bush, Sc. ult.: “We stand here for an Epilogue. “Ladies, your bounties first! the rest will follow; “For women's favours are a leading alms: “If you be pleas'd, look cheerly, throw your eyes “Out at your masks.” Former editors print those instead of these, but without authority. Steevens. These happy masks, I believe, means no more than the happy masks. Such is Mr. Tyrwhitt's opinion. See Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. IV. Malone.

Note return to page 56 8What doth her beauty serve,] i. e. what end does it answer? In modern language we say—“serve for.” Steevens.

Note return to page 57 9&lblank; thou canst not teach me to forget.] “Of all afflictions taught a lover yet, “'Tis sure the hardest science, to forget.” Pope's Eloisa. Steevens.

Note return to page 58 1And Montague is bound &lblank;] This speech is not in the first quarto. That of 1599 has—But Montague.—In that of 1609, and the folio, But is omitted. The reading of the text is that of the undated quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 59 *Quarto A, they.

Note return to page 60 *Quarto A, they.

Note return to page 61 2Let two more summers wither in their pride,] So, in our poet's 103d Sonnet: “&lblank; Three winters cold “Have from the forests shook three summers' pride &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 62 3And too soon marr'd are those so early made.] The quarto, 1597, reads:—And too soon marr'd are those so early married. Puttenham, in his Art of Poesy, 1589, uses this expression, which seems to be proverbial, as an instance of a figure which he calls the Rebound: “The maid that soon married is, soon marred is.” The jingle between marr'd and made is likewise frequent among the old writers. So, Sidney: “Oh! he is marr'd, that is for others made!” Spenser introduces it very often in his different poems. Steevens.

Note return to page 63 4She is the hopeful lady of my earth:] This line is not in the first edition. Pope. “She is the hopeful lady of my earth.” This is a Gallicism: Fille de terre is the French phrase for an heiress. King Kichard II. calls his land, i. e. his kingdom, his earth: “Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth.” Again: “So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth.” Earth in other old plays is likewise put for lands, i. e. landed estate. So, in A Trick to Catch the Old One, 1619: “A rich widow, and four hundred a year in good earth.” Again, in the Epistle Dedicatorie to Dr. Bright's Characterie, an Arte of Shorte, Swifte, and Secrete Writing by Character, 12mo. 1588: “And this my inuention being altogether of English yeeld, where your Majestie is the Ladie of the Soyle, it appertayneth of right to you onely.” Steevens. The explanation of Mr. Steevens may be right; but there is a passage in The Maid's Tragedy, which leads to another, where Amintor says: “This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel “A stark affrighted motion in my blood.” Here earth means corporal part. M. Mason. Again, in this play: “Can I go forward, when my heart is here? “Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.” Again, in our author's 146th Sonnet: “Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth &lblank;.”. Malone.

Note return to page 64 5My will to her consent is but a part;] To, in this instance, signifies in comparison with, in proportion to. So, in King Henry VIII.: “These are but switches to them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 65 6Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:] This nonsense should be reformed thus: Earth-treading stars that make dark even light: i. e. When the evening is dark, and without stars, these earthly stars supply their place, and light it up. So again, in this play: “Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night, “Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear.” Warburton. But why nonsense? is any thing more commonly said, than that beauties eclipse the sun? Has not Pope the thought and the word? “Sol through white curtains shot a tim'rous ray, “And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day.” Both the old and the new reading are philosophical nonsense; but they are both, and both equally, poetical sense. Johnson. I will not say that this passage, as it stands, is absolute nonsense; but I think it very absurd, and am certain that it is not capable of the meaning that Johnson attributes to it, without the alteration I mean to propose, which is, to read: Earth-treading stars that make dark, heaven's light. That is, earthly stars that outshine the stars of heaven, and make them appear dark by their own superior brightness. But, according to the present reading, they are earthly stars that enlighten the gloom of heaven. M. Mason. The old reading is sufficiently supported by a parallel passage in Churchyard's Shore's Wife, 1593: “My beautie blasd like torch or twinckling starre, “A liuely lamp that lends darke world some light.” Mr. M. Mason's explanation, however, may receive countenance from Sidney's Arcadia, book iii.: “Did light those beamy stars which greater light did dark.” Steevens.

Note return to page 66 7&lblank; do lusty young men feel &lblank;] To say, and to say in pompous words, that a young man shall feel as much in an assembly of beauties, as young men feel in the month of April, is surely to waste sound upon a very poor sentiment. I read: “Such comfort as do lusty yeomen feel.” You shall feel from the sight and conversation of these ladies, such hopes of happiness and such pleasure, as the farmer receives from the spring, when the plenty of the year begins, and the prospect of the harvest fills him with delight. Johnson. Young men are certainly yeomen. So, in A lytell Geste of Robyn Hode, printed by Wynken de Worde: “Robyn commaunded his wight young men. “Of lii. wyght yonge men. “Seuen score of wyght yonge men. “Buske you my mery yonge men.” In all these instances Copland's edition, printed not many years after, reads—yeomen. So again, in the ancient legend of Adam Bel, printed by Copland: “There met he these wight yonge men. “Now go we hence sayed these wight yong men. “Here is a set of these wyght yong men.” But I have no doubt that he printed from a more antiquated edition, and that these passages have accidentally escaped alteration, as we generally meet with “wyght yemen.” See also Spelman's Glossary; voce juniores. It is no less singular that in a subsequent act of this very play the old copies should, in two places, read “young trees” and “young tree,” instead of yew-trees, and yew-tree. Ritson. The following passages from Chaucer's Romaunt of the Rose, and Virgil's third Georgick, will support the present reading, and show the propriety of Shakspeare's comparison: for to tell Paris that he should feel the same sort of pleasure in an assembly of beauties, which young folk feel in that season when they are most gay and amorous, was surely as much as the old man ought to say: “&lblank; ubi subdita flamma medullis, “Vere magis (quia vere calor redit ossibus.)” “That it was May, thus dremid me, “In time of love and jolite, “That al thing ginnith waxin gay, &c.— “Then yong folke entendin aye, “For to ben gaie and amorous, “The time is then so savorous.” Romaunt of the Rose, v. 51, &c. Again, in The Romaunce of the Sowdon of Babyloyne, &c. MS. Penes Dr. Farmer. “Hit bifelle by twyxte marche and maye, “Whan kynde corage begynneth to pryke: “Whan frith and felde wexen gaye, “And every wight desirith his like; “When lovers slepen with opyn yee, “As nightingalis on grene tre, “And sore desire that thai cowde flye “That thay myghte with there love be,” &c, p. 2. Steevens. Our author's 99th Sonnet may also serve to confirm the reading of the text: “From you I have been absent in the spring, “When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim, “Hath put a spirit of youth in ev'ry thing.” Again, in Tancred and Gismund, a tragedy, 1592: “Tell me not of the date of Nature's days, “Then in the April of her springing age &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 67 8Inherit at my house;] To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare's age, is to possess. Malone.

Note return to page 68 9Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none.] The first of these lines I do not understand. The old folio gives no help; the passage is there, Which one more view. I can offer nothing better than this: “Within your view of many, mine, being one, “May stand in number,” &c. Johnson. “Such, amongst view of many, &c.” Thus the quarto, 1597. In the subsequent quarto of 1599, that of 1609, and the folio, the line was printed thus: “Which one [on] more view of many,” &c. Malone. A very slight alteration will restore the clearest sense to this passage. Shakspeare might have written the lines thus: Search among view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. i. e. Amongst the many you will view there, search for one that will please you: choose out of the multitude. This agrees exactly with what he had already said to him: “&lblank; Hear all, all see, “And like her most, whose merit most shall be.” My daughter (he proceeds) will, it is true, be one of the number, but her beauty can be of no reckoning (i. e. estimation) among those whom you will see here. Reckoning for estimation, is used before in this very scene: “Of honourable reckoning are you both.” Steevens. This interpretation is fully supported by a passage in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; Our compell'd sins “Stand more for number, than accompt.” i. e. estimation. There is here an allusion to an old proverbial expression, that one is no number. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, Part II.: “&lblank; to fall to one, “&lblank; is to fall to none, “For one no number is.” Again, in Marlowe's Hero and Leander: “One is no number.” Again, in Shakspeare's 136th Sonnet: “Among a number one is reckon'd none, “Then in the number let me pass untold.” The following lines in the poem on which the tragedy is founded, may add some support to Mr. Steevens's conjecture: “To his approved friend a solemn oath he plight,— “&lblank; every where he would resort where ladies wont to meet; “Eke should his savage heart like all indifferently, “For he would view and judge them all with unallured eye.— &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “No knight or gentleman of high or low renown “But Capulet himself had bid unto his feast, &c. “Young damsels thither flock, of bachelors a rout; “Not so much for the banquet's sake, as beauties to search out.” Malone. This passage is neither intelligible as it stands, nor do I think. it will be rendered so by Steeven's amendment.—“To search amongst view of many,” is neither sense nor English. The old folio, as Johnson tells us, reads— “Which one more view of many &lblank;.” And this leads us to the right reading, which I should suppose to have been this: “Whilst on more view of many, mine being one,” &c. With this alteration the sense is clear, and the deviation from the folio very trifling. M. Mason.

Note return to page 69 1&lblank; find those persons out, Whose names are written there,] Shakspeare has here closely followed the poem already mentioned: “No lady fair or foul was in Verona town, “No knight or gentleman of high or low renown, “But Capilet himself hath bid unto his feast, “Or by his name, in paper sent, appointed as a guest.” Malone.

Note return to page 70 2Find them out, whose names are written here?] The quarto, 1597, adds: “And yet I know not who are written here: I must to the learned to learn of them: that's as much as to say, the tailor,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 71 3&lblank; with another's languish:] This substantive is again found in Antony and Cleopatra.—It was not of our poet's coinage, occurring also (as I think) in one of Morley's songs, 1595: “Alas, it skills, not, “For thus I will not, “Now contented, “Now tormented, “Live in love and languish.” Malone.

Note return to page 72 4Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning,— Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.] So, in the poem: “Ere long the townish dames together will resort: “Some one of beauty, favour, shape, and of so lovely port, “With so fast-fixed eye perhaps thou may'st behold, “That thou shalt quite forget thy love and passions past of old. “And as out of a plank a nail a nail doth drive, “So novel love out of the mind the ancient love doth rive.” Again in our author's Coriolanus: “One fire drives out one fire; one nail one nail.” So, in Lyly's Euphues, 1580: “&lblank;a fire divided in twayne burneth flower;—one love expelleth another, and the remembrance of the latter quencheth the concupiscence of the first.” Malone. Veterem amorem novo, quasi clavum clavo repellere, is a morsel of very ancient advice; and Ovid also has assured us, that— “Alterius vires subtrahit alter amor.” Or,— “Successore novo truditur omnis amor.” Priorem flammam novus ignis extrudit, is also a proverbial phrase. Steevens.

Note return to page 73 5Your plantain leaf is excellent for that,] Tackius tells us, that a toad, before she engages with a spider, will fortify herself with some of this plant; and that, if she comes off wounded, she cures herself afterwards with it. Dr. Grey. The same thought occurs in Albumazar, in the following lines: “Help, Armellina, help! I'm fall'n i' the cellar: “Bring a fresh plantain leaf, I've broke my shin.” Again, in The Case is Alter'd, by Ben Johnson, 1609, a fellow who has had his head broke, says: “'Tis nothing, a fillip, a device: fellow Juniper, prithee get me a plantain.” The plantain leaf is a blood-stauncher, and was formerly applied to green wounds. Steevens.

Note return to page 74 6To supper; to our house.] The words to supper are in the old copies annexed to the preceding speech. They undoubtedly belong to the Servant, to whom they were transferred by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 75 7&lblank; crush a cup of wine.] This cant expression seems to have been once common among low people. I have met with it often in the old plays. So, in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “Fill the pot, hostess, &c. and we'll crush it.” Again, in Hoffman's Tragedy, 1631: “&lblank; we'll crush a cup of thine own country wine.” Again, in The Pinder of Wakefield, 1599, the Cobler says: “Come, George, we'll crush a pot before we part.” We still say, in cant language—to crack a bottle. Steevens.

Note return to page 76 8&lblank; in those crystal scales,] The old copies have—that crystal, &c. The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. I am not sure that it is necessary. The poet might have used scales for the entire machine. Malone.

Note return to page 77 9&lblank; let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid &lblank;] Your lady's love is the love you bear to your lady, which in our language is commonly used for the lady herself. Heath.

Note return to page 78 *Quartos A, B, seems.

Note return to page 79 1Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.] In all the old copies the greater part of this scene was printed as prose. Mr. Capell was the first who exhibited it as verse, and has been followed by all the subsequent editors, but perhaps erroneously. The reader shall judge by seeing a portion of one of the Nurse's speeches as it originally appeared. “Even or odde, of alle dayes in the yeare come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteene. Susan and she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; she was too good for me.—Nay, I do beare a braine, but as I said, when it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple of my dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole to see it teachie, and fall out with the dugge.” Boswell.

Note return to page 80 2&lblank; to my teen &lblank;] To my sorrow. Johnson. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. ix: “&lblank; for dread and doleful teen.” This old word is introduced by Shakspeare for the sake of the jingle between teen, and four, and fourteen. Steevens.

Note return to page 81 3'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;] But how comes the Nurse to talk of an earthquake upon this occasion? There is no such circumstance, I believe, mentioned in any of the novels from which Shakspeare may be supposed to have drawn his story; and therefore it seems probable, that he had in view the earthquake, which had really been felt in many parts of England, in his own time, viz. on the 6th of April, 1580. [See Stowe's Chronicle, and Gabriel Harvey's Letter in the Preface to Spenser's Works, edit. 1679.] If so, one may be permitted to conjecture, that Romeo and Juliet, or this part of it at least, was written in 1591; after the 6th of April, when the eleven years since the earthquake were completed; and not later than the middle of July, a fortnight and odd days before Lammas-tide. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 82 3Nay, I do bear a brain:] That is, I have a perfect remembrance or recollection. So, in The Country Captain, by the Duke of Newcastle, 1649, p. 51: “When these wordes of command are rotten, wee will sow some other military seedes; you beare a braine and memory.” Reed. So, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “Dash, we must bear some brain.” Again, in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, 1604: “&lblank; nay an I bear not a brain &lblank;.” Again, in Heywoods' Golden Age, 1611: “As I can bear a pack, so I can bear a brain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 83 4&lblank; could stand alone;] The 4to. 1597, reads: “could stand high lone,” i. e. quite alone, completely alone. So, in another of our author's plays, high fantastical means entirely fantastical. Steevens.

Note return to page 84 *Quarto A, up and down.

Note return to page 85 †Quarto A, Juliet ?.

Note return to page 86 †Quarto A, Juliet.

Note return to page 87 5&lblank; it stinted,] i. e. it stooped, it forbore from weeping. So, Sir Thomas North, in his translation of Plutarch, speaking of the wound which Antony received, says: “for the blood stinted a little when he was laid.” Again, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “Stint thy babbling tongue.” Again, in What You Will, by Marston, 1607: “Pish! for shame, stint thy idle chat. Again, in The Misfortunes of King Arthur, an ancient drama, 1587:— “&lblank; Fame's but a blast that sounds a while, “And quickly stints, and then is quite forgot.” Spenser uses this word frequently in his Fairy Queen. Steevens.

Note return to page 88 6Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose, &c.] This speech and tautology is not in the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 89 *Quarto A, And that same marriage is the theme I mean to talk of.

Note return to page 90 †Quarto B, How stand you affected.

Note return to page 91 7It is an honour &lblank;] The first quarto reads honour; the folio, hour. I have chosen the reading of the quarto. The word hour seems to have nothing in it that could draw from the Nurse that applause which she immediately bestows. The word honour was likely to strike the old ignorant woman, as a very elegant and discreet word for the occasion. Steevens. Honour was changed to hour in the quarto 1599. Malone.

Note return to page 92 8Well, &c.] Instead of this speech, the quarto 1597, has only one line: “Well, girl, the noble County Paris seeks thee for his wife.” Steevens.

Note return to page 93 *Quarto A, Well, girl: the noble countie Paris seeks thee for his wife.

Note return to page 94 9&lblank; a man of wax.] So, in Wily Beguiled: “Why, he's a man as one should picture him in wax.” Steevens. “&lblank; a man of wax.” Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax, as Mr. Steevens by a happy quotation has explained it. “When you, Lydia, praise the waxen arms of Telephus,” (says Horace,) [Waxen, well shaped, fine turned:] “With passion swells my fervid breast, “With passion hard to be supprest.” Dr. Bentley changes cerea into lactea, little understanding that the praise was given to the shape, not to the colour. S. W.

Note return to page 95 1Nurse.] After this speech of the Nurse, Lady Capulet in the old quarto says only: “Well, Juliet, how like you of Paris' love?” She answers, “I'll look to like,” &c. and so concludes the scene, without the intervention of that stuff to be found in the later quartos and the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 96 2La. Cap. What say you? &c.] This ridiculous speech is entirely added since the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 97 3Read o'er the volume, &c.] The same thought occurs in Pericles Prince of Tyre: “Her face the book of praises, where is read “Nothing but curious pleasures.” Steevens.

Note return to page 98 4Examine every married lineament, &c.] Thus the quarto 1599. The quarto 1609—several lineament. By the former of these phrases Shakspeare means—Examine how nicely one feature depends upon another, or accords with another, in order to produce that harmony of the whole face which seems to be implied in the word—content. In Troilus and Cressida, he speaks of “the married calm of states;” and in his 8th Sonnet has the same allusion: “If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, “By unions married, do offend thine ear.” So also, in Ronsard: “Phebus du milieu de la table, “Pour réjouir le front des dieux, “Marioit sa voix delectable “A son archet melodieux.” Again: “Le mariant aux haleines “De trompettes qui sont pleines “D'un son furieux et grave.” Steevens. This speech, as has been observed, is not in the quarto 1597. The reading of the text is that of the quarto 1599. The folio, after a later quarto, that of 1609, reads several lineament. I have no doubt that married was the poet's word, and that it was altered only because the printer of the quarto of 1609 did not understand it. Malone.

Note return to page 99 5&lblank; the margin of his eyes.] The comments on ancient books were always printed in the margin. So, Horatio in Hamlet says: “&lblank; I knew you must be edified by the margent,” &c. Steevens. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “But she, that never cop'd with stranger eyes, “Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, “Nor read the subtle shining secrecies, “Writ in the glassy margent of such books.” Malone.

Note return to page 100 6This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover:] This ridiculous speech is full of abstruse quibbles. The unbound lover, is a quibble on the binding of a book, and the binding in marriage; and the word cover is a quibble on the law phrase for a married woman, who is styled a femme couverte in law French. M. Mason.

Note return to page 101 7The fish lives in the sea; &c.] i. e. is not yet caught. Fish-skin covers to books anciently were not uncommon. Such is Dr. Farmer's explanation of this passage; and it may receive some support from what Ænobarbus says in Antony and Cleopatra: “The tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.” Steevens. The purport of the remainder of this speech, is to show the advantage of having a handsome person to cover a virtuous mind. It is evident therefore, that instead of “the fish lives in the sea,” we should read—“the fish lives in the shell.” For the sea cannot be said to be a beautiful cover to a fish, though a shell may. —I believe, that by the golden story, is meant no particular legend, but any valuable writing. M. Mason.

Note return to page 102 8That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;] The golden story is perhaps the golden legend, a book in the dark ages of popery much read, and doubtless often exquisitely embellished, but of which Canus, one of the popish doctors, proclaims the author to have been homo ferrei oris, plumbei cordis. Johnson. The poet may mean nothing more than to say, that those books are most esteemed by the world, where valuable contents are embellished by as valuable binding. Steevens.

Note return to page 103 *Quarto A, Well Juliet, how like you of Paris' love.

Note return to page 104 9I'll look to like, if looking liking move:] Such another jingle of words occurs in the second book of Sidney's Arcadia: “&lblank; and seeing to like, and liking to love, and loving straight” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 105 1&lblank; endart mine eye,] The quarto 1597 reads—“engage mine eye.” Steevens.

Note return to page 106 2Madam, &c.] Thus in the quarto 1597. “Madam, you are called for; supper is ready; the nurse cursed in the pantry; all things in extremity; make haste, for I must be gone to wait.” Boswell.

Note return to page 107 3&lblank; Mercutio,] Shakspeare appears to have formed this character on the following slight hint in the original story: “&lblank; another gentleman called Mercutio, which was a courtlike gentleman, very wel beloved of all men, and by reason of his pleasant and courteous behaviour was in al companies wel intertained.” Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. ii. p. 221. Steevens. Mercutio is thus described in the poem which Shakspeare followed: “At thone side of her chair her lover Romeo, “And on the other side there sat one call'd Mercutio; “A courtier that each where was highly had in price, “For he was courteous of his speech, and pleasant of device. “Even as a lion would among the lambs be bold, “Such was among the bashful maids Mercutio to behold. “With friendly gripe he seiz'd fair Juliet's snowish hand; “A gift he had, that nature gave him in his swathing band “That frozen mountain ice was never half so cold, “As were his hands, though ne'er so near the fire he did them hold.” Perhaps it was this last circumstance which induced our poet to represent Mercutio as little sensible to the passion of love, and “a jester at wounds which he never felt.” See Othello, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; This hand is moist, my lady;— “This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart; “Hot, hot, and moist.” Malone.

Note return to page 108 4The date is out of such prolixity:] i. e. Masks are now out of fashion. That Shakspeare was an enemy to these fooleries, appears from his writing none; and that his plays discredited such entertainments, is more than probable. Warburton. The diversion going forward at present is not a masque, but a masquerade. In Henry VIII. where the king introduces himself to the entertainment given by Wolsey, he appears, like Romeo and his companions, in a mask, and sends a messenger before, to make an apology for his intrusion. This was a custom observed by those who came uninvited, with a desire to conceal themselves for the sake of intrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of conversation. Their entry on these occasions was always prefaced by some speech in praise of the beauty of the ladies, or the generosity of the entertainer; and to the prolixity of such introductions, I believe Romeo is made to allude. So, in Histriomastix, 1610, a man expresses his wonder that the maskers enter without any compliment: “What come they in so blunt, without device?” In the accounts of many entertainments given in reigns antecedent to that of Elizabeth, I find this custom preserved. Of the same kind of masquerading, see a specimen in Timon, where Cupid precedes a troop of ladies with a speech. Steevens. Shakspeare has written a masque which the reader will find introduced in the 4th Act of The Tempest. It would have been difficult for the reverend annotator to have proved they were discontinued during any period of Shakspeare's life. Percy.

Note return to page 109 5Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,] The Tartarian bows, as well as most of those used by the Asiatick nations, resemble in their form the old Roman or Cupid's bow, such as we see on medals and bas reliefs. Shakspeare used the epithet to distinguish it from the English bow, whose shape is the segment of a circle. Douce.

Note return to page 110 6&lblank; like a crow-keeper;] The word crow-keeper is explained in King Lear, Act IV. Sc. VI. Johnson.

Note return to page 111 7Nor no without-book prologue, &c.] The two following lines are inserted from the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 112 8&lblank; for our entrance:] Entrance is here used as trisyllable; enterance. Malone.

Note return to page 113 9We'll measure them a measure,] i. e. a dance. Malone.

Note return to page 114 1Give me a torch,] The character which Romeo declares his resolution to assume, will be best explained by a passage in Westward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607: “He is just like a torch-bearer to maskers; he wears good cloaths, and is ranked in good company, but he doth nothing.” A torch-bearer seems to have been a constant appendage on every troop of masks. So, in the second part of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “&lblank; As on a masque; but for our torch-bearers, “Hell cannot rake so mad a crew as I.” Again, in the same play: “&lblank; a gallant crew, “Of courtly maskers landed at the stairs; “Before whom, unintreated, I am come, “And here prevented, I believe their page, “Who, with his torch is enter'd.” Before the invention of chandeliers, all rooms of state were illuminated by flambeaux which attendants held upright in their hands. This custom is mentioned by Froissart, and other writers who had the merit of describing every thing they saw. See a wooden cut introduced in the notes to the Winter's Tale, Act IV. Sc. III. To hold a torch, however, was anciently no degrading office. Queen Elizabeth's Gentlemen-Pensioners attended her to Cambridge, and held torches while a play was acted before her in the Chapel of King's College, on a Sunday evening. At an entertainment also, given by Louis XIV. in 1664, no less than 200 valets-de-pied were thus employed. Steevens. King Henry VIII. when he went masked to Wolsey's palace, (now Whitehall,) had sixteen torch-bearers. See Henry. III. Act I. Sc. IV.: Malone.

Note return to page 115 *Quarto A, Believe me, Romeo, I.

Note return to page 116 2Mer. You are a lover; &c.] The twelve following lines are not to be found in the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 117 3&lblank; so bound, I cannot bound, &c.] Let Milton's example, on this occasion, keep Shakspeare in countenance: “&lblank; in contempt “At one slight bound high over-leap'd all bound “Of hill,” &c. Paradise Lost, book iv. l. 180. Steevens.

Note return to page 118 4&lblank; should you burden love;] i. e. by sinking in it, you should, or would, burden love. Mr. Heath, on whose suggestion a note of interrogation has been placed at the end of this line in the late edition, entirely misunderstood the passage. Had he attended to the first two lines of Mercutio's next speech, he would have seen what kind of burdens he was thinking of. See also the concluding lines of Mercutio's long speech in p. 56. Malone.

Note return to page 119 5&lblank; doth quote deformities?] To quote is to observe. So, in Hamlet: “I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 120 6&lblank; let wantons, light of heart, &c.] Middleton has borrowed this thought in his play of Blurt Master-Constable, 1602: “&lblank; bid him, whose heart no sorrow feels, “Tickle the rushes with his wanton heels, “I have too much lead at mine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 121 7Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;] It has been already observed, that it was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes, before carpets were in use. See Henry IV. Part I. Act III. Sc. I. So Hentzner, in his Itinerary, speaking of Queen Elizabeth's presence-chamber at Greenwich, says: “The floor, after the English fashion, was strewed with hay,” meaning rushes. So, in The Dumb Knight, 1633: “Thou dancest on my heart, lascivious queen, “Even as upon these rushes which thou treadest.” The stage was anciently strewn with rushes. So, in Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609: “&lblank; on the very rushes when the comedy is to daunce.” Steevens. Shakspeare, it has been observed, gives the manners and customs of his own time to all countries and all ages. It is certainly true; but let it always be remembered that his contemporaries offended against propriety in the same manner. Thus, Marlowe, in his Hero and Leander: “She, fearing on the rushes to be flung, “Striv'd with redoubled strength &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 122 8&lblank; a grandsire phrase, &c.] The proverb which Romeo means, is contained in the line immediately following. To hold the candle, is a very common proverbial expression, for being an idle spectator. Among Ray's proverbial sentences, is this:— “A good candle-holder proves a good gamester.” Steevens. The proverb to which Romeo refers, is rather that alluded to in the next line but one. It appears from a passage in one of the small collections of Poetry, entitled Drolleries, of which I have lost the title, that “Our sport is at the best,” or at the fairest, meant, we have had enough of it. Hence it is that Romeo says, “I am done.” Dun is the mouse, I know not why, seems to have meant, Peace; be still! and hence it is said to be “the constable's own word;” who may be supposed to be employed in apprehending an offender, and afraid of alarming him by any noise. So, in the comedy of Patient Grissel, 1603: “What, Babulo! say you. Heere, master, say I, and then this eye opens; yet don is the mouse, lie still. What Babulo! says Grissel. Anone, say I, and then this eye lookes up; yet doune I snug againe.” Malone.

Note return to page 123 9I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,— The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.] An allusion to an old proverbial saying, which advises to give over when the game is at the fairest. Ritson. “&lblank; and I am done.” This is equivalent to phrases in common use—I am done for, it is over with me. Done is often used in a kindred sense by our author. Thus, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “&lblank; my mourning weeds are done.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; as soon decay'd and done, “As in the morning's dew.” Steevens.

Note return to page 124 1Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:] This poor obscure stuff should have an explanation in mere charity. It is an answer to these two lines of Romeo: “For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;—and “The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.” Mercutio, in his reply, answers the last line first. The thought of which, and of the preceding, is taken from gaming. “I'll be a candle-holder (says Romeo) and look on.” It is true, if I could play myself, I could never expect a fairer chance than in the company we are going to: but, alas! I am done. I have nothing to play with: I have lost my heart already. Mercutio catches at the word done, and quibbles with it, as if Romeo had said, The ladies indeed are fair, but I am dun, i. e. of a dark complexion. And so replies, Tut! dun's the mouse; a proverbial expression of the same import with the French, La nuit tous les chats son gris: as much as to say, You need not fear, night will make all your complexions alike. And because Romeo had introduced his observations with— “I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,” Mercutio adds to his reply, the constable's own word: as much as to say, If you are for old proverbs, I'll fit you with one; 'tis the constable's own word; whose custom was, when he summoned his watch, and assigned them their several stations, to give them what the soldiers call, the word. But this night-guard being distinguished for their pacifick character, the constable, as an emblem of their harmless disposition, chose that domestick animal for his word, which, in time, might become proverbial. Warburton.

Note return to page 125 2If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire &lblank;] A proverbial saying, used by Mr. Thomas Heywood, (Drue,) in his play, intitled The Dutchess of Suffolk, Act III.: “A rope for Bishop Bonner, Clunce run, “Call help, a rope, or we are all undone, “Draw dun out of the ditch.” Dr. Grey. Draw dun (a common name, as Mr. Douce observes, for a cart-horse) out of the mire, seems to have been a game. In an old collection of Satyres, Epigrams, &c. I find it enumerated among other pastimes: “At shove-groate, venter point, or crosse and pile, “At leaping o'er a Midsommer bone-fier, “Or at the drawing dun out of the myer.” Dun's the mouse is a proverbial phrase, which I have likewise met with frequently in the old comedies. So, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “If my host say the word, the mouse shall be dun.” It is also found among Ray's proverbial similes. Again, in the Two Merry Milkmaids, 1620: “Why then 'tis done, and dun's the mouse, and undone all the courtiers.” Of this cant expression I cannot determine the precise meaning. It is used again in Westward Hoc, by Decker and Webster, 1607, but apparently in a sense different from that which Dr. Warburton would affix to it. Steevens. Dun out of the mire was the name of a tune, and to this sense Mercutio may allude when Romeo declines dancing. Taylor, in A Navy of Land Ships, says, “Nimble-heeled mariners (like so many dancers) capring in the pumpes and vanities of this sinfull world, sometimes a Morisca or Trenchmore of forty miles long, to the tune of Dusty my Deare, Dirty come Thou to Me, Dun out of the mire, or I Wayle in Woe and Plunge in Paine: all these dances have no other musicke.” Holt White. These passages serve to prove that Dr. Warburton's explanation is ill founded, without tending to explain the real sense of the phrase, or showing why it should be the constable's own word. M. Mason. “The cat is grey,” a cant phrase, somewhat similar to “Dun's the mouse,” occurs in King Lear. But the present application of Mercutio's words will, I fear, remain in hopeless obscurity. Steevens. We are indebted to Mr. Gifford for a description of the game alluded to. See his note on A Masque of Christmas, Gifford's Jonson, vol. vii. p. 282. Boswell.

Note return to page 126 3Of this (save reverence) love,] The folio—Or save your reverence, &c. The word or obscures the sentence; we should read—O! for or love. Mercutio having called the affection with which Romeo was entangled by so disrespectful a word as mire, cries out: “O! save your reverence, love.” Johnson. This passage is not worth a contest; and yet if the conjunction or were retained, the meaning appears to be:—We'll draw thee from the mire (says he) or rather from this love wherein thou stick'st. Dr. Johnson has imputed a greater share of politeness to Mercutio than he is found to be possessed of in the quarto 1597. Mercutio, as he passes through different editions, “Works himself clear, and as he runs refines.” Steevens. I have followed the first quarto, 1597, except that it has sur-reverence, instead of save-reverence. It was only a different mode of spelling the same word; which was derived from the Latin, salva reverentia. See Blount's Glossograph. 8vo. 1681, in v. sa-reverence. In The Comedy of Errors, the word is written as in the first copy of this play, and is used in the same sense: “&lblank; such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say sir-reverence &lblank;.” And in Much Ado About Nothing, it occurs as now printed in the text: “I think you will have me say (save reverence) a husband.” The printer of the quarto 1599, exhibited the line thus unintelligibly: “Or, save you reverence, love—” which was followed by the next quarto, of 1609, and by the folio with a slight variation. The editor of the folio, whenever he found an error in a later quarto, seems to have corrected it by caprice, without examining the preceding copy. He reads—Or, save your reverence, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 127 *Quarto A, Leave this talk, we burn day-light here.

Note return to page 128 4&lblank; we burn day-light, ho.] To burn day-light is a proverbial expression, used when candles, &c. are lighted in the day time. See Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. I. Chapman has not very intelligibly employed this phrase in his translation of the twentieth Iliad: “And all their strength &lblank; “&lblank; no more shall burn in vain the day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 129 *Quarto A, “We burn our lights by night like lamps by day.” Folio and the other quartos, “We waste our lights in vain lights, lights by day.”

Note return to page 130 5&lblank; like lamps by day.] Lamps is the reading of the oldest quarto. The folio and subsequent quartos read—lights, lights by day. Steevens.

Note return to page 131 6Five times in that, &c.] The quarto 1597, reads: Three times a day;” and right wits, instead of fine wits. Steevens. “&lblank; for our judgment sits “Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.” The quarto 1599, and the folio, have—our fine wits. Shakspeare is on all occasions so fond of antithesis, that I have no doubt he wrote five, not fine. The error has happened so often in these plays, and the emendation is so strongly confirmed by comparing these lines as exhibited in the enlarged copy of this play, with the passage as it stood originally, that I have not hesitated to give the reading which I proposed some time ago, a place in the text. The same mistake has happened in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, where we find in all the old copies—“of these fine the sense,” instead of “&lblank; these five.” Again, in King Henry VI. P. I.: “Deck'd with fine flower-de-luces,” instead of—“five,” &c. In Coriolanus, the only authentick ancient copy has— “the five strains of honour,” for “the fine strains of honour.” Indeed in the writing of Shakspeare's age, the u and n were formed exactly in the same manner; we are not to wonder therefore that ignorant transcribers should have confounded them. In the modern editions these errors have all been properly amended. Shakspeare has again mentioned the five wits in Much Ado about Nothing, in King Lear, and in one of his Sonnets. Again, in the play before us: “Thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five.” Mercutio is here also the speaker. In the first quarto the line stands thus: “Three times in that, ere once in our right wits.” When the poet altered “three times” to “five times,” he, without doubt, for the sake of the jingle, discarded the word right, and substituted five in its place. The alteration, indeed, seems to have been made merely to obtain the antithesis. Malone.

Note return to page 132 *Quarto A, inserts Romeo.

Note return to page 133 7O, then, &c.] In the quarto 1597, after the first line of Mercutio's speech, Romeo says, “Queen Mab, what's she?” and the printer, by a blunder, has given all the rest of the speech to the same character. Steevens. Mr. Steevens is not quite accurate. It is to Benvolio, not Romeo, that this speech is given in the quarto 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 134 8O, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife;] The fairies' midwife does not mean the midwife to the fairies, but that she was the person among the fairies, whose department it was to deliver the fancies of sleeping men of their dreams, those children of an idle brain. When we say the king's judges, we do not mean persons who are to judge the king, but persons appointed by him to judge his subjects. Steevens. I apprehend, and with no violence of interpretation, that by “the fairies' midwife,” the poet means, the midwife among the fairies, because it was her peculiar employment to steal the new-born babe in the night, and to leave another in its place. The poet here uses her general appellation, and character, which yet has so far a proper reference to the present train of fiction, as that her allusions were practised on persons in bed or asleep; for she not only haunted women in childbed, but was likewise the incubus or night-mare. Shakspeare, by employing her here, alludes at large to her midnight pranks performed on sleepers; but denominates her from the most notorious one, of her personating the drowsy midwife, who was insensibly carried away into some distant water, and substituting a new birth in the bed or cradle. It would clear the appellation to read the fairy midwife. The poet avails himself of Mab's appropriate province, by giving her this nocturnal agency. T. Warton. Warburton reads the fancy's midwife. Boswell.

Note return to page 135 9On the fore-finger of an alderman,] The quarto 1597 reads —of a burgo-master. The alteration was probably made by the poet himself, as we find it in the succeeding copy, 1599: but in order to familiarize the idea, he has diminished its propriety. In the pictures of burgo-masters, the ring is generally placed on the fore-finger; and from a passage in The First Part of Henry IV. we may suppose the citizens, in Shakspeare's time, to have worn this ornament on the thumb. So again, Glapthorne, in his comedy of Wit in a Constable, 1639: “&lblank; and an alderman, as I may say to you, he has no more wit than the rest o' the bench; and that lies in his thumb-ring.” Steevens.

Note return to page 136 1&lblank; of little atomies &lblank;] Atomy is no more than an obsolete substitute for atom. So, in The Two Merry Milkmaids, 1620: “&lblank; I can tear thee “As small as atomies, and throw thee off “Like dust before the wind.” Again, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “I'll tear thy limbs into more atomies “Than in the summer play before the sun.” In Drayton's Nymphidia there is likewise a description of Queen Mab's chariot: “Four nimble gnats the horses were, “Their harnesses of gossamere, “Fly cranion, her charioteer,   “Upon the coach-box getting: “Her chariot of a snail's fine shell, “Which for the colours did excell, “The fair Queen Mab becoming well,   “So lively was the limning: “The seat, the soft wool of the bee, “The cover (gallantly to see) “The wing of a py'd butterflee,   “I trow, 'twas simple trimming: “The wheels compos'd of cricket's bones, “And daintily made for the nonce, “For fear of ratling on the stones,   “With thistle-down they shod it.” Steevens. Drayton's Nymphidia was written several years after this tragedy. See vol. v. p. 206, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 137 *Folio, over.

Note return to page 138 †Quarto A, The collers.

Note return to page 139 ‡So quarto A; folio, man.

Note return to page 140 2&lblank; with sweet-meats &lblank;] i. e. kissing-comfits. These artificial aids to perfume the breath, are mentioned by Falstaff, in the last Act of The Merry Wives of Windsor. Malone.

Note return to page 141 §A lawyer's lap.

Note return to page 142 3Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: &c.] Mr. Pope reads—lawyer's nose. Steevens. The old editions have it—courtier's nose; and this undoubtedly is the true reading; and for these reasons: First, In the new reading there is a repetition in this fine speech; the same thought having been given in the foregoing line: “O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees:” Nor can it be objected that there will be the same fault if we read courtier's, it having been said before: “On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight:” Because they are shown in two places under different views: in the first, their foppery; in the second, their rapacity is ridiculed. Secondly, in our author's time, a court-solicitation was called, simply, a suit, and a process, a suit at law, to distinguish it from the other. “The King (says an anonymous contemporary writer of the Life of Sir William Cecil) called him [Sir William Cecil] and after long talk with him, being much delighted with his answers, willed his father to find [i. e. to smell out] a suit for him. Whereupon he became suitor for the reversion of the Custos-brevium office in the Common Pleas: which the king willingly granted, it being the first suit he had in his life.” Indeed our poet has very rarely turned his satire against lawyers and law proceedings, the common topick of later writers: for, to observe it to the honour of the English judicatures, they preserved the purity and simplicity of their first institution, long after chicane had over-run all the other laws of Europe. Warburton. As almost every book of that age furnishes proofs of what Dr. Warburton has observed, I shall add but one other instance, from Decker's Guls Hornebooke, 1609: “If you be a courtier, discourse of the obtaining of suits.” Malone. In these lines Dr. Warburton has very justly restored the old reading, courtier's nose, and has explained the passage with his usual learning; but I do not think he is so happy in his endeavour to justify Shakspeare from the charge of a vicious repetition in introducing the courtier twice. The second folio, I observe, reads: “On countries knees &lblank;.” which has led me to conjecture, that the line ought to be read thus: “On counties knees, that dream on court'sies straight: Counties I understand to signify noblemen in general. Paris, who, in one place, I think, is called earl, is most commonly styled the county in this play. And so in Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV. we find: “Princes and counties.” And in All's Well that Ends Well, Act III.: “A ring the county wears.” The Countie Egmond is so called more than once in Holinshed, p. 1150, and in the Burleigh Papers, vol. i. p. 204. See also p. 7: The Countie Palatine Lowys. However, perhaps, it is as probable that the repetition of the courtier, which offends us in this passage, may be owing (not to any error of the press, but) to the players having jumbled together the varieties of several editions, as they certainly have done in other parts of the play. Tyrwhitt. In the present instance, I think, it is more probable that the repetition arose from the cause assigned by Mr. Steevens. Malone. At the first entry of the characters in the history of Orlando Furioso, played before Queen Elizabeth, and published in 1594 and 1599, Sacripant is called the Countie Sacripant. Again, Orlando, speaking of himself: “Surnam'd Orlando, the Countie Palatine.” Countie is at least repeated twenty times in the same play. This speech, at different times, received much alteration and improvement. The part of it in question stands thus in the quarto 1597: “And in this sort she gallops up and down “Through lovers braines, and then they dream of love: “O'er courtiers knees, who strait on cursies dreame: “O'er ladies lips, who dream on kisses strait; “Which oft the angrie Mab with blisters plagues, “Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. “Sometimes she gallops o'er a lawyer's lap, “And then dreames he of smelling out a suit: “And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pigs taile, “Tickling a parson's nose that lies asleepe, “And then dreames he of another benefice. “Sometimes she gallops o'er a souldier's nose, “And then dreames he of cutting forraine throats, “Of breaches, ambuscadoes, countermines, “Of healths five fadome deepe,” &c. Shakspeare, as I have observed before, did not always attend to the propriety of his own alterations. Steevens. This whole speech bears a resemblance to Claudian: “Omnia quæ sensu volvuntur vota diurno   “Pectore sopito reddit amica quies. “Venator defessa thoro cum membra reponit,   Mens tamen ad silvas et sua lustra reddit; “Furto gaudet amans, permutat navita merces,   “Et vigil elapsas quærit avarus opes. “Judicibus lites, aurigæ somnia currus,   “Vanaque sollicitis meta cavetur equis. “Me quoque musarum studium sub nocte silenti   “Artibus assuetis sollicitare solet &lblank;.” In Sextum Consulatum Honorii Augusti Præfatio.

Note return to page 143 4&lblank; Spanish blades,] A sword is called a toledo, from the excellence of the Toletan steel. So Grotius: “Gladius Toletanus. “Unda Tagi non est uno celebranda metallo;   “Utilis in cives est ibi lamna suos.” Johnson. The quarto 1597, instead of Spanish blades, reads countermines. Steevens. In the passage quoted from Grotius, alio has been constantly printed instead of uno, which makes it nonsense; the whole point of the couplet depending on that word. I have corrected it from the original. Malone.

Note return to page 144 5Of healths five fathom deep;] So, in Westward Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607: “&lblank; troth, sir, my master and sir Goslin are guzzling; they are dabbling together fathom deep. The knight has drunk so much health to the gentleman yonder, on his knees, that he hath almost lost the use of his legs.” Malone.

Note return to page 145 *Quarto A, plats.

Note return to page 146 6And bakes the elf-locks, &c.] This was a common superstition; and seems to have had its rise from the horrid disease called the Plica Polonica. Warburton. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “And when I shook these locks, now knotted all, “As bak'd in blood &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 147 †Quarto A, breeds.

Note return to page 148 7&lblank; when maids, &c.] So, in Drayton's Nymphidia: “And Mab, his merry queen, by night “Bestrides young folks that lie upright, “(In elder times the mare that hight)   “Which plagues them out of measure.” So, in Gervase of Tilbury, Dec. I. c. 17: “Vidimus quosdam dæmones tanto zelo mulieres amare, quod ad inaudita prorumpunt ludibria, et cum ad concubitum earum accedunt, mira mole eas opprimunt, nec ab aliis videntur.” Steevens. In quarto 1597, it is thus read: “This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backs;” and the other circumstances of platting the manes and elf-locks conclude the speech. Boswell.

Note return to page 149 8&lblank; of good carriage.] So, in Love's Labour's Lost, Act. I. Sc. II.: “&lblank; let them be men of good repute and carriage.” “Moth. Sampson, master; he was a man of good carriage; great carriage; for he carried the town-gates,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 150 9&lblank; from thence,] The quarto 1597 reads—in haste. Steevens.

Note return to page 151 1&lblank; his face &lblank;] So the quarto 1597. The other ancient copies have side. Malone.

Note return to page 152 *Quarto A, Which bitterly begins.

Note return to page 153 †Quarto A, expires.

Note return to page 154 2&lblank; and expire the term Of a despised life,] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “An expir'd date, cancell'd ere well begun.” So, in Chloris, &c. 1596, Sonnet 23: “The Phœnix fair, which rich Arabia breeds, “When wasting time expires her tragedy.” Malone. Again, in Hubbard's Tale: “Now whereas time flying with wings swift, “Expired had the term,” &c. Again, in Chapman's version of the eleventh Iliad: “Draw some breath, nor expire it all &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 155 ‡Quarto A, Untimely forfeit of vile death.

Note return to page 156 3Directs my sail.] I have restored this reading from the elder quarto, as being more congruous to the metaphor in the preceding line. Suit is the reading of the folio. Steevens. Suit is the corrupt reading of the quarto 1599, from which it got into all the subsequent copies. Malone. “Direct my suit!” Guide the sequel of the adventure. Johnson.

Note return to page 157 4Strike, drum.] Here the folio adds: “They march about the stage, and serving men come forth with their napkins.” Steevens.

Note return to page 158 5Scene V.] This scene is added since the first copy. Steevens.

Note return to page 159 6&lblank; he shift a trencher! &c.] Trenchers were still used by persons of good fashion in our author's time. In the Houshold Book of the Earls of Northumberland, compiled at the beginning of the same century, it appears that they were common to the tables of the first nobility. Percy. To shift a trencher was technical. So, in The Miseries of Enforst Marriage, 1608, sig. E 3: “&lblank; learne more manners, stand at your brothers backe, as to shift a trencher neately,” &c. Reed. They were common even in the time of Charles I. See Tempest, Act II. Sc. II. Malone. They continued common much longer in many publick societies, particularly in colleges and inns of court: and are still retained at Lincoln's-Inn. Nichols. On the books of the Stationers' Company, in the year 1554, is the following entry: “Item, payd for x dosyn of trenchers, xxid.” Steevens.

Note return to page 160 7&lblank; court-cupboard,] I am not very certain that I know the exact significations of court-cupboard. Perhaps it served the purpose of what we call at present the side-board. It is however frequently mentioned in the old plays. So, in a Humorous Day's Mirth, 1599: “&lblank; shadow these tables with their white veils, and acoomplish the court-cupboard.” Again, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606, by Chapman: “Here shall stand my court-cupboard, with its furniture of plate.” Again, in The Roaring Girl, 1611: “Place that in the court-cupboard.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “&lblank; they are together on the cupboard of the court, or the court-cupboard.” Again, in Chapman's May-Day, 1611: “Court-cupboards planted with flaggons, cans, cups, beakers,” &c. Two of these court-cupboards are still in Stationers' Hall. Steevens. The use which to this day is made of those cupboards is exactly described in the above-quoted line of Chapman; to display at publick festivals the flaggons, cans, cups, beakers, and other antique silver vessels of the company, some of which (with the names of the donors inscribed on them) are remarkably large. Nichols. By “remove the court-cupboard,” the speaker means, I think, remove the flaggons, cups, ewers, &c. contained in it. A court-cupboard was not strictly what we now call a side-board, but a recess fitted up with shelves to contain plate, &c. for the use of the table. It was afterwards called a buffet, and continued to be used to the time of Pope: “The rich buffet well colour'd serpents grace, “And gaping Tritons spew to wash your face.” The side-board was, I apprehend, introduced in the present century. Malone. A court-cupboard was a moveable; a beufet, a fixture. The former was open, and made of plain oak; the latter had folding doors, and was both painted and gilded on the inside. Steevens.

Note return to page 161 8&lblank; save me a piece of marchpane;] Marchpane was a confection made of pistacho-nuts, almonds, and sugar, &c. and in high esteem in Shakspeare's time; as appears from the account of Queen Elizabeth's entertainment in Cambridge. It is said that the University presented Sir William Cecil, their chancellor, with two pair of gloves, a marchpane, and two sugar-loaves. Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, vol. ii. p. 29. Grey. Marchpane was a kind of sweet bread or biscuit; called by some almond-cake. Hermolaus Barbarus terms it mazapanis, vulgarly Martius panis G. marcepain and massepan, It. marzapane, il maçapan, B. marcepeyn, i.e. massa pura. But, as few understood the meaning of this term, it began to be generally, though corruptly, called massepeyn, marcepeyn, martsepeyn; and in consequence of this mistake of theirs, it soon took the name of martius panis, an appellation trasferred afterwards into other languages. See Junius. Hawkins. Marchpane was a constant article in the deserts of our ancestors. So, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “&lblank; seeing that the issue of the table, fruits and cheese, or wafers, hypocras, and marchpanes, or comfytures, be brought in.” See Dugdales' Orig. Jurid. p. 133. In the year 1560, I find the following entry on the books of the Stationers' Company: “Item, payd for ix marshe paynes, xxvi s. viii d.” Marchpanes were composed of filberts, almonds, pistachoes, pine-kernels, and sugar of roses, with a small proportion of flour. L'Etoile in his description of a magnificent entertainment given at Paris in 1596, says: “&lblank; les confitures seiches et massepans y estoient si peu espargnez, que les dames et damoiselles estoient contraintes de s'en decharger sur les pages et les laquais, auxquels on les bailloit tous entiers.” Our macaroons are only debased and diminutive marchpanes. Steevens.

Note return to page 162 9&lblank; their toes &lblank;] Thus all the ancient copies. The modern editors, following Mr. Pope, read, with more delicacy—their feet. —An editor by such capricious alterations deprives the reader of the means of judging of the manners of different ages; for the word employed in the text undoubtedly did not appear indelicate to the audience of Shakspeare's time, though perhaps it would not be endured at this day. Malone. It was endured, at least, in the time of Milton. Thus, in Comus, 960: “&lblank; without duck or nod “Other trippings to be trod “Of lighter toes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 163 *So quarto A; folio will walke about with you.

Note return to page 164 1You are welcome, gentlemen!] These two lines, omitted by the modern editors, I have replaced from the folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 165 2A hall! a hall!] Such is the old reading, and the true one, though the modern editors read—A ball! a ball! The former exclamation occurs frequently in the old comedies, and signifies, make room. So, in the comedy of Doctor Dodypoll, 1600: “Room! room! a hall! a hall!” Again, in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “&lblank; Then cry, a hall! a hall!” Again, in an Epithalamium, by Christopher Brooke, published at the end of England's Helicon, 1614: “Cry not, a hall! a hall; but chamber-roome; “Dancing is lame,” &c. and numberless other passages. Steevens.

Note return to page 166 3&lblank; turn the tables up,] Before this phrase is generally intelligible, it should be observed that ancient tables were flat leaves, joined by hinges, and placed on tressels. When they were to be removed, they were therefore turned up. So, in the ancient translation by Marco Paolo's Voyages, 1579: “After dinner is done, and the tables taken uppe, everie man goeth aboute his businesse.” Again, in “The Seventh mery Jest of the Wyddow Edyth,” 1573: “And when that taken up was the borde, “And all payde for,” &c. Again, in Mandeville's Travels, p. 285–6: “And such playes of desport they make, till the taking up of the boordes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 167 4&lblank; good cousin Capulet;] This cousin Capulet is uncle in the paper of invitation; but as Capulet is described as old, cousin is probably the right word in both places. I know not how Capulet and his lady might agree, their ages were very disproportionate; he has been past masking for thirty years, and her age, as she tells Juliet, is but eight-and-twenty. Johnson. Cousin was a common expression from one kinsman to another, out of the degree of parent and child, brother and sister. Thus in Hamlet, the King his uncle and step-father addresses him with: “But now my cousin Hamlet and my son.” And in this very play, Act III. Lady Capulet says: “Tybalt my cousin!—O my brother's child.” So, in As You Like It: “Ros. Me uncle? “Duke. You cousin!” And Olivia, in Twelfth-Night, constantly calls her uncle Toby cousin. Ritson. Shakspeare and other contemporary writers use the word cousin to denote any collateral relation, of whatever degree, and sometimes even to denote those of lineal descent. Richard III. during a whole scene, calls his nephew York, cousin; who, in his answer, constantly calls him uncle. And the old Duchess of York, in the same play, calls her grandson, cousin: “Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow. “York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,” &c. And in Fletcher's Women Pleased, Sylvio styles Rhodope, at one time, his aunt—at others, his cousin—to the great annoyance of Mr. Sympson, the editor. M. Mason.

Note return to page 168 5&lblank; our dancing days:] Thus the folio: the quarto reads, “our standing days.” Steevens.

Note return to page 169 6Will you tell me, &c.] This speech stands thus in the first copy: “Will you tell me that? it cannot be so: “His son was but a ward three years ago; “Good youths, i'faith!—Oh, youth's a jolly thing!” There are many trifling variations in almost every speech of this play; but when they are of little consequence I have foreborne to encumber the page by the insertion of them. The last, however, of these three lines, is natural, and worth preserving. Steevens.

Note return to page 170 7What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?] Here is another proof that our author had the poem, and not Painter's Novel, in his mind. In the latter we are told—“A certain lord of that troupe took Juliet by the hand to dance.” In the poem of Romeus and Juliet, as in the play, her partner is a knight: “With torch in hand a comely knight did fetch her forth to dance.” Malone.

Note return to page 171 8It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night &lblank;] Mr. Steevens adopts the reading of the second folio—Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night. Boswell. Shakspeare has the same thought in his 27th Sonnet: “Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, “Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.” The quartos 1597, 1599, 1609, and the folio 1623, coldly read: “It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night.” It is to the folio 1632 that we are indebted for the present reading, which is certainly the more elegant, if not the true one. The repetition, however, of the word beauty, in the next line but one, in my opinion, confirms the emendation of our second folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 172 9Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:] So, in Lyly's Euphues: “A fair pearl in a Morian's ear.” Holt White.

Note return to page 173 *Folio, blessed.

Note return to page 174 1For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.] Thus King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; O beauty, “Till now I never knew thee!” Steevens.

Note return to page 175 *Quarto A, to mock.

Note return to page 176 †Quarto A, is it not?

Note return to page 177 ‡Quarto A, bear.

Note return to page 178 §Quarto A, knave.

Note return to page 179 2&lblank; to scath you;] i. e. to do you an injury. So, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “They shall amend the scath, or kiss the pound.” Again, in the interlude of Jacob and Esau, 1568: “Alas! what wretched villain hath done me such scath?” Steevens. It still hath this meaning in Scotland. Boswell.

Note return to page 180 3You must contrary me!] The use of this verb is common to our old writers. So, in Tully's Love, by Greene, 1616: “&lblank; rather wishing to die than to contrary her resolution.” Many instances more might be selected from Sidney's Arcadia. Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. x. c. 59: “&lblank; his countermand should have contraried so.” The same verb is used in Arthur Hall's version of the eighth Iliad, 4to. 1581; and in Sir Thomas North's translation of Plutarch. Steevens.

Note return to page 181 4&lblank; You are a princox; go:] A princox is a coxcomb, a conceited person. The word is used by Ben Jonson, in The Case is Alter'd, 1609; by Chapman, in his comedy of May-Day, 1610; in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “Your proud university princox.”— Again, in Fuimus Troes, 1633: “That princox proud.” And indeed by most of the old dramatick writers. Cotgrave renders un jeune estourdeau superbe—a young princox boy. Steevens.

Note return to page 182 5Patience perforce &lblank;] This expression is part proverbial: the old adage is— “Patience perforce is a medicine for a mad dog.” Steevens.

Note return to page 183 *So folio, and all the rest; quarto A, unworthy.

Note return to page 184 6If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,— My lips, two blushing pilgrims, &c.] The old copies read sin. Malone. All profanations are supposed to be expiated either by some meritorious action, or by some penance undergone, and punishment submitted to. So Romeo would here say, If I have been profane in the rude touch of my hand, my lips stand ready, as two blushing pilgrims, to take off that offence, to atone for it by a sweet penance. Our poet therefore must have wrote: &lblank; the gentle fine is this. Warburton.

Note return to page 185 7O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.] Juliet had said before that “palm to palm was holy palmer's kiss.” She afterwards says that “palmers have lips that they must use in prayer.” Romeo replies, that the prayer of his lips was, that they might do what hands do? that is, that they might kiss. M. Mason.

Note return to page 186 *Quarto A, Saints do not moove though: grant nor praier forsake.

Note return to page 187 8[Kissing her.] Our poet here, without doubt, copied from the mode of his own time; and kissing a lady in a publick assembly, we may conclude, was not thought indecorous. In King Henry VIII. he in like manner makes Lord Sands kiss Anne Boleyn, next to whom he sits at the supper given by Cardinal Wolsey. Malone.

Note return to page 188 9You kiss by the book.] In As You Like It, we find it was usual to quarrel by the book, and we are told in the note, that there were books extant for good manners. Juliet here appears to refer to a third kind, containing the art of courtship, an example from which it is probable that Rosalind hath adduced. Henley. Of all men who have loosed themselves on Shakspeare, none is there who so inveigleth me to amorous meditations, as the critick aforesaid. In Antony and Cleopatra he sore vexed and disquieted mine imagination touching the hair and voice of women; in King Lear he hinted at somewhat touching noninos; and lo! now disserteth he on lip-gallantry! But (saith a wag at mine elbow) on the business of kissing, surely Calista's question might be addressed to our commentator—“Is it become an art then? a trick that bookmen can teach us to do over?” I believe, no dissertation, or guide, to this interchange of fondness was ever penned, at least while Shakspeare was alive. All that Juliet means to say is—you kiss methodically; you offer as many reasons for kissing, as could have been found in a treatise professedly written on the subject. When Hamlet observes on the Grave-digger's equivocation—“we must speak by the card,” can he be supposed to have had a literal meaning? Without reference to books, however, Juliet betrays little ignorance on the present occasion; but could have said (with Mortimer, in King Henry IV.)— “I understand thy kisses, and thou mine; “And that's a feeling disputation.” Amner.

