Note return to page 1 1Sir Hugh,] This is the first, of sundry instances in our poet, where a parson is called Sir. Upon which it may be observed, that anciently it was the common designation both of one in holy orders and a knight. Fuller, somewhere in his Church History, says, that anciently there were in England more sirs than knights; and so lately as temp. W. & Mar. in a deposition in the Exchequer in a case of tythes, the witness speaking of the curate, whom he remembered, styles him, Sir Giles. Vide Gibson's View of the State of the Churches of Door, Home-Lacy, &c. p. 36. Sir J. Hawkins. Sir is the designation of a Bachelor of Arts in the Universities of Cambridge and Dublin; but is there always annexed to the surname;—Sir Evans, &c. In consequence, however, of this, all the inferior Clergy in England were distinguished by this title affixed to their christian names for many centuries. Hence our author's Sir Hugh in the present play, Sir Topas in Twelfth Night, Sir Oliver in As You Like It, &c. In the register at Cheltenham there is the following entry: “1574, August 31, Sir John Evans, Curate of Cheltenham, buried.” Malone. Sir seems to have been a title formerly appropriated to such of the inferior clergy as were only Readers of the service, and not admitted to be preachers, and therefore were held in the lowest estimation; as appears from a remarkable passage in Machell's MS. Collections for the History of Westmoreland and Cumberland, in six volumes, folio, preserved in the Dean and Chapter's library at Carlisle. The reverend Thomas Machell, author of the Collections, lived temp. Car. II. Speaking of the little chapel of Martindale in the mountains of Westmoreland and Cumberland, the writer says, “There is little remarkable in or about it, but a neat chapel-yard, which by the peculiar care of the old Reader, Sir Richard* [Subnote: *Richard Berket, Reader, Æt. 74. MS. note.] , is kept clean, and as neat as a bowling-green.” “Within the limits of myne own memory all Readers in chapels were called Sirs† [Subnote: †In the margin is a MS. note seemingly in the hand-writing of Bp. Nicholson, who gave these volumes to the library. “Since I can remember there was not a reader in any chapel but was called Sir.”] , and of old have been writ so; whence, I suppose, such of the laity as received the noble order of knighthood being called Sirs too, for distinction sake had Knight writ after them; which had been superfluous, if the title Sir had been peculiar to them. But now this Sir Richard is the only Knight Templar (if I may so call him) that retains the old style, which in other places is much laid aside, and grown out of use.” Percy. See Mr. Douce's observations on the title “Sir,” (as given to Ecclesiasticks,) at the end of Act V. The length of this curious memoir obliges me to disjoin it from the page to which it naturally belongs. Steevens.

Note return to page 2 2&lblank; a Star-chamber matter of it:] Ben Jonson intimates, that the Star-chamber had a right to take cognizance of such matters. See the Magnetic Lady, Act III. Sc. IV.: “There is a court above, of the Star-chamber, “To punish routs and riots.” Steevens.

Note return to page 3 3&lblank; Cust-alorum.] This is, I suppose, intended for a corruption of Custos Rotulorum. The mistake was hardly designed by the author, who, though he gives Shallow folly enough, makes him rather pedantic than illiterate. If we read: “Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and Custos Rotulorum. It follows naturally: “Slen. Ay, and Ratolorum too.” Johnson. I think, with Dr. Johnson, that this blunder could scarcely be intended. Shallow, we know, had been bred to the law at Clement's Inn. But I would rather read custos only; then Slender adds naturally, “Ay, and rotulorum too.” He had heard the words custos rotulorum, and supposes them to mean different offices. Farmer. Perhaps Shakspeare might have intended to ridicule the abbreviations sometimes used in writs and other legal instruments, with which his Justice might have been acquainted. In the old copy the word is printed Cust-alorum, as it is now exhibited in the text. If, however, this was intended, it should be Cust-ulorum; and, it must be owned, abbreviation by cutting off the beginning of a word is not authorized by any precedent, except what we may suppose to have existed in Shallow's imagination. Malone.

Note return to page 4 4&lblank; who writes himself armigero:] Slender had seen the Justice's attestations, signed “&lblank; jurat' coram me, Roberto Shallow, Armigero;” and therefore takes the ablative for the nominative case of Armiger. Steevens.

Note return to page 5 5Ay, that I do; and have done &lblank;] i. e. all the Shallows have done. Shakspeare has many expressions equally licentious. Malone. “Ay, that we do;” The old copy reads—“that I do.” This emendation was suggested to me by Dr. Farmer. Steevens.

Note return to page 6 6The dozen white louses do become an old coat well; &c.] So, in The Penniless Parliament of thread-bare Poets, 1608: “But amongst all other decrees and statutes by us here set downe, wee ordaine and commaund, that three thinges (if they be not parted) ever to continue in perpetuall amitie, that is, a Louse in an olde doublet, a painted cloth in a painter's shop, and a foole and his bable.” Steevens.

Note return to page 7 7It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love.] This little animal, which Sir Hugh speaks of so kindly, is thus complimented, I suppose, for its fidelity to man; as it does not desert him in distress, but rather sticks more close to him in his adversity. In a Latin tragedy on the subject of Nero by Dr. Matthew Gwinne, 1639, the tyrant exclaims, when deserted by his courtiers: O aulicorum perfidum ingratum genus Nec ut pediculus in crucem domino comes. Boswell.

Note return to page 8 8The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old coat.] That is, the fresh fish is the coat of an ancient family, and the salt fish is the coat of a merchant grown rich by trading over the sea. Johnson. I am not satisfied with any thing that has been offered on this difficult passage. All that Mr. Smith told us was a mere gratis dictum. [His note, being worthless, is here omitted.] I cannot find that salt fish were ever really borne in heraldry. I fancy the latter part of the speech should be given to Sir Hugh, who is at cross purposes with the Justice. Shallow had said just before, the coat is an old one; and now, that it is the luce, the fresh fish. No, replies the parson, it cannot be old and fresh too— “the salt fish is an old coat.” I give this with rather the more confidence, as a similar mistake has happened a little lower in the scene,—“Slice, I say!” cries out Corporal Nym, “Pauca, pauca: Slice! that's my humour.” There can be no doubt, but pauca, pauca, should be spoken by Evans. Again, a little before this, the copies give us: “Slender. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. “Shallow. That he will not—'tis your fault, 'tis your fault:— 'tis a good dog.” Surely it should be thus: “Shallow. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. “Slender. That he will not. “Shallow. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault,” &c. Farmer. This fugitive scrap of Latin, pauca, &c. is used in several old pieces, by characters who have no more of literature about them than Nym. So, Skinke, in Look About You, 1600: “But pauca verba, Skinke.” Again, in Every Man in his Humour, where it is called the bencher's phrase. Steevens. Shakspeare seems to frolick here in his heraldry, with a design not to be easily understood. In Leland's Collectanea, vol. i. part ii. p. 615, the arms of Geffrey de Lucy are “de goules poudre a croisil dor a treis luz dor.” Can the poet mean to quibble upon the word poudré, that is, powdred, which signifies salted; or strewed and sprinkled with any thing? In Measure for Measure, Lucio says—“Ever your fresh whore and your powder'd bawd.” Tollet. The luce is a pike or jack. So, in Chaucer's Prol. of the Cant. Tales, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. pp. 351, 352: “Full many a fair partrich hadde he in mewe, “And many a breme, and many a luce in stewe.” In Ferne's Blazon of Gentry, 1586, quarto, the arms of the Lucy family are represented as an instance, that “signs of the coat should something agree with the name. It is the coat of Geffray Lord Lucy. He did bear gules, three lucies hariant, argent.” Mr. William Oldys, (Norroy King at Arms, and well known from the share he had in compiling the Biographia Britannica, among the collections which he left for a Life of Shakspeare,) observes that—“there was a very aged gentleman living in the neighbourhood of Stratford, (where he died fifty years since,) who had not only heard, from several old people in that town, of Shakspeare's transgression, but could remember the first stanza of the bitter ballad, which, repeating to one of his acquaintance, he preserved it in writing; and here it is, neither better nor worse, but faithfully transcribed from the copy which his relation very courteously communicated to me. “A parliement member, a justice of peace, “At home a poor scare-crowe, at London an asse, “If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, “Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it:     “He thinks himself greate,     “Yet an asse in his state, “We allow by his ears but with asses to mate.   “If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it,   “Sing lowsie Lucy, whatever befall it. “Contemptible as this performance must now appear, at the time when it was written it might have had sufficient power to irritate a vain, weak, and vindictive magistrate; especially as it was affixed to several of his park-gates, and consequently published among his neighbours. It may be remarked likewise, that the jingle on which it turns, occurs in the first scene of The Merry Wives of Windsor.” I may add, that the veracity of the late Mr. Oldys has never yet been impeached: and it is not very probable that a ballad should be forged, from which an undiscovered wag could derive no triumph over antiquarian credulity. Steevens. “The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old coat.” Our author here alludes to the arms of Sir Thomas Lucy, who is said to have prosecuted him in the younger part of his life for a misdemeanor, and who is supposed to be pointed at under the character of Justice Shallow. The text, however, by some carelessness of the printer or transcriber, has been so corrupted, that the passage, as it stands at present, seems inexplicable. Dr. Farmer's regulation appears to me highly probable; and in further support of it, it may be observed, that some other speeches, beside those he has mentioned, are misplaced in a subsequent part of this scene, as exhibited in the first folio. Malone. Perhaps we have not yet conceived the humour of Master Shallow. Slender has observed, that the family might give a dozen white Luces in their coat; to which the Justice adds, “It is an old one.” This produces the Parson's blunder, and Shallow's correction. “The Luce is not the Louse but the Pike, the fresh fish of that name. Indeed our Coat is old, as I said, and the fish cannot be fresh; and therefore we bear the white, i. e. the pickled or salt fish.” In the Northumberland Household Book, we meet with “nine barrels of white herringe for a hole yere, 4. 10. 0:” and Mr. Pennant in the additions to his London says, “By the very high price of the Pike, it is probable that this fish had not yet been introduced into our ponds, but was imported as a luxury, pickled.” It will be still clearer if we read—“though salt fish in an old coat.” Farmer.

Note return to page 9 9The Council shall hear it; it is a riot.] By the Council is only meant the court of Star-chamber, composed chiefly of the king's council sitting in Camerâ stellatâ, which took cognizance of atrocious riots. In the old quarto, “the council shall know it,” follows immediately after “I'll make a Star-chamber matter of it.” Blackstone. So, in Sir John Harrington's Epigrams, 1618: “No marvel, men of such a sumptuous dyet “Were brought into the Star-chamber for a ryot.” Malone. See Stat. 13 Henry IV. c. 7. Grey.

Note return to page 10 1&lblank; your vizaments in that.] Advisement is now an obsolete word. I meet with it in the Ancient Morality of Every Man: “That I may amend me with good advysement.” Again: “I shall smite without any advysement.” Again: “To do with good advysement and delyberacyon.” It is often used by Spenser in his Faery Queen. So, b. ii. c. 9: “Perhaps my succour and advizement meete.” Steevens.

Note return to page 11 2&lblank; which is daughter to master George Page.] The old copy reads—Thomas Page. Steevens. The whole set of editions have negligently blundered one after another in Page's Christian name in this place; though Mrs. Page calls him George afterwards in at least six several passages. Theobald.

Note return to page 12 3&lblank; speaks small like a woman.] This is from the folio of 1623, and is the true reading. He admires her for the sweetness of her voice. But the expression is highly humorous, as making her speaking small like a woman one of her marks of distinction; and the ambiguity of small, which signifies little as well as low, makes the expression still more pleasant. Warburton. Thus, Lear, speaking of Cordelia: “&lblank; Her voice was ever soft, “Gentle and low;—an excellent thing in woman.” Steevens. Dr. Warburton has found more pleasantry here than I believe was intended. Small was, I think, not used, as he supposes, in an ambiguous sense, for “little, as well as low,” but simply for weak, slender, feminine; and the only pleasantry of the passage seems to be, that poor Slender should characterise his mistress by a general quality belonging to her whole sex. In A Midsummer Night's Dream, Quince tells Flute, who objects to playing a woman's part, “You shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.” Malone. A small voice is a soft and melodious voice. Chaucer uses the word in that sense, in The Flower and the Leaf, Speght's edit. p. 611:   “The company answered all, “With voicè sweet entuned, and so small, “That me thought it the sweetest melody.” Again, in Fairfax's Godfrey of Bulloigne, l. 15, st. 62: “She warbled forth a treble small, “And with sweet lookes, her sweet songs enterlaced.” When female characters were filled by boys, to “speak small like a woman” must have been a valuable qualification. So, in Marston's What You Will: “I was solicited to graunt him leave to play the lady in comedies presented by children; but I knew his voice was too small, and his stature too low. Sing a treble, Holofernes;—a very small sweet voice I'le assure you.” Holt White.

Note return to page 13 4Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound? &lblank; I know the young gentlewoman; &c.] These two speeches are by mistake given to Slender in the first folio, the only authentick copy of this play. From the foregoing words it appears that Shallow is the person here addressed; and on a marriage being proposed for his kinsman, he very naturally enquires concerning the lady's fortune. Slender should seem not to know what they are talking about; (except that he just hears the name of Anne Page, and breaks out into a foolish eulogium on her;) for afterwards Shallow says to him,—“Coz, there is, as it were, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here; do you understand me?” to which Slender replies—“if it be so,” &c. The tender, therefore, we see, had been made to Shallow, and not to Slender, the former of which names should be prefixed to the two speeches before us. In this play, as exhibited in the first folio, many of the speeches are given to characters to whom they do not belong. Printers, to save trouble, keep the names of the speakers in each scene ready composed, and are very liable to mistakes, when two names begin (as in the present instance) with the same letter, and are nearly of the same length.—The present regulation was suggested by Mr. Capell. Malone.

Note return to page 14 5&lblank; I love you &lblank;] Thus the 4to. 1619. The folio—“I thank you &lblank;.” Dr. Farmer prefers the first of these readings, which I have therefore placed in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 15 6How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say, he was out-run on Cotsall.] He means Cotswold, in Gloucestershire. In the beginning of the reign of James the First, by permission of the king, one Dover, a public-spirited attorney of Barton on the Heath, in Warwickshire, instituted on the hills of Cotswold an annual celebration of games, consisting of rural sports and exercises. These he constantly conducted in person, well mounted, and accoutred in a suit of his majesty's old clothes; and they were frequented above forty years by the nobility and gentry for sixty miles round, till the grand rebellion abolished every liberal establishment. I have seen a very scarce book, entitled, “Annalia Dubrensia. Upon the yearly celebration of Mr. Robert Dover's Olympick games upon Cotswold hills,” &c. London, 1636, 4to. There are recommendatory verses prefixed, written by Drayton, Jonson, Randolph, and many others, the most eminent wits of the times. The games, as appears from a curious frontispiece, were, chiefly, wrestling, leaping, pitching the bar, handling the pike, dancing of women, various kinds of hunting, and particularly coursing the hare with greyhounds. Hence also we see the meaning of another passage, where Falstaff, or Shallow, calls a stout fellow a Cotswold-man. But, from what is here said, an inference of another kind may be drawn, respecting the age of the play. A meager and imperfect sketch of this comedy was printed in 1602. Afterwards Shakspeare new-wrote it entirely. This allusion therefore to the Cotswold games, not founded till the reign of James the First, ascertains a period of time beyond which our author must have made the additions to his original rough draft, or, in other words, composed the present comedy. James the First came to the crown in the year 1603. And we will suppose that two or three more years at least must have passed before these games could have been effectually established. I would therefore, at the earliest, date this play about the year 1607. T. Warton. The Annalia Dubrensia consists entirely of recommendatory verses. Douce. The Cotswold hills in Gloucestershire are a large tract of downs, famous for their fine turf, and therefore excellent for coursing. I believe there is no village of that name. Blackstone.

Note return to page 16 8&lblank; 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault:] Of these words, which are addressed to Page, the sense is not very clear. Perhaps Shallow means to say, that it is a known failing of Page's not to confess that his dog has been out-run. Or, the meaning may be, 'tis your misfortune that he was out-run on Cotswold; he is, however, a good dog. So perhaps the word is used afterwards by Ford, speaking of his jealousy: “'Tis my fault, master Page; I suffer for it.” Malone. Perhaps Shallow addresses these words to Slender, and means to tell him, “it was his fault to undervalue a dog whose inferiority in the chase was not ascertained.” Steevens.

Note return to page 17 9&lblank; and broke open my lodge.] This probably alludes to some real incident, at the time well known. Johnson. So probably Falstaff's answer. Farmer.

Note return to page 18 1'Twere better for you, if it were known in counsel:] The old copies read—'Twere better for you, if 'twere known in council. Perhaps it is an abrupt speech, and must be read thus:—'Twere better for you—if 'twere known in council, you'll be laughed at. 'Twere better for you, is, I believe, a menace. Johnson. Some of the modern editors arbitrarily read—if 'twere not known in council:—but I believe Falstaff quibbles between council and counsel. The latter signifies secrecy. So, in Hamlet: “The players cannot keep counsel, they'll tell all.” Falstaff's meaning seems to be—'twere better for you if it were known only in secrecy, i. e. among your friends. A more publick complaint would subject you to ridicule. Thus, in Chaucer's Prologue to the Squires Tale, v. 10,305, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit.: “But wete ye what? in conseil be it seyde, “Me reweth sore I am unto hire teyde.” Again, in the ancient MS. Romance of the Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 39: “And saide, sir, for alle loves “Lete me thy prisoners seen, “I wole thee gife both goolde and gloves, “And counsail shall it been.” Again, in Gammer Gurton's Needle, last edit. p. 29: “But first for you in council, I have a word or twaine.” Steevens. Mr. Ritson supposes the present reading to be just, and quite in Falstaff's insolent sneering manner. “It would be much better, indeed, to have it known in the council, where you would only be laughed at.” Reed. The spelling of the old quarto, (counsel,) as well as the general purport of the passage, fully confirms Mr. Steevens's interpretation.—“Shal. Well, the Council shall know it. Fal. 'Twere better for you 'twere known in counsell. You'll be laugh't at.” In an office-book of Sir Heneage Thomas, Treasurer of the Chambers to Queen Elizabeth, (a MS. in the British Museum,) I observe that whenever the Privy Council is mentioned, the word is always spelt Counsel; so that the equivoque was less strained then than it appears now. “Mum is Counsell, viz. silence,” is among Howel's Proverbial Sentences. See his Dict. folio, 1660. Malone.

Note return to page 19 2Good worts! good cabbage.] Worts was the ancient name of all the cabbage kind. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentinian: “Planting of worts and onions, any thing.” Again, in Tho. Lupton's Seventh Booke of Notable Thinges, 4to. bl. l. “&lblank; then anoint the burned place therwith, and lay a woort leafe upon it,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 20 3&lblank; coney-catching rascals,] A coney-catcher was, in the time of Elizabeth, a common name for a cheat or sharper. Green, one of the first among us who made a trade of writing pamphlets, published A Detection of the Frauds and Tricks of Coney-catchers and Couzeners. Johnson. So, in Decker's Satiromastix: “Thou shalt not coney-catch me for five pounds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 21 4They carried me, &c.] These words, which are necessary to introduce what Falstaff says afterwards, [“Pistol, did you pick master Slender's purse?”] I have restored from the early quarto. Of this circumstance, as the play is exhibited in the folio, Sir John could have no knowledge. Malone. We might suppose that Falstaff was already acquainted with this robbery, and had received his share of it, as in the case of the handle of mistress Bridget's fan, Act II. Sc. II. His question, therefore, may be said to arise at once from conscious guilt and pretended ignorance. I have, however, adopted Mr. Malone's restoration. Steevens.

Note return to page 22 5You Banbury cheese!] This is said in allusion to the thin carcase of Slender. The same thought occurs in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “Put off your cloathes, and you are like a Banbury cheese,—nothing but paring.” So Heywood, in his collection of epigrams: “I never saw Banbury cheese thick enough, “But I have oft seen Essex cheese quick enough.” Steevens.

Note return to page 23 6How now, Mephostophilus?] This is the name of a spirit or familiar, in the old story book of Sir John Faustus, or John Faust: to whom our author afterwards alludes, Act II. Sc. II. That it was a cant phrase of abuse, appears from the old comedy cited above, called A Pleasant Comedy of the Gentle Craft, Signat. H 3. “Away you Islington whitepot; hence you hopperarse, you barley-pudding full of maggots, you broiled carbonado: avaunt, avaunt, Mephostophilus.” In the same vein, Bardolph here also calls Slender, “You Banbury cheese.” T. Warton. Pistol means to calls Slender a very ugly fellow. So, in Nosce te, (Humours) by Richard Turner, 1607: “O face, no face hath our Theophilus, “But the right forme of Mephostophilus. “I know 'twould serve, and yet I am no wizard, “To play the Devil i'the vault without a vizard.” Again, in The Muses Looking Glass, 1638: “We want not you to play Mephostophilus. A pretty natural vizard!” Steevens.

Note return to page 24 7Slice, I say! pauca, pauca;] Dr. Farmer (see a former note, p. 10, n. 8,) would transfer the Latin words to Evans. But the old copy, I think, is right, Pistol, in King Henry V. uses the same language: “&lblank; I will hold the quondam Quickly “For the only she; and pauca, there's enough.” In the same scene Nym twice uses the word solus. Malone.

Note return to page 25 8&lblank; that's my humour.] So, in an ancient MS. play, entitled The Second Maiden's Tragedy: “&lblank; I love not to disquiet ghosts, sir, “Of any people living; that's my humour, sir.” See a following note, Act II. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 26 9&lblank; what phrase is this, &c.] Sir Hugh is justified in his censure of this passage by Peacham, who in his Garden of Eloquence, 1577, places this very mode of expression under the article Pleonasmus. Henderson.

Note return to page 27 1&lblank; mill-sixpences,] It appears from a passage in Sir William Davenant's Newes from Plimouth, that these mill-sixpences were used by way of counters to cast up money: “&lblank; A few mill'd sixpences, with which “My purser casts accompt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 28 2&lblank; Edward shovel-boards,] One of these pieces of metal is mentioned in Middleton's comedy of The Roaring Girl, 1611: “&lblank; away slid I my man, like a shovel-board shilling,” &c. Steevens. “Edward shovel-boards,” were the broad shillings of Edward VI. —Taylor, the water-poet, in his Trauel of Twelve-pence, makes him complain: “&lblank; the unthrift every day “With my face downwards do at shoave-board play; “That had I had a beard, you may suppose, “They had worne it off, as they have done my nose.” And in a note he tells us: “Edw. shillings for the most part are used at shoave-board.” Farmer. In the Second Part of King Henry IV. Falstaff says, “Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling.” This confirms Farmer's opinion, that pieces of coin were used for that purpose. M. Mason. The following extract, for the notice of which I am indebted to Dr. Farmer, will ascertain the species of coin mentioned in the text. “I must here take notice before I entirely quit the subject of these last-mentioned shillings, that I have also seen some other pieces of good silver, greatly resembling the same, and of the same date, 1547, that have been so much thicker as to weigh about half an ounce, together with some others that have weighed an ounce.” Folkes's Table of English Silver Coins, p. 32. The former of these were probably what cost Master Slender two shillings and two pence a-piece. Reed. It appears, that the game of shovel-board was played with the shillings of Edward VI. in Shadwell's time; for in his Miser, Act III. Sc. I. Cheatly says, “She persuaded him to play with hazard at backgammon, and he has already lost his Edward shillings that he kept for shovel-board, and was pulling out broad pieces (that have not seen the sun these many years) when I came away.” In Shadwell's Lancashire Witches, vol. iii. p. 232, the game is called shuffle-board. It is still played; and I lately heard a man ask another to go into an alehouse in the Broad Sanctuary, Westminster, to play at it. Douce. That Slender means the broad shilling of one of our kings, appears from comparing these words with the corresponding passage in the old quarto: “Ay by this handkerchief did he;—two faire shovel-board shillings, besides seven groats in mill-sixpences.” How twenty-eight pence could be lost in mill-sixpences, Slender, however, has not explained to us. Malone.

Note return to page 29 3I combat challenge of this latten bilbo:] Pistol, seeing Slender such a slim, puny wight, would intimate, that he is as thin as a plate of that compound metal, which is called latten: and which was, as we are told, the old orichalc. Theobald. Latten is a mixed metal, made of copper and calamine. Malone. The sarcasm intended is, that Slender had neither courage nor strength, as a latten sword has neither edge nor substance. Heath. Latten may signify no more than as thin as a lath. The word in some counties is still pronounced as if there was no h in it: and Ray, in his Dictionary of North Country Words, affirms it to be spelt lat in the North of England. Falstaff threatens, in another play, to drive prince Henry out of his kingdom with a dagger of lath. A latten bilboe means therefore, I believe, no more than a blade as thin as a lath—a vice's dagger. Theobald, however, is right in his assertion that latten was a metal. So Turbervile, in his book of Falcony, 1575: “&lblank; you must set her a latten bason, or a vessel of stone or earth.” Again, in Old Fortunatus, 1600: “Whether it were lead or latten that hasp'd down those winking casements, I know not.” Again, in the old metrical Romance of Syr Bevis of Hampton, bl. l. no date: “Windowes of latin were set with glasse.” Latten is still a common word for tin in the North. Steevens. I believe Theobald has given the true sense of latten, though he is wrong in supposing, that the allusion is to Slender's thinness. It is rather to his softness or weakness. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 30 4Word of denial in thy labras here;] I suppose it should rather be read: “Word of denial in my labras hear;” That is, hear the word of denial in my lips. Thou ly'st. Johnson. We often talk of giving the lie in a man's teeth, or in his throat. Pistol chooses to throw the word of denial in the lips of his adversary, and is supposed to point to them as he speaks. Steevens. There are few words in the old copies more frequently misprinted than the word hear. “Thy labras,” however, is certainly right, as appears from the old quarto: “I do retort the lie even in thy gorge, thy gorge, thy gorge.” Malone.

Note return to page 31 5&lblank; marry trap,] When a man was caught in his own stratagem, I suppose the exclamation of insult was—marry, trap! Johnson.

Note return to page 32 6&lblank; nuthook's humour &lblank;] Nuthook is the reading of the folio. The quarto reads, base humour. If you run the nuthook's humour on me, is, in plain English, if you say I am a thief. Enough is said on the subject of hooking moveables out at windows, in a note on King Henry IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 33 7&lblank; Scarlet and John?] The names of two of Robin Hood's companions; but the humour consists in the allusion to Bardolph's red face; concerning which, see The Second Part of Henry IV. Warburton.

Note return to page 34 8And being fap,] I know not the exact meaning of this cant word, neither have I met with it in any of our old dramatic pieces, which have often proved the best comments on Shakspeare's vulgarisms. Dr. Farmer, indeed, observes, that to fib is to beat; so that being fap may mean being beaten; and cashiered, turned out of company. Steevens The word fap is probably made from vappa, a drunken fellow, or a good-for-nothing fellow, whose virtues are all exhaled. Slender, in his answer, seems to understand that Bardolph had made use of a Latin word: “Ay, you spake in Latin then too;” as Pistol had just before. S. W. It is not probable that any cant term is from the Latin; nor that the word in question was so derived, because Slender mistook it for Latin. The mistake, indeed, is an argument to the contrary, as it shows his ignorance in that language. Fap, however, certainly means drunk, as appears from the glossaries. Douce.

Note return to page 35 9Pass'd the careires.] I believe this strange word is nothing but the French cariere; and the expression means, that the common bounds of good behaviour are overpassed. Johnson. To pass the cariere was a military phrase, or rather perhaps a term of the manege. I find it in one of Sir John Smythe's Discourses, 1589, where, speaking of horses wounded, he says—“they, after the first shrink at the entering of the bullet, doo pass the carriere, as though they had verie little hurt.” Again, in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, b. xxxviii. stanza 35: “To stop, to start, to pass carier, to bound.” Steevens. Bardolph means to say, “and so in the end he reel'd about with a circuitous motion, like a horse, passing a carier.” To pass a carier was a technical term. So, in Nashe's Have with You to Saffron Walden, &c. 1596: “&lblank; her hottest fury may be resembled to the passing of a brave cariere by a Pegasus.” We find the term again used in King Henry V. in the same manner as in the passage before us: “The king is a good king, but—he passes some humours and cariers.” Malone. We are told that this is a technical term in the manege; but no explanation is given. It was the same as running a career, or galloping a horse violently backwards and forwards, stopping him suddenly at the end of the career; “which career the more seldom it be used and with the lesse fury, the better mouth shall your horse have,” says Master Blundeville in his Arte of Riding, b. l. 4to, where there is a whole chapter on the subject, as well as in “The Art of Riding,” translated by Thomas Bedingfield from the Italian of Claudio Corte, 1584, 4to. Douce.

Note return to page 36 1&lblank; my book of Songs and Sonnets here:] It cannot be supposed that poor Slender was himself a poet. He probably means the Poems of Lord Surrey and others, which were very popular in the age of Queen Elizabeth. They were printed in 1567, with this title: “Songes and Sonnettes, written by the Right Honourable Lord Henry Howard, late Earle of Surrey, and others.” Slender laments that he has not this fashionable book about him, supposing it might have assisted him in paying his addresses to Anne Page. Malone. Under the title mentioned by Slender, Churchyard very evidently points out this book in an enumeration of his own pieces, prefixed to a collection of verse and prose, called Churchyard's Challenge, 4to. 1593: “&lblank; and many things in the booke of songes and sonets printed then, were of my making,” By then he means “in Queene Maries raigne;” for Surrey was first published in 1557. Steevens.

Note return to page 37 2&lblank; The Book of Riddles &lblank;] This appears to have been a popular book, and is enumerated with others in The English Courtier, and Country Gentleman, bl. l. 4to. 1586, Sign, II. 4. See quotation in note to Much Ado About Nothing, Act II. Sc. 1. Reed.

Note return to page 38 3&lblank; upon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas?] Sure, Simple's a little out in his reckoning. Allhallowmas is almost five weeks after Michaelmas. But may it not be urged, it is designed Simple should appear thus ignorant, to keep up the character? I think not. The simplest creatures (nay, even naturals,) generally are very precise in the knowledge of festivals, and marking how the seasons run: and therefore I have ventured to suspect our poet wrote Martlemas, as the vulgar call it: which is near a fortnight after All-Saints day, i. e. eleven days, both inclusive. Theobald. This correction, thus seriously and wisely enforced, is received by Sir Thomas Hanmer; but probably Shakspeare intended to blunder. Johnson.

Note return to page 39 4&lblank; the lips is parcel of the mouth;] Thus the old copies. The modern editors read—“parcel of the mind.” To be parcel of any thing, is an expression that often occurs in the old plays. So, in Decker's Satiromastix: “And make damnation parcel of your oath.” Again, in Tamburlaine, 1590: “To make it parcel of my empery.” This passage, however, might have been designed as a ridicule on another, in John Lyly's Midas, 1592: “Pet. What lips hath she? “Li. Tush! Lips are no part of the head, only made for a double-leaf door for the mouth.” Steevens. The word parcel, in this place, seems to be used in the same sense, as it was both formerly and at present in conveyances. “Part, parcel, or member of any estate,” are formal words still to be found in various deeds. Reed.

Note return to page 40 5&lblank; I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt:] The old copy reads—content. Steevens. Certainly, the editors in their sagacity have murdered a jest here. It is designed, no doubt, that Slender should say decrease, instead of increase; and dissolved and dissolutely, instead of resolved and resolutely: but to make him say, on the present occasion, that upon familiarity will grow more content, instead of contempt, is disarming the sentiment of all its salt and humour, and disappointing the audience of a reasonable cause for laughter. Theobald. Theobald's conjecture may be supported by the same intentional blunder in Love's Labour's Lost: “Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 41 6Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. Slen.—Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon my cousin Shallow:] This passage shews that it was formerly the custom in England, as it is now in France, for persons to be attended at dinner by their own servants, wherever they dined. M. Mason.

Note return to page 42 7&lblank; I keep but three men and a boy yet,] As great a fool as the poet has made Slender, it appears, by his boasting of his wealth, his breeding and his courage, that he knew how to win a woman. This is a fine instance of Shakspeare's knowledge of nature. Warburton.

Note return to page 43 8&lblank; a master of fence,] Master of defence, on this occasion, does not simply mean a professor of the art of fencing, but a person who had taken his master's degree in it. I learn from one of the Sloanian MSS. (now in the British Museum, No. 2530, xxvi. d.) which seems to be the fragment of a register formerly belonging to some of our schools where the “Noble Science of Defence,” was taught from the year 1568 to 1583, that in this art there were three degrees, viz. a Master's, a Provost's, and a Scholar's. For each of these a prize was played, as exercises are kept in universities for similar purposes. The weapons they used were the axe, the pike, rapier and target, rapier and cloke, two swords, the two-hand sword, the bastard sword, the dagger and staff, the sword and buckler, the rapier and dagger, &c. The places where they exercised were commonly theatres, halls, or other enclosures sufficient to contain a number of spectators: as Ely-Place in Holborn, the Bell Savage on Ludgate-Hill, the Curtain in Hollywell, the Gray Friars within Newgate, Hampton Court, the Bull in Bishopsgate-Street, the Clink, Duke's Place, Salisbury-Court, Bridewell, the Artillery Garden, &c. &c. &c. Among those who distinguished themselves in this science, I find Tarlton the Comedian, who “was allowed a master” the 23d of October, 1587 [I suppose, either as grand compounder, or by mandamus], he being “ordinary grome of her majesties chamber,” and Robert Greene, who “plaide his maister's prize at Leadenhall with three weapons,” &c. The book from which these extracts are made, is a singular curiosity, as it contains the oaths, customs, regulations, prizes, summonses, &c. of this once fashionable society. K. Henry VIII. K. Edward VI. Philip and Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, were frequent spectators of their skill and activity. Steevens.

Note return to page 44 9&lblank; three veneys for a dish, &c.] i. e. three venues, French. Three different set-to's, bouts, (or hits, as Mr. Malone, perhaps more properly explains the word,) a technical term. So, in our author's Love's Labour's Lost: “A quick venew of wit.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster:—“thou wouldst be loth to play half a dozen venies at Wasters with a good fellow for a broken head.” Again, in The Two Maids of More-clacke, 1609: “This was a pass, 'twas fencer's play, and for the after veny, let me use my skill.” So, in The Famous History, &c. of Capt. Tho. Stukely, 1605: “&lblank; for forfeits and venneys given upon a wager at the ninth button of your doublet.” Again, in the MSS. mentioned in the preceding note, “And at any prize whether it be maister's prize, &c. whosoever doth play agaynste the prizer, and doth strike his blowe and close with all, so that the prizer cannot strike his blowe after agayne, shall wynne no game for any veneye so given, althoughe it shold breake the prizer's head.” Steevens. Slender means to say, that the wager for which he played was a dish of stew'd prunes, which was to be paid by him who received three hits. See Bullokar's English Expositor, 8vo. 1616: “Venie. A touch in the body at playing with weapons.” See also Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: Tocco. A touch or feeling. Also a venie at fence; a hit.” Malone.

Note return to page 45 1That's meat and drink to me now:] Decker has this proverbial phrase in his Satiromastix: “Yes faith, 'tis meat and drink to me.” Whalley. So, in Wily Beguiled: “Lord, 'twould be as good as meat and drinke to me to see how the foole would woe you.” Malone. Touchstone, in As You Like It, uses the same phrase: “It is meat and drink to me to see a clown.” Boswell.

Note return to page 46 2&lblank; Sackerson &lblank;] Seckarson is likewise the name of a bear in the old comedy of Sir Giles Goosecap. Steevens. Sackerson, or Sacarson, was the name of a bear that was exhibited in our author's time at Paris-Garden in Southwark. See an old collection of Epigrams [by Sir John Davies] printed at Middlebourg (without date, but in or before 1598): “Publius, a student of the common law, “To Paris-garden doth himself withdraw; &lblank; “Leaving old Ployden, Dyer, and Broke, alone, “To see old Harry Hunkes and Sacarson.” Sacarson probably had his name from his keeper. So, in the Puritan, a comedy, 1607: “How many dogs do you think I had upon me? Almost as many as George Stone, the bear; three at once.” Malone.

Note return to page 47 3&lblank; that it pass'd:] It pass'd, or this passes, was a way of speaking customary heretofore, to signify the excess, or extraordinary degree of any thing. The sentence completed would be, This passes all expression, or perhaps, This passes all things. We still use passing well, passing strange. Warburton. So, in The Maid of the Mill by Fletcher and Rowley: “Come, follow me, you country lasses, “And you shall see such sport as passes.” Boswell.

Note return to page 48 4By cock and pye,] This was a very popular adjuration, and occurs in many of our old dramatic pieces. See note on Act V. Sc. I. King Henry IV. P. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 49 5&lblank; or his laundry,] Sir Hugh means to say his launder. Thus, in Sidney's Arcadia, b. i. p. 44, edit. 1633: “&lblank; not only will make him an Amazon, but a launder, a spinner,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 50 6&lblank; that altogether's acquaintance &lblank;] The old copy reads— altogethers acquaintance; but should not this be “that altogether's acquaintance,” i. e. that is altogether acquainted? The English, I apprehend, would still be bad enough for Evans. Tyrwhit. I have availed myself of this judicious remark. Steevens.

Note return to page 51 7&lblank; my bully-rook?] The spelling of this word is corrupted, and thereby its primitive meaning is lost. The old plays have generally bully-rook, which is right; and so it is exhibited by the folio edition of this comedy, as well as the 4to. 1619. The latter part of this compound title is taken from the rooks at the game of chess. Steevens. Bully-rook seems to have been the reading of some editions: in others it is bully-rock. Mr. Steevens's explanation of it, as alluding to chess-men, is right. But Shakspeare might possibly have given it bully-rock, as rock is the true name of these men, which is softened or corrupted into rook. There is seemingly more humour in bully-rock. Whalley.

Note return to page 52 8&lblank; Keisar,] The preface to Stowe's Chronicle observes, that the Germans use the K for C, pronouncing Keysar, for Cæsar, their general word for an emperor. Tollet.

Note return to page 53 9&lblank; and Pheezar.] Pheezar was a made word from pheeze. “I'll pheeze you,” says Sly to the Hostess, in The Taming of the Shrew. Malone.

Note return to page 54 1&lblank; said I well,] The learned editor of the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, in 5 vols. 8vo. 1775, observes, that this phrase is given to the host in the Pardonere's Prologue: “Said I not wel? I cannot speke in terme:” v. 12,246. and adds, “it may be sufficient with the other circumstances of general resemblance, to make us believe that Shakspeare, when he drew that character, had not forgotten his Chaucer.” The same gentleman has since informed me, that the passage is not found in any of the ancient printed editions, but only in the MSS Steevens. I imagine this phrase must have reached our author in some other way; for I suspect he did not devote much time to the perusal of old MSS. Malone.

Note return to page 55 2&lblank; Let me see thee froth, and lime:] Thus the quarto; the folio reads—“and live.” This passage had passed through all the editions without suspicion of being corrupted; but the reading of the old quartos of 1602 and 1619, “Let me see thee froth and lime,” I take to be the true one. The Host calls for an immediate specimen of Bardolph's abilities as a tapster; and frothing beer and liming sack were tricks practised in the time of Shakspeare. The first was done by putting soap into the bottom of the tankard when they drew the beer; the other, by mixing lime with the sack (i. e. sherry) to make it sparkle in the glass. Froth and live is sense, but a little forced; and to make it so we must suppose the Host could guess by his dexterity in frothing a pot to make it appear fuller than it was, how he would afterwards succeed in the world. Falstaff himself complains of limed sack. Steevens.

Note return to page 56 3&lblank; a withered servingman, a fresh tapster:] This is no improbably a parody on the old proverb—“A broken apothecary, a new doctor.” See Ray's Proverbs, 3d edit. p. 2. Steevens.

Note return to page 57 4O base Gongarian wight! &c.] This is a parody on a line taken from one of the old bombast plays, beginning, “O base Gongarian, wilt thou the distaff wield?” I had marked the passage down, but forgot to note the play. The folio reads—Hungarian Hungarian is likewise a cant term. So, in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, 1608, the merry Host says, “I have knights and colonels in my house, and must tend the Hungarians.” Again: “Come ye Hungarian pilchers.” Again, in Westward Hoe, 1607: “Play, you louzy Hungarians.” Again, in the News from Hell, brought by the Devil's Carrier, by Thomas Decker, 1606: “&lblank; the leane-jaw'd Hungarian would not lay out a penny pot of sack for himself.” Steevens. Hungarian signified a hungry, starved fellow. So, in Hall's Satire, b. iv. sat. 2: “So sharp and meagre that who should them see “Would sweare they lately came from Hungary.” Malone. The Hungarians, when infidels, over-ran Germany and France, and would have invaded England, if they could have come to it. See Stowe, in the year 930, and Holinshed's Invasions of Ireland, p. 56. Hence their name might become a proverb of baseness. Stowe's Chronicle, in the year 1492, and Leland's Collectanea, vol. i. p. 610, spell it Hongarian (which might be misprinted Gongarian;) and this is right according to their own etymology. Hongyars, i. e. domus suæ strenui defensores. Tollet. The word is Gongarian in the first edition, and should be continued, the better to fix the allusion. Farmer.

Note return to page 58 5&lblank; humour of it.] This speech is partly taken from the corrected copy, and partly from the slight sketch in 1602. I mention it, that those who do not find it in either of the common old editions, may not suspect it to be spurious. Steevens. The folio contains the first clause of the sentence; the quarto, the second. Boswell.