Note return to page 189 1&lblank; the chinks.] Thus the old copies; for which Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors have substituted chink. Malone.

Note return to page 190 *Quarto A, Montague.

Note return to page 191 †Quarto A, thrall.

Note return to page 192 2We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.] Towards is ready, at hand. So, in Hamlet: “What might be towards, that this sweaty haste “Doth make the night joint labourer with the day?” Again, in The Phœnix, by Middleton, 1607: “&lblank; here's a voyage towards, will make us all.” Steevens. It appears, from the former part of this scene, that Capulet's company had supped. A banquet, it should be remembered, often meant, in old times, nothing more than a collation of fruit, wine, &c. So, in The Life of Lord Cromwell, 1602: “Their dinner is our banquet after dinner.” Again, in Howel's Chronicle of the Civil Wars, 1661, p. 662: “After dinner, he was served with a banquet.” Malone. It appears, from many circumstances, that our ancestors quitted their eating-rooms as soon as they had dined, and in warm weather retired to buildings constructed in their gardens. These were called banqueting-houses, and here their desert was served. Steevens.

Note return to page 193 3&lblank; honest gentlemen;] Here the quarto 1597, adds: “I promise you, but for your company, “I would have been in bed an hour ago: “Light to my chamber, ho!” Steevens.

Note return to page 194 4Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman?] This and the following questions are taken from the novel. Steevens. See the poem of Romeus and Juliet: “What twayne are those, quoth she, which prease unto the door. “&lblank; Yet over again, the young and ugly dame? “And tell me who is he with vysor in his hand, “That yonder dooth in masking weede besyde the windowstand. “His name is Romeus, said she, a Montagewe.” Malone.

Note return to page 195 *Quarto A, That, as I think, is young Petruchio.

Note return to page 196 5&lblank; Chorus.] This Chorus added since the first edition. Pope. The use of this Chorus is not easily discovered; it conduces nothing to the progress of the play, but relates what is already known, or what the next scene will show; and relates it without adding the improvement of any moral sentiment. Johnson.

Note return to page 197 6That fair,] Fair, it has been already observed, was formerly used as a substantive, and was synonymous to beauty. See vol. 5, p. 136, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 198 7&lblank; for which love groan'd for,] Thus the ancient copies, for which all the modern editors, adopting Mr. Rowe's alteration, read—groan'd sore. This is one of the many changes that have been made in the text from not attending to ancient phraseology; for this kind of duplication was common in Shakspeare's time. So, in Coriolanus, Act II. Sc. I.: “In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?” As You Like It, Act II. Sc. VII.: “&lblank; the scene wherein we play in.” Malone. The instances produced by Mr. Malone, to justify the old and corrupt reading, are not drawn from the quartos, which he judiciously commends, but from the folio, which with equal judgment he has censured. These irregularities, therefore, standing on no surer ground than that of copies published by ignorant players, and printed by careless compositors, I utterly refuse to admit their accumulated jargon as the grammar of Shakspeare, or of the age he lived in. Fair, in the present instance was used as a dissyllable, Sometimes, our author, as here, uses the same word as a dissyllable and a monosyllable, in the very same line. Thus, in The Tempest, Act I. Sc. II.: “Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since.” Steevens. The whole of Mr. Steevens's note must have been intended to mislead the reader. The passages which I have cited are certainly drawn from the folio, and not from the quartos, for this very satisfactory reason, that there are no quarto copies of those plays. The word for, which Mr. Steevens would here omit, is not found in the quarto 1597, because the chorus is there left out altogether, but it stands on the ground of the quarto 1599, and the first folio. I will show by a few other instances, out of many that I could produce, that the phraseology of the text was that of Shakspeare's time. Thus in Lilly's Prologue at Court, to Campaspe: “So are we enforced upon a rough discourse to drawe on a smooth excuse.” So, in Job, chap. xli. v. 11, Barker's Bible, 1599; “Out of his nostrils cometh out smoke.” So, in a letter from Lord Burghley to the Earl of Shrewsbury, Jan. 23, 1587–8, Weymouth, MSS. “I did earnestly enqre of h&ybar;, in what estate he stood in for discharge of his former detts.” So, in another letter from the same to the same, October 26, 1586: “To the which it is ment that we all should put to our names.” Malone.

Note return to page 199 *This speech in the folio, and quartos A, B, C, is given to Benvolio.

Note return to page 200 8&lblank; pronounce but—love and dove;] Thus the first quarto, 1597. Pronounce, in the quartos of 1599 and 1609, was made provaunt. In the first folio, which appears to have been printed from the latter of these copies, the same reading is adopted. The editor of the second folio arbitrarily substituted couply, meaning certainly couple; and all the modern editors have adopted his innovation. Provaunt, as Mr. Steevens has observed, means provision; but I have never met with the verb To provant, nor has any example of it been produced. I have no doubt, therefore, that it was a corruption, and have adhered to the first quarto. In this very line—love and dove, the reading of the original copy of 1597 was corrupted in the two subsequent quartos and the folio, to—love and day; and heir, in the next line, corrupted into her. Malone. The quarto 1597 reads pronounce; the two succeeding quartos and the first folio, provaunt; the 2d, 3d, and 4th folios, couply; and Mr. Rowe, who printed from the last of these, formed the present reading. Provant, however, in ancient language, signifies provision. So, in “The Court and Kitchen of Elizabeth, called Joan Cromwell, the Wife of the late Usurper, truly described and represented,” 1664, p. 14: “carrying some dainty provant for her own and her daughter's repast.” To provant is to provide; and to provide is to furnish. “Provant but love and dove,” may therefore mean, furnish but such hackneyed rhymes as these are, the trite effusions of lovers. Mr. Malone asks for instances of the verb provant. When he will produce examples of other verbs (like reverb, &c.) peculiar to our author, I may furnish him with the instance he desires. I am content, however, to follow the second folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 201 9Young Adam Cupid.] All the old copies read—Abraham Cupid. The alteration was proposed originally by Mr. Upton. See Observations, p. 243. It evidently alludes to the famous archer, Adam Bell. Reed.

Note return to page 202 *So quarto A; folio, true.

Note return to page 203 1When king Cophetua, &c.] Alluding to an old ballad preserved in the first volume of Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: “Here you may read, Cophetua,   “Though long time fancie-fed, “Compelled by the blinded boy   “The beggar for to wed.” Steevens. “Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, “When,” &c. This word trim, the first editors, consulting the general sense of the passage, and not perceiving the allusion, would naturally alter to true; yet the former seems the more humorous expression, and, on account of its quaintness, more likely to have been used by mercutio. Percy. So trim is the reading of the oldest copy, and this ingenious conjecture is confirmed by it. In Decker's Satiromastix, is a reference to the same archer: “&lblank; He shoots his bolt but seldom; but when Adam lets go, he hits:” “He shoots at thee too, Adam Bell; and his arrows stick here.” Trim was an epithet formerly in common use. It occurs often in Churchyard's Siege of Leeth, 1575: “Made sallies forth, as tryme men might do.” Again, ibid.: “And showed themselves trimme souldiours as I ween.” Steevens. The ballad here alluded to, is King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, or, as it is called in some old copies, The Song of a Beggar and a King. The following stanza Shakspeare had particularly in view: “The blinded boy that shoots so trim,   “From heaven down did hie, “He drew a dart and shot at him,   “In place where he did lie.” Malone.

Note return to page 204 2&lblank; he heareth not, stirreth not,] Old copies, unmetrically,— he stirreth not. Steevens. Is the metre improved by Mr. Steevens's alteration? Boswell.

Note return to page 205 3The ape is dead,] This phrase appears to have been frequently applied to young men, in our author's time, without any reference to the mimickry of that animal. It was an expression of tenderness, like poor fool. Nashe, in one of his pamphlets, mentions his having read Lyly's Euphues, when he was a little ape at Cambridge. Malone.

Note return to page 206 4By her high forehead,] A high forehead was in Shakspeare's time thought eminently beautiful. See Tempest, Act. IV. ad finem, and Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 207 6&lblank; the humorous night:] I suppose Shakspeare means humid, the moist dewy night. Chapman uses the word in that sense in his translation of Homer, b. ii. edit. 1598: “The other gods and knights at arms slept all the humorous night.” Again, in the 21st book: “Whence all floods, all the sea, all founts, wells, all deeps humorous, “Fetch their beginnings &lblank;.” Again, in Drayton's Polyolbion, song 3: “Such matter as she takes from the gross humorous earth.” Again, song 13th: “&lblank; which late the humorous night   “Bespangled had with pearl &lblank;.” Again, in his Barons' Wars, canto i.: “The humorous fogs deprive us of his light.” Steevens. In Measure for Measure we have “the vaporous night approaches;” which shows that Mr. Steevens has rightly interpreted the word in the text. Malone.

Note return to page 208 7As maids, &c.] After this line, in the old copies, I find two other verses, containing such ribaldry, that I cannot venture to insert them in the text, though I exhibit them here as a proof that the editors of our poet have sometimes known how to blot: “O Romeo that she were, ah that she were “An open et cætera, thou a poprin pear!” This pear is mention in The Wise Woman of Hogsdon, 1638: “What needed I to have grafted in the stock of such a choke-pear, and such a goodly poprin as this to escape me?” Again, in A New Wonder, a Woman Never Vexed, 1632: “&lblank; I requested him to pull me “A Katherine Pear, and, had I not look'd to him, “He'd have mistook, and given me a popperin.” In The Atheist's Tragedy, by Cyril Turner, 1611, there is much conceit about this pear. I am unable to explain it with certainty, nor does it appear indeed to deserve explanation. Thus much may safely be said; viz. that our pear might have been of French extraction, as Poperin was the name of a parish in the Marches of Calais. So, in Chaucer's Rime of Sire Thopas, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. 1775, ver. 13,650: “In Flandres, al beyonde the see, “At Popering in the place.” In the edition of Messieurs Boydell I have also omitted these offensive lines. Dr. Johnson has somewhere observed, that there are higher laws than those of criticism. Steevens. These two lines, which are found in the quartos of 1597, 1599, and in the folio, were rejected by Mr. Pope, who in like manner has rejected whole scenes of our author; but what is more strange, his example has, in this instance, been followed by the succeeding editors. However improper any lines may be for recitation on the stage, an editor, in my apprehension, has no right to omit any passage that is found in all the authentick copies of his author's works. They appear not only in the editions already mentioned, but also in that copy which has no date, and in the edition of 1637. I have adhered to the original copy. The two subsequent quartos and the folio read, with a slight variation— “An open—or thou a poperin pear.” The unseemly name of the apple here alluded to, is well known. Poperingue is a town in French Flanders, two leagues distant from Ypres. From hence the Poperin pear was brought into England. What were the peculiar qualities of a Poperin pear, I am unable to ascertain, The word was chosen, I believe, merely for the sake of a quibble, which it is not necessary to explain. Probably for the same reason the Popering tree was preferred to any other by the author of the mock poem of Hero and Leander, small 8vo. 1653: “She thought it strange to see a man “In privy walk, and then anan “She stepp'd behind a Popering tree, “And listen'd for some novelty.” Of the parish of Poperin, or Popering, (as we called it) John Leland the Antiquary was parson, in the time of King Henry the Eighth. By him the Poperin pear may have been introduced into England. Malone.

Note return to page 209 *Quarto A, trundle-bed.

Note return to page 210 8He jests at scars,] That is, Mercutio jests, whom he overheard. Johnson. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book— “None can speake of a wound with skill, if he have not a wound felt.” Steevens. He (that person) jests, is merely an allusion to his having conceived himself so armed with the love of Rosalind, that no other beauty could make any impression on him. This is clear from the conversation he has with Mercutio, just before they go to Capulet's. Ritson.

Note return to page 211 9Be not her maid,] Be not a votary to the moon, to Diana. Johnson. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “By all Diana's waiting-women yonder &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 212 1It is my lady, &c;] This line and half I have replaced [from the quarto 1599]. Johnson.

Note return to page 213 2O, that I were a glove upon that hand,] This passage appears to have been ridiculed by Shirley in The School of Compliments, a comedy, 1637: “Oh that I were a flea upon that lip,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 214 3&lblank; touch that check!] The quarto 1597 reads—kiss that cheek. Steevens.

Note return to page 215 4O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night,] Though all the printed copies concur in this reading, yet the latter part of the simile seems to require— As glorious to this sight &lblank; and therefore I have ventured to alter the text so. Theobald. I have restored the old reading, for surely the change was unnecessary. The plain sense is, that Juliet appeared as splendid an object in the vault of heaven obscured by darkness, as an angel could seem to the eyes of mortals, who were falling back to gaze upon him. As glorious to this night, means as glorious appearance in this dark night, &c. It should be observed, however, that the simile agrees precisely with Theobald's alteration, and not so well with the old reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 216 *Folio, lazy-puffing.

Note return to page 217 5&lblank; the lazy-pacing clouds,] Thus corrected from the first edition: in the other, lazy-puffing. Pope.

Note return to page 218 6Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.] For the present punctuation I am accountable. It appears to me to afford a clear sense, which the line as printed in the old copies, where we have a comma after thyself, and no point after though, does not in my apprehension afford. Thou art, however, says Juliet, a being sui generis, amiable and perfect, not tainted by the enmity which your family bears to mine. According to the common punctuation, the adversative particle is used without any propriety, or rather makes the passage nonsense. Though is again used by Shakspeare in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act III. Sc. last, in the same sense: “My legs are longer though, to run away.” Again, in The Taming of a Shrew: “'Would Catharine had never seem him though.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “I would not be so sick though, for his place.” Other writers frequently use though for however. So, in The Fatal Dowry, a tragedy, by Massinger and Field, 1632: “Would you have him your husband that you love, “And can it not be?—He is your servant, though, “And may perform the office of a husband.” Again, in Cupid's Revenge, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; O dissembling woman, “Whom I must reverence though.” Again, in the last speech of The Maid's Tragedy, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 1619: “Look to him though, and bear those bodies in.” Again, in Otway's Venice Preserved: “I thank thee for thy labour though, and him too.” Juliet is simply endeavouring to account for Romeo's being amiable and excellent, though he is a Montague. And, to prove this, she asserts that he merely bears that name, but has none of the qualities of that house. Malone. If this punctuation be right, and the words of the text accurate, we must understand though in the sense of then, a reading proposed by Dr. Johnson: a sense it is perpetually used in by our ancient poets, and sometimes by our author himself. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “What though he love you, Hermia? Lord! what though?” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I keep but three men and a boy yet,—but what though?” Again, in As You Like It: “&lblank; we have no assembly here but beasts; but what though?” Again, in King Henry V.: “It is a simple one, but what though?” Ritson.

Note return to page 219 7&lblank; nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? &c.] The middle line is not found in the original copy of 1597, being added, it should seem, on a revision. The passage in the first copy stands thus: “Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part: “What's in a name? That which we call a rose, &c.” In the copy of 1599, and all the subsequent ancient copies, the words nor any other part were omitted by the oversight of the transcriber or printer, and the lines thus absurdly exhibited: “Nor arm nor face, O be some other name! “Belonging to a man. “What's in a name, &c.” Belonging, &c. evidently was intended to begin a line, as it now does; but the printer having omitted the words nor any other part, took the remainder of the subsequent line, and carried it to that which preceded. The transposition now made needs no note to support it: the context in this and many other places supersedes all arguments. Malone. For the sake of metre, I am willing to suppose our author wrote— 'Longing to man, &c. The same elision occurs in The Taming of a Shrew, vol. v. p. 472: “Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace “As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case.” Steevens.

Note return to page 220 8By any other name &lblank;] Thus the quarto, 1597. All the subsequent ancient copies read—By any other word. Malone.

Note return to page 221 *Quarto A, the divine.

Note return to page 222 †Quarto A, part.

Note return to page 223 9Take all myself.] The elder quarto reads—Take all I have. Steevens.

Note return to page 224 1My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance,] Thus the quarto 1597. The subsequent ancient copies read—of thy tongue's uttering. We meet with almost the same words as those here attributed to Romeo, in King Edward III. a tragedy, 1596: “I might perceive his eye in her eye lost, “His ear to drink her sweet tongue's utterance.” Malone.

Note return to page 225 *Quarto A, displease.

Note return to page 226 2Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.] Thus the original copy. The subsequent ancient copies read—fair maid. “If either thee dislike” was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. So, it likes me well; for it pleases me well. Malone. Dislike here means displease. M. Mason.

Note return to page 227 3With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;] Here also we find Shakspeare following the steps of the author of The Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Approaching near the place from whence his heart had life, “So light he wox, he leap'd the wall, and there he spy'd his wife, “Who in the window watch'd the coming of her lord—” Malone.

Note return to page 228 4&lblank; no let to me.] i. e. no stop or hinderance. So, in Hamlet: “By heaven I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.” Thus the original edition. The subsequent copies read—no stop to me. Malone.

Note return to page 229 5&lblank; there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords;] Beaumont and Fletcher have copied this thought in The Maid in the Mill: “The lady may command, sir; “She bears an eye more dreadful than your weapon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 230 6&lblank; from their sight;] So the first quarto. All the other ancient copies have—from their eyes. Malone.

Note return to page 231 7And, but thou love me, let them find me here;] And so thou do but love me, I care not what may befall me: Let me be found here. Such appears to me to be the meaning. Mr. M. Mason thinks that “but thou love me,” means, unless thou love me; grounding himself, I suppose, on the two subsequent lines. But those contain, in my apprehension, a distinct proposition. He first says, that he is content to be discovered, if he be but secure of her affection; and then adds, that death from the hands of her kinsmen would be preferable to life without her love. But, however, it must be acknowledged, has often in old English the meaning which Mr. M. Mason would affix to it. Malone. Mr. M. Mason is certainly in the right. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “But being charg'd, we will be still by land.” See Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV. Sc. X. Steevens.

Note return to page 232 8Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.] The common acceptation of prorogue, is to postpone to a distant time, which is in fact to delay. But I believe in this place prorogued means continued; and that Romeo means, in the language of lovers, to represent life without her as a continual death; “Death's life with thee, without thee death to live.” M. Mason. “Than death prorogued.” i. e. delayed, deferred to a more distant period. So, in Act IV. Sc. I.: “I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, “On Thursday next be married to this county.” Malone.

Note return to page 233 9&lblank; farewell compliment!] That is, farewell attention to forms. M. Mason.

Note return to page 234 1&lblank; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.] This, although originally from Ovid, may have been caught by our poet from Greene's Metamorphosis: “What! Eriphila, Jove laughs at the perjurie of lovers.” Malone.

Note return to page 235 *So quarto A; folio, behaviour.

Note return to page 236 2&lblank; cunning to be strange.] Cunning is the reading of the quarto 1597, and I have restored it. To be strange, is to put on affected coldness, to appear shy. So, in Greene's Mamillia, 1593: “Is it the fashion in Padua to be so strange with your friends?” Again, in one of the Paston Letters, vol. iii. p. 327: “I pray ye that ye be not strange of writing of letters to me.” Steevens. In the subsequent ancient copies cunning was changed to—coying. Malone.

Note return to page 237 2&lblank; moon &lblank; That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,] This image struck Pope: “The moon-beam trembling falls, “And tips with silver all the walls.” Imit. of Horace. Again, in the celebrated simile on the moon at the conclusion of the eighth book of the Iliad: “And tips with silver ev'ry mountain's head.” Holt White.

Note return to page 238 *Quarto A, Rom. Now by—

Note return to page 239 †Quarto A, glorious.

Note return to page 240 ‡Quarto A, true heart's love.

Note return to page 241 §Quarto A, swear not at all.

Note return to page 242 3Ere one can say—It lightens.] So, in The Miracles of Moses, by Drayton: “&lblank; lightning ceaselessly to burn, “Swifter than thought from place to place to pass, “And being gone, doth suddenly return “Ere you could say precisely what it was.” The same thought occurs in A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Steevens. Drayton's Miracles of Moses was first printed in quarto, in 1604, several years after A Midsummer-Night's Dream, and Romeo and Juliet. Malone.

Note return to page 243 4&lblank; Sweet, good night!] All the intermediate lines from Sweet, good night! [for which the quarto 1597 reads—I hear some coming] to Stay but a little, &c. were added after the first copy. Steevens.

Note return to page 244 5What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?] Here Juliet seemeth as if she meant to promise (i. e. as much as in her lieth) to afford Romeo, in some future instance, that satisfaction which he cannot receive while they remain at their present distance from each other. Amner.

Note return to page 245 6If that thy bent of love be honourable, &c.] In The Tragical Hystory already quoted Juliet uses nearly the same expressions: “&lblank; if your thought be chaste, and have on virtue ground, “If wedlock be the end and mark which your desire hath found, “Obedience set aside, unto my parents due, “The quarrel eke that long ago between our housholds grew, “Both me and mine I will all whole to you betake, “And following you whereso you go, my father's house forsake: “But if by wanton love and by unlawful suit “You think in ripest years to pluck my maidenhood's dainty fruit, “You are beguil'd, and now your Juliet you beseeks, “To cease your suit, and suffer her to live among her likes.” Malone.

Note return to page 246 7To cease thy suit,] So the quarto 1597. The two subsequent quartos and the folio have—thy strife. Malone.

Note return to page 247 8To lure this tassel-gentle back again!] The tassel or tiercel (for so it should be spelt) is the male of the gosshawk; so called, because it is a tierce or third less than the female. This is equally true of all birds of prey. In The Booke of Falconrye, by George Turberville, Gent. printed in 1575, I find a whole chapter on the falcon-gentle, &c. So, in The Guardian, by Massinger: “&lblank; then, for an evening flight, “A tiercel-gentle.” Taylor the water poet uses the same expression: “&lblank; By casting out the lure, she makes the tassel-gentle come to her fist.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. iv.: “Having far off espyde a tassel-gent, “Which after her his nimble wings doth straine.” Again, in Decker's Match Me in London, 1631: “Your tassel-gentle, she's lur'd off and gone.” This species of hawk had the epithet of gentle annexed to it, from the ease with which it was tamed, and its attachment to man. Steevens. It appears from the old books on this subject that certain hawks were considered as appropriated to certain ranks. The tercel-gentle was appropriated to the prince; and thence, we may suppose, was chosen by Juliet as an appellation for her beloved Romeo. In an ancient treatise entitled Hawking, Hunting, and Fishing, with the true Measures of Blowing, is the following passage: “The names of all manner of hawkes, and to whom they belong: “For a Prince. “There is a falcon gentle, and a tercel gentle; and these are for a prince.” Malone.

Note return to page 248 9&lblank; tear the cave &lblank;] This strong expression is more suitably employed by Milton: “A shout that tore hell's concave &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 249 *Quartos C, D, love.

Note return to page 250 1Madam.] Thus the original copy of 1597. In the two subsequent copies and the folio we have—My niece. What word was intended it is difficult to say. The editor of the second folio substituted —My sweet. I have already shown, that all the alterations in that copy were made at random; and have therefore preserved the original word, though less tender than that which was arbitrarily substituted in its place. Malone. As I shall always suppose the second folio to have been corrected, in many places, by the aid of better copies than fell into the hands of the editors of the preceding volume, I have in the present instance, as well as many others, followed the authority rejected by Mr. Malone. I must add, that the cold, distant, and formal appellation— Madam, which has been already put into the mouth of the Nurse, would but ill accord with the more familiar feelings of the ardent Romeo, to whom Juliet has just promised every gratification that youth and beauty could bestow. Steevens.

Note return to page 251 *Quarto A, Too loving.

Note return to page 252 †Quarto A, I would that I were sleep and peace of sweet to rest.

Note return to page 253 2Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell; His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.] Thus the quarto 1597, except that it has good instead of dear. That of 1599, and the folio, read: “Hence will I to my ghostly frier's close cell, “His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.” Malone.

Note return to page 254 3The grey-ey'd morn, &c.] These four lines are here replaced, conformable to the first edition, where such a description is much more proper than in the mouth of Romeo just before, when he was full of nothing but the thoughts of his mistress. Pope. In the folio these lines are printed twice over, and given once to Romeo, and once to the Friar. Johnson. The same mistake has likewise happened in the quartos 1599, 1609, and 1637. Steevens.

Note return to page 255 4And flecked darkness &lblank;] Flecked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or variegated. In this sense it is used by Churchyard, in his Legend of Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Mowbray, speaking of the Germans, says: “All jagg'd and frounc'd, with divers colours deck'd, “They swear, they curse, and drink till they be fleck'd.” Lord Surrey uses the same word in his translation of the fourth Æneid: “Her quivering cheekes flecked with deadly staine.” The same image occurs also in Much Ado About Nothing, Act V. Sc. III.: “Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.” Steevens. The word is still used in Scotland, where “a flecked cow” is a common expression. See the Glossary to Gawin Douglas's translation of Virgil, in v. fleckit. Malone.

Note return to page 256 5From forth day's path and Titan's firy wheels:] Thus the quarto 1597. That of 1599, and the folio, have—burning wheels. The modern editions read corruptly, after the second folio: “From forth day's path-way made by Titan's wheels.” Malone. Here again I have followed this reprobated second folio. It is easy to understand how darkness might reel “from forth day's path-way,” &c. But what is meant by—forth “Titan's firy wheels?” A man may stagger out of a path, but not out of a wheel. So, in Jocasta's address to the sun in the &grF;&grO;&grI;&grN;&grI;&grS;&grS;&grA;&grI; of Euripides: &grW; &grt;&grhg;&grn; &gres;&grn; &gra;&grs;&grt;&grr;&gro;&gri;&grst; &gro;&grus;&grr;&gra;&grn;&gro;&gruc;&grT;&grE;&grM;&grN;&grW;&grN; &grO;&grD;&grO;&grN; Steevens. These lines are thus quoted in England's Parnassus, or the Choysest Flowers of our Modern Poets, &c. 1600: “The gray-eyde morne smiles on the frowning night, “Cheering the easterne cloudes with streames of light; “And darknesse flected, like a drunkard reeles “From forth daye's path-way made by Titan's wheels.” So that the various reading in the last line does not originate in an arbitrary alteration by the editor of the second folio, as the ingenious commentator supposes. Holt White. It is common with our author to form the latter part of his sentence as if the first part had been differently constructed. So in Othello, Act I. Sc. I.: “As when by night and negligence, the fire “Is spied in populous cities.” See notes on that passage. England's Parnassus is no authority, as it abounds with blunders. Thus in the Rape of Lucrece: “O opportunity &lblank; “'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason.” which is thus given in England's Parnassus, p. 222: “'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at lawiers reason.” Malone. I see no difficulty: forth is away from. An amusing list might be made out of the errors in England's Parnassus. One of the most ludicrous is in a quotation from Fairfax's Tasso, where he is describing a furious bull: “And with his foot kicks up the sand on high:” which that miscellany thus exhibits: “And with his foot kicks up his hand on high.” Boswell.

Note return to page 257 6I must up-fill this osier cage of ours, &c.] So, in the 13th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “His happy time he spends the works of God to see, “In those so sundry herbs which there in plenty grow, “Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know. “And in a little maund, being made of oziers small, “Which serveth him to do full many a thing withal, “He very choicely sorts his simples got abroad.” Drayton is speaking of a hermit. Steevens.

Note return to page 258 7&lblank; and precious-juiced flowers.] Shakspeare, on his introduction of Friar Laurence, has very artificially prepared us for the part he is afterwards to sustain. Having thus early discovered him to be a chemist, we are not surprized when we find him furnishing the draught which produces the catastrophe of the piece. I owe this remark to Dr. Farmer. Steevens. In the passage before us Shakspeare had the poem in his thoughts: “But not in vain, my child, hath all my wand'ring been;— “What force the stones, the plants, and metals, have to work, “And divers other thinges that in the bowels of earth do lurk, “With care I have sought out, with pain I did them prove.” Malone.

Note return to page 259 8The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb:] “Omniparens, eadem rerum commune sepulchrum.” Lucretius. “The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.” Milton. Steevens. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “&lblank; Time's the king of men, “For he's their parent, and he is their grave.” Malone.

Note return to page 260 9&lblank; powerful grace,] Efficacious virtue. Johnson.

Note return to page 261 1For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,] The quarto 1597 reads— “For nought so vile that vile on earth doth live.” Steevens.

Note return to page 262 2&lblank; to the earth &lblank;] i. e. to the inhabitants of the earth. Malone.

Note return to page 263 *Quarto A, Revolts to vice, and stumbles on abuse.

Note return to page 264 3&lblank; of this small flower &lblank;] So the quarto 1597. All the subsequent ancient copies have—this weak flower. Malone.

Note return to page 265 4&lblank; with that part &lblank;] i. e. with the part which smells; with the olfactory nerves. Malone.

Note return to page 266 5Two such opposed foes encamp them still In man &lblank;] Foes is the reading of the oldest copy; kings of that in 1609. Shakspeare might have remembered the following passage in the old play of The Misfortunes of Arthur, 1587: “Peace hath three foes encamped in our breasts, “Ambition, wrath, and envie &lblank;” Steevens. So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “&lblank; terror, and dear modesty, “Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.” Thus the quarto of 1597. The quarto of 1599, and all the subsequent ancient copies, read—such opposed kings. Our author has more than once alluded to these opposed foes, contending for the dominion of man. So, in Othello: “Yea, curse his better angel from his side.” Again, in his 44th Sonnet: “To win me soon to hell, my female evil “Tempteth my better angel from my side: “Yet this I ne'er shall know, but live in doubt, “Till my bad angel fire my good one out.” Malone.

Note return to page 267 6Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.] So, in our author's 99th Sonnet: “A vengeful canker eat him up to death.” Malone.

Note return to page 268 *Quarto A, Good morrow to my ghostly confessor.

Note return to page 269 †Quarto B, and the rest, sweet.

Note return to page 270 7&lblank; with unstuff'd brain, &c.] The copy 1597 reads: “&lblank; with unstuff'd brains “Doth couch his limmes, there golden sleepe remaines.” Steevens.

Note return to page 271 8&lblank; both our remedies Within thy help and holy physick lies:] This is one of the passages in which our author has sacrificed grammar to rhyme. M. Mason. See Cymbeline, Act II. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 272 *Quarto B, rest homely.

Note return to page 273 *Quarto A, of love.

Note return to page 274 †Quarto B, Thy groans yet ringing in my ancient ears.

Note return to page 275 ‡Quarto A, If ever thou wert thus, and these woes thine.

Note return to page 276 §Quarto A, I pray thee, chide me not; her I love now.

Note return to page 277 9&lblank; and could not spell.] Thus the quarto 1597. The subsequent ancient copies all have— “Thy love did read by rote that could not spell.” I mention these minute variations only to show, what I have so often urged, the very high value of first editions. Malone.

Note return to page 278 1The two following lines were added since the first copy of this play. Steevens.

Note return to page 279 2&lblank; I stand on sudden haste.] i. e. it is of the utmost consequence for me to be hasty. So, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; it stands me much upon, “To stop all hopes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 280 *Quarto A, Why, what's become of Romeo.

Note return to page 281 3&lblank; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft;] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Then she will get the upshot, by cleaving of the pin.” See note on the word—pin, vol. iv. p. 351. A butt-shaft was the kind of arrow used in shooting at butts. Steevens. The allusion is to archery. The clout or white mark at which the arrows are directed, was fastened by a black pin placed in the center of it. To hit this was the highest ambition of every marksman. So, in No Wit like a Woman's, a comedy, by Middleton, 1657: “They have shot two arrows without heads, “They cannot stick i' the but yet: hold out, knight, “And I'll cleave the black pin i' the midst of the white.” Again, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590: “For kings are clouts that every man shoots at, “Our crown the pin that thousands seek to cleave.” Malone.

Note return to page 282 4More than prince of cats,] Tybert, the name given to the cat, in the story-book of Reynard the Fox. Warburton So, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “&lblank; tho' you were Tybert, the long-tail'd prince of cats.” Again, in Have with You to Saffron Walden, &c. 1598: “&lblank; not Tibalt prince of cats,” &c. Steevens. It appears to me that these speeches are improperly divided, and that they ought to run thus: “Ben. Why, what is Tybalt more than prince of cats? “Mer. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments,” &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 283 5&lblank; I can tell you.] So the first quarto. These words are omitted in all the subsequent ancient copies. Malone.

Note return to page 284 6&lblank; courageous captain of compliments.] A complete master of all the laws of ceremony, the principal man in the doctrine of punctilio. “A man of compliments, whom right and wrong “Have chose as umpire;” says our author, of Don Armado, the Spaniard, in Love's Labour's Lost. Johnson.

Note return to page 285 7&lblank; keeps time, distance, and proportion;] So Ben Jonson's Bobadil: “Note your distance, keep your due proportion of time.” Steevens.

Note return to page 286 8&lblank; his minim rest,] A minim is a note of slow time in musick, equal to two crotchets. Malone.

Note return to page 287 9&lblank; the very butcher of a silk button,] So, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth.” This phrase also occurs in the Fantaisies de Bruscambille, 1612, p. 181: “&lblank; un coup de mousquet sans fourchette dans le sixiesme bouton &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 288 1&lblank; a gentleman of the very first house,—of the first and second cause:] i. e. one who pretends to be at the head of his family, and quarrels by the book. See a note on As You Like It, Act V. Sc. VI. Warburton. Tybalt cannot pretend to be at the head of his family, as both Capulet and Romeo barred his claim to that elevation. “A gentleman of the first house;—of the first and second cause,” is a gentleman of the first rank, of the first eminence among these duellists; and one who understands the whole science of quarrelling, and will tell you of the first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to fight.—The Clown, in As You Like It, talks of the seventh cause in the same sense. Steevens. We find the first of these expressions in Fletcher's Women Pleas'd: “&lblank; a gentleman's gone then; “A gentleman of the first house; there's the end of't.” Malone.

Note return to page 289 2&lblank; the hay!] All the terms of the modern fencing-school were originally Italian; the rapier, or small thrusting sword, being first used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you have it, used when a thrust reaches the antagonist, from which our fencers, on the same occasion, without knowing, I suppose, any reason for it, cry out, ha! Johnson.

Note return to page 290 3&lblank; affecting fantasticoes;] Thus the oldest copy, and rightly. The modern editors read—phantasies. Nash, in his Have with You to Saffron Walden, 1596, says—“Follow some of these new-fangled Galiardo's and Signor Fantastico's,” &c. Again, in Decker's comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600:—“I have danc'd with queens, dallied with ladies, worn strange attires, seen fantasticoes, convers'd with humorists,” &c. Steevens. Fantasticoes is the reading of the first quarto, 1597; all the subsequent ancient copies read arbitrarily and corruptly—phantacies. Malone.

Note return to page 291 4Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire,] Humorously apostrophising his ancestors, whose sober times were unacquainted with the fopperies here complained of. Warburton.

Note return to page 292 *Quarto A, pardon-mees; quarto B and folio, pardons-mees.

Note return to page 293 5&lblank; these pardonnez-moy's,] Pardonnez-moi became the language of doubt or hesitation among men of the sword, when the point of honour was grown so delicate, that no other mode of contradiction would be endured. Johnson.

Note return to page 294 6&lblank; stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench?] This conceit is lost, if the double meaning of the word form be not attended to. Farmer. A quibble on the two meanings of the word form occurs in Love's Labour's Lost, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; sitting with her on the form, and taken following her into the park; which, put together, is, in manner and form following.” Steevens. “Who stand so much on the new form,” &c. Perhaps here is a further allusion. I have read that during the reign of large breeches (for which see Strype, Annals, v. i. Appendix, p. 78, and v. ii. Appendix, No. 17; also a note of Mr. Steevens's on Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. I.) it was necessary to cut away hollow places in the benches in the House of Commons, to make room for those monstrous protuberances, without which contrivance they who stood on the new form could not sit at ease in the old bench. Blakeway.

Note return to page 295 7O, their bons, their bons!] Mercutio is here ridiculing those Frenchified fantastical coxcombs whom he calls pardonnez-moi's: and therefore, I suspect here he meant to write French too. “O, their bon's! their bon's!” i. e. how ridiculous they make themselves in crying out, good, and being in ecstasies with every trifle; as he had just described them before: “&lblank; a very good blade!” &c. Theobald. The old copies read—O, their bones, their bones! Mr. Theobald's emendation is confirmed by a passage in Greene's Tu Quoque, from which we learn that bon jour was the common salutation of those who affected to appear fine gentlemen in our author's time: “No, I want the bon jour and the tu quoque, which yonder gentleman has.” Malone.

Note return to page 296 8&lblank; Thisbé, a grey eye or so,] He means to allow that Thisbé had a very fine eye: for from various passages it appears that a grey eye was in our author's time thought eminently beautiful. This may seem strange to those who are not conversant with ancient phraseology; but a grey eye undoubtedly meant what we now denominate a blue eye. Thus, in Venus and Adonis: “Her two blue windows faintly she upheaveth,”— i. e. the windows or lids of her blue eyes. In the very same poem the eyes of Venus are termed grey: “Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning.” Again, in Cymbeline: “To see the inclosed lights, now canopy'd “Under these windows: white and azure lac'd; “With blue of heaven's own tinct.” In Twelfth Night, Olivia says, “I will give out divers schedules of my beauty;—as item, two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them,” &c. So Julia, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, speaking of her rival's eyes, as eminently beautiful, says— “Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine.” And Chaucer has the same comparison: “&lblank; hire eyes gray as glas.” This comparison proves decisively what I have asserted; for clear and transparent glass is not what we now call grey, but blue, or azure. Malone. If grey eyes signified blue eyes, how happened it that our author, in The Tempest, Act I. Sc. I. should have styled Sycorax a— blue-eyed hag, instead of a grey-eyed one? See, also, Titus Andronicus, Act II. Sc. II. Steevens. In Barret's Alvearie, graie is translated cæsius, glaucus. The two quotations I have given from Venus and Adonis, where the same goddess is represented as having both grey and blue eyes, put the matter beyond a doubt. Malone.

Note return to page 297 9&lblank; your French slop.] Slops are large loose breeches or trowsers, worn at present only by sailors. Steevens. See vol. iv. p. 367. Malone.

Note return to page 298 1What counterfeit, &c.? Mer. The slip, sir, the slip;] To understand this play upon the words counterfeit and slip, it should be observed that in our author's time there was a counterfeit piece of money distinguished by the name of a slip. This will appear in the following instances: “And therefore he went and got him certain slips, which are counterfeit pieces of money, being brasse, and covered over with silver, which the common people call slips.” Thieves falling out, True Men come by their Goods, by Robert Greene. Again: “I had like t' have been “Abus'd i' the business, had the slip slur'd on me, “A counterfeit.” Magnetick Lady, Act III. Sc. VI. Other instances may be seen in Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. v. p. 396, edit. 1780. Reed. Again, in Skialetheia, a collection of epigrams, satires, &c. 1598: “Is not he fond then which a slip receives “For current money? She which thee deceaves “With copper guilt, is but a slip &lblank;.” It appears from a passage in Gascoigne's Adventures of Master F. I. no date, that a slip was “a piece of money which was then fallen to three halfpence, and they called them slippes.” P. 281. Steevens. The slip is again used equivocally in No Wit like a Woman's, a comedy, by Middleton, 1657: “Clown. “Because you shall be sure on't, you have given me a nine-pence here, and I'll give you the slip for it. [Exit.]” Malone.

Note return to page 299 2&lblank; pink of courtesy.] This appears to have been an ancient formulary mode of encomium: for in a ballad written in the time of Edward II. (MS. Harl. No. 2253,) we have the following lines: “Heo is lilie of largesse, “Heo is paruenke of prouesse, “Heo is solsecle of suetnesse,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 300 3&lblank; then is my pump well flowered.] Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The fundamental idea is, that Romeo wore pinked pumps, that is, punched with holes in figures. Johnson. See the shoes of the morris-dancers in the plate at the conclusion of The First Part of King Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's remarks annexed to it. It was the custom to wear ribbons in the shoes formed into the shape of roses, or of any other flowers. So, in The Masque of Flowers, acted by the Gentlemen of Gray's-Inn, 1614:— “Every masker's pump was fasten'd with a flower suitable to his cap.” Steevens.

Note return to page 301 4Well said:] So the original copy. The quarto of 1599, and the other ancient copies, have—Sure wit, follow, &c. What was meant, I suppose, was—Sheer wit! follow, &c. and this corruption may serve to justify an emendation that I have proposed in a passage in Antony and Cleopatra, Act II. Sc. V. where I am confident sure was a printer's blunder. Malone. By sure wit might be meant, wit that hits its mark. Steevens.

Note return to page 302 5O single-soled jest,] This epithet is here used equivocally. It formerly signified mean or contemptible: and that is one of the senses in which it is used here. So, in Holinshed's Description of Ireland, p. 23: “which was not unlikely, considering that a meane tower might serve such single-soale kings as were at those daies in Ireland.” Malone. “O single-soled jest,” i. e. slight, unsolid, feeble. This compound epithet occurs likewise in Hall's second book of Satires: “And scorne contempt it selfe that doth excite “Each single-sold squire to set you at so light.” Again, in Decker's Wonderful Yeare, 1603, we meet with “a single-sole fidler.” Again, in A Short Relation of a Long Journey, &c. by Taylor, the water-poet: “There was also a single soal'd gentle-woman, of the last edition, who would vouchfafe me not one poor glance of her eye-beams,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 303 6&lblank; my wits fail.] Thus the quarto 1597. The quarto 1599, and the folio—my wits faints. Steevens.

Note return to page 304 *So quarto A; the rest, our.

Note return to page 305 †So quarto A; the rest, am.

Note return to page 306 7&lblank; if thy wits run the wild-goose chace, I have done;] One kind of horse-race, which resembled the flight of wild-geese, was formerly known by this name. Two horses were started together; and which ever rider could get the lead, the other was obliged to follow him over whatever ground the foremost jockey chose to go. That horse which could distance the other, won the race. See more concerning this diversion in Chambers's Dictionary, last edition, under the article Chace. This barbarous sport is enumerated by Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, as a recreation much in vogue in his time among gentlemen: “Riding of great horses, running at ring, tilts and turnaments, horse races, wild-goose chases, are the disports of great men.” P. 266, edit. 1632, fol. This account explains the pleasantry kept up between Romeo and his gay companion. “My wits fail,” says Mercutio. Romeo exclaims briskly—“Switch and spurs, switch and spurs.” To which Mercutio rejoins—“Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chace,” &c. Holt White.

Note return to page 307 8I will bite thee by the ear &lblank;] So, Sir Epicure Mammon to Face, in Ben Jonson's Alchemist: “Slave, I could bite thine ear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 308 9&lblank; good goose, bite not.] Is a proverbial expression, to be found in Ray's Collection; and is used in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599. Steevens.

Note return to page 309 1&lblank; a very bitter sweeting:] A bitter sweeting, is an apple of that name. So, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “&lblank; as well crabs as sweetings for his summer fruits.” Again, in Fair Em, 1631: “&lblank; what, in displeasure gone! “And left me such a bitter sweet to gnaw upon?” Again, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. viii. fol. 174, b: “For all such tyme of love is lore, “And like unto the bitter swete; “For though it thinke a man fyrst swete, “He shall well felen at laste   ”That it is sower,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 310 2&lblank; a wit of cheverel,] Cheverel is soft leather for gloves. Johnson. So, in The Two Maids of More-Clack, 1609: “Drawing on love's white hand a glove of warmth, “Not cheveril stretching to such profanation.” Again, in The Owl, by Drayton: “A cheverell conscience, and a searching wit.” Steevens. Cheveril is from chevreuil, roebuck. Musgrave.

Note return to page 311 3&lblank; proves thee far and wide a broad goose.] To afford some meaning to this poor but intended witticism. Dr. Farmer would read—“proves thee far and wide abroad, goose.” Steevens.

Note return to page 312 4&lblank; to hide his bauble in a hole.] It has been already observed by Sir J. Hawkins, in a note on All's Well that Ends Well, Act IV. Sc. V. that a bauble was one of the accoutrements of a licensed fool or jester. So again, in Sir William D'Avenant's Albovine, 1629: “For such rich widows there love court fools, and use to play with their baubles.” Again, in The Longer Thou Livest, the More Fool Thou Art, 1570: “And as stark an idiot as ever bare bable.” See the plate at the end of King Henry IV. P. I. with Mr. Tollet's observations on it. Steevens.

Note return to page 313 5&lblank; against the hair.] A contrepoil: Fr. An expression equivalent to one which we now use—“against the grain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 314 6Mer. A sail, a sail,] Thus the quarto 1597. In the subsequent ancient copies these words are erroneously given to Romeo, and the next speech to Benvolio. Malone.

Note return to page 315 8My fan, Peter.] The business of Peter carrying the Nurse's fan, seems ridiculous according to modern manners; but I find such was formerly the practice. In an old pamphlet called The Serving Man's Comfort, 1598, we are informed, “The mistress must have one to carry her cloake and hood, another her fanne.” Farmer. Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan.” Again, in Every Man out of his Humour; “If any lady, &c. wants an upright gentleman in the nature of a gentleman-usher, &c. who can hide his face with her fan,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 316 *So quarto A; the rest, fairer face.

Note return to page 317 9God ye good den,] i. e. God give you a good even. The first of these contractions is common among the ancient comick writers. So, in R. Brome's Northern Lass, 1633: “God you good even, sir.” Steevens.

Note return to page 318 1&lblank; hand of the dial, &c.] In The Puritan Widow, 1607, which has been attributed to our author, is a similar expression: “&lblank; the feskewe of the diall is upon the chrisse-crosse of noon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 319 2&lblank; the prick of noon.] I marvel much that mine associates in the task of expounding the darker phrases of Shakspeare, should have overlooked this, which also hath already occurred in King Henry VI. P. III. Act I. Sc. IV: “And made an evening at the noon-tide prick.” Prick meaneth point, i. e. punctum, a note of distinction in writing, a stop. So, in Timothy Bright's Characterie, or an Arte of Shorte, &c. Writing by Characters, 12mo. 1588: “If the worde, by reason of tence ende in ed, as I loved, then make a prick in the character of the word, on the left side.” Again: “The present tence wanteth a pricke, and so is knowen from other tences.”—Again: “A worde of doing, that endeth in ing, as eating, drinking, &c. requireth two prickes under the bodie of the character,” &c. Amner.

Note return to page 320 *Quarto A, conference.

Note return to page 321 3No hare, sir;] Mercutio having roared out, So ho! the cry of the sportsmen when they start a hare, Romeo asks what he has found. And Mercutio answers, No hare, &c. The rest is a series of quibbles unworthy of explanation, which he who does not understand, needs not lament his ignorance. Johnson. So ho! is the term made use of in the field when the hare is found in her seat, and not when she is started. A. C.

Note return to page 322 4An old hare hoar,] Hoar or hoary, is often used for mouldy, as things grow white from moulding. So, in Pierce Pennyless's Supplication to the Devil, 1595: “&lblank; as hoary as Dutch butter.” Again, in F. Beaumont's Letter to Speght on his edition of Chaucer, 1602: “Many of Chaucer's words are become as it were vinew'd and hoarie with over long lying.” Again, in Every Man out of his Humour: “&lblank; mice and rats “Eat up his grain; or else that it might rot “Within the hoary ricks e'en as it stands.” Steevens. These lines appear to have been part of an old song. In the quarto 1597, we have here this stage direction; “He walks by them, [i. e. the Nurse and Peter,] and sings.” Malone.

Note return to page 323 5&lblank; lady, lady, lady.] The burthen of an old song. See Twelfth Night, Act II. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 324 6Marry, farewell!] These words I have recovered from the quarto 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 325 7&lblank; what saucy merchant was this, &c.] The term merchant which was, and even now is, frequently applied to the lowest sort of dealers, seems anciently to have been used on these familiar occasions in contradistinction to gentleman; signifying that the person showed by his behaviour he was a low fellow. So, in Churchyard's Chance, 1580: “What sausie marchaunt speaketh now, saied Venus in her rage.” The term chap, i. e. chapman, a word of the same import with merchant in its less respectable sense, is still in common use among the vulgar, as a general denomination for any person of whom they mean to speak with freedom or disrespect. Steevens. So, in Henry VI. P. I. Act II. Sc. III. “This is a riddling merchant for the nonce.” Malone.

Note return to page 326 8&lblank; of his ropery? Ropery was anciently used in the same sense as roguery is now. So, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “Thou art very pleasant and full of thy roperye.” Rope-tricks are mentioned in another place. Steevens. See vol. v. p. 401. Malone.

Note return to page 327 *Quarto A, If he stand to.

Note return to page 328 9&lblank; none of his skains-mates.] None of his skains-mates means, I apprehend, none of his cut-throat companions. Malone. A skein or skain was either a knife or a short dagger. By skains-mates the Nurse means none of his loose companions who frequent the fencing-school with him, where we may suppose the exercise of this weapon was taught. The word is used in the old tragedy of Soliman and Perseda, 1599: “Against the light-foot Irish have I serv'd, “And in my skin bare tokens of their skeins.” Again, in the comedy called Lingua, &c. 1607. At the opening of the piece Lingua is represented as apparelled in a particular manner, and among other things—having “a little skene tied in a purple scarf.” Green, in his Quip for an Upstart Courtier, describes, “an ill-favoured knave, who wore by his side a skeine like a brewer's bung-knife.” Skein is the Irish word for a knife. Again, in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, 1608: “&lblank; with this frantick and untamed passion, “To whet their skeins.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. v. ch. xxvi.: “And hidden skeines from underneath their forged garments drew.” Again, in Chapman's translation of Homer's Hymn to Apollo: “&lblank; Let every man purvey “A skeane, or slaughtering steel,” &c Mr. M. Mason, however, supposes the Nurse uses skains-mates for kins-mates, and ropery for roguery. Steevens.

Note return to page 329 †Quarto A, If I see time and place.

Note return to page 330 *Quarto A, Jack.

Note return to page 331 1&lblank; if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say,] So, in A Handful of Pleasant Delightes, containing sundry new Sonets, &c. 1584: “When they see they may her win, “They leave then where they did begin: “They prate, and make the matter nice, “And leave her in fooles paradise.” So, in Barnabe Rich's Farewell: “Knowing the fashion of you men to be such, as by praisyng our beautie, you think to bring us into a fooles paradize.” Malone.

Note return to page 332 2&lblank; protest;] Whether the repetition of this word conveyed any idea peculiarly comick to Shakspeare's audience, is not at present to be determined. The use of it, however, is ridiculed in the old comedy of Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “There is not the best duke's son in France dares say, I protest, till he be one and thirty years old at least; for the inheritance of that word is not to be possessed before.” See Donne's fourth Satire. Steevens.

Note return to page 333 3&lblank; Here is for thy pains.] So, in The Tragical Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Then he vi crowns of gold out of his pocket drew, “And gave them her;—a slight reward, quoth he; and so adieu.” Malone.

Note return to page 334 4&lblank; like a tackled stair;] Like stairs of rope in the tackle of a ship. Johnson. A stair, for a flight of stairs, is still the language of Scotland, and was probably once common to both kingdoms. Malone.

Note return to page 335 5&lblank; top-gallant of my joy &lblank;] The top-gallant is the highest extremity of the mast of a ship. So, in Reynolds's God's Revenge against Murder, b. i. Hist. iv.: “&lblank; which so spread the sails of his ambition, and hoysted his fame from top to top-gallant, that,” &c. The expression is common to many writers; among the rest, to Markham, in his English Arcadia, 1607: “&lblank; beholding in the high top-gallant of his valour.” Again, in Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606: “&lblank; that, vailing top-gallant, she return'd,” &c. Steevens. Top-gallant masts are small masts fixed to the heads of the main and fore top-masts. Kersey's Dict. Malone.

Note return to page 336 *Quarto A, conduct.

Note return to page 337 6Two may keep counsel, &c.] This proverb, with a slight variation, has been introduced in Titus Andronicus. Steevens.

Note return to page 338 7I warrant thee;] I, which is not in the quartos or first folio, was supplied by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 339 8Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady—Lord, lord! —when 'twas a little prating thing, &lblank;] So, in the Poem: “And how she gave her suck in youth, she leaveth not to tell, “A pretty babe, quoth she, it was, when it was young; “Lord, how it could full prettily have prated with its tongue,” &c. This dialogue is not found in Painter's Rhomeo and Julietta. Malone.

Note return to page 340 9Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?] By this question the Nurse means to insinuate that Romeo's image was ever in the mind of Juliet, and that they would be married. Rosemary being conceived to have the power of strengthening the memory, was an emblem of remembrance, and of the affection of lovers, and (for this reason probably,) was worn at weddings. So, in a Handfull of Pleasant Delites, &c. 1584: “Rosemary is for remembrance, “Betweene us daie and night, “Wishing that I might alwaies have “You present in my sight.” Again, in our author's Hamlet: “There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.” That rosemary was much used at weddings, appears from many passages in the old plays. So, in The Noble Spanish Soldier, 1634: “I meet few but are stuck with rosemary; every one ask'd me who was to be married?” Again, in The Wit of a Woman, 1604: “What is here to do? Wine and cakes, and rosemary, and nosegaies? What, a wedding?” Malone. On a former occasion, the author of the preceding note has suspected me of too much refinement. Let the reader judge whether he himself is not equally culpable in the present instance. The Nurse, I believe, is guiltless of so much meaning as is here imputed to her question. Steevens. What then does she mean? We are told, immediately afterwards, that Juliet has “the prettiest sententious of it.” Malone.

Note return to page 341 1Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name, &c.] It is a little mortifying, that the sense of this odd stuff, when found, should not be worth the pains of retrieving it: “&lblank; spissis indigna theatris “Scripta pudet recitare, et nugis addere pondus.” The Nurse is represented as a prating silly creature; she says, she will tell Romeo a good joke about his mistress, and asks him, whether Rosemary and Romeo do not begin both with a letter; He says, Yes, an R. She, who, we must suppose, could not read, thought he had mocked her, and says, No, sure, I know better: our dog's name is R, yours begins with another letter. This is natural enough, and in character. R put her in mind of that sound which is made by dogs when they snarl; and therefore, I presume, she says, that is the dog's name, R in schools, being called The dog's letter. Ben Jonson, in his English Grammar, says, R is the dog's letter, and hirreth in the sound. “Irritata canis quod R. R. quam plurima dicat.” Lucil. Warburton. Dr. Warburton reads—R. is for Thee? Steevens. I believe we should read—R. is for the dog. No; I know it begins with some other letter. Tyrwhitt. I have adopted this emendation, though Dr. Farmer has since recommended another which should seem equally to deserve attention. He would either omit name or insert letter. The dog's letter, as the same gentleman observes, is pleasantly exemplified in Barclay's Ship of Fools, 1578: “This man malicious which troubled is with wrath, “Nought els soundeth but the hoorse letter R. “Though all be well, yet he none aunswere hath “Save the dogges letter glowming with nar, nar.” Steevens. Erasmus in explaining the adage “canina facundia,” says, “R. litera quæ in rixando prima est, canina vocatur.” I think it is used in this sense more than once in Rabelais: and in the Alchemist Subtle says, in making out Abel Drugger's name, “And right anenst him a dog snarling er.” Douce. Mr. Tyrwhitt's alteration is certainly superior to either Dr. Warburton's (Thee? no;) or one formerly proposed by Dr. Johnson (the nonce) not but the old reading is as good, if not better, when properly regulated; e. g. Ah mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the—no; I know it begins with some other letter. Ritson. This passage is not in the original copy of 1597. The quarto 1590 and folio read—Ah, mocker, that's the dog's name. Malone. To the notes on this passage perhaps the following illustration may not improperly be added from Nash's Summers Last Will and Testament, 1600, of dogs: “They arre and barke at night against the moone.” Todd.

Note return to page 342 2Peter, take my fan, and go before.] Thus the first quarto. The subsequent ancient copies, instead of these words, have— Before, and apace. Malone. This custom of having a fan-carrier is also mentioned by Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 603: “&lblank; doe you heare, good man; “Now give me pearle, and carry you my fan.” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 3&lblank; should be thoughts, &c.] The speech is thus continued in the quarto 1597: “&lblank; should be thoughts, “And run more swift than hasty powder fir'd, “Doth hurry from the fearful cannon's mouth. “Oh, now she comes! Tell me, gentle Nurse, “What says my love?—” The greatest part of the scene is likewise added since that edition. Shakspeare, however, seems to have thought one of the ideas comprised in the foregoing quotation from the earliest quarto too valuable to be lost. He has therefore inserted it in Romeo's first speech to the Apothecary, in Act V.: “As violently, as hasty powder fir'd “Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.” Steevens.

Note return to page 344 *Quarto A, O now she comes!—Tell me, gentle nurse, What says my love?

Note return to page 345 4If good, thou sham'st the musick of sweet news, By playing it to me with so sour a face.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; needs so tart a favour, “To trumpet such good tidings!” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; if it be summer-news, “Smile to it before.” Malone.

Note return to page 346 *Quarto A, Oh, I am weary.

Note return to page 347 5&lblank; What a jaunt have I had!] This is the reading of the folio. The quarto reads: “&lblank; What a jaunce have I had!” The two words appear to have been formerly synonymous. See King Richard II.: “Spur-gall'd and tir'd by jauncing Bolingbroke.” Malone.

Note return to page 348 6No, no: but all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? what of that?] So, in The Tragicall History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Tell me else what, quod she, this evermore I thought; “But of our marriage, say at once, what answer have you brought?” Malone.

Note return to page 349 *Quarto A, Marry, he sayes.

Note return to page 350 *Quarto A, Marry, he sayes.

Note return to page 351 *Quarto A, A bridegroom to make you a bride.

Note return to page 352 †Quarto A: Nur. Doth this newes please you now? Jul. How doth her better words revive my heart. Thanks, gentle nurse, dispatch thy business, And Ile not fail to meet my Romeo.

Note return to page 353 7This scene was entirely new formed: the reader may be pleased to have it as it was first written: “Rom. Now, father Laurence, in thy holy grant “Consists the good of me and Juliet. “Friar. Without more words, I will do all I may “To make you happy, if in me it lie. “Rom. This morning here she 'pointed we should meet, “And consummate those never-parting bands, “Witness of our hearts' love, by joining hands; “And come she will. “Friar. I guess she will indeed: “Youth's love is quick, swifter than swiftest speed. “Enter Juliet somewhat fast, and embraceth Romeo. “See where she comes!— “So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower; “Of love and joy, see, see the sovereign power! “Jul. Romeo! “Rom. My Juliet, welcome! As do waking eyes “(Clos'd in night's mists) attend the frolick day, “So Romeo hath expected Juliet; “And thou art come. “Jul. I am (if I be day) “Come to my sun; shine forth, and make me fair. “Rom. All beauteous fairness dwelleth in thine eyes. “Jul. Romeo, from thine all brightness doth arise. “Friar. Come, wantons, come, the stealing hours do pass; “Defer embracements to some fitter time; “Part for a time, ‘you shall not be alone, “Till holy church hath join'd you both in one.’ “Rom. Lead, holy father, all delay seems long. “Jul. Make haste, make haste, this ling'ring doth us wrong. “Friar. O, soft and fair makes sweetest work they say; “Haste is a common hind'rer in cross-way. [Exeunt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 354 8These violent delights have violent ends,] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “These violent vanities can never last.” Malone.

Note return to page 355 9Too swift arrives &lblank;] He that travels too fast is as long before he comes to the end of his journey, as he that travels slow. Precipitation produces mishap. Johnson.

Note return to page 356 1Here comes the lady, &c.] However the poet might think the alteration of this scene on the whole to be necessary, I am afraid, in respect of the passage before us, he has not been very successful. The violent hyperbole of never wearing out the everlasting flint appears to me not only more reprehensible, but even less beautiful than the lines as they were originally written, where the lightness of Juliet's motion is accounted for from the cheerful effects the passion of love produced in her mind. Steevens.

Note return to page 357 2A lover may bestride the gossomers &lblank;] The gossomer is the long white filament which flies in the air in summer. So, in Hannibal and Scipio, 1637, by Nabbes: “Fine as Arachne's web, or gossamer “Whose curls when garnish'd by their dressing, shew “Like that spun vapour when 'tis pearl'd with dew?” Steevens. See Bullokar's English Expositor, 1616: “Gossomor. Things that flye like cobwebs in the ayre.” Malone.

Note return to page 358 3Conceit, more rich, &c.] Conceit here means imagination. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; which the conceited painter drew so proud,” &c. Malone. Thus, in title-page to the first quarto edition of The Merry Wives of Windsor: “A most pleasant and excellent conceited comedy,” &c. Again, in the title, &c. to King Henry IV. Part I. quarto, 1599: “&lblank; with the humorous conceits of Sir John Falstaffe &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 359 4They are but beggars that can count their worth;] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.” Steevens. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “I were but little happy if I could say how much.” Malone.

Note return to page 360 5I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.] The quarto 1599 reads: “I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.” The undated quarto and the folio: “I cannot sum up some of half my wealth.” The emendation was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 361 6Till holy church incorporate two in one.] So, in Arden of Feversham, 1599: “&lblank; But she is myself, “And holy church-rites makes us two but one.” Malone.

Note return to page 362 7The day is hot,] It is observed, that, in Italy, almost all assassinations are committed during the heat of summer. Johnson. In Sir Thomas Smith's Commonwealth of England, 1583, b. ii. c. xix. p. 70, it is said—“And commonly every yeere or each second yeere in the beginning of sommer or afterwards (for in the warme time the people for the most part be more unruly) even in the calm time of peace, the prince with his counsell chooseth out,” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 363 *Quarto A, The Capels are abroad.

Note return to page 364 7&lblank; thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!] Thou wilt endeavour to restrain me, by prudential advice, from quarrelling. Thus the quarto 1599, and the folio. The quarto 1597 reads —thou wilt forbid me of quarrelling. The modern editions, after Mr. Pope, read—Thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling. Malone.

Note return to page 365 8An I were so apt, &c.] These two speeches have been added since the first quarto, together with some few circumstances in the rest of the scene, as well as in the ensuing one. Steevens.

Note return to page 366 9Follow me close, for I will speak to them.] In the original copy this line is not found, Tybalt entering alone. In that of 1599 we find this stage-direction: “Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others;” and the above line is inserted; but I strongly suspect it to be an interpolation: for would Tybalt's partisans suffer him to be killed without taking part in the affray? That they do not join in it, appears from the account given by Benvolio. In the original copy Benvolio says, on the entrance of Tybalt, “By my head, here comes a Capulet.” Instead of the two latter words, we have in the quarto 1599—the Capulets. Malone. Mr. Malone forgets that, even in his own edition of this play, Tybalt is not killed while his partisans are on the stage. They go out with him after he has wounded Mercutio; and he himself re-enters, unattended, when he fights with Romeo. Steevens.

Note return to page 367 2&lblank; the hate I bear thee,] So the quarto 1597. The subsequent ancient copies have—the love, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 368 3A la stoccata &lblank;] Stoccata is the Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier. So, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “He makes a thrust; I with a swift passado “Make quick avoidance, and with this stoccata,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 369 4Good king of cats,] Alluding to his name. See p. 97, n. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 370 5Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears?] We should read pilche, which signifies a cloke or coat of skins, meaning the scabbard. Warburton. The old copy reads scabbard. Dr. Warburton's explanation is, I believe, just. Nash, in Pierce Pennyless his Supplication, 1595, speaks of a carman in a leather pilche. Again, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “I'll beat five pounds out of his leather pilch.” Again, “Thou hast forgot how thou ambled'st in a leather pilch, by a play-waggon in the highway, and took'st mad Jeronimo's part, to get service among the mimicks.” It appears from this passage, that Ben Jonson acted the part of Hieronimo in the Spanish tragedy, the speech being addressed to Horace, under which character old Ben is ridiculed. Steevens.

Note return to page 371 *Quarto A, barne door.

Note return to page 372 6&lblank; a grave man.] After this, the quarto 1597 continues Mercutio's speech as follows. —“A pox o' both your houses! I shall be fairly mounted upon four men's shoulders for your house of the Montagues and the Capulets: and then some peasantly rogue, some sexton, some base slave, shall write my epitaph, that Tybalt came and broke the prince's laws, and Mercutio was slain for the first and second cause. Where's the surgeon? “Boy. He's come, sir. “Mer. Now he'll keep a mumbling in my guts on the other side.—Come, Benvolio, lend me thy hand: A pox o' both your houses!” Steevens. “You shall find me a grave man.” This jest was better in old language, than it is at present. Lidgate says, in his elegy upon Chaucer: “My master Chaucer now is grave.” Farmer. We meet with the same quibble in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1608, where Vindici dresses up a lady's scull, and observes: “&lblank; she has a somewhat grave look with her.” Steevens. Again, in Sir Thomas Overbury's Description of a Sexton, Characters, 1616: “At every church-style commonly there's an ale-house; where let him bee found never so idle-pated, hee is still a grave drunkard.” Malone.

Note return to page 373 †Quarto A, inserts, I am sped; y faith, he hath made worms meat of me.

Note return to page 374 *So quarto A; the rest, cousin.

Note return to page 375 7&lblank; soften'd valour's steel.] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; When steel grows “Soft as the parasite's silk &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 376 8&lblank; hath aspir'd the clouds,] So, in Greene's Card of Fancy, 1608: “Her haughty mind is too lofty for me to aspire.” Again, in Chapman's version of the tenth Iliad: “&lblank; and presently aspir'd “The guardless Thracian regiment.” Again, in the ninth Iliad: “&lblank; and aspir'd the gods' eternal feats.” We never use this verb at present without some particle, as, to and after. Steevens. So also, Marlowe, in his Tamburlaine, 1590: “Until our bodies turn to elements, “And both our souls aspire celestial thrones.” Malone.

Note return to page 377 9This day's black fate on more days doth depend;] This day's unhappy destiny hangs over the days yet to come. There will yet be more mischief. Johnson.

Note return to page 378 †Quarto A, What other dayes must end.

Note return to page 379 1Alive! in triumph! &c.] Thus the quarto 1597; for which the quarto 1599 has— “He gan in triumph &lblank;.” This, in the subsequent ancient copies, was made—He gone, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 380 2&lblank; respective lenity,] Cool, considerate gentleness. Respect formerly signified consideration, prudential caution. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Respect and reason well beseem the sage.” Malone.

Note return to page 381 3And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!] Conduct for conductor. So, in a former scene of this play, quarto 1597: “Which to the high-top gallant of my joy “Must be my conduct in the secret night.” Thus the first quarto. In that of 1599, end being corruptly printed instead of ey'd, the editor of the folio, according to the usual process of corruption, exhibited the line thus: “And fire and fury be my conduct now.” Malone.

Note return to page 382 *Quarto A, above the clouds.

Note return to page 383 †Quarto A, bear him.

Note return to page 384 ‡Quarto A, Or thou, or I, or both, shall follow him.

Note return to page 385 4Stand not amaz'd:] i. e. confounded, in a state of confusion. So, in Cymbeline: “I am amaz'd with matter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 386 5O! I am fortune's fool!] I am always running in the way of evil fortune, like the Fool in the play. Thou art death's fool, in Measure for Measure. See Dr. Warburton's note. Johnson. See Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Act III. Sc. II. Steevens. In the first copy—O! I am fortune's slave. Steevens.

Note return to page 387 5&lblank; Which way ran he?] Instead of these four speeches, it is thus in quarto 1597: “Ben. Romeo, away! thou seest that Tybalt's slain. “The citizens approach; away! begone! “Thou wilt be taken. “Rom. Ah! I am fortune's slave. “Enter Citizens. “Watch. Where's he that slew Mercutio? Tybalt, that villain?” Boswell.

Note return to page 388 6Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd &lblank;] The pronoun —me, has been inserted by the recommendation of the following note. Steevens. The quarto 1597 reads: “Unhappy sight! ah, the blood is spill'd &lblank;.” The quarto 1599, and the subsequent ancient copies, have: “O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spill'd,” &c. The modern editors have followed neither copy—the word me was probably inadvertently omitted in the first quarto. “Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 389 7&lblank; as thou art true,] As thou art just and upright. Johnson. So, in King Richard III.: “And if King Edward be as true and just, &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 390 *Quarto A, Speake, Benvolio.

Note return to page 391 8How nice the quarrel was &lblank;] How slight, how unimportant, how petty. So, in the last Act: “The letter was not nice, but full of charge, “Of dear import.” Johnson. From these words, this speech thus proceeds in quarto 1597: “But Tibalt still persisting in his wrong, “The stout Mercutio drew to calm the storm; “Which Romeo seeing, called, Stay, gentlemen! “And on me cried, who drew to part their strife: “And with his agile arm young Romeo, “As fast as tongue cried peace, sought peace to make. “While they were interchanging thrusts and blows, “Under young Romeo's labouring arm to part, “The furious Tibalt cast an envious thrust, “That rid the life of stout Mercutio. “With that he fled, but presently return'd, “And with his rapier braved Romeo, “That had but newly entertain'd revenge; “And ere I could draw forth my rapier “To part their fury, down did Tibalt fall, “And this way Romeo fled.” Boswell.

Note return to page 392 9&lblank; and urg'd withal &lblank;] The rest of this speech was new written by the poet, as well as a part of what follows in the same scene. Steevens.

Note return to page 393 1Affection makes him false,] The charge of falsehood on Benvolio, though produced at hazard, is very just. The author, who seems to intend the character of Benvolio as good, meant perhaps to show, how the best minds, in a state of faction and discord, are detorted to criminal partiality. Johnson.

Note return to page 394 *Quarto A has but one line—He is a Montague, and speaks partiall.

Note return to page 395 2&lblank; in your hates' proceeding,] This, as Mr. Steevens has observed, is the reading of the original quarto 1597. From that copy, in almost every speech of this play, readings have been drawn by the modern editors, much preferable to those of the succeeding ancient copies. The quarto of 1599 reads—hearts proceeding; and the corruption was adopted in the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 396 *Quarto A, for abuses.

Note return to page 397 3Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,] This was probably designed as a covert stroke at the church of Rome, by which the different prices of murder, incest, and all other crimes, were minutely settled, and as shamelessly received. See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 701. Steevens.

Note return to page 398 4Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.] So, in Hale's Memorials: “When I find myself swayed to mercy, let me remember likewise that there is a mercy due to the country.” So, in Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, 2d part: “And yet let the Prince be sure of this, to answere at the day of judgment before the tribunall seate of God for all the offences that the partie pardoned shall commit any time of his life after. For if the Prince had cutte him off when the lawe had passed on him, that evill had not been committed. To this purpose I remember I have heard a certeine pretie apothegue [apothegme] uttered by a jester to a king. The king had pardoned one of his subjectes that had committed murther, who, being pardoned, committed the like offence againe, and by meanes was pardoned the second time also, and yet filling up the measure of his iniquitie, killed the third, and being brought before the king, the king being very sorie, asked him why he had killed three men, to whom his jester, standing by, replied, saieing, No, (O king) he killed but the first, and thou hast killed the other two; for if thou hadst hanged him up at the first, the other two had not beene killed, therefore thou hast killed them and shall answere for their bloud. Which thing being heard, the king hanged him up straightway, as he very well deserved.” Malone. Thus the quarto 1599, and the folio. The sentiment here enforced is different from that found in the first edition, 1597. There the Prince concludes his speech with these words: “Pity shall dwell, and govern with us still; “Mercy to all but murderers,—pardoning none that kill.” Malone. See Measure for Measure, Act II, Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 399 5Gallop apace, you firy footed steeds, Towards Phœbus' mansion; &c.] Our author probably remembered Marlowe's King Edward II. which was performed before 1593: “Gallop apace, bright Phœbus, through the skie, “And dusky night in rusty iron car; “Between you both, shorten the time, I pray, “That I may see that most desired day.” So, in Barnabe Riche's Farewell: “The day to his seeming passed away so slowely that he had thought the stately steedes had bin tired that drawe the chariot of the Sunne, and wished that Phaeton had beene there with a whippe.” The first edition of Riche's Farewell was printed in 1583. Malone. “Gallop apace, &c.” Cowley copies the expression, Davideis, b. iii.: “Slow rose the sun, but gallopt down apace, “With more than evening blushes in his face.” The succeeding compound “fiery-footed” is used by Drayton, in one of his Eclogues: “Phœbus had forc'd his fiery-footed team.” It is also used by Spenser, in The Fairy Queen. Todd. “&lblank; Phœbus' mansion.” The second quarto and folio read, Phœbus' lodging. Steevens.

Note return to page 400 6&lblank; immediately.] Here ends this speech in the eldest quarto. The rest of the scene has likewise received considerable alterations and additions. Steevens.

Note return to page 401 7Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! That run-away's eyes may wink; &c.] What run-aways are these, whose eyes Juliet is wishing to have stopt? Macbeth, we may remember, makes an invocation to night much in the same strain: “&lblank; Come, seeling night, “Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,” &c. So Juliet would have night's darkness obscure the great eye of the day, the sun; whom considering in a poetical light as Phœbus, drawn in his car with fiery-footed steeds, and posting through the heavens, she very properly calls him with regard to the swiftness of his course, the run-away. In the like manner our poet speaks of the night in The Merchant of Venice: “For the close night doth play the run-away.” Warburton. Mr. Heath justly observes on this emendation, that the sun is necessarily absent as soon as night begins, and that it is very unlikely that Juliet, who has just complained of his tediousness, should call him a run-away. Malone. The construction of this passage, however elliptical or perverse, I believe to be as follows: May that run-away's eyes wink! Or, That run-away's eyes, may (they) wink! These ellipses are frequent in Spenser: and that for oh! that, is not uncommon, as Dr. Farmer observes in a note on the first scene of The Winter's Tale. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. VI.: “That ever I should call thee cast-away!” Again, in Twelfth-Night, Act IV. Sc. II.: “Mal. I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any man in Illyria. “Clo. Well-a-day.—That you were, sir!” i. e. Oh that you were! Again, in Timon, Act IV.: “That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, “Should yet be hungry!” Juliet first wishes for the absence of the sun, and then invokes the night to spread its curtain close around the world: “Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!” Next, recollecting that the night would seem short to her, she speaks of it as of a run-away, whose flight she would wish to retard, and whose eyes she would blind, lest they should make discoveries. The eyes of night are the stars, so called in A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Dr. Warburton has already proved that Shakspeare terms the night a run-away in The Merchant of Venice; and in the Fair Maid of the Exchange, 1607, it is spoken of under the same character: “The night hath play'd the swift-foot run-away.” Romeo was not expected by Juliet till the sun was gone, and therefore it was of no consequence to her that any eyes should wink but those of the night; for, as Ben Jonson says in Sejanus, “&lblank; night hath many eyes, “Whereof, though most do sleepe, yet some are spies.” Steevens. That seems not to be the optative adverb utinam, but the pronoun ista. These lines contain no wish, but a reason for Juliet's preceding wish for the approach of cloudy night; for in such a night there may be no star-light to discover our stolen pleasures: “That run-away eyes may wink, and Romeo “Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen.” Blackstone. A great deal of ingenious criticism has been expended in endeavouring to ascertain the meaning of this expression. Dr. Warburton thought the run-away in question was the sun; but Mr. Heath has most completely disproved this opinion. Mr. Steevens considers the passage as extremely elliptical, and regards the night as the run-away; making Juliet wish that its eyes, the stars, might retire to prevent discovery. Mr. Justice Blackstone can perceive nothing optative in the lines, but simply a reason for Juliet's wish for a cloudy night; yet according to this construction of the passage, the grammar of it is not very easily to be discovered. Whoever attentively reads over Juliet's speech, will be inclined to think, or even be altogether satisfied, that the whole tenor of it is optative. With respect to the calling night a run-away, one might surely ask how it can possibly be so termed in an abstract point of view? Is it a greater fugitive than the morning, the noon, or the evening? Mr. Steevens lays great stress on Shakspeare's having before called the night a run-away in The Merchant of Venice: “For the close night doth play the run-away;” But there it was already far advanced, and might therefore with great propriety be said to play the run-away; here it was not begun. The same remark will apply to the other passage cited by Mr. Steevens from The Fair Maid of the Exchange. Where then is this run-away to be found? or can it be Juliet herself? She who had just been secretly married to the enemy of her parents might with some propriety be termed a run-away from her duty; but she had not abandoned her native prudency. She therefore invokes the night to veil those rites which she was about to perform, and to bring her Romeo to her arms in darkness and in silence. The lines that immediately follow may be thought to favour this interpretation; and the whole scene may possibly bring to the reader's recollection an interesting part in the beautiful story of Cupid and Psyche. Douce.

Note return to page 402 8Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties:] So, in Marlowe's Hero and Leander: “&lblank; dark night is Cupid's day.” The quartos 1599 and 1609, and the folio, read—And by their own beauties. In the text the undated quarto has been followed. Malone. Milton, in his Comus, might here have been indebted to Shakspeare: “Virtue could see to do what virtue would, “By her own radiant light, though sun and moon “Were in the flat sea sunk.” Steevens.

Note return to page 403 9Come, civil night,] Civil is grave, decently solemn. Johnson. So, in our poet's Lover's Complaint: “&lblank; my white stole of chastity I daff'd, “Shook off my sober guards and civil fears.” So, in Any Thing for a Quiet Life, 1618: “Enter Lady Crossingham, in a civil habit; Saunders and Children very gallant.” Malone.

Note return to page 404 1&lblank; unman'd blood &lblank;] Blood yet unacquainted with man. Johnson. “Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks.” These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one that is not brought to endure company. Bating, is fluttering with the wings as striving to fly away. So, in Ben Jonson's Sad Shepherd: “A hawk yet half so haggard and unmann'd.” Again, in an old ballad intitled, Prettie Comparisons Wittily Grounded, &c.: “Or like a hawk that's never man'd, “Or like a hide before 'tis tan'd.” Again, in The Booke of Hawkyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “It is called bating, for she bateth with herselfe most often causelesse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 405 2&lblank; grown bold,] This is Mr. Rowe's emendation. The old copies for grown have grow. Malone.

Note return to page 406 3Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.] So the quarto 1599, and the folio. The line is not in the first quarto. The editor of the second folio, for the sake of the metre, reads—on a raven's back; and so, many of the modern editors. Malone. I profess myself to be still one of this peccant fraternity. Steevens. Wherever the old copy is adhered to, notwithstanding Mr. Steevens's objections on the score of metre, let it suffice to say, once for all, to prevent the necessity of perpetual contest, that the reasons will be found assigned in the Essay on Shakspeare's Versification. Boswell.

Note return to page 407 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 408 5&lblank; when he shall die,] This emendation is drawn from the undated quarto. The quartos of 1599, 1609, and the folio, read —when I shall die. Malone.

Note return to page 409 6Take him and cut him out in little stars, &c.] The same childish thought occurs in The Wisdom of Doctor Dodypoll, which was acted before the year 1596: “The glorious parts of faire Lucilia, “Take them and joine them in the heavenly spheres; “And fixe them there as an eternal light, “For lovers to adore and wonder at.” Steevens.

Note return to page 410 7&lblank; the garish sun.] Milton had this speech in his thoughts when he wrote II Penseroso: “&lblank; Civil night, “Thou sober-suited matron.” Shakspeare. “Till civil-suited morn appear.” Milton. “Pay no worship to the garish sun.” Shakspeare. “Hide me from day's garish eye.” Milton. Johnson. Garish is gaudy, showy. So, in King Richard III.: “A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag.” Again, in Marlowe's Edward II. 1598: “&lblank; march'd like players “With garish robes.” It sometimes signifies wild, flighty. So, in the following instance: “&lblank; starting up and garishly staring about, especially on the face of Eliosto.” Hinde's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606. Steevens.

Note return to page 411 8&lblank; I have bought the mansion of a love,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; the strong base and building of my love “Is as the very center to the earth, “Drawing all things to it.” Malone.

Note return to page 412 9This whole scene, as Mr. Steevens observed, is materially altered from the first quarto, where it is thus given: “Enter Nurse wringing her hands, with the ladder of cords in her lap. “Jul. But how now, nurse? O lord, why look'st thou sad? “What hast thou there? the cords? “Nurse. Aye, aye, the cords: alack, we are undone! “We are undone, lady, we are undone!— “Jul. What devil art thou that torments me thus? “Nurse. “Alack the day!—he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! “Jul. This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. “Can heavens be so envious? “Nurse. Romeo can, if heavens cannot. “I saw the wound; I saw it with mine eyes,— “God save the sample, on his manly breast: “A bloody corse, a piteous bloody corse; “All pale as ashes; I swounded at the sight. “Jul. Ah, Romeo, Romeo, what disaster hap “Hath sever'd thee from thy true Juliet! “Ah! why should Heaven so much conspire with woe, “Or Fate envie our happy marriage, “So soon to sunder us by timeless death? “Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! “O honest Tybalt! courteous gentleman! “Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? “Is Tybalt dead? and Romeo murdered? “My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearest lord?— “Then let the trumpet sound a general doom! “These two being dead, then living is there none. “Nurse. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished; “Romeo, that murdered him, is banished. “Jul. Ah heavens!—did Romeo's handshed Tybalt's blood? “Nurse. It did, it did: alack the day! it did. “Jul. O serpent's hate, hid with a flow'ring face! “O painted sepulchre, including filth! “Was never book, containing so foul matter, “So fairly bound. Ah, what meant Romeo? “Nurse. There is no truth, no faith, no honesty in men; “All false, all faithless, perjur'd, all forsworn: “Shame come to Romeo! “Jul. A blister on that tongue! he was not born to shame: “Upon his face, shame is asham'd to sit. “But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? “That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: “All this is comfort; but there yet remains “Worse than his death, which fain I would forget: “But, ah! it presseth to my memory. “Romeo is banished; ah! that word—banished, “Is worse than death—Romeo is banished, “Is father, mother, Tybalt, Juliet, “All kill'd, all slain, all dead, all banished;— “Where are my father, and my mother, nurse? “Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse. “Will you go to them? “Jul. Aye, aye; when theirs are spent, “Mine shall be shed for Romeo's banishment. “Nurse. Lady, your Romeo will be here to-night; “I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. “Jul. Do so; and bear this ring to my true knight, “And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exit.” Boswell.

Note return to page 413 9&lblank; say thou but I,] In Shakspeare's time (as Theobald has observed) the affirmative particle ay was usually written I, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling. Malone.

Note return to page 414 1&lblank; death-darting eye of cockatrice:] See what is said of the basilisk, Henry VI. Part II. Act III. Sc. II. in two places. Malone. The strange lines that follow here in the common books, are not in the old edition. Pope. The strange lines are these: “I am not I, if there be such an I, “Or these eyes shot, that make thee answer I. “If he be slain, say—I; or if not, no: “Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.” These lines hardly deserve emendation; yet it may be proper to observe, that their meanness has not placed them below the malice of fortune, the first two of them being evidently transposed; we should read: “&lblank; that bare vowel I shall poison more, “Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice, “Or those eyes shot, that make thee answer, I. “I am not I,” &c. Johnson. I think the transposition recommended may be spared. The second line is corrupted. Read shut instead of shot, and then the meaning will be sufficiently intelligible. Shot, however, may be the same as shut. So, in Chaucer's Miller's Tale, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. ver. 3358: “And dressed him up by a shot window.” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 2God save the mark!] This proverbial exclamation occurs again, with equal obscurity, in Othello, Act I. Sc. I. See note on that passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 416 3My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?] The quarto 1599, and the folio, read— “My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord? Mr. Pope introduced the present reading from the original copy of 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 417 4O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!] The same images occur in Macbeth: “&lblank; look like the innocent flower, “But be the serpent under it.” Henley. This line in the folio is given to the Nurse, and the one preceding is thrown into Juliet's speech. The text is from the quarto 1597, except that that copy reads hate instead of heart. Boswell. “O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! “Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?” So, in King John: “Rash, inconsiderate, firy voluntaries, “With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “You have angels' faces, but Heaven knows your hearts.” The line, Did ever dragon, &c. and the following eight lines, are not in the quarto 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 418 5Dove-feather'd raven! &c.] In old editions— “Ravenous dove! feather'd raven!” &c. The four following lines are not in the first edition, as well as some others which I have omitted. Pope. “Ravenous dove, feather'd raven, “Wolfish-ravening lamb!” This passage Mr. Pope has thrown out of the text, because these two noble hemistichs are inharmonious: but is there no such thing as a crutch for a labouring, halting verse? I'll venture to restore to the poet a line that is in his own mode of thinking, and truly worthy of him. Ravenous was blunderingly coined out of raven and ravening; and if we only throw it out, we gain at once an harmonious verse, and a proper contrast of epithets and images: “Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-rav'ning lamb!” Theobald. The quarto 1599, and folio, read— “Ravenous dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!” The word ravenous, which was written probably in the manuscript by mistake in the latter part of the line, for ravening, and then struck out, crept from thence to the place where it appears. It was properly rejected by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 419 6A damned saint,] The quarto 1599, for damned, has— dimme; the first folio—dimne. The reading of the text is found in the undated quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 420 7These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.] So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power.” Malone.

Note return to page 421 8Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;] So, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. ii. p. 223: “Is it possible that under such beautie and rare comelinesse, disloyaltie and treason may have their siedge and lodging?” The image of shame sitting on the brow, is not in the poem. Steevens.

Note return to page 422 9&lblank; what tongue shall smooth thy name,] To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to caress, to fondle. So, in Pericles, Act I. Sc. II.: “Seem'd not to strike, but smooth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 423 1Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?] So, in the poem already quoted: “Ah cruel murd'ring tongue, murderer of others' fame, “How durst thou once attempt to touch the honour of his name? “Whose deadly foes do yield him due and earned praise, “For though his freedom be bereft, his honour not decays. “Why blam'st thou Romeus for slaying of Tybalt? “Since he is guiltless quite of all, and Tybalt bears the fault. “Whither shall he, alas! poor banish'd man, now fly? “What place of succour shall he seek beneath the starry sky? “Since she pursueth him, and him defames by wrong, “That in distress should be his fort, and only rampire strong.” Malone. Again, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure: “Where from henceforth shall be his refuge? sith she, which ought to be the only bulwarke and assined repare of his distresse, doth persue and defame him.” Henderson.

Note return to page 424 2Back, foolish tears, &c.] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; I am a fool “To weep at what I am glad of.” Steevens.

Note return to page 425 3Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.] Hath put Tybalt out of my mind, as if out of being. Johnson. The true meaning is,—I am more affected by Romeo's banishment than I should be by the death of ten thousand such relations as Tybalt. Ritson. “Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.” That is, is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts. Dr. Johnson's explanation cannot be right; for the passage itself shows that Tybalt was not out of her mind. M. Mason.

Note return to page 426 4&lblank; sour woe delights in fellowship,] Thus the Latin hexameter: (I know not whence it comes) “Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.” Steevens. So, in The Rape of Lucrece “And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage, “As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage.” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; the mind much sufferance doth o'er-skip, “When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.” Malone.

Note return to page 427 5Which modern lamentation, &c.] This line is left out of the later editions, I suppose because the editors did not remember that Shakspeare uses modern for common, or slight: I believe it was in his time confounded in colloquial language with moderate. Johnson. It means only trite, common. So, in As You Like It: “Full of wise saws and modern instances.” Steevens.

Note return to page 428 *Quarto A, world exiled.

Note return to page 429 †Quarto A, monstrous.

Note return to page 430 7This is dear mercy,] So the quarto 1599, and the folio. The earliest copy reads—This is mere mercy. Malone. Mere mercy, in ancient language, signifies absolute mercy So, in Othello: “The mere perdition of the Turkish fleet.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; to the mere undoing “Of all the kingdom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 431 8&lblank; heaven is here, Where Juliet lives;] From this and the foregoing speech of Romeo, Dryden has borrowed in his beautiful paraphrase of Chaucer's Palamon and Arcite: “Heaven is not, but where Emily abides, “And where she's absent, all is hell besides.” Steevens.

Note return to page 432 9&lblank; More validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies, than Romeo:] Validity seems here to mean worth or dignity: and courtship the state of a courtier permitted to approach the highest presence. Johnson. Validity is employed to signify worth or value, in the first scene of King Lear. Steevens. By courtship, the author seems rather to have meant, the state of a lover; that dalliance, in which he who courts or woos a lady is sometimes indulged. This appears clearly from the subsequent lines: “&lblank; they may seize “On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, “And steal immortal blessing from her lips:— “Flies may do this.” Malone.

Note return to page 433 1Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,] This and the next line are not in the first copy.

Note return to page 434 2But Romeo may not; he is banished:] This line has been very aukwardly introduced in the modern as well as ancient copies, and might better be inserted after—their own kisses sin. Steevens. This line, in the original copy, immediately follows—“And steal immortal blessing from her lips.” The two lines, Who, even, &c. were added in the copy of 1599, and are merely parenthetical: the line, therefore, “But Romeo may not; &c.” undoubtedly ought to follow those two lines. By mistake, in the copy of 1599, it was inserted lower down, after—is not death. Malone.

Note return to page 435 3They are free men, but I am banished. And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?] These two lines are not in the original copy. Malone. The first of these lines is neither in the first quarto, nor first folio; whatever is its merit belongs to the quarto 1599. Boswell.

Note return to page 436 4To kill me; banished?] These lines are thus given in the quarto 1597: “O father! had'st thou no strong poison mix'd, “No sharp-ground knife, no present mean of death, “Though ne'er so mean, but banishment, “To torture me withall? ah! banished?” Boswell.

Note return to page 437 5Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.] So the quarto 1597. The quartos 1599 and 1609 read: “Then fond mad man, hear me a little speak.” The folio: “Then fond mad man, hear me speak.” Malone.

Note return to page 438 6Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished.] So, in Romeus and Juliet, the Friar says— “Virtue is always thrall to troubles and annoy, “But wisdom in adversity finds cause of quiet joy.” See also Lyly's Euphues, 1580: “Thou sayest banishment is better to the freeborne. There be many meates which are sowre in the mouth and sharp in the maw; but if thou mingle them with sweet sawces, they yeeld both a pleasant taste and wholesome nourishment.—I speake this to this end; that though thy exile seeme grievous to thee, yet guiding thyselfe with the rules of philosophy, it shall be more tolerable.” Malone.

Note return to page 439 7Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.] The same phrase, and with the same meaning, occurs in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; can he speak? hear? “Know man from man? dispute his own estate?” i. e. is he able to talk over his own affairs, or the present state he is in? Steevens.

Note return to page 440 8Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,] Thus the original copy; for which in the folio we have— “Wert thou as young as Juliet my love.” I only mention this to show the very high value of the early quarto editions. Malone.

Note return to page 441 9&lblank; then might'st thou tear thy hair,] So, in the poem: “These heavy tidings heard, his golden locks he tare, “And like a frantick man hath torn the garments that he ware.— “He riseth oft, and strikes his head against the walls; “He falleth down again, and loud for hasty death he calls.” Malone.

Note return to page 442 1&lblank; God's will!] This speech, and the following, are thus given in quarto 1597: “Romeo, arise; stand up; thou wilt be taken; “I hear one knock!—arise, and get thee gone. “Nur. Here, Friar! “Friar. God's will! what wilfullness is this? [She knocks again. “Nur. Ho, Friar, open the door! “Friar. By and bye I come. Who is there? “Nur. One from Lady Juliet. “Friar. Then come near.” Boswell.

Note return to page 443 2What wilfulness &lblank;] Thus the quarto 1597. That of 1599, and the folio, have—What simpleness. Malone.

Note return to page 444 3O woeful sympathy! Piteous predicament!] The old copies give these words to the Nurse. One may wonder the editors did not see that such language must necessarily belong to the Friar. Farmer. Dr. Farmer's emendation may justly claim that place in the text to which I have now advanced it. Steevens.

Note return to page 445 *Quarto A, her.

Note return to page 446 4&lblank; cancell'd love?] The folio reads—conceal'd love. Johnson. The quarto, cancell'd love. Steevens. The epithet concealed is to be understood, not of the person, but of the condition of the lady. So, that the sense is,—my lady, whose being so, together with our marriage which made her so, is concealed from the world. Heath.

Note return to page 447 †Quarto A, pules.

Note return to page 448 ‡Quarto A, Now on the ground.

Note return to page 449 *Quarto A, Tell me, holy friar.

Note return to page 450 5Drawing his sword.] In quarto 1597: “He offers to stab himself, and Nurse snatches the dagger away. “Nur. Ah!” Boswell.

Note return to page 451 6Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art; Thy tears are womanish;] Thus in quarto 1597: “Hold! stay thy hand: art thou a man? thy form “Cries out, thou art; but thy wild acts denote “The unreasonable furies of a beast.” Boswell. Shakspeare has here closely followed his original: “Art thou, quoth he, a man? thy shape saith, so thou art; “Thy crying and thy weeping eyes denote a woman's heart, “For manly reason is quite from off thy mind outchased, “And in her stead affections lewd, and fancies highly placed; “So that I stood in doubt, this hour at the least, “If thou a man or woman wert, or else a brutish beast.” Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. Malone.

Note return to page 452 7Unseemly woman, &c.] Thou art a beast of ill qualities, under the appearance both of a woman and a man. Johnson. A person who seemed both man and woman, would be a monster, and of course an ill-beseeming beast. This is all the Friar meant to express. M. Mason.

Note return to page 453 8And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,] Thus the first copy. The quarto 1599, and the folio, have— “And slay thy lady, that in thy life lies.” Malone.

Note return to page 454 9Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?] Romeo has not here railed on his birth, &c. though in his interview with the Friar as described in the poem, he is made to do so: “First Nature did he blame, the author of his life, “In which his joys had been so scant and sorrows aye so rife; “The time and place of birth he fiercely did reprove; “He cryed out with open mouth against the stars above.— “On fortune eke he rail'd.” Shakspeare copied the remonstrance of the Friar, without reviewing the former part of his scene. He has in other places fallen into a similar inaccuracy, by sometimes following and sometimes deserting his original. The lines, Why rail'st thou, &c. to—thy own defence, are not in the first copy. They are formed on a passage in the poem: “Why cry'st thou out on love? why dost thou blame thy fate? “Why dost thou so cry after death? thy life why dost thou hate?” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 455 1Digressing from the valour of a man:] So, in the 24th Book of Homer's Odyssey, as translated by Chapman: “&lblank; my deservings shall in nought digress “From best fame of our race's foremost merit.” Steevens. So, in Richard II. Act V. Sc. III.: “And thy abundant goodness shall excuse “This deadly blot in thy digressing son. So, also in Barnabe Riche's Farewell: “Knowing that you should otherwise have used me than you have, you should have digressed and swarved from your kinde.” Boswell.

Note return to page 456 2Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask, &c.] To understand the force of this allusion, it should be remembered that the ancient English soldiers, using match-locks, instead of locks with flints as at present, were obliged to carry a lighted match hanging at their belts, very near to the wooden flask in which they kept their powder. The same allusion occurs in Humours Ordinary, an old collection of English epigrams: “When she his flask and touch-box set on fire, “And till this hour the burning is not out.” Steevens.

Note return to page 457 3And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.] And thou torn to pieces with thine own weapons. Johnson.

Note return to page 458 4&lblank; there art thou happy too:] Thus the first quarto. In the subsequent quartos and the folio too is omitted. Malone. It should not be concealed, that the reading of the second folio corresponds with that of the first quarto: “&lblank; there art thou happy too.” Steevens. The word is omitted in all the intermediate editions; a sufficient proof that the emendations of that folio are not always the result of ignorance or caprice. Ritson.

Note return to page 459 *So quarto A; quarto B. mishaved; folio, mishaped.

Note return to page 460 5Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:] The quarto 1599, and 1609, read: “Thou puts up thy fortune and thy love.” The editor of the folio endeavoured to correct this by reading: “Thou puttest up thy fortune and thy love.” The undated quarto has powts, which, with the aid of the original copy in 1597, pointed out the true reading. There the line stands: “Thou frown'st upon thy fate, that smiles on thee.” Malone. The reading in the text is confirmed by the following passage in Coriolanus: “&lblank; then “We pout upon the morning.” Steevens.

Note return to page 461 6Romeo is coming.] Much of this speech has likewise been added since the first edition Steevens. The first edition has it thus after the lines which I have marked as wholly omitted: “Nurse, provide all things in readiness, “Comfort thy mistress, haste the house to bed, “Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto.” Boswell.

Note return to page 462 7Go hence: Good night; &c.] These three lines are omitted in all the modern editions. Johnson. They were first omitted, with many others, by Mr. Pope. Malone. This is a mistake: they are not in the first quarto. Boswell.

Note return to page 463 8&lblank; here stands all your state;] The whole of your fortune depends on this. Johnson.

Note return to page 464 *Quarto A, That doth befall thee here.

Note return to page 465 9Scene IV.] Some few unnecessary verses are omitted in this scene according to the oldest editions. Pope. Mr. Pope means, as appears from his edition, that he has followed the oldest copy, and omitted some unnecessary verses which are not found there, but inserted in the enlarged copy of this play. But he has expressed himself so loosely, as to have been misunderstood by Mr. Steevens. In the text these unnecessary verses, as Mr. Pope calls them, are preserved, conformably to the enlarged copy of 1599. Malone. In the quarto 1597, after the words, “born to die,” the speech concludes thus: “Wife, where's your daughter? is she in her chamber? “I think she means not to come down to night.” Boswell.

Note return to page 466 1&lblank; mew'd up &lblank;] This is a phrase from falconry. A mew was a place of confinement for hawks. So, in Albumazar, 1614: “&lblank; fully mew'd “From brown soar feathers &lblank;.” Again, in our author's King Richard III.: “And, for his meed, poor lord he is mew'd up.” Steevens.

Note return to page 467 2Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love:] Desperate means only bold, adventurous, as if he had said in the vulgar phrase,—I will speak a bold word, and venture to promise you my daughter. Johnson. So, in the Weakest goes to the Wall, 1600: “Witness this desperate tender of mine honour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 468 3Exeunt.] The latter part of this scene is a good deal varied from the first quarto, where it thus appears: “Cap. Sir Paris, I'll make a desperate tender of my child: “I think, she will be ruled in all respects by me; “But soft; what day is this? “Par. Monday, my lord. “Cap. O, then Wednesday is too soon; “On Thursday let it be, you shall be married; “We'll make no great ado;—a friend, or two, or so: “For look you, sir, Tybalt being slain so lately, “It will be thought we held him carelessly, “If we should revel much: therefore we will have “Some half a dozen friends, and make no more ado. “But what say you to Thursday? “Par. My lord, I wish that Thursday were to-morrow. “Cap. Wife, go you to your daughter, ere you go to bed, “Acquaint her with the County Paris' love. “Farewell, my lord, till Thursday next. “Wife, get you to your daughter.—Light to my chamber, “Afore me, it is so very very late, “That we may call it early by and bye. [Exeunt.“ Boswell.

Note return to page 469 4Juliet's Chamber.] The stage-direction in the first edition is —“Enter Romeo and Juliet, at a window.” In the second quarto, “Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.” They appeared probably in the balcony which was erected on the old English stage. See the Account of the Ancient Theatres in vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 470 5Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: &c.] This scene is formed on the following hints in the poem of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “The golden sun was gone to lodge him in the west, “The full moon eke in yonder south had sent most men to rest; “When restless Romeus and restless Juliet, “In wonted sort, by wonted mean, in Juliet's chamber met, &c. &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; &stellam; “Thus these two lovers pass away the weary night “In pain, and plaint, not, as they wont, in pleasure and delight. “But now, somewhat too soon, in farthest east arose “Fair Lucifer, the golden star that lady Venus chose; “Whose course appointed is with speedy race to run, “A messenger of dawning day and of the rising sun.— “When thou ne lookest wide, ne closely dost thou wink, “When Phœbus from our hemisphere in western wave doth sink, “What colour then the heavens do show unto thine eyes, “The same, or like, saw Romeus in farthest eastern skies: “As yet he saw no day, ne could he call it night, “With equal force decreasing dark fought with increasing light. “Then Romeus in arms his lady gan to fold, “With friendly kiss, and ruthfully she 'gan her knight behold.” Malone.

Note return to page 471 6Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:] This is not merely a poetical supposition. It is observed of the nightingale, that, if undisturbed, she sits and sings upon the same tree for many weeks together. What Eustathius, however, has observed relative to a fig-tree mentioned by Homer, in his 12th Odyssey, may be applied to the passage before us: “These particularities, which seem of no consequence, have a very good effect in poetry, as they give the relation an air of truth and probability. For what can induce a poet to mention such a tree, if the tree were not there in reality?” Steevens.

Note return to page 472 *Quarto A, And not the nightingale.

Note return to page 473 7Night's candles are burnt out,] Thus Sophocles: &lblank; &grasa;&grk;&grr;&gra;&grst; &grn;&gru;&grk;&grt;&grog;&grst;, &grhr;&grn;&gria;&grx;&grap; &grera;&grs;&grp;&gre;&grr;&gro;&gri; &grL;&gra;&grm;&grp;&grh;&grt;&grhc;&grr;&gre;&grst; &gro;&grus;&grk;&grea;&grt;&grap; &grh;&grs;&grq;&gro;&grn;.— Ajax, 288. Blakeway.

Note return to page 474 †Quarto B, C, D, and folio, mountain's.

Note return to page 475 8It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way&lblank;] Compare Sidney's Arcadia, 13th edit. p. 109: “The moon, then full, (not thinking scorn to be a torch-bearer to such beauty) guided her steps.” And Sir J. Davies's Orchestra, 1596, st. vii. of the sun: “When the great torch-bearer of heauen was gone “Downe in a maske unto the Ocean's court.” And Drayton's Eng. Heroic. Epist. p. 221, where the moon is described with the stars— “Attending on her, as her torch-bearers.” Todd.

Note return to page 476 9&lblank; thou need'st not to be gone.] The quarto 1597, reads; “Then stay awhile, thou shalt not go soon.” With a slight emendation, it appears to me to be a better line than that in the text: “Then stay awhile; thou shalt not go so soon.” Boswell.

Note return to page 477 1&lblank; the pale reflex &lblank;] The appearance of a cloud opposed to the moon. Johnson.

Note return to page 478 2Let's talk, it is not day.] This speech is better, I think, in the quarto 1597: “Let me stay here, let me be ta'en, and die; “If thou wilt have it so, I am content. “I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, “It is the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; “I'll say it is the nightingale that beats “The vaulty heaven so far above our heads, “And not the lark, the messenger of morn: “Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.— “What says my love? let's talk, 'tis not yet day.” Boswell.

Note return to page 479 3I have more care to stay, than will to go;] Would it not be better thus—I have more will to stay, than care to go? Johnson. Care was frequently used in Shakspeare's age for inclination. Malone.

Note return to page 480 4&lblank; sweet division;] Division seems to have been the technical phrase for the pauses or parts of a musical composition. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, “With ravishing division to her lute.” To run a division, is also a musical term. Steevens. Does not division rather mean where the voice or instrument runs off from the air or plain song in notes of shorter duration than those of the tune in general? Divisions do not properly make part of an air, but are a sort of ornaments added to it. Phillipps.

Note return to page 481 *Quarto A, this.

Note return to page 482 5Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes; O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!] I wish the lark and toad had changed voices; for then the noise which I hear would be that of the toad, not of the lark: it would consequently be evening, at which time the toad croaks; not morning, when the lark sings; and we should not be under the necessity of separation. A. C. If the toad and lark had changed voices, the unnatural croak of the latter would have been no indication of the appearance of day, and consequently no signal for her lover's departure. This is apparently the aim and purpose of Juliet's wish. Heath. The toad having very fine eyes, and the lark very ugly ones, was the occasion of a common saying amongst the people, that the toad and lark had changed eyes. To this the speaker alludes. Warburton. This tradition of the toad and lark I have heard expressed in a rustick rhyme: “&lblank; To heav'n I'd fly, “But that the toad beguil'd me of mine eye.” Johnson. Read chang'd eyes. M. Mason.

Note return to page 483 6Since arm from arm, &c.] These two lines are omitted in the modern editions, and do not deserve to be replaced, but as they may show the danger of critical temerity. Dr. Warburton's change of I would to I wot was specious enough, yet it is evidently erroneous. The sense is this—The lark, they say, has lost her eyes to the toad, and now I would the toad had her voice too, since she uses it to the disturbance of lovers. Johnson.

Note return to page 484 7Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.] The hunts-up was the name of the tune anciently played to wake the hunters, and collect them together. So, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “Yet will I play a hunts-up to my Muse.” Again, in the play of Orlando Furioso, 1594 and 1599: “To play him huntsup with a point of war, “I'll be his minstrell with my drum and fife.” Again, in Westward Hoe, 1607: “&lblank; Make a noise, its no matter; any huntsup to waken vice.” Again, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 13th: “But hunts-up to the morn the feather'd sylvans sing.” Steevens. Puttenham, in his Art of English Poesy, 1589, speaking of one Gray, says, “what good estimation did he grow into with king Henry [the Eighth] and afterwards with the duke of Somerset protectour, for making certaine merry ballads, whereof one chiefly was The Hunte is up, the Hunte is up.” Ritson. A huntsup also signified a morning song to a new-married woman, the day after her marriage, and is certainly used here in that sense. See Cotgrave's Dictionary, in v. Resveil. Malone.

Note return to page 485 9Art thou gone so? my lord! my love! my friend!] Thus the quarto 1597. That of 1599, and the folio, read: “Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay husband, friend!” Malone.

Note return to page 486 1For in a minute there are many days:] The quarto 1597 has two lines instead of the one here given: “For in an hour there are many minutes; “Minutes are days; so shall I number them.” Boswell. So, in Abraham's Sacrifice, a Tragedy, by Beza, translated by Arthur Golding, 1577: “Alas, my God, which seest me from above, “Both outwardly and inwardly alway, “Vowtsafe to shorten these three yeeres [days] I pray; “For were they much more shorter than they be, “They be not dayes, but moneths and yeeres, to me.” Malone.

Note return to page 487 2O! by this count I shall be much in years, Ere I again behold my Romeo.] “Illa ego, quæ fueram te decedente puella,   “Protinus ut redeas, facta videbor anus.” Ovid, Epist. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 488 * Quarto A, Ere I see thee again.

Note return to page 489 †Quarto A, No doubt, no doubt.

Note return to page 490 3O God! I have an ill-divining soul: &c.] This miserable prescience of futurity I have always regarded as a circumstance particularly beautiful. The same kind of warning from the mind, Romeo seems to have been conscious of, on his going to the entertainment at the house of Capulet: “&lblank; my mind misgives, “Some consequence yet hanging in the stars, “Shall bitterly begin his fearful date “From this night's revels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 491 4O God! I have an ill-divining soul: Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead &lblank;] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed; “And fear doth teach it divination; “I prophecy thy death.” The reading of the text is that of the quarto 1597. That of 1599, and the folio, read—now thou art so low. Malone.

Note return to page 492 5Dry sorrow drinks our blood.] This is an allusion to the proverb— “Sorrow's dry.” Chapman, in his version of the seventeenth Iliad, says— “&lblank; their harts “Drunk from their faces all their blouds.” Steevens. He is accounting for their paleness. It was an ancient notion that sorrow consumed the blood, and shortened life. Hence, in The Third Part of King Henry VI. we have—“blood-sucking sighs.” Malone. See Hamlet, Act IV. Sc. VII. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 6That is renown'd for faith?] This Romeo, so renown'd for faith, was but the day before dying for love of another woman: yet this is natural. Romeo was the darling object of Juliet's love, and Romeo was, of course, to have every excellence. M. Mason. It does not appear that Juliet was aware of Romeo's former attachment. Boswell.

Note return to page 494 7Is she not down so late, or up so early?] Is she not laid down in her bed at so late an hour as this? or rather is she risen from bed at so early an hour of the morn? Malone.

Note return to page 495 8&lblank; procures her hither?] Procures for brings. Warburton.

Note return to page 496 9The quarto 1597 thus commences this scene: ”Enter Juliet's Mother, Nurse. “Moth. Where are you, daughter? “Nur. What lady, lamb, what Juliet! “Jul. How now, who calls? “Nur. It is your mother. “Moth. Why, how now, & c.” Boswell.

Note return to page 497 1Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? &c.] So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “&lblank; time it is that now you should our Tybalt's death forget; “Of whom since God hath claim'd the life that was but lent, “He is in bliss, ne is there cause why you should thus lament: “You cannot call him back with tears and shriekings shrill; “It is a fault thus still to grudge at God's appointed will.” Malone. So, full as appositely, in Painter's Novel: “Thinke no more upon the death of your cousin Thibault; whom do you thinke to revoke with teares?” Steevens.

Note return to page 498 2God pardon him!] The word him, which was inadvertently omitted in the old copies, was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 499 3Ay, madam, from, &c.] Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover. Johnson.

Note return to page 500 4That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,] Thus the elder quarto, which I have followed in preference to the quartos 1599 and 1609, and the folio 1623, which read, less intelligibly: “Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram.” Steevens. The elder quarto has—That should, &c. The word shall is drawn from that of 1599. Malone. “&lblank; unaccustom'd dram.” In vulgar language, Shall give him a dram which he is not used to. Though I have, if I mistake not, observed, that in old books unaccustomed signifies wonderful, powerful, efficacious. Johnson. I believe Dr. Johnson's first explanation is the true one. Barnaby Googe, in his Cupido Conquered, 1563, uses unacquainted in the same sense: “And ever as we mounted up,   “I lookte upon my wynges, “And proude I was, me thought, to see   “Suche unacquaynted thyngs.” Steevens.

Note return to page 501 5&lblank; my cousin Tybalt &lblank;] The last word of this line, which is not in the old copies, was added by the editor of the second folio. But whether this was the word omitted is uncertain. It was more probably an epithet to cousin; such as,—my murdered cousin. It is unlikely the compositor should omit the last word of a line, especially a proper name. Malone.

Note return to page 502 6Find thou, &c.] This line, in the quarto 1597, is given to Juliet. Steevens.

Note return to page 503 7&lblank; in happy time,] A la bonne heure. This phrase was interjected, when the hearer was not quite so well pleased as the speaker. Johnson.

Note return to page 504 8The county Paris,] It is remarked, that “Paris, though in one place called Earl, is most commonly stiled the Countie in this play. Shakspeare seems to have preferred, for some reason or other, the Italian Comte to our Count: perhaps he took it from the old English novel, from which he is said to have taken his plot.”—He certainly did so: Paris is there first stiled a young Earle, and afterwards Counte, Countee, County; according to the unsettled orthography of the time. The word, however, is frequently met with in other writers; particularly in Fairfax: “As when a captaine doth besiege some hold,   “Set in a marish, or high on a hill, “And trieth waies and wiles a thousand fold,   “To bring the place subjected to his will; “So far'd the Countie with the Pagan bold,” &c. Godfrey of Bulloigne, book vii. stanza 90. Farmer. See p. 53, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 505 9A joyful bride.] This dialogue between Juliet and her mother, is considerably altered from the first quarto, where it is thus given: “Moth. Why how now, Juliet? “Jul. Madam, I am not well. “Moth. What, evermore weeping for your cousin's death? “I think, thou'lt wash him from his grave with tears. “Jul. I cannot choose, having so great a loss. “Moth. I cannot blame thee; “But it grieves thee more, that villain lives. “Jul. What villain, madam? “Moth. That villain Romeo. “Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder. “Moth. Content thee, girl; if I could find a man, “I soon would send to Mantua, where he is, “That should bestow on him so sure a draught, “As he should soon bear Tybalt company. “Jul. Find you the means, and I'll find such a man. “For whilst he lives, my heart shall ne'er be light. “Till I behold him—dead—is my poor heart “Thus for a kinsman vext. “Moth. We'll let that pass. I come to bring thee joyful news. “Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time. “Moth. Well then, thou hast a careful father, girl, “And one who, pitying thy needful state, “Hath found thee out a happy day of joy. “Jul. What day is that, I pray you? “Moth. Marry, my child, “The gallant, young, and youthful gentleman, “The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church, “Early next Thursday morning, shall provide “To make you there a glad and joyful bride! “Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too, “He shall not there make me a joyful bride. “Are these the news you had to tell me of? “Marry, here are news, indeed. Madam, I will not marry yet; “And when I do, it shall be rather Romeo, whom I hate, “Than county Paris that I cannot love. “Moth. Here comes your father; you may tell him so.” Boswell.

Note return to page 506 1When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;] Thus the undated quarto. The quarto 1599, and the folio, read—the earth doth drizzle dew. The line is not in the original copy. The reading of the quarto 1599, and the folio, is philosophically true; and perhaps ought to be preferred. Dew undoubtedly rises from the earth, in consequence of the action of the heat of the sun on its moist surface. Those vapours which rise from the earth in the course of the day, are evaporated by the warmth of the air as soon as they arise; but those which rise after sun-set, form themselves into drops, or rather into that fog or mist which is termed dew. Though with the modern editors, I have followed the undated quarto, and printed—the air doth drizzle dew, I suspected when this note was written, that earth was the poet's word, and a line in The Rape of Lucrece, strongly supports that reading: “But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set &lblank;.” Malone. When our author, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, says: “And when she [the moon] weeps, weeps every little flower;” he only means that every little flower is moistened with dew, as if with tears; and not that the flower itself drizzles dew. This passage sufficiently explains how the earth, in the quotation from The Rape of Lucrece, may be said to weep. Steevens. That Shakspeare thought it was the air and not the earth that drizzled dew, is evident from other passages. So, in King John: “Before the dew of evening fall.” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “His dews fall every where.” Again, in the same play: “The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her.” Again, in Hamlet: “Dews of blood fell.” Ritson.

Note return to page 507 2How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?] In Thomas Heywood's Troia Britannica, cant. ii. st. 40, 1609, there is the same allusion: “You should not let such high-priz'd moysture fall, “Which from your hart your conduit-eyes distill.” Holt White. Conduits in the form of human figures, it has been already observed, were common in Shakspeare's time. See Winter's Tale, Act V. Sc. II. We have again the same image in The Rape of Lucrece: “A pretty while these pretty creatures stand, “Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling.” So, in Turberville's Tragick Tales, 1587, p. 162: “Why leave we to lament, why keepe we in our cryes, “Why do we not poure out our plaints by conduits of the eyes?” The same image occurs more than once in the old poem of Romeus and Juliet: “His sighs are stopt, and stopped in the conduit of his teares.” Again: “So that my payned heart by conduytes of the eyne, “No more henceforth (as wont it was) shall gush forth dropping bryne.” Malone.

Note return to page 508 3Our decree?] This passage is thus given in the quarto 1597: “In one little body thou resemblest a sea, a bark, a storm: “For this thy body, which I term a bark, “Still floating in thy ever-falling tears, “And tost with sighs arising from thy heart, “Will, without succour, shipwreck presently: “But hear you, wife! What! have you sounded her? what says she to it?” Boswell.

Note return to page 509 *Quarto A, I have; but she will none, she thanks you.

Note return to page 510 †Quarto A, Would God that she.

Note return to page 511 4&lblank; chop logick!] This term, which hitherto has been divided into two words, I have given as one, it being, as I learn from The XXIIII Orders of Knaves, bl. l. no date, a nick-name: “Choplogyk is he that whan his mayster rebuketh his servaunt for his defawtes, he will gyve hym xx wordes for one, or elles he wyll bydde the deuylles pater noster in scylence.” In The Contention betwyxte Churchyeard and Camell, &c. 1560, this word also occurs: “But you wyl choplogyck “And be Bee-to-busse,” &c. Steevens. But why make any change when the old reading affords as good a meaning? Malone.

Note return to page 512 5And yet not proud; &c.] This line is wanting in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 513 *Quarto A, Out you greene sicknes baggage, out you tallow face.