Note return to page 59 6&lblank; at a minute's rest.] Our author probably wrote: “&lblank; at a minim's rest.” Langton. This conjecture seems confirmed by a passage in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; rests his minim,” &c. It may, however, mean, that, like a skilful harquebuzier, he takes a good aim, though he has rested his piece for a minute only. So, in Daniel's Civil Wars, &c. b. vi.: “To set up's rest to venture now for all.” Steevens. A minim was anciently, as the term imports, the shortest note in musick. Its measure was afterwards, as it is now, as long as while two may be moderately counted. In Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. IV. Mercutio says of Tibalt, that in fighting he “rests his minim, one, two, and the third in your bosom.” A minute contains sixty seconds, and is a long time for an action supposed to be instantaneous. Nym means to say, that the perfection of stealing is to do it in the shortest time possible. Sir J. Hawkins, “'Tis true (says Nym) Bardolph did not keep time; did not steal at the critical and exact season, when he would probably be least observed. The true method is, to steal just at the instant when watchfulness is off its guard, and reposes but for a moment.” The reading proposed by Mr. Langton certainly corresponds more exactly with the preceding speech; but Shakspeare scarcely ever pursues his metaphors far. Malone.

Note return to page 60 7Convey, the wise it call:] So, in the old morality of Hycke Scorner, bl. l. no date: “Syr, the horesons could not convaye clene; “For an they could have carried by craft as I can,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 61 8&lblank; a fico for the phrase!] i. e. a fig for it. Pistol uses the same phraseology in King Henry V.: “Die and be damn'd; and fico for thy friendship.” Steevens. So, in The Widow by Fletcher, Jonson, and Middleton: “Oh! and my fig cheese! “The fig of everlasting obloquy “Go with him, if he have eat it.” See Mr. Douce's observations on Shakspeare for a full explanation and history of this phrase. Boswell.

Note return to page 62 9Young ravens must have food.] An adage. See Ray's Proverbs. Steevens.

Note return to page 63 1&lblank; about no waste;] I find the same play on words in Heywood's Epigrams, 1562: “Where am I least, husband? quoth he, in the waist; “Which cometh of this, thou art vengeance strait lac'd. “Where am I biggest, wife? in the waste, quoth she, “For all is waste in you, as far as I see.” And again, in The Wedding, a comedy, by Shirley, 1629: “He's a great man indeed; “Something given to the wast, for he lives within no reasonable compass.” Steevens.

Note return to page 64 2&lblank; she carves,] It should be remembered, that anciently the young of both sexes were instructed in carving, as a necessary accomplishment. In 1508, Wynkyn de Worde published “A Boke of Kerving.” So, in Love's Labour's Lost, Biron says of Boyet, the French courtier: “&lblank; He can carve too, and lisp.” Steevens. It seems to have been considered as a mark of kindness when a lady carved to a gentleman. So, in Vittoria Corombona: “Your husband is wondrous discontented.—Vit. I did nothing to displease him; I carved to him at supper time.” Boswell.

Note return to page 65 3&lblank; studied her well, and translated her well;] Thus the first quarto. The folio 1623 reads—“studied her will, and transtated her will.” Mr. Malone observes, that there is a similar corruption in the folio copy of King Lear. In the quarto 1608, signat. B, we find—“since what I well intend;” instead of which the folio exhibits—“since what I will intend,” &c. Translation is not used in its common acceptation, but means to explain, as one language is explained by another. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; these profound heaves “You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 66 4The anchor is deep:] I see not what relation the anchor has to translation. Perhaps we may read—the author is deep; or perhaps the line is out of its place, and should be inserted lower, after Falstaff has said: “Sail like my pinnace to those golden shores.” It may be observed, that in the hands of that time anchor and author could hardly be distinguished. Johnson. “The anchor is deep,” may mean—his hopes are well founded. So, in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; Now my latest hope, “Forsake me not, but fling thy anchor out, “And let it hold!” Again, as Mr. M. Mason observes, in Fletcher's Woman-Hater: “Farewell, my hopes; my anchor now is broken.” In the year 1558 a ballad, intitled “Hold the ancer fast,” is entered on the books of the Stationers' Company. Steevens. Dr. Johnson very acutely proposes “the author is deep.” He reads with the first copy, “he hath studied her well.”—And from this equivocal word, Nym catches the idea of deepness. But it is almost impossible to ascertain the diction of this whimsical character: and I meet with a phrase in Fenner's Comptor's Commonwealth, 1617, which may perhaps support the old reading: “Master Decker's Bellman of London, hath set forth the vices of the time so lively, that it is impossible the anchor of any other man's braine could sound the sea of a more deepe and dreadful mischeefe.” Farmer. Nym, I believe, only means to say, the scheme for debauching Ford's wife is deep;—well laid. Malone.

Note return to page 67 5&lblank; she hath legions of angels.] Thus the old quarto. The folio reads—“he hath a legend of angels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 68 6As many devils entertain;] i. e. do you retain in your service as many devils as she has angels. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.” This is the reading of the folio. Malone. The old quarto reads: “As many devils attend her!” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 69 7&lblank; eyliads:] This word is differently spelt in all the copies. It occurs again, in King Lear, Act IV. Sc. V.: “She gave strange œiliads, and most speaking looks, “To noble Edmund.” I suppose we should write oëillades, French. Steevens.

Note return to page 70 8&lblank; sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly.] So, in our author's 20th Sonnet: “An eye more bright than their's, less false in rolling, “Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth.” Malone.

Note return to page 71 9Then did the sun on dung-hill shine.] So, in Lyly's Euphues, 1581: “The sun shineth upon the dunghill.” Holt White.

Note return to page 72 1&lblank; that humour.] What distinguishes the language of Nym from that of the other attendants on Falstaff, is the constant repetition of this phrase. In the time of Shakspeare such an affectation seems to have been sufficient to mark a character. In Sir Giles Goosecap, a play of which I have no earlier edition than that of 1606, the same peculiarity is mentioned in the hero of the piece: “&lblank; his only reason for every thing is, that we are all mortal; then hath he another pretty phrase too, and that is, he will tickle the vanity of every thing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 73 2&lblank; intention,] i. e. eagerness of desire. So, in Chapman's translation of Homer's Address to the Sun: “&lblank; Even to horror bright, “A blaze burns from his golden burgonet; “Which to behold, exceeds the sharpest set “Of any eye's intention.” Steevens. So, in Cupid's Whirligig, 1607: “With a greedy eye feeds on my exteriors.” Henderson.

Note return to page 74 3&lblank; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty.] If the tradition be true (as I doubt not but it is) of this play being wrote at Queen Elizabeth's command, this passage, perhaps, may furnish a probable conjecture that it could not appear till after the year 1598. The mention of Guiana, then so lately discovered to the English, was a very happy compliment to Sir Walter Raleigh, who did not begin his expedition for South America till 1595, and returned from it in 1596, with an advantageous account of the great wealth of Guiana. Such an address of the poet was likely, I imagine, to have a proper impression on the people, when the intelligence of such a golden country was fresh in their minds, and gave them expectations of immense gain. Theobald.

Note return to page 75 4I will be cheater to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me;] The same joke is intended here, as in The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Act II.: “&lblank; I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater.”—By which is meant Escheatour, an officer in the Exchequer, in no good repute with the common people. Warburton.

Note return to page 76 5&lblank; bear you these letters tightly;] i. e. cleverly, adroitly. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Antony, putting on his armour, says: “My queen's a squire “More tight at this, than thou.” Malone. No phrase is so common in the eastern counties of this kingdom, and particularly in Suffolk, as good tightly, for briskly and effectually. Henley It is used in this sense in Don Sebastian, by Dryden, Act II. Sc. II: “&lblank; tightly, I say, go tightly to your business.” Reed.

Note return to page 77 6&lblank; my pinnace &lblank;] A pinnace seems anciently to have signified a small vessel, or sloop, attending on a larger. So, in Rowley's When You See Me You Know Me, 1613: “&lblank; was lately sent “With threescore sail of ships and pinnaces.” Again, in Muleasses the Turk, 1610: “Our life is but a sailing to our death “Through the world's ocean: it makes no matter then, “Whether we put into the world's vast sea “Shipp'd in a pinnace, or an argosy.” At present it signifies only a man of war's bout. A passage similar to this of Shakspeare occurs in The Humourous Lieutenant, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; this small pinnace “Shall sail for gold.” Steevens. A pinnace is a small vessel with a square stern, having sails and oars, and carrying three masts; chiefly used (says Rolt, in his Dictionary of Commerce,) as a scout for intelligence, and for landing of men. Malone.

Note return to page 78 7&lblank; the humour of this age.] Thus the 4to. 1619: The folio reads—the honor of the age. Steevens.

Note return to page 79 8Let vultures gripe thy guts!] This hemistich is a burlesque on a passage in Tamburlaine, or The Scythian Shepherd, of which play a more particular account is given in one of the notes to Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. IV. Steevens. I suppose the following is the passage intended to be ridiculed: “&lblank; and now doth ghastly death “With greedy talents [talons] gripe my bleeding heart, “And like a harper [harpy] tyers on my life.” Again, ibid.: “Griping our bowels with retorted thoughts.” Malone.

Note return to page 80 9&lblank; for gourd, and fullam holds, And high and low beguile the rich and poor;] Fullam is a cant term for false dice, high and low. Torriano, in his Italian Dictionary, interprets Pise by false dice, high and low men, high fullams and low fullams. Jonson, in his Every Man out of his Humour, quibbles upon this cant term: “Who, he serve? He keeps high men and low men, he has a fair living at Fullam.”—As for gourd, or rather gord, it was another instrument of gaming, as appears from Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady: “&lblank; And thy dry bones can reach at nothing now, but gords or nine-pins.” Warburton. In the London Prodigal I find the following enumeration of false dice: “I bequeath two bale of false dice, videlicit, high men and low men, fulloms, stop cater-traies, and other bones of function.” Green, in his Art of Juggling, &c. 1612, says: “what should I say more of false dice, of fulloms, high men, lowe men, gourds, and brizled dice, graviers, demies, and contraries?” Again, in The Bellman of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640: among the false dice are enumerated, “a bale of fullams.”— “A bale of gordes, with as many high-men as low-men for passage.” Steevens. Gourds were probably dice in which a secret cavity had been made; fullams, those which had been loaded with a small bit of lead. High men and low men, which were likewise cant terms, explain themselves. High numbers on the dice, at hazard, are from five to twelve, inclusive; low, from aces to four. Malone. High and low men were false dice, which, being chiefly made at Fulham, were thence called “high and low Fulhams.” The high Fulhams were the numbers, 4, 5, and 6. See the manner in which these dice were made, in The Complete Gamester, p. 12, edit. 1676, 12mo. Douce.

Note return to page 81 1&lblank; in my head,] These words, which are omitted in the folio, were recovered by Mr. Pope from the early quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 82 2I will discuss the humour of this love to Page.] The folio reads: “&lblank; to Ford:” but the very reverse of this happens. See Act II. where Nym makes the discovery to Page, and not to Ford, as here promised; and Pistol, on the other hand, to Ford, and not to Page. Shakspeare is frequently guilty of these little forgetfulnesses. Steevens. The folio reads—to Ford; and in the next line—and I to Page, &c. But the reverse of this (as Mr. Steevens has observed) happens in Act II. where Nym makes the discovery to Page, and Pistol to Ford. I have therefore corrected the text from the old quarto, where Nym declares he will make the discovery to Page; and Pistol says, “And I to Ford will likewise tell &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 83 3&lblank; I will incense Page, &c.] To incense in Shakspeare's age, meant to instigate. See Minsheu's Dictionary in voc. Malone. So, in K. Henry VIII.: “&lblank; I have “Incens'd the lords of the council, that he is “A most arch heretic &lblank;.” In both passages, to incense has the same meaning as to instigate. Steevens.

Note return to page 84 4&lblank; yellowness,] Yellowness is jealousy. Johnson. So, in Law Tricks, &c. 1608: “If you have me you must not put on yellows.” Again, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “&lblank; Flora well, perdie, “Did paint her yellow for her jealousy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 85 5&lblank; the revolt of mien &lblank;] “The revolt of mine” is the old reading. Revolt of mien, is change of countenance, one of the effects he has just been ascribing to jealousy.” Steevens. This Mr. Steevens truly observes to be the old reading, and it is authority enough for “the revolt of mien” in modern orthography. “Know you that fellow that walketh there?—says Eliot, 1593—he is an alchymist by his mine, and hath multiplied all to moonshine.” Farmer. Nym means, I think, to say, that kind of change in the complexion, which is caused by jealousy, renders the person possessed by such a passion dangerous; consequently Ford will be likely to revenge himself on Falstaff, and I shall be gratified. I believe our author wrote—that revolt, &c. though I have not disturbed the text—ye and yt in the MSS. of his time were easily confounded. Malone.

Note return to page 86 6&lblank; Rugby.] This domestic of Dr. Caius received his name from a town in Warwickshire. Steevens.

Note return to page 87 7&lblank; at the latter end, &c.] That is, when my master is in bed. Johnson.

Note return to page 88 8&lblank; no breed-bate:] Bate is an obsolete word, signifying strife, contention. So, in The Countess of Pembroke's Antonius, 1595: “Shall ever civil bate “Gnaw and devour our state?” Again, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “We shall not fall at bate, or stryve for this matter.” Stanyhurst, in his translation of Virgil, 1582, calls Erinnys a make-bate. Steevens.

Note return to page 89 9&lblank; he is something peevish that way:] Peevish is foolish. So, in Cymbeline, Act II.: “&lblank; he's strange and peevish.” Steevens. I believe, this is one of Dame Quickly's blunders, and that she means precise. Malone.

Note return to page 90 1&lblank; a great round beard, &c.] See a note on K. Henry V. Act III. Sc. VI: “And what a beard of the general's cut,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 91 2&lblank; a little wee face,] Wee, in the northern dialect, signifies very little. Thus, in the Scottish proverb that apologizes for a little woman's marriage with a big man:—“A wee mouse will creep under a mickle cornstack.” Collins. So, in Heywood's Fair Maid of the West, a comedy, 1631: “He was nothing so tall as I; but a little wee man, and somewhat hutch-back'd.” Again, in the Wisdom of Doctor Dodypoll, 1600: “Some two miles, and a wee bit, sir.” Wee is derived from weenig, Dutch. On the authority of the 4to. 1619, we might be led to read whey-face: “&lblank; Somewhat of a weakly man, and has it were a whey-coloured beard.” Macbeth calls one of the messengers whey-face. Steevens. Little wee is certainly the right reading; it implies something extremely diminutive, and is a very common vulgar idiom in the North. Wee alone has only the signification of little. Thus Cleveland: “A Yorkshire wee bit, longer than a mile.” The proverb is a mile and a wee bit; i. e. about a league and a half. Ritson.

Note return to page 92 3&lblank; a Cain-colour'd beard.] Cain and Judas, in the tapestries and pictures of old, were represented with yellow beards. Theobald. Theobald's conjecture may be countenanced by a parallel expression in an old play called Blurt Master Constable, or, The Spaniard's Night-Walk, 1602: “&lblank; over all, “A goodly, long, thick, Abraham-colour'd beard.” Again, in Soliman and Perseda, 1599, Basilisco says: “&lblank; where is the eldest son of Priam, “That Abraham-colour'd Trojan?” I am not, however, certain, but that Abraham may be a corruption of auburn. So, in Reynold's God's Revenge against Murder, Book IV. Hist. 16. “Harcourt had a light auburn beard, which (like a country gentleman) he wore negligently after the oval cut.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1603: “And let their beards be of Judas his own colour.” Again, in A Christian turn'd Turk, 1612: “That's he in the Judas beard.” Again, in The Insatiate Countess, 1613: “I ever thought by his red beard he would prove a Judas.” In an age, when but a small part of the nation could read, ideas were frequently borrowed from representations in painting or tapestry. A cane-colour'd beard, however, [the reading of the quarto,] might signify a beard of the colour of cane, i. e. a sickly yellow; for straw-colour'd beards are mentioned in A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Steevens. The words of the quarto,—a whey-colour'd beard, strongly favour this reading; for whey and cane are nearly of the same colour. Malone. The new edition of Leland's Collectanea, vol. v. p. 295, asserts, that “painters constantly represented Judas the traytor with a red head.” Dr. Plot's Oxfordshire, p. 153, says the same: “This conceit is thought to have arisen in England, from our ancient grudge to the red-haired Danes.” Tollet. See my quotation in King Henry VIII. Act. V. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 93 4&lblank; as tall a man of his hands,] Perhaps this is an allusion to the jockey measure, so many hands high, used by grooms when speaking of horses. Tall, in our author's time, signified not only height of stature, but stoutness of body. The ambiguity of the phrase seems intended. Percy. Whatever be the origin of this phrase, it is very ancient, being used by Gower: “A worthie knight was of his honde, “There was none suche in all the londe.” De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 118. b. Steevens. The tall man of the old dramatick writers, was a man of a bold, intrepid disposition, and inclined to quarrel; such as is described by Steevens in the second scene of the third act of this play. M. Mason. “A tall man of his hands” sometimes meant quick-handed, active; and as Simple is here commending his master for his gymnastick abilities, perhaps the phrase is here used in that sense. See Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598, in v. “Manesco. Nimble or quick-handed; a tall man of his hands.” Malone. See also Cotgrave under the word garcon: “C'est un mauvais garcon. He is a shrewd or tall fellow; one that will thoroughly both lay and look about him.” Malone. Tall, among our ancestors, seems to have been used in any sense that pleased the person who employed it. Chaucer, in his Complaint of Mars and Venus, has joined it with humble: “She made him at her lust so humble and tall.” Boswell.

Note return to page 94 5We shall all be shent:] i. e. Scolded, roughly treated. So, in the old Interlude of Nature, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; I can tell thee one thyng, “In fayth you will be shent.” Again, in Chapman's version of the twenty-third book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; such acts still were shent, “As simply in themselves, as in th' event.” Steevens.

Note return to page 95 6&lblank; and down, down, adown-a, &c.] To deceive her master, she sings as if at her work. Sir J. Hawkins. This appears to have been the burden of some song then well known. In Every Woman in her Humour, 1609, sign. E 1, one of the characters says, “Hey good boies! i'faith now a three man's song, or the old downe adowne: well, things must be as they may; fil's the other quart: muskadine with an egg is fine; there's a time for all things, bonos nochios.” Reed.

Note return to page 96 7Enter Doctor Caius.] It has been thought strange that our author should take the name of Caius [an eminent physician who flourished in the reign of Elizabeth, and founder of Caius college in our university] for his Frenchman in this comedy; but Shakspeare was little acquainted with literary history; and without doubt, from this unusual name, supposed him to have been a foreign quack. Add to this, that the doctor was handed down as a kind of Rosicrucian: Mr. Ames had in MS. one of the “Secret Writings of Dr. Caius.” Farmer. This character of Dr. Caius might have been drawn from the life: as in Jacke of Dover's Quest of Enquirie, 1604, (perhaps a republication,) a story called The Foole of Winsor begins thus: “Upon a time there was in Winsor a certain simple outlandishe doctor of physicke belonging to the deane,” &c. Steevens. In Dr. Dodipoll, before 1596, we have a French doctor introduced upon the stage. The popularity of foreign physicians appears from The Return from Parnassus: “We'll gull the world that hath in estimation forraine phisitians.” Malone.

Note return to page 97 8&lblank; un boitier verd;] Boitier in French signifies a case of surgeon's instruments. Grey. I believe it rather means a box of salve, or case to hold simples, for which Caius professes to seek. The same word, somewhat curtailed, is used by Chaucer, in the Pardoneres Prologue, v. 12,241: “And every boist ful of thy letuarie.” Again, in The Skynners' Play, in the Chester Collection of Mysteries, MS. Harl. p. 149, Mary Magdalen says: “To balme his bodye that is so brighte, “Boyste here have I brought.” Steevens.

Note return to page 98 9&lblank; dress meat and drink,] Dr. Warburton thought the word drink ought to be expunged; but by drink Dame Quickly might have intended potage and soup, of which her master may be supposed to have been as fond as the rest of his countrymen. Malone.

Note return to page 99 1&lblank; de Jack priest;] Jack, in our author's time, was a term of contempt: “So, saucy Jack,” &c. See K. Henry IV. Part I. Act III. Sc. III.: “The prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup;” and Much Ado about Nothing, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; do you play the flouting Jack?” Malone.

Note return to page 100 2What, the good-jer!] She means to say—“the goujere,” i. e. morbus Gallicus. So, in K. Lear: “The goujeres shall devour them.” See Hanmer's note, King Lear, Act V. Sc. III. Steevens. Mrs. Quickly scarcely ever pronounces a hard word rightly. Good-jer and Good-year were in our author's time common corruptions of goujere; and in the books of that age the word is as often written one way as the other. Malone.

Note return to page 101 4&lblank; but, I detest,] She means—I protest. Malone. The same intended mistake occurs in Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. I.: “My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,” &c.—“Dost thou detest her therefore?” Steevens.

Note return to page 102 5&lblank; to allicholly &lblank;] And yet, in a former part of this very scene, Mrs. Quickly is made to utter the word—melancholy, without the least corruption of it. Such is the inconsistency of the first folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 103 6&lblank; Out upon't! what have I forgot?] This excuse for leaving the stage, is rather too near Dr. Caius's “Od's me! qu'ay j'oublié?” in the former part of the scene. Steevens.

Note return to page 104 7&lblank; though love use reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsellor:] This is obscure: but the meaning is, ‘though love permit reason to tell what is fit to be done, he seldom follows its advice.’—By precisian, is meant one who pretends to a more than ordinary degree of virtue and sanctity. On which account they gave this name to the puritans of that time. So Osborne—“Conform their mode, words, and looks, to these precisians.” And Maine, in his City Match: “&lblank; I did commend “A great precisian to her for her woman.” Warburton. Of this word I do not see any meaning that is very apposite to the present intention. Perhaps Falstaff said, ‘Though love use reason as his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.’ This will be plain sense. Ask not the reason of my love; the business of reason is not to assist love, but to cure it. There may however be this meaning in the present reading. Though love, when he would submit to regulation, may use reason as his precisian, or director, in nice cases, yet when he is only eager to attain his end, he takes not reason for his counsellor. Johnson. Dr. Johnson wishes to read physician; and this conjecture becomes almost a certainty from a line in our author's 147th sonnet: “My reason the physician to my love,” &c. Farmer. The character of a precisian seems to have been very generally ridiculed in the time of Shakspeare. So, in The Malcontent, 1604: “You must take her in the right vein then; as, when the sign is in Pisces, a fishmonger's wife is very sociable: in Cancer, a precisian's wife is very flexible.” Again, Dr. Faustus, 1604: “I will set my countenance like a precisian.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Case is Alter'd, 1609: “It is precisianism to alter that, “With austere judgement, which is given by nature.” Steevens. If physician be the right reading, the meaning may be this: A lover uncertain as yet of success, never takes reason for his counsellor, but, when desperate, applies to him as his physician. Musgrave.

Note return to page 105 8Thine own true knight, By day or night,] This expression, ludicrously employed by Falstaff, is of Greek extraction, and means, at all times. So, in the twenty-second Iliad, 433: &lblank; &grorc; &grm;&gro;&gri; &grN;&grU;&grK;&grT;&grA;&grST; &grT;&grE; &grK;&grA;&grI; &grH;&grM;&grA;&grR; &grE;&grus;&grx;&grw;&grl;&grhg;. Thus faithfully rendered by Mr. Wakefield: “My Hector! night and day thy mother's joy.” So likewise, in the third book of Gower, De Confessione Amantis: “The sonne cleped was Machayre, “The daughter eke Canace hight, “By daie bothe and eke by night.” Loud and still was another phrase of similar meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 106 9&lblank; What an unweighed behaviour, &c.] Thus the folio 1623. It has been suggested to me, that we should read—one. Steevens.

Note return to page 107 1&lblank; Flemish drunkard &lblank;] It is not without reason that this term of reproach is here used. Sir John Smythe in Certain Discourses, &c. 4to. 1590, says, that the habit of drinking to excess was introduced into England from the Low Countries “by some of our such men of warre within these very few years: whereof it is come to passe that now-a-dayes there are very fewe feastes where our said men of warre are present, but that they do invite and procure all the companie, of what calling soever they be, to carowsing and quaffing; and, because they will not be denied their challenges, they, with many newe conges, ceremonies, and reverences, drinke to the health and prosperitie of princes; to the health of counsellors, and unto the health of their greatest friends both at home and abroad: in which exercise they never cease till they be deade drunke, or, as the Flemings say, Doot dronken.” He add, “And this aforesaid detestable vice hath within these six or seven yeares taken wonderful roote amongest our English nation, that in times past was wont to be of all other nations of Christendome one of the soberest.” Reed.

Note return to page 108 2&lblank; I was then frugal of my mirth:] By breaking this speech into exclamations, the text may stand; but I once thought it must be read, ‘If I was not then frugal of my mirth,’ &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 109 3&lblank; for the putting down of fat men.] The word fat which seems to have been inadvertently omitted in the folio, was restored by Mr. Theobald from the quarto, where the corresponding speech runs thus: “Well, I shall trust fat men the worse, while I live, for his sake. O God; that I knew how to be revenged of him!” —Dr. Johnson, however, thinks that the insertion is unnecessary, as “Mrs. Page might naturally enough, in the first heat of her anger, rail at the sex for the fault of one.” But the authority of the original sketch in quarto, and Mrs. Page's frequent mention of the size of her lover in the play as it now stands, in my opinion fully warrant the correction that has been made. Our author well knew that bills are brought into parliament for some purpose that at least appears practicable. Mrs. Page therefore in her passion might exhibit a bill for the putting down men of a particular description; but Shakspeare would never have made her threaten to introduce a bill to effect an impossibility, viz. the extermination of the whole species. There is no error more frequent at the press than the omission of words. In a sheet of this work now before me [Mr. Malone means his former edition in 1790] there was an out, (as it is termed in the printing-house,) that is, a passage omitted, of no less than ten lines. The expression, putting down, is a common phrase of our municipal law. Malone. I believe this passage has hitherto been misunderstood, and therefore continue to read with the folio, which omits the epithet —fat. The putting down of men, may only signify the humiliation of them, the bringing them to shame. So, in Twelfth Night, Malvolio says of the Clown—“I saw him, the other day, put down by an ordinary fool;” i. e. confounded. Again, in Love's Labour's Lost—“How the ladies and I have put him down!” Again, in Much Ado about Nothing—“You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.” Again, in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 482—“Lucullus' wardrobe is put down by our ordinary citizens.” I cannot help thinking that the extermination of all men would be as practicable a design of parliament, as the putting down of those whose only offence was embonpoint. I persist in this opinion, even though I have before me (in support of Mr. Malone's argument) the famous print from P. Brueghel, representing the Lean Cooks expelling the Fat ones. Steevens.

Note return to page 110 4What?—thou liest!—Sir Alice Ford!—These knights will hack: and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry.] I read thus—These knights we'll hack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. The punishment of a recreant, or undeserving knight, was to hack off his spurs: the meaning therefore is: it is not worth the while of a gentlewoman to be made a knight, for we'll degrade all these knights in a little time, by the usual form of hacking off their spurs, and thou, if thou art knighted, shalt be hacked with the rest. Johnson. Sir T. Hanmer says, to hack, means to turn hackney, or prostitute. I suppose he means—These knights will degrade themselves, so that she will acquire no honour by being connected with them. It is not, however, impossible that Shakspeare meant by— “these knights will hack”—these knights will soon become hackneyed characters.—So many knights were made about the time this play was amplified (for the passage is neither in the copy 1602, nor 1619,) that such a stroke of satire might not have been unjustly thrown in. In Hans Beer Pot's Invisible Comedy, 1618, is a long piece of ridicule on the same occurrence: “Twas strange to see what knighthood once would do: “Stir great men up to lead a martial life— “To gain this honour and this dignity.— “But now, alas! 'tis grown ridiculous, “Since bought with money, sold for basest prize, “That some refuse it who are counted wise.” Steevens. These knights will hack (that is, become cheap or vulgar,) and therefore she advises her friend not to sully her gentry by becoming one. The whole of this discourse about knighthood is added since the first edition of this play [in 1602]; and therefore I suspect this is an oblique reflection on the prodigality of James I. in bestowing these honours, and erecting in 1611 a new order of knighthood, called Baronets; which few of the ancient gentry would condescend to accept. See Sir Henry Spelman's epigram on them, Gloss. p. 76, which ends thus: &lblank; dum cauponare recusant   Ex vera geniti nobilitate viri; Interea e caulis hic prorepit, ille tabernis   Et modo fit dominus, qui modo servus erat.” See another stroke at them in Othello, Act III. Sc. IV. Blackstone. Sir W. Blackstone supposes that the order of Baronets (created in 1611) was likewise alluded to. But it appears to me highly probable that our author amplified the play before us at an earlier period. See An Attempt to Ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays. Between the time of King James's arrival at Berwick in April, 1603, and the 2d of May, he made two hundred and thirty-seven knights; and in the July following between three and four hundred. It is probable that the play before us was enlarged in that or the subsequent year, when this stroke of satire must have been highly relished by the audience. For a specimen of the contemptuous manner in which these knights were mentioned, see B. Rich's My Ladies Looking Glasse, 4to. 1616, but written about 1608, p. 66: “Knighthood was wont to be the reward of virtue, but now a common prey to the betrayers of virtue; and we shall sooner meet Sir Dinadine or Sir Dagenet [the one a cornet knight, the other King Arthur's foole—marginal note] at another man's table, than with Sir Tristram de Lionis, or Sir Lancelot de Lake in the field. Knights in former ages have been assistant unto princes, and were the staires of the commonwealth; but now they live by begging from the prince, and are a burthen to the commonwealth.” Malone.

Note return to page 111 5We burn day-light:] i. e. we have more proof than we want. The same proverbial phrase occurs in The Spanish Tragedy: “Hier. Light me your torches.” “Pedro. Then we burn day light.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio uses the same expression, and then explains it: “We waste our lights in vain like lamps by day.” Steevens. I think, the meaning rather is, we are wasting time in idle talk, when we ought to read the letter; resembling those who waste candles by burning them in the day-time. Malone.

Note return to page 112 6&lblank; men's liking:] i. e. men's condition of body. Thus in the book of Job: “Their young ones are in good liking.” Falstaff also, in King Henry IV. says—“I'll repent while I am in some liking.” Again, in A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels, &c. translated out of French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton] 4to. 1578, p. 20: “Your fresh colour and good liking testifieth, that melancholy consumeth not your bodie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 113 7&lblank; Green sleeves.] This song was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company in September, 1580: “Licensed unto Richard Jones, a newe northerne dittye of the Lady Green sleeves.” Again, “Licensed unto Edward White, a ballad, beinge the Lady Green Sleeves, answered to Jenkyn hir friend.” Again, in the same month and year: “Green Sleeves moralized to the Scripture,” &c. Again, to Edward White: “Green Sleeves and countenaunce. “In countenance is Green Sleeves.” Again: “A New Northern Song of Green Sleeves, beginning, “The bonniest lass in all the land.” Again, in February 1580: “A reprehension against Green Sleeves, by W. Elderton.” From a passage in The Loyal Subject, by Beaumont and Fletcher, it should seem that the original was a wanton ditty: “And set our credits to the tune of Greene Sleeves.” But whatever the ballad was, it seems to have been very popular. August, 1581, was entered at Stationers' Hall, “A new ballad, entitled: “Greene Sleeves is worn away, “Yellow sleeves come to decaie, “Black sleeves I hold in despite, “But white sleeves is my delight.” Mention of the same tune is made again in the fourth act of this play. Steevens.

Note return to page 114 8&lblank; melted him in his own grease.] So Chaucer, in his Wif of Bathes Prologue, 6069: “That in his owen grese I made him frie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 115 9&lblank; press,] Press is used ambiguously, for a press to print, and a press to squeeze. Johnson.

Note return to page 116 1I had rather be a giantess, and lie under mount Pelion.] Mr. Warton judiciously observes, that in consequence of English versions from Greek and Roman authors, an inundation of classical pedantry very soon infected our poetry, and that perpetual allusions to ancient fable were introduced, as in the present instance, without the least regard to propriety; for Mrs. Page was not intended, in any degree, to be a learned or an affected lady. Steevens.

Note return to page 117 2&lblank; some strain in me,] Thus the old copies. The modern editors read—“some stain in me,” but, I think, unnecessarily. A similar expression occurs in The Winter's Tale: “With what encounter so uncurrent have I “Strain'd to appear thus?” And again, in Timon: “&lblank; a noble nature “May catch a wrench.” Steevens.

Note return to page 118 3&lblank; the chariness of our honesty.] i. e. the caution which ought to attend on it. Steevens.

Note return to page 119 4O, that my husband saw this letter!] Surely Mrs. Ford does not wish to excite the jealousy of which she complains. I think we should read—O, if my husband, &c. and thus the copy, 1619: “O Lord, if my husband should see the letter! i'faith, this would even give edge to his jealousie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 120 5&lblank; curtail dog &lblank;] That is, a dog that misses his game. The tail is counted necessary to the agility of a greyhound. Johnson. “&lblank; curtail dog &lblank;” That is, a dog of small value;—what we now call a cur. Malone.

Note return to page 121 6&lblank; gally-mawfry;] i. e. a medley. So, in The Winter's Tale: “They have a dance, which the wenches say is a galli-maufry of gambols.” Pistol ludicrously uses it for a woman. Thus, in A Woman Never Vex'd, 1632: “Let us show ourselves gallants or galli-maufries.” Steevens.

Note return to page 122 7&lblank; Ford, perpend.] This is perhaps a ridicule on a pompous word too often used in the old play of Cambyses: “My sapient words I say perpend.” Again: “My queen perpend what I pronounce.” Shakspeare has put the same word into the mouth of Polonius. Steevens. Pistol again uses it in K. Henry V.; so does the Clown in Twelfth-Night: I do not believe, therefore, that any ridicule was here aimed at Preston, the author of Cambyses. Malone.

Note return to page 123 8With liver burning hot:] So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “If ever love had interest in his liver.” The liver was anciently supposed to be the inspirer of amorous passions. Thus, in an old Latin distich: Cor ardet, pulmo loquitur, fel commovet iras; Splen ridere facit, cogit amare jecur. Steevens.

Note return to page 124 9&lblank; cuckoo-birds do sing.] Such is the reading of the folio. The quartos 1602, and 1619, read—when cuckoo-birds appear. The modern editors—when cuckoo-birds affright. For the last reading I find no authority. Steevens.

Note return to page 125 1Away, sir corporal Nym.— Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.] Nym, I believe, is out of place, and we should read thus: “Away, sir corporal. “Nym. Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.” Johnson. Perhaps Dr. Johnson is mistaken in his conjecture. He seems not to have been aware of the manner in which the author meant this scene should be represented. Ford and Pistol, Page and Nym, enter in pairs, each pair in separate conversation; and while Pistol is informing Ford of Falstaff's design upon his wife, Nym is, during that time, talking aside to Page, and giving information of the like plot against him.—When Pistol has finished, he calls out to Nym to come away: but seeing that he and Page are still in close debate, he goes off alone, first assuring Page, he may depend on the truth of Nym's story. “Believe it, Page,” &c. Nym then proceeds to tell the remainder of his tale out aloud. “And this is true,” &c. A little further on in this scene, Ford says to Page, “You heard what this knave (i. e. Pistol) told me,” &c. Page replies, “Yes: And you heard what the other (i. e. Nym) told me.” Steevens. “Believe it, Page; he speaks sense.” Thus has the passage been hitherto printed, says Dr. Farmer; but surely we should read—“Believe it, Page, he speaks;” which means no more than—“Page, believe what he says.” This sense is expressed not only in the manner peculiar to Pistol, but to the grammar of the times. Steevens.

Note return to page 126 2&lblank; I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; &c.] Nym, to gain credit, says, that he is above the mean office of carrying love-letters; he has nobler means of living; ‘he has a sword, and upon his necessity,’ that is, ‘when his need drives him to unlawful expedients, his sword shall bite.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 127 3The humour of it,] The following epigram, taken from Humor's Ordinarie, where a Man may bee verie merrie and exceeding well used for his Sixpence, quarto, 1607, will best account for Nym's frequent repetition of the word humour. Epig. 27: “Aske Humors what a feather he doth weare, “It is his humour (by the Lord) he'll sweare; “Or what he doth with such a horse-taile locke, “Or why upon a whore he spendes his stocke,— “He hath a humour doth determine so: “Why in the stop-throte fashion he doth goe, “With scarfe about his necke, hat without band,— “It is his humour. Sweet sir, understand, “What cause his purse is so extreame distrest “That oftentimes is scarcely penny-blest; “Only a humour. If you question, why “His tongue is ne'er unfurnish'd with a lye,— “It is his humour too he doth protest: “Or why with sergeants he is so opprest, “That like to ghosts they haunt him ev'rie day; “A rascal humour doth not love to pay. “Object why bootes and spurres are still in season, “His humour answers, humour is his reason. “If you perceive his wits in wetting shrunke, “It cometh of a humour to be drunke. “When you behold his lookes pale, thin, and poore, “The occasion is, his humour and a whoore: “And every thing that he doth undertake, “It is a veine, for senceless humour's sake.” Steevens.

Note return to page 128 *So quarto 1602; first folio, English.

Note return to page 129 4I will not believe such a Cataian,] All the mystery of the term Cataian, for a liar, is only this. China was anciently called Cataia or Cathay, by the first adventurers that travelled thither; such as M. Paulo, and our Mandeville, who told such incredible wonders of this new discovered empire, (in which they have not been outdone even by the Jesuits themselves, who followed them) that a notorious liar was usually called a Cataian. Warburton. “This fellow has such an odd appearance, is so unlike a man civilized, and taught the duties of life, that I cannot credit him.” To be a foreigner was always in England, and I suppose every where else, a reason of dislike. So, Pistol calls Sir Hugh, in the first act, a mountain foreigner: that is, a fellow uneducated, and of gross behaviour; and again in his anger calls Bardolph, Hungarian wight. Johnson. I believe that neither of the commentators is in the right, but am far from professing, with any great degree of confidence, that I am happier in my own explanation. It is remarkable, that in Shakspeare, this expression—a true man, is always put in opposition (as it is in this instance) to—a thief. So, in Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; now the thieves have bound the true men.” The Chinese (anciently called Cataians) are said to be the most dexterous of all the nimble-fingered tribe; and to this hour they deserve the same character. Pistol was known at Windsor to have had a hand in picking Slender's pocket, and therefore might be called Cataian with propriety, if my explanation be admitted. That by a Cataian some kind of sharper was meant, I infer from the following passage in Love and Honour, a play by Sir William D'Avenant, 1649: “Hang him, bold Cataian, he indites finely, “And will live as well by sending short epistles, “Or by the sad whisper at your gamester's ear, “When the great By is drawn, “As any distrest gallant of them all.” Cathaia is mentioned in The Tamer Tamed, of Beaumont and Fletcher: “I'll wish you in the Indies, or Cathaia.” The tricks of the Cataians are hinted at in one of the old black letter histories of that country; and again in a dramatick performance, called The Pedler's Prophecy, 1595: “&lblank; in the east part of Inde, “Through seas and floods, they work all thievish.” Steevens.

Note return to page 130 5'Twas a good sensible fellow:] This, and the two preceding speeches of Ford, are spoken to himself, and have no connection with the sentiments of Page, who is likewise making his comment on what had passed, without attention to Ford. Steevens.

Note return to page 131 6&lblank; very rogues, now they be out of service.] A rogue is a wanderer or vagabond, and, in its consequential signification, a cheat. Johnson.

Note return to page 132 7&lblank; I would have nothing lie on my head:] Here seems to be an allusion to Shakspeare's favourite topick, the cuckold's horns. Malone.

Note return to page 133 8&lblank; cavalero-justice,] This cant term occurs in The Stately Moral of Three Ladies of London, 1590: “Then know, Castilian cavaleros, this.” There is also a book printed in 1599, called, A Countercuffe given to Martin Junior; by the venturous, hardie, and renowned Pasquil of Englande, Cavaliero. Steevens.

Note return to page 134 9&lblank; and tell him, my name is Brook;] Thus both the old quartos: and thus most certainly the poet wrote. We need no better evidence than the pun that Falstaff anon makes on the name, when Brook sends him some burnt sack: Such Brooks are welcome to me, that overflow such liquor. The players, in their edition, altered the name to Broom. Theobald.

Note return to page 135 1&lblank; will you go on, hearts?] For this substitution of an intelligible for an unintelligible word, I am answerable.—The old reading is—an-heires. See the following notes. Steevens. We should read, “Will you go on, heris?” i. e. Will you go on, master?” Heris, an old Scotch word for master. Warburton. The merry Host has already saluted them separately by titles of distinction; he therefore probably now addresses them collectively by a general one—“Will you go on, heroes?” or, as probably,— “Will you go on, hearts?” He calls Dr. Caius Heart of Elder; and adds, in a subsequent scene of this play, Farewell, my hearts. Again, in The Midsummer Night's Dream, Bottom says, “&lblank; Where are these hearts?” My brave hearts, or my bold hearts, is a common word of encouragement. A heart of gold expresses the more soft and amiable qualities, the mores aurei of Horace; and a heart of oak is a frequent encomium of rugged honesty. Sir T. Hanmer reads—Mynheers. Steevens. There can be no doubt that this passage is corrupt. Perhaps we should read—“Will you go and hear us?” So, in the next page—“I had rather hear them scold than fight.” Malone. The old copy 1623 exhibits the word thus: An-heires. I conceive it to be a misprint for ........ Caualeires—for such is the orthography of that title in the folio. I support my conjecture by the following remarks. Mine Host is a person as much addicted to a kind of slang in his conversation, as either Pistol or Nym. He has the present term most strongly in his mind. In this very scene he styles Shallow Cavaleiro-Justice, twice, in following speeches. He calls Falstaff too his Guest-Cavaleire. Slender, on another occasion, he also honours with the style of Cavaleiro Slender. What then is more likely, or characteristic, than that he should say to Shallow and Page, “Will you go, Cavaleires?” Mr. Malone, to whom I communicated this emendation, considered it the best that had been proposed. Boaden.