Note return to page 514 6&lblank; out, you baggage! You tallow-face!] Such was the indelicacy of the age of Shakspeare, that authors were not contented only to employ these terms of abuse in their own original performances, but even felt no reluctance to introduce them in their versions of the most chaste and elegant of the Greek or Roman Poets. Stanyhurst, the translator of Virgil, in 1582, makes Dido call Æneas—hedge-brat, cullion, and tar-breech, in the course of one speech. Nay, in the Interlude of The Repentance of Mary Magdalene, 1567, Mary Magdalen says to one of her attendants: “Horeson, I beshrowe your heart, are you here?” Steevens.

Note return to page 515 7&lblank; had sent us &lblank;] So the first quarto, 1597. The subsequent ancient copies read—had lent us. Malone.

Note return to page 516 8God's bread! &c.] The first three lines of this speech are formed from the first quarto, and that of 1599, with which the folio concurs. The first copy reads: “God's blessed mother, wife, it makes me mad. “Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad, “Alone, in company, waking or sleeping, “Still my care hath been to see her match'd.” The quarto 1599, and the folio, read: “God's bread, it makes me mad. “Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, “Alone, in company, still my care hath been “To have her match'd,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 517 9&lblank; and having now provided A gentleman of princely parentage, &lblank; A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, To answer—I'll not wed,—I cannot love,] So, in Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Such care thy mother had, so dear thou wert to me, “That I with long and earnest suit provided have for thee “One of the greatest lords that wons about this town, “And for his many virtues' sake a man of great renown;— “&lblank; And yet thou playest in this case “The dainty fool and stubborn girl; for want of skill, “Thou dost refuse thy offer'd weal, and disobey my will. “Even by his strength I swear that first did give me life, “And gave me in my youth the strength to get thee on my wife, “Unless by Wednesday next thou bend as I am bent, “And, at our castle call'd Freetown, thou freely do assent “To county Paris' suit,— “Not only will I give all that I have away, “From thee to those that shall me love, me honour and obey; “But also to so close and to so hard a gale “I shall thee wed for all thy life, that sure thou shalt not fail “A thousand times a day to wish for sudden death:— “Advise thee well, and say that thou art warned now, “And think not that I speak in sport, or mind to break my vow.” “There is a passage in an old play called Wily Beguil'd, so nearly resembling this, that one poet must have copied from the other. Wily Beguil'd was on the stage before 1596, being mentioned by Nashe in his Have with You to Saffron Walden, printed in that year. In that play Gripe gives his daughter Lelia's hand to a suitor, which she plucks back; on which her Nurse says: “&lblank; She'll none, she thanks you, sir. “Gripe. Will she none? why, how now, I say? “What, you powting, peevish thing, you untoward baggage, “Will you not be ruled by your father? “Have I ta'en care to bring you up to this? “And will you doe as you list? “Away, I say; hang, starve, beg, be gone; “Out of my sight! pack, I say: “Thou ne'er get'st a pennyworth of my goods for this. “Think on't; I do not use to jest: “Be gone, I say, I will not hear thee speake.” Malone.

Note return to page 518 *Quarto A, Think on't, look to't, I do not use to jest.

Note return to page 519 1Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?] So, in King John, in two parts, 1591: “Ah boy, thy yeeres, I see, are far too greene, “To look into the bottom of these cares.” Malone.

Note return to page 520 2In that dim monument, &c.] The modern editors read dun monument. I have replaced dim from the old quarto 1597, and the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 521 3Some comfort, nurse.] The quarto 1597 has only this line: “Ah! Nurse, what counsel, what comfort, canst thou give me?” Boswell.

Note return to page 522 †Quarto A, Now trust me, madam, I know not what so say.

Note return to page 523 4'Faith, here 'tis: Romeo Is banished; and all the world to nothing, That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;— Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the county.] The character of the Nurse exhibits a just picture of those whose actions have no principles for their foundation. She has been unfaithful to the trust reposed in her by Capulet, and is ready to embrace any expedient that offers, to avert the consequences of her first infidelity. Steevens. This picture, however, is not an original. In The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562, the Nurse exhibits the same readiness to accommodate herself to the present conjuncture: “The flattering nurse did not praise the friar for his skill, “And said that she had done right well, by wit to order will; “She setteth forth at large the father's furious rage, “And eke she praiseth much to her the second marriage; “And county Paris now she praiseth ten times more “By wrong, than she herself by right had Romeus prais'd before: “Paris shall dwell there still; Romeus shall not return; “What shall it boot her all her life to languish still and mourn?” Malone. Sir John Vanbrugh, in The Relapse, has copied in this respect the character of his Nurse from Shakspeare. Blackstone.

Note return to page 524 5&lblank; so green, &lblank; an eye,] So the first editions. Sir T. Hanmer reads—so keen. Johnson. Perhaps Chaucer has given to Emetrius, in The Knight's Tale, eyes of the same colour: “His nose was high, his eyin bright citryn:” i. e. of the hue of an unripe lemon or citron. Again, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher and Shakspeare, Act V. Sc. I.: “&lblank; oh vouchsafe, “With that thy rare green eye,” &c.— I may add that Arthur Hall (the most ignorant and absurd of all the translators of Homer), in the fourth Iliad (4to, 1581,) calls Minerva— “The greene eide Goddese &lblank;.” Steevens. What Shakspeare meant by this epithet here, may be easily collected from the following lines, which he has attributed to Thisbé in the last Act of A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “These lily lips, “This cherry nose, “These yellow cowslip cheeks, “Are gone, are gone!— “His eyes were green as leeks.” Malone.

Note return to page 525 *Quarto A, As for your husband he is dead.

Note return to page 526 6As living here &lblank;] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads,—as living hence, that is, at a distance, in banishment; but here may signify, in this world. Johnson.

Note return to page 527 7To what?] The syllable—To, which is wanting towards the measure, I have ventured to supply. When Juliet says—Amen! the Nurse might naturally ask her to which of the foregoing sentiments so solemn a formulary was subjoined. Steevens. The quarto, 1597 has it—What say you, madam? Boswell.

Note return to page 528 †Quarto A, wondrous.

Note return to page 529 8Ancient damnation!] This term of reproach occurs in The Malcontent, 1604: “&lblank; out, you ancient damnation!” Steevens.

Note return to page 530 9And I am nothing slow, &c.] His haste shall not be abated by my slowness. It might be read: And I am nothing slow to back his haste: that is, I am diligent to abet and enforce his haste. Johnson. Slack was certainly the author's word, for, in the first edition, the line ran— “And I am nothing slack to slow his haste.” Back could not have stood there. If this kind of phraseology be justifiable, it can be justified only by supposing the meaning to be, there is nothing of slowness in me, to induce me to slacken or abate his haste. The meaning of Paris is very clear; he does not wish to restrain Capulet, or to delay his own marriage; but the words which the poet has given him, import the reverse of this, and seem rather to mean, I am not backward in restraining his haste; I endeavour to retard him as much as I can. Dr. Johnson saw the impropriety of this expression, and that his interpretation extorted a meaning from the words, which they do not at first present; and hence his proposed alteration; but our author must answer for his own peculiarities. See Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV. Sc. XII. Malone.

Note return to page 531 1&lblank; be slow'd.] So, in Sir A. Gorges' translation of the second book of Lucan: “&lblank; will you overflow “The fields, thereby my march to slow?” Steevens.

Note return to page 532 2That is no slander, sir, &c.] Thus the first and second folio. The quarto 1597 reads—That is no wrong, &c. and so leaves the measure defective. Steevens. A word was probably omitted at the press. The quarto 1599, and the subsequent copies, read: “That is no slander, sir, which is a truth.” The context shows that the alteration was not made by Shakspeare. Malone. The repetition of the word wrong, is not, in my opinion, necessary: besides, the reply of Paris justifies the reading in the text: “Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 533 3Or shall I come to you at evening mass?] Juliet means vespers. There is no such thing as evening mass. “Masses (as Fynes Moryson observes) are only sung in the morning, and when the priests are fasting.” So, likewise, in The Boke of Thenseygnemente and Techynge that the Knyght of the Toure made to his Doughters: translated and printed by Caxton: “And they of the parysshe told the preest that it was past none, and therfor he durst not synge masse, and so they hadde no masse that daye.” Ritson.

Note return to page 534 *Quarto A, that am past cure.

Note return to page 535 4Shall be the label to another deed,] The seals of deeds in our author's time were not impressed on the parchment itself on which the deed was written, but were appended on distinct slips or labels affixed to the deed. Hence in King Richard II. the Duke of York discovers a covenant which his son the Duke of Aumerle had entered into by the depending seal: “What seal is that, which hangs without thy bosom?” See the fac-simile of Shakspeare's hand writing in vol. ii. Malone.

Note return to page 536 5Shall play the umpire;] That is, this knife shall decide the struggle between me and my distresses. Johnson.

Note return to page 537 6&lblank; commission of thy years and art &lblank;] Commission is for authority or power. Johnson.

Note return to page 538 *Quarto A, Speak not, be briefe, for I desire to die.

Note return to page 539 *Quarto A, Strength or will.

Note return to page 540 †Quarto A, To fly from blame.

Note return to page 541 7O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower;] So, in King Leir, written before 1594: “Yea, for to do thee good, I would ascend “The highest turret in all Britanny, “And from the top leap headlong to the ground.” Malone. “&lblank; of yonder tower;” Thus the quarto 1597. All other ancient copies—of any tower. Steevens.

Note return to page 542 8&lblank; chain me, &c.] “Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk “Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears, “Or hide me nightly,” &c. It is thus the editions vary. Pope. My edition has the words which Mr. Pope has omitted; but the old copy seems in this place preferable; only perhaps we might better read— Where savage bears and roaring lions roam. Johnson. I have inserted the lines which Mr. Pope omitted; for which I must offer this short apology: in the lines rejected by him we meet with three distinct ideas, such as may be supposed to excite terror in a woman, for one that is to be found in the others. The lines now omitted are these: “Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top, “Where roaring bears and savage lions roam; “Or shut me &lblank;.” The lines last quoted, which Mr. Pope and Dr. Johnson preferred, are found in the copy of 1597; in the text the quarto of 1599 is followed, except that it has—Or hide me nightly, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 543 9And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;] In the quarto 1599, and 1609, this line stands thus: “And hide me with a dead man in his,” The editor of the folio supplied the defect by reading—in his grave, without adverting to the disgusting repetition of that word. The original copy leads me to believe that Shakspeare wrote—in his tomb; for there the line stands thus: “Or lay me in a tombe with one new dead.” I have, however, with the other modern editors, followed the undated quarto, in which the printer filled up the line with the word shroud. Malone. It may be natural for the reader to ask by what evidence this positive assertion, relative to the printer, is supported. To creep under a shroud, and so be placed in close contact with a corpse, is surely a more terrifick idea than that of being merely laid in a tomb with a dead companion. Steevens.

Note return to page 544 1To my sweet love.] Thus the quarto 1599, and the folio: the quarto 1597 reads, I think with more spirit: “To keep myself a faithful unstain'd wife, “To my dear lord, my dearest Romeo.” Boswell.

Note return to page 545 *Quarto A, Hold, Juliet, hie thee home; get thee to bed.

Note return to page 546 2Take thou this phial, &c.] So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet: “Receive this phial small, and keep it in thine eye, “And on the marriage day, before the sun doth clear the sky, “Fill it with water full up to the very brim, “Then drink it off, and thou shalt feel throughout each vein and limb “A pleasant slumber slide, and quite dispread at length “On all thy parts; from every part reve all thy kindly strength: “Withouten moving then thy idle parts shall rest, “No pulse shall go, no heart once heave within thy hollow breast; “But thou shalt lie as she that dieth in a trance; “Thy kinsmen and thy trusty friends shall wail the sudden chance: “Thy corps then will they bring to grave in this church-yard, “Where thy forefathers long ago a costly tomb prepar'd: “&lblank; where thou shalt rest, my daughter, “Till I to Mantua send for Romeus, thy knight, “Out of the tomb both he and I will take thee forth that night.” Malone. Thus, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. ii. p. 237: “Beholde heere I give thee a viole, &c. drink so much as is contained therein. And then you shall feele a certaine kinde of pleasant sleepe, which incroching by litle and litle all the parts of your body, will constrain them in such wise, as unmoveable they shal remaine: and by not doing their accustomed duties, shall loose their natural feelings, and you abide in such extasie the space of xl hours at the least, without any beating of poulse or other perceptible motion, which shall so astonne them that come to see you, as they will judge you to be dead, and according to the custome of our citie, you shall be caried to the churchyard hard by our church, when you shall be entombed in the common monument of the Capellets your ancestors,” &c. The number of hours during which the sleep of Juliet was to continue, is not mentioned in the poem. Steevens.

Note return to page 547 †Quarto A, And when thou art alone, take thou this violl.

Note return to page 548 3&lblank; through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, &c.] The first edition of 1597 has in general been here followed, except only, that instead of “a cold and drowsy humour, we there find—“a dull and heavy slumber,” and a little lower, “no sign of breath,” &c. The speech, however, was greatly enlarged; for in the first copy it consists of only thirteen lines; in the subsequent edition, of thirty-three. Malone.

Note return to page 549 *Quarto A, No signe of breath.

Note return to page 550 4The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes;] It may be remarked, that this image does not occur either in Painter's prose translation, or Brooke's metrical version of the fable on which conjunctively the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is founded. It may be met with, however, in A Dolefull Discourse of a Lord and a Ladie, by Churchyard, 4to. 1593: “Her colour changde, her cheerfull lookes   “And countenance wanted spreete; “To sallow ashes turnde the hue   “Of beauties blossomes sweete: “And drery dulnesse had bespred   “The wearish bodie throw;   “Each vitall vaine did flat refuse   “To do their dutie now. “The blood forsooke the wonted course,   “And backward ganne retire; “And left the limmes as cold and swarfe   “As coles that wastes with fire.” Steevens. “To paly ashes.” These words are not in the original copy. The quarto 1599, and the folio, read—To many ashes, for which the editor of the second folio substituted—mealy ashes. The true reading is found in the undated quarto. This uncommon adjective occurs again in King Henry V.: “&lblank; and through their paly flames, “Each battle sees the other's umber'd face.” Malone.

Note return to page 551 5&lblank; thy eyes' windows fall,] So, in Venus and Adonis: “Her two blue windows faintly she upreareth.” So, in Kyd's Cornelia: “A dullness that disposeth us to rest “Gan close the windowes of my watchful eyes.” Malone.

Note return to page 552 6Two and forty hours,] Instead of the remainder of this scene, the quarto 1597 has only these four lines: “And when thou art laid in thy kindred's vault, “I'll send in haste to Mantua, to thy lord; “And he shall come, and take thee from thy grave. “Jul. Friar, I go; be sure thou send for my dear Romeo.” Boswell.

Note return to page 553 7Then (as the manner of our country is,) In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,] The Italian custom here alluded to, of carrying the dead body to the grave, richly dressed and with the face uncovered, (which is not mentioned by Painter,) our author found particularly described in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet: “Another use there is, that whosoever dies, “Borne to their church with open face upon the bier he lies, “In wonted weed attir'd, not wrapt in winding-sheet &lblank;.” Malone. Thus also Ophelia's song in Hamlet: “They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier &lblank;.” Steevens. “In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier.” Between this line and the next, the quartos 1592, 1609, and the first folio, introduce the following verse, which the poet, very probably, had struck out, on his revisal, because it is quite unnecessary, as the sense of it is repeated, and as it will not connect with either: “Be borne to burial in thy kindred's grave.” Had Virgil lived to have revised his Æneid, he would hardly have permitted both of the following lines to remain in his text: “At Venus obscuro gradientes aere sepsit; “Et multo nebulæ circum dea fudit amictu.” The aukward repetition of the nominative case in the second of them, seems to decide very strongly against it. Fletcher, in his Knight of Malta, has imitated the foregoing passage: “&lblank; and thus thought dead, “In her best habit, as the custom is “You know, in Malta, with all ceremonies, “She's buried in her family's monument,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 554 8&lblank; and he and I Will watch thy waking,] These words are not in the folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 555 9If no unconstant toy, &c.] If no fickle freak, no light caprice, no change of fancy, hinder the performance. Johnson. “If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear, “Abate thy valour in the acting it.” These expressions are borrowed from the poem: “Cast off from thee at once the weed of womanish dread, “With manly courage arm thyself from heel unto the head:— “God grant he so confirm in thee thy present will, “That no inconstant toy thee let thy promise to fulfill!” Malone.

Note return to page 556 *First folio, care.

Note return to page 557 1Give me, give me! O, tell me not of fear,] For this strong and passionate line, Mr. Steevens, in his zeal for metre, would substitute: “Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear.” Boswell.

Note return to page 558 2&lblank; go hire me twenty cunning cooks.] Twenty cooks for half a dozen guests! Either Capulet has altered his mind strangely, or our author forgot what he had just made him tell us. See p. 159. Ritson. This arose from his sometimes following and sometimes deserting his original. The scene referred to, was his own invention; but here he has recollected the poem: “Then said, the glad old man from home goeth straight abrode, “And to the stately palace hyeth, where Paris made abode; “Whom he desyres to be, on Wensday next, his geast, “At Freetowne, where he myndes to make for him a costly feast.” Malone.

Note return to page 559 3&lblank; lick his own fingers:] I find this adage in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, p. 157: “As the olde cocke crowes so doeth the chick: “A bad cooke that cannot his owne fingers lick.” Steevens.

Note return to page 560 4&lblank; Friar Laurence?] This line, and the three following speeches, are thus given in the quarto 1597: “&lblank; But where's this headstrong? “Moth. She's gone, my lord, to friar Laurence' cell, “To be confessed. “Cap. Ah! he may hap to do some good of her, “A headstrong self-willed harlotrie it is.” Boswell.

Note return to page 561 5&lblank; from shrift &lblank;] i. e. from confession. So, in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, 1608: “Ay, like a wench comes roundly to her shrift.” In the old Morality of Every Man, bI. I. no date, confession is personified: “Now, I pray you, shrifte, mother of salvacyon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 562 6&lblank; gadding?] The primitive sense of this word was to straggle from house to house, and collect money, under pretence of singing carols to the Blessed Virgin. See Mr. T. Warton's note on Milton's Lycidas, v. 40. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 7&lblank; prostrate here.] The rest of the scene is thus given in the quarto 1597: “And crave remission of so foul a fact. [She kneels down. “Moth. Why, that's well said. “Cap. Now, before God, this holy reverend friar, “All our whole city is much bound unto. “Go tell the county presently of this, “For I will have this knot knit up to-morrow. “Jul. Nurse, will you go with me to my closet, “To sort such things as shall be requisite “Against to-morrow? “Moth. I prithee then, do, good nurse, go in with her. “Help her to sort lyres, robatres, chains, “And I will come unto you presently. “Nur. Come, sweetheart, shall we go? “Jul. I prithee, let us. [Exeunt Nurse and Juliet. “Moth. Methinks, on Thursday would be time enough. “Cap. I say, I will have this dispatch'd to-morrow. “Go one, and certify the count thereof. “Moth. I pray, my lord, let it be Thursday. “Cap. I say, to-morrow, while she's in the mood. “Moth. We shall be short in our provision. “Cap. Let me alone for that: Go get you in. “Now, before God, my heart is passing light, “To see her thus conformed to our will.” Boswell.

Note return to page 564 8&lblank; becomed love &lblank;] Becomed for becoming: one participle for the other; a frequent practice with our author. Steevens.

Note return to page 565 9&lblank; this reverend holy friar, All our whole city is much bound to him.] So, in Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “&lblank; this is not, wife, the friar's first desert; “In all our commonweal scarce one is to be found, “But is, for some good turn, unto this holy father bound.” Malone. Thus the folio, and the quartos 1599 and 1609. The oldest quarto reads, I think, more grammatically: “All our whole city is much bound unto.” Steevens.

Note return to page 566 1We shall be short &lblank;] That is, we shall be defective. Johnson.

Note return to page 567 2'Tis now near night.] It appears, in a foregoing scene, that Romeo parted from his bride at day-break on Tuesday morning. Immediately afterwards she went to Friar Laurence, and he particularly mentions the day of the week, [“Wednesday is to-morrow.”] She could not well have remained more than an hour or two with the friar, and she is just now returned from shrift:—yet Lady Capulet says, “'tis near night,” and this same night is ascertained to be Tuesday. This is one out of the many instances of our author's inaccuracy in the computation of time. Malone. I am not aware of any inaccuracy here: as it is Tuesday night, Lady Capulet thinks she cannot be prepared by the next morning, and wishes the marriage to be postponed till Thursday, as was at first intended. Boswell.

Note return to page 568 3Enter Juliet and Nurse.] Instead of the next speech, the quarto 1597 supplies the following short and simple dialogue: “Nurse. Come, come; what need you anie thing else? “Juliet. Nothing, good nurse, but leave me to myselfe. “Nurse. Well there's a cleane smocke under your pillow, and so good night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 569 4For I have need, &c.] Juliet plays most of her pranks under the appearance of religion: perhaps Shakspeare meant to punish her hypocrisy. Johnson. The pretence of Juliet's, in order to get rid of the Nurse, was suggested by the Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, and some of the expressions of this speech were borrowed from thence: “Dear friend, quoth she, you know to-morrow is the day “Of new contract: wherefore, this night, my purpose is to pray “Unto the heavenly minds that dwell above the skies, “And order all the course of things as they can best devise, “That they so smile upon the doings of to-morrow, “That all the remnant of my life may be exempt from sorrow; “Wherefore, I pray you, leave me here alone this night, “But see that you to-morrow come before the dawning light, “For you must curl my hair, and set on my attire &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 570 5Enter Lady Capulet.] This dialogue is equally short in the quarto 1597: “Enter Mother. “Moth. What, are you busy? do you need my help? “Jul. No, madam; I desire to lye alone, “For I have many things to think upon. “Moth. Well then, good night, be stirring, Juliet, “The county will be early here to-morrow.” Boswell.

Note return to page 571 6Farewell! &c.] This speech received considerable additions after the elder copy was published. Steevens.

Note return to page 572 *Quarto A inserts here, Ah! I doe take a fearful thing in hand.

Note return to page 573 7I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life:] So, in Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “And whilst she in these thoughts doth dwell somewhat too long, “The force of her imagining anon did wax so strong, “That she surmis'd she saw out of the hollow vault, “A grisly thing to look upon, the carcase of Tybalt: “Right in the self same sort that she few days before “Had seen him in his blood embrew'd, to death eke wounded sore. “Her dainty tender parts 'gan shiver all for dread, “Her golden hair did stand upright upon her chillish head: “Then pressed with the fear that she there lived in, “A sweat as cold as mountain ice pierc'd through her tender skin.” Malone.

Note return to page 574 8What if this mixture do not work at all?] So, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. ii. p. 239: “&lblank; but what know I (sayd she) whether the operation of this pouder will be to soone or to late, or not correspondent to the due time, and that my faulte being discovered, I shall remayne a jesting stocke and fable to the people? what know I moreover, if the serpents and other venemous and crauling wormes, which commonly frequent the graves and pittes of the earth, will hurt me thinkyng that I am dead? But how shall I endure the stinche of so many carions and bones of myne auncestors which rest in the grave, if by fortune I do awake before Romeo and frier Laurence doe come to help me? And as she was thus plunged in the deepe contemplation of things, she thought that she sawe a certaine vision or fansie of her cousin Thibault, in the very same sort as she sawe him wounded and imbrued with blood.” Steevens. Here also Shakspeare appears to have followed the Poem: “&lblank; to the end I may my name and conscience save, “I must devour the mixed drink that by me here I have: “Whose working and whose force as yet I do not know:— “And of this piteous plaint began another doubt to grow: “What do I know, (quoth she) if that this powder shall “Sooner or later than it should, or else not work at all? “And what know I, quoth she, if serpents odious, “And other beasts and worms, that are of nature venemous, “That wonted are to lurk in dark caves under ground, “And commonly, as I have heard, in dead men's tombs are found, “Shall harm me, yea or nay, where I shall lie as dead? “Or how shall I, that always have in so fresh air been bred, “Endure the loathsome stink of such a heaped store “Of carcases not yet consum'd and bones that long before “Intombed were, where I my sleeping-place shall have, “Where all my ancestors do rest, my kindred's common grave? “Shall not the friar and my Romeus, when they come, “Find me, if I awake before, y-stifled in the tomb?” Malone.

Note return to page 575 9Must I of force be married to the county?] Thus the quarto of 1597, and not, as the line has been exhibited in the late editions— “Shall I of force be married to the Count?” The subsequent ancient copies read, as Mr. Steevens has observed, “Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? Malone.

Note return to page 576 1&lblank; lie thou there. [Laying down a dagger.] This stage-direction has been supplied by the modern editors. The quarto 1597 reads: “Knife, lie thou there.” It appears from several passages in our old plays, that knives were formerly part of the accoutrements of a bride; and every thing behoveful for Juliet's state had just been left with her. So, in Decker's Match Me in London, 1631: “See at my girdle hang my wedding knives!” Again, in King Edward III. 1599: “Here by my side do hang my wedding knives: “Take thou the one, and with it kill thy queen, “And with the other, I'll dispatch my love.” Again: “&lblank; there was a maide named, &c.—she tooke one of her knives that was some halfe a foote long,” &c. &c. “And it was found in all respects like to the other that was in her sheath.” Goulart's Admirable Histories, &c. 4to. 1607, pp. 176, 178. In the third book of Sidney's Arcadia we are likewise informed, that Amphialus “in his crest carried Philocleas' knives, the only token of her forced favour.” Steevens. In order to account for Juliet's having a dagger, or, as it is called in old language, a knife, it is not necessary to have recourse to the ancient accoutrements of brides, how prevalent soever the custom mentioned by Mr. Steevens may have been; for Juliet appears to have furnished herself with this instrument immediately after her father and mother had threatened to force her to marry Paris: “If all fail else, myself have power to die.” Accordingly, in the very next scene, when she is at the Friar's cell, and before she could have been furnished with any of the apparatus of a bride, (not having then consented to marry the count,) she says— “Give me some present counsel, or, behold, “'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife “Shall play the umpire.” Malone. Mr. Gifford in a note on Jonson's Staple of News, informs us that in Shakspeare's time, “daggers, or as they were more commonly called, knives, were worn at all times by every woman in England.” Gifford's Jonson, vol. v. p. 221. Boswell.

Note return to page 577 2I will not entertain so bad a thought.] This line I have restored from the quarto 1597. Steevens.

Note return to page 578 3As in a vault, &c.] This idea was probably suggested to our poet by his native place. The charnel at Stratford upon Avon is a very large one, and perhaps contains a greater number of bones than are to be found in any other repository of the same kind in England. I was furnished with this observation by Mr. Murphy, whose very elegant and spirited defence of Shakspeare against the criticisms of Voltaire, is not one of the least considerable out of many favours which he has conferred on the literary world. Steevens.

Note return to page 579 4&lblank; green in earth,] i. e. fresh in earth, newly buried. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; of our dear brother's death, “The memory be green.” Again, in The Opportunity, by Shirley: “&lblank; I am but “Green in my honours.” Steevens.

Note return to page 580 5Lies fest'ring &lblank;] To fester is to corrupt. So, in King Edward III. 1599: “Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.” This line likewise occurs in the 94th Sonnet of Shakspeare. The play of Edward III. has been ascribed to him. Steevens.

Note return to page 581 6&lblank; is it not like, that I,] This speech is confused, and inconsequential, according to the disorder of Juliet's mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 582 7&lblank; run mad;] So, in Webster's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: “I have this night digg'd up a mandrake, “And am grown mad with't.” Again, in The Atheist's Tragedy, 1611: “The cries of mandrakes never touch'd the ear “With more sad horror, than that voice does mine.” Again, in A Christian turn'd Turk, 1612: “I'll rather give an ear to the black shrieks “Of mandrakes,” &c. Again, in Aristippus, or the Jovial Philosopher: “This is the mandrake's voice that undoes me.” The mandrake (says Thomas Newton, in his Herball to the Bible, 8vo. 1587,) has been idly represented as “a creature having life and engendered under the earth of the seed of some dead person that hath beene convicted and put to death for some felonie or murther; and that they had the same in such dampish and funerall places where the saide convicted persons were buried,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 583 8&lblank; be distraught,] Distraught is distracted. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 10: “Is, for that river's sake, near of his wits distraught.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. ix.: “What frantick fit, quoth he, hath thus distraught,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 584 9Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.] So the first quarto, 1597. The subsequent ancient copies read: “Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drink, I drink to thee.” Malone. “Drink to thee.” This soliloquy is thus shortly given in the quarto 1597: “Farewell!—God knows when we shall meet again. “Ah! I do take a fearful thing in hand. “What if this potion should not work at all? “Must I, of force, be married to the county? “This shall forbid it. Knife, lie thou there. “What if the Friar should give me this drink “To poison me, for fear I should disclose “Our former marriage? ah! I wrong him much. “He is a holy and religious man. “I will not entertain so bad a thought. “What if I should be stifled in the tomb? “Awake an hour before the appointed time? “Ah, then, I fear, I shall be lunatick, “And, playing with my dead forefathers' bones, “Dash out my frantick brains. Methinks I see “My cousin Tybalt weltering in his blood, “Seeking for Romeo:—Stay, Tybalt, stay!— “Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. “[She falls upon her bed, within the curtains.” Boswell.

Note return to page 585 1They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.] i.e. in the room where paste was made. So laundry, spicery, &c. Malone. On the books of the Stationers' Company, in the year 1560, are the following entries: “Item payd for iiii pound of dates iiii s. “Item payd for xxiiii pounde of prunys iii. s. viii d.” Steevens.

Note return to page 586 2The curfeu bell &lblank;] I know not that the morning-bell is called the curfeu in any other place. Johnson. The curfew bell was rung at nine in the evening, as appears from a passage in The Merrry Devil of Edmonton, 1608: “&lblank; well 'tis nine o'clock, 'tis time to ring curfew.” Steevens.

Note return to page 587 3Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica:] Shakspeare has here imputed to an Italian nobleman and his lady all the petty solicitudes of a private house concerning a provincial entertainment. To such a bustle our author might have been witness at home; but the like anxieties could not well have occurred in the family of Capulet, whose wife, if Angelica be her name, is here directed to perform the office of a housekeeper. Steevens. Such were the simple manners of our poet's time, that, without doubt, in many families much superior to Shakspeare's, the lady of the house gave directions concerning the baked meats. Malone.

Note return to page 588 * Quarto 1597, anone.

Note return to page 589 4&lblank; a mouse-hunt in your time;] In my original attempt to explain this passage, I was completely wrong, for want of knowing that in Norfolk, and many other parts of England, the cant term for a weasel is—a mouse-hunt. The intrigues of this animal, like those of the cat kind, are usually carried on during the night. This circumstance will account for the appellation which Lady Capulet allows her husband to have formerly deserved Stevens. The animal called the mouse-hunt is the martin. Henley. “Cat after kinde, good mouse-hunt,” is a proverb in Heywood's Dialogue, 1598, 1st pt. c. 2. Holt White.

Note return to page 590 5Make haste, I say!] For this speech the quarto 1597 has only four lines: “Well, go thy way, thou shalt be logger-head. “Come, come, make haste! call up your daughter. “The countie will be here with musick straight. “Gods me! he's come. Nurse, call up my daughter.” Boswell.

Note return to page 591 6&lblank; set up his rest,] This expression, which is frequently employed by the old dramatick writers, is taken from the manner of firing the harquebuss. This was so heavy a gun, that the soldiers were obliged to carry a supporter called a rest, which they fixed in the ground before they levelled to take aim. Decker uses it in his comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600: “&lblank; set your heart at rest, for I have set up my rest, that unless you can run swifter than a hart, home you go not.” The same expression occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's Elder Brother: “&lblank; My rest is up, “Nor will i go less &lblank;.” Again, in The Roaring Girl, 1611: “Like a musket on a rest.” See Montfaucon's Monarchie Françoise, tom. v. plate 48. Steevens. The above expression may probably be sometimes used in the sense already explained; it is, however, oftener employed with a reference to the game at primero, in which it was one of the terms then in use. In the second instance above quoted it is certainly so. To avoid loading the page with examples, I shall refer to Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. x. p. 364, edit. 1780, where several are brought together. Reed. “To set up one's rest,” is, in fact, a gambling expression, and means that the gamester has determined what stake he should play for. In the passage quoted by Steevens from Fletcher's Elder Brother, when Eustace says: “My rest is up, and I will go no less;” he means to say, my stake is laid, and I will not play for a smaller. The same phrase very frequently occurs in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. It is also used by Lord Clarendon, in his History, as well as in the old comedy of Supposes, published in the year 1587. M. Mason. Nash quibbles upon this word, in his Terrors of the Night: “You that are married and have wives of your owne, and yet hold too nere frendship with your neighbours, set up your rests, that the Night will be an il neighbour to your rest, and that you shall have as little peace of minde as the rest.” Boswell.

Note return to page 592 7&lblank; why lady! &lblank; fye, you slug-a-bed! &lblank; Ay, let the county take you in your bed;] So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet: “First softly did she call, then louder did she cry, “Lady, you sleep too long, the earl will raise you by and by. Malo.

Note return to page 593 8Accursed time! &c.] This line is taken from the first quarto, 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 594 9Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.] Our author has here followed the poem closely, without recollecting that he had made Capulet, in this scene, clamorous in his grief. In The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, Juliet's mother makes a long speech, but the old man utters not a word: “But more than all the rest the father's heart was so “Smit with the heavy news, and so shut up with sudden woe, “That he ne had the power his daughter to beweep, “Ne yet to speak, but long is forc'd his tears and plaints to keep.” Malone.

Note return to page 595 1O son, the night before thy wedding day Hath death lain with thy bride:] Euripides has sported with this thought in the same manner. Iphig. in Aul. ver. 460. &grT;&grha;&grn;&grd; &gra;&grusc; &grt;&graa;&grl;&gra;&gri;&grn;&gra;&grn; &grp;&gra;&grr;&grq;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grn; (&grt;&gria; &grp;&gra;&grr;&grq;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grn;; &GRAra;&grd;&grh;&grst; &grn;&gri;&grn;, &grwr;&grst; &gresa;&gro;&gri;&grk;&gre;, &grn;&gru;&grm;&grf;&gre;&grua;&grs;&gre;&gri; &grt;&graa;&grx;&gra;). Sir W. Rawlinson. “Hath death lain with thy bride.” Perhaps this line is coarsely ridiculed in Decker's Satiromastix: “Dead: she's death's bride; he hath her maidenhead.” Steevens. Decker seems rather to have intended to ridicule a former line in this play: “&lblank; I'll to my wedding bed, “And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead.” If indeed any ridicule was intended, for he has the same thought in his Wonderful Yeare. “Death rudely lay with her, and spoiled her of a maidenhead in spite of her husband.” The word see in the line before us, is drawn from the first quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 596 2Flower as she was, deflowered by him.] This jingle was common to other writers; and, among the rest, to Greene, in his Greene in Conceipt, 1598: “&lblank; a garden-house having round about it many flowers, and within it much deflowering.” Collins.

Note return to page 597 3Death is my son-in-law, &c.] The remaining part of this speech, “death is my heir,” &c. was omitted by Mr. Pope in his edition; and some of the subsequent editors, following his example, took the same unwarrantable licence. The lines were very properly restored by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 598 4&lblank; life leaving, all is death's.] The old copies read—life living. The emendation was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 599 5&lblank; morning's face,] The quarto 1597 continues the speech of Paris thus: “And doth it now present such prodigies? “Accurst, unhappy, miserable man, “Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am; “Born to the world to be a slave in it: “Distrest, remediless, unfortunate. “O heavens! Oh nature! wherefore did you make me “To live so vile, so wretched as I shall?” Steevens.

Note return to page 600 6O woe! O woeful, &c.] This speech of exclamations is not in the edition above-cited [that of 1597]. Several other parts unnecessary or tautology, are not to be found in the said edition; which occasions the variation in this from the common books. Pope. In the next the enlarged copy of 1599 is here followed. Malone.

Note return to page 601 7Dead art thou! &c.] From the defect of the metre it is probable that Shakspeare wrote: Dead, dead, art thou! &c. When the same word is repeated, the compositor often is guilty of omission. Malone. I have repeated the word—dead, though in another part of the line—Dead art thou, dead! Steevens.

Note return to page 602 8&lblank; confusion's cure &lblank;] Old copies—care. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. These violent and confused exclamations, says the Friar, will by no means alleviate that sorrow which at present overwhelms and disturbs your minds. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Why, Collatine, is woe the cure of woe?” Malone.

Note return to page 603 9For though fond nature &lblank;] This line is not in the first quarto. The quarto 1599, and the folio, read—though some nature. The editor of the second folio substituted fond for some. I do not believe this was the poet's word, though I have nothing better to propose. I have already shown that all the alterations made by the editor of the second folio were capricious, and generally extremely injudicious. In the preceding line the word all is drawn from the quarto 1597, where we find— “In all her best and sumptuous ornaments,” &c. The quarto 1599, and folio, read— “And in her best array bear her to church.” Malone. I am fully satisfied with the reading of the second folio, the propriety of which is confirmed by the following passage in Coriolanus: “'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 604 1All things, &c.] Instead of this and the following speeches, the eldest quarto has only a couplet: “Cap. Let it be so: come woeful sorrow-mates, “Let us together taste this bitter fate.” Steevens. “All things, that we ordained festival,” &c. So, in the poem already quoted: “Now is the parent's mirth quite changed into mone, “And now to sorrow is return'd the joy of every one; “And now the wedding weeds for mourning weeds they change, “And Hymen to a dirge:—alas! it seemeth strange. “Instead of marriage gloves now funeral gowns they have, “And, whom they should see married, they follow to the grave; “The feast that should have been of pleasure and of joy, “Hath every dish and cup fill'd full of sorrow and annoy.” Malone.

Note return to page 605 2&lblank; burial feast;] See Hamlet, Act I. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 606 3&lblank; a pitiful case.] If this speech was designed to be metrical, we should read—piteous. Steevens.

Note return to page 607 4Enter Peter.] From the quarto of 1599, it appears, that the part of Peter was originally performed by William Kempe. Malone.

Note return to page 608 5&lblank; My heart is full of woe:] This is the burthen of the first stanza of A Pleasant new Ballad of Two Lovers: “Hey hoe! my heart is full of woe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 609 6&lblank; O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me.] A dump anciently signified some kind of dance, as well as sorrow. So, in Humour Out of Breath, a comedy, by John Day, 1607: “He loves nothing but an Italian dump, “Or a French brawl.” But on this occasion it means a mournful song. So, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584, after the shepherds have sung an elegiac hymn over the hearse of Colin, Venus says to Paris— “&lblank; How cheers my lovely boy after this dump of woe? “Paris. Such dumps, sweet lady, as bin these, are deadly dumps to prove.” Steevens. Dumps were heavy mournful tunes; possibly indeed any sort of movements were once so called, as we sometimes meet with a merry dump. Hence doleful dumps, deep sorrow, or grievous affliction, as in the next page but one, and in the less ancient ballad of Chevy Chase. It is still said of a person uncommonly sad, that he is in the dumps. In a MS. of Henry the Eighth's time, now among the King's Collection in the Museum, is a tune for the cittern, or guitar, entitled, “My lady Careys dompe;” there is also “The duke of Somersettes dompe;” as we now say, “Lady Coventry's minuet,” &c. “If thou wert not some blockish and senseless dolt, thou wouldest never laugh when I sung a heavy mixt-Lydian tune, or a note to a dumpe or dolefull dittie.” Plutarch's Morals, by Holland, 1602, p. 61. Ritson. At the end of The Secretaries Studie, by Thomas Gainsford, Esq. 4to. 1616, is a long poem of forty-seven stanzas, and called A Dumpe or Passion. It begins in this manner: “I cannot sing; for neither have I voyce, “Nor is my minde nor matter musicall; “My barten pen hath neither form nor choyce: “Nor is my tale or talesman comicall, “Fashions and I were never friends at all:   “I write and credit that I see and knowe,   “And mean plain troth; would every one did so.” Reed.

Note return to page 610 7&lblank; the gleek:] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Nay, I can gleek, upon occasion.” To gleek is to scoff. The term is taken from an ancient game at cards called gleek. So, in Turberville's translation of Ovid's Epistle from Dido to Æneas: “By manly mart to purchase prayse, “And give his foes the gleeke.” Again, in the argument to the same translator's version of Hermione to Orestes: “Orestes gave Achylles' sonne the gleeke.” Steevens. The use of this cant term is nowhere explained; and in all probability cannot, at this distance of time, be recovered. To gleek however signified to put a joke or trick upon a person, perhaps to jest according to the coarse humour of that age. See A Midsummer Night's Dream, above quoted. Ritson.

Note return to page 611 8No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel.] Shakspeare's pun has here remained unnoticed. A Gleekman or Gligman, as Dr. Percy has shown, signified a minstrel. See his Essay on the Antient English Minstrels, p. 55. The word gleek here signifies scorn, as Mr. Steevens has already observed; and is, as he says, borrowed from the old game so called, the method of playing which may be seen in Skinner's Etymologicon, in voce, and also in The Compleat Gamester, 2d edit. 1676, p. 90. Douce. “&lblank; the minstrel.” From the following entry on the books of the Stationers' Company, in the year 1560, it appears, that the hire of a parson was cheaper than that of a minstrel or a cook. “Item, payd to the preacher vi s. ii d. “Item, payd to the minstrell xii s. “Item, payd to the coke xv s.” Steevens.

Note return to page 612 9When griping grief, &c.] The epithet griping was by no means likely to excite laughter at the time it was written. Lord Surrey, in his translation of the second book of Virgil's Æneid, makes the hero say: “New gripes of dred then pearse our trembling brestes.” Dr. Percy thinks that the questions of Peter are designed as a ridicule on the forced and unnatural explanations too often given by us painful editors of ancient authors. Steevens. “IN COMMENDATION OF MUSICKE. “Where griping grief ye hart would wo&ubar;d, (& dolful domps ye mind oppresse) “There musick with her silver sound, is wont with spede to geue redresse; “Of troubled minds for every sore, swete musick hath a salue in store: “In ioy it maks our mirth abound, in grief it chers our heauy sprights, “The carefull head releef hath found, by musicks pleasant swete delights: “Our senses, what should I saie more, are subject unto musicks lore. “The gods by musick hath their pray, the soul therein doth ioye, “For as the Romaine poets saie, in seas whom pirats would destroye, “A Dolphin sau'd from death most sharpe, Arion playing on his harp. “Oh heauenly gift that turnes the minde, (like as the sterne doth rule the ship,) “Of musick, whom ye gods assignde to comfort man, whom cares would nip, “Sith thou both man, and beast doest moue, what wisem&abar; th&ebar; will thee reprove? From the Paradise of Daintie Deuises, fol. 31. b. “Richard Edwards.” Of Richard Edwards and William Hunnis, the authors of sundry poems in this collection, see an account in Wood's Athenæ Oxon. and also in Tanner's Bibliotheca. Sir John Hawkins. Another copy of this song is published by Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Steevens.

Note return to page 613 1And doleful dumps the mind oppress.] This line I have recovered from the old copy [1597]. It was wanting to complete the stanza as it is afterwards repeated. Steevens.

Note return to page 614 2&lblank; Simon Catling?] A catling was a small lute-string made of catgut. Steevens. In An Historical Account of Taxes under all Denominations in the Time of William and Mary, p. 336, is the following article: For every gross of catlings and lutestring.” &c. A. C.

Note return to page 615 3Hugh Rebeck?] The fidler is so called from an instrument with three strings, which is mentioned by several of the old writers. Rebec, rebecquin. See Menage, in v. Rebec. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle: “&lblank; 'Tis present death for these fidlers to tune their rebecks before the great Turk's grace.” In England's Helicon, 1600, is The Shepherd Arsilius, his Song to his Rebeck, by Bar. Yong. Steevens. It is mentioned by Milton, as an instrument of mirth: “When the merry bells ring round, “And the jocund rebecks sound &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 616 4&lblank; silver sound,] So, in the Return from Parnassus, 1606: “Faith, fellow fidlers, here's no silver sound in this place.” Again, in Wily Beguiled, 1606: “&lblank; what harmony is this “With silver sound that glutteth Sophos' ears?” Spenser perhaps is the first author of note who used this phrase: “A silver sound that heavenly musick seem'd to make.” Steevens. Edwards's song preceded Spenser's poem. Malone.

Note return to page 617 5&lblank; because such fellows as you &lblank;] Thus the quarto 1597. The others read—because musicians. I should suspect that a fidler made the alteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 618 6Exeunt.] The quarto of 1597 differs so much from the subsequent copies in this scene, that I have given it entire as it stands in that copy: “Enter Mother. “Moth. What, are you busy? do you need my help? “Jul. No, madam; I desire to lie alone, “For I have many things to think upon. “Moth. Well, then, good night; be stirring, Juliet, “The country will be early here to-morrow. [Exit. “Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. “Ah, I do take a fearful thing in hand. “What if this potion should not work at all, “Must I of force be married to the county? “This shall forbid it. Knife, lie thou there. “What if the friar should give me this drink “To poison me, for fear I should disclose “Our former marriage? Ah, I wrong him much; “He is a holy and religious man: “I will not entertain so bad a thought. “What if I should be stifled in the tomb? “Awake an hour before the appointed time? “Ah then I fear I shall be lunatick; “And playing with my dead forefathers' bones, “Dash out my frantick brains. Methinks I see “My cousin Tybalt welt'ring in his blood, “Seeking for Romeo: stay, Tybalt, stay! “Romeo, I come; this do I drink to thee. [She falls upon her bed within the curtains. “Enter Nurse with herbs, and Mother. “Moth. That's well said, Nurse; set all in readiness; “The county will be here immediately. “Enter Old Man. “Cap. Make haste, make haste, for it is almost day, “The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis four o'clock; “Look to your bak'd meats, good Angelica. “Nur. Go get you to bed, you cotqueen. I'faith you will be sick anon. “Cap. I warrant thee, Nurse; I have ere now watch'd all night, and have taken no harm at all. “Moth. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time. “Enter Serving Man with logs and coals. “Cap. A jealous hood, jealous hood: How now, sirra? “What have you there? “Ser. Forsooth, logs. “Cap. Go, go choose drier. Will will tell thee where thou shalt fetch them. “Ser. Nay, I warrant, let me alone; I have a head I trow to choose a log. [Exit. “Cap. Well, go thy way; thou shalt be loggerhead. “Come, come, make haste, call up your daughter, “The county will be here with musick straight. “Gods me, he's come: Nurse, call up my daughter. “Nur. Go, get you gone. What lamb, what lady bird! fast, I warrant. What Juliet! well, let the county take you in your bed: you sleep for a week now; but the next night, the county Paris hath set up his rest that you shall rest but little. What, lamb, I say, fast still: what, lady, love! what, bride! what, Juliet! Gods me, how sound she sleeps! Nay, then I see I must wake you, indeed. What's here, laid on your bed? dress'd in your cloaths, and down? Ah me! alack the day! some aqua vitæ! ho! “Enter Mother. “Moth. How now? what's the matter? “Nur. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! “Moth. Accurst, unhappy, miserable time. “Enter Old Man. “Cap. Come, come, make haste, where's my daughter? “Moth. Ah, she's dead, she's dead. “Cap. Stay, let me see, all pale and wan. “Accursed time, unfortunate old man. “Enter Friar and Paris. “Par. What is the bride ready to go to church? “Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. “O son, the night before thy wedding day “Hath death lain with thy bride; flower as she is, “Deflower'd by him! see where she lies; “Death is my son-in-law; to him I give all that I have. “Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, “And doth it now present such prodigies? “Accurst, unhappy, miserable man, “Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am; “Born to the world to be a slave in it. “Distress'd, remediless, and unfortunate. “O heavens, O nature, wherefore did you make me, “To live so vile, so wretched as I shall? “Cap. O here she lies that was our hope, our joy; “And being dead, dead sorrow nips us all. [All at once cry out and wring their hands. “All cry. And all our joy, and all our hope is dead, “Dead, lost, undone, absented, wholly fled. “Cap. Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies, “Why to this day have you preserv'd my life? “To see my hope, my stay, my joy, my life, “Depriv'd of sense, of life, of all, by death? “Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies. “Cap. O sad fac'd sorrow, map of misery, “Why this sad time have I desir'd to see? “This day, this unjust, this impartial day, “Wherein I hop'd to see my comfort full, “To be depriv'd by sudden destiny? “Moth. O woe, alack, distress'd, why should I live? “To see this day, this miserable day? “Alack the time that ever I was born “To be partaker of this destiny! “Alack the day, alack and well-a-day! “Fr. O peace, for shame, if not for charity. “Your daughter lives in peace and happiness, “And it is vain to wish it otherwise. “Come, stick your rosemary in this dead corse; “And as the custom of our country is, “In all her best and sumptuous ornaments, “Convey her where her ancestors lie tomb'd. “Cap. Let it be so, come woeful sorrow mates, “Let us together taste this bitter fate. [They all but the Nurse go forth, casting rosemary on her, and shutting the curtains. “Enter Musicians. “Nur. Put up, put up, this is a woeful case. [Exit. “1. Ay, by my troth, mistress, is it; it had need be mended. “Enter Serving Man. “Ser. Alack, alack, what shall I do! come, fidlers, play me some merry dump. “1. Ah, sir; this is no time to play. “Ser. You will not then? “1. No, marry, will we. “Ser. Then will I give it you, and soundly too. “1. What will you give us? “Ser. The fidler, I'll re you, I'll fa you, I'll sol you. “1. If you re us and fa us, we will note you. “Ser. I will put up my iron dagger, and beat you with my wooden wit. Come on, Simon Found-pot, I'll pose you. “1. Let's hear. “Ser. When griping grief the heart doth wound, “And doleful dumps the mind oppress, “Then musick with her silver sound, “Why silver sound? Why silver sound? “1. I think because musick hath a sweet sound. “Ser. Pretty! what say you, Matthew Minikin? “2. I think because musicians sound for silver. “Ser. Pretty too: come, what say you? “3. I say nothing. “Ser. I think so, I'll speak for you because you are the singer. I say silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding. Farewell, fidlers, farewell. [Exit. “1. Farewell and be hang'd: come, let's go. [Exeunt.” Boswell.

Note return to page 619 7Act V.] The Acts are here properly enough divided, nor did any better distribution than the editors have already made, occur to me in the perusal of this play; yet it may not be improper to remark, that in the first folio, and I suppose the foregoing editions are in the same state, there is no division of the Acts, and therefore some future editor may try, whether any improvement can be made, by reducing them to a length more equal, or interrupting the action at more proper intervals. Johnson.

Note return to page 620 8If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,] Thus the earliest copy; meaning, perhaps, if I may trust to what I saw in my sleep. The folio reads: “If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep;” which is explained, as follows, by Dr. Johnson. Steevens. The sense is—If I may trust the honesty of sleep, which I know however not to be so nice as not often to practise flattery. Johnson. The sense seems rather to be—If I may repose any confidence in the flattering visions of the night. Whether the former word ought to supersede the more modern one, let the reader determine: it appears to me, however, the most easily intelligible of the two. Steevens. I once thought that the flattering eye of sleep meant the visual power which a man asleep is enabled, by the aid of imagination, to exercise; but I now conceive, that the god of sleep was in the contemplation of the speaker, and the meaning appears to be this—If I may trust the favourable aspect of sleep, which too often, like the words of the flatterer, is delusive and untrue. This interpretation, and the reading of the old copy, may be supported by a passage in Richard III.: “My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks; “O, if thy eye be not a flatterer, “Come thou on my side, and entreat for me.” The reading in the text is that of the original copy in 1597, which, in my opinion is preferable in this and various other places, to the subsequent copies. That of 1599, and the folio, read: “If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,” which by a very forced interpretation may mean,—If I may confide in the pleasing visions of sleep, and believe them to be true. Otway, to obtain a clearer sense than that furnished by the words which Dr. Johnson has interpreted, reads, less poetically than the original copy, which he had probably never seen, but with nearly the same meaning: “If I may trust the flattery of sleep, “My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:” and Mr. Pope has followed him. Malone.

Note return to page 621 *Quarto A, dreame presaged some good event to come.

Note return to page 622 9My bosom's lord &lblank;] So, in King Arthur, a Poem, by R. Chester, 1601: “That neither Uter nor his councell knew “How his deepe bosome's lord the dutchess thwarted.” The author, in a marginal note, declares, that by bosom's lord, he means—Cupid. Steevens. So also, in the Preface to Caltha Poetarum, or the Bumblebee, 1599: “&lblank; whilst he [Cupid,] continues honoured in the world, we must once a yeare bring him upon the stage, either dancing, kissing, laughing, or angry, or dallying with his darlings, seating himself in their breasts,” &c. Thus too Shakspeare, in Twelfth Night: “It gives a very echo to the seat “Where love is thron'd.” Again, in Othello: “Yield up, O Love, thy crown and hearted throne.” Though the passage quoted above from Othello proves decisively that Shakspeare considered the heart as the throne of love, it has been maintained, since this note was written, strange as it may seem, that by my bosom's lord, we ought to understand, not the god of love, but the heart. The words—love sits lightly on his throne, says Mr. Mason, can only import “that Romeo loved less intensely than usual.” Nothing less. Love, the lord of my bosom, (says the speaker,) who has been much disquieted by the unfortunate events that have happened since my marriage, is now, in consequence of my last night's dream, gay and cheerful. The reading of the original copy—“sits cheerful in his throne,” ascertains the author's meaning beyond a doubt. When the poet described the god of love as sitting lightly on the heart, he was thinking, without doubt, of the common phrase, a light heart, which signified in his time, as it does at present, a heart undisturbed by care. Whenever Shakspeare wishes to represent a being that he has personified, eminently happy, he almost always crowns him, or places him on a throne. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep.” Again, in the play before us: “Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit: “For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd, “Sole monarch of the universal earth.” Again, more appositely, in King Henry V.: “As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, “Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.” Malone. “My bosom's lord—” These three lines are very gay and pleasing. But why does Shakspeare give Romeo this involuntary cheerfulness just before the extremity of unhappiness? Perhaps to show the vanity of trusting to those uncertain and casual exaltations or depressions, which many consider as certain fore-tokens of good and evil. Johnson. The poet has explained this passage himself a little further on: “How oft, when men are at the point of death, “Have they been merry? which their keepers call “A lightning before death.” Again, in G. Whetstone's Castle of Delight, 1576: “&lblank; a lightning delight against his souden destruction.” Steevens.

Note return to page 623 †Quarto A, cheerfull.

Note return to page 624 1I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead; &lblank; And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, That I reviv'd,] Shakspeare seems here to have remembered Marlowe's Hero and Leander, a poem that he has quoted in As You Like It; “By this sad Hero &lblank; “Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted; “He kiss'd her, and breath'd life into her lips,” &c.

Note return to page 625 2I dreamt, my lady &lblank; That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.] So, in Shakspeare's 87th Sonnet: “Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, “In sleep a king.” Steevens. Instead of the six lines preceding, quarto 1597 has the following: “And I am comforted with pleasing dreams. “Methought I was this night already dead: “(Strange dreams that give a dead man leave to think,) “And that my lady Juliet came to me, “And breath'd such life,” &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 626 3How fares my Juliet?] So the first quarto. That of 1599, and the folio, read: “How doth my lady Juliet?” Malone.

Note return to page 627 *Quarto, Then nothing can be ill, for she is well.

Note return to page 628 4&lblank; in Capels' monument,] Thus the old copies; and thus Gascoigne, in his Flowers, p. 51: “Thys token whych the Mountacutes did beare alwaies, so that “They covet to be knowne from Capels, where they passe, “For ancient grutch whych long ago 'tweene these two houses was.” Steevens. Shakspeare found Capel and Capulet used indiscriminately in the poem which was the groundwork of this tragedy. For Capels' monument the modern editors have substituted Capulet's monument. Malone. Not all of them. The edition preceding Mr. Malone's does not, on this occasion, differ from his. Reed.

Note return to page 629 *Quarto A, Pardon me, sir, that am the messenger of such bad tidings.

Note return to page 630 5&lblank; I defy you, stars!] The first quarto—I defy my stars. The folio reads—deny you, stars. The present and more animated reading is picked out of both copies. Steevens. The quarto of 1599, and the folio, read—I deny you, stars. Malone.

Note return to page 631 †Quarto A, Goe get me inke and paper; hyre post-horse; I will not stay in Mantua to-night.

Note return to page 632 6Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus:] This line is taken from the quarto 1597. The quarto 1609, and the folio, read: “I do beseech you, sir, have patience.” Steevens. So also the quarto 1599. Malone.

Note return to page 633 7I'll be with thee straight.] For the seven preceding verses quarto 1597 has these five: “Balt. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus; “Your looks are dangerous, and full of fear: “I dare not, nor I will not, leave you yet. “Rom. Do as I bid thee; get me ink and paper, “And hire those horses: stay not, I say.” Boswell.

Note return to page 634 8Let's see for means: &lblank;] From hence to the end of the scene, it is thus in quarto 1597: “&lblank; As I do remember, “Here dwells a 'pothecary whom oft I noted “As I pass'd by, whose needy shop is stuff'd “With beggarly accounts of empty boxes: “And in the same an alligator hangs. “Old ends of packthread, and cakes of roses, “Are thinly strewed to make up a show. “Him as I noted, thus with myself I thought: “And if a man should need a poison now “(Whose present sale is death in Mantua), “Here he might buy it. This thought of mine “Did but forerun my need: and here about he dwells. “Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. “What ho! apothecary! come forth, I say. “Enter Apothecary. “Apo. Who calls? what would you, sir? “Rom. Here's twenty ducats. “Give me a dram of some such speeding geer “As will dispatch the weary taker's life, “As suddenly as powder being fir'd “From forth a cannon's mouth. “Apo. Such drugs I have I must of force confess, “But yet the law is death to those that sell them. “Rom. Art thou so bare and full of poverty, “And dost thou fear to violate the law? “The law is not thy friend, nor the law's friend, “And therefore make no conscience of the law: “Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, “And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks. “Apo. My poverty, but not my will, consents. “Rom. I pay thy poverty, but not thy will. “Apo. Hold, take you this, and put it in any liquid thing you will, and it will serve, had you the lives of twenty men. “Rom. Hold, take this gold, worse poison to men's souls “Than this which thou hast given me. Go, hie thee hence, “Go, buy thee clothes, and get thee into flesh. “Come cordial, and not poison, go with me “To Juliet's grave: for there must I use thee. [Exeunt.” Boswell.

Note return to page 635 9I do remember an apothecary, &c.] This circumstance is likewise found in Painter's translation, tom ii. p. 241: “&lblank; beholdyng an apoticaries shoppe of lytle furniture, and lesse store of boxes and other thynges requisite for that science, thought that the verie povertie of the mayster apothecarye would make him wyllyngly yelde to that whych he pretended to demaunde.” Steevens. It is clear, I think, that Shakspeare had here the poem of Romeus and Juliet before him; for he has borrowed more than one expression from thence: “And seeking long, alas, too soon! the thing he sought, he found. “An apothecary sat unbusied at his door, “Whom by his heavy countenance he guessed to be poor; “And in his shop he saw his boxes were but few, “And in his window of his wares there was so small a shew; “Wherefore our Romeus assuredly hath thought, “What by no friendship could be got, with money should be bought; “For needy lack is like the poor man to compel “To sell that which the city's law forbiddeth him to sell.— “Take fifty crowns of gold, (quoth he)— “Fair sir, (quoth he) be sure this is the speeding geer, “And more there is than you shall need; for half of that is there “Will serve, I undertake, in less than half an hour “To kill the strongest man alive, such is the poison's power.” Malone.

Note return to page 636 1&lblank; meager were his looks, Sharp Misery had worn him to the bones:] See Sackville's description of Misery, in his Induction: “His face was leane, and some deal pinde away; “And eke his hands consumed to the bone.” Malone.

Note return to page 637 2An alligator stuff'd,] It appears from Nashe's Have With You to Saffron Waldon, 1596, that a stuff'd alligator, in Shakspeare's time, made part of the furniture of an apothecary's shop: “He made (says Nashe) an anatomie of a rat, and after hanged her over his head, instead of an apothecary's crocodile, or dried alligator.” Malone. I was many years ago assured, that formerly, when an apothecary first engaged with his druggist, he was gratuitously furnished by him with these articles of show, which were then imported for that use only. I have met with the alligator, tortoise, &c. hanging up in the shop of an ancient apothecary at Limehouse, as well as in places more remote from our metropolis. See Hogarth's Marriage Alamode, plate iii.—It may be remarked, however, that the apothecaries dismissed their alligators, &c. some time before the physicians were willing to part with their amber-headed canes and solemn periwigs. Steevens.

Note return to page 638 3A beggarly account of empty boxes,] Dr. Warburton would read, a braggartly account; but beggarly is probably right; if the boxes were empty, the account was more beggarly, as it was more pompous. Johnson.

Note return to page 639 4An if a man, &c.] This phraseology which means simply— If, was not unfrequent in Shakspeare's time and before. Thus, in Lodge's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 85: “&lblank; meanys was maid unto me to see an yf I wold appoynt.” &c. Reed.

Note return to page 640 5Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,] The first quarto reads: “And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks.” The quartos 1599, 1609, and the folio: “Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes.” Our modern editors, without authority: “Need and oppression stare within thy eyes.” Steevens. The passage might, perhaps, be better regulated thus: Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes. For they cannot, properly, be said to starve in his eyes; though starved famine may be allowed to dwell in his cheeks. Thy, not thine, is the reading of the folio, and those who are conversant in our author, and especially in the old copies, will scarcely notice the grammatical impropriety of the proposed emendation. Ritson. The modern reading was introduced by Mr. Pope, and was founded on that of Otway, in whose Caius Marius the line is thus exhibited: “Need and oprression stareth in thy eyes.” The word starved in the first copy shows that starveth in the text is right: “And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks.” This line is in my opinion preferable to that which has been substituted in its place, but it could not be admitted into the text without omitting the words&lblank; famine is in thy cheeks, and leaving an hemistich. Malone.

Note return to page 641 6Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,] This is the reading of the oldest copy. I have restored it in preference to the following line, which is found in all the subsequent impressions: “Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back.” In The First Part of Jeronimo, 1605, is a passage somewhat resembling this of Shakspeare: “Whose famish'd jaws look like the chaps of death, “Upon whose eye-brows hang damnation.” Steevens. Perhaps from Kyd's Cornelia, a tragedy, 1594: “Upon thy back where misery doth sit. “O Rome,” &c. Jeronimo was performed before 1590. Malone. See King John, Act I. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 642 7Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off; and, if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.] Perhaps, when Shakspeare allotted this speech to the Apothecary, he had not quite forgot the following passage in The Pardoneres Tale of Chaucer, 12,794: “The Potecary answered, thou shalt have “A thing, as wisly God my soule save, “In all this world ther n'is no creature, “That ete or dronke hath of this confecture, “Not but the mountance of a corne of whete, “That he ne shal his lif anon forlete; “Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lesse while, “Than thou wolt gon a pas not but a mile: “This poison is so strong and violent.” Steevens.

Note return to page 643 *Quarto A, What! Friar Laurence! brother; ho!

Note return to page 644 †Quarto A, What news from Mantua? what, will Romeo come?

Note return to page 645 8On of our order, to associate me,] Each friar has always a companion assigned him by the superior when he asks leave to go out; and thus, says Baretti, they are a check upon each other. Steevens. In The Visitatio Notabilis de Seleburne, a curious record printed in The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne, Wykeham enjoins the canons not to go abroad without leave from the prior, who is ordered on such occasions to assign the brother a companion, ne suspicio sinistra vel scandalum oriatur. Append. p. 448. Holt White. By the Statutes of Trinity College, Cambridge, ch. 22, it is declared—That no batchelor or scholar shall go into the town without a companion as a witness of his honesty, on pain for the first offence to be deprived of a week's commons, with further punishment for the offence if repeated. Reed. “Going to find a bare-foot brother out, “One of our order, to associate me, “Here in this city visiting the sick, “And finding him, the searchers of the town, “Suspecting &c.” So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Apace our friar John to Mantua him hies; “And, for because in Italy it is a wonted guise “That friars in the town should seldom walk alone, “But of their convent aye should be accompanied with one “Of his profession, straight a house he findeth out, “In mind to take some friar with him, to walk the town about.” Our author, having occasion for Friar John, has here departed from the poem, and supposed the pestilence to rage at Verona, instead of Mantua. Friar John sought for a brother merely for the sake of form, to accompany him in his walk, and had no intention of visiting the sick; the words, therefore, to associate me, must be considered as parenthetical, and Here in this city, &c. must refer to the bare-foot brother. I formerly conjectured that the passage ought to be regulated thus: Going to find a bare-foot brother out, One of our order, to associate me, And finding him, the searchers of the town Here in this city visiting the sick, &c. But the text is certainly right. The searchers would have had no ground of suspicion, if neither of the Friars had been in an infected house. Malone. It is thus in quarto 1597: “One of our order, to associate me, “Here in this city visiting the sick, “Where as the infectious pestilence remain'd, “And, being by the searchers of the town, “Found and examined, we were both shut up.” Boswell.

Note return to page 646 *Quarto A, I have them still, and here they are.

Note return to page 647 9&lblank; was not nice,] i.e. was not written on a trivial or idle subject. Nice signifies foolish in many parts of Gower and Chaucer. So, in the second book De Confessione Amantis, fol. 37: “My sonne, eschewe thilke vice.— “My father elles were I nice.” Again, in Chaucer's Scogan unto the Lordes, &c.: “&lblank; the most complaint of all, “Is to thinkin that I have be so nice, “That I ne would in vertues to me call,” &c. Again, in The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou Art, 1570: “You must appeare to be straunge and nyce.” The learned editor of Chaucer's Canterbury Tules, 1775, observes, that H. Stephens informs us, that nice was the old French word for niais, one of the synonymes of sot. Apol. Herod. l.i.c.iv. Steevens. So, in Richard III.: “My lord, this argues conscience in your grace, “But the respects thereof are nice and trivial.” Malone.

Note return to page 648 1Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake;] Instead of this line, and the concluding part of the speech, the quarto 1597 reads only: “Lest that the lady should before I come “Be wak'd from sleep, I will hye “To free her from that tombe of miserie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 649 2Fair Juliet, that with angels, &c.] These four lines from the old edition. Pope. The folio has these lines: “Sweet flow'r, with flow'rs thy bridal bed I strew;   “O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones, “Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,   “Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans. “The obsequies that I for thee will keep, “Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave, and weep.” Johnson. Mr. Pope has followed no copy with exactness; but took the first and fourth lines from the elder quarto, omitting the two intermediate verses, which I have restored. Steevens. The folio follows the quarto of 1599. In the text the seven lines are printed as they appear in the quarto 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 650 3&lblank; muffle me, night, a while.] Thus, in Drayton's Polyolbion: “But suddenly the clouds which on the winds do fly, “Do muffle him againe &lblank;.” Muffle was not become a low word even in the time of Milton, as the Elder Brother in Comus uses it: “Unmuffle, ye faint stars,” &c. A muffler, as I have already observed, was a part of female dress. See Merry Wives of Windsor, Act IV. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 651 4&lblank; dear employment:] That is, action of importance. Gems were supposed to have great powers and virtues. Johnson. See vol. v. p. 77, n. 3. Ben Jonson uses the word dear in the same sense: “Put your known talents on so dear a business.” Catiline, Act I. Again, in Chapman's version of the 10th book of the Odyssey: “&lblank; full pitching on “The dearest joint his head was plac'd upon.” Again, in the ancient MS. romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 14: “Now telle we of the messengere “That went to Charlemayne, “Certyfyinge him by letters dere “How the Romaynes were slayne.” Steevens. See Timon of Athens, Act V. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 652 5&lblank; savage-wild;] Here the speech concludes in the old copy. Steevens.

Note return to page 653 6&lblank; détestable &lblank;] This word, which is now accented on the second syllable, was once accented on the first; therefore this line did not originally seem to be inharmonious. So, in The Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604: “Court with vain words and détestable lyes.” Again, in Shakspeare's King John, Act III. Sc. III.: “And I will kiss thy détestable bones.” Steevens. Again, in Daniel's Civil Warres, 1595: “Such détestable vile impiety.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. i. st. 26: “That détestable sight him much amus'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 654 7Heap not, &c.] Thus the quarto 1597. The quartos 1599 and 1609, and the folios—Put not; which led Mr. Rowe to introduce the unauthorized reading—pull. That in the text, however, is the true one. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; thou heapest “A year's age on me.” Again, in a Letter from Queen Elizabeth to Lady Drury: “Heape not your harmes where helpe ther is none,” &c. See Nichols's Progresses, &c. vol. ii. p. 36, F. 2. b. After all, it is not impossible our author designed we should read—Pluck not, &c. Thus, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; sin will pluck on sin.” Steevens. So, in the poem of Romeus and Juliet: “With sighs and salted tears her shriving doth begin, “For she of heaped sorrows hath to speak, and not of sin.” Malone.

Note return to page 655 8I do defy thy conjurations,] Thus the quarto 1597. Paris conceived Romeo to have burst open the monument for no other purpose than to do some villainous shame on the dead bodies, such as witches are reported to have practised; and therefore tells him he defies him, and the magick arts which he suspects he is preparing to use. So, in Painter's translation of the novel, tom. ii. p. 244: “&lblank; the watch of the city by chance passed by, and seeing light within the grave, suspected straight that they were necromancers which had opened the tombs to abuse the dead bodies, for aide of their arte.” The folio reads: “I do defy thy commiseration.” Among the ancient senses of the word—to defy, was to disdain, refuse, or deny. So, in the Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “Or, as I said, for ever I defy your company.” Again, in The Miseries of Queen Margaret, by Drayton: “My liege, quoth he, all mercy now defy.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. viii.: “Foole, (said the Pagan) I thy gift defye.” Paris may, however, mean—I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. to depart. Steevens. “I do defy thy conjurations.” So the quarto 1597. Instead of this, in that of 1599, we find—commiration. In the next quarto, of 1609, this was altered to commiseration, and the folio being probably printed from thence, the same word is exhibited there. The obvious interpretation of these words, “I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. to depart,” is in my apprehension the true one. Malone.

Note return to page 656 9Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.] This scene, till we come to the following speech of Romeo, is thus given in the quarto 1597: “Enter County Paris and his Page, with flowers and sweet water. “Par. Put out the torch, and lie thee all along “Under this yew-tree, keeping thine ear close to the hollow ground. “And if thou hear one tread within this churchyard, “Straight give me notice. “Boy. I will, my lord. [Paris strews the tomb with flowers. “Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal bed: “Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain “The perfect model of eternity: “Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain, “Accept this latest favour at my hands, “That living honour'd thee, and being dead, “With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb. “Boy whistles and calls. My lord. “Enter Romeo and Balthasar, with a torch, a mattock, and a crow of iron. “Par. The boy gives warning, something doth approach. “What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, “To stay my obsequies and true love's rites? “What, with a torch? muffle me, night, a while. “Rom. “Give me this mattock, and this wrenching iron; “And take these letters: early in the morning, “See thou deliver them to my lord and father. “So get thee gone, and trouble me no more. “Why I descend into this bed of death, “Is partly to behold my lady's face, “But chiefly to take from her dead finger “A precious ring which I must use “In dear employment: but if thou wilt stay, “Further to pry in what I undertake, “By heaven, I'll tear thee joint by joint, “And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. “The time and my intents are savage, wild. “Balt. Well, I'll be gone, and not trouble you. “Rom. So shalt thou win my favour; take thou this; “Commend me to my father; farewell, good fellow. “Balt. Yet for all this will I not part from hence. [Romeo opens the tomb. “Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, “Gor'd with the dearest morsel of the earth. “Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to ope. “Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague. “That murder'd my love's cousin; I will apprehend him “Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague! “Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? “I do attach thee as a felon here. “The law condemns thee, therefore thou must die. “Rom. I must, indeed, and therefore came I hither; “Good youth, be gone! tempt not a desperate man, “Heap not another sin upon my head “By shedding of thy blood. I do protest “I love thee better than I love myself. “For I come hither arm'd against myself, “Par. I do defy thy conjurations, “And do attach thee as a felon here.   “What, dost thou tempt me? then have at thee, boy. [They fight. “Boy. O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. “Par. Ah! I am slain: if thou be merciful, “Open the tomb; lay me with Juliet. “Rom. I'faith, I will; let me peruse this face; “Mercutio's kinsman? noble county Paris? “What said my man, when my betossed soul “Did not regard him as we pass'd along? “Did he not say Paris should have married “Juliet? Either he said so, or I dream'd it so. “But I will satisfy thy last request; “For thou hast priz'd thy love above thy life. “Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. “How oft have many, at the hour of death, “Been blithe and pleasant? which their keepers call “A lightning before death. But how may I “Call this a lightning?” Boswell.

Note return to page 657 1&lblank; or did I dream it so?] Here the quarto 1597 not inelegantly subjoins: “But I will satisfy thy last request, “For thou hast priz'd thy love above thy life.” A following addition, however, obliged our author to omit these lines, though perhaps he has not substituted better in their room. Steevens.

Note return to page 658 2A grave? O, no; a lantern,] A lantern may not, in this instance, signify an enclosure for a lighted candle, but a louvre, or what in ancient records is styled lanternium, i. e. a spacious round or octagonal turret full of windows, by means of which cathedrals, and sometimes halls, are illuminated. See the beautiful lantern at Ely Minster. The same word, with the same sense, occurs in Churchyard's Siege of Edinbrough Castle: “This lofty seat and lantern of that land, “Like lodestarre stode, and lokte o'er eu'ry streete.” Again, in Philemon Holland's translation of the 12th chapter of the 35th book of Pliny's Natural History: “&lblank; hence came the louvers and lanternes reared over the roofes of temples,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 659 3&lblank; presence &lblank;] A presence is a publick room. Jonson. A presence means a publick room, which is at times the presence-chamber of the sovereign. So, in The Two Noble Gentlemen, by Beaumont and Fletcher, Jacques says, his master is a duke,— “His chamber hung with nobles, like a presence.” M. Mason. Again, in Westward for Smelts, 1620: “&lblank; the king sent for the wounded man into the presence.” Malone. This thought, extravagant as it is, is borrowed by Middleton in his comedy of Blurt Master Constable, 1602: “The darkest dungeon which spite can devise “To throw this carcase in, her glorious eyes “Can make as lightsome as the fairest chamber “In Paris Louvre.” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 4&lblank; by a dead man interr'd.] Romeo being now determin'd to put an end to his life, considers himself as already dead. Malone. Till I read the preceding note, I supposed Romeo meant, that he placed Paris by the side of Tybalt who was already dead, and buried in the same monument. The idea, however, of a man's receiving burial from a dead undertaker, is but too like some of those miserable conceits with which our author too frequently counteracts his own pathos. Steevens.

Note return to page 661 5&lblank; O, how may I Call this a lightning?] I think we should read: &lblank; O, now may I Call this a lightning?— Johnson. The reading of the text is that of the quarto 1599. The first copy reads—But how, &c. which shows that Dr. Johnson's emendation cannot be right. Malone. How is certainly right and proper. Romeo had, just before, been in high spirits, a symptom which, he observes, was sometimes called a lightning before death: but how, says he, (for no situation can exempt Shakspeare's characters from the vice of punning) can I term this sad and gloomy prospect a lightning? Ritson. I see no pretence for accusing Shakspeare of a pun in this passage. The words sad and gloomy, which are supposed to be put in contrast with lightning, are of Mr. Ritson's invention. The reading of the first quarto furnishes, I think, the better meaning. Some men are merry before death, but how little cause have I for such a feeling at this moment. Boswell. This idea occurs frequently in the old dramatick pieces. So, in the Second Part of The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “I thought it was a lightning before death, “Too sudden to be certain.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the 15th Iliad: “&lblank; since after this he had not long to live, “This lightning flew before his death.” Again, in his translation of the 18th Odyssey: “&lblank; extènd their cheer “To th' utmost lightning that still ushers death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 662 6Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:] So, in Sidney's Arcadia, b. iii.: “Death being able to divide the soule, but not the beauty from her body.” Steevens. So, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1594: “Decayed roses of discolour'd cheeks “Do yet retain some notes of former grace, “And ugly death sits faire within her face.” Malone.

Note return to page 663 7&lblank; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag, &c.] So, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1594: “And nought respecting death (the last of paines) “Plac'd his pale colours (th' ensign of his might) “Upon his new-got spoil,” &c. In the first edition of Romeo and Juliet, Shakspeare is less florid in his account of the lady's beauty; and only says: “&lblank; ah, dear Juliet, “How well thy beauty doth become this grave!” The speech as it now stands is first found in the quarto 1599. Steevens. “And death's pale flag is not advanced there.” An ingenious friend some time ago pointed out to me a passage of Marini, which bears a very strong resemblance to this: “Morte la 'nsegna sua pallida e bianca “Vincitrice spiegó su'l volto mio.” Rime lugubri, p. 149, edit. Venet. 1605. Tyrwhitt. Daniel, who was an Italian scholar, may have borrowed this thought from Marini. Malone.

Note return to page 664 8Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?] So, in Painter's translation, tom. ii. p. 242: “&lblank; what greater or more cruel satisfaction canst thou desyre to have, or henceforth hope for, than to see hym which murdered thee, to be empoysoned wyth hys owne handes, and buryed by thy syde?” Steevens. So, in the old poem: “Ah cosin dere, Tybalt, whereso thy restles sprite now be, “With stretched handes to thee for mercy now I crye, “For that before thy kindly howre I forced thee to dye. “But if with quenched lyfe not quenched be thine yre, “But with revengeing lust as yet thy hart be set on fyre, “What more amendes or cruell wreake disyrest thou “To see on me, then this which here is shewd forth to thee now? “Who reft by force of armes from thee thy loving breath, “The same with his owne hand, thou seest, doth poison himselfe to death. “And for he caused thee in tombe too soone to lye, “Too soone also, yonger then thou, himselfe he layeth by.” Boswell.

Note return to page 665 9&lblank; Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous; &c.] Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 463, speaking of the power of beauty, tells us:—“But of all the tales in this kinde, that is most memorable of Death himselfe, when he should have stroken a sweet young virgin with his dart, he fell in love with the object.”—Burton refers to Angerianus; but I have met with the same story in some other ancient book of which I have forgot the title. Steevens. So, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1594: “Ah, now, methinks, I see death dallying seeks “To entertain itselfe in love's sweete place.” Instead of the very long notes which have been written on this controverted passage, I shall lay before the reader the lines as they are exhibited in the original quarto of 1597, and that of 1599, with which the folio corresponds. In the quarto 1597, the passage appears thus: “&lblank; Ah, dear Juliet, “How well thy beauty doth become this grave! “O, I believe that unsubstantial death “Is amorous, and doth court my love. “Therefore will I, O here, O ever here, “Set up my everlasting rest “With worms that are thy chamber-maids. “Come, desperate pilot, now at once run on “The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary barge: “Here's to my love.—O, true apothecary, “Thy drugs are swift: thus with a kiss I die. [Falls.” In the quarto 1599, and the folio, (except that the folio has arms instead of arm,) the lines stand thus: “&lblank; Ah, dear Juliet, “Why art thou yet so fair? I will believe, “Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous, “And that the lean abhorred monster keeps “Thee here in dark to be his paramour; “For fear of that I still will stay with thee, “And never from this palace [palat* [Subnote: *&lblank; palat &lblank;] Meaning, perhaps, the bed of night. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee.” In The Second Maiden's Tragedy, however, (an old MS. in the library of the Marquis of Lansdowne,) monuments are styled the “palaces of death.” Steevens.] 4o] of dim night “[Depart again. Come, lie thou in my arm: “Here's to thy health where e'er thou tumblest in. “O true apothecary! “Thy drugs are quick: thus with a kiss I die.] “Depart again; here, here, will I remain “With worms that are thy chamber-maids: O, here “Will I set up my everlasting rest, “And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars, &c. “Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! “Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on “The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! “Here's to my love. O, true apothecary, “Thy drugs are quick: thus with a kiss I die.” There cannot, I think, be the smallest doubt that the words included within crotchets, which are not found in the undated quarto, were repeated by the carelessness or ignorance of the transcriber or compositor. In like manner, in a former scene we have two lines evidently of the same import, one of which only the poet could have intended to retain. See p. 188, n. 7. In a preceding part of this passage Shakspeare was probably in doubt whether he should write— &lblank; I will believe “That unsubstantial death is amorous;” Or, “&lblank; Shall I believe “That unsubstantial death is amorous?” and having probably erased the words I will believe imperfectly, the wise compositor printed the rejected words as well as those intended to be retained. With respect to the line, “Here's to thy health, where'er thou tumblest in,” it is unnecessary to inquire what was intended by it, the passage in which this line is found being afterwards exhibited in another form; and being much more accurately expressed in its second than its first exhibition, we have a right to presume that the poet intended it to appear in its second form, that is, as it now appears in the text. Malone. Mr. Steevens has expressed his acquiescence in Mr. Malone's opinion respecting this passage, but has given the greater part of that gentleman's note, with a very slight alteration of the language, as his own. Boswell.

Note return to page 666 1&lblank; my everlasting rest;] See a note on scene 5th of the preceding Act, p. 203, n. 6. So, in The Spanish Gipsie, by Middleton and Rowley, 1653: “&lblank; could I set up my rest “That he were lost, or taken prisoner, “I could hold truce with sorrow.” To set up one's rest, is to be determined to any certain purpose, to rest in perfect confidence and resolution, to make up one's mind. Again, in the same play: “Set up thy rest; her marriest thou, or none.” Steevens.

Note return to page 667 2&lblank; Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! &lblank;] So, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1594: “Pitiful mouth, said he, that living gavest “The sweetest comfort that my soul could wish, “O, be it lawful now, that dead, thou havest “The sorrowing farewell of a dying kiss! “And you, fair eyes, containers of my bliss, “Motives of love, born to be matched never, “Entomb'd in your sweet circles, sleep for ever!” I think there can be little doubt, from the foregoing lines and the other passages already quoted from this poem, that our author had read it recently before he wrote the last Act of the present tragedy. “A dateless bargain to engrossing death!] Engrossing seems to be used here in its clerical sense. Malone.

Note return to page 668 3Come, bitter conduct,] Marston also in his Satires, 1599, uses conduct for conductor: “Be thou my conduct and my genius.” So, in a former scene in this play: “And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now.” Malone.

Note return to page 669 4This scene, to the death of Juliet, is thus given in the quarto 1597: “Enter Friar, with a lantern. “How oft to-night have these my aged feet “Stumbled at graves as I did pass along! “Who's there? “Man. A friend, and one that knows you well. “Fri. Who is it that consorts so late the dead? “What light is yon? If I be not deceiv'd, “Methinks it burns in Capels' monument? “Man. It doth so, holy sir; and there is one “That loves you dearly. “Fri. Who is it? “Man. Romeo. “Fr. How long hath he been there? “Man. Full half an hour and more. “Fri. Go with me thither. “Man. I dare not, sir; he knows not I am here: “On pain of death, he charg'd me to be gone; “And not for to disturb him in his enterprise. “Fri. Then must I go: my mind presageth ill. “Friar stoops, and looks on the blood and weapons. “What blood is this that stains the entrance “Of this marble stony monument? “What means these masterless and gory weapons? “Ah me! I doubt: Who's here? What, Romeo dead? “Who, and Paris too? what unlucky hour “Is accessary to so foul a sin? “Juliet rises. “The lady stirs. “Jul. Ah comfortable friar! “I do remember well where I should be, “And what we talk'd of? but yet I cannot see “Him for whose sake I undertook this hazard. “Fri. Lady, come forth: I hear some noise at hand; “We shall be taken; Paris, he is slain, “And Romeo dead: and, if we be here ta'en, “We shall be thought to be as accessary. “I will provide for you in some close nunnery. “Jul. Ah! leave me, leave me, I will not from hence. “Fri. I hear some noise; I dare not stay; come, come. “Jul. Go, get thee gone. “What's here, a cup clos'd in my lover's hands? “Ah! churl! drink all, and leave no drop for me? “Enter Watch. “Watch. This way, this way. “Jul. Ay, noise? then must I be resolute. “O happy dagger, thou shalt end my fear, “Rest in my bosom, thus I come to thee. [She stabs herself and falls.” Boswell.

Note return to page 670 5&lblank; how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves?] This accident was reckoned ominous. So, in King Henry VI. P. III.: “For many men that stumble at the threshold, “Are well foretold, that danger lurks within.” Again, in King Richard III. Hastings, going to execution, says: “Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble.”

Note return to page 671 6Who is it, &c.] This very appropriate question I have restored from the quarto 1597. To consort, is to keep company with. So, in Chapman's version of the 23d Iliad: “&lblank; 'Tis the last of all care I shall take, “While I consort the careful.” Steevens.

Note return to page 672 7I dreamt my master and another fought,] This is one of the touches of nature that would have escaped the hand of any painter less attentive to it than Shakspeare. What happens to a person while he is under the manifest influence of fear, will seem to him, when he is recovered from it, like a dream. Homer, book 8th, represents Rhesus dying fast asleep, and as it were beholding his enemy in a dream plunging a sword into his bosom. Eustathius and Dacier both applaud this image as very natural; for a man in such a condition, says Mr. Pope, awakes no further than to see confusedly what environs him, and to think it not a reality, but a vision. Let me add, that this passage appears to have been imitated by Quintus Calaber, xiii. 125: &grP;&groa;&grt;&grm;&gro;&grn; &gror;&grm;&grw;&grst; &gror;&grr;&groa;&grw;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &gros;&grn;&gre;&gri;&grr;&gra;&grs;&gri;&grn;. Steevens.

Note return to page 673 8The lady stirs.] In the alteration of this play now exhibited on the stage, Mr. Garrick appears to have been indebted to Otway, who, perhaps without any knowledge of the story as told by Da Porto and Bandello, does not permit his hero to die before his wife awakes: “Mar. Jun. She breathes, and stirs, “Lav. [in the tomb.] Where am I? bless me! Heaven! “'Tis very cold, and yet here's something warm. “Mar., Jun. She lives, and we shall both be made immortal. “Speak, my Lavinia, speak some heavenly news, “And tell me how the gods design to treat us. “Lav. O, I have slept a long ten thousand years.— “What have they done with me? I'll not be us'd thus: “I'll not wed Sylla; Marius is my husband.” Malone.

Note return to page 674 9&lblank; and unnatural sleep;] Shakspeare alludes to the sleep of Juliet, which was unnatural, being brought on by drugs. Steevens.

Note return to page 675 1Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;] Shakspeare has been arraigned for departing from the Italian novel, in making Romeo die before Juliet awakes from her trance; and thus losing a happy opportunity of introducing an affecting scene between these unfortunate lovers. But he undoubtedly had never read the Italian novel, or any literal translation of it, and was misled by the poem of Romeus and Juliet, the author of which departed from the Italian story, making the poison take effect on Romeo before Juliet awakes. See a translation of the original pathetick narrative at the conclusion of the play, in a note on the poem near the end. Malone.

Note return to page 676 2Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;] It has been objected that there is no such establishment in any of the cities of Italy. Shakspeare seldom scrupled to give the manners and usages of his own country to others. In this particular instance the old poem was his guide: “The weary watch discharg'd did hie them home to sleep.” Again: “The watchmen of the town the whilst are passed by, “And through the gates the candlelight within the tomb they spy.” Malone. In Much Ado About Nothing, where the scene lies at Messina, our author has also introduced watchmen; though without suggestion from any dull poem like that referred to on the present occasion. See, however, Othello, Act I. Sc. II., in which Mr. Malone appears to contradict, on the strongest evidence, the present assertion relating to there being no watch in Italy. Steevens.

Note return to page 677 3O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop,] The text is here made out from the quarto of 1597 and that of 1599. The first has— “Ah churl! drink all, and leave no drop for me!” The other: “O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop, “To help me after?” Malone.

Note return to page 678 4Snatching Romeo's dagger.] So, in Painter's translation of Pierre Boisteau, tom. ii. p. 244: “Drawing out the dagger which Romeo ware by his side, she pricked herself with many blowes against the heart.” Steevens. It is clear that in this and most other places Shakspeare followed the poem, and not Painter, for Painter describes Romeo's dagger as hanging at his side; whereas the poem is silent as to the place where it hung: “And then past deadly fear (for life ne had she care,) “With hasty hand she did draw out the dagger that he ware.” But our author, governed by the fashion of his own time, supposes it to have hung at Romeo's back: “This dagger hath mista'en—for' lo! his house “Is empty on the back of Montague.” Malone.

Note return to page 679 5&lblank; there rust, and let me die.] Is the reading of the quarto 1599. That of 1597 gives the passage thus: “Ay, noise? then must I be resolute. “Oh, happy dagger! thou shalt end my fear; “Rest in my bosom: thus I come to thee.” The alteration was probably made by the poet, when he introduced the words, “This is thy sheath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 680 6From hence to the conclusion, it is thus given in quarto 1597: “Enter Watch. “Capt. Come, look about; what weapons have we here? “See, friends, where Juliet, two days buried, “New bleeding, wounded; search and see who's near; “Attach, and bring them to us presently. “Enter one with the Friar. “1. Captain, here's a friar, with tools about him, “Fit to open a tomb. “Capt. A great suspicion; keep him safe. Enter one with Romeo's man. “1. Here's Romeo's man. “Capt. Keep him to be examined. “Enter Prince, with others. “Prin. What early mischief calls us up so soon? “Capt. O noble Prince, see here “Where Juliet, that hath lain entomb'd two days, “Warm and fresh bleeding; Romeo and county Paris “Likewise newly slain. “Prin. Search, seek about to find the murderers. “Enter old Capulet and his wife. “Cap. What rumour's this that is so early up? “Moth. The people in the streets cry Romeo, “And some on Juliet: as if they alone “Had been the cause of such a mutiny. “Cap. See, wife, this dagger hath mistook: “For (lo!) the back is empty of young Montague, “And it is sheathed in our daughter's breast. “Enter old Montague. “Prin. Come, Montague, for thou art early up, “To see thy son and heir more early down. “Mont. Dread sovereign, my wife is dead to-night, “And young Benvolio is deceased too: “What further mischief can there yet be found? “Prin. First come and see, then speak. “Mont. O, thou untaught, what manners is in this, “To press before thy father to a grave. “Prin. Come, seal your mouths of outrage for a while, “And let us seek to find the authors out “Of such a heinous and seld' seen mischance, “Bring forth the parties in suspicion, “Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least. “Most worthy Prince, hear me but speak the truth. “And I'll inform you how these things fell out. “Juliet, here slain, was married to that Romeo, “Without her father's or her mother's grant: “The nurse was privy to the marriage. “The baleful day of this unhappy marriage “Was Tybalt's doomsday: for which Romeo “Was banished from hence to Mantua. “He gone, her father sought, by foul constraint, “To marry her to Paris: but her soul “(Loathing a second contract) did refuse “To give consent; and, therefore, did she urge me, “Either to find a means she might avoid “What so her father sought to force her too; “Or else all desperately she threatened, “Even in my presence, to dispatch herself. “Then did I give her, (tutor'd by mine art) “A potion that should make her seem as dead: “And told her that I would, with all post speed, “Send hence to Mantua for her Romeo, “That he might come and take her from the tomb. “But he that had my letters (Friar John), “Seeking a brother to associate him, “Whereas the sick infection remain'd, “Was stay'd by the searchers of the town; “But Romeo understanding, by his man, “That Juliet was deceas'd, return'd in post “Unto Verona for to see his love. “What after happen'd, touching Paris' death, “Or Romeo's, is to me unknown at all. “But when I came to take the lady hence, “I found them dead, and she awak'd from sleep: “Whom fain I would have taken from the tomb; “Which she refused, seeing Romeo dead. “Anon I heard the watch, and then I fled; “What after happen'd I am ignorant of. “And, if in this ought have miscarried, “By me, or by my means, let my old life “Be sacrific'd some hours before his time, “To the most strictest rigour of the law. “Pry. We still have known thee for a holy man;— “Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? “Balth. I brought my master word that she was dead, “And then he posted straight from Mantua “Unto this tomb. These letters he deliver'd me, “Charging me early give them to his father. “Prin. Let's see the letters, I will read them over. “Where is the county's boy that call'd the watch? “Boy. I brought my master unto Juliet's grave, “But one approaching, straight I call'd my master. “At last they fought; I ran to call the watch: “And this is all that I can say or know. “Prin. These letters do make good the Friar's words; “Come Capulet, and come old Montague. “Where are these enemies? see what hate hath done. “Cap. Come, brother Montague, give me thy hand, “There is my daughter's dowry: for now no more “Can I bestow on her, that's all I have. “Mon. But I will give them more, I will erect “Her statue of pure gold: “That while Verona by that name is known, “There shall no statue of such price be set “As that of Romeo's loved Juliet. “Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie, “Poor sacrifices to our enmity. “Prin. A gloomy peace this day doth with it bring. “Come, let us hence, “To have more talk of these sad things. “Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: “For ne'er was heard a story of more woe “Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” Boswell.

Note return to page 681 6Raise up the Montagues,—some others search;—] Here seems to be a rhyme intended, which may be easily restored: “Raise up the Montagues. Some others, go. “We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, “But the true ground of all this piteous woe “We cannot without circumstance descry.” Johnson. It was often thought sufficient, in the time of Shakspeare, for the second and fourth lines in a stanza, to rhyme with each other. It were to be wished that an apology as sufficient could be offered for this. Watchman's quibble between ground, the earth, and ground, the fundamental cause. Steevens.

Note return to page 682 7&lblank; that they so shriek abroad?] Thus the folio and the undated quarto. The quarto of 1599 has—that is so shriek abroad. Malone.

Note return to page 683 8What fear is this, which startles in our ears?] The old copies read—in your ears. The emendation was made by Dr. Johnson. Malone.

Note return to page 684 9This dagger hath mista'en,—for, lo! his house Is empty on the back of Montague,— And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.] The modern editors (contrary to the authority of all the ancient copies, and without attention to the disagreeable assonance of sheath and sheathed, which was first introduced by Mr. Pope) read: “This dagger hath mista'en; for, lo! the sheath “Lies empty on the back of Montague, “The point mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.” The quarto 1597, erroneously, “&lblank; this dagger hath mistooke; “For (loe) the back is empty of yong Montague, “And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosome.” If we do not read—it instead of is, Capulet will be made to say —The scabbard is at once empty on the back of Montague, and sheathed in Juliet's bosom. Shakspeare quaintly represents the dagger as having mistaken its place, and “it mis-sheathed,” i. e. “mis-sheathed itself” in the bosom of Juliet. The quarto 1609, and the folio 1623, offer the same reading, except that they concur in giving is instead of it. It appears that the dagger was anciently worn behind the back. So, in The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou Art, 1570: “Thou must weare thy sword by thy side, “And thy dagger handsumly at thy backe.” Again, in Humor's Ordinarie, &c. an ancient collection of satires, no date: “See you the huge bum dagger at his back?” The epithet applied to the dagger, shows at what part of the back it was worn. Steevens. The words, “for, lo! his house is empty on the back of Montague,” are to be considered as parenthetical. In a former part of this scene we have a similar construction. My reading [is] is that of the undated quarto, that of 1609, and the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 685 1&lblank; for thou art early up, &c.] This speech (as appears from the following passage in The Second Part of the Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601) has something proverbial in it: “In you, i'faith, the proverb's verified, “You are early up, and yet are ne'er the near.” Steevens.

Note return to page 686 2Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;] After this line the quarto 1597 adds: “And young Benvolio is deceased too.” But this, I suppose, the poet rejected, on his revision of the play, as unnecessary slaughter. Steevens. The line, which gives an account of Benvolio's death, was probably thrown in to account for his absence from this interesting scene. Ritson.

Note return to page 687 3Look, and thou shalt see.] These words, as they stand, being of no kindred to metre, we may fairly suppose that some others have been casually omitted. Perhaps, our author wrote; Look in this monument, and thou shalt see. Steevens.

Note return to page 688 4O thou untaught! &c.] So, in The Tragedy of Darius, 1603: “Ah me! malicious fates have done me wrong: “Who came first to the world, should first depart. “It not becomes the old t' o'er-live the young; “This dealing is prepost'rous and o'er-thwart.” Steevens. Again, in our poet's Rape of Lucrece: “If children pre-decease progenitors, “We are their offspring, and they none of ours.” Malone.

Note return to page 689 5I will be brief,] It is much to be lamented, that the poet did not conclude the dialogue with the action, and avoid a narrative of events which the audience already knew. Johnson. Shakspeare was led into this uninteresting narrative by following too closely The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet. Malone. In this poem (which is subjoined to the present edition of the play) the bodies of the dead are removed to a publick scaffold, and from that elevation is the Friar's narrative delivered. The same circumstance, as I have already observed, is introduced in Hamlet, near the conclusion. Steevens.

Note return to page 690 7Have lost a brace of kinsmen:] Mercutio and Paris: Mercutio is expressly called the prince's kinsman in Act III. Sc. IV. and that Paris also was the prince's kinsman, may be inferred from the following passages. Capulet, speaking of the count in the fourth Act, describes him as “a gentleman of princely parentage,” and after he is killed, Romeo says: “&lblank; Let me peruse this face; “Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris.” Malone. “A brace of kinsmen.” The sportsman's term—brace, which on the present occasion is seriously employed, is in general applied to men in contempt. Thus, Prospero in The Tempest, addressing himself to Sebastian and Antonio, says:— “But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, “I here,” &c.— Steevens.

Note return to page 691 8A glooming peace, &c.] The modern editions read—gloomy; but glooming, which is an old reading, may be the true one. So, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1603: “Through dreadful shades of ever-glooming night.” To gloom is an ancient verb used by Spenser; and I meet with it likewise in the play of Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1661: “If either he gaspeth or gloometh.” Steevens. Gloomy is the reading of the old copy in 1597; for which glooming was substituted in that of 1599. Malone.

Note return to page 692 9Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:] This seems to be not a resolution in the prince, but a reflection on the various dispensations of Providence; for who was there that could justly be punished by any human law? Edward's MSS. This line has reference to the novel from which the fable is taken. Here we read that Juliet's female attendant was banished for concealing the marriage; Romeo's servant set at liberty because he had only acted in obedience to his master's orders; the apothecary taken, tortured, condemned, and hanged; while friar Laurence was permitted to retire to a hermitage in the neighbourhood of Verona, where he ended his life in penitence and tranquillity. Steevens. The same particulars are found in the old poem: “The wyser sort, to counsell called by Escalus, “Here geven advice, and Escalus sagely decreeth thus: “The nurse of Juliet is banisht in her age, “Because that from the parentes she dyd hyde the mariage, “Which might have wrought much good had it in time been knowne, “Where now by her concealing it a mischeefe great is growne; “And Peter, for he dyd obey his masters hest, “In woonted freedome had good leave to lead his lyfe in rest: “Thapothecary high is hanged by the throte, “And, for the paynes he tooke with him, the hangman had his cote. “But now what shall betyde of this gray-bearded syre, “Of fryer Laurence thus araynde, that good barefooted fryre? “Because that many time he woorthily did serve “The common welth, and in his lyfe was never found to swerve, “He was discharged quyte, and no mark of defame “Did seem to blot or touch at all the honour of his name. “But of himselfe he went into an hermitage, “Two miles from Veron towne, where he in prayers past forth his age; “Till that from earth to heaven his heavenly sprite did flye: “Fyve years he lived an hermite, and an hermite dyd he dye.” Boswell.

Note return to page 693 1&lblank; Juliet and her Romeo.] Shakspeare has not effected the alteration of this play by introducing any new incidents, but merely by adding to the length of the scenes. The piece appears to have been always a very popular one. Marston, in his Satires, 1598, says: “Luscus, what's play'd to-day?—faith, now I know “I set thy lips abroach, from whence doth flow “Nought but pure Juliet and Romeo.” Steevens. “For never was a story of more woe, “Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” These lines seem to have been formed on the concluding couplet of the poem of Romeus and Juliet: “&lblank; among the monuments that in Verona been, “There is no monument more worthy of the sight, “Then is the tombe of Juliet and Romeus her knight.” Malone.

Note return to page 694 2Exeunt.] This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy and various, the incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried on with such probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires. Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to represent the airy sprightliness of juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third Act, lest he should have been killed by him. Yet he thinks him no such formidable person, but that he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed, without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, in a pointed sentence, that more regard is commonly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom to be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gaiety, and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare to have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime. The Nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted: he has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest. His comick scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetick strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations. His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit* [Subnote: *This quotation is also found in the Preface to Dryden's Fables: “Just John Littlewit in Bartholomew Fair, who had a conceit (as he tells you) left him in his misery; a miserable conceit.” Steevens.] . Johnson.

Note return to page 695 I have mentioned that a play on this subject was written by Lopes de Vega. As the following synopsis of the plot of the Spanish play is of no great length, I have inserted it from Dr. Grey's notes on Shakespeare: “Extract from the Castelvins and Monteses, a Play of Lopes de Vega. “ACT I. “Though the whole first act passes in the city of Verona, yet there are several changes of decoration. The stage, during the first scene, represents a street, with the front of a beautiful palace, the residence of Antonio, chief of the Castelvins. “Anselm and Roselo, two young Gentlemen of the party of the Monteses, are discoursing of an entertainment given in the palace; a concert, and a masquerade; the violins are heard. Roselo shews a strong inclination to go in, and his friend dissuades him from it, by remonstrating the danger that such a rashness might bring him into, and the inexcusable crime it would appear to his father, from the hereditary hatred of their houses. “Roselo argues, That the union of a moment may perhaps happily cement the animosity of ages, which has been often near the ruin of the city: That the Monteses have been always famous for men of unconquerable valour; the Castelvins, for women of as uncommon beauty. “Lopes de Vega's expression in Spanish is, “‘Mugeres de tal belleza, que hurto la Naturaleza la estampa a los Serafines.’ “‘Women of such beauty, that Nature stole their model from the Seraphims.’ That he has an impulse not to be overcome, that urges him to believe 'tis his fate to put an end to these unhappy dissensions. “Anselm expostulates for some time, and at last yields with great difficulty to the caprice of Roselo. They determine to mask themselves, in order to go with more safety into the house of their enemy; and Marin, Roselo's valet, the buffoon of the play, trembles for his master's danger and his own, and concludes the scene with his burlesque terrors. “The scene changes to a fine garden. Some Gentlemen and Ladies seated, others walking, &c.; a band of music at the end of the stage. “Whilst the masks are dancing, Octavio (the son of Theobald) is making love to Julia (daughter to Antonio). The old men advance to the front of the stage, and testify the pleasure it would give them to unite their children. Things don't succeed just as they wish. Octavio loves Julia, but she dislikes him. “Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, join the company in disguise. The extreme beauty of Julia strikes Roselo immediately. He is lost in transport, and, in his disorder, he drops his mask. Antonio knows him that instant, and, with great indignation, whispers it to Theobald, who with difficulty persuades him not to infringe the laws of hospitality. During the dialogue, Julia and Roselo admire each other. By degrees the crowd and tumult of the assembly favour Roselo's addressing Julia. He declares his love; she listens to it without resentment. Octavio endeavours to disturb the conversation; but this does not prevent Julia from slipping a ring into Roselo's hand, and making an appointment for the following night in the garden. “The assembly breaks up, and all go off, except Julia, and Celia her confident; to whom she discovers what has passed. “The three or four following scenes pass alternately in the street, and in the house of Fabricio (Roselo's father), and are of no consequence to the subject of the play. At the close of night, the scene changes again to Antonio's garden, and Julia appears with Roselo, who has scaled the wall. This is a long scene, the most interesting of the whole, and concludes with her consenting to a private marriage. “ACT II. “The interval between the first and second act, is supposed to be taken up by the secret marriage of Roselo and Julia. Their happiness does not last long, without being interrupted by a most cruel accident. “All the Nobility of Verona are assembled, for a certain solemnity, in the great church. Dorothea, a Castelvin Lady (sister to Octavio, and daughter to Theobald), is insulted in this sacred place, and the insult is given by the servants of a Montese Lady. This insolence raises a great tumult in the church, and revives the animosity of the factions; but the Castelvins are obliged to give way to the greater number of their adversaries. “In the twelve first scenes, the decoration is a public square, at the end of which appears the front and gate of the church, where this adventure is supposed to happen. Fesennio (Theobald's servant) relates it to his master, who receives it with the utmost violence of temper, though before he had inclined to moderation. “Octavio enters, and is excited by his father to revenge Dorothea. They return into the church, to join their party. Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, enter, ignorant of what has passed. Whilst the two friends are conversing of Roselo's marriage and happiness, the church becomes a field of battle. The noise of swords and tumultuous cries are heard; and, soon after, the two parties rush in, in pursuit of their quarrel. Roselo endeavours to interpose; and after a long expostulation with Octavio, in which he proposes friendship in the kindest terms, and a double marriage (between himself and Julia; Octavio, and Dona Andrea, a Montese Lady), being insulted by Octavio, and obliged to defend himself, he at length kills him, and escapes. Maximilian, the Duke of Verona, comes too late to prevent the misfortune, and informs himself of the circumstances. All the depositions are favourable to Roselo, and acknowledge, that he did his utmost to appease the quarrel, and that Octavio forced him to defend his life. “Upon this the Prince, who esteems Roselo, and yet is unwilling to exasperate the Castelvins, as a medium, banishes him from Verona. “Roselo, then upon the point of leaving his Julia, runs all hazards to bid her farewell; and goes in the night, with Marin, to the garden, where they meet Julia and Celia; and, after a moving scene between the lovers, and a burlesque one between the confidents, they are surprised by the appearance of Antonio, and his domestics, armed, who were alarmed by a noise in the garden. Roselo and Marin escape unseen, and Julia says she came there to weep in solitude, for the unfortunate death of Octavio. Antonio applauds her humanity; and, to give her consolation, informs her of his design of marrying her to Count Paris, an amiable young Nobleman of great power. “This Count has already expressed a passion for Julia, and even demanded her in marriage; but the proposal had been waved in favour of Octavio. He is not then in Verona; Antonio therefore writes to him, and sends the letter by Fesennio. “This old servant of Theobald's finds Count Paris with Roselio at a magnificent country-seat, which makes the decoration of the three following scenes. Roselo, at his leaving the city, fell into an ambuscade, laid for him by the Castelvins, and was rescued by Paris, who has brought him to his house, and is offering to accompany him to the gates of Ferrara; when Fesennio interrupts their professions of friendship, by the delivery of the letter, which Paris imparts to Roselo. He, from the conclusion of the letter (which assures the Count of Julia's tenderness and affection for him), is seized by the most unaccountable jealousy and rage that is possible. The Count departs for Verona, assuring him, that, notwithstanding this alliance with the Castelvins, he shall always continue his friend; and Roselo remaining, concludes the act with a long soliloquy of rage and despair, which terminates in a resolution of endeavouring to shake off his passion for the unfaithful Julia, and fix his heart on some more worthy object at Ferrara. “ACT III. “During the interval between the second and third acts, the father of Julia has been attempting to force her to marry the Count: and his persecutions have been so violent, that, finding at length she shall be obliged to submit, she listens only to despair, and determines to die, rather than betray Roselo. “With this design she sends Celia to Aurelio (the priest who married her privately). He does not appear upon the stage, but is frequently mentioned. Profound learning, universal charity, and attention to the wants of the unhappy, are the distinguishing marks of his character. “Julia implores the assistance of this pious man, and informs him in her billet, that if he can find no method of preserving her from the misfortune she dreads, she shall escape from it by a voluntary death. “The beginning of the act supposes all that is here said, and the spectators are informed of it with great address. Julia and her father appear upon the stage, which represents a sallon. Antonio presses his daughter to the marriage; she excuses herself; he menaces her with his utmost indignation, and at last assures her, if she does not consent willingly, they shall find means to force her submission. “This severity constrains her to promise obedience, and her father leaves her to reflect upon her unhappy situation. Celia enters, as returned from Aurelio, and tells her, that, after showing great disorder and concern, he had retired for an hour; and then delivered her a vial for Julia to drink, which he told her he hoped would prevent all she feared. “After a moving scene of doubt, hopes, and fears, Julia drinks the composition; and immediately feeling the effects of it, imagines that by mistake, Aurelio has given her poison, and (as they both suppose) dies in the arms of Celia, recommending to her, if she ever saw Roselo, to tell him, she carried her tenderness for him to the grave, and died pronouncing his name; that she wished him to remember her with kindness, but not with pain; to be comforted, and to live happy. “The scene closes upon Julia, and her confident, and immediately changes to Ferrara. It represents a street, where two cavaliers, Ferdinand, and Rutilio, are giving a serenade to Silvia, a Lady of that city. She appears but once in the play, and that only at her window. “The persons in this scene, are entirely foreign to the subject of the play, and have not the least connexion with the Castelvins and Monteses. The author only introduces them to give Roselo an opportunity of endeavouring to revenge himself for the supposed infidelity of Julia, and the whole design is insipid and unnatural. “The day begins to dawn, Roselo comes in, and the two cavaliers and their men withdraw, without any reason, but the pleasure of the author. The young Montese makes love to Silvia, but in a way and manner, that shews his heart is full of another object, and that Julia is still the mistress of it, notwithstanding all his resolutions. “Anselm, who is come to Ferrara in search of Roselo, meets him in the street; Silvia shuts her window, and disappears. Roselo learns from Anselm what has passed: he shivers with horror, his eyes are opened, he sees how wrongfully he suspected her fidelity, and breaks out into the most moving complaints; when Anselm comforts him, by informing him of the secret of the draught, and telling him he must immediately return to Verona, and deliver her from the vault, where she was laid. “Upon this detail, which in the original is very long, Roselo begins to breathe. His hopes however are intermixed with fears; he dreads arriving too late; that Julia, awakening in that dreadful place, should die with horror, or faint away, and expire in the midst of that profound sleep: he departs immediately for Verona; Marin follows him with great regret; and, upon Anselm's describing the dreadfulness of the vault, declares he hates keeping company with the dead; and that when his master pays them a visit, he thinks it his duty to wait only at the door. “A change of scene brings the spectator back again to Verona, and to the palace of the Duke. Count Paris is there in mourning, regretting Julia, and the Duke endeavours in vain to console him. Antonio comes in, sensibly touched at the fate of his daughter: but having no heir, Maximilian proposes to him, his marrying Dorothea, his nearest relation, to hinder the great treasures he possesses, from being dispersed into different families; and he consents to it. “A new scene then appears; the family-vault of the Castelvins, surrounded with objects too melancholy for any theatre but the Spanish. Julia awakens: her amazement, her terror, her love, and surprise, furnish her in that dreadful darkness with a beautiful soliloquy, at the close of which Roselo enters. Their re-union is accompanied with the most tender, and moving sentiments. “They escape happily out of Verona; and not knowing where to conceal themselves, take refuge in a castle belonging to Julia's father, but where he never came. There the last scenes pass. “Julia, Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, are disguised like peasants. Their design is, to stay a day or two in the castle, till they find a convenience to go off; but fortune decides it otherwise. “Antonio repairs to this castle, to celebrate his marriage with Dorothea; Theobald (her father), and several other Castelvin noblemen, accompany them. Their arrival obliges Roselo and his party to conceal themselves in different parts of the castle; the keeper does not know them, but their behaviour and liberality engage him to secresy. “As Julia is concealed close to the room her father is in, she hears him alone, lamenting her destiny. She speaks to him; he, in the greatest horror, imagines it her shade; and this odd conversation brings on the catastrophe.—She reproaches him with the cruelty that brought on her fate, and offers to appear before him in the shape she bore since their separation. He declines it with terror, and endeavours to excuse his severity by the worth of the Count. She confesses the merit of Paris; but owns she had been privately married two months before, to a husband, whom envy itself could not blame; that she knew the fierceness of his nature could not bear the confession, and therefore sacrificed her life to preserve her fidelity to him she had chose; that all she now begged, was his solemn promise he would never conspire the ruin of this unknown son-in-law, but cherish and esteem him, as if he had been his own choice; that this was all the atonement he could now make, and without which she should incessantly disturb him. “He promises it, and asks his name; when she tells him, 'tis Roselo, the head of the Monteses, and that heaven had raised him up to put an end to those discords which destroyed their country: he seems shocked at first, but soon melts into grief and tenderness, and attests heaven that he will always preserve the sentiments of a father for Roselo. “During this scene, Theobald, and the other Castelvins, having discovered Roselo, Anselm, and Marin, bring them all bound upon the stage, and deliberate upon the kind of death they shall make them suffer. “In this conjuncture, Antonio, out of regard to his promise, and compunction for his fault, discovers what has passed, and embraces Roselo. At first they imagine his brain disordered, but by degrees he soothes them into moderation; and Count Paris, who is present, out of generosity joins with him, and conduces to bring 'em to a reconciliation. “To render this sudden conversion more lasting, they determine to cement the peace by the marriage of Dorothea and Roselo. Julia, who hears all, suddenly appears. Their first terror at the sight, is turned into joy and surprise, when they find she is alive; and when they are informed that Roselo delivered her from the arms of death, they judge him to have a lawful claim to her. Their union is ratified; Anselm marries the daughter of Theobald; and Marin (the Gracioso) receives the hand of Celia, with a thousand ducats from Antonio and Roselo. “The End of the Play.”

Note return to page 696 *&lblank; the hearers hart can gesse.] From these words it should seem that this poem was formerly sung or recited to casual passengers in the streets. See also p. 287, l. 17: “If any man be here, whom love hath clad with care, “To him I speak; if thou wilt speed,” &c. Malone. In former days, when the faculty of reading was by no means so general as at present, it must have been no unfrequent practice for those who did not possess this accomplishment to gratify their curiosity by listening while some better educated person read aloud. It is, I think, scarcely probable, that a poem of the length of this Tragicall Hystory should be sung or recited in the streets: And Sir John Maundevile, at the close of his work, intreats “alle the Rederes and Hereres of his boke, zif it plese hem that thei wolde preyen to God,” &c.—p. 383, 8vo. edit. 1727. By hereres of his boke he unquestionably intended hearers in the sense I have suggested. Holt White.