Note return to page 136 2&lblank; in his rapier.] In the old quarto here follow these words: “Shal. I tell you what, master Page; I believe the doctor is no jester; he'll lay it one [on]; for though we be justices and doctors and churchmen, yet we are the sons of women, master Page. “Page. True, master Shallow. “Shal. It will be found so, master Page. “Page. Master Shallow, you yourself have been a great fighter, though now a man of peace.” Part of this dialogue is found afterwards in the third scene of the present act; but it seems more proper here, to introduce what Shallow says of the prowess of his youth. Malone.

Note return to page 137 3&lblank; my long sword,] Before the introduction of rapiers, the swords in use were of an enormous length, and sometimes raised with both hands. Shallow, with an old man's vanity, censures the innovation by which lighter weapons were introduced, tells what he could once have done with his long sword, and ridicules the terms and rules of the rapier. Johnson. The two-handed sword is mentioned in the ancient Interlude of Nature, bl. l. no date: “Somtyme he serveth me at borde, “Somtyme he bereth my two-hand sword.” See a note to The First Part of K. Henry IV. Act II. Steevens. Dr. Johnson's explanation of the long sword is certainly right; for the early quarto reads—“my two-hand sword;” so that they appear to have been synonymous. Carleton, in his Thankful Remembrance of God's Mercy, 1625, speaking of the treachery of one Rowland York, in betraying the towne of Deventer to the Spaniards in 1587, says: “he was a Londoner, famous among the cutters in his time, for bringing in a new kind of fight—to run the point of the rapier into a man's body. This manner of fight he brought first into England, with great admiration of his audaciousness: when in England before that time, the use was, with little bucklers, and with broad swords, to strike, and not to thrust; and it was accounted unmanly to strike under the girdle.” The Continuator of Stowe's Annals, p. 1024, edit. 1631, supposes the rapier to have been introduced somewhat sooner, viz. about the 20th year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth [1578], at which time, he says, sword and bucklers began to be disused. Shakspeare has here been guilty of a great anachronism in making Shallow ridicule the terms of the rapier in the time of Henry IV. an hundred and seventy years before it was used in England. Malone. It should seem from a passage in Nash's Life of Jacke Wilton, 1594, that rapiers were used in the reign of Henry VIII.: “At that time I was no common squire, &c.—my rapier pendant like a round stick fastned in the tacklings, for skippers the better to climbe by.” Sig. C 4. Ritson. The introduction of the rapier instead of the long sword is thus alluded to in The Maid of the Mill, by Fletcher and Rowley, Act IV. Sc. II.: “Bustopha. —But all this is nothing: now I come to the point. “Julio. —Ayre the point, that's deadly; the ancient blow “Over the buckler ne'er went half so deep.” Boswell.

Note return to page 138 4&lblank; tall fellows &lblank;] A tall fellow, in the time of our author, meant a stout, bold, or courageous person. In A Discourse on Usury, by Dr. Wilson, 1584, he says, “Here in England, he that can rob a man on the high-way, is called a tall fellow.” Lord Bacon says, “that Bishop Fox caused his castle of Norham to be fortified, and manned it likewise with a very great number of tall soldiers.” The elder quarto reads—tall fencers. Steevens.

Note return to page 139 5&lblank; stands so firmly on his wife's frailty,] Thus all the copies. But Mr. Theobald has no conception how any man could “stand firmly on his wife's frailty.” And why? Because he had no conception how he could stand upon it, without knowing what it was. But if I tell a stranger, that the bridge he is about to cross is rotten, and he believes it not, but will go on, may I not say, when I see him upon it, that he stands firmly on a rotten plank? Yet he has changed frailty for fealty, and the Oxford editor has followed him. But they took the phrase, to stand firmly on, to signify to insist upon; whereas it signifies to rest upon, which the character of a secure fool, given to him, shews. So that the common reading has an elegance that would be lost in the alteration. Warburton. To stand on any thing, does signify to insist on it. So, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “All captains, and stand upon the honesty of your wives.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, book vi. chap. 30: “For stoutly on their honesties doe wylie harlots stand.” The jealous Ford is the speaker, and all chastity in women appears to him as frailty. He supposes Page therefore to insist on that virtue as steady, which he himself suspects to be without foundation. Steevens. “&lblank; and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty,” i. e. has such perfect confidence in his unchaste wife. His wife's frailty is the same as—his frail wife. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, we meet with death and honour, for an honourable death. Malone.

Note return to page 140 6&lblank; and, what they made there,] An obsolete phrase signifying—what they did there. Malone. So, in As You Like It, Act I. Sc. I.: “Now, sir, what make you here?” Steevens.

Note return to page 141 7&lblank; the world's mine oyster, &c.] Dr. Grey supposes Shakspeare to allude to an old proverb, “The mayor of Northampton opens oysters with his dagger,”—i. e. to keep them at a sufficient distance from his nose, that town being fourscore miles from the sea. Steevens.

Note return to page 142 8I will retort the sum in equipage.] This is added from the old quarto of 1619, and means, ‘I will pay you again in stolen goods.’ Warburton. I rather believe he means, that he will pay him by waiting on him for nothing. So, in Love's Pilgrimage, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “And boy, be you my guide, “For I will make a full descent in equipage.” That equipage ever meant stolen goods, I am yet to learn. Steevens. Dr. Warburton may be right; for I find equipage was one of the cant words of the time. In Davies' Papers Complaint, (a poem which has erroneously been ascribed to Donne,) we have several of them: “Embellish, blandishment, and equipage.” Which words, he tells us in the margin, overmuch savour of witlesse affectation. Farmer. Dr. Warburton's interpretation is, I think, right. Equipage indeed does not per se signify stolen goods, but such goods as Pistol promises to return, we may fairly suppose, would be stolen. Equipage, which, as Dr. Farmer observes, had been but newly introduced into our language, is defined by Bullokar, in his English Expositor, 8vo. 1616: “Furniture, or provision for horsemanship, especially in triumphs or tournaments.” Hence the modern use of his word. Malone.

Note return to page 143 9&lblank; your coach-fellow, Nym;] Thus the old copies. Coach-fellow has an obvious meaning; but the modern editors read, couch-fellow. The following passage from Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels may justify the reading I have chosen: “'Tis the swaggering coach-horse Anaides, that draws with him there.” Again, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “Are you he my page here makes choice of to be his fellow coach-horse?” Again, in A true Narrative of the Entertainment of his Royal Majestie, from the Time of his Departure from Edinburgh, till his Receiving in London, &c. 1603: “&lblank; a base pilfering theefe was taken, who plaid the cutpurse in the court; his fellow was ill mist, for no doubt he had a walking-mate: they drew together like coach-horses, and it is pitie they did not hang together.” Again, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “For wit, ye may be coach'd together. Again, in 10th book of Chapman's translation of Homer: “&lblank; their chariot horse, as they coach-fellows were.” Steevens. “&lblank; your coach-fellow, Nym;” i. e. he who draws along with you; who is joined with you in all your knavery. So before, Page, speaking of Nym and Pistol, calls them a “yoke of Falstaff's discarded men.” Malone.

Note return to page 144 1&lblank; tall fellows:] See p. 72, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 145 2&lblank; lost the handle of her fan,] It should be remembered, that fans, in our author's time, were more costly than they are at present, as well as of a different construction. They consisted of ostrich feathers (or others of equal length and flexibility,) which were stuck into handles. The richer sort of these were composed of gold, silver, or ivory of curious workmanship. One of them is mentioned in The Fleire, Com. 1610: “&lblank; she hath a fan with a short silver handle, about the length of a barber's syringe.” Again, in Love and Honour, by Sir W. D'Avenant, 1649: “All your plate, Vasco, is the silver handle of your old prisoner's fan.” Again, in Marston's III. Satyre, edit. 1598: “How can he keepe a lazie waiting man, “And buy a hoode and silver-handled fan “With fortie pound?” In the frontispiece to a play, called Englishmen for my Money, or A pleasant Comedy of a Woman will have her Will, 1616, is a portrait of a lady with one of these fans, which, after all, may prove the best commentary on the passage. The three other specimens are taken from the Habiti Antichi et Moderni di tutto il Mondo, published at Venice, 1598, from the drawings of Titian, and Cesare Vecelli, his brother. This fashion was perhaps imported from Italy, together with many others, in the reign of King Henry VIII. if not in that of King Richard II. Steevens. Thus also Marston, in The Scourge of Villanie, lib. iii. sat. 8: “&lblank; Another, he “Her silver-handled fan would gladly be.” And in other places. And Bishop Hall, in his Satires, published 1597, lib. v. sat. iv.: “Whiles one piece pays her idle waiting manne, “Or buys a hoode, or silver-handled fanne.” In the Sidney papers, published by Collins, a fan is presented to Queen Elizabeth for a new year's gift, the handle of which was studded with diamonds. T. Warton.

Note return to page 146 3&lblank; A short knife and a throng;] So, Lear: “When cutpurses come not to throngs.” Warburton. Part of the employment given by Drayton, in The Mooncalf, to the Baboon, seems the same with this recommended by Falstaff: “He like a gypsey oftentimes would go, “All kinds of gibberish he hath learn'd to know: “And with a stick, a short string, and a noose, “Would show the people tricks at fast and loose.” Theobald has throng instead of thong. The latter seems right. Langton. Greene, in his Life of Ned Browne, 1592, says: “I had no other fence but my short knife, and a paire of purse-strings.” Steevens. Mr. Dennis reads—thong; which has been followed, I think, improperly, by some of the modern editors. Sir Thomas Overbury's Characters, 1616, furnish us with a confirmation of the reading of the old copies: “The eye of this wolf is as quick in his head as a cutpurse in a throng.” Malone.

Note return to page 147 4&lblank; Pickt-hatch,] Is frequently mentioned by contemporary writers. So, in Ben Jonson's Every Man in His Humour: “From the Bordello it might come as well, “The Spital, or Pict-hatch.” Again, in Randolph's Muses Looking-glass, 1638: “&lblank; the Lordship of Turnbull, “Which with my Pict-hatch Grange, and Shore-ditch, farm,” &c. Pict-hatch was in Turnbull-street: “&lblank; your whore doth live “In Pict-hatch, Turnbull-street.” Amends for Ladies, a Comedy, by N. Field, 1618. The derivation of the word Pict-hatch may perhaps be discovered from the following passage in Cupid's Whirligig, 1607: “&lblank; Set some picks upon your hatch, and, I pray, profess to keep a bawdy-house.” Perhaps the unseasonable and obstreperous irruptions of the gallants of that age, might render such a precaution necessary. So, in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “&lblank; if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatch'd.” Steevens. Pict-hatch was a cant name of some part of the town noted for bawdy-houses; as appears from the following passage in Marston's Scourge for Villanie, lib. iii. sat. x.: “&lblank; Looke, who yon doth go; “The meager letcher lewd Luxurio.— “No newe edition of drabbes comes out, “But seen and allow'd by Luxurio's snout. “Did ever any man ere heare him talke “But of Pick-hatch, or of some Shoreditch baulke, “Aretine's filth,” &c. Sir T. Hanmer says, that this was “a noted harbour for thieves and pickpockets,” who certainly were proper companions for a man of Pistol's profession. But Falstaff here more immediately means to ridicule another of his friend's vices; and there is some humour in calling Pistol's favourite brothel, his manor of Pickt-hatch. Marston has another allusion to Pickt-hatch or Pick-hatch, which confirms this illustration: “&lblank; His old cynick dad “Hath forc'd him cleane forsake his Pick hatch drab.” Lib. i. sat. iii. T. Warton. Again, in Ben Jonson's Epig. xii. on Lieutenant Shift: “Shift, here in town, not meanest among squires “That haunt Pickt-hatch, Mersh Lambeth, and White fryers.” Again, in The Blacke Booke, 1604, 4to. Lucifer says: “I proceeded towards Pickt-hatch, intending to beginne their first, which (as I may fitly name it) is the very skirts of all Brothel-houses.” Douce.

Note return to page 148 5&lblank; ensconce your rags, &c.] A sconce is a petty fortification. To ensconce, therefore, is to protect as with a fort. The word occurs again in King Henry IV. Part I. Steevens.

Note return to page 149 6&lblank; red-lattice phrases,] Your ale-house conversation. Johnson. Red lattice at the doors and windows, were formerly the external denotements of an ale-house. So, in A fine Companion, one of Shackerley Marmion's plays: “A waterman's widow at the sign of the red lattice in Southwark.” Again, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “&lblank; his sign pulled down, and his lattice born away.” Again, in The Miseries of Inforc'd Marriage, 1607: “&lblank; 'tis treason to the red lattice, enemy to the signpost.” Hence the present chequers. Perhaps the reader will express some surprize, when he is told that shops, with the sign of the chequers, were common among the Romans. See a view of the left-hand street of Pompeii, (No. 9,) presented by Sir William Hamilton, (together with several others, equally curious,) to the Antiquary Society. Steevens. The following passage in Braithwaite's Strapado for the Divell, 1615, confirms Mr. Steevens's observation: “To the true discoverer of secrets, Monsieur Bacchus, master-gunner of the pottlepot ordnance, prime founder of red lattices,” &c. In King Henry IV. Part II. Falstaff's page, speaking of Bardolph, says, “he called me even now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window.” Malone. This designation of an ale-house is not altogether lost, though the original meaning of the word is, the sign being converted into a green lettuce; of which an instance occurs in Brownlow Street, Holborn.—In The Last Will and Testament of Lawrence Lucifer, the old Batchiler of Limbo, at the end of the “Blacke Booke,” 1604, 4to. is the following passage: “&lblank; watched sometimes ten houres together in an ale-house, ever and anon peeping forth, and sampling thy nose with the red Lattis.” Douce.

Note return to page 150 7&lblank; canaries,] This is the name of a brisk light dance, and therefore is properly enough used in low language for any hurry or perturbation. Johnson. So, Nash, in Pierce Pennyless his Supplication, 1595, says: “A merchant's wife jets it as gingerly, as if she were dancing the canaries.” It is highly probable, however, that canaries is only a mistake of Mrs. Quickly's for quandaries; and yet the Clown, in As You Like It, says, “we that are true lovers, run into strange capers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 151 8&lblank; lay at Windsor,] i. e. resided there. Malone.

Note return to page 152 9&lblank; earls, nay, which is more, pensioners;] This may be illustrated by a passage in Gervase Holles's Life of the First Earl of Clare, Biog. Brit. Art. Holles: “I have heard the Earl of Clare say, that when he was pensioner to the queen, he did not know a worse man of the whole band than himself; and that all the world knew he had then an inheritance of 4000l. a year.” Tyrwhitt. Barrett, in his Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, says that a pensioner was “a gentleman about his prince, alwaie redie, with his speare.” Steevens. Pensioners were Gentlemen of the band of Pensioners.—“In the month of December,” [1539] says Stowe, Annals, p. 973, edit. 1605, “were appointed to waite on the king's person fifty Gentlemen, called Pensioners, or Speares, like as they were in the first yeare of the king; unto whom was assigned the summe of fiftie pounds, yerely, for the maintenance of themselves, and everie man two horses, or one horse and a gelding of service.” Their dress was remarkably splendid, and therefore likely to attract the notice of Mrs. Quickly. Hence, [as both Mr. Steevens and Mr. T. Warton have observed,] in A Midsummer Night's Dream, our author has selected from all the tribes of flowers the golden-coated cowslips to be pensioners to the Fairy Queen: “The cowslips tall her pensioners be, “In their gold coats spots you see;” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 153 1&lblank; you wot of;] To wot is to know. Obsolete. So, in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; wot you what I found?” Steevens.

Note return to page 154 2&lblank; frampold &lblank;] This word I have never seen elsewhere, except in Dr. Hacket's Life of Archbishop Williams, where a frampul man signifies a peevish troublesome fellow. Johnson. In The Roaring Girl, a comedy, 1611, I meet with a word, which, though differently spelt, appears to be the same: “Lax. Coachman. “Coach. Anon, sir! “Lax. Are we fitted with good phrampell jades?” Ray, among his South and East country words, observes, that frampald, or frampard, signifies fretful, peevish, cross, froward. As froward (he adds) comes from from; so may frampard. Nash, in his Praise of the Red Herring, 1599, speaking of Leander, says: “the churlish frampold waves gave him his belly full of fish-broth.” Again, in The Inner Temple Masque, by Middleton, 1619: “&lblank; 'tis so frampole, the puritans will never yield to it.” Again, in The Blind Beggar of Bethnal-Green, by John Day: “I think the fellow's frampell,” &c. And, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at Several Weapons: “Is Pompey grown so malapert, so frampel?” Steevens. Thus, in The Isle of Gulls—“What a goodyer aile you, mother? are you frampull? know you not your own daughter?” Henley.

Note return to page 155 3&lblank; to send her your little page, of all loves;] Of all loves, is an adjuration only, and signifies no more than if she had said, ‘desires you to send him by all means.’ It is used in Decker's Honest Whore, P. I. 1635:—“conjuring his wife, of all lovers, to prepare cheer fitting,” &c. Again, in Holinshed's Chronicle, p. 1064: “Mrs. Arden desired him, of all loves, to come backe againe.” Again, in Othello, Act III.: “&lblank; the general so likes your musick, that he desires you, of all loves, to make no more noise with it.” A similar phrase occurs in a Letter from Gilbert Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury. See Lodge's Illustrations, &c. vol. ii. 101: “I earnestly desyred him, of all friendshipp, to tell me whether he had harde any thing to ye contrary.” Again, ibid.: “He charged me, of all love, that I should kepe this secrete.” Steevens.

Note return to page 156 4&lblank; a nay-word,] i. e. a watch-word. So, in a subsequent scene: “We have a nay-word to know one another,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 157 5This punk is one of Cupid's carriers: &lblank;] Punk is a plausible reading, yet absurd on examination. For are not all punks Cupid's carriers? Shakspeare certainly wrote: “This pink is one of Cupid's carriers:” And then the sense is proper, and the metaphor, which is all the way taken from the marine, entire. A pink is a vessel of the small craft, employed as a carrier (and so called) for merchants. Fletcher uses the word in his Tamer Tamed: “This pink, this painted foist, this cockle-boat.” Warburton. So, in The Ladies' Privilege, 1610: “These gentlemen know better to cut a caper than a cable, or board a pink in the bordells, than a pinnace at sea.” A small salmon is called a salmon-pink. Dr. Farmer, however, observes, that the word punk has been unnecessarily altered to pink. In Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, Justice Overdo says of the pig-woman: “She hath been before me, punk, pinnace, and bawd, any time these two-and-twenty years.” Steevens.

Note return to page 158 6&lblank; up with your fights;] So again, in Fletcher's Tamer Tamed: “To hang her fights out, and defy me, friends! “A well-known man of war.”— As to the word fights, both in the text and in the quotation, it was then, and, for aught I know, may be now, a common sea-term. Sir Richard Hawkins, in his Voyages, p. 66, says: “For once we cleared her deck; and had we been able to have spared but a dozen men, doubtless we had done with her what we would; for she had no close fights,” i. e. if I understand it right, no small arms. So that by fights is meant any manner of defence, either small arms or cannon. So, Dryden, in his tragedy of Amboyna: “Up with your fights, “And your nettings prepare,” &c. Warburton. The quotation from Dryden might at least have raised a suspicion that fights were neither small arms, nor cannon. Fights and nettings are properly joined. Fights, I find, are clothes hung round the ship to conceal the men from the enemy; and close-fights are bulk-heads, or any other shelter that the fabrick of a ship affords. Johnson. So, in Heywood and Rowley's comedy, called Fortune by Land and Sea: “&lblank; display'd their ensigns, up with all their feights, their matches in their cocks,” &c. Again, in The Christian turned Turk, 1612: “Lace the netting, and let down the fights, make ready the shot,” &c. Again, in The Fair Maid of the West, 1615: “Then now up with your fights, and let your ensigns, “Blest with St. George's cross, play with the winds.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentinian: “&lblank; while I were able to endure a tempest, “And bear my fights out bravely, till my tackle “Whistled i' th' wind &lblank;.” This passage may receive an additional and perhaps a somewhat different illustration from John Smith's Sea-Grammar, 4to. 1627. In p. 58 he says: “But if you see your chase strip himself into fighting sailes, that is, to put out his colours in the poope, his flag in the maine top, his streamers or pendants at the end of his yards' arms, &c. provide yourself to fight.” Again, p. 60: “Thus they use to strip themselves into their short sailes, or fighting sailes, which is only the fore sail, the maine and fore top sailes, because the rest should not be fired or spoiled; besides they would be troublesome to handle, hinder our sights and the using of our armes: he makes ready his close fights fore and aft.” In a former passage, p. 58, he has said that “a ship's close fights are small ledges of wood laid crosse one another, like the grates of iron in a prison's window, betwixt the maine mast and the fore mast, and are called gratings or nettings,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 159 7&lblank; one master Brook below would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath sent your worship a morning's draught of sack.] It seems to have been a common custom at taverns, in our author's time, to send presents of wine from one room to another, either as a memorial of friendship, or (as in the present instance) by way of introduction to acquaintance. Of the existence of this practice the following anecdote of Ben Jonson and Bishop Corbet furnishes a proof: “Ben Jonson was at a tavern, and in comes Bishop Corbet (but not so then) into the next room. Ben Jonson calls for a quart of raw wine, and gives it to the tapster. ‘Sirrah,’ says he, ‘carry this to the gentleman in the next chamber, and tell him, I sacrifice my service to him.’ The fellow did, and in those words. ‘Friend,’ says Dr. Corbet, ‘I thank him for his love: but 'pr'ythee tell him from me that he is mistaken; for sacrifices are always burnt.” Merry Passages and Jeasts, MSS. Harl.6395. Malone. This practice was continued as late as the Restoration. In the Parliamentary History, vol. xxii. p. 114, we have the following passage from Dr. Price's Life of General Monk: “I came to the Three Tuns before Guildhall, where the general had quartered two nights before. I entered the tavern with a servant and portmanteau, and asked for a room, which I had scarce got into but wine followed me as a present from some citizens, desiring leave to drink their morning's draught with me.” Reed.

Note return to page 160 8&lblank; go to; via!] This cant phrase of exultation or defiance, is common in the old plays. So, in Blurt Master Constable: “Via for fate! Fortune, lo! this is all.” Steevens. Markham uses this word as one of the vocal helps necessary for reviving a horse's spirits in galloping large rings, when he grows slothful. Hence this cant phrase (perhaps from the Italian, via,) may be used on other occasions to quicken or pluck-up courage. Tollet.

Note return to page 161 9&lblank; not to charge you;] That is, not with a purpose of putting you to expence, or being burthensome. Johnson.

Note return to page 162 1&lblank; sith &lblank;] i. e. since. Steevens.

Note return to page 163 2&lblank; meed,] i. e. reward. So Spenser: “A rosy garland was the victor's meed.” Again, in our author's Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Vouchsafe me for my meed but one fair look.” Steevens.

Note return to page 164 3Love like a shadow flies, when substance love pursues; Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.] These lines have much the air of a quotation, but I know not whether they belong to any contemporary writer. In Florio's Second Fruites, 1591, I find the following verses: Di donna é, et sempre fu natura, Odiar chi l'ama, e chi non l'ama cura. Again: &lblank; Sono simili a crocodilli, Chi per prender l'huomo, piangono, e preso la devorano, Chi le fugge seguono, e chi le segue fuggono. Thus translated by Florio: “&lblank; they are like crocodiles, “They weep to winne, and wonne they cause to die, “Follow men flying, and men following fly.” Malone. Thus also in a Sonnet by Queen Elizabeth, preserved in the Ashmole Museum: “My care is like my shaddowe in the sunne, “Follows me fliinge, flies when I pursue it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 165 4&lblank; of great admittance,] i. e. admitted into all, or the greatest companies. Steevens.

Note return to page 166 5&lblank; generally allowed &lblank;] Allowed is approved. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; if your sweet sway “Allow obedience,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 167 6&lblank; to lay an amiable siege &lblank;] i. e. a siege of love. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; the siege of loving terms.” Malone.

Note return to page 168 7She is too bright to be looked against.] Nimium lubricus aspici. Hor. Malone.

Note return to page 169 8&lblank; instance and argument &lblank;] Instance is example. Johnson.

Note return to page 170 9&lblank; the ward of her purity,] i. e. The defence of it. Steevens. What Ford means to say is, that if he could once detect her in a crime, he should then be able to drive her from those defences with which she would otherwise ward off his addresses, such as her purity, her reputation, her marriage vow, &c. So, in The Winter's Tale, Hermione, speaking of Polixenes, says to Leontes: “&lblank; Tell him, you're sure “All in Bohemia's well,” &c. “Say this to him. “He's beat from his best ward.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 171 *First folio omits Master Brook.

Note return to page 172 1&lblank; and I will aggravate his stile;] Stile is a phrase from the Herald's office. Falstaff means, that he will add more titles to those he already enjoys. So, in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611: “I will create lords of a greater style.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. 2: “As to abandon that which doth contain “Your honour's stile, that is, your warlike shield.” Steevens

Note return to page 173 2&lblank; Amaimon—Barbason,] The reader who is curious to know any particulars concerning these dæmons, may find them in Reginald Scott's Inventarie of the Names, Shapes, Powers, Governments, and Effects of Devils and Spirits, of their several Segnories and Degrees: a strange Discourse worth the reading, p. 377, &c. From hence it appears that Amaimon was king of the East, and Barbatos, a great countie or earle. Randle Holme, however, in his Academy of Armory and Blazon, b. ii. ch. 1. informs us, that “Amaymon is the chief whose dominion is on the north part of the infernal gulph; and that Barbatos is like a Sagittarius, and hath 30 legions under him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 174 3&lblank; wittol-cuckold!] One who knows his wife's falsehood, and is contented with it:—from wittan, Sax. to know. Malone.

Note return to page 175 4&lblank; an Irishman with my aqua-vitæ bottle,] Heywood, in his Challenge for Beauty, 1636, mentions the love of aqua-vitæ as characteristic of the Irish: “The Briton he metheglin quaffs, “The Irish aqua-vitæ.” The Irish aqua-vitæ, I believe, was not brandy, but usquebaugh, for which Ireland has been long celebrated. Malone. Dericke, in The Image of Ireland, 1581, Sign. F 2, mentions Uskebeaghe, and in a note explains it to mean aqua vitæ. Reed.

Note return to page 176 5&lblank; Eleven o'clock &lblank;] Ford should rather have said ten o'clock: the time was between ten and eleven; and his impatient suspicion was not likely to stay beyond the time. Johnson. It was necessary for the plot that he should mistake the hour, and come too late. M. Mason. It is necessary for the business of the piece that Falstaff should be at Ford's house before his return. Hence our author made him name the later hour. See Act III. Sc. II.: “The clock gives me my cue;—there I shall find Falstaff.” When he says above, “I shall prevent this,” he means, not the meeting, but his wife's effecting her purpose. Malone.

Note return to page 177 6&lblank; to see thee foin,] To foin, I believe, was the ancient term for making a thrust in fencing, or tilting. So, in The Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638: “I had my wards, and foins, and quarter-blows.” Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “&lblank; suppose my duellist “Should falsify the foine upon me thus, “Here will I take him.” Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, often uses the word foin. So, in b. ii. c. 8: “And strook'd and foyn'd, and lashed outrageously.” Again, in Holinshed, p. 833: “First six foines with handspeares,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 178 7&lblank; thy stock,] Stock is a corruption of stocata, Ital. from which language the technical terms that follow are likewise adopted. Steevens.

Note return to page 179 8&lblank; my Francisco?] He means, my Frenchman. The quarto reads—my Francoyes. Malone.

Note return to page 180 9&lblank; my heart of elder?] It should be remembered, to make this joke relish, that the elder tree has no heart. I suppose this expression was made use of in opposition to the common one, heart of oak. Steevens.

Note return to page 181 1&lblank; bully Stale?] The reason why Caius is called bully Stale, and afterwards Urinal, must be sufficiently obvious to every reader, and especially to those whose credulity and weakness have enrolled them among the patients of the present German empiric, who calls himself Doctor Alexander Mayersbach. Steevens.

Note return to page 182 2&lblank; Castilian &lblank;] Sir T. Hanmer reads—Cardalian, as used corruptedly for Cœur de Lion. Johnson. Castilian and Ethiopian, like Cataian, appear in our author's time to have been cant terms. I have met with them in more than one of the old comedies. So, in a description of the Armada introduced in the Stately Moral of the Three Lords of London, 1590: “To carry, as it were, a careless regard of these Castilians, and their accustomed bravado.” Again: “To parley with the proud Castilians.” I suppose Castilian was the cant term for Spaniard in general. Steevens. I believe this was a popular slur upon the Spaniards, who were held in great contempt after the business of the Armada. Thus we have a Treatise Parænetical, wherein is shewed the right Way to resist the Castilian King; and a sonnet prefixed to Lea's Answer to the Untruths published in Spain, in glorie of thèir supposed Victory atchieved against our English Navie, begins: “Thou fond Castilian king!”—and so in other places. Farmer. Dr. Farmer's observation is just. Don Philip the Second affected the title of King of Spain; but the realms of Spain would not agree to it, and only styled him King of Castile and Leon, &c. and so he wrote himself. His cruelty and ambitious views upon other states rendered him universally detested. The Castilians, being descended chiefly from Jews and Moors, were deemed to be of a malign and perverse disposition; and hence, perhaps, the term Castilian became opprobrious. I have extracted this note from an old pamphlet, called The Spanish Pilgrime, which I have reason to suppose is the same discourse with the Treatise Parænetical, mentioned by Dr. Farmer. Tollet. Dr. Farmer, I believe, is right. The Host, who, availing himself of the poor Doctor's ignorance of English phraseology, applies to him all kinds of opprobrious terms, here means to call him a coward. So, in The Three Lords of London, 1590: “My lordes, what means these gallantes to performe? “Come these Castillian cowards but to brave? “Do all these mountains move, to breed a mouse?” There may, however, be also an allusion to his profession, as a water-caster. I know not whether we should not rather point—Thou art a Castillian, king-urinal! &c. Malone.

Note return to page 183 3&lblank; against the hair, &c.] This phrase is proverbial, and is taken from stroking the hair of animals a contrary way to that in which it grows. So, in T. Churchyard's Discourse of Rebellion, &c. 1570: “You shoote amis when boe is drawen to eare, “And brush the cloth full sore against the heare.” We now say against the grain. Steevens.

Note return to page 184 *First folio omits word.

Note return to page 185 4&lblank; Muck-water.] The old copy reads—mock-water. Steevens. The Host means, I believe, to reflect on the inspection of urine, which made a considerable part of practical physick in that time; yet I do not well see the meaning of mock-water. Johnson. Dr. Farmer judiciously proposes to read—muck-water, i. e. the drain of a dunghill. Henry Cornelius Agrippa, of the Vanitie and Uncertainty of Arts and Sciences, Englished by James Sanford, Gent. bl. l. 4to. 1569, might have furnished Shakspeare with a sufficient hint for the compound term muck-water, applied by Dr. Caius. Dr. Farmer's emendation is completely countenanced by the same work, p. 145: “Furthermore, Phisitians oftentimes be contagious by reason of urine,” &c. but the rest of the passage (in which the names of Esculapius, Hippocrates, &c. are ludicrously introduced) is too indelicate to be laid before the reader. Steevens. Muck-water, as explained by Dr. Farmer, is mentioned in Evelyn's Philosophical Discourse on Earth, 1676, p. 160. Reed.

Note return to page 186 5&lblank; clapper-claw &lblank;] This word occurs also in Tom Tyler and his Wife, bl. l.: “Wife. I would clapper-claw thy bones.” Steevens.

Note return to page 187 6&lblank; throw cold water on thy choler:] So, in Hamlet: “Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper “Sprinkle cool patience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 188 7&lblank; cry'd game, said I well?] Mr. Theobald alters this nonsense to try'd game; that is, to nonsense of a worse complexion. Shakspeare wrote and pointed thus, cry aim, said I well? i. e. consent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good proposal? for to cry aim signifies to consent to, or approve of any thing. So, again in this play: And to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim, i. e. approve them. And again, in King John, Act II. Sc. II.: “It ill becomes this presence to cry aim “To these ill-tuned repetitions.” i. e. to approve of, or encourage them. The phrase was taken, originally, from archery. When any one had challenged another to shoot at the butts, (the perpetual diversion, as well as exercise, of that time,) the standers-by used to say one to the other, Cry aim, i. e. accept the challenge. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Fair Maid of the Inn, Act V. make the Duke say: “&lblank; must I cry aime “To this unheard of insolence?”— i. e. encourage it, and agree to the request of the duel, which one of his subjects had insolently demanded against the other.—But here it is remarkable, that the senseless editors, not knowing what to make of the phrase, Cry aim, read it thus: “&lblank; must I cry ai-me;” as if it was a note of interjection. So, again, Massinger, in his Guardian: “I will cry aim, and in another room “Determine of my vengeance.”— And again, in his Renegado: “&lblank; to play the pander “To the viceroy's loose embraces, and cry aim, “While he by force or flattery,” &c. But the Oxford editor transforms it to Cock o' the Game; and his improvements of Shakspeare's language abound with these modern elegances of speech, such as mynheers, bull-baitings, &c. Warburton. Dr. Warburton is right in his explanation of cry aim, and in supposing that the phrase was taken from archery; but is certainly wrong in the particular practice which he assigns for the original of it. It seems to have been the office of the aim-crier, to give notice to the archer when he was within a proper distance of his mark, or in a direct line with it, and to point out why he failed to strike it. So, in All's Lost by Lust, 1633: “He gives me aim, I am three bows too short; “I'll come up nearer next time.” Again, in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “I'll give aim to you, “And tell how near you shoot.” Again, in The Spanish Gipsie, by Rowley and Middleton, 1653: “Though I am no great mark in respect of a huge butt, yet I can tell you, great bobbers have shot at me, and shot golden arrows; but I myself gave aim, thus:—wide, four bows; short, three and a half;” &c. Again, in Green's Tu Quoque, (no date) “We'll stand by, and give aim, and holoo if you hit the clout.” Again, in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “Thou smiling aim-crier at princes' fall.” Again, ibid.: “&lblank; while her own creatures, like aim criers, beheld her mischance with nothing but lip-pity.” In Ames's Typographical Antiquities, p. 402, a book is mentioned, called “Ayme for Finsburie Archers, or an Alphabetical Table of the name of every Mark in the same Fields, with their true Distances, both by the Map and the Dimensuration of the Line, &c. 1594.” Shakspeare uses the phrase again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, scene the last, where it undoubtedly means to encourage: “Behold her that gave aim to all thy vows.” So, in The Palsgrave, by W. Smith, 1615: “Shame to us all, if we give aim to that.” Again, in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1607: “A mother to give aim to her own daughter!” Again, in Fenton's Tragical Discourses, bl. l. 1567: “Standyng rather in his window to—crye ayme, than helpyng any waye to part the fraye,” p. 165. b. The original and literal meaning of this expression may be ascertained from some of the foregoing examples, and its figurative one from the rest; for, as Dr. Warburton observes, it can mean nothing in these latter instances, but to consent to, approve, or encourage.—It is not, however, the reading of Shakspeare in the passage before us, and, therefore, we must strive to produce some sense from the words which we find there—cry'd game. We yet say, in colloquial language, that such a one is—game— or game to the back. There is surely no need of blaming Theobald's emendation with such severity. Cry'd game might mean, in those days,—a professed buck, one who was as well known by the report of his gallantry, as he could have been by proclamation. Thus, in Troilus and Cressida: “On whose bright crest, fame, with her loud'st O-yes, “Cries, this is he.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; find what you seek, “That fame may cry you loud.” Again, in Ford's Lover's Melancholy, 1629: “A gull, an arrant gull by proclamation.” Again, in King Lear: “A proclaimed prize.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.” Cock of the Game, however, is not, as Dr. Warburton pronounces it, a modern elegancy of speech, for it is found in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. xii. c. 74: “This cocke of game, and (as might seeme) this hen of that same fether.” Again, in The Martial Maid, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “O craven chicken of a cock o' the game!” And in many other places. Steevens.

Note return to page 189 8&lblank; the city-ward,] The old editions read—the Pittie-ward, the modern editors the Pitty-wary. There is now no place that answers to either name at Windsor. The author might possibly have written (as I have printed) the City-ward, i. e. towards London. In the Itinerarium, however, of William de Worcestre, p. 251, the following account of distances in the city of Bristol occurs: “Via de Pyttey a Pyttey-yate, porta vocata Nether Pittey, usque antiquam portam Pyttey usque viam ducentem ad Wynchstrete continet 140 gressus,” &c. &c. The word—Pittey, therefore, which seems unintelligible to us, might anciently have had an obvious meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 190 9To shallow rivers, &c.] This is part of a beautiful little poem of the author's; which poem, and the answer to it, the reader will not be displeased to find here. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. “Come live with me, and be my love, “And we will all the pleasures prove “That hills and vallies, dale and field, “And all the craggy mountains yield. “There will we sit upon the rocks, “And see the shepherds feed their flocks, “By shallow rivers, by whose falls “Melodious birds sing madrigals: “There will I make thee beds of roses “With a thousand fragrant posies, “A cap of flowers, and a kirtle “Imbroider'd all with leaves of myrtle; “A gown made of the finest wool, “Which from our pretty lambs we pull; “Fair lined slippers for the cold, “With buckles of the purest gold; “A belt of straw, and ivy buds, “With coral clasps, and amber studs: “And if these pleasures may thee move, “Come live with me, and be my love. “Thy silver dishes for thy meat, “As precious as the gods do eat, “Shall on an ivory table be “Prepar'd each day for thee and me. “The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, “For thy delight each May morning: “If these delights thy mind may move, “Then live with me and be my love* [Subnote: *The conclusion of this and the following poem seem to have furnished Milton with the hint for the last lines both of his Allegro and Penseroso. Steevens.] .” THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD. “If that the world and love were young, “And truth in every shepherd's tongue, “These pretty pleasures might me move “To live with thee, and be thy love. “But time drives flocks from field to fold, “When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold, “And Philomel becometh dumb, “And all complain of cares to come: “The flowers do fade, and wanton fields “To wayward winter reckoning yields. “A honey tongue, a heart of gall, “Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. “Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, “Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, “Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, “In folly ripe, in reason rotten. “Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, “Thy coral clasps, and amber studs; “All these in me no means can move “To come to thee, and be thy love. “What should we talk of dainties then, “Of better meat than's fit for men? “These are but vain: that's only good “Which God hath bless'd, and sent for food. “But could youth last, and love still breed, “Had joys no date, and age no need; “Then these delights my mind might move “To live with thee, and be thy love.” These two poems, which Dr. Warburton gives to Shakspeare, are, by writers nearer that time, disposed of, one to Marlow, the other to Raleigh. They are read in different copies with great variations. Johnson. In England's Helicon, a collection of love-verses printed in Shakspeare's life-time, viz. in quarto, 1600, the first of them is given to Marlowe, the second to Ignoto; and Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, observes, that there is good reason to believe that (not Shakspeare, but) Christopher Marlowe wrote the song, and Sir Walter Raleigh the Nymph's Reply; for so we are positively assured by Isaac Walton, a writer of some credit, who has inserted them both in his Compleat Angler, under the character of “That smooth song which was made by Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty years ago; and an answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days . . . . . Old fashioned poetry, but choicely good.” See The Reliques, &c. vol. i. p. 218, 221, third edit. In Shakspeare's sonnets, printed by Jaggard, 1599, this poem was imperfectly published, and attributed to Shakspeare. Mr. Malone, however, observes, that “What seems to ascertain it to be Marlowe's, is, that one of the lines is found (and not as a quotation) in a play of his—The Jew of Malta; which, though not printed till 1633, must have been written before 1593, as he died in that year:” “Thou in those groves, by Dis above, “Shall live with me, and be my love.” Steevens. Evans in his panick mis-recites the lines, which in the original run thus: “There will we sit upon the rocks, “And see the shepherds feed their flocks, “By shallow rivers, to whose falls “Melodious birds sing madrigals: “There will I make thee beds of roses “With a thousand fragrant posies,” &c. In the modern editions the verses sung by Sir Hugh have been corrected, I think, improperly. His mis-recitals were certainly intended.—He sings on the present occasion, to shew that he is not afraid. So Bottom, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear, I am not afraid.” Malone. A late editor has observed that Evans in his panick sings, like Bottom, to shew he is not afraid. It is rather to keep up his spirits; as he sings in Simple's absence, when he has “a great dispositions to cry.” Ritson. The tune to which the former was sung, I have lately discovered in a MS. as old as Shakspeare's time, and it is as follows: Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove that hills and vallies, dale and field, and all the craggy mountains yield. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 191 1When as I sat in Pabylon, &lblank;] This line is from the old version of the 137th Psalm: “When we did sit in Babylon,   “The rivers round about, “Then, in remembrance of Sion,   “The tears for grief burst out.” The word rivers, in the second line, may be supposed to have been brought to Sir Hugh's thoughts by the line of Marlowe's madrigal that he has just repeated; and in his fright he blends the sacred and profane song together. The old quarto has— “There lived a man in Babylon;” which was the first line of an old song, mentioned in Twelfth Night:—but the other line is more in character. Malone.