Note return to page 697 *In the original Italian Novel Juliet awakes from her trance before the death of Romeo. Shakspeare has been arraigned for departing from it, and losing so happy an opportunity of introducing an affecting scene. He was misled, we see, by the piece now before us. The curious reader may perhaps not be displeased to compare the conclusion of this celebrated story as it stands in the Giulietta of Luigi da Porto, with the present poem. It is as follows: “So favourable was fortune to this his last purpose, that on the evening of the day subsequent to the lady's funeral, undiscovered by any, he entered Verona, and there awaited the coming of night; and now perceiving that all was silent, he betook himself to the monastery of the Minor Friars, where was the vault. The church, where these monks then dwelt, was in the citadel, though since, for what reason I know not, they have transferred their habitation to the Borgo di S. Zeno, in that place which is now called Santo Bernardino; yet it is certain that their former mansion had been inhabited by Saint Francis himself. Near the walls of this church, on the outside, were at that time certain buildings, such as we usually see adjoining to churches, one of which was the ancient sepulcher of the Capelletti family, and in this the fair damsel had been deposited. At this place, about four hours after midnight, Romeo being arrived, and having, as a man of superior strength, by force raised the stone which covered the vault, and, with certain wedges, which he had brought with him for that purpose, having so prop'd it that it could not be fastened down contrary to his desire, he entered, and reclosed the entrance. “The unhappy youth, that he might behold his lady, had brought with him a dark lantern, which, after closing the vault, he drew forth, and opened; and there, amidst the bones and fragments of many dead bodies, he beheld the fair Julietta lying as if dead. Whence suddenly breaking out into a flood of tears, he thus began: O eyes, which, while it pleased the Heavens, were to my eyes the brightest lights! O lips, by me a thousand times so sweetly kissed, and from whence were heard the words of wisdom! O beauteous breast, in which my heart rejoiced to dwell! where do I now find you, blind, mute, and cold? how without you do I see, do I speak, do I live? Alas, my miserable lady, whither hast thou been conducted by that love, whose will it now is that this narrow space shall both destroy and lodge two wretched lovers! Ah me! an end like this my hope promised not, nor that desire which first inflamed me with love for you! O unfortunate life, why do I support you? and so saying, he covered with kisses her eyes, her lips, her breast, bursting every instant into more abundant lamentation; in the midst of which he cried, O ye walls, which hang over me, why do you not render my life still more short by crushing me in your ruin? But since death is at all times in our power, it is dastardly to desire it, and not to snatch it: and, with these words, he drew forth from his sleeve the vial of deadly poison, which he had there concealed, and thus proceeded: I know not what destiny conducts me to die in the midst of my enemies, of those by me slain, and in their sepulcher; but since, O my soul, thus near my love it delights us to die, here let us die! and, approaching to his lips the mortal draught, he received it entire into his bosom; when embracing the beloved maid, and strongly straining her to his breast, he cried—O thou beauteous body, the utmost limit of all my desires, if, after the soul is departed, any sentiment yet remains in you, or, if that soul now beholds my cruel fate, let it not be displeasing to you, that, unable to live with you joyfully and openly, at the least I should die with you sadly and secretly;—and holding the body straitly embraced, he awaited death. “The hour was now arrived, when by the natural heat of the damsel the cold and powerful effects of the powder should have been overcome, and when she should awake; and accordingly, embraced and violently agitated by Romeo, she awoke in his arms, and, starting into life, after a heavy sigh, she cried, Alas, where am I? who is it thus embraces me? by whom am I thus kissed? and, believing it was the Friar Lorenzo, she exclaimed, Do you thus, O friar, keep your faith with Romeo? is it thus you safely conduct me to him? Romeo, perceiving the lady to be alive, wondered exceedingly, and thinking perhaps on Pigmalion, he said, Do you not know me, O my sweet lady? see you not that I am your wretched spouse, secretly and alone come from Mantua to perish by you? Julietta, seeing herself in the monument, and perceiving that she was in the arms of one who called himself Romeo, was well nigh out of her senses, and pushing him a little from her, and gazing on his face, she instantly knew him, and embracing gave him a thousand kisses, saying, What folly has excited you, with such imminent danger, to enter here? Was it not sufficient to have understood by my letters how I had contrived, with the help of Friar Lorenzo, to feign death, and that I should shortly have been with you? The unhappy youth, then perceiving this fatal mistake, thus began: O miserable lot! O wretched Romeo! O, by far the most afflicted of all lovers! On this subject never have I received your letters! and he then proceeded to inform her how Pietro had given him intelligence of her pretended death, as if it had been real, whence, believing her dead, he had, in order to accompany her in death, even there close by her, taken the poison, which, as most subtile, he already felt, had sent forth death through all his limbs. “The unfortunate damsel hearing this, remained so overpowered with grief, that she could do nothing but tear her lovely locks, and beat and bruise her innocent breast; and at length to Romeo, who already lay supine, kissing him often, and pouring over him a flood of tears, more pale than ashes, and trembling all over, she thus spoke: Must you then, O, lord of my heart, must you then die in my presence, and through my means! and will the heavens permit that I should survive you, though but for a moment? Wretched me! O, that I could at least transfer my life to you, and die alone!—to which, with a languid voice, the youth replied: If ever my faith and my love were dear to you, live, O my best hope! by these I conjure you, that after my death, life should not be displeasing to you, if for no other reason, at least that you may think on him, who, penetrated with passion, for your sake, and before your dear eyes, now perishes! To this the damsel answered: If for my pretended death you now die, what ought I to do for yours which is real? It only grieves me that here, in your presence, I have not the means of death, and, inasmuch as I survive you, I detest myself! yet still will I hope that ere long, as I have been the cause, so shall I be the companion of your death: And, having with difficulty spoken these words, she fainted, and, again returning to life, busied herself in sad endeavours to gather with her sweet lips the extreme breath of her dearest lover, who now hastily approached his end. “In this interval Friar Lorenzo had been informed how and when the damsel had drunk the potion, as also that upon a supposition of her death she had been buried; and, knowing that the time was now arrived when the powder should cease to operate, taking with him a trusty companion, about an hour before day he came to the vault; where being arrived, he heard the cries and lamentations of the lady, and, through a crevice in the cover, seeing a light within, he was greatly surprised, and imagined that, by some means or other, the damsel had contrived to convey with her a lamp into the tomb; and that now, having awaked, she wept and lamented, either through fear of the dead bodies by which she was surrounded, or perhaps from the apprehension of being for ever immured in this dismal place; and having, with the assistance of his companion, speedily opened the tomb, he beheld Julietta, who, with hair all disheveled, and sadly grieving, had raised herself so far as to be seated, and had taken into her lap her dying lover. To her he thus addressed himself: Did you then fear, O my daughter, that I should have left you to die here inclosed? and she, seeing the friar, and redoubling her lamentations, answered: Far from it; my only fear is that you will drag me hence alive!—alas, for the love of God, away, and close the sepulcher, that I may here perish,—or rather reach me a knife, that piercing my breast, I may rid myself of my woes! O, my father, my father! is it thus you have sent me the letter? are these my hopes of happy marriage? is it thus you have conducted me to my Romeo? behold him here in my bosom already dead!—and, pointing to him, she recounted all that had passed. The friar, hearing these things, stood as one bereft of sense, and gazing upon the young man, then ready to pass from this into another life, bitterly weeping, he called to him, saying, O, Romeo, what hard hap has torn you from me? speak to me at least! cast your eyes a moment upon me! O, Romeo, behold your dearest Julietta, who beseeches you to look at her. Why at the least will you not answer her in whose dear bosom you lie? At the beloved name of his mistress, Romeo raised a little his languid eyes, weighed down by the near approach of death, and, looking at her, reclosed them; and, immediately after, death thrilling through his whole frame, all convulsed, and leaving a short sigh, he expired. “The miserable lover being now dead in the manner I have related, as the day was already approaching, after much lamentation the friar thus addressed the young damsel:—And you Julietta, what do you mean to do?—to which she instantly replied, —here inclosed will I die. Say not so, daughter, said he; come forth from hence; for, though I know not well how to dispose of you, the means can not be wanting of shutting yourself up in some holy monastery, where you may continually offer your supplications to God, as well for yourself as for your deceased husband, if he should need your prayers. Father, replied the lady, one favour alone I entreat of you, which for the love you bear to the memory of him,—and so saying she pointed to Romeo,—you will willingly grant me, and that is, that you will never make known our death, that so our bodies may for ever remain united in this sepulcher: and if, by any accident, the manner of our dying should be discovered, by the love already mentioned I conjure you, that in both our names you would implore our miserable parents that they should make no difficulty of suffering those whom love has consumed in one fire, and conducted to one death, to remain in one and the same tomb;—then turning to the prostrate body of Romeo, whose head she had placed on a pillow which had been left with her in the vault, having carefully closed his eyes, and bathing his cold visage with tears,—lord of my heart, said she, without you what should I do with life? and what more remains to be done by me toward you but to follow you in death? certainly nothing more! in order that death itself, which alone could possibly have separated you from me, should not now be able to part us!—and having thus spoken, reflecting upon the horrour of her destiny, and calling to mind the loss of her dear lover, determined no longer to live, she suppressed her respiration, and for a long space holding in her breath, at length sent it forth with a loud cry. and fell dead upon the dead body.” For the foregoing faithful and elegant translation, as well as that in a former page, I am indebted to a most dear and valued friend, whose knowledge of the Italian language is so much superior to any that I can pretend to, that I am confident no reader will regret that the task has been executed by another. Malone.

Note return to page 698 *Breval says, in his Travels, 1726, that when he was at Verona, his guide shewed him an old building, then converted into a house for orphans, in which the tomb of these unhappy lovers had been; but it was then destroyed. Malone.

Note return to page 699 The list of the persons being omitted in the old editions, was added by Mr. Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 700 1As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand crowns; &c.] The grammar, as well as sense, suffers cruelly by this reading. There are two nominatives to the verb bequeathed, and not so much as one to the verb charged: and yet, to the nominative there wanted, [his blessing,] refers. So that the whole sentence is confused and obscure. A very small alteration in the reading and pointing sets all right,—As I remember, Adam, it was upon this my father bequeathed me, &c. The grammar is now rectified, and the sense also; which is this. Orlando and Adam were discoursing together on the cause why the younger brother had but a thousand crowns left him. They agree upon it; and Orlando opens the scene in this manner—As I remember, it was upon this, i. e. for the reason we have been talking of, that my father left me but a thousands crowns; however, to make amends for this scanty provision, he charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well. Warburton. There is, in my opinion, nothing but a point misplaced, and an omission of a word which every hearer can supply, and which therefore an abrupt and eager dialogue naturally excludes. I read thus: As I remember, Adam, it was on this fashion bequeathed me. By will, but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well. What is there in this difficult or obscure? The nominative my father is certainly left out, but so left out that the auditor inserts it, in spite of himself. Johnson. “&lblank; it was on this fashion bequeathed me,” as Dr. Johnson reads, is but aukward English. I would read: As I remember, Adam, it was on this fashion.—He bequeathed me by will, &c. Orlando and Adam enter abruptly in the midst of a conversation on this topick; and Orlando is correcting some misapprehension of the other. As I remember (says he) it was thus. He left me a thousand crowns; and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, &c. Blackstone. Omission being of all the errors of the press the most common, I have adopted the emendation proposed by Sir W. Blackstone. Malone. Being satisfied with Dr. Johnson's explanation of the passage as it stands in the old copy, I have followed it. Steevens.

Note return to page 701 2&lblank; stays me here at home unkept:] We should read stys, i. e. keeps me like a brute. The following words—“for call you that keeping—that differs not from the stalling of an ox?” confirms this emendation. So, Caliban says— “And here you sty me “In this hard rock.” Warburton. Sties is better than stays, and more likely to be Shakspeare's. Johnson. So, in Noah's Flood, by Drayton: “And sty themselves up in a little room.” Steevens.

Note return to page 702 3&lblank; his countenance seems to take from me:] We should certainly read—his discountenance. Warburton. There is no need of change; a countenance is either good or bad. Johnson.

Note return to page 703 4&lblank; what make you here?] i. e. what do you here? So, in Hamlet: “What make you at Elsinour?” Steevens.

Note return to page 704 5&lblank; be better employ'd, and be naught awhile.] Mr. Theobald has here a very critical note; which, though his modesty suffered him to withdraw it from his second edition, deserves to be perpetuated, i. e. (says he) “be better employed, in my opinion, in being and doing nothing. Your idleness, as you call it, may be an exercise by which you make a figure, and endear yourself to the world: and I had rather you were a contemptible cypher. The poet seems to me to have that trite proverbial sentiment in his eye, quoted from Attilius, by the younger Pliny and others: satius est otiosum esse quàm nihil agere. But Oliver, in the perverseness of his disposition, would reverse the doctrine of the proverb.” Does the reader know what all this means? But 'tis no matter. I will assure him—be nought awhile is only a north-country proverbial curse equivalent to, a mischief on you. So, the old poet Skelton: “Correct first thy selfe, walk and be nought, “Deeme what thou list, thou knowest not my thought.” But what the Oxford editor could not explain, he would amend, and reads: “&lblank; and do aught awhile.” Warburton. If be nought awhile has the signification here given it, the reading may certainly stand; but till I learned its meaning from this note, I read: Be better employed, and be naught awhile. In the same sense as we say—It is better to do mischief, than to do nothing. Johnson. Notwithstanding Dr. Warburton's far-fetched explanation, I believe that the words be naught awhile, mean no more than this: “Be content to be a cypher, till I shall think fit to elevate you into consequence.” This was certainly a proverbial saying. I find it in The Storie of King Darius, an interlude, 1565: “Come away, and be nought awhyle, “Or surely I will you both defyle.” Again, in King Henry IV. P. II. Falstaff says to Pistol: “Nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.” Steevens. Naught and nought are frequently confounded in old English books. I once thought that the latter was here intended, in the sense affixed to it by Mr. Steevens: “Be content to be a cypher, till I shall elevate you into consequence.” But the following passage in Swetnam, a comedy, 1620, induces me to think that the reading of the old copy (naught) and Dr. Johnson's explanation are right: “&lblank; get you both in, and be naught a while.” The speaker is a chamber-maid, and she addresses herself to her mistress and her lover. Malone. Malone says that nought (meaning nothing) was formerly spelled with an a, naught; which is clearly the manner in which it ought still to be spelled, as the word aught, (any thing,) from whence it is derived, is spelled so. A similar expression occurs in Bartholomew Fair, where Ursula says to Mooncalf: “Leave the bottle behind you, and be curs'd awhile;” which seems to confirm Warburton's explanation. M. Mason.

Note return to page 705 6Ay, better than him I am before knows me.] Mr. Pope and the subsequent editors read—than he I am before: more correctly, but without authority. Malone. The first folio reads—better than him—. But, little respect is due to the anomalies of the play-house editors; and of this comedy there is no quarto edition. Steevens.

Note return to page 706 7&lblank; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.] This is sense indeed, and may be thus understood. —The reverence due to my father is, in some degree, derived to you, as the first-born. But I am persuaded that Orlando did not here mean to compliment his brother, or condemn himself; something of both which there is in that sense. I rather think he intended a satirical reflection on his brother, who by letting him feed with his hinds, treated him as one not so nearly related to old Sir Rowland as himself was. I imagine therefore Shakspeare might write—Albeit your coming before me is nearer his revenue, i. e. though you are no nearer in blood, yet it must be owned, indeed, you are nearer in estate. Warburton. This, I apprehend, refers to the courtesy of distinguishing the eldest son of a knight, by the title of esquire. Henley.

Note return to page 707 8I am no villain:] The word villain is used by the elder brother, in its present meaning, for a worthless, wicked, or bloody man; by Orlando, in its original signification, for a fellow of base extraction. Johnson.

Note return to page 708 9&lblank; good leave &lblank;] As often as this phrase occurs, it means a ready assent. So, in King John: “Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? “Gur. Good leave, good Philip.” Steevens.

Note return to page 709 1&lblank; the duke's daughter,] The words old and new [inserted by Sir T. Hanmer] seem necessary to the perspicuity of the dialogue. Johnson. “&lblank; the duke's daughter,” i. e. the banished duke's daughter. Malone.

Note return to page 710 2&lblank; for the duke's daughter,] i.e. the usurping duke's daughter. Sir T. Hanmer reads here—the new duke's; and in the preceding speech—the old duke's daughter; but in my opinion unnecessarily. The ambiguous use of the word duke in these passages is much in our author's manner. Malone. The author of The Revisal is of opinion, that the subsequent words—her cousin, sufficiently distinguish the person intended. Steevens.

Note return to page 711 3&lblank; in the forest of Arden,] Ardenne is a forest of considerable extent in French Flanders, lying near the Meuse, and between Charlemont and Rocroy. It is mentioned by Spenser, in his Colin Clout's Come Home Again, 1595: “Into a forest wide and waste he came, “Where store he heard to be of savage prey; “So wide a forest, and so waste as this, “Not famous Ardeyn, nor foul Arlo is.” But our author was furnished with the scene of his play by Lodge's Novel. Malone.

Note return to page 712 4&lblank; this gamester:] Gamester, in the present instance, and some others, does not signify a man viciously addicted to games of chance, but a frolicksome person. Thus, in King Henry VIII.: “You are a merry gamester, my lord Sands.” Steevens.

Note return to page 713 5&lblank; of all sorts &lblank;] Sorts, in this place, means ranks and degrees of men. Ritson.

Note return to page 714 6&lblank; kindle the boy thither,] A similar phrase occurs in Macbeth, Act I. Sc. III.: “&lblank; enkindle you unto the crown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 715 7&lblank; I were merrier?] I, which was inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was inserted by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 716 8&lblank; mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel,] The wheel of Fortune is not the wheel of a housewife. Shakspeare has confounded Fortune, whose wheel only figures uncertainty and vicissitude, with the Destiny that spins the thread of life, though not indeed with a wheel. Johnson. Shakspeare is very fond of this idea. He has the same in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; and rail so high, “That the false housewife, Fortune, break her wheel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 717 9&lblank; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent, &c.] And is not in the old copy. This slight emendation is the present editor's. Mr. Steevens reads,— who perceiving our natural wits, &c hath sent. Malone.

Note return to page 718 1For he never had any;] The same joke is found in the old play of Damon and Pithias, 1573: “I have taken a wise othe on him; have I not, trow ye, “To trust such a false knave upon his honestie? “As he is an honest man (quoth you?) he may bewray all to the kinge, “And breke his oth for this never a whit.” Boswell.

Note return to page 719 2Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Ros. My father's love is enough to honour him.] This reply to the Clown is in all the books placed to Rosalind; but Frederick was not her father, but Celia's: I have therefore ventured to prefix the name of Celia. There is no countenance from any passage in this play, or from the Dramatis Personæ, to imagine, that both the Brother-Dukes were namesakes; and one called the Old, and the other the Younger-Frederick; and without some such authority, it would make confusion to suppose it. Theobald. Mr. Theobald seems not to know that the Dramatis Personæ were first enumerated by Rowe. Johnson. Frederick is here clearly a mistake, as appears by the answer of Rosalind, to whom Touchstone addresses himself, though the question was put to him by Celia. I suppose some abbreviation was used in the MS. for the name of the rightful, or old duke, as he is called, [perhaps Fer. for Ferdinand,] which the transcriber or printer converted into Frederick. Fernardyne is one of the persons introduced in the novel on which this comedy is founded. Mr. Theobald solves the difficulty by giving the next speech to Celia, instead of Rosalind; but there is too much of filial warmth in it for Celia:—besides, why should her father be called old Frederick? It appears from the last scene of this play that this was the name of the younger brother. Malone. Mr. Malone's remark may be just; and yet I think the speech which I have still left in the mouth of Celia, exhibits as much tenderness for the fool, as respect for her own father. She stops Touchstone, who might otherwise have proceeded to say what she could not hear without inflicting punishment on the speaker. Old is an unmeaning term of familiarity. It is still in use, and has no reference to age. The Duke in Measure for Measure is called by Lucio “the old fantastical Duke,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 720 3&lblank; you'll be whip'd for taxation,] This was the discipline usually inflicted upon fools. Brantome informs us that Legar, fool to Elizabeth of France, having offended her with some indelicate speech, “fut bien föuetté à la cuisine pour ces paroles.” Douce. Taxation is censure or satire. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “Niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much: but he'll be meet with you.” Again, in the play before us: “&lblank; my taxing like a wildgoose flies &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 721 3&lblank; since the little wit, that fools have, was silenced,] Shakspeare probably alludes to the use of fools or jesters, who for some ages had been allowed in all courts an unbridled liberty of censure and mockery, and about this time began to be less tolerated. Johnson.

Note return to page 722 4&lblank; laid on with a trowel.] I suppose the meaning is, that there is too heavy a mass of big words laid upon a slight subject. Johnson. This is a proverbial expression, which is generally used to signify a glaring falshood. See Ray's Proverbs. Steevens. It means a good round hit, thrown in without judgment or design. Ritson. To lay on with a trowel, is, to do any thing strongly, and without delicacy. If a man flatters grossly, it is a common expression to say, that he lays it on with a trowel. M. Mason.

Note return to page 723 5You amaze me, ladies:] To amaze, here, is not to astonish or strike with wonder, but to perplex; to confuse, so as to put out of the intended narrative. Johnson. So, in Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. III.: “I am amazed with matter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 724 6With bills on their necks,—Be it known unto all men by these presents, &lblank;] The ladies and the fool, according to the mode of wit at that time, are at a kind of cross purposes. Where the words of one speaker are wrested by another, in a repartee, to a different meaning. As where the Clown says just before—Nay, if I keep not my rank. Rosalind replies—Thou losest thy old smell. So here when Rosalind had said—With bills on their necks, the Clown, to be quits with her, puts in—Know all men by these presents. She spoke of an instrument of war, and he turns it to an instrument of law of the same name, beginning with these words: So that they must be given to him. Warburton. This conjecture is ingenious. Where meaning is so very thin, as in this vein of jocularity, it is hard to catch, and therefore I know not well what to determine; but I cannot see why Rosalind should suppose, that the competitors in a wrestling match carried bills on their shoulders, and I believe the whole conceit is in the poor resemblance of presence and presents. Johnson. “With bills on their necks,” should be the conclusion of Le Beau's speech. Mr. Edwards ridicules Dr. Warburton, “As if people carried such instruments of war, as bills and guns on their necks, not on their shoulders!” But unluckily the ridicule falls upon himself. Lassels, in his Voyage of Italy, says of tutors, “Some persuade their pupils, that it is fine carrying a gun upon their necks.” But what is still more, the expression is taken immediately from Lodge, who furnished our author with his plot. “Ganimede on a day sitting with Aliena, (the assumed names, as in the play,) cast up her eye, and saw where Rosader came pacing towards them with his forest-bill on his necke.” Farmer. The quibble may be countenanced by the following passage in Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “Good-morrow, taylor, I abhor bills in a morning— “But thou may'st watch at night with bill in hand.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, Book I.: “&lblank; with a sword by his side, a forest-bille on his necke,” &c. Again, in Rowley's When You See Me You Know Me, 1621: “Enter King, and Compton, with bills on his back.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “And each of you a good bat on his neck.” Again: “&lblank; are you not big enough to bear “Your bats upon your necks?” Steevens. I don't think that by bill is meant either an instrument of war, or one of law, but merely a label or advertisement—as we say a play-bill, a hand-bill; unless Farmer's ingenious amendment be admitted, and these words become part of Le Beau's speech; in which case the word bill would be used by him to denote a weapon, and by Rosalind perverted to mean a label. M. Mason.

Note return to page 725 7&lblank; is there any else longs to see this broken musick in his sides?] A stupid error in the copies. They are talking here of some who had their ribs broke in wrestling: and the pleasantry of Rosalind's repartee must consist in the allusion she makes to composing in musick. It necessarily follows, therefore, that the poet wrote—set this broken musick in his sides. Warburton. If any change were necessary, I should write, feel this broken musick, for see. But see is the colloquial term for perception or experiment. So we say every day; see if the water be hot; I will see which is the best time: she has tried, and sees that she cannot lift it. In this sense see may be here used. The sufferer can, with no propriety, be said to set the musick; neither is the allusion to the act of tuning an instrument, or pricking a tune, one of which must be meant by setting musick. Rosalind hints at a whimsical similitude between the series of ribs gradually shortening, and some musical instruments, and therefore calls broken ribs, broken musick. Johnson. This probably alludes to the pipe of Pan, which consisting of reeds of unequal length, and gradually lessening, bore some resemblance to the ribs of a man. M. Mason. Broken musick either means the noise which the breaking of ribs would occasion, or the hollow sound which proceeds from a person's receiving a violent fall. Douce. I can offer no legitimate explanation of this passage, but may observe that another, somewhat parallel, occurs in K. Henry V.: “Come, your answer in broken musick; for thy voice is musick, and thy English broken.” Steevens.

Note return to page 726 8&lblank; odds in the men:] Sir T. Hanmer. In the old editions, the man. Johnson.

Note return to page 727 9&lblank; the princesses call for you,] The old copy reads—the princesse calls. Corrected by Mr. Theobald. Malone. The old copy, I think, is right; it is Celia alone who directs Le Beau to call him. Boswell.

Note return to page 728 1&lblank; have you challenged Charles the wrestler?] This wrestling match is minutely described in Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592. Malone.

Note return to page 729 2&lblank; if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment,] Absurd! The sense requires that we should read,—our eyes, and—our judgment. The argument is,—Your spirits are too bold, and therefore your judgment deceives you; but did you see and know yourself with our more impartial judgment, you would forbear, Warburton. I cannot find the absurdity of the present reading. If you were not blinded and intoxicated, (says the princess,) with the spirit of enterprise, if you could use your own eyes to see, or your own judgment to know yourself, the fear of your adventure would counsel you. Johnson.

Note return to page 730 3I beseech you, punish me not, &c.] I should wish to read,— I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts. Therein I confess myself much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. Johnson. As the word wherein must always refer to something preceding, I have no doubt but there is an error in this passage, and that we ought to reed herein, instead of wherein. The hard thoughts that he complains of are the apprehensions expressed by the ladies of his not being able to contend with the wrestler. He beseeches that they will not punish him with them; and then adds, “Herein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial.” M. Mason. The meaning, I think, is,—Punish me not with your unfavourable opinion (of my abilities); which, however, I confess, I deserve to incur, for denying such fair ladies any request. The expression is licentious,but our author's plays furnish many such. Malone.

Note return to page 731 4&lblank; let your &lblank; gentle wishes, go with me to my trial:] Addison might have had this passage in his memory, when he put the following words into Juba's mouth: “&lblank; Marcia, may I hope “That thy kind wishes follow me to battle?” Steevens.

Note return to page 732 5His youngest son;] The words “than to be descended from any other house, however high,” must be understood. Orlando is replying to the duke, who is just gone out, and had said— “Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this deed, “Hadst thou descended from another house.” Malone.

Note return to page 733 6&lblank; that calling,] i. e. appellation; a very unusual, if not unprecedented sense of the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 734 7&lblank; as you have exceeded promise,] The old copy, without regard to the measure, reads—all promise. Steevens.

Note return to page 735 8&lblank; one out of suits with fortune;] This seems an allusion to cards where he that has no more cards to play of any particular sort, is out of suit. Johnson. Out of suits with fortune, I believe, means, turned out of her service, and stripped of her livery. Steevens. So afterwards Celia says, “&lblank; but turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest.” Malone.

Note return to page 736 9Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.] A quintain was a post or butt set up for several kinds of martial exercises, against which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. The allusion is beautiful. “I am, says Orlando, only a quintain, a lifeless block on which love only exercises his arms in jest; the great disparity of condition between Rosalind and me, not suffering me to hope that love will ever make a serious matter of it.” The famous satirist Regnier, who lived about the time of our author, uses the same metaphor, on the same subject, though the thought be different: “Et qui depuis dix ans jusqu'en ses derniers jours, “A soutenu le prix en l' escrime d' amours; “Lasse en fin de servir au peuple de quintaine, “Elle,” &c. Warburton. This is but an imperfect (to call it no worse) explanation of a beautiful passage. The quintain was not the object of the darts and arms: it was a stake driven into a field, upon which were hung a shield and other trophies of war, at which they shot, darted, or rode, with a lance, When the shield and the trophies were all thrown down, the quintain remained. Without this information how could the reader understand the allusion of— “&lblank; My better parts “Are all thrown down?” Guthrie. Mr. Malone has disputed the propriety of Mr. Guthrie's animadversions; and Mr. Douce is equally dissatisfied with those of Mr. Malone. The phalanx of our auxiliaries, as well as their circumstantiality, is so much increased, that we are often led (as Hamlet observes) to “&lblank; fight for a spot “Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause.” The present strictures, therefore, of Mr. Malone and Mr. Douce, (which are too valuable to be omitted, and too ample to find their place under the text of our author,) must appear at the conclusion of the play. Steevens.. For a more particular description of a quintain, see a note on a passage in Jonson's Underwoods, Whalley's edit, vol. vii. p. 55. M. Mason. A humorous description of this amusement may also be read in Laneham's Letter from “Killingwoorth Castle.” Henley.

Note return to page 737 1&lblank; the duke's condition,] The word condition means character, temper, disposition. So, Antonio, the merchant of Venice, is called by his friend the best condition'd man. Johnson.

Note return to page 738 2&lblank; than me to speak of.] The old copy has—than I. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 739 3&lblank; the shorter &lblank;] Thus Mr. Pope. The old copy reads— the taller. Mr. Malone—the smaller. Steevens. Some change is absolutely necessary; for Rosalind, in a subsequent scene, expressly says that she is “more than common tall,” and assigns that as a reason for her assuming the dress of a man, while her cousin Celia retained her female apparel. Again, in Act IV. Sc. III. Celia is described by these words— “the woman low, and browner than her brother;” i. e. Rosalind. Mr. Pope reads—“the shorter is his daughter;” which has been admitted in all the subsequent editions: but surely shorter and taller could never have been confounded by either the eye or the ear. The present emendation, it is hoped, has a preferable claim to a place in the text, as being much nearer to the corrupted reading. Malone. Shakspeare sometimes speaks of little women, but I do not recollect that he, or any other writer, has mentioned small ones. Otherwise, Mr. Malone's conjecture should have found a place in our text. Steevens. Small is used to express lowness of stature in Greene's James IV: “But my small son made prettie hansome shift, “To save the queene his mistresse by his speed.” Malone.

Note return to page 740 4&lblank; in a better world than this,] So, in Coriolanus, Act III. Sc. III.: “There is a world elsewhere.” Steevens.

Note return to page 741 5&lblank; for my child's father:] i. e. for him whom I hope to marry, and have children by. Theobald.

Note return to page 742 6By this kind of chase,] That is, by this way of following the argument. Dear is used by Shakspeare in a double sense for beloved, and for hurtful, hated, baleful. Both senses are authorised, and both drawn from etymology; but properly, beloved is dear, and hateful is dere. Rosalind uses dearly in the good, and Celia in the bad sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 743 7Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?] Celia answers Rosalind, (who had desired her “not to hate Orlando, for her sake,”) as if she had said—“love him, for my sake:” to which the former replies, “Why should I not [i. e. love him]?” So, in the following passage, in King Henry VIII: “&lblank; Which of the peers “Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least “Strangely neglected?” Uncontemn'd must be understood as if the author had written— not contemn'd; otherwise the subsequent words would convey a meaning directly contrary to what the speaker intends. Malone.

Note return to page 744 8&lblank; remorse;] i. e. compassion. So, in Macbeth: “Stop the access and passage to remorse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 745 9&lblank; we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;] Youthful friendship is described in nearly the same terms in a book published the year in which this play first appeared in print:— “They ever went together, plaid together, eate together, and usually slept together, out of the great love that was between them.” Life of Guzman de Alfarache, folio, printed by Edward Blount, 1623, p. i. b. i. c. viii. p. 75. Reed.

Note return to page 746 1And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous,] When she was seen alone, she would be more noted. Johnson.

Note return to page 747 2Thou hast not, cousin;] Some word is wanting to the metre. Perhaps our author wrote: Indeed, thou hast not, cousin. Steevens.

Note return to page 748 3&lblank; Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:] The poet certainly wrote—which teacheth me. For if Rosalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, she could not lack that love which Celia complains she does. Warburton. Either reading may stand. The sense of the established text is not remote or obscure. Where would be the absurdity of saying, You know not the law which teaches you to do right? Johnson.

Note return to page 749 4&lblank; to take your change upon you;] i. e. to take your change or reverse of fortune upon yourself, without any aid or participation. Malone. I have inserted this note, but without implicit confidence in the reading it explains. The second folio has—charge. Steevens.

Note return to page 750 5To seek my uncle.] Here the old copy adds—in the forest of Arden. But these words are an evident interpolation, without use, and injurious to the measure: “Why, whither shall we go!—To seek my uncle,” being a complete verse. Besides, we have been already informed by Charles the wrestler, that the banished Duke's residence was in the forest of Arden. Steevens.

Note return to page 751 6And with a kind of umber smirch my face;] Umber is a dusky yellow-coloured earth, brought from Umbria in Italy. See a note on “the umber'd fires,” in King Henry V. Act III. Malone.

Note return to page 752 7&lblank; curtle-ax &lblank;] Or cutlace, a broad sword. Johnson.

Note return to page 753 8We'll have a swashing, &c.] A swashing outside is an appearance of noisy, bullying valour. Swashing blow is mentioned in Romeo and Juliet; and, in King Henry V. the Boy says—“As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers;” meaning Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph. Steevens.

Note return to page 754 9&lblank; Now go we in content,] The old copy reads—Now go in we content. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. I am not sure that the transposition is necessary. Our author might have used content as an adjective. Malone.

Note return to page 755 1Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,] The old copy reads— not the penalty—. Steevens. What was the penalty of Adam, hinted at by our poet? The being sensible of the difference of the seasons? The Duke says, —the cold and effects of the winter feelingly persuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the penalty? Doubtless, the text must be restored as I have corrected; and it is obvious, in the course of these notes, how often not and but, by mistake, have changed place in our author's former editions. Theobald. As not has here taken the place of but, so, in Coriolanus, Act II. Sc. III. but is printed instead of not: “Cor. Ay, but mine own desire. “1 Cit. How! not your own desire.” Malone. Surely the old reading is right. Here we feel not, do not suffer, from the penalty of Adam, the season's difference; for when the winter's wind blows upon my body, I smile, and say—. Boswell.

Note return to page 756 2Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;] It was the current opinion in Shakspeare's time, that in the head of an old toad was to be found a stone, or pearl, to which great virtues were ascribed. This stone has been often sought, but nothing has been found more than accidental or perhaps morbid indurations of the skull. Johnson. In a book called A Green Forest, or a Natural History, &c. by John Maplett, 1567, is the following account of this imaginary gem: “In this stone is apparently seene verie often the verie forme of a tode, with despotted and coloured feete, but those uglye and defusedly. It is available against envenoming.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, 1639: “&lblank; in most physicians' heads, “There is a kind of toadstone bred.” Again, in Adrasta, or The Woman's Spleen, 1635: “Do not then forget the stone “In the toad, nor serpent's bone,” &c. Pliny, in the 32d book of his Natural History, ascribes many wonderful qualities to a bone found in the right side of a toad, but makes no mention of any gem in its head. This deficiency however is abundantly supplied by Edward Fenton, in his Secrete Wonders of Nature, 4to. bl. l. 1569, who says, “That there is founde in the heades of old and great toades, a stone which they call Borax or Stelon: it is most commonly founde in the head of a hee toad, of power to repulse poysons, and that it is a most soveraigne medicine for the stone.” Thomas Lupton, in his First Booke of Notable Things, 4to. bl. l. bears repeated testimony to the virtues of the “Tode-stone, called Crapaudina.” In his Seventh Book he instructs us how to procure it; and afterwards tells us—“You shall knowe whether the Tode-stone be the ryght and perfect stone or not. Holde the stone before a Tode, so that he may see it; and if it be a ryght and true stone, the Tode will leape towarde it, and make as though he would snatch it. He envieth so much that man should have that stone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 757 3Finds tongues in trees, &c.] So, in Sidney's Arcadia, book i. “Thus both trees and each thing else, be the bookes to a fancie.”

Note return to page 758 4I would not change it:] Mr. Upton, not without probability, gives these words to the Duke, and makes Amiens begin—Happy is your grace. Johnson.

Note return to page 759 5&lblank; native burghers of this desert city,] In Sidney's Arcadia, the deer are called “the wild burgesses of the forest.” Again, in the 18th song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “Where, fearless of the hunt, the hart securely stood, “And every where walk'd free, a burgess of the wood.” Steevens. A kindred expression is found in Lodge's Rosalinde, 1592: “About her wond'ring stood “The citizens o' the wood.” Our author afterwards uses this very phrase: “Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens.” Malone.

Note return to page 760 6&lblank; with forked heads &lblank;] i. e. with arrows, the points of which were barbed. So, in A Mad World my Masters: “While the broad arrow with the forked head “Misses,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 761 7&lblank; as he lay along Under an oak, &c.] “There at the foot of yonder nodding beech “That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, “His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, “And pore upon the brook that babbles by.” Gray's Elegy. Steevens.

Note return to page 762 8The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat, Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, &c.] Saucius at quadrupes nota intra tecta refugit, Successitque gemens stabulis; questuque, cruentus, Atque imploranti similis, tectum omne replevit. Virg. Malone. It is said in one of the marginal notes to a similar passage in the 13th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion, that “the harte weepeth at his dying: his tears are held to be precious in medicine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 763 9&lblank; in the needless stream;] The stream that wanted not such a supply of moisture. The old copy has into, caught probably by the compositor's eye from the line above. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 764 1To that which had too much:] Old copy—too must. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone. Shakspeare has almost the same thought in his Lover's Complaint: “&lblank; in a river &lblank; “Upon whose weeping margin she was set, “Like usury, applying wet to wet.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act V. Sc. IV.: “With tearful eyes add water to the sea, “And give more strength to that which hath too much.” Steevens.

Note return to page 765 2&lblank; Then, being alone,] The old copy redundantly reads— Then being there alone. Steevens.

Note return to page 766 3The body of the country,] The oldest copy omits—the; but it is supplied by the second folio, which has many advantages over the first. Mr. Malone is of a different opinion; but let him speak for himself. Steevens. Country is here used as a trisyllable. So again, in Twelfth Night: “The like of him. Know'st thou this country?” The editor of the second folio, who appears to have been utterly ignorant of our author's phraseology and metre, reads—The body of the country, &c. which has been followed by all the subsequent editors. Malone. Is not country used elsewhere also as a dissyllable? See Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. VI.: “And that his country's dearer than himself.” Besides, by reading country as a trisyllable, in the middle of a verse, it would become rough and dissonant. Steevens. I am bound to give Mr. Malone's text, or I should have been better pleased, in this instance, to have followed the second folio. Boswell.

Note return to page 767 4&lblank; to cope him &lblank;] To encounter him; to engage with him. Johnson.

Note return to page 768 5&lblank; the roynish clown,] Roynish, from rogneux, French, mangy, scurvy. The word is used by Chaucer, in The Romaunt of the Rose, 988: “That knottie was and all roinous.” Again, ibid. 6190: “This argument is all roignous &lblank;.” Again, by Dr. Gabriel Harvey, in his Pierce's Supererogation, 4to. 1593. Speaking of Long Meg of Westminster, he says— “Although she were a lusty bouncing rampe, somewhat like Gallemetta or Maid Marian, yet she was not such a roinish rannel, such a dissolute gillian-flirt,” &c. We are not to suppose the word is literally employed by Shakspeare, but in the same sense that the French still use carogne, a term of which Moliere is not very sparing in some of his pieces. Steevens.

Note return to page 769 6&lblank; of the wrestler &lblank;] Wrestler, (as Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed in a note on The Two Gentlemen of Verona,) is here to be sounded as a trisyllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 770 7Send to his brother;] I believe we should read—brother's. For when the Duke says in the following words, “Fetch that gallant hither;” he certainly means Orlando. M. Mason.

Note return to page 771 8&lblank; quail &lblank;] To quail is to faint, to sink into dejection. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; which my false spirits “Quail to remember.” Steevens.

Note return to page 772 9&lblank; O you memory &lblank;] Shakspeare often uses memory for memorial; and Beaumont and Fletcher sometimes. So, in The Humorous Lieutenant: “I knew then how to seek your memories.” Again, in The Atheist's Tragedy, by C. Turner, 1611: “And with his body place that memory “Of noble Charlemont.” Again, in Byron's Tragedy: “That statue will I prize past all the jewels “Within the cabinet of Beatrice, “The memory of my grandame.” Steevens.

Note return to page 773 1&lblank; so fond &lblank;] i. e. so indiscreet, so inconsiderate. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; I do wonder, “Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond “To come abroad with him &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 2The bony priser &lblank;] In the former editions—The bonny priser. We should read—bony priser. For this wrestler is characterised for his strength and bulk, not for his gaiety or good humour. Warburton. So, Milton: “Giants of mighty bone.” Johnson. So, in The Romance of Syr Degore, bl. l. no date: “This is a man all for the nones, “For he is a man of great bones.” Bonny, however, may be the true reading. So, in King Henry VI. P. II. Act V.: “Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.” Steevens. The word bonny occurs more than once in the novel from which this play of As You Like It is taken. It is likewise much used by the common people in the northern counties. I believe, however, bony to be the true reading. Malone.

Note return to page 775 3&lblank; to some kind of men &lblank;] Old copy—seeme kind. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 776 4This is no place,] Place here signifies a seat, a mansion, a residence. So, in the first book of Samuel: “Saul set him up a place, and is gone down to Gilgal.” Again, in Chaucer's Prologue to the Canterbury Tales: “His wonning was ful fayre upon an heth, “With grene trees yshadewed was his place.” We still use the word in compound with another, as—St. James's place, Rathbone place; and Crosby place, in King Richard III. &c. Steevens. Our author uses this word again in the same sense in his Lover's Complaint: “Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place.” Plas, in the Welch language, signifies a mansion-house. Malone. Steevens's explanation of this passage is too refined. Adam means merely to say—This is no place for you. M. Mason.

Note return to page 777 5&lblank; diverted blood,] Blood turned out of the course of nature. Johnson. So, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “Sometimes diverted, their poor balls are tied “To the orbed earth &lblank;.” Malone. To divert a water-course, that is, to change its course, was a common legal phrase, and an object of litigation in Westminster Hall, in our author's time, as it is at present. Again, in Ray's Travels: “We rode along the sea coast to Ostend, diverting at Nieuport, to refresh ourselves, and get a sight of the town;” i. e. leaving our course. Reed.

Note return to page 778 6&lblank; and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, &c.] See Saint Luke, xii. 6, and 24. Douce.

Note return to page 779 7&lblank; rebellious liquors in my blood;] That is, liquors which inflame the blood or sensual passions, and incite them to rebel against reason. So, in Othello: “For there's a young and sweating devil here, “That commonly rebels.” Malone. Perhaps he only means liquors that rebel against the constitution. Steevens.

Note return to page 780 8Even with the having:] Even with the promotion gained by service is service extinguished. Johnson.

Note return to page 781 9From seventeen years &lblank;] The old copy reads—seventy. The correction, which is fully supported by the context, was made by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 782 1O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits!] The old copy reads— how merry, &c. Steevens. And yet, within the space of one intervening line, she says, she could find in her heart to disgrace her man's apparel, and cry like a woman. Sure, this is but a very bad symptom of the briskness of spirits: rather a direct proof of the contrary disposition. Mr. Warburton and I concurred in conjecturing it should be, as I have reformed in the text:—how weary are my spirits! And the Clown's reply makes this reading certain. Theobald. In the original copy of Othello, 4to. 1622, nearly the same mistake has happened; for there we find— “Let us be merry, let us hide our joys,” Instead of—Let us be wary. Malone.

Note return to page 783 2&lblank; I had rather bear with you, than bear you:] This jingle is repeated in King Richard III.: “You mean to bear me, not to bear with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 784 3&lblank; yet I should bear no cross,] A cross was a piece of money stamped with a cross. On this our author is perpetually quibbling. Steevens.

Note return to page 785 4If thou remember'st not the slightest folly &lblank;] I am inclined to believe that from this passage Suckling took the hint of his song:   “Honest lover, whosoever,   “If in all thy love there ever “Was one wav'ring thought; if thy flame “Were not still even, still the same:   “Know this,   “Thou lov'st amiss, “And to love true, “Thou must begin again, and love anew,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 786 5Wearing thy hearer &lblank;] Thus the old copy, altered unnecessarily in the second folio to wearying. Malone.

Note return to page 787 6&lblank; of thy wound,] The old copy has—they would. The latter word was corrected by the editor of the second folio, the other by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 788 7&lblank; anight &lblank;] Thus the old copy. Anight, is in the night. The word is used by Chaucer, in The Legende of Good Women. Our modern editors read—o'night's, or o'night. Steevens.

Note return to page 789 8&lblank; batlet,] The instrument with which washers beat their coarse clothes. Johnson. Old copy—batler. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 790 9&lblank; two cods,] For cods it would be more like sense to read— peas, which having the shape of pearls, resembled the common presents of lovers. Johnson. In a schedule of jewels in the 15th vol. of Rymer's Fœdera, we find, “Item, two peascoddes of gold with 17 pearles.” Farmer. Peascods was the ancient term for peas as they are brought to market. So, in Greene's Groundwork of Cony-catching, 1592: “&lblank; went twice in the week to London, either with fruit or pescods,” &c. Again, in The Shepherd's Slumber, a song published in England's Helicon, 1600: “In pescod time when hound to horne “Gives ear till buck be kill'd,” &c. Again, in The Honest Man's Fortune, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Shall feed on delicates, the first peascods, strawberries.” Steevens. In the following passage, however, Touchstone's present certainly signifies not the pea but the pod, and so, I believe, the word is used here: “He [Richard II.] also used a peascod branch with the cods open, but the peas out, as it is upon his robe in his monument at Westminster.” Camden's Remains, 1614.—Here we see the cods and not the peas were worn. Why Shakspeare used the former word rather than pods, which appears to have had the same meaning, is obvious. Malone. The peascod certainly means the whole of the pea as it hangs upon the stalk. It was formerly used as an ornament in dress, and was represented with the shell open exhibiting the peas. The passage cited from Rymer, by Dr. Farmer, shows that the peas were sometimes made of pearls, and rather overturns Dr. Johnson's conjecture, who probably imagined that Touchstone took the cods from the peascods, and not from his mistress. Douce.

Note return to page 791 1&lblank; weeping tears,] A ridiculous expression from a sonnet in Lodge's Rosalynd, the novel on which this comedy is founded. It likewise occurs in the old anonymous play of The Victories of King Henry V. in Peele's Jests, &c. Steevens. The same expression occurs also in Lodge's Dorastus and Fawnia, on which The Winter's Tale is founded, and in many of our old books. Malone.

Note return to page 792 2&lblank; so is all nature in love mortal in folly.] This expression I do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort, a great quantity, is used as a particle of amplification; as mortal tall, mortal little. Of this sense I believe Shakspeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be—so is all nature in love abounding in folly. Johnson.

Note return to page 793 3&lblank; to you friend.] The old copy reads—to your friend. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 794 4And little recks &lblank;] i. e. heeds, cares for. So, in Hamlet: “And recks not his own rede.” Steevens.

Note return to page 795 5And in my voice most welcome shall you be,] In my voice, as far as I have a voice or vote, as far as I have power to bid you welcome. Johnson.

Note return to page 796 6And tune &lblank;] The old copy has turne. Corrected by Mr. Pope. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And to the nightingale's complaining note “Tune my distresses, and record my woes.” Malone. The old copy may be right, though Mr. Pope, &c. read tune. To turn a tune or a note, is still a current phrase among vulgar musicians. Steevens.

Note return to page 797 7&lblank; ragged;] i. e. broken, and unequal. Mr. Rowe and the subsequent editors read—rugged. Our author's term is yet used, if I mistake not, among singers. In Cymbeline he speaks of the snatches of the voice. Again, in King Henry IV. P. II. “Is not your voice broken?” In the Epistle prefixed to Spenser's Shepherd's Calender, the writer speaks of the rascally route of our “ragged rhimers;” and Sir Henry Wotton in his will mentions his “ragged estate.” Again, in our poet's Rape of Lucrece: “Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, “Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name.” Again, in Nashe's Anatomie of Absurditie, 1589: “&lblank; as the foolish painter in Plutarch, having blurred a ragged table with the rude picture of a dunghill cocke, wished his boy in any case to drive all live cocks from this his worthless workmanship,” &c. See also the extract from his Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, quoted below. Malone. Our modern editors (Mr. Malone excepted) read rugged; but ragged had anciently the same meaning. So, in Nash's Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 4to. 1593: “I would not trot a false gallop through the rest of his ragged verses,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 798 *First folio, stanzo.

Note return to page 799 †First folio, stanzos.

Note return to page 800 8&lblank; dispútable &lblank;] For disputatious. Malone.

Note return to page 801 9&lblank; to live i' the sun,] Modern editions, to lie. Johnson. To live i' the sun, is to labour and “sweat in the eye of Phœbus,” or, vitam agere sub dio; for by lying in the sun, how could they get the food they eat? Tollet.

Note return to page 802 1&lblank; ducdàme;] For ducdàme, Sir Thomas Hanmer, very acutely and judiciously, reads duc ad me, that is, bring him to me. Johnson. If duc ad me were right, Amiens would not have asked its meaning, and been put off with “a Greek invocation.” It is evidently a word coined for the nonce. We have here, as Butler says, “One for sense, and one for rhyme.” Indeed we must have a double rhyme; or this stanza cannot well be sung to the same tune with the former. I read thus: “Ducdàme, Ducdàme, Ducdàme,   “Here shall he see   “Gross fools as he, “An' if he will come to Ami.” That is, to Amiens. Jaques did not mean to ridicule himself. Farmer. Duc ad me has hitherto been received as an allusion to the burthen of Amiens's song— “Come hither, come hither, come hither.” That Amiens, who is a courtier, should not understand Latin, or be persuaded it was Greek, is no great matter for wonder. An anonymous correspondent proposes to read—Huc ad me. In confirmation of the old reading, however, Dr. Farmer observes to me, that, being at a house not far from Cambridge, when news was brought that the hen roost was robbed, a facetious old squire who was present, immediately sung the following stanza, which has an odd coincidence with the ditty of Jaques: “Damè, what makes your ducks to die?   “duck, duck, duck.— “Damè, what makes your chicks to cry?   “chuck, chuck, chuck.”— I have placed Dr. Farmer's emendation in the text. Ducdàme is a trisyllable. Steevens. I have adhered to the old reading, If he will come to me, is if he will come hither. The Reverend Mr. Whiter has made the following observation on this passage. “Amy is the reading of the old copy, and is certainly right. It surely was incumbent on the Doctor [Farmer], or some of his fellow critics, to have given us this information; especially as their attention must naturally be awake in the discussion of so disputed a passage. I have seldom found the interests of learning much promoted by literary fellowships.” If Mr. Whiter had taken the trouble of looking at any of the old copies, he would not have hazarded so unfounded an assertion. The reading of the text is found both in the first and second folio. Malone. “If it do come to pass, “That any man turn ass, “Leaving his wealth and ease, “A stubborn will to please, “Ducdàme, ducdàme, ducdàme; “Here shall he see “Gross fools as he,” &c. See Hor. Serm. L. II. sat. iii.: “Audire atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis “Ambitione mala aut argenti pallet amore; “Quisquis luxuriâ tristive superstitione, “Aut alio mentis morbo calet: Huc proprius me, “Dum doceo insanire omnes, vos ordine adite.” Malone.

Note return to page 803 2&lblank; the first-born of Egypt.] A proverbial expression for high-born persons. Johnson. The phrase is scriptural, as well as proverbial. So, in Exodus, xii. 29: “And the Lord smote all the first born in Egypt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 804 3Here lie I down, and measure out my grave.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; fall upon the ground, as I do now, “Taking the measure of an unmade grave.” Steevens.

Note return to page 805 4&lblank; compact of jars,] i. e. made up of discords. In The Comedy of Errors, we have “compact of credit,” for made up of credulity. Again, in Woman is a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; like gilded tombs “Compacted of jet pillars.” The same expression occurs also in Tamburlane, 1590: “Compact of rapine, piracy, and spoil.” Steevens.

Note return to page 806 5A motley fool;—a miserable world!] What, because he met a motley fool, was it therefore a miserable world? This is sadly blundered; we should read: “&lblank; a miserable varlet.” His head is altogether running on this fool, both before and after these words, and here he calls him a miserable varlet, notwithstanding he railed on lady Fortune in good terms, &c. Nor is the change we may make, so great as appears at first sight. Warburton. I see no need of changing world to varlet, nor, if a change were necessary, can I guess how it should certainly be known that varlet is the true word. A miserable world is a parenthetical exclamation, frequent among melancholy men, and natural to Jaques at the sight of a fool, or at the hearing of reflections on the fragility of life. Johnson.

Note return to page 807 6Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune:] Alluding to the common saying, that fools are Fortune's favourites. Malone. Fortuna favet fatuis, is, as Mr. Upton observes, the saying here alluded to; or, as in Publius Syrus: Fortuna, nimium quem fovet, stultum facit. So, in the Prologue to the Alchemist: “Fortune, that favours fooles, these two short houres “We wish away.” Again, in Every Man out of his Humour, Act I. Sc. III.: “Sog. Why, who am I, sir? “Mac. One of those that fortune favours. “Car. The periphrasis of a foole.” Reed.

Note return to page 808 7&lblank; Motley's the only wear.] It would have been unnecessary to repeat that a motley, or party-coloured coat, was anciently the dress of a fool, had not the editor of Ben Jonson's works been mistaken in his comment on the 53d Epigram: “&lblank; where, out of motly,'s he “Could save that line to dedicate to thee?” Motly, says Mr. Whalley, is the man who out of any odd mixture, or old scraps, could save, &c. whereas it means only, Who but a fool, i. e. one in a suit of motley, &c. See Fig. XII. in the plate at the end of The First Part of King Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's explanation. The observation—Motley's the only wear, might have been suggested to Shakspeare by the following line in the 4th Satire of Donne: “Your only wearing is your grogaram.” Steevens.

Note return to page 809 8&lblank; dry as the remainder biscuit,] So, in Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour: “And now and then breaks a dry biscuit jest, “Which that it may more easily be chew'd, “He steeps in his own laughter.” Boswell.

Note return to page 810 9&lblank; only suit;] Suit means petition, I believe, not dress. Johnson. The poet means a quibble. So, Act V.: “Not out of your apparel, but out of your suit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 811 1&lblank; as large a charter as the wind,] So, in King Henry V.: “The wind, that charter'd libertine, is still.” Malone.

Note return to page 812 2Not to seem senseless of the bob:] The old copies read only—Seem senseless, &c. Not to were supplied by Mr. Theobald. See the following note. Steevens. Besides that the third verse is defective one whole foot in measure, the tenour of what Jaques continues to say, and the reasoning of the passage, show it no less defective in the sense. There is no doubt but the two little monosyllables, which I have supplied, were either by accident wanting in the manuscript, or by inadvertence were left out. Theobald. Mr. Whiter ingeniously defends the old reading: “I read and point the passage thus: “He that a fool doth very wisely hit, “Doth, very foolishly, although he smart, “Seem senseless of the bob; if not, &c.” “That is, a wise man whose feeling should chance to be well rallied by a simple unmeaning jester, even though he should be weak enough really to be hurt by so foolish an attack, appears always insensible of the stroke.” Boswell.

Note return to page 813 2&lblank; if not, &c.] Unless men have the prudence not to appear touched with the sarcasms of a jester, they subject themselves to his power; and the wise man will have his folly anatomised, that is, dissected and laid open, by the squandering glances or random shots of a fool. Johnson.

Note return to page 814 3Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,] So, in Macbeth: “Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff.” Douce.

Note return to page 815 4&lblank; for a counter,] Dr. Farmer observes to me, that about the time when this play was written, the French counters (i. e. pieces of false money used as a means of reckoning) were brought into use in England. They are again mentioned in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; will you with counters sum “The past proportion of his infinite?” Steevens.

Note return to page 816 5As sensual as the brutish sting &lblank;] Though the brutish sting is capable of a sense not inconvenient in this passage, yet as it is a harsh and unusual mode of speech, I should read the brutish sty. Johnson. I believe the old reading is the true one. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. viii.: “A herd of bulls whom kindly rage doth sting.” Again, b. ii. c. xii.: “As if that hunger's point, or Venus' sting, “Had them enrag'd.” Again, in Othello: “&lblank; our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 817 6Till that the very very &lblank;] The old copy reads—weary very. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 818 7&lblank; his bravery &lblank;] i. e. his fine clothes. So, in The Taming of a Shrew: “With scarfs and fans, and double change of bravery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 819 8There then; How, what then? &c.] I believe we should read —Where then? So, in Othello: “What then? How then? Where's satisfaction?” Malone. The old copy reads, very redundantly— “There then? How then? What then,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 820 *First folio, come.

Note return to page 821 9&lblank; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility:] We might read torn with more elegance, but elegance alone will not justify alteration. Johnson.

Note return to page 822 1&lblank; inland bred,] Inland here, and elsewhere in this play, is the opposite to outland, or upland. Orlando means to say, that he had not been bred among clowns. Holt White.

Note return to page 823 2And know some nurture:] Nurture is education, breeding, manners. So, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “He shew'd himself as full of nurture as of nature.” Again, as Mr. Holt White observes to me, Barret says in his Alvearie, 1580: “It is a point of nurture, or good manners, to salute them that you meete. Urbanitatis est salutare obvios.” Steevens. St. Paul advises the Ephesians, in his Epistle, ch. vi. 4, to bring their children up “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” Harris.

Note return to page 824 3&lblank; desert inaccessible,] This expression I find in The Adventures of Simonides, by Barn. Riche, 1580: “&lblank; and onely acquainted himselfe with the solitarinesse of this unaccessible desert.” Henderson

Note return to page 825 4And take upon command what help we have,] Upon command, is at your own command. Steevens.

Note return to page 826 5Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, And give it food.] So, in Venus and Adonis: “Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ake, “Hasting to feed her fawn.” Malone.

Note return to page 827 6Wherein we play in.] Thus the old copy. Mr. Pope more correctly reads— “Wherein we play.” I believe, with Mr. Pope, that we should only read— “Wherein we play.” and add a word at the beginning of the next speech, to complete the measure; viz. Why, all the world's a stage. Thus, in Hamlet: “Hor. So Rosencrantz and Guildenstern go to't. “Ham. Why, man, they did make love to their employment.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once.” Again, ibid.: “Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done.” In twenty other instances we find the same adverb introductorily used. Steevens. For a defence of the phraseology objected to by Mr. Pope and Mr. Steevens, see Romeo and Juliet, p. 70, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 828 7All the world's a stage, &c.] This observation occurs in one of the fragments of Petronius: “Non duco contentionis funem, dum constet inter nos, quod fere totus mundus exerceat histrioniam.” Steevens. This observation had been made in an English drama before the time of Shakspeare. See Damon and Pythias, 1582: “Pythagoras said, that this world was like a stage, “Whereon many play their parts.” In The Legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, 1597, we find these lines: “Unhappy man— “Whose life a sad continual tragedie, “Himself the actor, in the world, the stage, “While as the acts are measur'd by his age.” Malone.

Note return to page 829 8His acts being seven ages.] On account of the length of the notes on this passage, I have thrown them to the end of the play.10Q0008 Boswell.

Note return to page 830 9And then,] And, which is wanting in the old copy, was supplied, for the sake of metre, by Mr. Pope. Steevens.