Note return to page 192 2I have lived fourscore years, and upward;] We must certainly read—threescore. In The Second Part of King Henry IV. during Falstaff's interview with Master Shallow, in his way to York, which Shakspeare has evidently chosen to fix in 1412, (though the Archbishop's insurrection actually happened in 1405,) Silence observes that it was then fifty-five years since the latter went to Clement's Inn; so that, supposing him to have begun his studies at sixteen, he would be born in 1341, and, consequently, be a very few years older than John of Gaunt, who, we may recollect, broke his head in the tilt-yard. But, besides this little difference in age, John of Gaunt at eighteen or nineteen would be above six feet high, and poor Shallow, with all his apparel, might have been truss'd into an eelskin. Dr. Johnson was of opinion that the present play ought to be read between the First and Second Part of Henry IV. an arrangement liable to objections which that learned and eminent critick would have found it very difficult, if not altogether impossible, to surmount. But, let it be placed where it may, the scene is clearly laid between 1402, when Shallow would be sixty-one, and 1412, when he had the meeting with Falstaff: Though one would not, to be sure, from what passes upon that occasion, imagine the parties had been together so lately at Windsor; much less that the Knight had ever beaten his worship's keepers, kill'd his deer, and broke open his lodge. The alteration now proposed, however, is in all events necessary; and the rather so, as Falstaff must be nearly of the same age with Shallow, and fourscore seems a little too late in life for a man of his kidney to be making love to, and even supposing himself admired by, two at a time, travelling in a buck-basket, thrown into a river, going to the wars, and making prisoners. Indeed, he has luckily put the matter out of all doubt, by telling us, in The First Part of King Henry IV. that his age was “some fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore.” Ritson. The foregoing note, and many others of the same writer, afford ample proof, that something more is requisite to form a sound commentary on these plays, than mere antiquarian research; and that this kind of knowledge, though admirably useful when properly employed, if not regulated by taste and judgment, is not only of no value, but often darkens, instead of illustrating the subject to which it is applied, and bewilders and misleads, instead of instructing the reader. Shakspeare unquestionably never much troubled himself with minute historical researches, as appears from his frequently deviating from the truth of history; in which doubtless he conceived that he was sufficiently warranted by that licence which has always been assumed by dramatick poets in the construction of pieces intended for stage exhibition. But, in the present instance, he has departed from no historical fact. Shallow was a creature entirely of his own imagination; and if he had no scruple in deviating from historical truth, in speaking of the age of Cicely, Duchess of York,—a real character,—(if indeed he knew her age with any degree of exactness, which I much doubt,) he certainly would have none in the play before us, with respect to his fictitious Gloucestershire Justice; with whatever semblance of real life he might clothe him, and in what period soever of the reign of King Edward the Fourth, he might, in another play, have placed him in Clement's-Inn. The truth is, throughout his plays, when he speaks of very aged persons, or of those whom he chooses to represent as such; whether those persons be real or fictitious, he uses the terms of almost fourscore years, or fourscore, or fourscore and upwards, as a general designation of extreme age, without any consideration of the precise and true age of him or her spoken of, or speaking, even when the character is historical; and à fortiori, without paying the least attention to such circumstances as are assembled in the preceding remark, when the character is of his own formation. Thus, in King Richard III. the Duchess of York says, “And I with grief and extreme age shall perish—” And again: “Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, “And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.” These words are supposed to be spoken by Cicely, Duchess of York, in 1583. But at that time, she was not past eighty, but sixty-eight years old; for she was born on the 3d May, 1415. See Wylhelmi Wyrcester Annales, apud lib. Nig. Scaccarii, p. 453, edit. 1771. King Lear, speaking of himself as a very old man, does not say, that he is seventy or ninety, but fourscore and upward, and most assuredly Shakspeare, in this description, was not guided by any historical document. Geffrey of Monmouth tells us, that he began to be infirm through old age about three years after he had divided his kingdom between his two elder daughters. After their ill-treatment of him, he went to France, and returned with his youngest daughter, Cordeilla, and her husband, Aganippus, king of France, who, in conjunction with Lear, fought a battle with the old king's sons-in-law, and routed them, which is scarcely consistent with the age which our poet has assigned to him at the very time of that event. If Shakspeare could be questioned on this subject, he probably would reply,—“I never tied myself down to the observance of such rigid rules as my hypercriticks have devised for me: I merely meant to describe King Lear as a very old man, without inquiring when he was born.” So much for history. Now let us review the fictitious old men created by himself; and we shall find them also uniformly represented, either as “almost fourscore,” or “fourscore,” or “fourscore and upwards.” Thus Adam, in As You Like It: “From seventeen years till now almost fourscore, “Here lived I, but now must live no more.” So also, in The Winter's Tale, the old Shepherd says to Florizel: “O sir, you have undone a man of fourscore years.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “He is very often like a knight: and generally in all shapes that man goes up and down in, from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.” Again, in King Lear, when Gloucester, after he has lost his eyes, desires the old man by whom he is led to be gone; he replies, “O my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore years.” To all these instances is to be added the passage before us; and when they are thus viewed together, no doubt, I apprehend, can remain, that this was, in Shakspeare's conception, a proper description for an aged person; and that when he makes Shallow say in the present scene, “I have lived fourscore years and upward,” he merely meant to describe him as a very old man, without considering whether that description would precisely quadrate with the circumstances to which he has made him refer in the several dialogues in which Shallow bears a part in other dramas where he is exhibited, or with his own express and particular statement of his age in the Second Part of King Henry IV. Nor was this a peculiar fancy of Shakspeare; for such, we find, was the usage of other poets, his contemporaries. Thus Bishop Corbet, in his Iter Boreale, which was written at some time between 1614 and 1620: “The inkeeper was old, fourscore almost, “Indeed an emblem, rather than an host.” I may add, that our ancestors were so much in the habit of counting by scores, that the word eighty, though that period of life was so common a designation of old age, does not occur in the last (and probably in no former) translation of the Bible; and our poet, we find, never once employs the word as applied to age, except in the single instance quoted above from King Richard III where he adopted it for the sake of a smoother versification. In like manner, Shallow, in the Second Part of King Henry IV. boasts of hitting a mark at fourscore yards' distance; and in Measure for Measure, Master Froth is described as possessing not eighty, but fourscore pounds a year. Malone.

Note return to page 193 3&lblank; for missing your meetings and appointments.] These words, which are not in the folio, were recovered from the quarto by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 194 4Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French and Welch;] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—Gallia and Wallia: but it is objected that Wallia is not easily corrupted into Gaul. Possibly the word was written Guallia. Farmer. Thus, in K. Henry VI. P. II. Gualtier for Walter. Steevens. The quarto 1602 confirms Dr. Farmer's conjecture. It reads— “Peace I say, Gawle and Gawlia, French and Welch,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 195 5&lblank; make-a de sot of us?] Sot, in French, signifies a fool. Malone.

Note return to page 196 6&lblank; scall, scurvy,] Scall was an old word of reproach, as scab was afterwards. Chaucer imprecates on his scrivener: “Under thy longe lockes mayest thou have the scalle.” Johnson. Scall, as Dr. Johnson interprets it, is a scab breaking out in the hair, and approaching nearly to the leprosy. It is used by other writers of Shakspeare's time. You will find what was to be done by persons afflicted with it, by looking into Leviticus, ch. 13, v. 30, 31, et seqq. Whalley.

Note return to page 197 7A man may hear this shower sing in the wind!] This phrase has already occurred in The Tempest, Act II. Sc. II.: “I hear it sing in the wind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 198 8&lblank; so seeming mistress Page,] Seeming is specious. So, in K. Lear: “If ought within that little seeming substance.” Again, in Measure for Measure, Act I. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; Hence shall we see, “If power change purpose, what our seemers be.” Steevens.

Note return to page 199 9&lblank; shall cry aim.] i. e. shall encourage. So, in King John, Act II. Sc. I.: “It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim “To these ill-tuned repetitions.” The phrase, as I have already observed, is taken from archery. See note on the last scene of the preceding act, where Dr. Warburton would read—cry aim, instead of—“cry'd game.” Steevens.

Note return to page 200 1&lblank; as the earth is firm,] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Thou sure and firm-set earth &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 201 2We have lingered &lblank;] They have not lingered very long. The match was proposed by Sir Hugh but the day before. Johnson. Shallow represents the affair as having been long in hand, that he may better excuse himself and Slender from accepting Ford's invitation on the day when it was to be concluded. Steevens.

Note return to page 202 3&lblank; he writes verses, he speaks holyday,] i. e. in an high-flown, fustian-style. It was called a holy-day style, from the old custom of acting their farces of the mysteries and moralities, which were turgid and bombast, on holy-days. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “I cannot woo in festival terms.” And again, in The Merchant of Venice: “Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.” Warburton. I suspect that Dr. Warburton's supposition that this phrase is derived from the season of acting the old mysteries, is but an holy-day hypothesis; and have preserved his note only for the sake of the passages he quotes. Fenton is not represented as a talker of bombast. He speaks holiday, I believe, means only, his language is more curious and affectedly chosen than that used by ordinary men. Malone. So, in King Henry IV. P. I.: “With many holiday and lady terms.” Steevens. To speak holyday must mean to speak out of the common road, superior to the vulgar; alluding to the better dress worn on such days. Ritson.

Note return to page 203 4&lblank; he smells April and May:] This was the phraseology of the time; not “he smells of April,” &c. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; he would mouth with a beggar of fifty, though she smelt brown bread and garlick.” Malone.

Note return to page 204 5&lblank; 'tis in his buttons;] Alluding to an ancient custom among the country fellows, of trying whether they should succeed with their mistresses, by carrying the batchelor's buttons (a plant of the Lychnis kind, whose flowers resemble a coat button in form,) in their pockets. And they judged of their good or bad success by their growing, or their not growing there. Smith. Greene mentions these batchelor's buttons, in his Quip for an Upstart Courtier: “I saw the batchelor's buttons, whose virtue is, to make wanton maidens weep, when they have worne them forty weeks under their aprons,” &c. The same expression occurs in Heywood's Fair Maid of the West, 1631: “He wears batchelor's buttons, does he not?” Again, in The Constant Maid, by Shirley, 1640: “I am a batchelor. “I pray, let me be one of your buttons still then.” Again, in A Fair Quarrel, by Middleton and Rowley, 1617: “I'll wear my batchelor's buttons still.” Again, in A Woman Never Vex'd, comedy, by Rowley, 1632: “Go, go and rest on Venus' violets; shew her “A dozen of batchelors' buttons, boy.” Again, in Westward Hoe, 1606: “Here's my husband, and no batchelor's buttons are at his doublet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 205 6&lblank; of no having;] Having is the same as estate or fortune. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “Of noble having, and of royal hope.” Again, Twelfth Night: “&lblank; My having is not much; “I'll make division of my present with you: “Hold, there is half my coffer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 206 7Host. Farewell, my hearts: I will to my honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him. Ford. [Aside.] I think, I shall drink in pipe-wine first with him; I'll make him dance.] To drink in pipe-wine is a phrase which I cannot understand. May we not suppose that Shakspeare rather wrote, “I think I shall drink horn-pipe wine first with him: I'll make him dance?” Canary is the name of a dance, as well as of a wine. Ford lays hold of both senses; but, for an obvious reason, makes the dance a horn-pipe. It has been already remarked, that Shakspeare has frequent allusions to a cuckold's horns. Tyrwhitt. So, in Pasquil's Night-Cap, 1612, p. 118: “It is a great comfort to a cuckold's chance “That many thousands doe the Hornepipe dance.” Steevens. Pipe is known to be a vessel of wine, now containing two hogsheads. Pipe-wine is therefore wine, not from the bottle, but the pipe; and the jest consists in the ambiguity of the word, which signifies both a cask of wine, and a musical instrument. Johnson. The jest here lies in a mere play of words. “I'll give him pipe-wine, which shall make him dance.” Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens. The phrase,—“to drink in pipe-wine”—always seemed to me a very strange one, till I met with the following passage in King James's first speech to his parliament, in 1604; by which it appears that “to drink in” was the phraseology of the time: “&lblank; who either, being old, have retained their first drunken-in liquor,” &c. Malone. I have seen the phrase often in books of Shakspeare's time, but neglected to mark down the passages. One of them I have lately recovered: “If he goe to the taverne they will not onely make him paie for the wine, but for all he drinks in besides.” Greene's Ghost Haunting Conicatcher's, 1602, sign. B 4.—The following also, though of somewhat latter authority, will confirm Mr. Malone's observation: “A player acting upon a stage a man killed; but being troubled with an extreme cold, as he was lying upon the stage fell a coughing; the people laughing, he rushed up, ran off the stage, saying, thus it is for a man to drink in porridge, for then he will be sure to cough in his grave.” Jocabella, or a Cabinet of Conceits, by Robert Chamberlaine, 1640, No. 84. Reed.

Note return to page 207 8&lblank; the whitsters &lblank;] i. e. the blanchers of linen. Douce.

Note return to page 208 9How now, my eyas-musket?] Eyas is a young unfledg'd hawk; I suppose from the Italian Niaso, which originally signified any young bird taken from the nest unfledg'd, afterwards a young hawk. The French, from hence, took their niais, and used it in both those significations; to which they added a third, metaphorically, a silly fellow; un garçon fort niais, un niais. Musket signifies a sparrow hawk, or the smallest species of hawks. This too is from the Italian Muschetto, a small hawk, as appears from the original signification of the word, namely, a troublesome stinging fly. So that the humour of calling the little page an eyas-musket is very intelligible. Warburton. So, in Greene's Card of Fancy, 1608: “&lblank; no hawk so haggard but will stoop to the lure: no niesse so ramage but will be reclaimed to the lunes.” Eyas-musket is the same as infant Lilliputian. Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. i. c. xi. st. 34: “&lblank; youthful gay, “Like eyas-hauke, up mounts unto the skies, “His newly budded pinions to essay.” In The Booke of Haukyng, &c. commonly called The Book of St. Albans, bl. l. no date, is the following derivation of the word; but whether true or erroneous is not for me to determine: “An hauk is called an eyesse from her eyen. For an hauke that is brought up under a bussarde or puttock, as many ben, have watry eyen,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 209 1&lblank; Jack-a-lent,] A Jack o' lent was a puppet thrown at in Lent, like shrove-cocks. So, in The Weakest goes to the Wall, 1600: “A mere anatomy, a Jack of Lent.” Again, in The Four Prentices of London, 1615: “Now you old Jack of Lent, six weeks and upwards.” Again, in Greene's Tu Quoque: “&lblank; for if a boy, that is throwing at his Jack o' Lent, chance to hit me on the shins,” &c. See a note on the last scene of this comedy. Steevens.

Note return to page 210 2&lblank; from jays.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; some jay of Italy, “Whose mother was her painting,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 211 3Have I caught my heavenly jewel?] This is the first line of the second song in Sidney's Astrophel and Stella. Tollet.

Note return to page 212 4&lblank; Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough:] This sentiment, which is of sacred origin, is here indecently introduced. It appears again, with somewhat less of profaneness, in The Winter's Tale, Act IV. and in Othello, Act II. Steevens. In answer to this charge of profaneness, it will be sufficient to say that in a note on the very passage in Othello alluded to, Mr. Malone has quoted precisely the same sentiment from Terence. Boswell.

Note return to page 213 5&lblank; arched bent &lblank;] Thus the quartos 1602, and 1619. The folio reads—arched beauty. Steevens. The reading of the quarto is supported by a passage in Antony and Cleopatra: “Eternity was in our lips and eyes, “Bliss in our brows-bent.” Malone.

Note return to page 214 6&lblank; that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire, of Venetian admittance.] Instead of—Venetian admittance, the old quarto reads—“or any Venetian attire.” Steevens. The old quarto reads—“tire vellet,” and the old folio reads— “or any tire of Venetian admittance.” So that the true reading of the whole is this, “that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance.” The speaker tells his mistress, she had a face that would become all the head dresses in fashion. The ship-tire was an open head dress, with a kind of scarf depending from behind. Its name of ship-tire was, I presume, from its giving the wearer some resemblance of a ship (as Shakspeare says) in all her trim: with all her pendants out, and flags and streamers flying. This was an image familiar with the poets of that time. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in their play of Wit without Money: “She spreads sattens as the king's ships do canvas every where; she may space her misen,” &c. This will direct us to reform the following word of tire-valiant, which I suspect to be corrupt, valiant being a very incongruous epithet for a woman's head dress: I suppose Shakspeare wrote tire-vailant. As the ship-tire was an open head dress, so the tire-vailant was a close one, in which the head and breast were covered as with a veil. And these were, in fact, the two different head dresses then in fashion, as we may see by the pictures of that time. One of which was so open, that the whole neck, breasts, and shoulders, were opened to view: the other, so securely inclosed in kerchiefs, &c. that nothing could be seen above the eyes, or below the chin. Warburton. In the fifth act, Fenton mentions that his mistress is to meet him— “With ribbons pendant flaring 'bout her head.” This, probably, was what is here called the ship-tire. Malone. “&lblank; the tire-valiant.” I would read—tire volant. Stubbes, who describes most minutely every article of female dress, has mentioned none of these terms, but speaks of vails depending from the top of the head, and flying behind in loose folds. The word volant was in use before the age of Shakspeare. I find it in Wilfride Holme's Fall and evil Successe of Rebellion, 1537: “&lblank; high volant in any thing divine.” Tire vellet, which is the reading of the old quarto, may be printed, as Mr. Tollet observes, by mistake, for tire-velvet. We know that velvet-hoods were worn in the age of Shakspeare. Steevens. Among the presents sent by the Queen of Spain to the Queen of England, in April 1606, was a velvet cap with gold buttons. Catharine's cap, in The Taming of the Shrew, is likewise of velvet. Tire-volant, however, I believe with Mr. Steevens, was the poet's word. “Their heads (says Nashe in 1594) with their top and top-gallant lawne baby caps, and snow-resembled silver curlings, they make a plain puppet-stage of. Their breasts they embuske up on hie, and their round roseate buds they immodestly lay forth, to shew, at their hands there is fruit to be hoped.” Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, 4to, 1594. Malone. “&lblank; of Venetian admittance.” i.e. of a fashion received or admitted from Venice. So, in Westward Hoe, 1606, by Decker and Webster:—“now she's in that Italian head-tire you sent her.” Dr. Farmer proposes to read—“of Venetian remittance.” Steevens. In how much request the Venetian tyre formerly was held, appears from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 1624:—“let her have the Spanish gate [gait] the Venetian tire, Italian complements and endowments,” Malone. May not the tire-valiant be so called from the air of boldness and confidence which it might give the wearer? A certain court divine (who can hardly be called a courtly one) in a sermon preached before King James the First, thus speaks of the ladies' head dresses: “Oh what a wonder it is to see a ship under saile with her tacklings and her masts, and her tops and top gallants, with her upper decks and her nether decks, and so bedeckt with her streames, flags and ensigns, and I know not what; yea but a world of wonders it is to see a woman created in God's image, so miscreate oft times and deformed with her French, her Spanish and her foolish fashions, that he that made her, when he looks upon her, shall hardly know her, with her plumes, her fans, and a silken vizard, with a ruffe, like a saile; yea, a ruffe like a rainbow, with a feather in her cap, like a flag in her top, to tell (I thinke) which way the wind will blow.” The Merchant Royall, a sermon preached at Whitehall before the King's Majestie, at the nuptialls of Lord Hay and his Lady, Twelfth-day, 1607, 4to. 1615. Again, “&lblank; it is proverbially said, that far fetcht and deare bought is fittest for ladies; as now-a-daies what groweth at home is base and homely; and what every one eates is meate for dogs; and wee must have bread from one countrie, and drinke from another; and wee must have meate from Spaine, and sauce out of Italy; and if wee weare any thing, it must be pure Venetian, Roman, or barbarian; but the fashion of all must be French.” Ibid. Reed.

Note return to page 215 7&lblank; a traitor &lblank;] i. e. to thy own merit. Steevens. The folio omits “By the Lord,” and reads—Thou art a tyrant, &c. but the reading of the quarto appears to me far better. Malone.

Note return to page 216 8&lblank; fortune thy foe &lblank;] “Was the beginning of an old ballad, in which were enumerated all the misfortunes that fall upon mankind, through the caprice of fortune.” See note on The Custom of the Country, Act I. Sc. I. by Mr. Theobald; who observes, that this ballad is mentioned again in a comedy by John Tatham, printed in 1660, called The Rump, or Mirror of the Times, wherein a Frenchman is introduced at the bonfire made for the burning of the rumps, and, catching hold of Priscilla, will oblige her to dance, and orders the musick to play Fortune my Foe. See also, Lingua, vol. v. Dodsley's Collection, p. 188; and Tom Essence, 1677, p. 37. Mr. Ritson observes, that “the tune is the identical air now known by the song of Death and the Lady, to which the metrical lamentations of extraordinary criminals have been usually chanted for upwards of these two hundred years.” Reed. The first stanza of this popular ballad was as follows: “Fortune, my foe, why dost thou frown on me? “And will my fortune never better be? “Wilt thou, I say, for ever breed my pain, “And wilt thou not restore my joys again?” Malone. This ballad is also mentioned by Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 576; “What shall we do in such a case?” sing “Fortune, my foe?” Steevens.

Note return to page 217 9&lblank; nature is thy friend:] Is, which is not in the old copy, was introduced by Mr. Pope. Malone. I would retain the old reading, with its original punctuation; and explain it thus,—If fortune being thy foe; nature were not thy friend. Boswell.

Note return to page 218 1&lblank; like Buckler's-bury, &c.] Buckler's-bury, in the time of Shakspeare, was chiefly inhabited by druggists, who sold all kinds of herbs, green as well as dry. Steevens.

Note return to page 219 2&lblank; I cannot cog, and say, thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping haw-thorn buds,—I cannot: but I love thee;] So, in Wily Beguil'd, 1606: “I cannot play the dissembler, “And woo my love with courting ambages, “Like one whose love hangs, on his smooth tongue's end; “But in a word I tell the sum of my desires, “I love faire Lelia.” Malone.

Note return to page 220 3&lblank; as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln.] Our poet has a similar image in Coriolanus: “&lblank; whose breath I hate, “As reek o' the rotten fens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 221 4&lblank; behind the arras.] The spaces left between the walls and the wooden frames on which arras was hung, were not more commodious to our ancestors than to the authors of their ancient dramatic pieces. Borachio in Much Ado About Nothing, and Polonius in Hamlet, also avail themselves of this convenient recess. Steevens.

Note return to page 222 5Speak louder.] i. e. that Falstaff, who is retired, may hear. This passage is only found in the two elder quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 223 6&lblank; whiting-time,] Bleaching time; spring. The season when “maidens bleach their summer smocks.” Holt White.

Note return to page 224 7&lblank; and none but thee;] These words, which are characteristick, and spoken to Mrs. Page aside, deserve to be restored from the old quarto. He had used the same words before to Mrs. Ford. Malone.

Note return to page 225 8&lblank; the cowl-staff?] Is a staff used for carrying a large tub or basket with two handles. In Essex the word cowl is yet used for a tub. Malone. This word occurs also in Philemon Holland's translation of the seventh Book of Pliny's Natural History, ch. 56: “The first battell that ever was fought, was between the Africans and Ægyptians; and the same performed by bastons, clubs and coulstaves, which they call Phalangæ.” Steevens.

Note return to page 226 9&lblank; how you drumble:] The reverend Mr. Lambe, the editor of the ancient metrical history of the Battle of Floddon, observes, that—look how you drumble, means—how confused you are; and that in the North, drumbled ale is muddy, disturbed ale. Thus, a Scottish proverb in Ray's collection: “It is good fishing in drumbling waters.” Again, in Have With You to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is Up, this word occurs: “&lblank; gray-beard drumbling over a discourse.” Again: “&lblank; your fly in a boxe is but a drumble-bee in comparison of it.” Again: “&lblank; this drumbling course.” Steevens. To drumble, in Devonshire, signifies to mutter in a sullen and inarticulate voice. No other sense of the word will either explain this interrogation, or the passages adduced in Mr. Steeven's note. To drumble and drone are often used in connexion. Henley. A drumble drone, in the western dialect, signifies a drone or humble-bee. Mrs. Page may therefore mean—How lazy and stupid you are! be more alert. Malone.

Note return to page 227 1&lblank; carry them to the laundress in Datchet mead;] Mr. Dennis objects, with some degree of reason, to the probability of the circumstance of Falstaff's being carried to Datchet mead, and thrown into the Thames. “It is not likely (he observes) that Falstaff would suffer himself to be carried in the basket as far as Datchet mead, which is half a mile from Windsor, and it is plain that they could not carry him if he made any resistance.” Malone.

Note return to page 228 1&lblank; it shall appear.] Ford seems to allude to the cuckold's horns. So afterwards: “&lblank; and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying, peer out, peer out.” Of the season is a phrase of the forest. So, in a letter written by Queene Catharine, in 1526, Howard's Collection, vol. i. p. 212: “We will and command you, that ye delyver or cause to be delyvered unto our trusty and well-beloved John Creusse—one buck of season.”—“The season of the hynd or doe (says Manwood) doth begin at Holyrood-day, and lasteth till Candelmas.” Forest Laws, 1598. Malone. Mr. Malone pointed the passage thus: “Ay, buck; I warrant you, buck, and of the season too; it shall appear.” I am satisfied with the old punctuation. In The Rape of Lucrece, our poet makes his heroine compare herself to an “unseasonable doe;” and, in Blunt's Customs of Manors, p. 168, is the same phrase employed by Ford: “A bukke delivered him of seyssone, by the woodmaster and keepers of Needwoode.” Steevens.

Note return to page 229 2&lblank; So, now uncape.] So the folio of 1623 reads, and rightly. It is a term in fox-hunting, which signifies to dig out the fox when earthed. And here is as much as to say, take out the foul linen under which the adulterer lies hid. The Oxford editor reads— uncouple, out of pure love to an emendation. Warburton. Dr. Warburton seems to have forgot that the linen was already carried away. The allusion in the foregoing sentence is to the stopping every hole at which a fox could enter, before they uncape or turn him out of the bag in which he was brought. I suppose every one has heard of a bag-fox. Steevens. Warburton, in his note on this passage, not only forgets that the foul linen had been carried away, but he also forgets that Ford did not know at that time that Falstaff had been hid under it; and Steevens forgets that they had not Falstaff in their possession, as hunters have a bag-fox, but were to find out where he was hid. They were not to chase him, but to rouze him. I therefore believe that Hanmer's amendment is right, and that we ought to read— uncouple.—Ford, like a good sportsman, first stops the earths, and then uncouples the hounds. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason also seems to forget that Ford at least thought he had Falstaff secure in his house, as in a bag, and therefore speaks of him in terms applicable to a bag-fox. Steevens.

Note return to page 230 3&lblank; who was in the basket!] We should read—“what was in the basket!” for though in fact Ford has asked no such question, he could never suspect there was either man or woman in it. The propriety of this emendation is manifest from a subsequent passage, where Falstaff tells Master Brook—“the jealous knave asked them once or twice what they had in their basket.” Ritson.

Note return to page 231 4&lblank; that foolish carrion,] The old copy has—foolishion carrion. The correction was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 232 5Ay, ay, peace:] These words were recovered from the early quarto by Mr. Theobald. But in his and the other modern editions, I, the old spelling of the affirmative particle, has inadvertently been retained. Malone.

Note return to page 233 6In your teeth:] This dirty restoration was made by Mr. Theobald. Evans's application of the doctor's words is not in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 234 7&lblank; father's wealth &lblank;] Some light may be given to those who shall endeavour to calculate the increase of English wealth, by observing, that Latymer, in the time of Edward VI. mentions it as a proof of his father's prosperity, “That though but a yeoman, he gave his daughters five pounds each for her portion.” At the latter end of Elizabeth, seven hundred pounds were such a temptation to courtship, as made all other motives suspected. Congreve makes twelve thousand pounds more than a counterbalance to the affectation of Belinda. No poet will now fly his favourite character at less than fifty thousand. Johnson.

Note return to page 235 8I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't;] To make a bolt or a shaft of a thing is enumerated by Ray, amongst others, in his collection of proverbial phrases. Ray's Proverbs, p. 179, edit. 1742. So, in a letter from James Howell, dated 19 Aug. 1623: “The prince is preparing for his journey. I shall to it again closely when he is gone, or make a shaft or bolt of it.” Howell's Letters, p. 146, edit. 1754. Reed. The shaft was such an arrow as skilful archers employed. The bolt in this proverb means, I think, the fool's bolt. Malone. A shaft was a general term for an arrow. A bolt was a thick short one, with a knob at the end of it. It was only employed to shoot birds with, and was commonly called a “bird-bolt.” The word occurs again in Much Ado About Nothing, Love's Labour's Lost, and Twelfth Night. Steevens.

Note return to page 236 9&lblank; come cut and long tail,] i. e. come poor, or rich, to offer himself as my rival. The following is said to be the origin of the phrase:—According to the forest laws, the dog of a man, who had no right to the privilege of chace, was obliged to cut, or law his dog among other modes of disabling him, by depriving him of his tail. A dog so cut was called a cut, or curt-tail, and by contraction cur. Cut and long-tail therefore signified the dog of a clown, and the dog of a gentleman. Again, in The First Part of the Eighth Liberal Science, entitled Ars Adulandi, &c. devised and compiled by Ulpian Fulwell, 1576: “&lblank; yea, even their very dogs, Rug, Rig, and Risbie, yea, cut and long-taile, they shall be welcome.” Steevens. “&lblank; come cut and long-tail.” I can see no meaning in this phrase. Slender promises to make his mistress a gentlewoman, and probably means to say, he will deck her in a gown of the court-cut, and with a long train or tail. In the comedy of Eastward Hoe, is this passage: “The one must be ladyfied forsooth, and be attired just to the court-cut and long tayle;” which seems to justify our reading—Court cut and long tail. Sir J. Hawkins. “&lblank; come cut and long tail.” This phrase is often found in old plays, and seldom, if ever, with any variation. The change therefore proposed by Sir John Hawkins cannot be received, without great violence to the text. Whenever the words occur, they always bear the same meaning, and that meaning is obvious enough without any explanation. The origin of the phrase may however admit of some dispute, and it is by no means certain that the account of it, here adopted by Mr. Steevens from Dr. Johnson, is well-founded. That there ever existed such a mode of disqualifying dogs by the laws of the forest, as is here asserted, cannot be acknowledged without evidence, and no authority is quoted to prove that such a custom at any time prevailed. The writers on this subject are totally silent, as far as they have come to my knowledge, Manwood, who wrote on the Forest Laws before they were entirely disused, mentions expeditation or cutting off three claws of the fore-foot, as the only manner of lawing dogs; and with his account, the Charter of the Forest seems to agree. Were I to offer a conjecture, I should suppose that the phrase originally referred to horses, which might be denominated cut and long tail, as they were curtailed of this part of their bodies, or allowed to enjoy its full growth; and this might be practised according to the difference of their value, or the uses to which they were put. In this view, cut and long tail would include the whole species of horses good and bad. In support of this opinion it may be added, that formerly a cut was a word of reproach in vulgar colloquial abuse, and I believe is never to be found applied to horses, except to those of the worst kind. After all, if any authority can be produced to countenance Dr. Johnson's explanation, I shall be ready to retract every thing that is here said. See also a note on The Match at Midnight, Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. vii. p. 424, edit. 1780. Reed. The last conversation I had the honour to enjoy with Sir William Blackstone, was on this subject; and by a series of accurate references to the whole collection of ancient Forest Laws, he convinced me of our repeated error, expeditation and genuscission, being the only established and technical modes ever used for disabling the canine species. Part of the tails of spaniels, indeed, are generally cut off (ornamenti gratia) while they are puppies, so that (admitting a loose description) every kind of dog is comprehended in the phrase of cut and long tail, and every rank of people in the same expression, if metaphorically used. Steevens.

Note return to page 237 1&lblank; happy man be his dole!] A proverbial expression. See Ray's Collection, p. 116, edit. 1737. Steevens.

Note return to page 238 2I must advance the colours of my love,] The same metaphor occurs in Romeo and Juliet: “And death's pale flag is not advanced there.” Steevens.

Note return to page 239 3&lblank; be set quick i' the earth, And bowl'd to death with turnips.] This is a common proverb in the southern counties. I find almost the same expression in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair; “Would I had been set in the ground, all but the head of me, and had my brains bowl'd at. Collins.

Note return to page 240 4Farewell, gentle mistress; farewell, Nan.] Mistress is here used as a trisyllable. Malone. If mistress can be pronounced as a trisyllable, the line will still be uncommonly defective in harmony. Perhaps a monosyllable has been omitted, and we should read— “Farewell, my gentle mistress; farewell, Nan.” Steevens.

Note return to page 241 5&lblank; fool, and a physician?] I should read—fool or a physician, meaning Slender and Caius. Johnson. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads according to Dr. Johnson's conjecture. This may be right.—Or my Dame Quickly may allude to the proverb, ‘a man of forty is either a fool or a physician;’ but she asserts her master to be both. Farmer. So, in Microcosmus, a masque by Nabbes, 1637: “Choler. Phlegm's a fool. “Melan. Or a physician.” Again, in A Maidenhead Well Lost, 1632: “No matter whether I be a fool or a physician.” Mr. Dennis, of irascible memory, who altered this play, and brought it on the stage, in the year 1702, under the title of The Comical Gallant, (when, thanks to the alterer, it was fairly damned,) has introduced the proverb at which Mrs. Quickly's allusion appears to be pointed. Steevens. I believe the old copy is right, and that Mrs. Quickly means to insinuate that she had addressed at the same time both Mr. and Mrs. Page on the subject of their daughter's marriage, one of whom favoured Slender, and the other Caius: “&lblank; on a fool or a physician,” would be more accurate, but and is sufficiently suitable to Dame Quickly, referendo singula singulis. Thus: “You two are going to throw away your daughter on a fool and a physician: you, sir, on the former, and you, madam, on the latter.” Malone.

Note return to page 242 6&lblank; once to-night &lblank;] i. e. some time to-night. So, in a letter from the sixth Earl of Northumberland (quoted in the notes on the household book of the fifth earl of that name): “&lblank; notwithstanding I trust to be able ons to set up a chapell off myne owne.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Silent Woman: “Well, I'll try if he will be appeased with a leg or an arm; if not, you must die once;” i. e. at some time or other. Steevens.

Note return to page 243 7&lblank; speciously &lblank;] She means to say specially. Steevens.

Note return to page 244 8&lblank; to slack it?] i. e. neglect. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; if then they chanced to slack you, we would control them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 245 9&lblank; a bitch's blind puppies,] The old copy reads—“a blind bitch's puppies.” Steevens. I have ventured to transpose the adjective here, against the authority of the printed copies. I know, in horses, a colt from a blind stallion loses much of the value it might otherwise have; but are puppies ever drowned the sooner, for coming from a blind bitch? The author certainly wrote, “as they would have drowned a bitch's blind puppies.” Theobald. The transposition may be justified from the following passage in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 246 1&lblank; how sped you, sir?] The word how I have restored from the old quarto. Malone.

Note return to page 247 *First folio, in.

Note return to page 248 2&lblank; and by her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.] As it does not appear that his being convey'd into the buck-basket was owing to the supposed distraction of Mistress Ford, I have no doubt but we should read—“and Ford's wife's direction,” which was the fact. M. Mason.

Note return to page 249 3By the Lord, a buck-basket:] Thus the old quarto. The editor of the first folio, to avoid the penalty of the statute of King James I. reads—Yes, &c. and the editor of the second, which has been followed by the moderns, has made Falstaff desert his own character, and assume the language of a Puritan. Malone. The second folio reads—yea; and I cannot discover why this affirmative should be considered as a mark of puritanism. Yea, at the time our comedy appeared, was in as frequent use as— yes; and it is certainly put by Shakspeare into the mouths of many of his characters whose manners are widely distant from those of canting purists. Steevens.

Note return to page 250 4&lblank; what they had in their basket:] So, before: “What a taking was he in, when your husband ask'd who was in the basket!” but Ford had asked no such question. Our author seems seldom to have revised his plays. Malone. Falstaff, in the present instance, may purposely exaggerate his alarms, that he may thereby enhance his merit with Ford, at whose purse his designs are ultimately levelled. Steevens.

Note return to page 251 5&lblank; several deaths:] Thus the folio and the most correct of the quartos. The first quarto reads—egregious deaths. Steevens.

Note return to page 252 6&lblank; detected with &lblank;] Thus the old copies. With was sometimes used for of. So, a little after: “I sooner will suspect the sun with cold.” Detected of a jealous, &c. would have been the common grammar of the times. The modern editors read—by. Steevens.

Note return to page 253 7&lblank; bilbo,] A bilbo is a Spanish blade, of which the excellence is flexibleness and elasticity. Johnson. Bilbo, from Bilboa, a city of Biscay, where the best blades are made. Steevens.

Note return to page 254 8&lblank; kidney,] Kidney in this phrase now signifies kind or qualities, but Falstaff means, a man whose kidnies are as fat as mine. Johnson.

Note return to page 255 9&lblank; address me &lblank;] i. e. make myself ready. So, in King Henry V.: “To-morrow for our march we are addrest.” Again, in Macbeth: “But they did say their prayers, and address'd them “Again to sleep.” Steevens.

Note return to page 256 1&lblank; I'll be horn mad.] There is no image which our author appears so fond of, as that of cuckold's horns. Scarcely a light character is introduced that does not endeavour to produce merriment by some allusion to horned husbands. As he wrote his plays for the stage rather than the press, he perhaps reviewed them seldom and did not observe this repetition; or finding the jest, however frequent, still successful, did not think correction necessary. Johnson.

Note return to page 257 2This is a very trifling scene, of no use to the plot, and I should think of no great delight to the audience; but Shakspeare best knew what would please. Johnson. We may suppose this scene to have been a very entertaining one to the audience for which it was written. Many of the old plays exhibit pedants instructing their scholars. Marston has a very long one in his What You Will, between a schoolmaster, and Holofernes, Nathaniel, &c. his pupils. The title of this play was perhaps borrowed by Shakspeare, to join to that of Twelfth Night. What You Will appeared in 1607. Twelfth Night was first printed in 1623. Steevens.

Note return to page 258 4&lblank; horum, harum, horum.] Taylor, the water-poet, has borrowed this jest, such as it is, in his character of a strumpet: “And comes to horum, harum, whorum, then “She proves a great proficient among men.” Steevens.

Note return to page 259 5&lblank; to hick and to hack,] Sir William Blackstone thought, that this, in Dame Quickly's language, signifies “to stammer or hesitate, as boys do in saying their lessons;” but Mr. Steevens, with more probability, supposes that it signifies, in her dialect, to do mischief. Malone.

Note return to page 260 6&lblank; your kies, your kæs, &c.] All this ribaldry is likewise found in Taylor, the water-poet. See fol. edit. p. 106. Steevens.

Note return to page 261 7&lblank; you must be preeches.] Sir Hugh means to say—you must be breeched, i. e. flogged. To breech is to flog. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “I am no breeching scholar in the schools.” Again, in The Humorous Lieutenant, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Cry like a breech'd boy, not eat a bit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 262 8&lblank; sprag &lblank;] I am told that this word is still used by the common people in the neighbourhood of Bath, where it signifies ready, alert, sprightly, and is pronounced as if it was written— sprack. Steevens. A spackt lad or wench, says Ray, is apt to learn, ingenious. Reed. This word is used by Tony Aston, the comedian, in his supplement to Colley Cibber's Life; “Mr. Dogget (he tells us,) was a little lively sprack man.” Malone.

Note return to page 263 9&lblank; your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance: I see, you are obsequious in your love.] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; for some term “To do obsequious sorrow.” The epithet obsequious refers, in both instances, to the seriousness with which obsequies, or funeral ceremonies, are performed. Steevens.

Note return to page 264 1&lblank; lunes &lblank;] i. e. lunacy, frenzy. See a note on The Winter's Tale, Act II. Sc. II. The folio reads—lines, instead of lunes. The elder quartos—his old vaine again. Steevens. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Malone.

Note return to page 265 2&lblank; he so takes on &lblank;] To take on, which is now used for to grieve, seems to be used by our author for to rage. Perhaps it was applied to any passion. Johnson. It is used by Nash in Pierce Penniless his Supplication to the Devil, 1592, in the same sense: “Some will take on like a madman, if they see a pig come to the table.” Malone.

Note return to page 266 3&lblank; Peer-out!] That is, appear horns. Shakspeare is at his old lunes. Johnson. Shakspeare here refers to the practice of children, when they call on a snail to push forth his horns: “Peer out, peer out, peer out of your hole, “Or else I'll beat you black as a coal.” Henley.

Note return to page 267 5&lblank; watch the door with pistols,] This is one of Shakspeare's anachronisms. Douce. Thus, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Thaliard says: “&lblank;if I “Can get him once within my pistol's length,” &c. and Thaliard was one of the courtiers of Antiochus the third, who reigned 200 years before Christ; a period rather too early for the use of pistols. Steevens.

Note return to page 268 5But what make you here?] i. e. what do you here? Malone. The same phrase occurs in the first scene of As You Like It: “Now, sir! what make you here!” Steevens. It occurs in Othello, Hamlet, Love's Labour's Lost, and many others of our author's plays. Boswell.

Note return to page 269 6&lblank; creep into the kiln-hole.] I suspect, these words belong to Mrs. Page. See Mrs. Ford's next speech. That, however, may be a second thought; a correction of her former proposal: but the other supposition is more probable. Malone.

Note return to page 270 7&lblank; an abstract &lblank;] i. e. a list, an inventory. Steevens. Rather, a short note or description. So, in Hamlet: “The abstract, and brief chronicle of the times.” Malone.

Note return to page 271 8Mrs. Page. If you go, &c.] In the first folio, by the mistake of the compositor, the name of Mrs. Ford is prefixed to this speech and the next. For the correction now made I am answerable. The editor of the second folio put the two speeches together, and gave them both to Mrs. Ford. The threat of danger from without ascertains the first to belong to Mrs. Page. See her speech on Falstaff's re-entrance. Malone.

Note return to page 272 9&lblank; her thrum'd hat, and her muffler too:] The thrum is the end of a weaver's warp, and, we may suppose, was used for the purpose of making coarse hats. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “O fates, come, come, “Cut thread and thrum.” A muffler was some part of dress that covered the face. So, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “Now is she bare fac'd to be seen:—strait on her muffler goes.” Again, in Laneham's account of Queen Elizabeth's entertainment at Kenelworth Castle, 1575: “&lblank; his mother lent him a nu mufflar for a napkin, that was tyed to hiz gyrdl for lozyng.” Steevens. The muffler was a part of female attire, which only covered the lower half of the face. Douce. See it fully explained in Mr. Douce's Observations on Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 75. Boswell. A thrum'd hat was made of very coarse woollen cloth. See Minsheu's Dict, 1617, in v. Thrum'd is, formed of thrums. Malone.

Note return to page 273 1&lblank; misuse him enough.] Him, which was accidentally omitted in the first folio, was inserted by the editor of the second. Malone.

Note return to page 274 2&lblank; Still swine, &c.] This is a proverbial sentence. See Ray's Collection. Malone.

Note return to page 275 3&lblank; of knight &lblank;] The only authentick copy, the first folio, reads—“full of knight.” The editor of the second—“of the knight;” I think, unnecessarily. We have just had—“hard at door.” Malone. At door, is a frequent provincial ellipsis. Full of knight is a phrase without example; and the present speaker (one of Ford's drudges) was not meant for a dealer in grotesque language. I therefore read with the second folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 276 4You, youth in a basket, come out here!] This reading I have adopted from the early quarto. The folio has only—“Youth in a basket!” Malone.

Note return to page 277 5&lblank; a ging.] Old copy—gin. Ging was the word intended by the poet, and was anciently used for gang. So, in Ben Jonson's New Inn, 1631: “The secret is, I would not willingly “See or be seen to any of this ging, “Especially the lady.” Again, in The Alchemist, 1610: “&lblank; Sure he has got “Some baudy picture to call all this ging; “The friar and the boy, or the new motion,” &c. Malone. The second folio [1632] (so severely censured by Mr. Malone, and yet so often quoted by him as the source of emendations,) reads—ging. Milton, in his Smectymnuus, employs the same word: “&lblank; I am met with a whole ging of words and phrases not mine.” See edit. 1753, vol. i. p. 119. Steevens.

Note return to page 278 6&lblank; this passes!] The force of the phrase I did not understand, when a former impression of Shakspeare was prepared; and therefore gave these two words as part of an imperfect sentence. One of the obsolete senses of the word, to pass, is to go beyond bounds. So, in Sir Clyomon, &c. Knight of the Golden Shield, 1599: “I have such a deal of substance here when Brian's men are slaine, “That it passeth. O that I had while to stay!” Again, in the translation of the Menæchmi, 1595: “This passeth! that I meet with none, but thus they vexe me with strange speeches.” Steevens. See p. 32. Malone.

Note return to page 279 7&lblank; this wrongs you.] This is below your character, unworthy of your understanding, injurious to your honour. So, in The Taming of the Shrew, Bianca, being ill treated by her rugged sister, says: “You wrong me much, indeed you wrong yourself.” Johnson.

Note return to page 280 8&lblank; his wife's leman.] Leman, i. e. lover, is derived from leef, Dutch, beloved, and man. Steevens.

Note return to page 281 9She works by charms, &c.] Concerning some old woman of Brentford, there are several ballads; among the rest, Julian of Brentford's Last Will and Testament, 1599. Steevens. This without doubt was the person here alluded to; for in the early quarto Mrs. Ford says—“my maid's aunt, Gillian of Brentford, hath a gown above.” So also, in Westward Hoe, a comedy, 1607: “I doubt that old hag, Gillian of Brentford, has bewitched me.” Malone. Mr. Steevens, perhaps, has been misled by the vague expression of the Stationers' book. Jyl of Breyntford's Testament, to which he seems to allude, was written by Robert, and printed by William Copland, long before 1599. But this, the only publication, it is believed, concerning the above lady, at present known, is certainly no ballad. Ritson. Julian of Brainford's Testament is mentioned by Laneham in his letter from Killingwoorth Castle, 1575, amongst many other works of established notoriety. Henley.

Note return to page 282 1&lblank; such daubery &lblank;] Dauberies are counterfeits; disguises. So, in King Lear, Edgar says: “I cannot daub it further.” Steevens. Perhaps rather—such gross falshood, and imposition. In our author's time a dauber and a plasterer were synonymous. See Minshieu's Dict, in v. “To lay it on with a trowel” was a phrase of that time, applied to one who uttered a gross lie. It may however mean, superficial external appearances. So, in King Richard III.: “So smooth he daub'd his vice with shew of virtue.” Malone.

Note return to page 283 2&lblank; let him not strike the old woman.] Not, which was inadvertently omitted in the first folio, was supplied by the second. Malone.

Note return to page 284 3&lblank; you rag,] This opprobrious term is again used in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; thy father, that poor rag &lblank;.” Mr. Rowe unnecessarily dismissed this word, and introduced hag in its place. Malone.

Note return to page 285 4&lblank; ronyon!] Ronyon, applied to a woman, means, as far as can be traced, much the same with scall or scab spoken of a man. Johnson. From Rogneux, Fr. So, in Macbeth: “Aroint thee, witch, the rump-fed ronyon cries.” Again, in As You Like It: “&lblank; the roynish clown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 286 5&lblank; I spy a great peard under her muffler.] One of the marks of a supposed witch was a beard. So, in The Duke's Mistress, 1638: “&lblank; a chin, without all controversy, good “To go a fishing with: a witches beard on't.” See also Macbeth, Act I. Sc. III. The muffler (as I have learned since our last sheet was worked off) was a thin piece of linen that covered the lips and chin. See the figures of two market-women, at the bottom of G. Hoefnagle's curious plate of Nonsuch, in Braunii Civitates Orbis Terrarum; Part V. Plate I. See likewise the bottom of the view of Shrewsbury, &c. ibid. Part VI. Plate II. where the female peasant seems to wear the same article of dress. See also a country-woman at the corner of Speed's map of England. Steevens. As the second stratagem, by which Falstaff escapes, is much the grosser of the two, I wish it had been practised first. It is very unlikely that Ford, having been so deceived before, and knowing that he had been deceived, would suffer him to escape in so slight a disguise. Johnson.

Note return to page 287 6&lblank; cry out thus upon no trail,] The expression is taken from the hunters. Trail is the scent left by the passage of the game. To cry out, is to open or bark. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “How cheerfully on the false trail they cry: “Oh! this is counter, ye false Danish dogs!” Steevens.

Note return to page 288 7&lblank; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and recovery,] Our author had been long enough in an attorney's office, to learn that fee-simple is the largest estate, and fine and recovery the strongest assurance, known to English law. Ritson.

Note return to page 289 8&lblank; in the way of waste, attempt us again.] i. e. he will not make further attempts to ruin us, by corrupting our virtue, and destroying our reputation. Steevens.

Note return to page 290 9&lblank; no period &lblank;] Shakspeare seems, by no period, to mean, no proper catastrophe. Of this Hanmer was so well persuaded, that he thinks it necessary to read—no right period. Steevens. Our author often uses period, for end or conclusion. So, King Richard III.: “O, let me make the period to my curse.” Malone.

Note return to page 291 *First folio, Germane desires.

Note return to page 292 1&lblank; I'll call them to you.] Old copy—I'll call him. Corrected in the third folio. Malone.

Note return to page 293 2&lblank; they must come off;] To come off, is, to pay. In this sense it is used by Massinger, in The Unnatural Combat, Act IV. Sc. II. where a wench, demanding money of the father to keep his bastard, says: “Will you come off, sir?” Again, in Decker's If This Be Not A Good Play, The Devil Is In It, 1612: “Do not your gallants come off roundly then?” Again, in Heywood's If You Know Not Me You Know Nobody, 1633, p. 2: “&lblank; and then if he will not come off, carry him to the compter.” Again, in A Trick to Catch The Old One, 1608: “Hark in thine ear:—will he come off, think'st thou, and pay my debts?” Again, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “It is his meaning I should come off.” Again, in The Widow, by Ben Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton, 1652: “I am forty dollars better for that: an 'twould come off quicker, 'twere nere a whit the worse for me.” Again, in A Merye Jest of a Man called Howleglas, bl. l. no date: “Therefore come of lightly, and geve me my mony.” Steevens. “They must come off, (says mine host,) I'll sauce them.” This passage has exercised the criticks. It is altered by Dr. Warburton; but there is no corruption, and Mr. Steevens has rightly interpreted it. The quotation, however, from Massinger, which is referred to likewise by Mr. Edwards in his Canons of Criticism, scarcely satisfied Mr. Heath, and still less Mr. Capell, who gives us, “They must not come off.” It is strange that any one, conversant in old language, should hesitate at this phrase. Take another quotation or two, that the difficulty may be effectually removed for the future. In John Heywood's play of The Four P's, the pedlar says: “&lblank; If you be willing to buy, “Lay down money, come off quickly.” In The Widow, by Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton: “&lblank; if he will come off roundly, he'll set him free too.” And again, in Fennor's Comptor's Commonwealth: “&lblank; except I would come off roundly, I should be bar'd of that priviledge,” &c. Farmer. The phrase is used by Chaucer, Friar's Tale, 338, edit. Urry: “Come off and let me riden hastily, “Give me twelve pence; I may no longer tarie.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 294 3I rather will suspect the sun with cold,] Thus the modern editions. The old ones read—with gold, which may mean, ‘I rather will suspect the sun can be a thief, or be corrupted by a bribe, than thy honour can be betrayed to wantonness.’ Mr. Rowe silently made the change, which succeeding editors have as silently adopted. A thought of a similar kind occurs in Henry IV. Part I.: “Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher?” I have not, however, displaced Mr. Rowe's emendation; as a zeal to preserve old readings, without distinction, may sometimes prove as injurious to our author's reputation, as a desire to introduce new ones, without attention to the quaintness of phraseology then in use. Steevens. So, in Westward for Smelts, a pamphlet which Shakspeare certainly had read: “I answere in the behalfe of one, who is as free from disloyaltie, as is the sunne from darkness, or the fire from cold.” A husband is speaking of his wife. Malone. It was not silently adopted, but pointed out as Rowe's emendation by Mr. Malone, 1790. Boswell.

Note return to page 295 4&lblank; and takes the cattle;] To take, in Shakspeare, signifies to seize or strike with a disease, to blast. So, in Lear: “&lblank; Strike her young bones, “Ye taking airs, with lameness.” Johnson. So, in Markham's Treatise of Horses, 1595, chap. 8: “Of a horse that is taken. A horse that is bereft of his feeling, mooving or styrring, is said to be taken, and in sooth so he is, in that he is arrested by so villainous a disease; yet some farriors, not well understanding the ground of the disease, conster the word taken, to be stricken by some planet or evil-spirit, which is false,” &c. Thus our poet: “&lblank; No planets strike, no fairy takes.” Tollet.

Note return to page 296 5&lblank; idle-headed eld &lblank;] Eld seems to be used here for what our poet calls in Macbeth—the olden time. It is employed in Measure for Measure, to express age and decrepitude: “&lblank; doth beg the alms “Of palsied eld.” Steevens. I rather imagine it is used here for old persons. Malone.

Note return to page 297 6Disguised like Herne, with huge horns on his head.] This line, which is not in the folio, was properly restored from the old quarto by Mr. Theobald. He at the same time introduced another: “We'll send him word to meet us in the field;” which is clearly unnecessary , and indeed improper: for the word field relates to two preceding lines of the quarto, which have not been introduced: “Now, for that Falstaff has been so deceiv'd, “As that he dares not meet us in the house, “We'll send him word to meet us in the field.” Malone.

Note return to page 298 7&lblank; urchins, ouphes,] The primitive signification of urchin is a hedge-hog. In this sense it is used in The Tempest. Hence it comes to signify any thing little and dwarfish. Ouph is the Teutonick word for a fairy or goblin. Steevens.

Note return to page 299 8With some diffused song;] A diffused song signifies a song that strikes out into wild sentiments beyond the bounds of nature, such as those whose subject is fairy land. Warburton. Diffused may mean confused. So, in Stowe's Chronicle, p. 553: “Rice quoth he, (i. e. Cardinal Wolsey,) speak you Welch to him: I doubt not but thy speech shall be more diffuse to him, than his French shall be to thee.” Tollet. By diffused song, Shakspeare may mean such unconnected ditties as mad people sing. Kent, in K. Lear, when he has determined to assume an appearance foreign to his own, declares his resolution to diffuse his speech, i. e. to give it a wild and irregular turn. Steevens. “With some diffused song;” i. e. wild, irregular, discordant. That this was the meaning of the word, I have shown in a note on King Lear by a passage from one of Greene's pamphlets, in which he calls a dress of which the different parts were made after the fashions of different countries, “a diffused attire.” Malone. The phrase diffused attire, is found in our author's Henry V. Act V. Sc. II. Diffused, in the sense of scattered, occurs in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. xi. st. 47: “&lblank; That yron man “With his huge flail began to lay about; “From whose sterne presence they diffused ran.” Boswell.

Note return to page 300 9And, fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean knight:] This use of to in composition with verbs, is very common in Gower and Chaucer, but must have been rather antiquated in the time of Shakspeare. See, Gower, De Confessione Amantis, b. iv. fol . 7: “All to-tore is myn araie.” And Chaucer, Reeve's Tale, 1169: “&lblank; mouth and nose to-broke.” The construction will otherwise be very hard. Tyrwhitt. I add a few more instances, to show that this use of the preposition to was not entirely antiquated in the time of our author. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. 7: “With briers and bushes all to-rent and scratched.” Again, b. v. c. 8: “With locks all loose, and raiment all to-tore.” Again, b. v. c. 9: “Made of strange stuffe, but all to-worne and ragged, “And underneath the breech was all to-torne and jagged.” Again, in The Three Lords of London, 1590: “The post at which he runs, and all to-burns it.” Again, in Philemon Holland's Translation of the 10th Book of Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 74: “&lblank; shee againe to be quit with them, will all to-pinch and nip both the fox and her cubs.” Steevens. So, Milton in his Masque: “Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.” Boswell. The editor of Gawin Douglas's Translation of the Æneid, fol. Edinb. 1710, observes, in his General Rules for the Understanding the Language, that to prefixed, in ancient writers, has little or no significancy, but with all put before it, signifies altogether. Since, Milton has “were all to-ruffled,” see Comus, v. 380. Warton's edit. it is not likely that this practice was become antiquated in the time of Shakspeare, as Mr. Tyrwhitt supposes. Holt Whitt.

Note return to page 301 1&lblank; pinch him sound,] i. e. soundly. The adjective used as an adverb. The modern editors read—round. Steevens.

Note return to page 302 2I will teach the children their behaviours; and I will be like a jack-an-apes also,] The idea of this stratagem, &c. might have been adopted from part of the entertainment prepared by Thomas Churchyard for Queen Elizabeth at Norwich: “And these boyes, &c. were to play by a deuise and degrees the Phayries, and to daunce (as neere as could be ymagined) like the Phayries. Their attire, and comming so strangely out, I know made the Queenes highnesse smyle and laugh withall, &c. I ledde the yong foolishe Phayries a daunce, &c. and as I heard said, it was well taken.” Steevens.

Note return to page 303 3That silk will I go buy;—and in that time &lblank;] Mr. Theobald, referring that time to the time of buying the silk, alters it to tire. But there is no need of any change; that time evidently relating to the time of the mask with which Falstaff was to be entertained, and which makes the whole subject of this dialogue. Therefore the common reading is right. Warburton.

Note return to page 304 4&lblank; properties,] Properties are little incidental necessaries to a theatre, exclusive of scenes and dresses. So, in The Taming of a Shrew: “&lblank; a shoulder of mutton for a property.” See A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 305 5&lblank; tricking for our fairies.] To trick, is to dress out. So, in Milton: “Not trick'd and frounc'd as she was wont, “With the Attic boy to hunt; “But kerchief'd in a homely cloud.” Steevens.

Note return to page 306 6&lblank; what, thick-skin?] I meet with this term of abuse in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, book vi. chap. 30: “That he, so foul a thick-skin, should so fair a lady catch.” The eleventh book, however, of Pliny's Nat. Hist. (I shall quote from P. Holland's Translation, 1601, p. 346,) will best explain the meaning of this term of obloquy: “&lblank; men also, who are thicke skinned, be more grosse of sence and understanding,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 307 7&lblank; standing-bed, and truckle-bed;] The usual furniture of chambers in that time was a standing-bed, under which was a trochle, truckle, or running bed. In the standing-bed lay the master, and in the truckle bed the servant. So, in Hall's Account of a Servile Tutor: “He lieth in the truckle-bed, “While his young master lieth o'er his head.” Johnson. So, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “When I lay in a trundle-bed under my tutor.” And here the tutor has the upper bed. Again, in Heywood's Royal King, &c. 1637: “&lblank; shew these gentlemen into a close room with standing-bed in't, and a truckle too.” Steevens.

Note return to page 308 8&lblank; Anthropophaginian &lblank;] i. e. a cannibal. See Othello, Act I, Sc. III. It is here used as a sounding word to astonish Simple. Ephesian, which follows, has no other meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 309 9&lblank; thine Ephesian.] This was a cant term of the time. So, in K. Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. II.: “P. Henry. What company? Page. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.” See the note there. Malone. Hanmer supposes Ephesian to be a designed blunder for Ephæstion. Steevens.

Note return to page 310 1&lblank; Bohemian-Tartar &lblank;] The French call a Bohemian what we call a Gypsey; but I believe the Host means nothing more than, by a wild appelation, to insinuate that Simple makes a strange appearance. Johnson. In Germany there were several companies of vagabonds, &c. called Tartars and Zigens. “These were the same in my opinion,” says Mezeray, “as those the French call Bohemians, and the English Gypsies.” Bulteel's Translation of Mezeray's History of France, under the year 1417. Tollet.

Note return to page 311 2&lblank; wise woman of Brentford?] In our author's time female dealers in palmistry and fortune-telling were usually denominated wise women. So the person from whom Heywood's play of The Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638, takes its title, is employed in answering many such questions as are the objects of Simple's enquiry. Reed. This appellation occurs also in our version of the Bible: “Her wise ladies answered her, yea, she returned answer to herself.” Judges, v. 29. Steevens.

Note return to page 312 3&lblank; muscle-shell;] He calls poor Simple muscle-shell, because he stands with his mouth open. Johnson.

Note return to page 313 4Simp. I may not conceal them, sir. Host. Conceal them, or thou diest.] In both these instances Dr. Farmer thinks we should read—reveal. Steevens. “Simp. I may, &c.” In the old copy this speech is given to Falstaff. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. I mention this error, because it justifies other similar corrections that have been made. See p. 14, and p. 150. Mr. Boaden suggests that the next speech may belong to Falstaff, instead of the Host. Malone.

Note return to page 314 5Ay, sir Tike; who more bold?] In the first edition, it stands: “I Tike, who more bolde.” And should plainly be read here, “Ay, sir Tike,” &c. Farmer. The folio reads—Ay, sir, like, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 315 6&lblank; clerkly,] i. e. scholar-like. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii.: “Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knew “For clearkly reed,” &c. Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; 'tis very clerkly done.” Steevens.

Note return to page 316 7&lblank; I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning.] He alludes to the beating which he had just received. The same play on words occurs in Cymbeline, Act V.: “&lblank; sorry you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much.” Steevens. To pay, in our author's time, often signified to beat. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; seven of the eleven I paid.” Malone.

Note return to page 317 8&lblank; like three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses.] John Faust, commonly called Doctor Faustus, was a German. Marlowe's play on this subject had sufficiently familiarized Bardolph's simile to our author's audience. Steevens.

Note return to page 318 9&lblank; crest-fallen as a dried pear.] To ascertain the propriety of this similitude, it may be observed that pears, when they are dried, become flat, and lose the erect and oblong form that, in their natural state, distinguishes them from apples. Steevens.

Note return to page 319 1&lblank; primero.] A game at cards. Johnson. Primero was in Shakspeare's time the fashionable game. In the Earl of Northumberland's letters about the powder plot, Josc. Percy was playing at primero on Sunday, when his uncle, the conspirator, called on him at Essex House. This game is again mentioned in our author's Henry VIII. Percy. “Primero and primavista, two games of cards. Primum et primum visum, that is, first, and first scene, because he that can show such an order of cardes, wins the game.” See Minsheu's Dict. 1617. Reed. In the Sydney Papers, vol. ii. p. 83, is the following account of an altercation that happened between our poet's generous patron, and one Willoughby, at this game:—“The quarrel of my Lord Southampton to Ambrose Willoughby Grew upon this: That he, with Sir Walter Rawley and Mr. Parker, being at primero in the presence-chamber, the queen was gone to bed; and he being there, as squire of the body, desired him to give over. Soon after he spoke to them againe, that if they would not leave, he would call in the guard to pull down the bord; which Sir Walter Rawley seeing, put up his money, and went his wayes; but my Lord Southampton took exceptions at hym, and told hym, he would remember yt: and so finding hym between the Tennis-Court wall and the garden, strooke him; and Willoughly pull'd of some of his lockes.” This happened in the beginning of 1598. Malone. The manner of playing at this game may be seen in an Epigram quoted in Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. v. p. 168, edit. 1780. See also vol. x. p. 368, and vol. xii. p. 396. Reed.

Note return to page 320 2&lblank; to say my prayers,] These words were restored from the early quarto by Mr. Pope. They were probably omitted in the folio on account of the stat. 3 Jac. I. ch. 21. Malone.

Note return to page 321 3&lblank; action of an old woman,] What! was it any dexterity of wit in Sir John Falstaff to counterfeit the action of an old woman in order to escape being apprehended for a witch? Surely, one would imagine, this was the readiest means to bring him into such a scrape: for none but old women have ever been suspected of being witches. The text must certainly be restored “a wood woman,” a crazy, frantick woman; one too wild, and silly, and unmeaning, to have either the malice or mischievous subtlety of a witch in her. Theobald. This emendation is received by Sir Thomas Hanmer, but rejected by Dr. Warburton. To me it appears reasonable enough. Johnson. I am not certain that this change is necessary. Falstaff, by counterfeiting such weakness and infirmity, as would naturally be pitied in an old woman, averted the punishment to which he would otherwise have been subjected, on the supposition that he was a witch. Steevens. The reading of the old copy is fully supported by what Falstaff says afterwards to Ford: “I went to her, master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man; but I came from her, master Brook, like a poor old woman.” Malone.

Note return to page 322 4Sure, one of you does not serve heaven well, &c.] The great fault of this play is the frequency of expressions so profane, that no necessity of preserving character can justify them. There are laws of higher authority than those of criticism. Johnson.

Note return to page 323 5The mirth whereof &lblank;] Thus the old copy. Mr. Pope and all the subsequent editors read—The mirth whereof's so larded, &c. but the old reading is the true one, and the phraseology that of Shakspeare's age. Whereof was formerly used as we now use thereof; “&lblank; the mirth thereof being so larded,” &c. So, in Mount Tabor, or Private Exercises of a Penitent Sinner, 8vo. 1639: “In the mean time [they] closely conveyed under the cloaths wherewithal he was covered, a vizard, like a swine's snout, upon his face, with three wire chains fastened thereunto, the other end whereof being holden severally by those three ladies; who fall to singing again,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 324 6&lblank; wherein fat Falstaff Hath a great scene:] The first folio reads: “Without the shew of both: fat Falstaff,” &c. I have supplied the word that was probably omitted at the press, from the early quarto, where, in the corresponding place, we find— “Wherein fat Falstaff hath a mighty scare [scene].” The editor of the second folio, to supply the metre, arbitrarily reads— “Without the shew of both;—fat Sir John Falstaff &lblank;.” Malone. Scare in the quarto was probably meant for share, and not scene. Boswell.

Note return to page 325 7&lblank; the image of the jest &lblank;] Image is representation. So, in King Kichard III.: “And liv'd by looking on his images.” Again, in Measure for Measure:—“The image of it gives me content already.” Steevens. These words allude to a custom still in use, of hanging out painted representations of shows. So, in Bussy d'Ambois: “&lblank; like a monster “Kept onely to show men for goddesse money: “That false hagge often paints him in her cloth “Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth.” Henley.

Note return to page 326 8&lblank; is here;] i. e. in the letter. Steevens.

Note return to page 327 9While other jests are something rank on foot,] i. e. while they are hotly pursuing other merriment of their own. Steevens.

Note return to page 328 1&lblank; even strong against that match,] Thus the old copies. The modern editors read—ever, but perhaps without necessity. Even strong, is as strong, with a familiar degree of strength. So, in Hamlet, “&lblank; even christian” is fellow christian. Steevens.

Note return to page 329 2&lblank; tasking of their minds,] So, in K. Henry V.: “&lblank; some things of weight “That task our thoughts concerning us and France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 330 3&lblank; to denote &lblank;] In the MSS. of our author's age n and u were formed so very much alike that they are scarcely distinguishable. Hence it was, that in the old copies of these plays one of these letters is frequently put for the other. From the cause assigned, or from an accidental inversion of the letter n at the press, the first folio in the present instance reads—deuote, u being constantly employed in that copy instead of v. The same mistake has happened in several other places. Thus, in Much Ado About Nothing, 1623, we find, “he is turu'd orthographer,” instead of turn'd. Again, in Othello:—“to the contemplation, mark, and deuotement of her parts,” instead of denotement. Again, in King John: This expeditious charge, instead of expedition's. Again, ibid.: involuerable for invulnerable. Again, in Hamlet, 1605, we meet with this very word put by an error of the press for denote: “Together with all forms, modes, shapes of grief, “That can deuote me truly.” The present emendation, which was suggested by Mr. Steevens, is fully supported by a subsequent passage, quoted by him: “&lblank; the white will decipher her well enough.” Malone.

Note return to page 331 4&lblank; quaint in green,] May mean fantastically drest in green. So, in Milton's Masque at Ludlow Castle: “&lblank; lest the place, “And my quaint habits, breed astonishment.” Quaintness, however, was anciently used to signify gracefulness. So, in Greene's Dialogue between a He and She Coney-Catcher, 1592: “I began to think what a handsome man he was, and wished that he would come and take a night's lodging with me, sitting in a dump to think of the quaintness of his personage.” In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act III. Sc. I. quaintly is used for ingeniously: “&lblank; a ladder quaintly made of cords.” Steevens. In Daniel's Sonnets, 1594, it is used for fantastick: “Prayers prevail not with a quaint disdayne.” Malone.

Note return to page 332 5&lblank; I'll hold:] I suppose he means—I'll keep the appointment. Or he may mean—I'll believe. So, in K. Henry VIII.: “Did you not of late days hear,” &c.—“Yes, but held it not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 6&lblank; they say, there is divinity in odd numbers,] Alluding to the Roman adage— “&lblank; numero deus impare gaudet.” Virgil, Ecl. viii. Steevens.

Note return to page 334 7&lblank; hold up your head, and mince.] To mince is ‘to walk with affected delicacy.’ So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; turn two mincing steps “Into a manly stride.” Steevens. So, in Stubbes's Anatomy of Abuses, Part II. sig. E 8: “And not onlie upon these things do they spend their goods, (or rather the goods of the poore,) but also in pride; their summum gaudium, and upon their dansing minions, that minse it full gingerlie God wot, tripping like gotes, that en egge wold not brek under their feet.” Malone.

Note return to page 335 8&lblank; because I know also, life is a shuttle.] An allusion to the sixth verse of the seventh chapter of the Book of Job: “My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 336 9&lblank; Since I plucked geese,] To strip a living goose of his feathers, was formerly an act of puerile barbarity. Steevens.

Note return to page 337 1&lblank; my daughter.] The word daughter was inadvertently omitted in the first folio. The emendation was made by the editor of the second. Malone.

Note return to page 338 2&lblank; a nay-word,] i. e. a watch-word. Mrs. Quickly has already used it in this sense. Steevens.

Note return to page 339 3&lblank; mum; she cries, budget;] These words appear to have been in common use before the time of our author: “And now if a man call them to accomptes, and aske the cause of al these their tragical and cruel doings, he shall have a short answer with mum budget, except they will peradventure allege this,” &c. Oration against the unlawful Insurrections of the Protestants, bl. l. 8vo. 1615, sign. C 8. Reed.

Note return to page 340 4&lblank; No man means evil but the devil,] This is a double blunder; for some, of whom this was spoke, were women. We should read then, No one means. Warburton. There is no blunder. In the ancient interludes and moralities, the beings of supreme power, excellence, or depravity, are occasionally styled men. So, in Much Ado About Nothing, Dogberry says: “God's a good man.” Again, in an Epitaph, part of which has been borrowed as an absurd one, by Mr. Pope and his associates, who were not very well acquainted with ancient phraseology: “Do all we can, “Death is a man   “That never spareth none.” Again, in Jeronimo, or The First Part of the Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “You're the last man I thought on, save the devil.” Steevens. Page indirectly alludes to Falstaff, who was to be disguised like Herne the hunter, with horns upon his head. Malone.

Note return to page 341 5&lblank; and the Welch devil, Hugh?] The former impressions read—the Welch Devil, Herne? But Falstaff was to represent Herne, and he was no Welchman. Where was the attention or sagacity of our editors, not to observe that Mrs. Ford is enquiring for [Sir Hugh] Evans by the name of the Welch devil? Dr. Thirlby likewise discovered the blunder of this passage. Theobald. I suppose only the letter H. was set down in the MS. and therefore, instead of Hugh, (which seems to be the true reading,) the editors substituted Herne. Steevens. So, afterwards: “Well said, fairy Hugh.” Malone.

Note return to page 342 6&lblank; in a pit hard by Herne's oak,] An oak, which may be that alluded to by Shakspeare, is still standing close to a pit in Windsor forest. It is yet shown as the oak of Herne. Steevens.

Note return to page 343 7&lblank; When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do?] Shakspeare had perhaps in his thoughts the argument which Cherea employed in a similar situation. Ter. Eun. Act III. Sc. V.: “&lblank; Quia consimilem luserat “Jam olim ille ludum, impendio magis animus gaudebat mihi “Deum sese in hominem convertisse, atque per alienas tegulas “Venisse clanculum per impluvium, fucum factum mulieri. “At quem deum? qui templa cœli summa sonitu concutit. “Ego homuncio hoc non facerem? Ego vero illud ita feci, ac lubens.” A translation of Terence was published in 1598. The same thought is found in Lyly's Euphues, 1580:—“I think in those days love was well ratified on earth, when lust was so full authorized by the gods in heaven.” Malone.

Note return to page 344 8&lblank; Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow?] This, I find, is technical. In Turberville's Booke of Hunting, 1575: “During the time of their rut, the harts live with small sustenance.—The red mushroome helpeth well to make them pysse their greace, they are then in so vehement heate,” &c. Farmer. In Ray's Collection of Proverbs, the phrase is yet further explained: “He has piss'd his tallow. This is spoken of bucks who grow lean after rutting-time, and may be applied to men.” The phrase, however, is of French extraction. Jacques de Fouilloux in his quarto volume entitled La Venerie, also tells us that stags in rutting time live chiefly on large red mushrooms, “qui aident fort à leur faire pisser le suif.” Steevens.

Note return to page 345 9Let the sky rain potatoes;—hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation,] Potatoes, when they were first introduced in England, were supposed to be strong provocatives. See Mr. Collin's note on a passage in Troilus and Cressida. Act V. Sc. II. Kissing-comfits were sugar-plums, perfumed to make the breath sweet. Monsieur Le Grand D'Aussi, in his Histoire de la Vie privée des Français, vol. ii. p. 273, observes—“Il y avait aussi de petits drageoirs qu'on portait en poche pour avoir, dans le jour, de quoi se parfumer la bouche.” So also in Webster's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: “&lblank; Sure your pistol holds “Nothing but perfumes or kissing comfits.” In Swetnan Arraign'd, 1620, these confections are called— “kissing-causes.”—“Their very breath is sophisticated with amber-pellets, and kissing-causes.” Again, in A Very Woman, by Massinger: “Comfits of ambergris to help our kisses.” For eating these, Queen Mab may be said, in Romeo and Juliet, to plague their lips with blisters. Eringoes, like potatoes, were esteemed to be stimulatives. So, (says the late Mr. Henderson,) in Drayton's Polyolbion: “Whose root th' eringo is, the reines that doth inflame, “So strongly to performe the Cytherean game.” But Shakspeare, very probably, had the following artificial tempest in his thoughts, when he put the words on which this note is founded into the mouth of Falstaff. Holinshed informs us, that in the year 1583, for the entertainment of Prince Alasco, was performed “a verie statelie tragedie named Dido, wherein the queen's banket (with Æneas' narration of the destruction of Troie) was lively described in a marchpaine patterne,—the tempest wherein it hailed small confects, rained rose-water, and snew an artificial kind of snow, all strange, marvellous and abundant.” Brantome also, describing an earlier feast given by the Vidam of Chartres, says—“Au dessert, il y eut un orage artificiel qui, pendant une demie heure entiere, fit tomber une pluie d'eaux odorantes, et un grêle de dragées.” Steevens.

Note return to page 346 1Divide me like a bribe-buck,] i. e. (as Mr. Theobald observes,) a buck sent for a bribe. He adds, that the old copies, mistakingly, read—brib'd-buck. Steevens. Cartwright, in his Love's Convert, has an expression somewhat similar: “Put off your mercer with your fee-buck for that season.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 347 2&lblank; my shoulders for the fellow of this walk,] Who the fellow is, or why he keeps his shoulders for him, I do not understand. Johnson. A walk is that district in a forest, to which the jurisdiction of a particular keeper extends. So, in Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592: “Tell me, forester, under whom maintainest thou thy walke?” Malone. To the keeper the shoulders and humbles belong as a perquisite. Grey. So, in Friar Bacon, and Friar Bungay, 1599: “Butter and cheese, and humbles of a deer, “Such as poor keepers have within their lodge.” Again, in Holinshed, 1586, vol. i. p. 204: “The keeper, by a custom—hath the skin, head, umbles, chine and shoulders.” Steevens.

Note return to page 348 3&lblank; a woodman?] A woodman (says Mr. Reed, in a note on Measure for Measure, Act IV. Sc. III.) was an attendant on the officer, called Forrester. See Manwood on the Forest Laws, 4to. 1615, p. 46. It is here, however, used in a wanton sense, for one who chooses female game as the objects of his pursuit. In its primitive sense I find it employed in an ancient MS. entitled The Boke of Huntyng, that is cleped Mayster of Game: “And wondre ye not though I sey wodemanly, for it is a poynt of a wodemannys crafte. And though it be wele fittyng to an hunter to kun do it, yet natheles it longeth more to a wodemannys crafte,” &c. A woodman's calling is not very accurately defined by any author I have met with. Steevens.

Note return to page 349 4This stage-direction I have formed on that of the old quarto, corrected by such circumstances as the poet introduced when he new-modelled his play. In the folio there is no direction whatsoever. Mrs. Quickly and Pistol seem to have been but ill suited to the delivery of the speeches here attributed to them; nor are either of those personages named by Ford in a former scene, where the intended plot against Falstaff is mentioned. It is highly probable, (as a modern editor has observed,) that the performer who had represented Pistol, was afterwards, from necessity, employed among the fairies; and that his name thus crept into the copies. He here represents Puck, a part which in the old quarto is given to Sir Hugh. The introduction of Mrs. Quickly, however, cannot be accounted for in the same manner; for in the first sketch in quarto, she is particularly described as the Queen of the Fairies; a part which our author afterwards allotted to Anne Page. Malone.

Note return to page 350 5You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny,] But why orphan-heirs? Destiny, whom they succeeded, was yet in being. Doubtless the poet wrote: “You ouphen heirs of fixed destiny.” i. e. you elves, who minister, and succeed in some of the works of destiny. They are called in this play, both before and afterwards, ouphes; here ouphen; en being the plural termination of Saxon nouns. For the word is from the Saxon Alpenne, lamiæ, dæmones. Or it may be understood to be an adjective, as wooden, woollen, golden, &c. Warburton. Dr. Warburton corrects orphan to ouphen; and not without plausibility, as the word ouphes occurs both before and afterwards. But, I fancy, in acquiescence to the vulgar doctrine, the address in this line is to a part of the troop, as mortals by birth, but adopted by the fairies: orphans in respect of their real parents and now only dependent on destiny herself. A few lines from Spenser will sufficiently illustrate this passage: “The man whom heavens have ordaynd to bee   “The spouse of Britomart is Arthegall. “He wonneth in the land of Fayeree,   “Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all “To elfes, but sprong of seed terrestriall,   “And whilome by false Faries stolen away, “Whiles yet in infant cradle he did crall,” &c. Edit. 1590. b. iii. st. 26. Farmer. Dr. Warburton objects to their being heirs to Destiny, who was still in being. But Shakspeare, I believe, uses heirs, with his usual laxity, for children. So, to inherit is used in the sense of to possess. Malone.

Note return to page 351 6&lblank; quality:] i. e. fellowship. See The Tempest: “Ariel, and all his quality.” Steevens.

Note return to page 352 7Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes. Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys.] These two lines were certainly intended to rhyme together, as the preceding and subsequent couplets do; and accordingly, in the old editions, the final words of each line are printed, oyes and toyes. This, therefore, is a striking instance of the inconvenience, which has arisen from modernizing the orthography of Shakspeare. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 353 8Where fires thou find'st unrak'd,] i. e. unmade up, by covering them with fuel, so that they may be found alight in the morning. This phrase is still current in several of our midland counties. So, in Chapman's version of the sixteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; still rake up all thy fire “In fair cool words:—” Steevens.

Note return to page 354 9&lblank; as bilberry:] The bilberry is the whortleberry. Fairies were always supposed to have a strong aversion to sluttery. Thus, in the old song of Robin Good-Fellow. See Dr. Percy's Reliques, &c. vol. iii.: “When house or hearth doth sluttish lye, “I pinch the maidens black and blue,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 355 1Evans. Where's Bede? &c.] Thus the first folio. The quartos—Pead.—It is remarkable that, throughout this metrical business, Sir Hugh appears to drop his Welch pronunciation, though he resumes it as soon as he speaks in his own character. As Falstaff, however, supposes him to be a Welch Fairy, his peculiarity of utterance must have been preserved on the stage, though it be not distinguished in the printed copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 356 2&lblank; Go you, and where you find a maid,&lblank; Raise up the organs of her fantasy;] The sense of this speech is—that she, who had performed her religious duties, should be secure against the illusion of fancy; and have her sleep, like that of infancy, undisturbed by disordered dreams. This was then the popular opinion, that evil spirits had a power over the fancy; and, by that means, could inspire wicked dreams into those who, on their going to sleep, had not recommended themselves to the protection of heaven. So Shakspeare makes Imogen, on her lying down, say: “From fairies, and the tempters of the night, “Guard me, beseech ye!” As this is the sense, let us see how the common reading expresses it: “Raise up the organs of her fantasy;” i. e. inflame her imagination with sensual ideas; which is just the contrary to what the poet would have the speaker say. We cannot therefore but conclude he wrote: “Rein up the organs of her fantasy;” i. e. curb them, that she be no more disturbed by irregular imaginations, than children in their sleep. For he adds immediately: “Sleep she as sound as careless infancy.” So, in The Tempest: “Do not give dalliance “Too much the rein.” And, in Measure for Measure: “I give my sensual race the rein.” To give the rein, being just the contrary to rein up. The same thought he has again in Macbeth: “&lblank; Merciful powers! “Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature “Gives way to in repose.” Warburton. This is highly plausible; and yet, “raise up the organs of her fantasy,” may mean, ‘elevate her ideas above sensuality, exalt them to the noblest contemplation.’ Mr. Malone supposes the sense of the passage, collectively taken, to be as follows. Steevens. Go you, and wherever you find a maid asleep, that hath thrice prayed to the Deity, though, in consequence of her innocence, she sleep as soundly as an infant, elevate her fancy, and amuse her tranquil mind with some delightful vision; but those whom you find asleep, without having previously thought on their sins, and prayed to heaven for forgiveness, pinch, &c. It should be remembered that those persons who sleep very soundly, seldom dream. Hence the injunction to “raise up the organs of her fantasy, Sleep she,” &c. i. e. though she sleep as sound, &c. The fantasies with which the mind of the virtuous maiden is to be amused, are the reverse of those with which Oberon disturbs Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “There sleeps Titania; “With the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, “And make her full of hateful fantasies.” Dr. Warburton, who appears to me to have totally misunderstood this passage, reads—Rein up, &c. in which he has been followed, in my opinion too hastily, by the subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 357 3&lblank; on every sacred room;] See Chaucer's Cant. Tales, v. 3482, edit. Tyrwhitt: “On four halves of the hous aboute,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 358 4In state as wholesome,] Wholesome here signifies integer. He wishes the castle may stand in its present state of perfection, which the following words plainly show: “&lblank; as in state 'tis fit.” Warburton.

Note return to page 359 5Worthy the owner, and the owner it.] And cannot be the true reading. The context will not allow it; and his court to Queen Elizabeth directs us to another: “&lblank; as the owner it.” For, sure, he had more address than to content himself with wishing a thing to be, which his complaisance must suppose actually was, namely, the worth of the owner. Warburton. Surely this change is unnecessary. The fairy wishes that the castle and its owner, till the day of doom, may be worthy of each other. Queen Elizabeth's worth was not devolvable, as we have seen by the conduct of her foolish successor. The prayer of the fairy is therefore sufficiently reasonable and intelligible without alteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 360 6The several chairs of order look you scour With juice of balm, &c.] It was an article of our ancient luxury, to rub tables, &c. with aromatic herbs. Thus, in the Story of Baucis and Philemon, Ovid. Met. viii.: &lblank; mensam &lblank; &lblank; æquatam Mentha abstersere virenti. Pliny informs us, that the Romans did the same, to drive away evil spirits. Steevens.