Note return to page 831 1Sighing like furnace,] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; he furnaceth the thick sighs from him &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 832 2&lblank; a soldier; Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,] So, in Cythia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “Your soldiers face—the grace of this face consisteth much in a beard.” Steevens. Beards of different cut were appropriated in our author's time to different characters and professions. The soldier had one fashion, the judge another, the bishop different from both, &c. See a note on King Henry V. Act III. Sc. VI.: “And what a beard of the general's cut,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 833 3&lblank; sudden and quick &lblank;] Lest it should be supposed that these epithets are synonymous, it is necessary to be observed that one of the ancient senses of sudden, is violent. Thus, in Macbeth: “&lblank; I grant him sudden, “Malicious,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 834 4Full of wise saws and modern instances,] It is remarkable that Shakspeare uses modern in the double sense that the Greeks used &grk;&gra;&gri;&grn;&gro;&grst;, both for recens and absurdus. Warburton. I am in doubt whether modern is in this place used for absurd: the meaning seems to be, that the justice is full of old sayings and late examples. Johnson. Modern means trite, common. So, in King John: “And scorns a modern invocation.” Again, in this play, Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; betray themselves to modern censure.” Steevens. Again, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act II. Sc. III.: “&lblank; to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless.” Malone.

Note return to page 835 5&lblank; The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;] There is a greater beauty than appears at first sight in this image. He is here comparing human life to a stage play of seven Acts (which is no unusual division before our author's time). The sixth he calls the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, alluding to that general character in the Italian comedy, called Il Pantalóne; who is a thin emaciated old man in slippers; and well designed, in that epithet, because Pantalóne is the only character that acts in slippers. Warburton. In The Travels of the Three English Brothers, a comedy, 1606, [as Mr. Capell has remarked,] an Italian Harlequin is introduced, who offers to perform a play at a Lord's house, in which, among other characters, he mentions “a jealous coxcomb, and an old Pantaloune.” But this is seven years later than the date of the play before us: nor do I know from whence our author could learn the circumstance mentioned by Dr. Warburton, that “Pantalóne is the only character in the Italian comedy that acts in slippers.” In Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598, the word is not found. In The Taming of a Shrew, one of the characters, if I remember right, is called “an old Pantaloon,” but there is no farther description of him. Nashe, in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, 1592, commending the English Theatres, says, “our stage is more stately furnished,—not consisting, like theirs, of a Pantaloun, a whore, and a Zanie,” &c. but he does not describe the dress of the Pantaloon. Malone.

Note return to page 836 6&lblank; the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose,] So, in The Plotte of the Deade Man's Fortune: [See vol. iii.] “Enter the panteloun and pescode with spectakles.” Steevens.

Note return to page 837 7&lblank; Set down your venerable burden,] Is it not likely that Shakspeare had in his mind this line of the Metamorphoses? xiii. 125: &lblank; Patremque Fert humeris, venerabile onus, Cythereius heros. Johnson. A. Golding, p. 169, b. edit. 1587, translates it thus: “&lblank; upon his backe “His aged father and his gods, an honorable packe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 838 8Thou art not so unkind, &c.] That is, thy action is not so contrary to thy kind, or to human nature, as the ingratitude of man. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis, 1593: “O had thy mother borne so bad a mind, “She had not brought forth thee, but dy'd unkind.” Malone.

Note return to page 839 9Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen,] This song is designed to suit the Duke's exiled condition, who had been ruined by ungrateful flatterers. Now the winter wind, the song says, is to be preferred to man's ingratitude. But why? Because it is not seen. But this was not only an aggravation of the injury, as it was done in secret, not seen, but was the very circumstance that made the keenness of the ingratitude of his faithless courtiers. Without doubt, Shakspeare wrote the line thus: “Because thou art not sheen,” i. e. smiling, shining, like an ungrateful court-servant, who flatters while he wounds, which was a very good reason for giving the winter wind the preference. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Spangled star-light sheen.” And several other places. Chaucer uses it in this sense: “Your blissful sister Lucina the shene.” And Fairfax: “The sacred angel took his target shene, “And by the Christian champion stood unseen.” The Oxford editor, who had this emendation communicated to him, takes occasion from hence to alter the whole line thus: “Thou causest not that teen.” But, in his rage of correction, he forgot to leave the reason, which is now wanting—Why the winter wind was to be preferred to man's ingratitude. Warburton. I am afraid that no reader is satisfied with Dr. Warburton's emendation, however vigorously enforced; and it is indeed enforced with more art than truth. Sheen, i. e. smiling, shining. That sheen signifies shining, is easily proved, but when or where did it signify smiling? yet smiling gives the sense necessary in this place. Sir T. Hanmer's change is less uncouth, but too remote from the present text. For my part, I question whether the original line is not lost, and this substituted merely to fill up the measure and the rhyme. Yet even out of this line, by strong agitation may sense be elicited, and sense not unsuitable to the occasion. Thou winter wind, says Amiens, thy rudeness gives the less pain, as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us with thy presence, and whose unkindness is therefore not aggravated by insult. Johnson. Though the old text may be tortured into a meaning, perhaps it would be as well to read: “Because the heart's not seen.” ye harts, according to the ancient mode of writing, was easily corrupted. Farmer. So, in the Sonnet introduced into Love's Labour's Lost: “Through the velvet leaves the wind “All unseen 'gan passage find.” Steevens. Again, in Measure for Measure: “To be imprison'd in the viewless winds.” Malone.

Note return to page 840 1Though thou the waters warp,] The surface of waters, so long as they remain unfrozen, is apparently a perfect plane; whereas, when they are, this surface deviates from its exact flatness, or warps. This is remarkable in small ponds, the surface of which, when frozen, forms a regular concave; the ice on the sides rising higher than that in the middle. Kenrick. To warp was, probably, in Shakspeare's time, a colloquial word, which conveyed no distant allusion to any thing else, physical or mechanical. To warp is to turn, and to turn, is to change: when milk is changed by curdling, we now say it is turned: when water is changed or turned by frost, Shakspeare says, it is curdled. To be warp'd is only to be changed from its natural state. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is certainly right. So, in Cynthia's Revels, of Ben Jonson: “I know not, he's grown out of his garb a-late, he's warp'd.—And so, methinks too, he is much converted.” Thus the mole is called the mould-warp, because it changes the appearance of the surface of the earth. Again, in The Winter's Tale, Act I.: “My favour here begins to warp.” Dr. Farmer supposes warp'd to mean the same as curdled, and adds that a similar idea occurs in Timon: “&lblank; the icicle “That curdled by the frost,” &c. Steevens. Among a collection of Saxon adages in Hickes's Thesaurus, vol. i. p. 221, the succeeding appears: þinter sceal &yogh;eþeorpan þeder, winter shall warp water. So that Shakspeare's expression was anciently proverbial. It should be remarked, that among the numerous examples in Manning's excellent edition of Lye's Dictionary, there is no instance of þeorpan or &yogh;eþeorpan, implying to freeze, bend, turn, or curdle, though it is a verb of very extensive signification. Probably this word still retains a similar sense in the northern part of the island, for in a Scottish parody on Dr. Percy's elegant ballad, beginning, “O Nancy, wilt thou gang with me,” I find the verse “Nor shrink before the wintry wind,” is altered to “Nor shrink before the warping wind.” Holt White. The meaning is this: Though the very waters, by thy agency, are forced, against the law of their nature, to bend from their stated level, yet thy sting occasions less anguish to man, than the ingratitude of those he befriended. Henley. Wood is said to warp when its surface, from being level, becomes bent and uneven; from warpan, Saxon, to cast. So, in this play, Act III. Sc. III: “&lblank; then one of you will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.” I doubt whether the poet here alludes to any operation of frost. The meaning may be only, Thou bitter wintry sky, though thou curlest the waters, thy sting, &c. Thou in the line before us refers only to—bitter sky. The influence of the winter's sky or season may, with sufficient propriety, be said to warp the surface of the ocean, by agitation of its waves alone. That this passage refers to the turbulence of the sky, and the consequent agitation of the ocean, and not to the operation of frost, may be collected from our author's having in King John described ice not as warped or uneven, but as uncommonly smooth: “To throw a perfume on the violet, “To smooth the ice,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 841 2As friend remember'd not.] Remember'd for remembering. So, afterwards, Act III. Sc. last: “And now I am remember'd &lblank;.” i. e. and now that I bethink me, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 842 3&lblank; as thy master is:] The old copy has—masters. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 843 4&lblank; an absent argument &lblank;] An argument is used for the contents of a book; thence Shakspeare considered it as meaning the subject, and then used it for subject in yet another sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 844 5Seek him with candle;] Alluding, probably, to St. Luke's Gospel, ch. xv. v. 8: “If she lose one piece, doth she not light a candle,—and seek diligently till she find it?” Steevens.

Note return to page 845 6And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands:] “To make an extent of lands,” is a legal phrase, from the words of a writ, (extendi facias,) whereby the sheriff is directed to cause certain lands to be appraised to their full extended value, before he delivers them to the person entitled under a recognizance, &c. in order that it may be certainly known how soon the debt will be paid. Malone.

Note return to page 846 7&lblank; expediently,] That is, expeditiously. Johnson. Expedient, throughout our author's plays, signifies—expeditious. So, in King John: “His marches are expedient to this town.” Again, in King Richard II.: “Are making hither with all due expedience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 847 8&lblank; thrice-crowned queen of night,] Alluding to the triple character of Proserpine, Cynthia, and Diana, given by some mythologists to the same goddess, and comprised in these memorial lines: Terret, lustrat, agit, Proserpina, Luna, Diana, Ima, superna, feras, sceptro, fulgore, sagittis. Johnson.

Note return to page 848 9&lblank; that my full life doth sway.] So, in Twelfth Night: “M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 849 1&lblank; unexpressive &lblank;] For inexpressible. Johnson. Milton also, in his Hymn on the Nativity, uses unexpressive for inexpressible: “Harping with loud and solemn quire, “With unexpressive notes to heaven's new-born heir.” Malone.

Note return to page 850 2&lblank; he, that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.] I am in doubt whether the custom of the language in Shakspeare's time did not authorise this mode of speech, and make “complain of good breeding” the same with “complain of the want of good breeding.” In the last line of The Merchant of Venice we find that to “fear the keeping” is to “fear the not keeping.” Johnson. I think he means rather—may complain of a good education, for being so inefficient, of so little use to him. Malone.

Note return to page 851 3Such a one is a natural philosopher.] The shepherd had said all the philosophy he knew was the property of things, that rain wetted, fire burnt, &c. And the Clown's reply, in a satire on physicks or natural philosophy, though introduced with a quibble, is extremely just. For the natural philosopher is indeed as ignorant (notwithstanding all his parade of knowledge) of the efficient cause of things, as the rustic. It appears, from a thousand instances, that our poet was well acquainted with the physicks of his time; and his great penetration enabled him to see this remediless defect of it. Warburton. Shakspeare is responsible for the quibble only; let the commentator answer for the refinement. Steevens. The Clown calls Corin a natural philosopher, because he reasons from his observations on nature. M. Mason. A natural being a common term for a fool, Touchstone, perhaps, means to quibble on the word. He may however only mean, that Corin is a self-taught philosopher; the disciple of nature. Malone.

Note return to page 852 4&lblank; like an ill-roasted egg,] Of this jest I do not fully comprehend the meaning. Johnson. There is a proverb, that a fool is the best roaster of an egg, because he is always turning it. This will explain how an egg may be damn'd all on one side; but will not sufficiently show how Touchstone applies his simile with propriety; unless he means that he who has not been at court is but half educated. Steevens. I believe there was nothing intended in the corresponding part of the simile, to answer to the words, “all on one side.” Shakspeare's similes (as has been already observed) hardly ever run on four feet. Touchstone, I apprehend, only means to say, that Corin is completely damned; as irretrievably destroyed as an egg that is utterly spoiled in the roasting, by being done all on one side only. So, in a subsequent scene, “and both in a tune, like two gypsies on a horse.” Here the poet certainly meant that the speaker and his companion should sing in unison, and thus resemble each other as perfectly as two gypsies on a horse; not that two gypsies on a horse sing both in a tune. Malone.

Note return to page 853 5&lblank; make incision in thee!] To make incision was a proverbial expression then in vogue for to make to understand. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Humorous Lieutenant: “&lblank; O excellent king, “Thus he begins, thou life and light of creatures, “Angel-ey'd king, vouchsafe at length thy favour; “And so proceeds to incision &lblank;.” i. e. to make him understand what he would be at. Warburton. Till I read Dr. Warburton's note, I thought the allusion had been to that common expression, of cutting such a one for the simples; and I must own, after consulting the passage in the Humorous Lieutenant, I have no reason to alter my supposition. The editors of Beaumont and Fletcher declare the phrase to be unintelligible in that, as well as in another play where it is introduced. I find the same expression in Monsieur Thomas: “We'll bear the burthen: proceed to incision, fidler.” Again, (as I learn from a memorandum of my late friend, Dr. Farmer,) in The Times Whistle, or a New Daunce of Seven Satires: MS. about the end of Queen Eliz. by R. C. Gent. now at Canterbury: The Prologue ends— “Be stout my heart, my hand be firm and steady; “Strike, and strike home,—the vaine worldes vaine is ready: “Let ulcer'd limbes and goutie humors quake, “Whilst with my pen I doe incision make.” Steevens. I believe that Steevens has explained this passage justly, and am certain that Warburton has entirely mistaken the meaning of that which he has quoted from The Humorous Lieutenant, which plainly alludes to the practice of the young gallants of the time, who used to cut themselves in such a manner as to make their blood flow, in order to show their passion for their mistresses, by drinking their healths, or writing verses to them in blood. For a more full explanation of this custom, see a note on Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV. Sc. III. M. Mason.

Note return to page 854 6&lblank; thou art raw.] i. e. thou art ignorant; unexperienced. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; and yet but raw neither, in respect of his quick sail.” Malone.

Note return to page 855 7&lblank; bawd to a bell-wether;] Wether and ram had anciently the same meaning. Johnson.

Note return to page 856 8&lblank; fairest lin'd,] i. e. most fairly delineated. Modern editors read—limn'd, but without authority from the ancient copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 857 9But the fair of Rosalind.] Thus the old copy. Fair is beauty, complexion. See the notes on a passage in The Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I. Sc. I. and The Comedy of Errors, Act II. Sc. I. The modern editors read—the face of Rosalind. Lodge's Novel will likewise support the ancient reading: “Then muse not, nymphes, though I bemone “The absence of fair Rosalynde, “Since for her faire there is fairer none,” &c. Again: “And hers the faire which all men do respect.” Steevens. Face was introduced by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 858 1&lblank; rank to market,] Sir T. Hanmer reads—rate to market. Johnson. Dr. Grey, as plausibly, proposes to read—rant. “Gyll brawled like a butter-whore,” is a line in an ancient medley. The sense designed, however, might have been—it is such wretched rhyme as the butter-woman sings as she is riding to market. So, in Churchyard's Charge, 1580, p. 7: “And use a kinde of ridynge rime &lblank;.” Again, in his Farewell from the Courte: “A man maie,” says he, “&lblank; use a kinde of ridying rime “To sutche as wooll not let me clime.” Ratt-ryme, however, in Scotch, signifies some verse repeated by rote. See Ruddiman's Glossary to G. Douglas's Virgil. Steevens. The Clown is here speaking in reference to the ambling pace of the metre, which, after giving a specimen of, to prove his assertion, he affirms to be “the very false gallop of verses.” Henley. A passage in All's Well that End's Well “Tounge, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy myself another of Bajezet's mules, if you prattle me into these perils;” once induced me to think that the volubility of the butter-woman selling her wares at market was alone in our author's thoughts, and that he wrote—rate at market: but I am now persuaded that Sir T. Hanmer's emendation is right. The hobbling metre of these verses, (says Touchstone,) is like the ambling, shuffling pace of a butter-woman's horse, going to market. The same kind of imagery is found in King Henry IV. Part I.: “And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, “Nothing so much, as mincing poetry; “'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.” Malone. “The right butter-woman's rank to market” means the jogtrot rate (as it is vulgarly called) with which butter-women uniformly travel one after another in their road to market: in its application to Orlando's poetry, it means a set or string of verses in the same coarse cadence and vulgar uniformity of rythm. Whiter.

Note return to page 859 2This is the very false gallop of verses;] So, in Nashe's Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 4to. 1593: “I would trot a false gallop through the rest of his ragged verses, but that if I should retort the rime doggrell aright, I must make my verses (as he doth his) run hobbling, like a brewer's cart upon the stones, and observe no measure in their feet.” Malone.

Note return to page 860 3&lblank; the earliest fruit &lblank;] Shakspeare seems to have had little knowledge in gardening. The medlar is one of the latest fruits, being uneatable till the end of November. Steevens.

Note return to page 861 4Why should this desert silent be?] The word silent is not in the old copy. Mr. Pope attempted to correct the passage by reading—“Why should this a desert be?” The present judicious emendation was made by Mr. Tyrwhitt, who justly observes that “the hanging of tongues on every tree would not make it less a desert.” Malone. This is commonly printed: “Why should this a desert be?” But although the metre may be assisted by this correction, the sense still is defective; for how will the hanging of tongues on every tree, make it less a desert? I am persuaded we ought to read: Why should this desert silent be? Tyrwhitt. The notice which this emendation deserves, I have paid to it, by inserting it in the text. Steevens. Yet see the last sentence of Johnson's note immediately following, which will obviate the necessity of Mr. Tyrwhitt's emendation, if we adopt the slight insertion proposed by Mr. Pope. Boswell.

Note return to page 862 5That shall civil sayings show.] Civil is here used in the same sense as when we say civil wisdom or civil life, in opposition to a solitary state, or to the state of nature. This desert shall not appear unpeopled, for every tree shall teach the maxims or incidents of social life. Johnson. Civil, I believe, is not designedly opposed to solitary. It means only grave, or solemn. So, in The Twelfth-Night, Act III. Sc. IV.: “Where is Malvolio? he is sad, and civil.” i. e. grave and demure. Again, in A Woman's Prize, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “That fourteen yards of satin give my woman; “I do not like the colour; 'tis too civil.” Steevens.

Note return to page 863 6&lblank; in little show,] The allusion is to a miniature-portrait. The current phrase in our author's time was “painted in little.” Malone. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; a hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little.” Steevens.

Note return to page 864 7Therefore heaven nature charg'd &lblank;] From the picture of Apelles, or the accomplishments of Pandora: &grP;&gra;&grn;&grd;&grw;&grr;&grh;&grn; &gro;&grt;&gri; &grp;&gra;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &GROs;&grl;&gru;&grm;&grp;&gri;&gra; &grd;&grw;&grm;&gra;&grt;&grap; &gre;&grx;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &grD;&grw;&grr;&gro;&grn; &gre;&grd;&grw;&grr;&grh;&grs;&gra;&grn;.— So, before: “&lblank; But thou “So perfect, and so peerless, art created “Of every creature's best.” Tempest. Perhaps from this passage Swift had his hint of Biddy Floyd. Johnson.

Note return to page 865 8Atalanta's better part;] I know not well what could be the better part of Atalanta here ascribed to Rosalind. Of the Atalanta most celebrated, and who therefore must be intended here where she has no epithet of discrimination, the better part seems to have been her heels, and the worse part was so bad that Rosalind would not thank her lover for the comparison. There is a more obscure Atalanta, a huntress and a heroine, but of her nothing bad is recorded, and therefore I know not which was her better part. Shakspeare was no despicable mythologist, yet he seems here to have mistaken some other character for that of Atalanta. Johnson. Perhaps the poet means her beauty and graceful elegance of shape, which he would prefer to her swiftness. Thus Ovid: &lblank; nec dicere posses, Laude pedum, formæne bono præstantior esset. Ut faciem, et posito corpus velamine vidit, Obstupuit—. But cannot Atalanta's better part mean her virtue or virgin chastity, with which nature had graced Rosalind, together with Helen's beauty without her heart or lewdness, with Cleopatra's dignity of behaviour, and with Lucretia's modesty, that scorned to survive the loss of honour? Pliny's Natural History, b. xxxv. c. iii. mentions the portraits of Atalanta and Helen, utraque excellentissima forma, sed altera ut virgo; that is, “both of them for beauty, incomparable, and yet a man may discerne the one [Atalanta] of them to be a maiden, for her modest and chaste countenance,” as Dr. P. Holland translated the passage; of which probably our poet had taken notice, for surely he had judgment in painting. Tollet. I suppose Atalanta's better part is her wit, i. e. the swiftness of her mind. Farmer. Dr. Farmer's explanation may derive some support from a subsequent passage: “&lblank; as swift a wit as Atalanta's heels.” It is observable that the story of Atalanta in the tenth book of Ovid's Metamorphosis is interwoven with that of Venus and Adonis, which our author had undoubtedly read. The lines most material to the present point run thus in Golding's translation, 1567: “She overcame them out of doubt; and hard it is to tell “Thee, whether she did in footemanshippe or beautie more excell.”   “&lblank; he did condemne the young men's love. But when “He saw her face and body bare, (for why, the lady then “Did strip her to her naked skin,) the which was like to mine, “Or rather, if that thou wast made a woman, like to thine, “He was amaz'd.”     “&lblank; And though that she “Did flie as swift as arrow from a Turkie bow, yet hee “More wondered at her beautie, then at swiftnesse of her pace; “Her running greatly did augment her beautie and her grace.” Malone. Shakspeare might have taken part of this enumeration of distinguished females from John Grange's Golden Aphroditis, 1577: “&lblank; who seemest in my sight faire Helen of Troy, Polixene, Calliope, yea Atalanta hir selfe in beauty to surpasse, Pandora in qualities, Penelope and Lucretia in chastenesse to deface.” Again, ibid.: “Polixene fayre, Caliop, and   “Penelop may give place; “Atalanta and dame Lucres fayre   “She doth them both deface.” Again, ibid.: “Atalanta who sometyme bore the bell of beauties price in that hyr native soyle.” It may be obseryed, that Statius also, in his sixth Thebaid, has confounded Atalanta the wife of Hippomenes, and daughter of Siconeus, with Atalanta the daughter of Œnomaus, and wife of Pelops. See v. 564. After all, I believe, that “Atalanta's better part” means only— the best part about her, such as was most commended. Steevens. See a very ingenious disquisition on this passage by Mr. Whiter, in his Specimen of a Commentary on Shakspeare. Boswell. I think this stanza was formed on an old tetrastick epitaph, which, as I have done, Mr. Steevens may possibly have read in a country church-yard: “She who is dead and sleepeth in this tomb, “Had Rachel's comely face, and Leah's fruitful womb: “Sarah's obedience, Lydia's open heart, “And Martha's care, and Mary's better part.” Whalley.

Note return to page 866 9Sad &lblank;] Is grave, sober, not light. Johnson. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “She is never sad but when she sleeps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 867 1&lblank; the touches &lblank;] The features; les traits. Johnson. So, in King Richard III.: “Madam, I have a touch of your condition.” Steevens.

Note return to page 868 2&lblank; a palm-tree;] A palm-tree, in the forest of Arden, is as much out of its place, as the lioness in a subsequent scene. Steevens.

Note return to page 869 3I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat,] Rosalind is a very learned lady. She alludes to the Pythagorean doctrine, which teaches that souls transmigrate from one animal to another, and relates that in his time she was an Irish rat, and by some metrical charm was rhymed to death. The power of killing rats with rhymes Donne mentions in his Satires, and Temple in his Treatises. Dr. Grey has produced a similar passage from Randolph: “&lblank; My poets “Shall with a satire, steep'd in gall and vinegar, “Rhyme them to death as they do rats in Ireland.” Johnson. So, in an address to the reader at the conclusion of Ben Jonson's Poetaster: “Rhime them to death, as they do Irish rats “In drumming tunes.” Steevens. So, in The Defence of Poesie, by our author's contemporary, Sir Philip Sidney: “Though I will not wish unto you—to be driven by a poet's verses, as Rubonax was, to hang yourself, nor to be rimed to death, as is said to be done in Ireland &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 870 4&lblank; friends to meet:] Alluding ironically to the proverb: “Friends may meet, but mountains never greet.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens. So, in Mother Bombie, by Lily, 1594: “Then we two met, which argued that we were no mountains.” Malone.

Note return to page 871 5&lblank; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.] “Montes duo inter se concurrerunt,” &c. says Pliny, Hist. Nat. lib. ii. c. lxxxiii. or in Holland's translation: “Two hills (removed by an earthquake) encountered together, charging as it were, and with violence assaulting one another, and retyring again with a most mighty noise.” Tollet.

Note return to page 872 6&lblank; out of all whooping!] i. e. out of all measure, or reckoning. So, in the old ballad of Yorke, Yorke for my Money, &c. 1584: “And then was shooting, out of cry, “The skantling at a handful nie.” Again, in the old bl. l. comedy called Common Conditions: “I have beraed myself out of cry.” Steevens. This appears to have been a phrase of the same import as another formerly in use, “out of all cry.” The latter seems to allude to the custom of giving notice by a crier of things to be sold. So, in A Chaste Maide of Cheapside, a comedy by T. Middleton, 1630: “I'll sell all at an outcry.” Malone. An outcry is still a provincial term for an auction. Steevens.

Note return to page 873 7Good my complexion!] This is a mode of expression, Mr. Theobald says, which he cannot reconcile to common sense. Like enough: and so too the Oxford editor. But the meaning is— Hold good my complexion, i. e. let me not blush. Warburton. “Good my complexion!” My native character, my female inquisitive disposition, canst thou endure this! For thus characterizing the most beautiful part of the creation, let our author answer. Malone. “Good my complexion!” is a little unmeaning exclamatory address to her beauty; in the nature of a small oath. Ritson.

Note return to page 874 8One inch of delay more is a South-sea-of discovery.] This is stark nonsense; we must read—off discovery, i. e. from discovery. “If you delay me one inch of time longer, I shall think this secret as far from discovery as the South-sea is.” Warburton. This sentence is rightly noted by the commentator as nonsense, but not so happily restored to sense. I read thus:—One inch of delay more is a South-sea. Discover, I pr'ythee; tell me who is it quickly!—When the transcriber had once made discovery from discover I, he easily put an article after South-sea. But it may be read with still less change, and with equal probability— Every inch of delay more is a South-sea discovery:— Every delay, however short, is to me tedious and irksome as the longest voyage, as a voyage of discovery on the South-sea. How much voyages to the South-sea, on which the English had then first ventured, engaged the conversation of that time, may be easily imagined. Johnson. Of for off, is frequent in the elder writers. A South-sea of discovery is a discovery a South-sea off—as far as the South-sea. Farmer. Warburton's sophistication ought to have been reprobated, and the old, which is the only reading that can preserve the sense of Rosalind, restored. A “South-sea of discovery,” is not a discovery, as far off, but as comprehensive as the South-sea; which, being the largest in the world, affords the widest scope for exercising curiosity. Henley. The old copy has—of discovery; and of, as Dr. Farmer has observed, was frequently used instead of off in Shakspeare's time: yet the construction of “South-sea off discovery” is so harsh, that I am strongly inclined to think, with Dr. Johnson, that we should read—a South-sea discovery. “Delay, however short, is to me tedious and irksome as the longest voyage, as a voyage of discovery on the South-Sea.” The word of, which had occurred just before, might have been inadvertently repeated by the compositor. Malone.

Note return to page 875 9&lblank; speak sad brow, and true maid.] i. e. speak with a grave countenance, and as truly as thou art a virgin; speak seriously and honestly. Ritson.

Note return to page 876 1Wherein went he?] In what manner was he clothed? How did he go dressed? Heath.

Note return to page 877 2&lblank; Garagantua's mouth &lblank;] Rosalind requires nine questions to be answered in one word. Celia tells her that a word of such magnitude is too big for any mouth but that of Garagantua, the giant of Rabelais. Johnson. Garagantua swallowed five pilgrims, their staves and all, in a sallad. It appears from the books of the Stationers' Company, that in 1592 was published, “Garagantua his Prophecie.” And in 1594, “A booke entitled, The History of Garagantua.” The book of Garagantua is likewise mentioned in Laneham's Narative of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kenelworth-Castle, in 1575. Some translator of one of these pieces is censured by Hall, in his second book of Satires: “But who conjur'd, &c. “Or wicked Rablais dronken revellings “To grace the misrule of our tavernings?” Steevens.

Note return to page 878 3&lblank; to count atomies,] Atomies are those minute particles discernible in a stream of sunshine that breaks into a darkened room. Henley. “An atomie, (says Bullokar, in his English Expositor, 1616,) is a mote flying in the sunne. Any thing so small that it cannot be made lesse.” Malone.

Note return to page 879 4&lblank; when it drops forth such fruit.] The old copy reads— “when it drops forth fruit.” The word such was supplied by the editor of the second folio. I once suspected the phrase, “when it drops forth,” to be corrupt; but it is certainly our author's; for it occurs again in this play: “&lblank; woman's gentle brain “Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention.” This passage serves likewise to support the emendation that has been made. Malone.

Note return to page 880 5&lblank; such a sight, it well becomes the ground.] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; Such a sight as this “Becomes the field,”— Steevens.

Note return to page 881 6Cry, holla! to thy tongue,] The old copy has—the tongue. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Holla was a term of the manege, by which the rider restrained and stopp'd his horse. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “What recketh he his rider's angry stir, “His flattering holla, or his stand, I say?” The word is again used in Othello, in the same sense as here: “Holla! stand there.” Malone. Again, in Cotton's Wonders of the Peak: “But I must give my muse the hola here.” Reed.

Note return to page 882 7&lblank; to kill my heart.] A quibble between heart and hart. Steevens. Our author has the same expression in many other places. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Why that contempt will kill the speaker's heart.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; they have murder'd this poor heart of mine.” But the preceding word, hunter, shows that a quibble was here intended between heart and hart. In our author's time the latter word was often written instead of heart, as it is in the present instance, in the old copy of this play. Malone.

Note return to page 883 *First folio, God buy you.

Note return to page 884 †First folio, moe.

Note return to page 885 8&lblank; but I answer you right painted cloth,] This alludes to the fashion in old tapestry hangings, of mottos and moral sentences from the mouths of the figures worked or painted in them. The poet again hints at this custom, in his poem, called, Tarquin and Lucrece: “Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw, “Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.” Theobald. So, in Barnaby Riche's Soldier's Wishe to Britons Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine Pill, &c. 1604, p. 1; “It is enough for him that can but robbe a painted cloth of a historie, a booke of a discourse, a fool of a fashion,” &c. The same allusion is common to many of our old plays. So, in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “Now will I see if my memory will serve for some proverbs. O, a painted cloth were as well worth a shilling, as a thief is worth a halter.” Again, in A Match at Midnight, 1633: “There's a witty posy for you. “&lblank; No, no; I'll have one shall savour of a saw.— “Why then 'twill smell of the painted cloth.” Again, in The Muses' Looking Glass, by Randolph, 1638: “&lblank; I have seen in Mother Redcap's hall “In painted cloth, the story of the prodigal.” From this last quotation we may suppose that the rooms in publick houses were usually hung with what Falstaff calls water-work. On these hangings, perhaps, moral sentences were depicted as issuing from the mouths of the different characters represented. Again, in Sir Thomas More's English Works, printed by Rastell, 1557: [as Mr. Capell has remarked] “Mayster Thomas More in hys youth devysed in hys father's house in London, a goodly hangyng of fyne paynted clothe, with nine pageauntes, and verses over every of those pageauntes; which verses expressed and declared what the ymages in those pageauntes represented: and also in those pageauntes were paynted the thynges that the verses over them dyd (in effecte) declare.” Of the present phraseology there is an instance in King John: “He speaks plain cannon-fire, and bounce, and smoke.” Steevens. I answer you right painted cloth, may mean, I give you a true painted cloth answer; as we say, she talks right Billingsgate: that is, exactly such language as is used at Billingsgate. Johnson. This singular phrase may be justified by another of the same kind in King Henry V.: “I speak to thee plain soldier.” Again, in Twelfth-Night: “He speaks nothing but madman.” There is no need of Sir T. Hanmer's alteration: “I answer you right in the style of painted cloth.” We had before in this play, “It is the right butter-woman's rate to market.” So, in Golding's translation of Ovid, 1567: “&lblank; the look of it was right a maiden's look.” I suppose Orlando means to say, that Jaques's questions have no more of novelty or shrewdness in them than the trite maxims of the painted cloth. That moral sentences were wrought in these painted cloths, is ascertained by the following passage in A Dialogue both pleasaunt and pitifull, &c. by Dr. Willyam Bulleyne, 1564, (sign. H 5.) which has been already quoted: “This is a comelie parlour,—and faire clothes, with pleasaunte borders aboute the same, with many wise sayings painted upon them.” The following lines, which are found in a book with this fantastick title,— No Whipping nor Tripping, but a Kind of Friendly Snipping, octavo, 1601, may serve as a specimen of painted cloth language: “Read what is written on the painted cloth: “Do no man wrong; be good unto the poor; “Beware the mouse, the maggot and the moth, “And ever have an eye unto the door; “Trust not a fool, a villain, nor a whore; “Go neat, not gay, and spend but as you spare; “And turn the colt to pasture with the mare;” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 886 9&lblank; no breather in the world,] So, in our author's 81st Sonnet: “When all the breathers of this world are dead. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “She shows a body, rather than a life; “A statue, than a breather.” Malone.

Note return to page 887 1Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract, &c] And yet, in Much Ado about Nothing, our author tells us, “Time goes on crutches, till love hath all his rites.” In both passages, however, the interim is equally represented as tedious, and unpleasant. Malone.

Note return to page 888 2&lblank; removed &lblank;] i. e. remote, sequestered. Reed. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, folio, 1623: “From Athens is her house remov'd seven leagues.” Steevens.

Note return to page 889 3&lblank; in-land man;] Is used in this play for one civilised, in opposition to the rustick of the priest. So, Orlando, before: “Yet am I inland bred, and know some nurture.” Johnson. See Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1598: “His presence made the rudest peasant melt, “That in the vast uplandish countrie dwelt.” Again, in Puttenham's Arte of Poesie, 4to. 1589, fol. 120: “&lblank; or finally in any uplandish village or corner of a realm, where is no resort but of poor rusticall or uncivill people.” Malone. Again, in Chapman's version of the 24th Iliad: “&lblank; but lion-like, uplandish, and meere wilde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 890 4&lblank; a blue eye,] i. e. a blueness about the eyes. Steevens.

Note return to page 891 5&lblank; an unquestionable spirit;] That is, a spirit not inquisitive, a mind indifferent to common objects, and negligent of common occurrences. Here Shakspeare has used a passive for an active mode of speech: so, in a former scene, “The Duke is too disputable for me,” that is, too disputatious. Johnson. May it not mean, unwilling to be conversed with? Chamier. Mr. Chamier is right in supposing that it means a spirit averse to conversation. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Demetrius says to Helena— “I will not stay your question.” And, in The Merchant of Venice, Antonio says— “I pray you, think you question with the Jew.” In the very next scene, Rosalind says—“I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him.” And in the last scene, Jaques de Bois says—“The Duke was converted after some question with a religious man.” In all which places, question means discourse or conversation. M. Mason.

Note return to page 892 6&lblank; your having &lblank;] Having is possession, estate. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “The gentleman is of no having.” Steevens. So, in Macbeth: “Of noble having and of royal hope.” Boswell.

Note return to page 893 7&lblank; Then your hose should be ungarter'd, &c.] These seem to have been the established and characteristical marks by which the votaries of love were denoted in the time of Shakspeare. So, in The Fair Maid of the Exchange, by Heywood, 1637: “Shall I, that have jested at love's sighs, now raise whirlwinds! Shall I, that have flouted ah me's once a quarter, now practise ah me's every minute? Shall I defy hat-bands, and tread garters and shoe-strings under my feet? Shall I fall to falling bands, and be a ruffian no longer? I must; I am now liegeman to Cupid, and have read all these informations in the book of his statutes.” Again, in A Pleasant Comedy how to chuse a Good Wife from a Bad, 1602: “&lblank; I was once like thee “A sigher, melancholy humoris, “Crosser of arms, a goer without garters, “A hat-band hater, and a busk-point wearer.” Malone.

Note return to page 894 8&lblank; point-device &lblank;] i. e. exact, drest with finical nicety. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “I hate such insociable and point-device companions.” Steevens.

Note return to page 895 9&lblank; a moonish youth,] i. e. variable. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “O swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 896 1&lblank; to a living humour of madness;] If this be the true reading, we must by living understand lasting, or permanent; but I cannot forbear to think that some antithesis was intended which is now lost; perhaps the passage stood thus—I drove my suitor from a dying humour of love to a living humour of madness. Or rather thus—From a mad humour of love to a loving humour of madness, that is,—From a madness that was love, to a love that was madness. This seems somewhat harsh and strained, but such modes of speech are not unusual in our poet; and this harshness was probably the cause of the corruption. Johnson. Perhaps we should read—to a humour of loving madness. Farmer. Both the emendations appear to me inconsistent with the tenour of Rosalind's argument. Rosalind by her fantastick tricks did not drive her suitor either into a loving humour of madness, or a humour of loving madness; (in which he was originally without her aid;) but she drove him from love into a sequester'd and melancholy retirement. A living humour of madness is, I conceive, in our author's licentious language, a humour of living madness, a mad humour that operates on the mode of living; or, in other words, and more accurately, a mad humour of life; “&lblank; to forswear the world, and to live in a nook merely monastick.” Malone.

Note return to page 897 2&lblank; as clean as a sound sheep's heart,] This is no very delicate comparison, though produced by Rosalind in her assumed character of a shepherd. A sheep's heart, before it is drest, is always split and washed, that the blood within it may be dislodged. Steevens.

Note return to page 898 3&lblank; Audrey;] Is a corruption of Etheldreda. The saint of that name is so styled in ancient calendars. Steevens.

Note return to page 899 4Doth my simple feature content you?] Says the Clown to Audrey. “Your features! (replies the wench,) Lord warrant us! what features?” I doubt not, this should be—your feature! Lord warrant us! what's feature? Farmer. Feat and feature, perhaps, had anciently the same meaning. The Clown asks, if the features of his face content her, she takes the word in another sense, i. e. feats, deeds, and in her reply seems to mean, what feats, i. e. what have we done yet? The courtship of Audrey and her gallant had not proceeded further, as Sir Wilful Witwood says, than a little mouth-glue; but she supposes him to be talking of something which as yet he had not performed. Or the jest may turn only on the Clown's pronunciation. In some parts, features might be pronounced, faitors, which signify rascals, low wretches. Pistol uses the word in The Second Part of King Henry IV. and Spenser very frequently. Steevens. In Daniel's Cleopatra, 1594, is the following couplet: “I see then, artless feature can content, “And that true beauty needs no ornament.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy: “It is my fault, not she, that merits blame; “My feature is not to content her sight; “My words are rude, and work her no delight.” Feature appears to have formerly signified the whole countenance. So, in King Henry VI. P. I.: “Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, “Approves her fit for none but for a king.” Malone.

Note return to page 900 5&lblank; as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.] Capricious is not here humoursome, fantastical, &c. but lascivious. Hor. Epod. 10. Libidinosus immolabitur caper. The Goths are the Getæ. Ovid. Trist. v. 7. The thatch'd house is that of Baucis and Philemon. Ovid. Met. viii. 630. Stipulis et canna tecta palustri. Upton. Mr. Upton is, perhaps, too refined in his interpretation of capricious. Our author remembered that caper was the Latin for a goat, and thence chose this epithet. This, I believe, is the whole. There is a poor quibble between goats and Goths. Malone.

Note return to page 901 6&lblank; ill-inhabited!] i. e. ill-lodged. An unusual sense of the word. A similar phrase occurs in Reynolds's God's Revenge against Murder, book v. hist. 21: “Pieria's heart is not so ill-lodged, nor her extraction and quality so contemptible, but that she is very sensible of her disgrace.” Again, in The Golden Legend, Wynkyn de Worde's edit. fol. 196: “I am ryghtwysnes that am enhabited here, and this hous is myne, and thou art not ryghtwyse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 902 7&lblank; it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room:] Nothing was ever wrote in higher humour than this simile. “A great reckoning, in a little room,” implies that the entertainment was mean, and the bill extravagant. The poet here alluded to the French proverbial phrase of “the quarter of an hour of Rabelais:” who said, “there was only one quarter of an hour in human life passed ill, and that was between the calling for the reckoning and paying it.” Yet the delicacy of our Oxford editor would correct this into, “It strikes a man more dead than a great reeking in a little room.” This is amending with a vengeance. When men are joking together in a merry humour, all are disposed to laugh. One of the company says a good thing: the jest is not taken; all are silent; and he who said it, quite confounded. This is compared to a tavern jollity interrupted by the coming in of a great reckoning. Had not Shakspeare reason now in this case to apply his simile to his own case, against his critical editor? Who, it is plain, taking the phrase to strike dead, in a literal sense, concluded, from his knowledge in philosophy, that it could not be so effectually done by a reckoning as by a reeking. Warburton.

Note return to page 903 8&lblank; and what they swear in poetry, &c.] This sentence seems perplexed and inconsequent: perhaps it were better read thus— What they swear as lovers, they may be said to feign as poets. Johnson. I would read—It may be said, as lovers they do feign. M. Mason.

Note return to page 904 9A material fool!] A fool with matter in him; a fool stocked with notions. Johnson. So, in Chapman's version of the 24th Iliad: “&lblank; his speech even charm'd his eares, “So order'd, so materiall.—” Steevens.

Note return to page 905 1&lblank; I am foul.] By foul is meant coy or frowning. Hanmer. I rather believe foul to be put for the rustick pronunciation of full. Audrey, supposing the Clown to have spoken of her as a foul slut, says, naturally enough, “I am not a slut, though, I thank the gods, I am foul, i. e. full.” She was more likely to thank the gods for a belly-full, than for her being coy or frowning. Tyrwhitt. Audrey says, she is not fair, i. e. handsome, and therefore prays the gods to make her honest. The Clown tells her that to cast honesty away upon a foul slut, (i. e. an ill-favoured dirty creature,) is to put meat in an unclean dish. She replies, she is no slut, (no dirty drab,) though, in her great simplicity, she thanks the gods for her foulness, (homelyness,) i. e. for being as she is. “Well, (adds he,) praised be the gods for thy foulness, sluttishness may come hereafter.” Ritson. I think that, by foul, Audrey means, not fair, or what we call homely. Audrey is neither coy or ill-humoured; but she thanks God for her homeliness, as it rendered her less exposed to temptation. So, in the next scene but one, Rosalind says to Phebe— “Foul is most foul, being foul, to be a scoffer.” M. Mason. I believe Mr. Mason's interpretation to be the true one. So, in Abraham's Sacrifice, 1577: “The fayre, the fowle, the crooked, and the right.” So, also in Gaiscoigne's Steele Glasse: “&lblank; Those that love to see themselves “How fowle or fayre soever that they be.” Malone. That foul retained the meaning in which it is used here, as low down as Pope, we find by the following lines in The Wife of Bath: “If fair, though chaste, she cannot long abide, “By pressing youth attack'd on every side; “If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures.” Talbot.

Note return to page 906 2&lblank; what though?] What then? Johnson.

Note return to page 907 3&lblank; the rascal.] Lean, poor deer, are called rascal deer. Harris.

Note return to page 908 4&lblank; defence &lblank;] Defence, as here opposed to “no skill,” signifies the art of fencing. Thus, in Hamlet: “&lblank; and gave you such a masterly report, for arts and exercise in your defence.”

Note return to page 909 5&lblank; sir Oliver:] He that has taken his first degree at the university, is in the academical style called Dominus, and in common language was heretofore termed Sir. This was not always a word of contempt; the graduates assumed it in their own writings; so Trevisa the historian writes himself Syr John de Trevisa. Johnson. We find the same title bestowed on many divines in our old comedies. So, in Wily Beguiled: “&lblank; Sir John cannot tend to it at evening prayer; for there comes a company of players to town on Sunday in the afternoon, and Sir John is so good a fellow, that I know he'll scarce leave their company, to say evening prayer.” Again:“We'll all go to church together, and so save Sir John a labour.” See notes on The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. I. Steevens. Degrees were at this time considered as the highest dignities; and it may not be improper to observe, that a clergyman, who hath not been educated at the universities, is still distinguished in some parts of North Wales, by the appellation of Sir John, Sir William, &c. Hence the Sir Hugh Evans of Shakspeare is not a Welsh knight who hath taken orders, but only a Welsh clergyman without any regular degree from either of the universities. See Barrington's Hystory of the Guedir Family. Nichols.

Note return to page 910 5&lblank; God'ild you &lblank;] i. e. God yield you, God reward you. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “And the gods yield you for't!” See notes on Macbeth, Act I. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 911 6&lblank; his bow,] i. e. his yoke. The ancient yoke in form resembled a bow. See note on The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act V. Sc. V. Steevens. Mr. Steevens refers the reader to a note of Mr. Mason's on the line: “See you these husband? do not these fair yokes &lblank;.” Boswell.

Note return to page 912 7Not—O sweet Oliver, O brave, &c.] Some words of an old ballad. Warburton. Of this speech as it now appears, I can make nothing, and think nothing can be made. In the same breath he calls his mistress to be married, and sends away the man that should marry them. Dr. Warburton has very happily observed, that O sweet Oliver is a quotation from an old song; I believe there are two quotations put in opposition to each other. For wind I read wend, the old word for go. Perhaps the whole passage may be regulated thus: Clo. I am not in the mind, but it were better for me to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well: and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.—Come, sweet Audrey; we must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. [They whisper. Clo. Farewell, good sir Oliver, not O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, leave me not behind thee,—but   Wend away,   Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee to-day. Of this conjecture the reader may take as much as shall appear necessary to the sense, or conducive to the humour. I have received all but the additional words. The song seems to be complete without them. Johnson. The Clown dismisses Sir Oliver only because Jaques had alarmed his pride, and raised his doubts, concerning the validity of a marriage solemnized by one who appears only in the character of an itinerant preacher. He intends afterwards to have recourse to some other of more dignity in the same profession. Dr. Johnson's opinion, that the latter part of the Clown's speech is only a repetition from some other ballad, or perhaps a different part of the same, is, I believe, just. O brave Oliver, leave me not behind you, is a quotation at the beginning of one of N. Breton's Letters, in his Packet, &c. 1600. Steevens. That Touchstone is influenced by the counsel of Jaques, may be inferred from the subsequent dialogue between the former and Audrey, Act V. Sc. I.: “Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. “Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.” Malone. “O sweet Oliver.” The epithet of sweet seems to have been peculiarly appropriated to Oliver, for which, perhaps, he was originally obliged to the old song before us. No more of it, however, than these two lines has as yet been produced. See Ben Jonson's Underwood: “All the mad Rolands and sweet Olivers.” And, in Every Man in His Humour, p. 88, is the same allusion: “Do not stink, sweet Oliver.” Tyrwhitt. In the books of the Stationers' Company, Aug. 6, 1584, was entered, by Richard Jones, the ballad of, “O sweete Olyver “Leave me not behinde thee.” Again, “The answere of O Sweete Olyver.” Again, in 1586: “O Sweete Olyver altered to the Scriptures.” Steevens. I often find a part of this song applied to Cromwell. In a paper called, A Man in the Moon, Discovering a World of Knavery under the Sun, “the juncto will go near to give us the baggage, if O brave Oliver come not suddenly to relieve them.” The same allusion is met with in Cleveland. Wind away and wind off are still used provincially: and, I believe, nothing but the provincial pronunciation is wanting to join the parts together. I read: Not—O sweet Oliver!   O brave Oliver! Leave me not behi' thee—   But—wind away,   Begone, I say, I will not to wedding wi' thee. Farmer. To produce the necessary rhyme, and conform to the pronunciation of Shakspeare's native county, I have followed Dr. Farmer's direction. Wind is used for wend in Cæsar and Pompey, 1607: “Winde we then, Antony, with this royal queen.” Again, in the MS. romance of the Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 63: “And we shalle to-morrowe as stil as stoon, “The Saresyns awake e'r ye wynde.” Steevens. If, according to Dr. Johnson's notion, we consider these lines as separate quotations, there can be no reason why they should rhyme together. Touchstone says in the first place, ‘I will not quote that part of the ballad which says, O sweet Oliver! leave me not behind thee;’ but adds, in the second place, ‘I will rather take that verse which suits my present purposes,’ which was probably the man's answer. ‘Wind away,’ &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 913 8Something browner than Judas's:] See Mr. Tollet's note and mine, on a passage in the fourth scene of the first Act of The Merry Wives of Windsor, from both of which it appears that Judas was constantly represented in ancient painting or tapestry, with red hair and beard. So, in The Insatiate Countess, 1613: “I ever thought by his red beard he would prove a Judas.” Steevens.

Note return to page 914 9I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.] There is much of nature in this petty perverseness of Rosalind: she finds fault in her lover, in hope to be contradicted; and when Celia in sportive malice too readily seconds her accusations, she contradicts herself, rather than suffer her favourite to want a vindication. Johnson.

Note return to page 915 1&lblank; as the touch of holy bread.] We should read beard, that is, as the kiss of an holy saint or hermit, called the kiss of charity. This makes the comparison just and decent; the other impious and absurd. Warburton.

Note return to page 916 2&lblank; a pair of cast lips of Diana:] i. e. a pair left off by Diana. Theobald.

Note return to page 917 3&lblank; a nun of winter's sisterhood &lblank;] This is finely expressed. But Mr. Theobald says, the words give him no ideas. And it is certain, that words will never give men what nature has denied them. However, to mend the matter, he substitutes Winifred's sisterhood. And after so happy a thought, it was to no purpose to tell him there was no religious order of what denomination. The plain truth is, Shakspeare meant an unfruitful sisterhood, which had devoted itself to chastity. For as those who were of the sisterhood of the spring, were the votaries of Venus; those of summer, the votaries of Ceres; those of autumn, of Pomona: so these of the sisterhood of winter were the votaries of Diana; called, of winter, because that quarter is not, like the other three, productive of fruit or increase. On this account it is, that when the poet speaks of what is most poor, he instances it in winter, in these fine lines of Othello: “But riches fineless is as poor as winter “To him that ever fears he shall be poor.” The other property of winter, that made him term them of its sisterhood, is its coldness. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “To be a barren sister all your life, “Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.” Warburton. There is certainly no need of Theobald's conjecture, as Dr. Warburton has most effectually supported the old reading. In one circumstance, however, he is mistaken. The Golden Legend, p. ccci, &c. gives a full account of St. Winifred and her sisterhood. Edit. by Wynkyn de Worde, 1527. Steevens.

Note return to page 918 4&lblank; as concave as a cover'd goblet,] Why a cover'd? Because a goblet is never kept cover'd but when empty. Shakspeare never throws out his expressions at random. Warburton. Warburton asks, “Why a covered goblet?”—and answers, “Because a goblet is never covered but when empty.” If that be the case, the cover is of little use; for when empty, it may as well be uncovered. But it is the idea of hollowness, not that of emptiness, that Shakspeare wishes to convey; and a goblet is more completely hollow when covered, than when it is not. M. Mason.

Note return to page 919 5&lblank; much question &lblank;] i. e. conversation. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “You may as well use question with the wolf.” Steevens.

Note return to page 920 6&lblank; quite traverse, athwart, &c.] An unexperienced lover is here compared to a puny tilter, to whom it was a disgrace to have his lance broken across, as it was a mark either of want of courage or address. This happened when the horse flew on one side, in the career: and hence, I suppose, arose the jocular proverbial phrase of spurring the horse only on one side. Now as breaking the lance against his adversary's breast, in a direct line, was honourable, so the breaking it across against his breast was, for the reason above, dishonourable: hence it is, that Sidney, in his Arcadia, speaking of the mock-combat of Clinias and Dametas, says: “The wind took such hold of his staff that it crost quite over his breast,” &c.—And to break across was the usual phrase, as appears from some wretched verses of the same author, speaking of an unskilful tilter: “Methought some staves he mist: if so, not much amiss: “For when he most did hit, he ever yet did miss. “One said he brake across, full well it so might be,” &c. This is the allusion. So that Orlando, a young gallant, affecting the fashion, (for brave is here used, as in other places, for fashionable,) is represented either unskilful in courtship, or timorous. The lover's meeting or appointment corresponds to the tilter's career; and as the one breaks staves, the other breaks oaths. The business is only meeting fairly, and doing both with address: and 'tis for the want of this, that Orlando is blamed. Warburton. So, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “&lblank; melancholick like a tilter, that had broke his staves foul before his mistress.” Steevens. “A puny tilter, that—breaks his staff like a noble goose:” Sir Thomas Hanmer altered this to a nose-quill'd goose, but no one seems to have regarded the alteration. Certainly nose-quill'd is an epithet likely to be corrupted: it gives the image wanted, and may in a great measure be supported by a quotation from Turberville's Falconrie: “Take with you a ducke, and slip one of her wing feathers, and having thrust it through her nares, throw her out unto your hawke.” Farmer. Again, in Philaster, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “He shall for this time only be seel'd up “With a feather through his nose, that he may only “See heaven,” &c. Again, in the Booke of Hawkyng, Huntyng, and Fishing, &c. bl. 1. no date: “&lblank; and with a pen put it in the haukes nares once or twice,” &c. Again, in Philemon Holland's translation of the tenth Book of Pliny's Natural History, 1601, p. 300: “It is good moreover to draw a little quill or feather through their nostrills acrosse,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 921 7&lblank; of his lover;] i. e. of his mistress. Lover, in our author's time, being applied to the female as well as the male sex. Thus one of his poems containing the lamentation of a despairing maiden is entitled A Lover's Complaint. So, in Measure for Measure, Act I. Sc. V.: “Your brother and his lover have embraced.” Malone.

Note return to page 922 8&lblank; Will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?] This is spoken of the executioner. He lives, indeed, by bloody drops, if you will: but how does he die by bloody drops? The poet must certainly have wrote: &lblank; that deals and lives, &c. i. e. that gets his bread by, and makes a trade of cutting off heads; but the Oxford editor makes it plainer. He reads: “Than he that lives and thrives by bloody drops.” Warburton. Either Dr. Warburton's emendation, except that the word deals, wants its proper construction, or that of Sir Tho. Hanmer, may serve the purpose; but I believe they have fixed corruption upon the wrong word, and should rather read: Than he that dies his lips by bloody drops? Will you speak with more sternness than the executioner, whose lips are used to be sprinkled with blood? The mention of drops implies some part that must be sprinkled rather than dipped. Johnson. I am afraid our bard is at his quibbles again. To die, means as well to dip a thing in a colour foreign to its own, as to expire. In this sense, contemptible as it is, the executioner may be said to die as well as live by bloody drops. Shakspeare is fond of opposing these terms to each other. In King John is a play on words, not unlike this: “&lblank; all with purple hands “Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes.” Camden has preserved an epitaph on a dyer, which has the same turn: “He that dyed so oft in sport, “Dyed at last, no colour for't.” So, Heywood, in his Epigrams, 1562: “Is thy husband a dyer, woman? alack, “Had he no colour to die thee on but black? “Dieth he oft? yea too oft when customers call; “But I would have him one day die once for all. “Were he gone, dyer never more would I wed, “Dyers be ever dying, but never dead.” Again, Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589: “We once sported upon a country fellow, who came to run for the best game, and was by his occupation a dyer, and had very big swelling legs. “He is but coarse to run a course,   “Whose shanks are bigger than his thigh: “Yet is his luck a little worse   “That often dyes before he die.” “Where ye see the words course and die used in divers senses, one giving the rebound to the other.” Steevens. He that lives and dies, i. e. he who, to the very end of his life, continues a common executioner. So, in the second scene of the fifth Act of this play: “live and die a shepherd.” Tollet. To die and live by a thing is to be constant to it, to persevere in it to the end. Lives, therefore, does not signify is maintained, but the two verbs taken together mean—who is all his life conversant with bloody drops. Musgrave.

Note return to page 923 9'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,] Sure for surely. Douce.

Note return to page 924 1&lblank; lean but upon a rush,] But, which is not in the old copy, was added, for the sake of the metre, by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 925 2The cicatrice and capable impressure &lblank;] Cicatrice is here not very properly used; it is the scar of a wound. Capable impressure, hollow mark. Johnson. Capable, I believe, means here—perceptible. Our author often uses the word for intelligent; (see a note on Hamlet,— “His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, “Would make them capable.”) Hence, with his usual licence, for intelligible, and then for perceptible. Malone.

Note return to page 926 3&lblank; power of fancy,] Fancy is here used for love, as before, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Johnson.

Note return to page 927 4&lblank; Who might be your mother,] It is common for the poets to express cruelty by saying, of those who commit it, that they were born of rocks, or suckled by tigresses. Johnson.

Note return to page 928 5That you insult, exult, and all at once,] If the speaker intended to accuse the person spoken to only for insulting and exulting; then, instead of—all at once, it ought to have been, both at once. But, by examining the crime of the person accused, we shall discover that the line is to be read thus: That you insult, exult, and rail at once. For these three things Phebe was guilty of. But the Oxford editor improves it, and, for rail at once, reads domineer. Warburton. I see no need of emendation. The speaker may mean thus: Who might be your mother, that you insult, exult, and that too all in a breath? Such is, perhaps, the meaning of all at once. Steevens.

Note return to page 929 6&lblank; What though you have more beauty,] The old copy reads: “&lblank; What though you have no beauty.” Steevens. Though all the printed copies agree in this reading, it is very accurately observed to me, by an ingenious unknown correspondent, who signs himself L. H. (and to whom I can only here make my acknowledgement) that the negative ought to be left out. Theobald. That no is a misprint, appears clearly from the passage in Lodge's Rosalynde, which Shakspeare has here imitated: “Sometimes have I seen high disdaine turned to hot desires.—Because thou art beautiful, be not so coy; as there is nothing more faire, so there is nothing more fading.”—Mr. Theobald corrected the error, by expunging the word no; in which he was copied by the subsequent editors; but omission, (as I have often observed,) is, of all the modes of emendation, the most exceptionable. No was, I believe, a misprint for mo, a word often used by our author and his contemporaries for more. So, in a former scene of this play: “I pray you, mar no mo of my verses with reading them ill-favour'dly.” Again, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Sing no more ditties, sing no mo.” Again, in The Tempest: “Mo widows of this business making &lblank;.” Many other instances might be added. The word is found in almost every book of that age. As no is here printed instead of mo, so in Romeo and Juliet, Act V. we find in the folio, 1623, Mo matter for No matter. This correction being less violent than Mr. Theobald's, I have inserted it in the text. “What though I should allow you had more beauty than he, (says Rosalind,) though by my faith,” &c. (for such is the force of As in the next line) “must you therefore treat him with disdain?” In Antony and Cleopatra we meet with a passage constructed nearly in the same manner: “&lblank; Say, this becomes him, “(As his composure must be rare indeed “Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet,” &c. Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “But say that he or we, (as neither have,) “Receiv'd that sum,” &c. Again, more appositely, in Camden's Remaines, p. 190, edit. 1605: “I force not of such fooleries; but if I have any skill in sooth-saying, (as in sooth I have none,) it doth prognosticate that I shall change copie from a duke to a king,” Malone. As mo, (unless rhyme demands it,) is but an indolent abbreviation of more, I have adopted Mr. Malone's conjecture, without his manner of spelling the word in question. If mo were right, how happens it that more should occur twice afterwards in the same speech? Steevens. I have no doubt that the original reading, [no beauty,] is right. It is conformable to the whole tenor of Rosalind's speech, particularly to the line: “Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.” That mo, (or more) was not the word used, is proved by the passage: “You are a thousand times a properer man, “Than she a woman.” Talbot.

Note return to page 930 7Of nature's sale-work:] Those works that nature makes up carelessly and without exactness. The allusion is to the practice of mechanics, whose work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance-customers, or to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work. Warburton.

Note return to page 931 8That can entame my spirits to your worship.] So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 932 9Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.] The sense is, The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers. Johnson.

Note return to page 933 1&lblank; with her foulness,] So, Sir Tho. Hanmer; the other editions—your foulness. Johnson.

Note return to page 934 2&lblank; though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as he.] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. Johnson.

Note return to page 935 3Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?] The second of these lines is from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1637, sign. B b. where it stands thus: “Where both deliberate, the love is slight: “Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?” This line is likewise quoted in Belvidere, or the Garden of the Muses, 1610, p. 29, and in England's Parnassus, printed in 1600, p. 261. Steevens. This poem of Marlowe's was so popular, (as appears from many of the contemporary writers,) that a quotation from it must have been known at once, at least by the more enlightened part of the audience. Our author has again alluded to it in the Two Gentlemen of Verona.—The “dead shepherd,” Marlowe, died in 1592. The first two sestiads of Hero and Leander, being the whole that Marlowe had finished, were published in 1598. The work was completed by Chapman, and printed in 1600. Malone.

Note return to page 936 4To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then A scatter'd smile,] Perhaps Shakspeare owed this image to the second chapter of the book of Ruth:—“Let fall some handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 937 5That the old carlot once was master of.] i. e. peasant, from carl or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage. Douce.

Note return to page 938 6&lblank; a peevish boy:] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies weak, silly. So, in King Richard III.: “When Richmond was a little peevish boy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 939 7He is not tall: yet for his years he's tall:] The old copy reads: “He is not very tall,” &c. For the sake of metre, I have omitted the useless adverb—very. Steevens.

Note return to page 940 8&lblank; the constant red, and mingled damask.] “Constant red” is uniform red. “Mingled damask” is the silk of that name, in which, by a various direction of the threads, many lighter shades of the same colour are exhibited. Steevens.

Note return to page 941 9I have more cause &lblank;] I, which seems to have been inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 942 1&lblank; let me be better &lblank;] Be, which is wanting in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 943 2&lblank; which is nice;] i. e. silly, trifling. So, in King Richard III.: “But the respects thereof are nice and trivial.” See a note on Romeo and Juliet, Act V. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 944 3&lblank; my often rumination wraps me, in a most humorous sadness.] The old copy reads and points thus: “&lblank; and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness.” I have omitted the word in where it first occurs, and have connected the beginning of this passage with what went before, which, I think, makes the meaning clear. Malone. As this speech concludes with a sentence at once ungrammatical and obscure, I have changed a single letter in it; and instead of “in a most humorous sadness,” have ventured to read, “is a most humorous sadness.” Jaques first informs Rosalind what his melancholy was not; and naturally concludes by telling her what the quality of it is. To obtain a clear meaning, a less degree of violence cannot be employed. Steevens.

Note return to page 945 4&lblank; disable &lblank;] i. e. undervalue. So afterwards: “he disabled my judgment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 946 5&lblank; swam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes lost their religion. The fashion of travelling, which prevailed very much in our author's time, was considered by the wiser men as one of the principal causes of corrupt manners. It was, therefore, gravely censured by Ascham, in his Schoolmaster, and by Bishop Hall, in his Quo Vadis; and is here, and in other passages, ridiculed by Shakspeare. Johnson.

Note return to page 947 6&lblank; than you can make a woman.] Old copy—“you make a woman.” Corrected by Sir T. Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 948 7&lblank; a Rosalind of a better leer than you.] i. e. of a better feature, complexion, or colour, than you. So, in P. Holland's Pliny, b. xxxi. c. ii. p. 403: “In some places there is no other thing bred or growing, but brown and duskish, insomuch as not only the cattel is all of that lere, but also the corn on the ground,” &c. The word seems to be derived from the Saxon Hleare, facies, frons, vultus. So it is used in Titus Andronicus, Act IV. Sc. II.: “Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer.” Tollet. In the notes on the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, vol. iv. p. 320, lere is supposed to mean skin. So, in Isumbras MSS. Cott. cal. ii. fol. 129: “His lady is white as whales bone, “Here lere bryghte to se upon,   “So fair as blosme on tre.” Steevens.

Note return to page 949 8&lblank; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss.] Thus also in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 511: “&lblank; and when he hath pumped his wittes dry, and can say no more, kissing and colling are never out of season.” Steevens.

Note return to page 950 9&lblank; (God warn us!)] If this exclamation (which occurs again in the quarto copies of A Midsummer-Night's Dream) is not a corruption of—“God ward us,” i. e. defend us, it must mean, “summon us to himself.” So, in King Richard III.; “And sent to warn them to his royal presence.” Steevens.

Note return to page 951 1&lblank; chroniclers of that age &lblank;] Sir T. Hanmer reads—coroners, by the advice, as Dr. Warburton hints, of some anonymous critick. Johnson. Mr. Edwards proposes the same emendation, and supports it by a passage in Hamlet: “The coroner hath sat on her, and finds it—Christian burial.” I believe, however, the old copy is right; though found is undoubtedly used in its forensick sense. Malone. I am surprised that Sir Thomas Hanmer's just and ingenious amendment should not be adopted as soon as suggested. The allusion is evidently to a coroner's inquest, which Rosalind supposes to have sat upon the body of Leander, who was drowned in crossing the Hellespont, and that their verdict was, that Hero of Sestos was the cause of his death. The word found is the legal term on such occasions. We say, that a jury found it lunacy, or found it manslaughter; and the verdict is called the finding of the jury. M. Mason.

Note return to page 952 2&lblank; There a girl goes before the priest;] The old copy reads —“There's a girl,” &c. The emendation in the text was proposed to me long ago by Dr. Farmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 953 3&lblank; I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain,] The allusion is to the cross in Cheapside; the religious images, with which it was ornamented, being defaced, (as we learn from Stowe,) in 1596: “There was then set up, a curious wrought tabernacle of gray marble, and in the same an alabaster image of Diana, and water conveyed from the Thames, prilling from her naked breast.” Stowe, in Cheap Ward. Statues, and particularly that of Diana, with water conveyed through them to give them the appearance of weeping figures, were anciently a frequent ornament of fountains. So, in The City Match, Act III. Sc. III.: “&lblank; Now could I cry “Like any image in a fountain, which “Runs lamentations.” And again, in Rosamond's Epistle to Henry II. by Drayton: “Here in the garden, wrought by curious hands, “Naked Diana in the fountain stands.” Whalley.

Note return to page 954 4&lblank; I will laugh like a hyen,] The bark of the hyena was anciently supposed to resemble a loud laugh. So, in Wesbter's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: “&lblank; Methinks I see her laughing, “Excellent Hyena!” Again, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “You laugh hyena-like, weep like a crocodile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 955 5&lblank; Make the doors &lblank;] This is an expression used in several of the midland counties, instead of bar the doors. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “The doors are made against you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 956 6&lblank; Wit, whither wilt?] This must be some allusion to a story well known at that time, though now perhaps irretrievable. Johnson. This was an exclamation much in use, when any one was either talking nonsense, or usurping a greater share in conversation than justly belonged to him. So, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “My sweet, Wit whither wilt thou, my delicate poetical fury,” &c. Again, in Heywood's Royal King, 1637: “Wit:—is the word strange to you? Wit?—” “Whither wilt thou?” Again, in the Preface to Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1621: “Wit whither wilt thou? woe is me, “Thou hast brought me to this miserie.” The same expression occurs more than once in Taylor the water-poet, and seems to have been the title of some ludicrous performance. Steevens. If I remember right, these are the first words of an old madrigal. Malone.

Note return to page 957 7You shall never take her without her answer,] See Chaucer's Marchantes Tale, ver. 10,138–10,149: “Ye, sire, quod Proserpine, and wol ye so? “Now by my modre Ceres soule I swere, “That I shall yeve hire suffisant answere, “And alle women after for hire sake; “That though they ben in any gilt ytake, “With face bold they shul hemselve excuse, “And bere hem doun that wolden hem accuse. “For lack of answere, non of us shall dien. “Al had ye seen a thing with bothe youre eyen, “Yet shul we so visage it hardely, “And wepe and swere and chiden subtilly, “That ye shul ben as lewed as ben gees.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 958 8&lblank; make her fault her husband's occasion,] That is, represent her fault as occasioned by her husband. Sir T. Hanmer reads, her husband's accusation. Johnson.

Note return to page 959 9&lblank; I will think you the most pathetical break-promise,] The same epithet occurs again in Love's Labour's Lost, and with as little apparent meaning: “&lblank; most pathetical nit.” Again, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1590: “&lblank; having no patheticall impression in my head, I had flat fallen into a slumber.” Steevens. I believe, by “pathetical break-promise,” Rosalind means a lover whose falsehood would most deeply affect his mistress. Malone. May not pathetical have meant contemptible. We now use pitiful in a like sense. Talbot.

Note return to page 960 1&lblank; time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try:] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “And that old common arbitrator, Time, “Will one day end it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 961 2&lblank; to her own nest.] So, in Lodge's Rosalynde: And “I pray you (quoth Aliena) if your own robes were off, what mettal are you made of, that you are so satyricall against women? Is it not a foule bird defiles her owne nest?” Steevens.

Note return to page 962 3&lblank; begot of thought,] That is, of melancholy. See a note in Twelfth Night, Act II. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; she pin'd in thought.” Malone. So, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; take thought, and die for Cæsar.” Steevens.

Note return to page 963 4&lblank; I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come.] So, in Macbeth: “Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there “Weep our sad bosoms empty.” Steevens.

Note return to page 964 5His leather skin, and horns to wear.] Shakspeare seems to have formed this song on a hint afforded by the novel which furnished him with the plot of his play. “What news, Forrester? Hast thou wounded some deere, and lost him in the fall? Care not, man, for so small a losse; thy fees was but the skinne, the shoulders, and the horns.” Lodge's Rosalynde, or Euphues's Golden Legacie, 1592. For this quotation the reader is indebted to Mr. Malone. So likewise in an ancient MS. entitled The Boke of Huntyng, that is cleped Mayster of Game: “And as of fees, it is to wite that what man that smyte a dere atte his tree with a dethes stroke, and he be recouered by sonne going doune, he shall haue the skyn,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 965 6Then sing him home:] In Playford's Musical Companion, 1673, where this song is to be found set to musick, the words “Then sing him home” are omitted. From this we may suppose, that they were not then supposed to form any part of the song itself, but spoken by one of the persons as a direction to the rest to commence the chorus. It should be observed, that in the old copy, the words in question, and those which the modern editors have regarded as a stage direction, are given as one line: “Then sing him home; the rest shall bear this burthen.” Boswell.

Note return to page 966 7Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn;] In King John in two parts, 1591, a play which our author had, without doubt, attentively read, we find these lines: “But let the foolish Frenchman take no scorn, “If Philip front him with an English horn.” Malone. Thus also, in the old comedy of Grim the Collier of Croydon (date unknown): “&lblank; Unless your great infernal majesty “Do solemnly proclaim, no devil shall scorn “Hereafter still to wear the goodly horn.” To take scorn is a phrase that occurs in K. Henry VI. P. I. Act IV. Sc. IV.: “And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending.” Steevens.

Note return to page 967 7The foregoing noisy scene was introduced to fill up an interval, which is to represent two hours. This contraction of the time we might impute to poor Rosalind's impatience, but that a few minutes after we find Orlando sending his excuse. I do not see that by any probable division of the Acts this absurdity can be obviated. Johnson.

Note return to page 968 8&lblank; and here much Orlando!] Thus the old copy. Some of the modern editors read, but without the least authority: “I wonder much, Orlando is not here.” Steevens. The word much should be explained. It is an expression of latitude, and taken in various senses. “Here's much Orlando!” i. e. Here is no Orlando, or we may look for him. We have still this use of it, as when we say, speaking of a person who we suspect will not keep his appointment, “Ay, you will be sure to see him there much!” Whalley. So the vulgar yet say, “I shall get much by that no doubt,” meaning that they shall get nothing. Malone. “Here much Orlando!” is spoken ironically on Rosalind's perceiving that Orlando had failed in his engagement. Holt White.

Note return to page 969 9&lblank; bid me &lblank;] The old copy redundantly reads—did bid me. Steevens.

Note return to page 970 1Patience herself would startle at this letter, And play the swaggerer;] So, in Measure for Measure: “This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 971 2Phebe did write it. Ros. Come, come, you are a fool.— I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colour'd hand;] As this passage now stands, the metre of the first line is imperfect, and the sense of the whole; for why should Rosalind dwell so much upon Phebe's hands, unless Silvius had said something about them?—I have no doubt but the line originally run thus: Phebe did write it with her own fair hand. And then Rosalind's reply will naturally follow. M. Mason.

Note return to page 972 3&lblank; woman's gentle brain &lblank;] Old copy—women's. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 973 4&lblank; vengence &lblank;] Is used for mischief. Johnson.

Note return to page 974 5&lblank; youth and kind &lblank;] Kind is the old word for nature. Johnson. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 975 6&lblank; all that I can make;] i. e. raise as profit from any thing. So, in Measure for Measure: “He's in for a commodity of brown paper; of which he made five marks ready money.” Steevens.

Note return to page 976 7&lblank; I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,] This term was, in our author's time, frequently used to express a poor contemptible fellow. So, in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “&lblank; and you, poor snakes, come seldom to a booty.” Again, in Lord Cromwell, 1602: “&lblank; the poorest snake, “That feeds on lemons, pilchards &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 977 8&lblank; purlieus of this forest,] Purlieu, says Manwood's Treatise on the Forest Laws, c. xx. “Is a certaine territorie of ground adjoyning unto the forest, meared and bounded with unmoveable marks, meeres, and boundaries: which territories of ground was also forest, and afterwards disaforested againe by the perambulations made for the severing of the new forest from the old.” Reed. Bullokar, in his Expositor, 1616, describes a purlieu as “a place neere joining to a forest, where it is lawful for the owner of the ground to hunt, if he can dispend fortie shillings by the yeere, of freeland.” Malone.

Note return to page 978 9Left on your right hand,] i. e. passing by the rank of oziers, and leaving them on your right hand, you will reach the place. Malone.

Note return to page 979 1&lblank; bestows himself Like a ripe sister:] Of this quaint phraseology there is an example in King Henry IV. P. II: “How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours?” Steevens.

Note return to page 980 2&lblank; but the woman low,] But, which is not in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio, to supply the metre. I suspect it is not the word omitted, but have nothing better to propose. Malone.

Note return to page 981 3&lblank; napkin;] i. e. handkerchief. Ray says, that a pocket handkerchief is so called about Sheffield, in Yorkshire. So, in Greene's Never Too Late, 1616: “I can wet one of my new lockram napkins with weeping.” Napery, indeed, signifies linen in general. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “&lblank; pr'ythee put me into wholesome napery.” Again, in Chapman's May-Day, 1611: “Besides your munition of manchet napery plates.” Naperia, Ital. Steevens. Napkin is still a handkerchief in Scotland, and probably in all the northern English counties. Boswell.

Note return to page 982 4Within an hour;] We must read—within two hours. Johnson. May not within an hour signify within a certain time? Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 983 5&lblank; of sweet and bitter fancy,] i. e. love, which is always thus described by our old poets, as composed of contraries. See a note on Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. II. p. 18. So, in Lodge's Rosalynde, 1590: “I have noted the variable disposition of fancy,—a bitter pleasure wrapt in sweet prejudice.” Malone.

Note return to page 984 6Under an oak, &c.] The ancient copy reads—“under an old oak;” but as this epithet hurts the measure, without improvement of the sense, (for we are told in the same line that its “boughs were moss'd with age,” and afterwards, that its top was “bald with dry antiquity,”) I have omitted old, as an unquestionable interpolation. Steevens. “Under an oak,” &c. The passage stands thus in Lodge's novel: “Saladyne, wearie with wandring up and downe, and hungry with long fasting, finding a little cave by the side of a thicket, eating such fruite as the forrest did affoord, and contenting himself with such drinke as nature had provided, and thirst made delicate, after his repast he fell into a dead sleepe. As thus he lay, a hungry lyon came hunting downe the edge of the grove for pray, and espying Saladyne, began to ceaze upon him: but seeing he lay still without any motion, he left to touch him, for that lyons hate to pray on dead carkasses: and yet desirous to have some foode, the lyon lay downe and watcht to see if he would stirre. While thus Saladyne slept secure, fortune that was careful of her champion, began to smile, and brought it so to passe, that Rosader (having stricken a deere that but lightly hurt fled through the thicket) came pacing downe by the grove with a boare-speare in his hande in great haste, he spyed where a man lay asleepe, and a lyon fast by him: amazed at this sight, as he stood gazing, his nose on the sodaine bledde, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his. Whereupon drawing more nigh, he might easily discerne his visage, and perceived by his phisnomie that it was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader into a deepe passion, as a man perplexed, &c.—But the present time craved no such doubting ambages: for he must eyther resolve to hazard his life for his reliefe, or else steale away and leave him to the crueltie of the lyon. In which doubt hee thus briefly debated,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 985 7A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,] So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “&lblank; the starven lioness “When she is dry-suckt of her eager young.” Steevens.

Note return to page 986 8And he did render him &lblank;] i. e. describe him. Malone. So, in Cymbeline: “May drive us to a render where we have liv'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 987 *First folio, amongst.

Note return to page 988 9&lblank; in which hurtling &lblank;] To hurtle is to move with impetuosity and tumult. So, in Julius Cæsar: “A noise of battle hurtled in the air.” Again, in Nashe's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1591: “&lblank; hearing of the gangs of good fellows that hurtled and bustled thither,” &c. Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. iv.: “All hurtlen forth, and she with princely pace,” &c. Again, b. i. c. viii.: “Came hurtling in full fierce, and forc'd the knight retire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 989 1As, how I came into that desert place;] I believe, a line following this has been lost. Malone. As, in this place, signifies—as for instance. So, in Hamlet: “As, stars with trains of fire,” &c. I suspect no omission. Steevens.

Note return to page 990 2Dy'd in this blood;] Thus the old copy. The editor of the second folio changed “this blood” unnecessarily to—his blood. Oliver points to the handkerchief, when he presents it; and Rosalind could not doubt whose blood it was after the account that had been before given. Malone. Perhaps the change of this into his, is imputable only to the compositor, who casually omitted the t. Either reading may serve; and certainly that of the second folio is not the worst, because it prevents the disgusting repetion of the pronoun this, with which the present speech is infested. Steevens.

Note return to page 991 3&lblank; Cousin—Ganymede!] Celia, in her first fright, forgets Rosalind's character and disguise, and calls out cousin, then recollects herself, and says, Ganymede. Johnson.

Note return to page 992 4Ah, sir,] The old copies read—Ah, sirrah, &c. Corrected I believe by Mr. Pope. In my former edition I had inadvertently ascribed this emendation to the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 993 5The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, &c.] This was designed as a sneer on the several trifling and insignificant sayings and actions, recorded of the ancient philosophers, by the writers of their lives, such as Diogenes Laertius. Philostratus, Eunapius, &c. as appears from its being introduced by one of their wise sayings. Warburton. A book called The Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers, was printed by Caxton in 1477. It was translated out of French into English by Lord Rivers. From this performance, or some republication of it, Shakspeare's knowledge of these philosophical trifles might be derived. Steevens.

Note return to page 994 6&lblank; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?] Part of this dialogue seems to have grown out of the novel on which the play is formed: “Phebe is no latice for your lips, and her grapes hang so hie, that gaze at them you may, but touch them you cannot.” Malone.

Note return to page 995 7&lblank; to wit, I kill thee,] The old copy reads—“or, to wit, I kill thee.” I have omitted the impertinent conjunction, or, by the advice of Dr. Farmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 996 8Is't possible, &c.] Shakspeare, by putting this question into the mouth of Orlando, seems to have been aware of the impropriety which he had been guilty of by deserting his original. In Lodge's novel, the elder brother is instrumental in saving Aliena from a band of ruffians, who “thought to steal her away, and to give her to the king for a present, hoping, because the king was a great leacher, by such a gift to purchase all their pardons.” Without the intervention of this circumstance, the passion of Aliena appears to be very hasty indeed. Our author's acquaintance, however, with the manners of heroines in romances, perhaps rendered him occasionally inattentive, as in the present instance, to probability. In The Sowdon of Babyloyne, an ancient MS. often quoted by me on other occasions, I find the following very singular confession from the mouth of a Princess: “Be ye not the duke of Burgoyne sir Gy, “Nevewe unto king Charles so fre? “Noe, certes lady, it is not I, “It is yonder knight that ye may see. “A, him have I loved many a day, “And yet know I him noght, “For his love I do all that I maye, “To chere you with dede and thought.” P. 47. Steevens.

Note return to page 997 9&lblank; nor her sudden consenting;] Old copy—“nor sudden.” Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 998 1And you, fair sister.] I know not why Oliver should call Rosalind sister. He takes her yet to be a man. I suppose we should read—And you, and your fair sister. Johnson. Oliver speaks to her in the character she had assumed, of a woman courted by Orlando his brother. Chamier.

Note return to page 999 2&lblank; never any thing so sudden, but the fight of two rams,] So, in Laneham's Account of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kennelworth Castle, 1575: “&lblank; ootrageous in their racez az rams at their rut.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1000 3&lblank; clubs cannot part them.] It appears from many of our old dramas, that, in our author's time, it was a common custom, on the breaking out of a fray, to call out “Clubs—Clubs,” to part the combatants. So, in Titus Andronicus: “Clubs, clubs; these lovers will not keep the peace.” The preceding words—“they are in the very wrath of love,” show that our author had this in contemplation. Malone. So, in the First Part of King Henry VI. when the Mayor of London is endeavouring to put a stop to the combat between the partisans of Glocester and Winchester, he says: “I'll call for clubs, if you will not away.” And in Henry VIII. the Porter says, “I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out Clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 1001 4&lblank; human as she is,] That is, not a phantom, but the real Rosalind, without any of the danger generally conceived to attend the rites of incantation. Johnson.

Note return to page 1002 5&lblank; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician:] Though I pretend to be a magician, and therefore might be supposed able to elude death. Malone. This explanation cannot be right, as no magician was ever supposed to possess the art of eluding death. Dr. Warburton properly remarks, that this play “was written in King James's time, when there was a severe inquisition after witches and magicians.” It was natural therefore for one who called herself a magician, to allude to the danger, in which her avowal, had it been a serious one, would have involved her. Steevens. That this play was not written in King James's time is certain: for it was entered on the Stationers' books as early as 1600. Yet I am now satisfied, that Mr. Steevens's explanation was the true one; but to pretend to magical powers, would have been quite as dangerous in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, as that of King James. Malone.

Note return to page 1003 6&lblank; bid your friends;] i. e. invite your friends. Reed. So, in Titus Andronicus: “I am not bid to wait upon this bride.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1004 7&lblank; all trial, all observance;] I suspect our author wrote— all obedience. It is highly probable that the compositor caught observance from the line above; and very unlikely that the same word should have been set down twice by Shakspeare so close to each other. Malone. Read—obeisance. The word observance is evidently repeated by an error of the press. Ritson.

Note return to page 1005 8Who do you speak to,] Old copy—Why do you speak too. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 1006 9&lblank; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon.] This is borrowed from Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592: “I tell thee, Montanus, in courting Phœbe, thou barkest with the wolves of Syria, against the moone.” Malone.

Note return to page 1007 1&lblank; a woman of the world.] To go to the world, is to be married. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Thus (says Beatrice) every one goes to the world, but I.” An anonymous writer supposes, that in this phrase there is an allusion to Saint Luke's Gospel, xx. 34: “The children of this world marry, and are given in marriage.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1008 2 The stanzas of this song are in all the editions evidently transposed: as I have regulated them, that which in the former copies was the second stanza is now the last. The same transposition of these stanzas is made by Dr. Thirlby, in a copy containing some notes on the margin, which I have perused by the favour of Sir Edward Walpole. Johnson.

Note return to page 1009 3&lblank; the only pretty rank time,] Thus the modern editors. The old copy reads: “In the spring time, the only pretty rang time.” I think we should read: “In the spring time, the only pretty ring time.” i. e. the aptest season for marriage; or, the word only, for the sake of equality of metre, may be omitted. Steevens. The old copy reads—rang time. The emendation was made by Dr. Johnson. Mr. Pope and the three subsequent editors read—the pretty spring time. Mr. Steevens proposes—“ring time, i. e. the aptest season for marriage.” The passage does not deserve much consideration. Malone. In confirmation of Mr. Steevens's reading, it appears from the old calendars that the spring was the season of marriage. Douce.

Note return to page 1010 4Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.] Though it is thus in all the printed copies, it is evident, from the sequel of the dialogue, that the poet wrote as I have reformed in my text, untimeable.—Time and tune, are frequently misprinted for one another in the old editions of Shakspeare. Theobald. This emendation is received, I think, very undeservedly, by Dr. Warburton. Johnson. The reply of the Page proves to me, beyond any possibility of doubt, that we ought to read untimeable, instead of untuneable, notwithstanding Johnson rejects the amendment as unnecessary. A mistake of a similar nature occurs in Twelfth-Night. M. Mason. The sense of the old reading seems to be—“Though the words of the song were trifling, the musick was not (as might have been expected) good enough to compensate their defect.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1011 5As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.] This strange nonsense should be read thus: As those that fear their hap, and know their fear. i. e. As those that fear the issue of a thing when they know their fear to be well grounded. Warburton. The depravation of this line is evident, but I do not think the learned commentator's emendation very happy. I read thus: As those that fear with hope, and hope with fear. Or thus, with less alteration: As those that fear, they hope, and now they fear. Johnson. The author of The Revisal would read: “As those that fear their hope, and know their fear.” Steevens. Perhaps we might read: “As those that feign they hope, and know they fear. Blackstone. I would read: As those that fear, then hope; and know, then fear. Musgrave. I have little doubt but it should run thus: As those who fearing hope, and hoping fear.” This strongly expresses the state of mind which Orlando was in at that time; and if the words fearing and hoping were contracted in the original copy, and written thus:—fearg—hopg (a practice not unusual at this day) the g might easily have been mistaken for y, a common abbreviation of they. M. Mason. I believe this line requires no other alteration than the addition of a semi-colon: “As those that fear; they hope, and know they fear.” Henley. The meaning, I think, is, As those who fear,—they, even those very persons, entertain hopes, that their fears will not be realized; and yet at the same time they well know that there is reason for their fears. Malone.

Note return to page 1012 6Keep your word, Phebe,] The old copy reads—“Keep you your word;” the compositor's eye having probably glanced on the line next but one above. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 1013 7To make these doubts all even.] Thus, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; yet death we fear, “That makes these odds all even.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1014 8Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, &c.] What strange beasts? and yet such as have a name in all languages? Noah's ark is here alluded to; into which the clean beasts entered by sevens, and the unclean by two, male and female. It is plain then that Shakspeare wrote, ‘here come a pair of unclean beasts,’ which is highly humorous. Warburton. Strange beasts are only what we call odd animals. There is no need of any alteration. Johnson. A passage, somewhat similar, occurs in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1015 9&lblank; trod a measure;] So, in Love's Labour's Lost, Act V. Sc. II.: “To tread a measure with you on this grass.” See note on this passage. Reed. Touchstone, to prove that he has been a courtier, particularly mentions a measure, because it was a very stately solemn dance. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “&lblank; the wedding mannerly modest, as a measure full of state and ancientry.” Malone.

Note return to page 1016 1&lblank; and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.] So, all the copies; but it is apparent, from the sequel, that we must read—the quarrel was not upon the seventh cause. Johnson. By the seventh cause, Touchstone, I apprehend, means the lie seven times-removed; i. e. the retort courteous, which is removed seven times (counted backwards) from the lie direct, the last and most aggravated species of lie. See the subsequent note on the words “&lblank; a lie seven times removed.” Malone.

Note return to page 1017 2God'ild you, sir;] i. e. God yield you, reward you. So, in the Collection of Chester Mysteries, Mercer's play, p. 74, b. MS. Harl. Brit. Mus, 2013: “The high father of heaven, I pray, “To yelde you your good deed to day.” See note on Macbeth, Act I. Sc. VI. Steevens. See before, p. 448 of this play. Woodham.

Note return to page 1018 3&lblank; I desire you of the like.] We should read—I desire of you the like. On the Duke's saying, “I like him very well,” he replies, “I desire you will give me cause, that I may like you too.” Warburton. I have not admitted the alteration, because there are other examples of this mode of expression. Johnson. See a note on the first scene of the third Act of A Midsummer-Night's Dream, vol. v. p. 255, where many examples of this phraseology are given. So also, in Spenser's Faery Queen, book ii. c. ix.: “If it be so, of pardon I pray you.” Again, b. iv. c. viii.: “She dear besought the prince of remedy.” Again, in Heywood's Play of the Wether: “Besechynge your grace of wynde continual.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1019 4&lblank; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks:] To swear according as marriage binds, is to take the oath enjoined in the ceremonial of marriage. Johnson. “&lblank; to swear, and to forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks.” A man, by the marriage ceremony, swears that he will keep only to his wife; when therefore, to gratify his lust, he leaves her for another, blood breaks his matrimonial obligation, and he is forsworn. Henley.

Note return to page 1020 5&lblank; dulcet diseases.] This I do not understand. For diseases it is easy to read discourses: but, perhaps, the fault may lie deeper. Johnson. Perhaps he calls a proverb a disease. Proverbial sayings may appear to him the surfeiting diseases of conversation. They are often the plague of commentators. Dr. Farmer would read—in such dulcet diseases; i. e. in the sweet uneasiness of love, a time when people usually talk nonsense. Steevens. Without staying to examine how far the position last advanced is founded in truth, I shall only add, that I believe the text is right, and that this word is capriciously used for sayings, though neither in its primary or figurative sense it has any relation to that word. In The Merchant of Venice the Clown talks in the same style, but more intelligibly:—“the young gentleman (according to the fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such branches of learning,) is indeed deceased.” Malone.

Note return to page 1021 6Upon a lie seven times removed;] Touchstone here enumerates seven kinds of lies, from the Retort courteous to the seventh and most aggravated species of lie, which he calls the lie direct. The courtier's answer to his intended affront, he expressly tells us, was the Retort courteous, the first species of lie. When therefore, he says, that they found the quarrel was on the lie seven times removed, we must understand by the latter word, the lie removed seven times, counting backwards, (as the word removed seems to intimate,) from the last and most aggravated species of lie, namely, the lie direct. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Who hath some four or five removes come short “To tender it herself.” Again, in the play before us: “Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling,” i. e. so distant from the haunts of men. When Touchstone and the courtier met, they found their quarrel originated on the seventh cause, i. e. on the Retort courteous, or the lie seven times removed. In the course of their altereation, after their meeting, Touchstone did not dare to go farther than the sixth species, (counting in regular progression from the first to the last,) the lie circumstantial; and the courtier was afraid to give him the lie direct; so they parted. In a subsequent enumeration of the degrees of a lie, Touchstone expressly names the Retort courteous, as the first; calling it therefore here “the seventh cause,” and “the lie seven times removed,” he must mean, distant seven times from the most offensive lie, the lie direct. There is certainly, therefore, no need of reading with Dr. Johnson in a former passage—“We found the quarrel was not on the seventh cause.” The misapprehension of that most judicious critick relative to these passages must apologize for my having employed so many words in explaining them. Malone.

Note return to page 1022 7&lblank; seeming,] i. e. seemly. Seeming is often used by Shakspeare for becoming, or fairness of appearance. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; these keep “Seeming and savour all the winter long.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1023 8&lblank; as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard;] This folly is touched upon, with high humour, by Fletcher, in his Queen of Corinth: “&lblank; Has he familiarly “Dislik'd your yellow starch, or said your doubtlet “Was not exactly frenchified?— “&lblank; or drawn your sword, “Cry'd, 'twas ill mounted? Has he given the lie “In circle, or oblique, or semicircle, “Or direct parallel? you must challenge him.” Warburton.

Note return to page 1024 9O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book;] The poet has, in this scene, rallied the mode of formal duelling, then so prevalent, with the highest humour and address: nor could he have treated it with a happier contempt, than by making his Clown so knowing in the forms and preliminaries of it. The particular book here alluded to is a very ridiculous treatise of one Vincentio Saviolo, intitled, Of Honour and Honourable Quarrels, in quarto, printed by Wolf, 1594. The first part of this tract he entitles, A Discourse most necessary for all Gentlemen that have in regard their Honours, touching the giving and receiving the Lie, whereupon the Duello and the Combat in divers Forms doth ensue; and many other Inconveniences, for lack only of true Knowledge of Honour, and the right Understanding of Words, which here is set down. The contents of the several chapters are as follows:—I. What the Reason is that the Party unto whom the Lie is given ought to become Challenger, and of the Nature of Lies. II. Of the Manner and Diversity of Lies. III. Of Lies certain, [or direct.] IV. Of conditional Lies, [or the lie circumstantial.] V. Of the Lie in general. VI. Of the Lie in particular. VII. Of foolish Lies. VIII. A Conclusion touching the wresting or returning back of the Lie, [or the countercheck quarrelsome.] In the chapter of conditional Lies, speaking of the particle if, he says, “&lblank; Conditional lies be such as are given conditionally, as if a man should say or write these wordes:—if thou hast said that I have offered my lord abuse, thou liest; or if thou sayest so hereafter, thou shalt lie. Of these kind of lies, given in this manner, often arise much contention in wordes,—whereof no sure conclusion can arise.” By which he means, they cannot proceed to cut one another's throat, while there is an if between. Which is the reason of Shakspeare making the Clown say, “I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel: but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an if; as, if you said so, then I said so, and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your if is the only peace-maker; much virtue in if.” Caranza was another of these authentick authors upon the Duello. Fletcher, in his last Act of Love's Pilgrimage, ridicules him with much humour. Warburton. The words which I have included within crotchets are Dr. Warburton's. They have hitherto been printed in such a manner as might lead the reader to suppose that they made a part of Saviolo's work. The passage was very inaccurately printed by Dr. Warburton in other respects, but has here been corrected by the original. See also The Booke of Honor and Armes, wherein is dicoursed the Causes of Quarrel and the Nature of Injuries, with their Repulses, &c. 4to. 1590, b. iii. c. 20: “Another way to procure satisfaction is, that hee who gave the lie, shall say or write unto the partie belied to this effect: I pray you advertise me by this bearer, with what intent you spake those words of injurie whereupon I gave you the lie. The other will answere, I spake them in choller, or with no meaning to offend you. Thereunto may be answered by him again that gave the lie thus: If your words were said onelie in anger and no intent to challenge me, then I do assure you that my lie given shall not burthen you, for I acknowledge you to be a true speaker and a gentleman of good reputation: wherefore my desire is that the speech passed between us may be forgotten. This mode of pacification may serve in many cases, and at sundrie occasions.” Malone.

Note return to page 1025 1&lblank; books for good manners:] One of these books I have. It is entitled, The Boke of Nurture, or Schole of good Manners, for Men, Servants, and Children, with stans puer ad mensam; 12mo. black letter, without date. It was written by Hugh Rhodes, a gentleman, or musician, of the Chapel Royal; and was first published in 4to. in the reign of King Edward VI. Steevens. Another is, Galateo of Maister John Casa, Archbishop of Benevento; or rather, a Treatise of the Manners and Behaviours it behoveth a Man to use and eschewe in his familiar Conversation. A Work very necessary and profitable for all Gentlemen or other; translated from the Italian, by Robert Peterson of Lincoln's Inn, 4to. 1576. Reed.

Note return to page 1026 2&lblank; like a stalking-horse,] See my note on Much Ado About Nothing, Act II. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 1027 3Enter Hymen,] Rosalind is imagined by the rest of the company to be brought by enchantment, and is therefore introduced by a supposed aerial being in the character of Hymen. Johnson. In all the allegorical shows exhibited at ancient weddings, Hymen was a constant personage. Ben Jonson, in his Hymenæi, or the Solemnities of Masque and Barriers, at a Marriage, has left instructions how to dress this favourite character. “On the other hand entered Hymen, the god of marriage, in a saffron-coloured robe, his under vestures white, his sockes yellow, a yellow veile of silke on his left arme, his head crowned with roses and marjoram, in his right hand a torch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1028 4That thou might'st join her hand with his, Whose heart within her bosom is.] The old copy, instead of her, reads his in both lines. Mr. Rowe corrected the first, and I once thought that emendation sufficient, and that whose might have referred not to the last antecedent his, but to her, i. e. Rosalind. Our author frequently takes such licences. But on further consideration it appears to me probable, that the same abbreviation was used in both lines, and that as his was certainly a misprint in the first line for her, so it also was in the second, the construction being so much more easy in that way than the other. “That thou might'st join her hand with the hand of him whose heart is lodged in her bosom,” i. e. whose affection she already possesses. So, in Love's Labour's Lost, the King says to the Princess: “Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.” Again, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, “The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest, “He carried thence incaged in his breast.” Again, in King Richard III.: “Even so thy breast incloseth my poor heart.” Again, in Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “Thy heart thou leav'st with her, when thou dost hence depart, “And in thy breast inclosed bear'st her tender friendly heart. In Love's Labour's Lost, vol. iv. p. 412, we meet with the error that has happened here. The Princess addressing the ladies who attend her, says: “But while 'tis spoke, each turn away his face.” Again, in a former scene of the play before us: “Helen's cheek, but not his heart.” Malone.

Note return to page 1029 5If there be truth in sight,] The answer of Phebe makes it probable that Orlando says: “If there be truth in shape:”— that is, if a form may be trusted; if one cannot usurp the form of another. Johnson. If my sight does not deceive me: Phebe's answer will support one word as well as the other. Boswell.

Note return to page 1030 6If truth holds true contents.] That is, if there be truth in truth, unless truth fails of veracity. Johnson.

Note return to page 1031 7&lblank; with questioning;] Though Shakspeare frequently uses question for conversation, in the present instance questioning may have its common and obvious signification. Steevens.

Note return to page 1032 8Wedding is, &c.] Catullus, addressing himself to Hymen, has this stanza: Quæ tuis careat sacris, Non queat dare præsides Terra finibus: at queat Te volente. Quis huic deo Compararier ausit? Johnson.

Note return to page 1033 9&lblank; combine.] Shakspeare is licentious in his use of this verb, which here, as in Measure for Measure, only signifies to bind: “I am combined by a sacred vow, “And shall be absent.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1034 1Duke Frederick, &c.] In Lodge's novel the usurping Duke is not diverted from his purpose by the pious counsel of a hermit, but is subdued and killed by the twelve peers of France, who were brought by the third brother of Rosader (the Orlando of this play) to assist him in the recovery of his right. Steevens.

Note return to page 1035 2To see no pastime, I:—what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.] Amidst this general festivity, the reader may be sorry to take his leave of Jaques, who appears to have no share in it, and remains behind unreconciled to society. He has, however, filled with a gloomy sensibility the space allotted to him in the play, and to the last preserves that respect which is due to him as a consistent character, and an amiable, though solitary moralist. It may be observed, with scarce less concern, that Shakspeare has, on this occasion, forgot old Adam, the servant of Orlando, whose fidelity should have entitled him to notice at the end of the piece, as well as to that happiness which he would naturally have found, in the return of fortune to his master. Steevens. It is the more remarkable, that old Adam is forgotten; since, at the end of the novel, Lodge makes him captaine of the king's guard. Farmer.

Note return to page 1036 3&lblank; no bush,] It appears formerly to have been the custom to hang a tuft of ivy at the door of a vintner. I suppose ivy was rather chosen than any other plant, as it has relation to Bacchus. So, in Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575: “Now a days the good wyne needeth none ivye garland.” Again, in The Rival Friends, 1632: “'Tis like the ivy-bush unto a tavern.” Again, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “Green ivy-bushes at the vintners' doors.” Steevens. The practice is still observed in Warwickshire and the adjoining counties, at statute-hirings, wakes, &c. by people who sell ale at no other time. And hence, I suppose, the Bush tavern at Bristol, and other places. Ritson.

Note return to page 1037 4What a case am I in then, &c.] Here seems to be a chasm, or some other depravation, which destroys the sentiment here intended. The reasoning probably stood thus: ‘Good wine needs no bush, good plays need no epilogue;’ but bad wine requires a good bush, and a bad play a good epilogue. What case am I in then? To restore the words is impossible; all that can be done, without copies, is to note the fault. Johnson. Johnson mistakes the meaning of this passage. Rosalind says, that good plays need no epilogue; yet even good plays do prove the better for a good one. What a case then was she in, who had neither presented them with a good play, nor had a good epilogue to prejudice them in favour of a bad one? M. Mason.

Note return to page 1038 5&lblank; furnished like a beggar,] That is, dressed: so before he was furnished like a huntsman. Johnson.

Note return to page 1039 *First folio, hates.

Note return to page 1040 6&lblank; I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please them: and so I charge you, &c.] The old copy reads—“I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women,— that between you and the women,” &c. Steevens. This passage should be read thus: ‘I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases them: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women,—to like as much as pleases them, that between you and the women,’ &c. Without the alteration of you into them, the invocation is nonsense; and without the addition of the words, to like as much as pleases them, the inference of, that between you and the women the play may pass, would be unsupported by any precedent premises. The words seem to have been struck out by some senseless player, as a vicious redundancy. Warburton. The words you and ym, written as was the custom in that time, were in manuscript scarcely distinguishable. The emendation is very judicious and probable. Johnson. Mr. Heath observes, that if Dr. Warburton's interpolation be admitted, [“to like as much,” &c.] “the men are to like only just as much as pleased the women, and the women only just as much as pleased the men; neither are to like any thing from their own taste: and if both of them disliked the whole, they would each of them equally fulfil what the poet desires of them. But Shakspeare did not write so nonsensically; he desires the women to like as much as pleased the men, and the men to set the ladies a good example; which exhortation to the men is evidently implied in these words, “that between you and the women the play may please.” Mr. Heath, though he objects (I think very properly) to the interpolated sentence, admits by his interpretation the change of “&lblank; pleases you” to “&lblank; pleases them;” which has been adopted by the late editors. I by no means think it necessary; nor is Mr. Heath's exposition, in my opinion, correct. The text is sufficiently clear, without any alteration. Rosalind's address appears to me simply this: “I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to approve of as much of this play as affords you entertainment; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, [not to set an example to, but] to follow or agree in opinion with the ladies; that between you both the play may be successful.” The words “to follow, or agree in opinion with, the ladies” are not, indeed, expressed, but plainly implied in those subsequent; “that, between you and the women, the play may please.” In the epilogue to King Henry IV. Part II. the address to the audience proceeds in the same order: “All the gentlewomen here have forgiven [i. e. are favourable to] me; if the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly.” Mr. Rowe and all the modern editors read—“as pleases you,” and so we should certainly now write, but the phraseology of the text was that of Shakspeare's time. So, in King Richard III.: “Where every horse bears his commanding rein, “And may direct his course, as please himself.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; a pipe for fortune's finger, “To sound what stop she please.” Again, in King Henry VIII: “All men's honours “Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd “Into what pitch he please.” Malone. I read—“and so I charge you, O men,” &c. This trivial addition (as Dr. Farmer joins with me in thinking) clears the whole passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 1041 7If I were a woman,] Note, that in this author's time, the parts of women were always performed by men or boys. Hanmer.

Note return to page 1042 8&lblank; complexions that liked me,] i. e. that I liked. So again in Hamlet: “This likes me well.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1043 9&lblank; breaths that I defied not:] This passage serves to manifest the indelicacy of the time in which the plays of Shakspeare were written. Such an idea, started by a modern dramatist, and put into the mouth of a female character, would be hooted with indignation from the stage. Steevens.

Note return to page 1044 1Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give away their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven for the heroism of her friendship. The character of Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comick dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low buffoonery than in some other plays; and the graver part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to the end of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson in which he might have found matter worthy of his highest powers. Johnson.

Note return to page 1045 10206001See p. 370. “Is but a quintaine,” &c. Dr. Warburton's explanation would, I think, have been less exceptionable, had it been more simple: yet he is here charged with a fault of which he is seldom guilty—want of refinement. “This (says Mr. Guthrie) is but an imperfect (to call it no worse) explanation of a beautiful passage. The quintaine was not the object of the darts and arms; it was a stake, driven into a field, upon which were hung a shield and trophies of war, at which they shot, darted, or rode with a lance. When the shield and trophies were all thrown down, the quintaine remained. Without this information, how could the reader understand the allusion of— “&lblank; my better parts “Are all thrown down.”— In the present edition I have avoided, as much as possible, all kind of controversy; but in those cases where errors, by having been long adopted, are become inveterate, it becomes in some measure necessary to the enforcement of truth. It is a common, but a very dangerous mistake, to suppose that the interpretation which gives most spirit to a passage is the true one. In consequence of this notion, two passages of our author, one in Macbeth, and another in Othello, have been refined, as I conceive, into a meaning that I believe was not in his thoughts. If the most spirited interpretation that can be imagined happens to be inconsistent with his general manner, and the phraseology both of him and his contemporaries, or to be founded on a custom which did not exist in his age, most assuredly it is a false interpretation. Of the latter kind is Mr. Guthrie's explanation of the passage before us. The military exercise of the quintaine is as ancient as the time of the Romans; and we find from Matthew Paris, that it subsisted in England in the thirteenth century. “Tentoria variis ornamentorum generibus venustantur; terræ infixis, sudibus scuta apponuntur, quibus in crastinum quintanæ ludus, scilicet equestris, exerceretur.” M. Paris, ad ann. 1253. These probably were the very words that Mr. Guthrie had in contemplation. But Matthew Paris made no part of Shakspeare's library; nor is it at all material to our present point what were the customs of any century preceding that in which he lived. In his time, without any doubt, the quintaine was not a military exercise of tilting, but a mere rustic sport. So Minshieu, in his Dict. 1617: “A quintaine or quintelle, a game in request at marriages, when Jac and Tom, Dick, Hob and Will, strive for the gay garland.” So also, Randolph at somewhat a later period [Poems, 1642]: “Foot-ball with us may be with them [the Spaniards] balloone; “As they at tilts, so we at quintaine runne; “And those old pastimes relish best with me, “That have least art, and most simplicitie.” But old Stowe has put this matter beyond a doubt; for in his Survey of London, printed only two years before this play appeared, he has given us the figure of a quintaine, as here represented. “I have seen (says he) a quinten set up on Cornehill, by the Leaden Hall, where the attendants on the lords of merry disports have runne, and made greate pastime; for hee that hit not the broad end of the quinten was of all men laughed to scorne; and hee that hit it full, if he rid not the faster, had a sound blow in his necke with a bagge full of sand hanged on the other end.” Here we see were no shields hung, no trophies of war to to be thrown down. “The great design of the sport, (says Dr. Plott, in his History of Oxfordshire), is to try both man and horse, and to break the board; which whoever does, is for the time Princeps juventutis.” Shakspeare's similes seldom correspond on both sides. “My better parts being all thrown down, my youthful spirit being subdued by the power of beauty, I am now (says Orlando) as inanimate as a wooden quintaine is (not when its better parts are thrown down, but as that lifeless block is at all times).” Such, perhaps, is the meaning. If, however, the words “better parts,” are to be applied to the quintaine, as well as to the speaker, the board above-mentioned, and not any shield or trophy, must have been alluded to. Our author has, in Macbeth, used “my better part of man” for manly spirit. “Accursed be the tongue that tells me so, “For it has cow'd my better part of man.” Malone. The explanations of this passage, as well as the accounts of the quintain, are by no means satisfactory; nor have the labours of the critick or the antiquary been exhausted. The whole of Orlando's speech should seem to refer to the quintain, but not to such a one as has been described in any of the preceding notes. Mr. Guthrie is accused of having borrowed his account from Matthew Paris, an author with whom, as it has been already observed, Shakspeare was undoutedly not acquainted; but this charge is erroneous, for no such passage as that above cited is to be found in M. Paris. This writer does indeed speak of the quintain under the year 1253, but in very different words. “Eodem tempore juvenes Londinenses statuto pavone pro bravio ad stadium quod quintena vulgariter dicitur, vires proprias et equorum cursus sunt experti.” He then proceeds to state that some of the King's pages, and others belonging to the household, being offended at these sports, abused the Londoners with foul language, calling them scurvy clowns and greasy rascals, and ventured to dispute the prize with them; the consequence of which was, that the Londoners received them very briskly, and so belaboured their backs with the broken lances, that they were either put to flight, or tumbled from their horses and most terribly bruised. They afterwards went before the King, the tears still trickling from their eyes, and complained of their treatment, beseeching that he would not suffer so great an offence to remain unpunished; and the King, with his usual spirit of revenge, extorted from the citizens a very large fine. So far M. Paris; but Mr. Malone has through some mistake cited Robertus Monachus, who wrote before M. Paris, and has left an extremely curious account of the CrusagesCrusades. He is describing the arrival of some messengers from Babylon, who, upon entering the Christian camp, find to their great astonishment (for they had heard that the Christians were perishing with fear and hunger) the tents curiously ornamented, and the young men practising themselves and their horses in tilting against shields hung upon poles. In the oldest edition of this writer, instead of “quintanæ ludus,” it is “ludus equestris.” However, this is certainly not the quintain that is here wanted, and therefore Mr. Malone has substituted another, copied indeed from a contemporary writer, but still not illustrative of the passage in question. I shall beg leave then to present the reader with some others, from which it will appear, that the quintain was a military exercise in Shakspeare's time, and not a mere rustic sport, as Mr. Malone imagines. No. 1, is copied from an initial letter in an Italian book, printed in 1560. Here is the figure of a man placed upon the trunk of a tree, holding in one hand a shield, in the other a bag of sand. No. 2, is the Saracen quintain from Pluvinel, Instruction du Roi Louis XIII. dans l'Exercice de monter à Cheval. This sort of quintain, according to Menestrier, was invented by the Germans, who, from their frequent wars with the Turks, accustomed their soldiers to point their lances against the figure of their enemy. The skill consisted in shivering the lance to pieces, by striking it against the head of the man, for if it touched the shield, the figure turned round and generally struck the horseman a violent blow with his sword. No. 3, is the Flemish quintain, copied from a print after Wouvermans; it is called La bague Flamande, from the ring which the figure holds in his left hand; and here the object was to take away the ring with the point of the lance, for if it struck any other part, the man turned round and hit the rider with his sand-bag. This is a mixture of the quintain and running at the ring, which two sports have been some how or other in like manner confounded by the Italians, who sometimes express the running at the ring by correre alla quintana. The principle of all these was the same, viz. to avoid the blow of the sword or sand-bag, by striking the quintain in a particular place. It might have been expected that some instance had been given of the use of these quintains in England; and for want of it an objection may be taken to this method of illustrating the present subject: but let it be remembered, that Shakspeare has indiscriminately blended the usages of all nations; that he has oftentimes availed himself of hearsay evidence; and again, that as our manners and customs have at all times been borrowed from the French and other nations, there is every reason to infer that this species of the quintain had found its way into England. It is hardly needful to add, that a knowledge of very many of our ancient sports and domestic employments is not now to be attained. Historians have contented themselves to record the vices of kings and princes, and the minutiæ of battles and sieges; and, with very few exceptions, they have considered the discussion of private manners (a theme perhaps equally interesting to posterity) as beneath their notice, and of little or no importance. As a military sport or exercise, the use of the quintain is very ancient, and may be traced even among the Romans. It is mentioned in Justinian's Code, lib. iii. tit. 43; and its most probable etymology is from “Quintus,” the name of its inventor. In the days of chivalry it was the substitute or rehearsal of tilts and tournaments, and was at length adopted, though in a ruder way, by the common people, becoming amongst them a very favourite amusement. Many instances occur of its use in several parts of France, particularly as a seignorial right exacted from millers, watermen, new-married men, and others; when the party was obliged, under some penalty, to run at the quintain upon Whitsunday and other particular times, at the lord's castle, for his diversion. Sometimes it was practised upon the water, and then the quintain was either placed in a boat, or erected in the middle of the river. Something of this kind is described from Fitzstephen by Stowe in his Survey, p. 143, edit. 1618, 4to. and still continues to be practised upon the Seine at Paris. Froissart mentions, that the shield quintain was used in Ireland in the reign of Richard II. In Wales it is still practised at weddings, and at the village of Offham, near Town Malling in Kent, there is now standing a quintain, resembling that copied from Stowe, opposite the dwelling house of a family that is obliged under some tenure to support it: but I do not find that any use has been ever made of it within the recollection of the inhabitants. Shakspeare then has most probably alluded to that sort of quintain which resembled the human figure; and if this be the case, the speech of Orlando may be thus explained: “I am unable to thank you; for, surprized and subdued by love, my intellectual powers, which are my better parts, fail me; and I resemble the quintain, whose human or active part being thrown down, there remains nothing but the lifeless trunk or block which once upheld it.” Or, if better parts do not refer to the quintain, “that which here stands up” means the human part of the quintain, which may be also not unaptly called a lifeless block. Douce.

Note return to page 1046 10206002“His acts being seven ages.” P. 408. Dr. Warburton observes, that this was “no unusual division of a play before our author's time;” but forbears to offer any one example in support of his assertion. I have carefully perused almost every dramatick piece antecedent to Shakspeare, or contemporary with him; but so far from being divided into acts, they are almost all printed in an unbroken continuity of scenes. I should add, that there is one play of six acts to be met with, and another of twenty-one; but the second of these is a translation from the Spanish, and never could have been designed for the stage. In God's Promises, 1577, “A Tragedie or Enterlude,” (or rather a Mystery,) by John Bale, seven acts may indeed be found. It should, however, be observed, that the intervals in the Greek Tragedy are known to have varied from three acts to seven. Steevens. Dr. Warburton boldly asserts that this was “no unusual division of a play before our author's time.” One of Chapman's plays (Two Wise Men and All the Rest Fools) is indeed in seven acts. This, however, is the only dramatick piece that I have found so divided. But surely it is not necessary to suppose that our author alluded here to any such precise division of the drama. His comparisons seldom run on four feet. It was sufficient for him that a play was distributed into several acts, and that human life, long before his time, had been divided into seven periods. In The Treasury of Ancient and Modern Times, 1613, Proclus, a Greek author, is said to have divided the lifetime of man into seven ages; over each of which one of the seven planets was supposed to rule. “The first age is called Infancy, containing the space of foure yeares.—The second age continueth ten yeares, until he attaine to the yeares of fourteene: this age is called Childhood. —The third age consisteth of eight yeares, being named by our auncients Adolescencie or Youthhood; and it lasteth from fourteene, till two and twenty yeares be fully compleate.—The fourth age paceth on, till a man have accomplished two and forty yeares, and is tearmed Young Manhood.—The fifth age, named Mature Manhood, hath (according to the said authour) fifteene yeares of continuance, and therefore makes his progress so far as six and fifty yeares.—Afterwards, in adding twelve to fifty-sixe, you shall make up sixty-eight yeares, which reach to the end of the sixt age, and is called Old Age.—The seaventh and last of these seven ages is limited from sixty-eight yeares, so far as four-score and eight, being called weak, declining, and Decrepite Age.—If any man chance to goe beyond this age, (which is more admired than noted in many,) you shall evidently perceive that he will returne to his first condition of Infancy againe.” Hippocrates likewise divided the life of man into seven ages, but differs from Proclus in the number of years allotted to each period. See Brown's Vulgar Errors, folio, 1686, p. 173. So also in The Diamant of Devotion, Cut and Squared into Six Severall Points; by Abraham Fleming, 4to, 1586, Part I. “Wee are not placed in this world as continuers; for the scripture saith that we have no abiding citie heere, but as travellers and soiourners, whose custome it is to take up a new inne, and to change their lodging, sometimes here, sometimes there, during the time of their travell. Heere we walke like plaiers uppon a stage, one representing the person of a king, another of a lorde, the third of a plowman, the fourth of an artificer, and so foorth, as the course and order of the enterlude requireth; everie acte whereof beeing plaide, there is no more to doe, but open the gates and dismisse the assemblie. “Even so fareth it with us: for what other thing is the compasse of this world, beautified with varietie of creatures, reasonable and unreasonable, but an ample and large theatre, wherein all things are appointed to play their pageants, which when they have done, they die, and their glorie ceaseth.” Malone. I have seen, more than once, an old print, entitled, The Stage of Man's Life, divided into seven ages. As emblematical representations of this sort were formerly stuck up, both for ornament and instruction, in the generality of houses, it is more probable that Shakspeare took his hint from thence, than from Hippocrates or Proclus. Henley. One of the representations to which Mr. Henley alludes, was formerly in my possession; and considering the use it is of in explaining the passage before us, “I could have better spared a better print.” I well remember that it exhibited the school-boy with his satchell hanging over his shoulder. Steevens.

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