Note return to page 361 7In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white; Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,] These lines are most miserably corrupted. In the words—Flowers purple, blue and white—the purple is left uncompared. To remedy this, the editors, who seem to have been sensible of the imperfection of the comparison, read—and rich embroidery; that is, according to them, as the blue and white flowers are compared to sapphire and pearl, the purple is compared to rich embroidery. Thus, instead of mending one false step, they have made two, by bringing sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, under one predicament. The lines were wrote thus by the poet: “In emerald tufts, flowers purfled, blue, and white; “Like sapphire, pearl, in rich embroidery.” i. e. let there be blue and white flowers worked on the greensward, like sapphire and pearl in rich embroidery. To purfle, is to overlay with tinsel, gold thread, &c. so our ancestors called a certain lace of this kind of work a purfling lace. 'Tis from the French pourfiler. So, Spenser; “&lblank; she was yclad, “All in a silken camus, lilly white, “Purfled upon, with many a folded plight.” The change of and into in, in the second verse, is necessary. For flowers worked, or purfled in the grass, were not like sapphire and pearl simply, but sapphire and pearl in embroidery. How the corrupt reading and was introduced into the text, we have shown above. Warburton. Whoever is convinced by Dr. Warburton's note, will show he has very little studied the manner of his author, whose splendid incorrectness in this instance, as in some others, is surely preferable to the insipid regularity proposed in its room. Steevens.

Note return to page 362 8&lblank; charactery.] For the matter with which they make letters. Johnson. So, in Julius Cæsar: “All the charactery of my sad brows.” i. e. all that seems to be written on them. Again, in Ovid's Banquet of Sence, by Chapman, 1595: “Wherein was writ in sable charectry.” Steevens. Bullokar, in his English Expositor Improved by R. Browne, 12mo. says that charactery is “a writing by characters, in strange marks.” In 1588 was printed—“Charactery, an Arte of Shorte, Swift, and Secrete Writing, by Character. Invented by Timothie Brighte, Doctor of Phisike.” This seems to have been the first book upon short-hand writing printed in England. Douce.

Note return to page 363 9&lblank; lock hand in hand;] The metre requires us to read— “lock hands.” Thus Milton, who perhaps had this passage in his mind, when he makes Comus say: “Come, knit hands, and beat the ground “In a light fantastic round.” Steevens.

Note return to page 364 1&lblank; of middle earth.] Spirits are supposed to inhabit the ethereal regions, and fairies to dwell under ground; men therefore are in a middle station. Johnson. So, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Guy of Warwick, bl. l. no date: “And win the fayrest mayde of middle erde.” Again, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, fol. 26: “Adam, for pride lost his price “In mydell erth.” Again, in the MSS. called William and the Werwolf, in the library of King's College, Cambridge, p. 15: “And saide God that madest man, and all middel erthe.” Ruddiman, the learned compiler of the Glossary to Gawin Douglas's Translation of the Æneid, affords the following illustration of this contested phrase: “It is yet in use in the North of Scotland among old people, by which we understand this earth in which we live, in opposition to the grave: Thus they say, There's no man in middle erd is able to do it, i. e. no man alive, or on this earth, and so it is used by our author. But the reason is not so easy to come by; perhaps it is because they look upon this life as a middle state (as it is) between Heaven and Hell, which last is frequently taken for the grave. Or that life is as it were a middle betwixt non-entity, before we are born, and death, when we go hence and are no more seen; as life is called a coming into the world, and death a going out of it.”—Again, among the Addenda to the Glossary aforesaid: “Myddil erd is borrowed from the A. S. middan-eard, middangeard, mundus, middaneardlice, mundanus, se laessa middan-eard, microcosmus.” Steevens. The author of The Remarks says, the phrase signifies neither more nor less, than the earth or world, from its imaginary situation in the midst or middle of the Ptolemaic system, and has not the least reference to either spirits or fairies. Reed.

Note return to page 365 2Vile worm,] The old copy reads—vild. That vild, which so often occurs in these plays, was not an error of the press, but the old spelling and the pronunciation of the time, appears from these lines of Heywood, in his Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, 1637: “Earth. What goddess, or how styl'd? “Age. Age, am I call'd. “Earth. Hence false virago vild.” Malone.

Note return to page 366 3&lblank; o'er-look'd even in thy birth.] i. e. slighted as soon as born. Steevens.

Note return to page 367 4With trial-fire, &c.] So, Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Faithful Shepherdess: “In this flame his finger thrust, “Which will burn him if he lust; “But if not, away will turn, “As loth unspotted flesh to burn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 368 5And turn him to no pain;] This appears to have been the common phraseology of our author's time. So again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; O, my heart bleeds, “To think of the teen that I have turn'd you to.” Again, in K. Henry VI. Part III.: “Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, “For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, “And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to.” Of this line there is no trace in the original play, on which the Third Part of K. Henry VI. was formed. Malone.

Note return to page 369 6Eva. It is right; indeed, &c.] This short speech, which is very much in character for Sir Hugh, I have inserted from the old quarto 1619. Theobald. I have not discarded Mr. Theobald's insertion, though perhaps the propriety of it is questionable. Steevens.

Note return to page 370 7&lblank; and luxury!] Luxury is here used for incontinence. So, in King Lear: “To't luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 371 8Lust is but a bloody fire,] A bloody fire, means a fire in the blood. In The Second Part of Henry IV. Act IV. the same expression occurs: “Led on by bloody youth,” &c. i. e. sanguine youth. Steevens. In Sonnets by H. C. [Henry Constable,] 1594, we find the same image: “Lust is a fire, that for an hour or twaine “Giveth a scorching blaze, and then he dies; “Love a continual furnace doth maintaine,” &c. So also, in The Tempest: “&lblank; the strongest oaths are straw “To the fire i' the blood.” Malone.

Note return to page 372 9During this song, &c.] This direction I thought proper to insert from the old quartos. Theobald.

Note return to page 373 1&lblank; the fairies pinch Falstaff.] So, in Lily's Endymion, 1591: “The fairies dance, and, with a song, pinch him.” And, in his Maid's Metamorphosis, 1600, they threaten the same punishment. Steevens.

Note return to page 374 2See you these, husband? do not these fair yokes Become the forest better than the town?] Mrs. Page's meaning is this. Seeing the horns (the types of cuckoldom) in Falstaff's hands, she asks her husband, whether those yokes are not more proper in the forest than in the town; i. e. than in his own family. Theobald. The editor of the second folio changed yoaks to—oaks. Malone. Perhaps, only the printer of the second folio is to blame, for the omission of the letter—y. Steevens. I am confident that oaks is the right reading. I agree with Theobald that the words, “See you these, husband?” relate to the buck's horns; but what resemblance is there between the horns of a buck and a yoak? What connection is there between a yoak and a forest? Why, none; whereas, on the other hand, the connection between a forest and an oak is evident; nor is the resemblance less evident between a tree and the branches of a buck's horns; they are indeed called branches from that very resemblance; and the horns of a deer are called in French les bois. Though horns are types of cuckoldom, yoaks are not; and surely the types of cuckoldom, whatever they may be, are more proper for a town than for a forest. I am surprised that the subsequent editors should have adopted an amendment, which makes the passage nonsense. M. Mason. I have inserted Mr. M. Mason's note, because he appears to think it brings conviction with it. Perhaps, however, (as Dr. Farmer observes to me,) he was not aware that the extremities of yokes for cattle, as still used in several counties of England, bend upwards, and rising very high, in shape resemble horns. Steevens.

Note return to page 375 3&lblank; to master Brook;] We ought rather to read with the old quarto—“which must be paid to master Ford;” for as Ford, to mortify Falstaff, addresses him throughout his speech by the name of Brook, the describing himself by the same name creates a confusion. A modern editor plausibly enough reads—“which must be paid too, Master Brook;” but the first sketch shows that to is right; for the sentence, as it stands in the quarto, will not admit too Malone.

Note return to page 376 4&lblank; how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent,] A Jack o' Lent appears to have been some puppet which was thrown at in Lent, like Shrove-tide cocks. So, in the old comedy of Lady Alimony, 1659: “&lblank; throwing cudgels “At Jack-a-Lents, or Shrove-cocks.” Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Tamer Tamed: “&lblank; if I forfeit, “Make me a Jack o' Lent, and break my shins “For untagg'd points, and counters.”— Again, in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “&lblank; on an Ash-Wednesday, “Where thou didst stand six weeks the Jack o' Lent “For boys to hurl three throws a penny at thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 377 5&lblank; a coxcomb of frize?] i. e. a fool's cap made out of Welch materials. Wales was famous for this cloth. So, in K. Edward I. 1599: “Enter Lluellin, alias Prince of Wales, &c. with swords and bucklers, and frieze jerkins.” Again: “Enter Sussex, &c. with a mantle of frieze.” “&lblank; my boy shall weare a mantle of this country's weaving, to keep him warm.” Steevens.

Note return to page 378 6&lblank; the Welch flannel;] The very word is derived from a Welch one, so that it is almost unnecessary to add that flannel was originally the manufacture of Wales. In the old play of K. Edward I. 1599: “Enter Hugh ap David, Guenthian his wench in flannel, and Jack his novice.” Again: “Here's a wholesome Welch wench, “Lapt in her flannel, as warm as wool.” Steevens.

Note return to page 379 7&lblank; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me:] Though this be perhaps not unintelligible, yet it is an odd way of confessing his dejection. I should wish to read: “&lblank; ignorance itself has a plume o' me.” That is, I am so depressed, that ignorance itself plucks me, and decks itself with the spoils of my weakness. Of the present reading, which is probably right, the meaning may be, I am so enfeebled, that ignorance itself weighs me down and oppresses me. Johnson. “Ignorance itself,” says Falstaff, “is a plummet o'er me.” If any alteration be necessary, I think, “Ignorance itself is a planet o'er me,” would have a chance to be right. Thus Bobadil excuses his cowardice: “Sure I was struck with a planet, for I had no power to touch my weapon.” Farmer. As Mr. M. Mason observes, there is a passage in this very play which tends to support Dr. Farmer's amendment. “I will awe him with my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns: Master Brook, thou shalt know, I will predominate over the peasant.” Dr. Farmer might also have countenanced his conjecture by a passage in K. Henry VI. where Queen Margaret says, that Suffolk's face “&lblank; rul'd like a wandering planet over me.” Steevens. Perhaps Falstaff's meaning may be this: “Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me: i. e. above me;” ignorance itself is not so low as I am, by the length of a plummet line. Tyrwhitt. “Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me.” i. e. serves to point my obliquities. This is said in consequence of Evans's last speech. The allusion is to the examination of a carpenter's work by the plummet held over it; of which line Sir Hugh is here represented as the lead. Henley. I am satisfied with the old reading. Malone.

Note return to page 380 8Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband,] This and the following little speech I have inserted from the old quartos. The retrenchment, I presume, was by the players. Sir John Falstaff is sufficiently punished, in being disappointed and exposed. The expectation of his being prosecuted for the twenty pounds, gives the conclusion too tragical a turn. Besides, it is poetical justice that Ford should sustain this loss, as a fine for his unreasonable jealousy. Theobald.

Note return to page 381 9&lblank; laugh at my wife,] The two plots are excellently connected, and the transition very artfully made in this speech. Johnson.

Note return to page 382 1&lblank; in white,] The old copy, by the inadvertence of either the author or transcriber, reads—in green; and in the two subsequent speeches of Mrs. Page, instead of green we find white. The corrections, which are fully justified by what has preceded, (see p. 175,) were made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 383 2&lblank; marry boys?] This and the next speech are likewise restorations from the old quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 384 3&lblank; amaze her;] i. e. confound her by your questions. So, in Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. III.: “I am amaz'd with matter.” Again, in Goulart's Memorable Histories, &c. 4to. 1607: “I have seene two men (the father and the sonne) have their bodies so amazed and deaded with thunder,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 385 4Page. Well, what remedy?] In the first sketch of this play, which, as Mr. Pope observes, is much inferior to the latter performance, the only sentiment of which I regret the omission, occurs at this critical time. When Fenton brings in his wife, there is this dialogue: “Mrs. Ford. Come, Mrs. Page, I must be bold with you. “'Tis pity to part love that is so true. “Mrs. Page. [Aside.] Although that I have miss'd in my intent, “Yet I am glad my husband's match is cross'd. “&lblank; Here Fenton, take her.— “Eva. “Come, master Page, you must needs agree. “Ford. “I' faith, sir, come, you see your wife is pleas'd. Page. “I cannot tell, and yet my heart is eas'd; “And yet it doth me good the doctor miss'd. “Come hither, Fenton, and come hither daughter.” Johnson.

Note return to page 386 5&lblank; all sorts of deer are chas'd.] Young and old, does as well as bucks. He alludes to Fenton's having just run down Anne Page. Malone.

Note return to page 387 6I will dance and eat plums at your wedding.] I have no doubt but this line, supposed to be spoken by Evans, is misplaced, and should come in after that spoken by Falstaff, which being intended to rhyme with the last line of Page's speech, should immediately follow it; and when the passage will run thus: “Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, Heaven give thee joy! “What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. “Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chac'd. “Evans. I will dance and eat plums,” &c. M. Mason. I have availed myself of Mr. M. Mason's very judicious remark, which had also been made by Mr. Malone, who observes that Evans's speech—“I will dance,” &c. was restored from the first quarto by Mr. Pope. Steevens.

Note return to page 388 7Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, that it was written at the command of Queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be diffused through more plays; but suspecting that it might pall by continued uniformity, directed the poet to diversify his manner, by shewing him in love. No task is harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the Queen, if the story be true, seems not to have known—that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff must have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained. Falstaff could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. He could only counterfeit love, and his professions could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, but of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he could to the work enjoined him; yet having perhaps in the former plays completed his own idea, seems not to have been able to give Falstaff all his former power of entertainment. This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number of the personages, who exhibit more characters appropriated and discriminated, than perhaps can be found in any other play. Whether Shakspeare was the first that produced upon the English stage the effect of language distorted and depraved by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly decide.* [Subnote: *In The Three Ladies of London, 1584, is the character of an Italian merchant, very strongly marked by foreign pronunciation. Dr. Dodypoll, in the comedy which bears his name, is, like Caius, a French physician. This piece appeared at least a year before The Merry Wives of Windsor. The hero of it speaks such another jargon as the antagonist of Sir Hugh, and like him is cheated of his mistress. In several other pieces, more ancient than the earliest of Shakspeare's, provincial characters are introduced. Steevens. In the old play of Henry the Fifth, French soldiers are introduced, speaking broken English. Boswell.] This mode of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise only on him who originally discovered it, for it requires not much of either wit or judgement: its success must be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a skilful mouth, even he that despises it, is unable to resist. The conduct of this drama is deficient; the action begins and ends often, before the conclusion, and the different parts might change places without inconvenience; but its general power, that power by which all works of genius shall finally be tried, is such, that perhaps it never yet had reader or spectator who did not think it too soon at the end. Johnson. The story of The Two Lovers of Pisa, from which (as Dr. Farmer has observed) Falstaff's adventures in this play seem to have been taken, is thus related in Tarleton's Newes out of Purgatorie, bl. l. no date. [Entered in the Stationers' Books, June 16, 1590.] “In Pisa, a famous cittie of Italye, there liued a gentleman of good linage and lands, feared as well for his wealth, as honoured for his vertue; but indeed well thought on for both: yet the better for his riches. This gentleman had one onelye daughter called Margaret, who for her beauty was liked of all, and desired of many: but neither might their sutes, nor her own preuaile about her father's resolution, who was determyned not to marrye her, but to such a man as should be able in abundance to maintain the excellency of her beauty. Diuers young gentlemen proffered large feoffments, but in vaine: a maide shee must be still: till at last an olde doctor in the towne, that professed phisicke, became a sutor to her, who was a welcome man to her father, in that he was one of the welthiest men in all Pisa. A tall strippling he was, and a proper youth, his age about fourescore; his head as white as milke, wherein for offence sake there was left neuer a tooth: but it is no matter; what he wanted in person he had in the purse; which the poore gentlewoman little regarded, wishing rather to tie herself to one that might fit her content, though they liued meanely, then to him with all the wealth in Italye. But shee was yong and forcst to follow her father's direction, who vpon large couenants was content his daughter should marry with the doctor, and whether she like him or no, the match was made vp, and in short time she was married. The poore wench was bound to the stake, and had not onely an old impotent man, but one that was so jealous, as none might enter into his house without suspicion, nor she doo any thing without blame: the least glance, the smallest countenance, any smile, was a manifest instance to him, that shee thought of others better than himselfe; thvs he himselfe liued in a hell, and tormented his wife in as ill perplexitie. At last it chaunced, that a young gentleman of the citie comming by her house, and seeing her looke out at her window, noting her rare and excellent proportion, fell in loue with her, and that so extreamelye, as his passion had no means till her fauour might mittigate his heartsicke content. The young man that was ignorant in amorous matters, and had neuer been vsed to courte anye gentlewoman, thought to reueale his passions to some one freend, that might give him counsaile for the winning of her loue; and thinking experience was the surest maister, on a daye seeing the olde doctor walking in the churche, (that was Margarets husband,) little knowing who he was, he thought this was the fittest man to whom he might discouer his passions, for that hee was olde and knewe much, and was a physition that with his drugges might help him forward in his purposes: so that seeing the old man walke solitary, he ioinde vnto him, and after a curteous salute, told him he was to impart a matter of great import vnto him; wherein if hee would not onely be secrete, but endeauour to pleasure him, his pains should be euery way to the full considered. You must imagine, gentleman, quoth Mutio, for so was the doctors name, that men of our profession are no blabs, but hold their secrets in their hearts' bottome; and therefore reueale what you please, it shall not onely be concealed, but cured; if either my art or counsaile may do it. Upon this Lionello, (so was the young gentleman called,) told and discourst vnto him from point to point how he was falne in loue with a gentlewoman that was married to one of his profession; discouered her dwelling and the house: and for that he was vnacquainted with the woman, and a man little experienced in loue matters, he required his favour to further him with his aduise. Mutio at this motion was stung to the hart, knowing it was his wife hee was fallen in love withal; yet to conceale the matter, and to experience his wiue's chastity, and that if she plaide false, he might be reuenged on them both, he dissembled the matter, and answered, that he knewe the woman very well, and commended her highly; but saide, she had a churle to her husband, and therefore he thought shee would bee the more tractable: trie her man, quoth hee; fainte hart neuer woonne fair lady; and if shee will not bee brought to the bent of your bowe, I will provide such a potion as shall dispatch all to your owne content; and to giue your further instructions for opportunitie, knowe that her husband is foorth euery afternoone from three till sixe, Thus farre I have aduised you, because I pitty your passions as my selfe being once a louer: but now I charge thee, reueale it to none whomsoever, lest it doo disparage my credit, to meddle in amorous matters. The young gentleman not onely promised all carefull secrecy, but gaue him harty thanks for his good counsell, promising to meete him there the next day, and tell him what newes. Then hee left the old man, who was almost mad for feare his wife should any way play false. He saw by experience, braue men came to besiege the castle, and seeing it was in a woman's custodie, and had so weake a gouernor as himselfe, he doubted it would in time be deliuered up: which feare made him almost franticke, yet he driude of the time in great torment, till he might heare from his riual. Lionello, he hastes him home, and sutes him in his brauerye, and goes down towards the house of Mutio, where he sees her at her windowe, whom he courted with a passionate looke, with such an humble salute, as shee might perceiue how the gentleman was affectionate. Margaretta looking earnestly upon him, and nothing the perfection of his proportion, accounted him in her eye the flower of all Pisa; thinkte herselfe fortunate if she might haue him for her freend, to supply those defaultes that she found in Mutio. Sundry times that afternoone he past by her window, and he cast not vp more louing lookes, then he receiued gratious fauours: which did so incourage him, that the next daye betweene three and sixe hee went to her house, and knocking at the doore, desired to speake with the mistris of the house, who hearing by her maid's description what he was, commaunded him to come in, where she interteined him with all curtesie. “The youth that neuer before had giuen the attempt to couet a ladye, began his exordium with a blushe: and yet went forward so well, that he discourst vnto her howe he loued her, and that if it might please her so to accept of his seruice, as of a freende euer vowde in all duetye to bee at her commaunde, the care of her honour should bee deerer to him then his life, and hee would bee ready to prise her discontent with his bloud at all times. “The gentlewoman was a little coye, but before they part they concluded that the next day at foure of the clock hee should come thither and eate a pound of cherries, which was resolued on with a succado des labras; and so with a loath to depart they took their leaues. Lionello, as joyfull a man as might be, hyed him to the church to meete his olde doctor, where hee found him in his olde walke. What newes, syr, quoth Mutio? How have you sped? Even as I can wishe, quoth Lionello; for I haue been with my mistresse, and haue found her so tractable, that I hope to make the old peasant her husband look broad-hedded by a pair of browantlers. How deepe this strooke into Mutio's hart, let them imagine that can conjecture what ielousie is; insomuch that the olde doctor askte, when should be the time: marry, quoth Lionello, to morrow at foure of the clocke in the afternoone; and then maister doctor, quoth hee, will I dub the olde squire knight of the forked order. “Thus they past on in chat, till it grew late; and then Lyonello went home to his lodging, and Mutio to his house, couering all his sorrowes with a merrye countenance, with full resolution to revenge them both the next day with extremitie. He past the night as patiently as he could, and the next day after dinner awaye hee went, watching when it should bee four of the clocke. At the houre justly came Lyonello, and was intertained with all courtesie: but scarse had they kist, ere the maide cried out to her mistresse that her maister was at the doore; for he hasted, knowing that a horne was but a litle while in grafting. Margaret at this alarum was amazed, and yet for a shifte chopt Lyonello into a great driefatte full of feathers, and sat her downe close to her woorke: by that came Mutio in blowing; and as though he came to looke somewhat in haste, called for the keyes of his chambers, and looked in euery place, searching so narrowlye in eurye corner of the house, that he left not the very priuie vnsearcht. Seeing he could not finde him, hee saide nothing, but fayning himself not well at ease, stayde at home, so that poore Lionello was faine to staye in the drifatte till the old churle was in bed with his wife: and then the maide let him out at a backe doore, who went home with a flea in his eare to his lodging. “Well, the next daye he went again to meete his doctor, whome hee found in his woonted walke. What news, quoth Mutio? How have you sped? A poxe of the old slaue, quoth Lionello, I was no sooner in, and had giuen my mistresse one kisse, but the iealous asse was at the door; the maide spied him, and, cryed, her maister: so that the poore gentlewoman for very shifte, was faine to put me in a driefatte of feathers that stoode in an olde chamber, and there I was faine to tarrie while he was in bed and asleepe, and then the maide let me out, and I departed. “But it is no matter; 'twas but a chaunce; and I hope to crye quittance with him ere it be long. As how, quoth Mutio? Marry thus, quoth Lionello: she sent me woord by her maide this daye, that upon Thursday next the old churle suppeth with a patient of his a mile out of Pisa, and then I feare not but to quitte him for all. It is well, quoth Mutio; fortune bee your freende. I thank you, quoth Lionello; and so after a little more prattle they departed. “To be shorte, Thursday came; and about sixe of the clocke foorth goes Mutio, no further than a freendes house of his, from whence he might descrye who went into his house. Straight he sawe Lionello enter in; and after goes hee, insomuch that he was scarcelye sitten downe, before the mayde cryed out againe, my maister comes. The good wife that before had provided for afterclaps, had found out a priuie place between two seelings of a plauncher, and there she thrust Lionello; and her husband came sweting. What news, quoth shee, drives you home againe so soone, husband? Marrye, sweete wife, (quoth he,) a fearfull dreame that I had this night, which came to my remembrance; and that was this: Methought there was a villeine that came secretly into my house with a naked poinard in his hand, and hid himselfe; but I could not finde the place: with that mine nose bled, and I came backe; and by the grace of God I will seek euery corner in the house for the quiet of my minde. Marry I pray you do, husband, quoth she. With that he lockt in all the doors, and began to search euery chamber, euery hole, euery chest, euery tub, the very well; he stabd every featherbed through, and made hauocke, like a mad man, which made him thinke all was in vaine, and hee began to blame his eies that thought they saw that which they did not. Upon this he reste halfe lunaticke, and all night he was very wakefull; that towards the morning he fell into a dead sleepe, and then was Lionello conueighed away. “In the morning when Mutio wakened, hee thought how by no means hee should be able to take Lyonello tardy; yet he laid in his head a most dangerous plot, and that was this. Wife, quoth he, I must the next Monday ride to Vicensa to visit an olde patient of mine; till my returne, which will be some ten dayes, I will have thee stay at our little graunge house in the countrey. Marry very well content, husband, quoth she: with that he kist her, and was verye pleasant, as though he had suspected nothing, and away hee flinges to the church, where he meetes Lionello. What sir, quoth he, what newes? Is your mistresse yours in possession? No, a plague of the old slaue, quoth he: I think he is either a witch, or els woorkes by magick: for I can no sooner enter in the doors, but he is at my backe, and so he was again yesternight; for I was not warm in my seat before the maide cried, my maister comes; and then was the poore soule faine to conueigh me between two seelings of a chamber in a fit place for the purpose: wher I laught hartely to myself, too see how he sought euery corner, ransackt euery tub, and stabd every feather- bed,—but in vaine; I was safe enough till the morning, and then when he was fast asleepe, I lept out. Fortune frowns on you, quoth Mutio: Ay, but I hope, quoth Lionello, this is the last time, and now shee will begin to smile; for on Monday next he rides to Vicensa, and his wyfe lyes at a grange house a little of the towne, and there in his absence I will revenge all forepassed misfortunes. God send it be so, quoth Mutio; and took his leaue. These two louers longed for Monday, and at last it came. Early in the morning Mutio horst himselfe, and his wife, his maide, and a man, and no more, and away he rides to his grange house; where after he had brok his fast he took his leaue, and away towards Vicensa. He rode not far ere by a false way he returned into a thicket, and there with a company of cuntry peasants lay in an ambuscade to take the young gentleman. In the afternoon comes Lionello gallopping; and assoon as he came within sight of the house, he sent back his horse by his boy, & went easily afoot, and there at the very entry was entertained by Margaret, who led him up ye staires, and conuaid him into her bedchamber, saying he was welcome into so mean a cottage: but quoth she, now I hope fortune shal not envy the purity of our loues. Alas, alas, mistris (cried the maid,) heer is my maister, and 100 men with him, with bils and staues. We are betraid, quoth Lionel, and I am but a dead man. Feare not, quoth she, but follow me; and straight she carried him downe into a lowe parlor, where stoode an old rotten chest full of writinges. She put him into that, and couered him with old papers and euidences, and went to the gate to meet her husband. Why signior Mutio, what means this hurly burly, quoth she? Vile and shameless strumpet as thou art, thou shalt know by and by, quoth he. Where is thy loue? All we haue watcht him, & seen him enter in: now quoth he, shal neither thy tub of feathers, nor thy seeling serue, for perish he shall with fire, or els fall into my hands. Doo thy woorst, iealous foole, quoth she; I ask thee no fauour. With that in a rage he beset the house round, and then set fire on it. Oh! in what a perplexitie was poore Lionello, that was shut in a chest, and the fire about his eares? And how was Margaret passionat, that knew her louer in such danger? Yet she made light of the matter, and as one in a rage called her maid to her and said: Come on, wench; seeing thy maister mad with iealousie hath set the house and al my liuing on fire, I will be reuenged vpon him; help me heer to lift this old chest where all his writings and deeds are; let that burne first; and assoon as I see that on fire, I will walk towards my freends. for the old foole wil be beggard, and I will refuse him. Mutio that knew al his obligations and statutes lay there, puld her back, and bad two of his men carry the chest into the feeld, and see it were safe; himself standing by and seeing his house burnd downe, sticke and stone. Then quieted in his minde he went home with his wife, and began to flatter her, thinking assuredly yt he had burnd her paramour; causing his chest to be carried in a cart to his house at Pisa. Margaret impatient went to her mothers, and complained to her and to her brethren of the iealousie of her husband; who maintained her it be true, and desired but a daies respite to proue it. Wel, hee was bidden to supper the next night at her mothers, she thinking to make her daughter and him freends againe. In the meane time he to his woonted walk in the church, and there præter expectationem he found Lionello walking. Wondring at this, he straight enquires, what news? What newes, maister doctor, quoth he, and he fell in a great laughing: in faith yesterday I scapt a scowring; for, syrrah, I went to the grange house, where I was appointed to come, and I was no sooner gotten vp the chamber, but the magicall villeine her husband beset the house with bils and staues, and that he might be sure no seeling nor corner should shrowde me, he set the house on fire, and so burnt it to the ground. Why, quoth Mutio, and how did you escape? Alas, quoth he, wel fare a woman's wit! She conueighed me into an old cheste full of writings, which she knew her husband durst not burne; and so was I saued and brought to Pisa, and yesternight by her maide let home to my lodging. This, quoth he, is the pleasantest iest that ever I heard; and vpon this I haue a sute to you. I am this night bidden foorth to supper; you shall be my guest: onelye I will craue so much favour, as after supper for a pleasant sporte to make relation what successe you haue had in your loues. For that I will not sticke, quothe he; and so he carried Lionello to his mother-in-lawes house with him, and discoursed to his wiues brethren who he was, and how at supper he would disclose the whole matter: for quoth he, he knowes not that I am Margarets husband. At this all the brethren bad him welcome, and so did the mother too; and Margaret she was kept out of sight. Supper-time being come, they fell to their victals, and Lionello was carrowst vnto by Mutio, who was very pleasant, to draw him to a merry humor, that he might to the ful discourse the effect and fortunes of his loue. Supper being ended, Mutio requested him to tel to the gentleman what had hapned between him and his mistresse. Lionello with a smiling countenance began to describe his mistresse, the house and street where she dwelt, how he fell in loue with her, and how he vsed the counsell of this doctor, who in al his affaires was his secretarye. Margaret heard all this with a greate feare; and when he came at the last point she caused a cup of wine to be giuen him by one of her sisters wherein was a ring that he had giuen Margaret. As he had told how he escapt burning, and was ready to confirm all for a troth, the gentlewoman drunke to him; who taking the cup, and seeing the ring, hauing a quick wit and a reaching head, spide the fetch, and perceiued that all this while this was his louers husband, to whome he had reuealed these escapes. At this drinking ye wine, and swallowing the ring into his mouth, he went forward: Gentlemen, quoth he, how like you of my loues and my fortunes? Wel, quoth the gentlemen; I pray you is it true? As true, quoth he, as if I would be so simple as to reueal what I did to Margaret's husband: for know you, gentlemen, that I knew this Mutio to be her husband whom I notified to be my louer; and for yt he was generally known through Pisa to be a iealous fool, therefore with these tales I brought him into this paradice, which indeed are follies of mine own braine: for trust me, by the faith of a gentleman, I neuer spake to the woman, was never in her companye, neither doo I know her if I see her. At this they all fell in a laughing at Mutio, who was ashamed that Lionello had so scoft him: but all was well,—they were made friends; but the iest went so to his hart, that he shortly after died, and Lionello enioyed the ladye: and for that they two were the death of the old man, now are they plagued in purgatory, and he whips them with nettles.” It is observable that in the foregoing novel (which, I believe, Shakspeare had read,) there is no trace of the buck-basket.—In the first tale of The Fortunate, the Deceived, and the Unfortunate Lovers, (of which I have an edition printed in 1684, but the novels it contains had probably appeared in English in our author's time,) a young student of Bologne is taught by an old doctor how to make love; and his first essay is practised on his instructor's wife. The jealous husband having tracked his pupil to his house, enters unexpectedly, fully persuaded that he should detect the lady and her lover together; but the gallant is protected from his fury by being concealed under a heap of linen half-dried; and afterwards informs him, (not knowing that his tutor was likewise his mistress's husband,) what a lucky escape he had. It is therefore, I think, highly probable that Shakspeare had read both stories. Malone.

Note return to page 389 10208001Sir Hugh Evans,] See p. 7, and 8. The question whether priests were formerly knights in consequence of being called Sir, still remains to be decided. Examples that those of the lower class were so called are very numerous: and hence it may be fairly inferred that they at least were not knights, nor is there perhaps a single instance of the order of knighthood being conferred upon ecclesiastics of any degree. Having casually, however, met with a note in Dyer's Reports, which seems at first view not only to contain some authority for the custom of knighting priests by Abbots, in consequence of a charter granted to the Abbot of Reading for that purpose, but likewise the opinion of two learned judges, founded thereupon, that priests were anciently knights, I have been induced to enter a little more fully upon this discussion, and to examine the validity of those opinions. The extract from Dyer is a marginal note in p. 216. B. in the following words: “Trin. 3 Jac. Blanc le Roy Holcraft and Gibbons, cas Popham dit que il ad view un ancient charter grant al Abbot de Reading per Roy d'Angliterre, a fair knight, sur que son conceit fuit que l'Abbot fait, ecclesiastical persons, knights, d'illonque come a luy le nosmes de Sir John and Sir Will. que est done al ascun Clerks a cest jour fuit derive quel opinion Coke Attorney-General applaud disont que fueront milites cælestes et milites terrestres.” It is proper to mention here that all the reports have been diligently searched for this case of Holcraft and Gibbons, in hopes of finding some further illustration, but without success. The charter then above-mentioned appears upon further enquiry to have been the foundation charter of Reading Abbey, and to have been granted by Henry I. in 1125. The words of it referred to by Chief Justice Popham, and upon which he founded his opinion, are as follow: “Nec faciat milites nisi in sacra veste Christi, in qua parvulos suscipere modeste caveat. Maturos autem seu discretos tam clericos quam laicos provide suscipiat.” This passage is likewise cited by Selden in his notes upon Eadmer, p. 206, and to illustrate the word “clericos” he refers to Mathew Paris for an account of a priest called John Gatesdene, who was created a knight by Henry III. but not until after he had resigned all his benefices, “as he ought to have done,” says the historian, who in another place relating the disgrace of Peter de Rivallis, Treasurer to Henry III. (see p. 405, edit. 1640,) has clearly shown how incompatible it was that the clergy should bear arms, as the profession of a knight required; and as a further proof may be added the well known story related by the same historian, of Richard I. and the warlike Bishop of Beauvais. I conceive that the word “clericos” refers to such of the clergy who should apply for the order of knighthood under the usual restriction of quitting their former profession; and from Selden's note upon the passage it may be collected that this was his own opinion; or it may possibly allude to those particular knights who were considered as religious or ecclesiastical, such as the knights of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, &c. concerning whom see Ashmole's Order of the Garter, p. 49, 51. With respect to the custom of ecclesiastics conferring the order of knighthood, it certainly prevailed in this country before the conquest, as appears from Ingulphus, and was extremely disliked by the Normans; and therefore at a council held at Westminster in the third year of Henry I. it was ordained, “Ne Abbates faciant milites.” See Eadmeri Hist. 68. and Selden's note, p. 207. However it appears that notwithstanding this prohibition, which may at the same time serve to show the great improbability that the order of knighthood was conferred upon ecclesiastics, some of the ceremonies at the creation of knights still continued to be performed by Abbots, as the taking the sword from the altar, &c. which may be seen at large in Selden's Titles of Honour, part ii. chap. v. and Dugd. Warw. 531, and accordingly this charter, which is dated twenty-three years after the council at Westminster, amongst other things directs the Abbot, “Nec faciat milites nisi in sacra veste Christi,” &c. Lord Coke's acquiescence in Popham's opinion is founded upon a similar misconception, and his quaint remark “que fueront milites cælestes et milites terrestres,” can only excite a smile. The marginal quotation from Fuller's Church History, b. vi. p. 352. “Moe Sirs than knights” referred to in a former note by Sir J. Hawkins, certainly means—“that these Sirs were not knights,” and Fuller accounts for the title by supposing them ungraduated priests. Before I dismiss this comment upon the opinions of the learned judges, I am bound to observe that Popham's opinion is also referred to, but in a very careless manner, in Godbold's Reports, p. 399, in these words: “Popham once Chief Justice of this court said that he had seen a commission directed unto a bishop to knight all the parsons within his diocese, and that was the cause that they were called Sir John, Sir Thomas, and so they continued to be called until the reign of Elizabeth.” The idea of knighting all the parsons in a diocese is too ludicrous to need a serious refutation; and the inaccuracy of the assertion, that the title Sir lasted till the reign of Elizabeth, thereby implying that it then ceased, is sufficiently obvious, not only from the words of Popham in the other quotation “que est done al ascuns clerks cest jour,” but from the proof given by Sir John Hawkins of its existence at a much later period. Having thus, I trust, refuted the opinion that the title of Sir was given to priests in consequence of their being knights, I shall venture to account for it in another manner. This custom then was most probably borrowed from the French, amongst whom the title Domnus is often appropriated to ecclesiastics, more particularly to the Benedictines, Carthusians, and Cistercians. It appears to have been originally a title of honour and respect, and was perhaps, at first, in this kingdom as in France, applied to particular orders, and became afterwards general as well among the secular as the regular clergy. The reason of preferring Domnus to Dominus was, that the latter belonged to the Supreme Being, and the other was considered as a subordinate title, according to an old verse: Cœlestem Dominum, terrestrem dicito Domnum. Hence, Dom, Damp, Dan, Sire, and, lastly, Sir; for authorities are not wanting to show that all these titles were given to ecclesiastics; but I shall forbear to produce them, having, I fear, already trespassed too far upon the reader's patience with this long note. Douce. “And sundry other Heathen nations had their Priests instead of Princes, as Kings to gouerne, as Presbiter Iohn is at this present: and to this day the high Courts of Parliament in England do consist by ancient custome of calling to that honorable Court of the Lords spirituall and temporall, vnderstood by the Lords spirituall, the Archbishops and Bishops, as the most ancient inuested Barrons (and some of them Earles and others Graces) of this land, and therefore alwaies first in place next vnder our Soueraigne King, Queene, Emperor and Empresse, Lord and Lady (for there is no difference of sexe in Regall Maiesty). This being so, and that by the lawes Armoriall, Ciuill, and of armes, a Priest in his place in ciuill conuersation is alwayes before any Esquire, as being a Knights fellow by his holy orders: and the third of the three syrs, which only were in request of old (no Barron, Vicount, Earle nor Marquesse being then in vse) to wit, Sir King, Sir Knight, and Sir Priest; this word Dominus in Latine being a nowne substantive common to them all, as Dominus meus Rex, Dominus meus Joab, Dominus Sacerdos: and afterwards when honors began to take their subordination one vnder another, and titles of princely dignity to be hereditarie to succeeding posterity (which hapned vpon the fall of the Romane Empire) then Dominus was in Latine applied to all noble and generous harts, euen from the King to the meanest Priest or temporall person of gentle bloud, coate-armor perfect, and ancetry. But Sir in English was restraind to these foure, Sir Knight, Sir Priest, Sir Graduate, and in common speech Sir Esquire: so as alwayes since distinction of titles were, Sir Priest was euer the second. And, if a Priest or Graduate be a Doctor of Diuinity or Preacher allowed, then is his place before any ordinary Knight; if higher aduanced and authorised, then doth his place allow him a congie with esteeme to be had of him accordingly.” A Decacordon of Tea Quodlibeticall Questions concerning Religion and State, &c. Newly imprinted, 1602, p. 53. Todd.

Note return to page 390 1I cannot regard this Prologue (which indeed is wanting in the quarto editions) as the work of Shakspeare; and perhaps the drama before us was not entirely of his construction. It appears to have been unknown to his associates, Hemings and Condell, till after the first folio was almost printed off. On this subject, indeed, (as I learn from Mr. Malone's extracts from Henslowe's MS.) there seems to have been a play anterior to the present one. “April 7, 1599. Lent unto Thomas Downton to lende unto Mr. Deckers, and harey cheattel, in earnest of ther boocke called Troyeles and Creassedaye, the some of iii lb.” “Lent unto harey cheattell, and Mr. Dickers, [Henry Chettle and master Deckar] in pte of payment of their booke called Troyelles & Cresseda, the 16 of Aprell, 1599, xxs.” “Lent unto Mr. Deckers and Mr. Chettel the 26 of maye, 1599, in earnest of a booke called Troylles and Creseda, the some of xxs.” Steevens. I conceive this prologue to have been written, and the dialogue, in more than one place, interpolated by some Kyd or Marlowe of the time; who may have been paid for altering and amending one of Shakspeare's plays: a very extraordinary instance of our author's negligence, and the managers' taste! Ritson.

Note return to page 391 2The princes orgulous,] Orgulous, i. e. proud, disdainful. Orgueilleux, Fr. This word is used in the ancient romance of Richard Cueur de Lyon: “His atyre was orgulous.” Again, in Froissart's Chronicle, vol. ii. p. 115, b: “&lblank; but they wyst nat how to passe ye ryver of Derna whiche was fell and orgulous at certayne tymes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 392 3&lblank; Priam's six-gated city, &c.] The names of the gates are here exhibited as in the old copy, for the reason assigned by Dr. Farmer; except in the instance of Antenorides, instead of which the old copy has Antenonydus. The quotation from Lydgate shows that was an error of the printer. Malone.

Note return to page 393 4&lblank; fulfilling bolts,] To fulfill, in this place, means to fill till there be no room for more. In this sense it is now obsolete. So, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 114: “A lustie maide, a sobre, a meke, “Fulfilled of all curtosie.” Again: “Fulfilled of all unkindship.” Steevens. To be “fulfilled with grace and benediction” is still the language of our liturgy. Blackstone.

Note return to page 394 5Sperr up the sons of Troy.] [Old copy—Stirre.] This has been a most miserably mangled passage throughout all the editions; corrupted at once into false concord and false reasoning. Priam's “six-gated city stirre up the sons of Troy?” Here's a verb plural governed of a nominative singular. But that is easily remedied. The next question to be asked is, In what sense a city, having six strong gates, and those well barred and bolted, can be said to stir up its inhabitants? unless they may be supposed to derive some spirit from the strength of their fortifications. But this could not be the poet's thought. He must mean, I take it, that the Greeks had pitched their tents upon the plains before Troy; and that the Trojans were securely barricaded within the walls and gates of their city. This sense my correction restores. To sperre, or spar, from the old Teutonick word Speren, signifies to shut up, defend by bars, &c. Theobald. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book v. c. 10: “The other that was entred, labour'd fast “To sperre the gate,” &c. Again, in the romance of The Squhr of Low Degre: “Sperde with manie a dyvers pynne.” And in The Vision of P. Plowman, it is said that a blind man “unsparryd his eine.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, book ii. ch. 12: “When chased home into his holdes, there sparred up in gates.” Again, in the 2d Part of Bale's Actes of English Votaryes: “The dore thereof oft tymes opened and speared agayne.” Steevens. Mr. Theobald informs us that the very names of the gates of Troy have been barbarously demolished by the editors; and a deal of learned dust he makes in setting them right again; much however to Mr. Heath's satisfaction. Indeed the learning is modestly withdrawn from the later editions, and we are quietly instructed to read— “Dardan, and Thymbria, Ilia, Scæa, Trojan, “And Antenorides.” But had he looked into the Troy Boke of Lydgate, instead of puzzling himself with Dares Phrygius, he would have found the horrid demolition to have been neither the work of Shakspeare, nor his editors: “Therto his cyte compassed enuyrowne “Had gates VI to entre into the towne: “The firste of all and strengest eke with all, “Largest also and moste princypall, “Of myghty byldyng alone pereless, “Was by the kinge called Dardanydes; “And in storye lyke as it is founde, “Tymbria was named the seconde; “And the thyrde called Helyas, “The fourthe gate hyghte also Cetheas; “The fyfthe Trojana, the syxth Anthonydes, “Stronge and mighty both in werre and pes. Lond. Empr. by R. Pynson, 1513, fol. b. ii. ch. 11. The Troye Boke was somewhat modernized, and reduced into regular stanzas, about the beginning of the last century, under the name of, “The Life and Death of Hector—who fought a Hundred mayne Battailes in open Field against the Grecians; wherein there were slaine on both Sides Fourteene Hundred and Sixe Thousand, Fourscore and Sixe Men.” Fol. no date. This work, Dr. Fuller, and several other criticks, have erroneously quoted as the original; and observe, in consequence, that “if Chaucer's coin were of greater weight for deeper learning, Lydgate's were of a more refined standard for purer language: so that one might mistake him for a modern writer.” Farmer. On other occasions, in the course of this play, I shall generally insert quotations from the Troye Booke Modernized, as being the most intelligible of the two. Steevens.

Note return to page 395 6A prologue arm'd,] I come here to speak the prologue, and come in armour: not defying the audience, in confidence of either the author's or actor's abilities, but merely in a character suited to the subject, in a dress of war, before a warlike play. Johnson. Motteux seems to have borrowed this idea in his Prologue to Farquhar's Twin Rivals: “With drums and trumpets in this warring age, “A martial prologue should alarm the stage.” Steevens.

Note return to page 396 7&lblank; the vaunt &lblank;] i. e. the avant, what went before. So, in King Lear: “Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts.” Steevens. The vaunt is the vanguard, called, in our author's time, the vaunt-guard. Percy.

Note return to page 397 8&lblank; firstlings &lblank; A scriptural phrase, signifying the first produce or offspring. So, in Genesis, iv. 4: “And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock.” Steevens.

Note return to page 398 1&lblank; my varlet,] This word anciently signified a servant or footman to a knight or warrior. So, Holinshed, speaking of the battle of Agincourt: “&lblank; diverse were releeved by their varlets, and conveied out of the field.” Again, in an ancient epitaph in the church-yard of Saint Nicas at Arras: “Cy gist Hakin et son varlet, “Tout dis-armè et tout di-pret, “Avec son espé et salloche,” &c. Steevens. Concerning the word varlet, see Recherches Historiques Sur Les Cartes à Jouer. Lyon, 1757, p. 61. M. C. Tutet.

Note return to page 399 2Will this geer ne'er be mended?] There is somewhat proverbial in this question, which I likewise meet with in the interlude of King Darius, 1565: “Wyll not yet this geere be amended, “Nor your sinful acts corrected?” Steevens.

Note return to page 400 3&lblank; skilful to their strength, &c.] i. e. in addition to their strength. The same phraseology occurs in Macbeth, Act I. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 401 4&lblank; fonder &lblank;] i. e. more weak, or foolish. Malone.

Note return to page 402 5And skill-less, &c.] Mr. Dryden, in his alteration of this play, has taken this speech as it stands, except that he has changed skill-less to artless, not for the better, because skill-less refers to skill and skilful. Johnson.

Note return to page 403 6Doth lesser blench &lblank;] To blench is to shrink, start, or fly off. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; if he but blench, “I know my course &lblank;.” Again, in The Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “&lblank; men that will not totter, “Nor blench much at a bullet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 7&lblank; when she comes!—When is she thence?] Both the old copies read—then she comes, when she is thence. Mr. Rowe corrected the former error, and Mr. Pope the latter. Malone.

Note return to page 405 8&lblank; a storm,)] Old copies—a scorn. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. See King Lear, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 406 9&lblank; in wrinkle of a smile:] So, in Twelfth-Night: “He doth smile his face into more lines than the new map with the augmentation of the Indies.” Malone. Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.” Steevens.

Note return to page 407 1Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, &c.] Handlest is here used metaphorically, with an allusion, at the same time, to its literal meaning; and the jingle between hand and handlest is perfectly in our author's manner. The beauty of a female hand seems to have made a strong impression on his mind. Antony cannot endure that the hand of Cleopatra should be touched: “&lblank; To let a fellow that will take rewards, “And say, God quit you, be familiar with “My playfellow, your hand,—this kingly seal, “And plighter of high hearts.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; they may seize “On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand.” In the Winter's Tale, Florizel, with equal warmth, and not less poetically, descants on the hand of his mistress: “&lblank; I take thy hand; this hand “As soft as dove's down, and as white as it; “Or Ethiopian's tooth; or the fann'd snow “That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er.” This passage has, I think, been wrong pointed in the late editions: “Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart “Her eyes, her air, her cheek, her gait; her voice “Handlest in thy discourse;—O that her hand! “In whose comparison,” &c. We have the same play of words in Titus Andronicus: “O handle not the theme, to talk of hands, “Lest we remember still, that we have none!” Malone. If the derivation of the verb to handle were always present to those who employed it, I know not well how Chapman could vindicate the following passage in his version of the 23d Iliad, where the most eloquent of the Greeks (old Nestor) reminds Antilochus that his horses “&lblank; their slow feet handle not.” The intentionally quaint phrase—“taste your legs,” introduced in Twelfth-Night, is not more ridiculous than to talk of horses— “handling their feet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 408 2&lblank; and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman!] In comparison with Cressida's hand, says he, the spirit of sense, the utmost degree, the most exquisite power of sensibility, which implies a soft hand, since the sense of touching, as Scaliger says in his Exercitations, resides chiefly in the fingers, is hard as the callous and insensible palm of the ploughman. Warburton reads: “&lblank; spite of sense.” Hanmer: “&lblank; to th' spirit of sense.” It is not proper to make a lover profess to praise his mistress in spite of sense; for though he often does it in spite of the sense of others, his own senses are subdued to his desires. Johnson. Spirit of sense is a phrase that occurs again in the third Act of this play: “&lblank; nor doth the eye itself, “That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself. Mr. M. Mason (from whom I have borrowed this parallel) recommends Hanmer's emendation as a necessary one. Steevens.

Note return to page 409 3&lblank; she has the mends in her own hands &lblank;] She may mend her complexion by the assistance of cosmeticks. Johnson. I believe it rather means—‘She may make the best of a bad bargain.’ This is a proverbial saying. So, in Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “I shall stay here and have my head broke, and then I have the mends in my own hands.” Again, in S. Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “&lblank; turne him with his back full of stripes, and his hands loden with his own amendes.” Again, in The Wild Goose Chase, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “The mends are in mine own hands, or the surgeon's.” Again, in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 605: “&lblank; and if men will be jealous in such cases, the mends is in their owne hands, they must thank themselves.” Steevens.

Note return to page 410 4&lblank; to stay behind her father;] Calchas, according to Shakspeare's authority, The Destruction of Troy, was “a great learned bishop of Troy.” who was sent by Priam to consult the oracle of Delphi concerning the event of the war which was threatened by Agamemnon. As soon as he had made “his oblations and demaunds for them of Troy, Apollo (says the book) aunswered unto him, saying; Calchas, Calchas, beware that thou returne not back again to Troy; but goe thou with Achylles, unto the Greekes, and depart never from them, for the Greekes shall have victorie of the Troyans by the agreement of the Gods.” Hist. of the Destruction of Troy, translated by Caxton, 5th edit. 4to. 1617. This prudent bishop followed the advice of the Oracle, and immediately joined the Greeks. Malone.

Note return to page 411 5&lblank; Ilium,] Was the palace of Troy. Johnson. Ilium, properly speaking, is the name of the city; Troy, that of the country. Steevens.

Note return to page 412 6&lblank; this sailing Pandar, Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “This punk is one of Cupid's carriers; “Clap on more sails,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 413 7How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?] Shakspeare, it appears from various lines in this play, pronounced Troilus improperly as a dissyllable; as every mere English reader does at this day. So also, in his Rape of Luerece: “Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds.” It was not so pronounced by Shakspeare alone, or his contemporaries, as Gascoigne: “And say, as Troylus said, since that I can no more &lblank;.” But the same error is found in Pope's translation of Homer's Iliad b. xxiv. line 321–22: “Nestor the brave, renown'd in ranks of war, “And Troilus dreadful on his rushing car.” Malone.

Note return to page 414 8&lblank; sorts,] i. e. fits, suits, is congruous. So, in King Henry V.: “It sorts well with thy fierceness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 9&lblank; Hector, whose patience Is, as a virtue, fix'd,] Patience sure was a virtue, and therefore cannot, in propriety of expression, be said to be like one. We should read: “Is as the virtue fix'd &lblank;” i. e. his patience is as fixed as the goddess Patience itself. So we find Troilus a little before saying: “Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, “Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.” It is remarkable that Dryden when he altered this play, and found this false reading, altered it with judgment to— “&lblank; whose patience “Is fix'd like that of heaven.” Which he would not have done had he seen the right reading here given, where his thought is so much better and nobler expressed. Warburton. I think the present text may stand. Hector's patience was as a virtue, not variable and accidental, but fixed and constant. If I would alter it, it should be thus: “&lblank; Hector, whose patience “Is all a virtue fix'd,— All, in old English, is the intensive or enforcing particle. Johnson. I had once almost persuaded myself that Shakspeare wrote, “&lblank; whose patience “Is, as a statue fix'd.” So, in The Winter's Tale, sc. ult.: “The statue is but newly fix'd.” The same idea occurs also in the celebrated passage in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; sat like patience on a monument.” The old adage—Patience is a virtue, was perhaps uppermost in the compositor's mind, and he therefore inadvertently substituted the one word for the other. A virtue fixed may, however, mean the stationary image of a virtue. Steevens.

Note return to page 416 1&lblank; husbandry in war,] So, in Macbeth: “There's husbandry in heaven.” Steevens. Husbandry means economical prudence. Troilus alludes to Hector's early rising. So, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; our bad neighbours make us early stirrers, “Which is both healthful and good husbandry.” Malone.

Note return to page 417 2Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light,] “Does the poet mean (says Mr. Theobald) that Hector had put on light armour?” Mean! what else could he mean? He goes to fight on foot; and was not that the armour for his purpose? So, Fairfax, in Tasso's Jerusalem: “The other princes put on harness light “As footmen use &lblank;.” Yet, as if this had been the highest absurdity, he goes on, “Or does he mean that Hector was sprightly in his arms even before sunrise? or is a conundrum aimed at, in sun rose and harness'd light?” Was any thing like it? But, to get out of this perplexity, he tells us, that “a very slight alteration makes all these constructions unnecessary,” and so changes it to harness-dight. Yet indeed the very slightest alteration will, at any time, let the poet's sense though the critick's fingers: and the Oxford editor very contentedly take up what is left behind, and reads harness-dight too, in order, as Mr. Theobald well expresses it, “to make all construction unnecessary.” Warburton. How does it appear that Hector was to fight on foot rather today than any other day? It is to be remembered, that the ancient heroes never fought on horseback; nor does their manner of fighting in chariots seem to require less activity than on foot. Johnson. It is true that the heroes of Homer never fought on horseback; yet such of them as make a second appearance in the Æneid, like their antagonists the Rutulians, had cavalry among their troops. Little can be inferred from the manner in which Ascanius and the young nobility of Troy are introduced at the conclusion of the funereal games; as Virgil very probably, at the expence of an anachronism, meant to pay a compliment to the military exercises instituted by Julius Cæsar, and improved by Augustus. It appears from different passages in this play, that Hector fights on horseback; and it should be remembered that Shakspeare was indebted for most of his materials to a book which enumerates Esdras and Pythagoras among the bastard children of King Priamus. Our author, however, might have been led into his mistake by the manner in which Chapman has translated several parts of the Iliad, where the heroes mount their chariots or descend from them. Thus, book vi. speaking of Glaucus and Diomed: “&lblank; from horse then both descend.” Steevens. If Dr. Warburton had looked into The Destruction of Troy, already quoted, he would have found, in every page, that the leaders on each side were alternately tumbled from their horses by the prowess of their adversaries. Malone. I am afraid that the charge, whatever it may amount to, of neglecting the information to be found in the old Destruction of Troy, must fall rather upon Johnson than Warburton. Boswell.

Note return to page 418 3&lblank; where every flower Did, as a prophet, weep &lblank;] So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, vol. v. p. 257: “And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, “Lamenting,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 419 4&lblank; per se,] So, in Chaucer's Testament of Cresseide: “Of faire Cresseide the floure and a per se “Of Troi and Greece.” Again, in the old comedy of Wily Beguiled: “In faith, my sweet honeycomb, I'll love thee a per se a.” Again in Blurt Master Constable, 1602: “That is the a per se of all, the creame of all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 5&lblank; their particular additions;] Their peculiar and characteristic qualities or denominations. The term in this sense is originally forensick. Malone. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; whereby he doth receive “Particular addition, from the bill “That writes them all alike.” Steevens.

Note return to page 421 6&lblank; that his valour is crushed into folly,] To be crushed into folly, is to be confused and mingled with folly, so as that they make one mass together. Johnson. So, in Cymbeline: “Crush him together, rather than unfold “His measure duly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 422 7&lblank; against the hair:] Is a phrase equivalent to another now in use—against the grain. The French say—à contrepoil. Steevens.

Note return to page 423 8Good morning, cousin Cressid: What do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander.—How do you, cousin?] Good morrow, Alexander, is added, in all the editions, (says Mr. Pope,) very absurdedly, Paris not being on the stage. Wonderful acuteness! But, with submission, this gentleman's note is much more absurd; for it falls out very unluckily for his remark, that though Paris is, for the generality, in Homer called Alexander; yet, in this play, by any one of the characters introduced, he is called nothing but Paris. The truth of the fact is this: Pandarus is of a busy, impertinent, insinuating character; and it is natural for him, so soon as he has given his cousin the good-morrow, to pay his civilities too to her attendant. This is purely &gres;&grn; &grhsa;&grq;&gre;&gri;, as the grammarians call it; and gives us an admirable touch of Pandarus's character. And why might not Alexander be the name of Cressida's man? Paris had no patent, I suppose, for engrossing it to himself. But the late editor, perhaps, because we have had Alexander the Great, Pope Alexander, and Alexander Pope, would not have so eminent a name prostituted to a common varlet. Theobald. This note is not preserved on account of any intelligence it brings but as a curious speciment specimen of Mr. Theobald's mode of animadversion on the remarks of Mr. Pope. Steevens.

Note return to page 424 9&lblank; at Ilium?] Ilium, or Ilion, (for it is spelt both ways,) was, according to Lydgate, and the author of The Destruction of Troy, the name of Priam's palace, which is said by these writers to have been built upon a high rock. See a note in Act IV. Sc. V. on the words—“Yon towers,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 425 1Well, the gods are above;] So, in Othello: “Heaven's above all.” Malone.

Note return to page 426 2&lblank; his wit &lblank;] Both the old copies have—will. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 427 3&lblank; a merry Greek,] Græcari, among the Romans, signified to play the reveller. Steevens. The expression occurs in many old English books. See Act IV. Sc. IV.: “A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks.” Malone.

Note return to page 428 4&lblank; compassed window.] The compassed window is the same as the bow window. Johnson. A compassed window is a circular bow window. In The Taming of the Shrew the same epithet is applied to the cape of a woman's gown: “&lblank; a small compassed cape.” Steevens. A coved ceiling is yet in some places called a compassed ceiling. Malone.

Note return to page 429 5&lblank; so old a lifter?] The word lifter is used for a thief, by Greene, in his Art of Coneycatching, printed 1591: on this the humour of the passage may be supposed to turn. We still call a person who plunders shops, a shop-lifter. Ben Jonson uses the expression in Cynthia's Revels: “One other peculiar virtue you possess is, lifting.” Again, in The Roaring Girl, 1611: “&lblank; cheaters, lifters, nips, foists, puggards, courbers.” Again, in Holland's Leaguer, 1633: “Broker or pandar, cheater or lifter.” Steevens. Liftus, in the Gothick language, signifies a thief. See Archælog. vol. v. p. 311. Blackstone.

Note return to page 430 6&lblank; her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones.] So, in King Richard III.: “Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes drop tears.” Malone.

Note return to page 431 7One and fifty hairs,] [Old copies—Two and fifty.] I have ventured to substitute—One and fifty, I think with some certainty. How else can the number make out Priam and his fifty sons? Theobald.

Note return to page 432 8&lblank; that it passed.] i. e. that it went beyond bounds. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Why this passes, master Ford.” Cressida plays on the word, as used by Pandarus, by employing it herself in its common acceptation. Steevens.

Note return to page 433 9&lblank; an 'twere a man born in April.] i. e. as if 'twere, &c. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.” The foregoing thought occurs also in Antony and Cleopatra: “The April's in her eyes: it is love's spring, “And these the showers to bring it on.” Steevens.

Note return to page 434 1That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit,] “Anthenor was &lblank; “Copious in words, and one that much time spent     “To jest, when as he was in companie,     “So driely, that no man could it espie; “And therewith held his countenaunce so well,   “That every man received great content “To heare him speake, and pretty jests to tell,   “When he was pleasant, and in merriment:     “For tho' that he most commonly was sad,     “Yet in his speech some jest he always had.” Lydgate, p. 105. Such, in the hands of a rude English poet, is the grave Antenor, to whose wisdom it was thought necessary that the art of Ulysses should be opposed: Et moveo Priamum, Priamoque Antenora junctum. Steevens.

Note return to page 435 *First folio, judgment.

Note return to page 436 2&lblank; the rich shall have more.] The allusion is to the word noddy, which, as now, did, in our author's time, and long before, signify a silly fellow, and may, by its etymology, signify likewise full of nods. Cressid means, that a noddy shall have more nods. Of such remarks as these is a comment to consist! Johnson. To give the nod, was, I believe, a term in the game at cards called Noddy. This game is perpetually alluded to in the old comedies. Steevens.

Note return to page 437 3&lblank; how his sword is bloodied,] So, Lydgate, describing Troilus, in a couplet that reminds us of Dryden, or Pope: “He was so ferse they might him not withstand, “When that he helde his blody sworde in hand.” I always quote from the original poem, edit. 1555. Malone.

Note return to page 438 4&lblank; his helm more hack'd than Hector's;] So, in Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, book iii. 640: “His helme to hewin was in twenty places,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 439 5&lblank; an eye to boot.] So, the quarto. The folio, with less force,—Give money to boot. Johnson.

Note return to page 440 6&lblank; no date in the pye,] To account for the introduction of this quibble, it should be remembered that dates were an ingredient in ancient pastry of almost every kind. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act I.: “&lblank; your date is better in your pye and porridge, than in your cheek.” Steevens.

Note return to page 441 7&lblank; at what ward you lie.] A metaphor from the art of defence. So, Falstaff, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “Thou know'st my old ward; here I lay,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 442 8&lblank; upon my wit, to defend my wiles;] So read both the copies: and yet perhaps the author wrote: “Upon my wit to defend my will.” The terms wit and will were, in the language of that time, put often in opposition. Johnson. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “What wit sets down, is blotted straight with will.” Again, in King Richard II.: “Where will doth mutiny with wits regard.” Yet I think the old copy right. Malone.

Note return to page 443 9At your own house; there he unarms him.] These necessary words are added from the quarto edition. Pope. The words added are only—there he unarms him. Johnson.

Note return to page 444 1&lblank; joy's soul lies in the doing:] So read both the old editions, for which the later editions have poorly given: “The soul's joy lies in doing.” Johnson. It is the reading of the second folio. Ritson. “Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: “Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing:” This is the reading of all the editions; yet it must be erroneous; for the last six words of the passage are totally inconsistent with the rest of Cressida's speech, and the very reverse of the doctrine she professes to teach. I have, therefore, no doubt, that we ought to read: &lblank; joy's soul dies in the doing: which means, that the fire of passion is extinguished by enjoyment. The following six lines sufficiently confirm the propriety of this amendment, which is obtained by the change of a single letter: That she belov'd, &c. &c. M. Mason.

Note return to page 445 2That she &lblank;] Means, that woman. Johnson.

Note return to page 446 3Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech:] The meaning of this obscure line seems to be—“Men, after possession, become our commanders; before it, they are our suppliants.” Steevens.

Note return to page 447 4Then though &lblank;] The quarto reads—Then; the folio and the other modern editions read improperly—That. Johnson

Note return to page 448 5&lblank; my heart's content &lblank;] Content, for capacity. Warburton. On considering the context, it appears to me that we ought to read—“my heart's consent,” not content. M. Mason. “&lblank; my heart's content.” Perhaps means, my heart's satisfaction or joy; my well pleased heart. So, in our author's Dedication of his Venus and Adonis to Lord Southampton: “I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content.” This is the reading of the quarto. The folio has— contents. Malone. My heart's content, I believe, signifies—the acquiescence of my heart. Steevens.

Note return to page 449 *Quarto, And call them shames.

Note return to page 450 6&lblank; affin'd &lblank;] i. e. joined by affinity. The same adjective occurs in Othello: “If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office.” Steevens.

Note return to page 451 7&lblank; broad &lblank;] So the quarto. The folio reads—loud. Johnson.

Note return to page 452 8With due observance of thy godlike seat,] Goodly [the reading of the folio] is an epithet that carries no very great compliment with it; and Nestor seems here to be paying deference to Agamemnon's state and pre-eminence. The old books [the quartos] have it—to thy godly seat: godlike, as I have reformed the text, seems to me the epithet designed; and is very conformable to what Æneas afterwards says of Agamemnon: “Which is that god in office, guiding men?” So godlike seat is here, ‘state supreme above all other commanders.’ Theobald. This emendation Theobald might have found in the quarto, which has—the godlike seat. Johnson. “&lblank; thy godlike seat.” The throne in which thou sittest, “like a descended god.” Malone.

Note return to page 453 9&lblank; Nestor shall apply Thy latest words.] Nestor applies the words to another instance. Johnson. Perhaps Nestor means, that he will attend particularly to, and consider, Agamemnon's latest words. So, in an ancient interlude, entitled, The Nice Wanton, 1560: “O ye children, let your time be well spent; “Applye your learning, and your elders obey.” Malone.

Note return to page 454 1&lblank; patient breast,] The quarto, not so well—ancient breast. Johnson.

Note return to page 455 2With those of nobler bulk?] Statius has the same thought, though more diffusively expressed: Sic ubi magna novum Phario de littore puppis Solvit iter, jamque innumeros utrinque rudentes Lataque veliferi porrexit brachia mali, Invasitque vias; it eodem angusta phaselus Æquore, et immensi partem sibi vendicat austri. Again, in The Sylvæ of the same author, Lib. I. iv. 120: &lblank; immensæ veluti connexa carinæ Cymba minor, cum sævit hyems— &lblank; et eodem volvitur austro. Mr. Pope has imitated the passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 456 3But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The gentle Thetis,] So, in Lord Cromwell, 1602: “When I have seen Boreas begin to play the ruffian with us, then would I down on my knees.” Malone.

Note return to page 457 4Bounding between the two moist elements, Like Perseus' horse:] Mercury, according to the fable, presented Perseus with talaria, but we no where hear of his horse. The only flying horse of antiquity was Pegasus; and he was the property, not of Perseus, but Bellerophon. But our poet followed a more modern fabulist, the author of The Destruction of Troy, a book which furnished him with some other circumstances of this play. Of the horse alluded to in the text he found in that book the following account: “Of the blood that issued out [from Medusa's head] there engendered Pegasus, or the flying horse. By the flying horse that was engendered of the blood issued from her head, is understood, that of her riches issuing of that realme he [Perseus] founded and made a ship named Pegase,—and this ship was likened unto an horse flying,” &c. Again: “By this fashion Perseus conquered the head of Medusa, and did make Pegase, the most swift ship that was in all the world.” In another place the same writer assures us, that this ship, which he always calls Perseus' flying horse, “flew on the sea like unto a bird.” Dest. of Troy, 4to. 1617, p. 155–164. Malone. The foregoing note is a very curious one; and yet our author perhaps would not have contented himself with merely comparing one ship to another. Unallegorized Pegasus might be fairly styled Perseus' horse, because the heroism of Perseus had given him existence. So, in the fable of The Hors, the Shepe, and the Ghoos, printed by Caxton: “The stede of perseus was cleped pigase “With swifte wynges,” &c. Whereas, ibid. a ship is called “&lblank; an hors of tre.” See University Library, Cambridge, D. 5. 42. Steevens.

Note return to page 458 5&lblank; by the brize,] The brize is the gad or horse-fly. So, in Monsieur Thomas, 1639: “&lblank; Have ye got the brize there? “Give me the holy sprinkle.” Again, in Vittoria Corombona, or The White Devil, 1612: “I will put brize in his tail, set him a gadding presently.” See note on Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. VIII. Steevens.

Note return to page 459 6And flies fled under shade,] i. e. And flies are fled under shade. I have observed similar omissions in the works of many of our author's contemporaries. Malone.

Note return to page 460 7&lblank; the thing of courage,] It is said of the tiger, that in storms and high winds he rages and roars most furiously. Hanmer.

Note return to page 461 8Returns to chiding fortune.] For returns, Hanmer reads replies, unnecessarily, the sense being the same. The folio and quarto have retires, corruptly. Johnson. So, in King Richard II.: “Northumberland, say—thus the king returns &lblank;.” Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Chiding is noisy, clamorous. So, in King Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. II.: “As doth a rock against the chiding flood.” Malone. See also vol. v. p. 297. Steevens.

Note return to page 462 9&lblank; axletree &lblank;] This word was anciently contracted into a dissyllable. Thus in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca: “&lblank; when the mountain “Melts under their hot wheels, and from their ax'trees “Huge claps of thunder plough the ground before them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 463 1&lblank; speeches,—which were such, As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece Should hold up high in brass; and such again, As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, Should with a bond of air &lblank; &lblank; knit all the Greekish ears To his experienc'd tongue,] Ulysses begins his oration with praising those who had spoken before him, and marks the characteristick excellencies of their different eloquence,—strength, and sweetness, which he expresses by the different metals on which he recommends them to be engraven for the instruction of posterity. The speech of Agamemnon is such that it ought to be engraven in brass, and the tablet held up by him on the one side, and Greece on the other, to show the union of their opinion. And Nestor ought to be exhibited in silver, uniting all his audience in one mind by his soft and gentle elocution. Brass is the common emblem of strength, and silver of gentleness. We call a soft voice a silver voice, and a persuasive tongue a silver tongue. I once read for hand, the band of Greece, but I think the text right. To hatch is a term of art for a particular method of engraving. Hacher, to cut, Fr. Johnson. In the description of Agamemnon's speech, there is a plain allusion to the old custom of engraving laws and publick records in brass, and hanging up the tables in temples, and other places of general resort. Our author has the same allusion in Measure for Measure, Act V. Sc. I. The Duke, speaking of the merit of Angelo and Escalus, says, that “&lblank; it deserves with characters of brass “A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time “And razure of oblivion &lblank;.” So far therefore is clear. Why Nestor is said to be hatch'd in silver, is much more obscure. I once thought that we ought to read,—thatch'd in silver, alluding to his silver hair; the same metaphor being used by Timon, Act IV. Sc. IV. to Phryne and Timandra: “&lblank; thatch your poor thin roofs “With burthens of the dead &lblank;.” But know not whether the present reading may not be understood to convey the same allusion; as I find, that the species of engraving, called hatching, was particularly used in the hilts of swords. See Cotgrave in v. Haché; hacked, &c. also, Hatched, as the hilt of a sword; and in v. Hacher; to hacke, &c. also to hatch a hilt. Beaumont and Fletcher's Custom of the Country, vol. ii. p. 90: “When thine own bloody sword cried out against thee, “Hatch'd in the life of him &lblank;.” As to what follows, if the reader should have no more conception than I have, of “&lblank; a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree “On which heaven rides &lblank;” he will perhaps excuse me for hazarding a conjecture, that the true reading may possibly be: “&lblank; a bond of awe &lblank;” The expression is used by Fairfax, in his 4th Eclogue, Muses Library, p. 368: “Unty these bonds of awe and cords of duty.” After all, the construction of this passage is very harsh and irregular; but with that I meddle not, believing it was left so by the author. Tyrwhitt. Perhaps no alteration is necessary: hatch'd in silver, may mean, “whose white hair and beard make him look like a figure engraved on silver.” The word is metaphorically used by Heywood, in The Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; his face “Is hatch'd with impudency three-fold thick.” And again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Humorous Lieutenant: “His weapon hatch'd in blood.” Again, literally, in The Two Merry Milkmaids, 1620: “Double and treble gilt,— “Hatch'd and inlaid, not to be worn with time.” Again, more appositely, in Love in a Maze, 1632: “Thy hair is fine as gold, thy chin is hatch'd “With silver &lblank;.” Again, in Chapman's version of the 23d Iliad: “Shall win this sword, silver'd and hatch'd &lblank;.” The voice of Nestor, which on all occasions enforced attention, might be, I think, not unpoetically called, a bond of air, because its operations were visible, though his voice, like the wind, was unseen. Steevens. In a newspaper of the day, intitled The Newes published for Satisfaction and Information of the People, Nov. 12, 1663, No. XI. p. 86, is advertized, “Lost, in Scotland Yard, a broad sword hatcht with silver.” Reed. The following passage in Fanshawe's translation of the Pastor Fido seems to prove that hatched sometimes meant coloured: “Nor ist your study how to pay true love— “But how your silver hair with gold to hatch.” The original is “Ma tinger d'oro un insensata chioma.” Pastor Fido, Act I. Sc. V. Boswell. In the following verses in our author's Rape of Lucrece, nearly the same picture of Nestor is given. The fifth line of the first stanza may lead us to the true interpretation of the words hatch'd in silver. In a subsequent passage the colour of the old man's beard is again mentioned: “I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver.” Dr. Johnson therefore is undoubtedly mistaken in supposing that there is any allusion to the soft voice or silver tongue of Nestor. With respect to the breath or speech of Nestor, here called a bond of air, it is so truly Shakspearian, that I have not the smallest doubt of the genuineness of the expression. Shakspeare frequently calls words wind and air. So, in one of his poems: “&lblank; sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Three civil broils, bred of an airy word.” Again, more appositely, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Charm ache with air, and agony with words.” The verses above alluded to are these: “There pleading you might see grave Nestor stand, “As 'twere encouraging the Greeks to fight; “Making such sober action with his hand, “That it beguil'd attention, charm'd the sight; “In speech it seem'd, his beard all silver white “Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly “Thin winding breath, which purl'd up to the sky. “About him were a press of gaping faces, “Which seem'd to swallow up his sound advice, “All jointly list'ning but with several graces, “As if some mermaid did their ears entice; “Some high, some low; the painter was so nice, “The scalps of many almost hid behind “To jump up higher seem'd, to mock the mind.” What is here called ‘speech that beguil'd attention,’ is in the text a bond of air; i. e. breath, or words that strongly enforced the attention of his auditors. In the same poem we find a kindred expression: “Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame, “Will tie the hearers to attend each line.” Again, more appositely, in Drayton's Mortimeriados, 4to. no date: “Torlton, whose tongue men's ears in chains could bind.” The word knit, which alone remains to be noticed, is often used by Shakspeare in the same manner. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; to the which my duties “Are with a most indissoluble tie “For ever knit.” Again, in Othello: “I have profess'd me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness.” A passage in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, may illustrate that before us: “Whether now persuasions may not be said violent and forcible, especially to simple myndes, in special I refer to all men's judgement that hear the story. At least waies I finde this opinion confirmed by a pretie devise or embleme that Lucianus alleageth he saw in the portrait of Hercules within the citie of Marseilles in Provence; where they had figured a lustie old man with a long chayne tyed by one end at his tong, by the other end at the people's eares, who stood afar off, and seemed to be drawen to him by force of that chayne fastened to his tong; as who would say, by force of his persuasions.” Malone. Thus, in Chapman's version of the 13th Odyssey: “He said; and silence all their tongues contain'd “(In admiration) when with pleasure chain'd “Their ears had long been to him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 2Thou great,—and wise,] This passage is sense as it stands; yet I have little doubt that Shakspeare wrote— Though great and wise &lblank;. M. Mason.

Note return to page 465 3Agam. Speak, &c.] This speech is not in the quarto. Johnson.

Note return to page 466 4&lblank; expect &lblank;] Expect for expectation. Thus, in our author's works, we have suspect for suspicion, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 467 5&lblank; Hector's sword had lack'd a master,] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; gains, or loses, “Your sword, or mine; or masterless leaves both &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 468 6The specialty of rule &lblank;] The particular rights of supreme authority. Johnson.

Note return to page 469 7Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.] The word hollow, at the beginning of the line, injures the metre, without improving the sense, and should probably be struck out. M. Mason. I would rather omit the word in the second instance. To stand empty, (hollow, as Shakspeare calls it,) is a provincial phrase applied to houses which have no tenants. These factions, however, were avowed, not hollow, or insidious. Remove the word hollow, at the beginning of the verse, and every tent in sight would become chargeable as the quondam residence of a factious chief; for the plain sense must then be—there are as many hollow factions as there are tents. Steevens.

Note return to page 470 8When that the general is not like the hive,] The meaning is,—When the general is not to the army like the hive to the bees, the repository of the stock of every individual, that to which each particular resorts with whatever he has collected for the good of the whole, what honey is expected? what hope of advantage? The sense is clear, the expression is confused. Johnson.

Note return to page 471 9The heavens themselves,] This illustration was probably derived from a passage in Hooker: “If celestial spheres should forget their wonted motion; if the prince of the lights of heaven should begin to stand; if the moon should wander from her beaten way; and the seasons of the year blend themselves; what would become of man?” Warburton.

Note return to page 472 1&lblank; the planets, and this center,] i. e. the center of the earth, which, according to the Ptolemaic system, then in vogue, is the center of the solar system. Warburton. By this center, Ulysses means the earth itself, not the center of the earth. According to the system of Ptolemy, the earth is the center round which the planets move. M. Mason.

Note return to page 473 2Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,] So, the folio. The quarto reads: “Corrects th' influence of evil planets.” Malone.

Note return to page 474 3&lblank; But, when the planets, In evil mixture, to disorder wander, &c.] I believe the poet, according to astrological opinions, means, when the planets form malignant configurations, when their aspects are evil towards one another. This he terms evil mixture. Johnson. The poet's meaning may be somewhat explained by Spenser, to whom he seems to be indebted for his present allusion:   “For who so liste into the heavens looke,   “And search the courses of the rowling spheres,   “Shall find that from the point where they first tooke   “Their setting forth, in these few thousand yeares   “They all are wandred much; that plaine appeares.   “For that same golden fleecy ram, which bore   “Phrixus and Helle from their stepdames feares,   “Hath now forgot where he was plast of yore, “And shouldred hath the bull which fayre Europa bore.   “And eke the bull hath with his bow-bent horne   “So hardly butted those two twins of Jove,   “That they have crush'd the crab, and quite him borne   “Into the great Nemæan lion's grove.   “So now all range, and do at random rove   “Out of their proper places far away,   “And all this world with them amisse doe move,   “And all his creatures from their course astray, “Till they arrive at their last ruinous decay.” Fairy Queen, b. v. c. i. Steevens. The apparent irregular motions of the planets were supposed to portend some disasters to mankind; indeed the planets themselves were not thought formerly to be confined in any fixed orbits of their own, but to wander about ad libitum, as the etymology of their names demonstrates. Anonymous.

Note return to page 475 4&lblank; deracinate &lblank;] i. e. force up by the roots. So again, in King Henry V.: “&lblank; the coulter rusts “That should deracinate such savag'ry.” Steevens.

Note return to page 476 5&lblank; married calm of states &lblank;] The epithet—married, which is used to denote an intimate union, is employed in the same sense by Milton: “&lblank; Lydian airs “Married to immortal verse.” Again: “&lblank; voice and verse “Wed your divine sounds.” Again, in Sylvester's translation of Du Bartas's Eden: “&lblank; shady groves of noble palm-tree sprays, “Of amorous myrtles and immortal bays; “Never unleav'd, but evermore they're new, “Self-arching, in a thousand arbours grew. “Birds marrying their sweet tunes to the angels' lays, “Sung Adam's bliss, and their great Maker's praise.” The subject of Milton's larger poem would naturally have led him to read this description in Sylvester. The quotation from him I owe to Dr. Farmer. Shakspeare calls a harmony of features, married lineaments, in Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. III. p. 39. See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 477 6&lblank; O, when degree is shak'd,] I would read: &lblank; So, when degree is shak'd. Johnson.

Note return to page 478 7The enterprize &lblank;] Perhaps we should read: Then enterprize is sick!— Johnson.

Note return to page 479 8&lblank; brotherhoods in cities,] Corporations, companies, confraternities. Johnson.

Note return to page 480 9&lblank; dividable shores,] i. e. divided. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, our author uses corrigible for corrected. Mr. M. Mason has the same observation. Steevens.

Note return to page 481 1&lblank; mere oppugnancy:] Mere is absolute. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; things rank and gross in nature “Possess it merely.” Steevens.

Note return to page 482 2And make a sop of all this solid globe:] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine of you.” Steevens. In a former speech a boat is said to be made a toast for Neptune. Blakeway.

Note return to page 483 3&lblank; this neglection &lblank;] This uncommon word occurs again in Pericles, 1609: “&lblank; if neglection “Should therein make me vile &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 484 4That by a pace &lblank;] That goes backward step by step. Johnson.

Note return to page 485 5&lblank; with a purpose It hath to climb.] With a design in each man to aggrandize himself, by slighting his immediate superior. Johnson. Thus the quarto. Folio—in a purpose. Malone.

Note return to page 486 6&lblank; bloodless emulation:] An emulation not vigorous and active, but malignant and sluggish. Johnson.

Note return to page 487 7&lblank; our power &lblank;] i. e. our army. So, in another of our author's plays: “Who leads his power?” Steevens.

Note return to page 488 8&lblank; his airy fame,] Verbal elogium; what our author, in Macbeth, has called mouth honour. See p. 258, note. Malone.

Note return to page 489 9Thy topless deputation &lblank;] Topless is that which has nothing topping or overtopping it; supreme; sovereign. Johnson. So, in Dr. Faustus, 1604: “Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, “And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?” Again, in The Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1598: “And topless honours be bestow'd on thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 490 1'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,] The galleries of the theatre, in the time of our author, were sometimes termed the scaffolds. See The Account of the Ancient Theatres, vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 491 2&lblank; o'er-wrested seeming &lblank;] i. e. wrested beyond the truth; overcharged. Both the old copies, as well as all the modern editions, have—o'er-rested, which affords no meaning. The same error is found in Look To It for I'l Stabbe You, 1604: “Lawyers that rest the law to your affection.” Malone. Over-wrested is—wound up too high. A wrest was an instrument for tuning a harp, by drawing up the strings. See Mr. Douce's note on Act III. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 492 3&lblank; a chime a mending;] To this comparison the praise of originality must be allowed. He who, like myself, has been in the tower of a church while the chimes were repairing, will never wish a second time to be present at so dissonantly noisy an operation. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 4&lblank; unsquar'd,] i. e. unadapted to their subject, as stones are unfitted to the purposes of architecture, while they are yet unsquar'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 494 5&lblank; as near as the extremest ends Of parallels;] The parallels to which the allusion seems to be made, are the parallels on a map. As like as east to west. Johnson.

Note return to page 495 6&lblank; a palsy-fumbling &lblank;] Old copies give this as two distinct words. But it should be written—palsy-fumbling, i. e. paralytick fumbling. Tyrwhitt. On seems to be used for—at. So, p. 276: “Pointing on him.” i. e. at him. Steevens.

Note return to page 496 7All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, Achievements, plots, &c.] All our good grace exact, means our excellence irreprehensible. Johnson.

Note return to page 497 8&lblank; to make paradoxes.] Paradoxes may have a meaning, but it is not clear and distinct. I wish the copies had given: “&lblank; to make parodies.” Johnson.

Note return to page 498 9&lblank; bears his head In such a rein,] That is, holds up his head as haughtily. We still say of a girl, she bridles. Johnson.

Note return to page 499 1&lblank; whose gall coins slanders like a mint,] i. e. as fast as a mint coins money. Malone.

Note return to page 500 2How rank soever rounded in with danger.] A rank weed is a high weed. The modern editions silently read: “How hard soever &lblank;.” Johnson. “&lblank; rounded in with danger.” So, in King Henry V.: “How dread an army hath enrounded him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 501 3&lblank; and know, by measure Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight,] I think it were better to read: “&lblank; and know the measure, “By their observant toil, of the enemies' weight.” Johnson. “&lblank; by measure &lblank;” That is “by means of their observant toil.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 502 4What trumpet? look, Menelaus.] Surely, the name of Menelaus only serves to destroy the metre, and should therefore be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 503 5&lblank; kingly ears?] The quarto: “&lblank; kingly eyes?” Johnson.

Note return to page 504 6&lblank; Achilles' arm &lblank;] So the copies. Perhaps the author wrote: “&lblank; Alcides' arm.” Johnson.

Note return to page 505 7A stranger to those most imperial looks &lblank;] And yet this was the seventh year of the war. Shakspeare, who so wonderfully preserves character, usually confounds the customs of all nations, and probably supposed that the ancients (like the heroes of chivalry) fought with beavers to their helmets. So, in the fourth Act of this play, Nestor says to Hector: “But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, “I never saw till now.” Shakspeare might have adopted this error from the wooden cuts to ancient books, or from the illuminators of manuscripts, who never seem to have entertained the least idea of habits, manners, or customs more ancient than their own. There are books in the British Museum of the age of King Henry VI.; and in these the heroes of ancient Greece are represented in the very dresses worn at the time when the books received their decorations. Steevens. In The Destruction of Troy Shakspeare found all the chieftains of each army termed knights, mounted on stately horses, defended with modern helmets, &c. &c. Malone. In what edition did these representations occur to Shakspeare? Steevens. The fifth edition was published in 1617; there was one in 1607, and probably the others were prior to this play. Malone.

Note return to page 506 8&lblank; bid the cheek &lblank;] So the quarto. The folio has: “&lblank; on the cheek &lblank;.” Johnson.

Note return to page 507 9&lblank; they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, Nothing so full of heart.] I have not the smallest doubt that the poet wrote—(as I suggested in my Second Appendix, 8vo. 1783:) “&lblank; they have galls, “Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's a god “Nothing so full of heart. So, in Macbeth: “Sleek o'er your rugged looks; be bright and jovial “Among your guests to-night.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Cæsar, why he's the Jupiter of men.” Again, ibidem: “Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove.” The text, in my apprehension, is unintelligible, though I have not ventured, on my own opinion, to disturb it. In the old copy there is no point after the word accord, which adds some support to my conjecture. It also may be observed, that in peace the Trojans have just been compared to angels; and here Æneas, in a similar strain of panegyrick, compares them in war to that God who was proverbially distinguished for high spirits. The present punctuation of the text was introduced by Mr. Theobald. The words being pointed thus, he thinks it clear that the meaning is—They have galls, good arms, &c. and Jove annuente, nothing is so full of heart as they. Had Shakspeare written, “&lblank; with Jove's accord,” and “Nothing's so full,” &c. such an interpretation might be received; but, as the words stand, it is inadmissible. The quarto reads: “&lblank; and great Jove's accord,” &c. Malone. Perhaps we should read: “&lblank; and Love's a lord “Nothing so full of heart. The words Jove and Love, in a future scene of this play, are substituted for each other, by the old blundering printers. In Love's Labour's Lost, Cupid is styled “Lord of ay-mees;” and Romeo speaks of his “bosom's Lord.” In Othello, Love is commanded to “yield up his hearted throne.” And, yet more appositely, Valentine, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, says, “&lblank; love's a mighty lord &lblank;.” The meaning of Æneas will then be obvious. The most confident of all passions is not so daring as we are in the field. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “And what Love can do, that dares Love attempt.” Mr. M. Mason would read—“and Jove's own bird.” Perhaps, however, the old reading may be the true one, the speaker meaning to say, that, “when they have the accord of Jove on their side, nothing is so courageous as the Trojans.” Thus, in Coriolanus: “The god of soldiers “(With the consent of supreme Jove) inform “Thy thoughts with nobleness &lblank;.” Jove's accord, in the present instance, like the Jove probante of Horace, may be an ablative absolute, as in Pope's version of the 19th Iliad, 190: “And, Jove attesting, the firm compact made.” Steevens.

Note return to page 508 1The worthiness of praise disdains his worth, If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth:] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; power unto itself most commendable, “Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair “To extol what it hath done.” Malone.

Note return to page 509 2What's your affair, I pray you?] The words—I pray you, are an apparent interpolation, and consequently destroy the measure. “Æn. Ay, Greek, that is my name. “Agam. What's your affair?—” These hemistichs, joined together, form a complete verse. Steevens.

Note return to page 510 3Speak frankly as the wind;] So, Jacques, in As You Like It: “&lblank; I must have liberty “Withal as large a charter as the wind “To blow on whom I please &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 511 4&lblank; long-continued truce &lblank;] Of this long truce there has been no notice taken; in this very Act it is said, that “Ajax coped Hector yesterday in the battle.” Johnson. Here we have another proof of Shakspeare's falling into inconsistencies, by sometimes adhering to, and sometimes deserting, his original: a point, on which some stress has been laid in the Dissertation printed at the end of The Third Part of King Henry VI. Of this dull and “long-continued truce” (which was agreed upon at the desire of the Trojans, for six months,) Shakspeare found an account in the seventh chapter of the third book of The Destruction of Troy. In the fifteenth chapter of the same book the beautiful daughter of Calchas is first introduced. Malone.

Note return to page 512 5&lblank; rusty &lblank;] Quarto, resty. Johnson.

Note return to page 513 6&lblank; more than in confession,] Confession for profession. Warburton.

Note return to page 514 7&lblank; to her own lips he loves,] That is, ‘confession made with idle vows to the lips of her whom he loves.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 515 8&lblank; and not worth The splinter of a lance.] This is the language of romance. Such a challenge would better have suited Palmerin or Amadis, than Hector or Æneas. Steevens.

Note return to page 516 9&lblank; in our Grecian host &lblank;] So the quarto. The folio has —Grecian mould. Malone.

Note return to page 517 2And in my vantbrace &lblank;] An armour for the arm, avantbras. Pope. Milton uses the word in his Sampson Agonistes, and Heywood in his Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; peruse his armour, “The dint's still in the vantbrace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 518 3I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood.] So, in Coriolanus, one of the Volcian Guard says to old Menenius, “Back, I say, go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood.” Thus the quarto. The folio reads—I'll pawn this truth. Malone.

Note return to page 519 4Be you my time, &c,] i. e. be you to my present purpose what time is in respect of all other schemes, viz. a ripener and bringer of them to maturity. Steevens. I believe Shakspeare was here thinking of the period of gestation which is sometimes denominated a female's time, or reckoning. T. C.

Note return to page 520 5&lblank; The seeded pride, &c.] Shakspeare might have taken this idea from Lyte's Herbal, 1578 and 1579. The Oleander tree or Nerium “hath scarce one good propertie.” It may be compared to a Pharisee, “who maketh a glorious and beautiful show, but inwardly is of a corrupt and poisoned nature.”—“It is high time, &c. to supplant it (i. e. pharisaism) for it hath already floured, so that I feare it will shortly seede, and fill this wholesome soyle full of wicked Nerium.” Tollet. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “How will thy shame be seeded in thine age, “When thus thy vices bud before thy spring?” Malone.

Note return to page 521 6&lblank; nursery &lblank;] Alluding to a plantation called a nursery. Johnson.

Note return to page 522 7Well, and how?] We might complete this defective line by reading: “Well, and how then?” Sir T. Hanmer reads—how now? Steevens.

Note return to page 523 8The purpose is perspicuous even as substance, Whose grossness little characters sum up:] That is, the purpose is as plain as body or substance; and though I have collected this purpose from many minute particulars, as a gross body is made up of small insensible parts, yet the result is as clear and certain as a body thus made up is palpable and visible. This is the thought, though a little obscured in the conciseness of the expression. Warburton, Substance is estate, the value of which is ascertained by the use of small characters, i. e. numerals. So, in the prologue to King Henry V.: “&lblank; a crooked figure may “Attest, in little place, a million.” The gross sum is a term used in The Merchant of Venice. Grossness has the same meaning in this instance. Steevens.

Note return to page 524 9And, in the publication, make no strain,] Nestor goes on to say, make no difficulty, no doubt, when this duel comes to be proclaimed, but that Achilles, dull as he is, will discover the drift of it. This is the meaning of the line. So afterwards, in this play, Ulysses says: “I do not strain at the position.” i. e. I do not hesitate at, I make no difficulty of it. Theobald.

Note return to page 525 1&lblank; those honours &lblank;] Folio—his honour. Malone.

Note return to page 526 2&lblank; scantling &lblank;] That is, a measure, proportion. The carpenter cuts his wood to a certain scantling. Johnson. So, in John Florio's translation of Montaigne's Essays, folio, 1603: “When the lion's skin will not suffice, we must add a scantling of the fox's.” Malone.

Note return to page 527 3&lblank; small pricks &lblank;] Small points compared with the volumes. Johnson. Indexes were, in Shakspeare's time, often prefixed to books. Malone.

Note return to page 528 4Which entertain'd, &c.] These two lines [and the concluding hemistich] are not in the quarto. Johnson.

Note return to page 529 5&lblank; limbs are his instruments,] The folio reads: “&lblank; limbs are in his instruments.” I have omitted the impertinent preposition. Steevens.

Note return to page 530 6&lblank; if not,] I suppose, for the sake of metre, we should read: “&lblank; if they do not.” Steevens.

Note return to page 531 7The lustre of the better shall exceed, By showing the worse first.] The folio reads: “The lustre of the better, yet to show, “Shall show the better.” I once thought that the alteration was made by the author; but a more diligent comparison of the quartos and the first folio has convinced me that some arbitrary alterations were made in the latter copy by its editor. The quarto copy of this play is in general more correct than the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 532 8&lblank; share &lblank;] So the quarto. The folio—wear. Johnson.

Note return to page 533 9&lblank; our main opinion &lblank;] Is, our general estimation or character. See Henry IV. Part I. Act V. Sc. IV. Opinion has already been used in this scene in the same sense. Malone.

Note return to page 534 1&lblank; blockish Ajax &lblank;] Shakspeare, on this occasion has deserted Lydgate, who gives a very different character of Ajax: “Another Ajax (surnamed Telamon) “There was, a man that learning did adore,” &c. “Who did so much in eloquence abound, “That in his time the like could not be found.” Again: “And one that hated pride and flattery,” &c. Our author appears to have drawn his portrait of the Grecian chief from the invectives thrown out against him by Ulysses in the thirteenth book of Ovid's Metamorphosis, translated by Golding, 1587; or from the prologue to Harrington's Metamorphosis of Ajax, 1596, in which he is represented as “strong, heady, boisterous, and a terrible fighting fellow, but neither wise, learned, staide, nor polliticke.” Steevens. I suspect that Shakspeare confounded Ajax Telamonius with Ajax Oileus. The characters of each of them are given by Lydgate. Shakspeare knew that one of the Ajaxes was Hector's nephew, the son of his sister; but perhaps did not know that he was Ajax Telamonius, and in consequence of not attending to this circumstance has attributed to the person whom he has introduced in this play part of the character which Lydgate had drawn for Ajax Oileus: “Oileus Ajax was right corpulent; “To be well cladde he set all his entent. “In rich aray he was full curyous, “Although he were of body corsyous. “Of armes great, with shoulders square and brode; “It was of him almost a horse-lode. “High of stature, and boystrous in a pres, “And of his speech rude, and rechles. “Full many worde in ydel hym asterte, “And but a coward was he of his herte.” Ajax Telamonius he thus describes: “An other Ajax Thelamonyius “There was also, dyscrete and virtuous; “Wonder faire and semely to behold, “Whose heyr was black and upward ay gan folde, “In compas wise round as any sphere; “And of musyke was there none his pere. “&lblank; yet had he good practike “In armes eke, and was a noble knight. “No man more orped, nor hardyer for to fight, “Nor desirous for to have victorye; “Devoyde of pomp, hating all vayn glorye, “All ydle laud spent and blowne in vayne.” Lydgate's Auncient Historie, &c. 1555. There is not the smallest ground in Lydgate for what the author of the Rifacimento of this poem, published in 1614, has introduced, concerning his eloquence and adoring learning. See Mr. Steevens's note. Perhaps, however, The Destruction of Troy led Shakspeare to give this representation; for the author of that book, describing these two persons, improperly calls Ajax Oileus, simply Ajax, as the more eminent of the two: “Ajax was of a huge stature, great and large in the shoulders, great armes, and always was well clothed, and very richly; and was of no great enterprise, and spake very quicke. Thelamon Ajax was a marvellous faire knight; he had black hayres, and he hadde great pleasure in musicke, and he sang him selfe very well: he was of greate prowesse, and a valiant man of warre, and without pompe.” Malone. Mr. Malone observes, that “there is not the smallest ground, &c. concerning his eloquence and adoring learning.” But may we ask what interpretation this gentleman would give to the epithets &lblank; diserte and virtuous?” By the first word, (formed from the Latin disertus,) eloquence must have been designed; and by the latter, the artes ingenuæ, which in the age of Lydgate were often called the virtuous arts. Steevens. If Mr. Steevens had consulted the original from which I quoted, he would have found that diserte was merely an error of the press, and that it stood in Lydgate as it did in my MS. dyscrete, and so I have now corrected it. Malone.

Note return to page 535 2&lblank; The sort &lblank;] i. e. the lot. Steevens. So, in Lydgate's Auncient Historie, &c: “Calchas had experience “Especially of calculation; “Of sorte also, and divynation.” Malone.

Note return to page 536 3&lblank; under our opinion &lblank;] Here again opinion means character. Malone.

Note return to page 537 4&lblank; Ulysses, Now I begin, &c.] The quarto and folio have—Now, Ulysses, I begin, &c. The transposition was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 538 5Must tarre the mastiffs on,] Tarre, an old English word, signifying to provoke or urge on. See King John, Act IV. Sc. I.: “&lblank; like a dog, “Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.” Pope.

Note return to page 539 6Act II.] This play is not divided into Acts in any of the original editions. Johnson.

Note return to page 540 7The plague of Greece upon thee,] Alluding perhaps to the plague sent by Apollo on the Grecian army. Johnson. The following lines of Lydgate's Auncient Historie of the Warres between the Trojans and the Grecians, 1555, were probably here in our author's thoughts: “And in this whyle a great mortalyte, “Both of sworde and of pestilence, “Among Greekes, by fatal influence “Of noyous hete and of corrupt eyre, “Engendred was, that tho in great dispayre “Of theyr life in the fyelde they leye, “For day by day sodaynly they deye, “Whereby theyr nombre fast gan dyscrece; “And whan they sawe that it ne wolde sece, “By theyr advyse the kyng Agamemnowne “For a trewse sent unto the towne, “For thirty dayes, and Priamus the kinge “Without abode graunted his axynge.” Malone. Our author may as well be supposed to have caught this circumstance, relative to the plague, from the first book of Hall's or Chapman's version of the Iliad. Steevens.

Note return to page 541 8&lblank; thou mongrel beef-witted lord!] So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.” Steevens. He calls Ajax mongrel on account of his father's being a Grecian and his mother a Trojan. See Hector's speech to Ajax, in Act IV. Sc. V.: “Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 542 9Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, speak:] Unsalted leaven means sour without salt, malignity without wit. Shakspeare wrote first unsalted; but recollecting that want of salt was no fault in leaven, changed it to vinew'd. Johnson. The want of salt is no fault in leaven; but leaven without the addition of salt will not make good bread: hence Shakspeare used it as a term of reproach. Malone. Unsalted is the reading of both the quartos. Francis Beaumont, in his letter to Speght on his edition of Chaucer's works, 1602, says: “Many of Chaucer's words are become as it were vinew'd and hoarie with over long lying.” Again, in Tho. Newton's Herbal to the Bible, 8vo. 1587: “For being long kept they grow hore and vinewed.” Steevens. In the Preface to James the First's Bible, the translators speak of fenowed (i. e. vinewed or mouldy) traditions. Blackstone. The folio has—thou whinid'st leaven; a corruption undoubtedly of vinnewdst or vinniedst: that is, thou most mouldy leaven. In Dorsetshire they at this day call cheese that is become mouldy, vinny cheese. Malone.

Note return to page 543 1&lblank; a red murrain, &c.] A similar imprecation is found in The Tempest: “&lblank; The red plague rid you!” Steevens.

Note return to page 544 2&lblank; in Greece.] [Thus far the folio.] The quarto adds— “when thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another.” Johnson.

Note return to page 545 3&lblank; Ay, that thou barkest at him.] I read,—O that thou barkedst at him. Johnson. The old reading is I, which, if changed at all, should have been changed into ay. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 546 4Cobloaf!] A crusty, uneven, gibbous loaf, is in some counties called by this name. Steevens. A cob-loaf, says Minsheu, in his Dictionary, 1616, is “a bunne. It is a little loaf made with a round head, such as cob-irons which support the fire. G. Bignet, a bigne, a knob or lump risen after a knock or blow.” The word Bignet Cotgrave, in his Dictionary, 1611, renders thus: “Little round loaves or lumps, made of fine meale, oyle, or butter, and reasons: bunnes, lenten loaves.” Cob-loaf ought, perhaps, to be rather written cop-loaf. Malone.

Note return to page 547 5&lblank; pun thee into shivers &lblank;] Pun is in the midland counties the vulgar and colloquial word for—pound. Johnson. It is used by P. Holland, in his translation of Pliny's Natural History, book xxviii. ch. xii.: “&lblank; punned altogether and reduced into a liniment.” Again, book xxix. ch. iv.: “The gall of these lizards punned and dissolved in water.” Steevens. Cole, in his Dictionary, renders it by the Latin words contero, contundo. Mr. Pope, who altered whatever he did not understand, reads—pound, and was followed by three subsequent editors. Malone.

Note return to page 548 6Thou stool for a witch!] In one way of trying a witch they used to place her on a chair or stool, with her legs tied across, that all the weight of her body might rest upon her seat; and by that means, after some time, the circulation of the blood would be much stopped, and her sitting would be as painful as the wooden horse. Grey.

Note return to page 549 7&lblank; an assinego &lblank;] I am not very certain what the idea conveyed by this word was meant to be. Asinaio is Italian, says Sir T. Hanmer, for an ass-driver: but, in Mirza, a tragedy, by Rob. Baron, Act III. the following passage occurs, with a note annexed to it: “&lblank; the stout trusty blade, “That at one blow has cut an asinego “Asunder like a thread &lblank;” “This (says the author) is the usual trial of the Persian shamsheers, or cemiters, which are crooked like a crescent of so good metal, that they prefer them before any other, and so sharp as any razor.” I hope, for the credit of the prince, that the experiment was rather made on an ass, than an ass-driver. From the following passage I should suppose asinego to be merely a cant term for a foolish fellow, an idiot: “They appalled me as you see, made a fool, or an asinego of me.” See The Antiquary, a comedy, by S. Marmion, 1641. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady: “&lblank; all this would be forsworn, and I again an asinego, as your sister left me.” Steevens. Baron certainly used asinego for an ass, as in a note on the fourth act of his play, he cites the very passage from Herbert which Mr. Ritson has quoted below. Boswell. Asinego is Portuguese for a little ass. Musgrave. And Dr. Musgrave might have added, that, in his native county, it is the vulgar name for an ass at present. Henley. The same term, as I am informed, is also current among the lower rank of people in Norfolk. Steevens. An asinego is a he ass. “A souldiers wife abounding with more lust than love, complaines to the king, her husband did not satisfie her, whereas he makes her to be coupled to an asinego, whose villainy and lust took away her life.” Herbert's Travels, 1634, p. 98. Ritson.

Note return to page 550 8&lblank; thou art bought and sold &lblank;] This was a proverbial expression. Malone. So, in King Richard III.: “For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “From bought and sold lord Talbot.” Steevens.

Note return to page 551 9If thou use to beat me,] i. e. if thou continue to beat me, or make a practice of beating me. Steevens.

Note return to page 552 1&lblank; his pia mater, &c.] So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; here comes one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater.” The pia mater is a membrane that protects the substance of the brain. Steevens.

Note return to page 553 2&lblank; is beaten voluntary:] i. e. voluntarily. Shakspeare often uses adjectives adverbially. See Henry IV. Part I. Act I. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 554 3Hector shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains; &c.] The same thought occurs in Cymbeline: “&lblank; not Hercules “Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none.” Steevens.

Note return to page 555 4&lblank; Nestor,—whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails &lblank;] [Old copies—their grandsires.] This is one of these editors' wise riddles. What! was Nestor's wit mouldy before his grandsire's toes had nails? Preposterous nonsense! and yet so easy a change as one poor pronoun for another, sets all right and clear. Theobald.

Note return to page 556 5&lblank; when Achilles' brach bids me,] The folio and quarto read—Achilles brooch. Brooch is an appendant ornament. The meaning may be, equivalent to one of Achilles' hangers-on. Johnson. Brach I believe to be the true reading. He calls Patroclus, in contempt, Achilles's dog. So, in Timon of Athens: “When thou art Timon's dog,” &c. A brooch was a cluster of gems affixed to a pin, and anciently worn in the hats of people of distinction. See the portrait of Sir Christopher Hatton. Steevens. I believe brache [which was suggested by Mr. Rowe] to be the true reading. It certainly means a bitch, and not a dog, which renders the expression more abusive and offensive. Thersites calls Patroclus Achilles' brache, for the same reason that he afterwards calls him his male harlot, and his masculine whore. M. Mason. I have little doubt of broch being the true reading, as a term of contempt. The meaning of broche is well ascertained—a spit—a bodkin; which being formerly used in the ladies' dress, was adorned with jewels, and gold and silver ornaments. Hence in old lists of jewels are found brotchets. I have a very magnificent one, which is figured and described by Pennant, in the second volume of his Tour to Scotland, in 1772, p. 14, in which the spit or bodkin forms but a very small part of the whole. Lort. I have sometimes thought that the word intended might have been Achilles's brock, i. e. that over-weening conceited coxcomb, who attends upon Achilles. Our author has used this term of contempt in Twelfth-Night: “Marry, hang thee, brock!” So, in The Jests of George Peele, quarto, 1657: “This self-conceited brock had George invited,” &c. Malone. A brock, literally means—a badger. Steevens. It is a common term of reproach in Scotland. Boswell.

Note return to page 557 6&lblank; the first &lblank;] So the quarto. Folio—the fifth. Malone.

Note return to page 558 7&lblank; spungy &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; his spungy officers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 559 8&lblank; Who knows what follows?] Who knows what ill consequences may follow from pursuing this or that course? Malone.

Note return to page 560 9&lblank; many thousand dismes,] Disme, Fr. is the tithe, the tenth. So, in the Prologue to Gower's Confessio Amantis, 1554: “The disme goeth to the battaile.” Again, in Holinshed's Reign of Richard II.: “&lblank; so that there was levied, what of the disme, and by the devotion of the people,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 561 1The past-proportion of his infinite?] Thus read both the copies. The meaning is, “that greatness to which no measure bears any proportion.” The modern editors silently give: “The vast proportion &lblank;.” Johnson.

Note return to page 562 2&lblank; though you bite so sharp at reasons, &c.] Here is a wretched quibble between reasons and raisins, which, in Shakspeare's time, were, I believe, pronounced alike. Dogberry, in Much Ado About Nothing, plays upon the same words: “If Justice cannot tame you, she shall never weigh more reasons in her balance.” Malone. The present suspicion of a quibble on the word—reason, is not, in my opinion, sufficiently warranted by the context. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 3And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star dis-orb'd?] These two lines are misplaced in all the folio editions. Pope.

Note return to page 564 4&lblank; reason and respect Make livers pale, &c.] Respect is caution, a regard to consequences. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating die! “Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age!— “Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; and never learn'd “The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd “The sugar'd game before thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 565 5And the will dotes, that is attributive &lblank;] So the quarto. The folio reads—inclinable, which Mr. Pope says “is better.” Malone. I think the first reading better; “the will dotes that attributes” or gives “the qualities which it affects:” that first causes excellence, and then admires it. Johnson.

Note return to page 566 6Without some image of the affected merit:] We should read: “&lblank; the affected's merit.” i. e. without some mark of merit in the thing affected. Warburton. The present reading is right. The will affects an object for some supposed merit, which Hector says is censurable, unless the merit so affected be really there. Johnson.

Note return to page 567 7&lblank; in the conduct of my will;] i. e. under the guidance of my will. Malone.

Note return to page 568 8&lblank; blench &lblank;] See p. 230, n. 6. Steevens.

Note return to page 569 9&lblank; soil'd them;] So reads the quarto. The folio: “&lblank; spoil'd them.” Johnson.

Note return to page 570 1&lblank; unrespective sieve,] That is, unto a common voider. Sieve is in the quarto. The folio reads: “&lblank; unrespective same;” for which the second folio and modern editions have silently printed: “&lblank; unrespective place.” Johnson. It is well known that sieves and half-sieves are baskets to be met with in every quarter of Covent Garden market; and that, in some families, baskets lined with tin are still employed as voiders. With the former of these senses sieve is used in The Wits, by Sir W. D'Avenant: “&lblank; apple-wives “That wrangle for a sieve.” Dr. Farmer adds, that, in several counties of England, the baskets used for carrying out dirt, &c. are called sieves. The correction, therefore, in the second folio, appears to have been unnecessary. Steevens.

Note return to page 571 2Your breath with full consent &lblank;] Your breaths all blowing together; your unanimous approbation. Thus the quarto. The folio reads—of full consent. Malone.

Note return to page 572 3And, for an old aunt,] Priam's sister, Hesione, whom Hercules, being enraged at Priam's breach of faith, gave to Telamon, who by her had Ajax. Malone. This circumstance is also found in Lydgate, book ii. where Priam says: “My sister eke, called Exiona “Out of this regyon ye have ladde away,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 573 4&lblank; makes pale the morning.] So the quarto. The folio and modern editors— “&lblank; makes stale the morning.” Johnson.

Note return to page 574 5And do a deed that fortune never did,] If I understand this passage, the meaning is, “Why do you, by censuring the determination of your own wisdoms, degrade Helen, whom fortune hath not yet deprived of her value, or against whom, as the wife of Paris, fortune has not in this war so declared, as to make us value her less?” This is very harsh, and much strained. Johnson. The meaning, I believe, is: “Act with more inconstancy and caprice than ever did fortune.” Henley. Fortune was never so unjust and mutable as to rate a thing on one day above all price, and on the next to set no estimation whatsoever upon it. You are now going to do what fortune never did. Such, I think, is the meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 575 6But, thieves,] Sir T. Hanmer reads—Base thieves—. Johnson. That did, in the next line, means—that which in their country did. Malone.

Note return to page 576 7Enter Cassandra, raving.] This circumstance also is from the third book of Lydgate's Auncient Historie, &c. 1555: “This was the noise and the pyteous crye “Of Cassandra that so dredefully “She gan to make aboute in euery strete “Through ye towne,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 577 8&lblank; wrinkled elders,] So the quarto. Folio—wrinkled old. Malone. Elders, the erroneous reading of the quarto, would seem to have been properly corrected in the copy whence the first folio was printed; but it is a rule with printers, whenever they meet with a strange word in a manuscript, to give the nearest word to it they are acquainted with; a liberty which has been not very sparingly exercised in all the old editions of our author's plays. There cannot be a question that he wrote: “&lblank; mid-age and wrinkled eld.” So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “The superstitious idle-headed eld.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “Doth beg the alms of palsied eld.” Ritson.

Note return to page 578 9Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand;] See p. 235, n. 5, and p. 240, n. 9. This line unavoidably reminds us of another in the second book of the Æneid: Trojaque nunc stares, Priamique arx alta maneres. Steevens.

Note return to page 579 1Our fire-brand brother,] Hecuba, when pregnant with Paris, dreamed she should be delivered of a burning torch. &lblank; et face prægnans Cisseïs regina Parin creat. Æneid X. 705. Steevens.

Note return to page 580 2&lblank; distaste &lblank;] Corrupt; change to a worse state. Johnson.

Note return to page 581 3To make it gracious.] i. e. to set it off; to show it to advantage. So, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “&lblank; he is most exquisite, &c. in sleeking of skinnes, blushing of cheeks, &c. that ever made an ould lady gracious by torch-light.” Steevens.

Note return to page 582 4&lblank; convince of levity &lblank;] This word, which our author frequently employs in the obsolete sense of—to overpower, subdue, seems, in the present instance, to signify—convict, or subject to the charge of levity. Steevens.

Note return to page 583 5&lblank; your full consent &lblank;] Your unanimous approbation. See p. 293, n. 2. Malone.

Note return to page 584 6&lblank; her fair rape &lblank;] Rape, in our author's time, commonly signified the carrying away of a female. Malone. It has always borne that, as one of its significations; raptus Helenæ (without any idea of personal violence) being constantly rendered—the rape of Helen. Steevens.

Note return to page 585 7Have gloz'd,] So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book iii. viii. 14: “&lblank; could well his glozing speeches frame.” To gloze, in this instance, means to insinuate; but, in Shakspeare, to comment. So, in K. Henry V.: “Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze “To be the realm of France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 586 8&lblank; Aristotle &lblank;] Let it be remembered, as often as Shakspeare's anachronisms occur, that errors in computing time were very frequent in those ancient romances which seem to have formed the greater part of his library. I may add, that even classick authors are not exempt from such mistakes. In the fifth book of Statius's Thebaid, Amphiaraus talks of the fates of Nestor and Priam, neither of whom died till long after him. If on this occasion, somewhat should be attributed to his augural profession, yet if he could so freely mention, nay, even quote as examples to the whole army, things that would not happen till the next age, they must all have been prophets as well as himself, or they could not have understood him. Hector's mention of Aristotle, however, (during our ancient propensity to quote the authorities of the learned on every occasion) is not more absurd than the following circumstance in The Dialogues of Creatures Moralysed, bl. l. no date, (a book which Shakspeare might have seen,) where we find God Almighty quoting Cato. See Dial. IV. I may add, on this subject, that during an altercation between Noah and his Wife, in one of the Chester Whitsun Playes, the Lady swears by—Christ and Saint John. Steevens.

Note return to page 587 9&lblank; more deaf than adders &lblank;] See Henry VI. P. II. Act III. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 588 1&lblank; of partial indulgence &lblank;] i. e. through partial indulgence. M. Mason.

Note return to page 589 2&lblank; benumbed wills,] That is, inflexible, immoveable, no longer obedient to superior direction. Johnson.

Note return to page 590 3There is a law &lblank;] What the law does in every nation between individuals, justice ought to do between nations. Johnson.

Note return to page 591 4Is this, in way of truth: &lblank;] Though considering truth and justice in this question, this is my opinion; yet as a question of honour, I think on it as you. Johnson.

Note return to page 592 5&lblank; the performance of our heaving spleens,] The execution of spirit and resentment. Johnson.

Note return to page 593 6&lblank; canonize us:] The hope of being registered as a saint, is rather out of its place at so early a period, as this is of the Trojan war. Steevens.

Note return to page 594 7&lblank; emulation &lblank;] That is, envy, factious contention. Johnson. Emulation is now never used in an ill sense; but Shakspeare meant to employ it so. He has used the same with more propriety in a former scene, by adding epithets that ascertain its meaning: “&lblank; so every step, “Exampled by the first pace that is sick “Of his superior, grows to an envious fever “Of pale and bloodless emulation.” Malone.

Note return to page 595 8&lblank; a rare engineer.] The old copies have—enginer, which was the old spelling of engineer. So, truncheoner, pioner, mutiner, sonneter, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 596 9&lblank; the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus;] The wand of Mercury is wreathed with serpents. So Martial, lib. vii. epig. lxxiv.: Cyllenes cœlique decus! facunde minister,   Aurea cui torto virga dracone viret. Steevens.

Note return to page 597 1&lblank; without drawing their massy irons,] That is, without drawing their swords to cut the web. They use no means but those of violence. Johnson. Thus the quarto. The folio reads—the massy irons. In the late editions iron has been substituted for irons, the word found in the old copies, and certainly the true reading. So, in King Richard III.: “Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, “That they may crush down with a heavy fall “The usurping helmets of our adversaries.” Malone. Bruising irons, in this quotation, as Mr. Henley has well observed in loco, signify—maces, weapons formerly used by our English cavalry. See Grose on ancient Armour, p. 53. Steevens.

Note return to page 598 2&lblank; the bone-ache!] In the quarto—the Neapolitan bone-ache! Johnson. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “&lblank; Beauty is a witch, “Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.” So also, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; Blood, thou still art blood: “Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, “'Tis not the devil's crest.”

Note return to page 599 4If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldest not have slipped out of my contemplation:] Here is a plain allusion to the counterfeit piece of money called a slip, which occurs again in Romeo and Juliet, Act II. Sc. IV. and which has been happily illustrated by Mr. Reed, in a note on that passage. There is the same allusion in Every Man in his Humour, Act II. Sc. V. Whalley.

Note return to page 600 5Let thy blood be thy direction &lblank;] Thy blood means, thy passions; thy natural propensities. Malone. So, in The Yorkshire Tragedy: “&lblank; for 'tis our blood to love what we are forbidden.” This word has the same sense in Timon of Athens and Cymbeline. Steevens.

Note return to page 601 6&lblank; decline the whole question.] Deduce the question from the first case to the last. Johnson.

Note return to page 602 7&lblank; Patroclus is a fool.] The four next speeches are not in the quarto. Johnson.

Note return to page 603 8&lblank; a fool positive.] The poet is still thinking of his grammar; the first degree of comparison being here in his thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 604 9&lblank; of the prover.] So the quarto. Johnson. The folio profanely reads—to thy Creator. Steevens.

Note return to page 605 1&lblank; to draw emulous factions,] i. e. envious, contending factions. See p. 299: “I was advértis'd, their great general slept, “Whilst emulation in the army crept.” Malone. And the note on that passage: Why not rival factions, factions jealous of each other? Steevens.

Note return to page 606 2Now the dry serpigo, &c.] This is added in the folio. Johnson. The serpigo is a kind of fetter. The term occurs also in Measure for Measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 607 3He shent our messengers;] i. e. rebuked, rated. Warburton. This word is used in common by all our ancient writers. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book iv. c. vi.: “Yet for no bidding, not for being shent, “Would he restrained be from his attendement.” Again, ibid.: “He for such baseness shamefully him shent.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 41: “&lblank; hastowe no mynde “How the cursed Sowdan Laban “All messengeris he doth shende.” Steevens. The quarto reads—sate; the folio—sent. The correction was made by Mr. Theobald. Sir T. Hanmer reads—He sent us messengers. I have great doubts concerning the emendation now adopted, though I have nothing satisfactory to propose. Though sent might easily have been misprinted for shent, how could sate (the reading of the original copy) and shent have been confounded? Malone.

Note return to page 608 4&lblank; composure,] So reads the quarto very properly; but the folio, which the moderns have followed, has, ‘it was a strong counsel.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 609 5The elephant hath joints, &c.] So, in All's Lost by Lust, 1633: “&lblank; Is she pliant? “Stubborn as an elephant's leg, no bending in her.” Again, in All Fools, 1605: “I hope you are no elephant, you have joints.” In The Dialogues of Creatures Moralysed, &c. bl. l. is mention of “the olefawnte that bowyth not the kneys;” a curious specimen of our early Natural History. Steevens.

Note return to page 610 6&lblank; noble state,] Person of high dignity; spoken of Agamemnon. Johnson. Noble state rather means ‘the stately train of attending nobles whom you bring with you.’ Patroclus had already addressed Agamemnon by the title of “your greatness.” Steevens. State was formerly applied to a single person. So, in Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1614: “The archbishop of Grenada saying to the archbishop of Toledo, that he much marvelled, he being so great a state, would visit hospitals &lblank;.” Again, in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, 1591: “The Greek demands her, whither she was going, “And which of these two great estates her keeps.” Yet Mr. Steevens's interpretation appears to me to agree better with the context here. Malone.

Note return to page 611 7&lblank; breath.] Breath, in the present instance, stands for— breathing, i. e. exercise. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; it is the breathing time of day with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 612 8Than in the note, &c.] Surely the two unnecessary words— in the, which spoil the metre, should be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 613 9&lblank; tend the savage strangeness &lblank;] i. e. shyness, distant behaviour. So, in Venus and Adonis: “Measure my strangeness with my unripe years.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; I'll prove more true, “Than those that have more cunning to be strange.” To tend is to attend upon. Malone.

Note return to page 614 1&lblank; underwrite &lblank;] To subscribe, in Shakspeare, is to obey. Johnson. So, in King Lear: “You owe me no subscription.” Steevens.

Note return to page 615 2&lblank; in an observing kind &lblank;] i. e. in a mode religiously attentive. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “To do observance to a morn of May.” Steevens.

Note return to page 616 3His pettish lunes,] This is Sir T. Hanmer's emendation of his pettish lines. The old quarto reads: “His course and time.” This speech is unfaithfully printed in modern editions. Johnson. The quarto reads: “His course and time, his ebbs and flows, and if “The passage and whole stream of his commencement “Rode on his tide.— His [his commencement] was probably misprinted for this, as it is in a subsequent passage in this scene in the quarto copy: “And how his silence drinks up his applause.” Malone.

Note return to page 617 4&lblank; allowance give &lblank;] Allowance is approbation. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; if your sweet sway “Allow obedience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 618 5&lblank; enter.] Old copies, regardless of metre,—enter you. Steevens.

Note return to page 619 6&lblank; whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; power, unto itself most commendable, “Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair “To extol what it hath done.” Malone.

Note return to page 620 7&lblank; the engendering of toads.] Whoever wishes to comprehend the whole force of this allusion, may consult the late Dr. Goldsmith's History of the Earth, and Animated Nature, vol. vii. p. 92, 93. Steevens.

Note return to page 621 8Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,] So, in Julius Cæsar: “The genius and the mortal instruments “Are then in council; and the state of man, “Like to a little kingdom, suffers then “The nature of an insurrection.” Malone.

Note return to page 622 *So quarto; first folio, 'gainst itself.

Note return to page 623 9He is so plaguy proud, &c.] I cannot help regarding the vulgar epithet—plaguy, which extends the verse beyond its proper length, as the wretched interpolation of some foolish player. Steevens. Mr. Steevens would expunge from the text the very word which explains what follows, the death tokens found on those infected with the plague. Malone.

Note return to page 624 1&lblank; The death-tokens of it &lblank;] Alluding to the decisive spots appearing on those infected by the plague. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentinian: “Now, like the fearful tokens of the plague, “Are mere fore-runners of their ends.” Steevens. Dr. Hodges, in his Treatise on the Plague, says: “Spots of a dark complexion, usually called tokens, and looked on as the pledges or forewarnings of death, are minute and distinct blasts, which have their original from within, and rise up with a little pyramidal protuberance, the pestilential poison chiefly collected at their bases, tainting the neighbouring parts, and reaching to the surface.” Reed.

Note return to page 625 2&lblank; with his own seam;] Swine-seam, in the North, is hog's-lard. Ritson. See Sherwood's English and French Dictionary, folio, 1650. Malone.

Note return to page 626 3That were to enlard, &c.] This is only the well-known proverb —Grease a fat sow, &c. in a more stately dress. Steevens.

Note return to page 627 4&lblank; To Cancer, when he burns With entertaining great Hyperion.] Cancer is the Crab, a sign in the zodiack. The same thought is more clearly expressed by Thomson, whose words, on this occasion, are a sufficient illustration of our author's: “And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze.” Steevens.

Note return to page 628 5&lblank; I'll pash him Over the face.] i. e. strike him with violence. So, in The Virgin Martyr, by Massinger, 1623: “&lblank; when the batt'ring ram “Were fetching his career backward, to pash “Me with his horns to pieces.” Again, in Churchyard's Challenge, 1596, p. 91: “&lblank; the pot which goeth often to the water comes home with a knock, or at length is pashed all to pieces.” Reed.

Note return to page 629 6&lblank; pheeze his pride:] To pheeze is to comb or curry. Johnson. Mr. Steevens has explained the word feaze, as Dr. Johnson does, to mean the untwisting or unravelling a knotted skain of silk or thread. I recollect no authority for this use of it. To feize is to drive away; and the expression—I'll feize his pride, may signify, I'll humble or lower his pride. See vol. v. p. 357, n. l. Whalley. To comb or curry, undoubtedly, is the meaning of the word here. Kersey, in his Dictionary, 1708, says that it is a sea-term, and that it signifies, to separate a cable by untwisting the ends; and Dr. Johnson gives a similar account of its original meaning. [See the reference at the end of the foregoing note.] But whatever may have been the origin of the expression, it undoubtedly signified, in our author's time, to beat, knock, strike, or whip. Cole, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders it, flagellare, virgis cædere, as he does to feage, of which the modern school-boy term, to fag, is a corruption. Malone.

Note return to page 630 7Not for the worth &lblank;] Not for the value of all for which we are fighting. Johnson.

Note return to page 631 *So first folio; quarto, humorous.

Note return to page 632 8I will let his humours blood.] In the year 1600 a collection of Epigrams and Satires was published with this quaint title: “The Letting of Humours Blood in the Head-vaine.” Malone.

Note return to page 633 9He'll be physician,] Old copies—the physician. Steevens.

Note return to page 634 1I'll knead him, &c.] Old copy: “Ajax. He'd have ten shares. I'll knead him, I'll make him supple, he's not yet thorough warm. “Nest. &lblank; force him with praises:” &c. The latter part of Ajax's speech is certainly got out of place, and ought to be assigned to Nestor, as I have ventured to transpose it. Ajax is feeding on his vanity, and boasting what he will do to Achilles; he'll pash him o'er the face, he'll make him eat swords, he'll knead him, he'll supple him,” &c. Nestor and Ulysses slily labour to keep him up in this vein; and to this end Nestor craftily hints that Ajax is not warm yet, but must be crammed with more flattery. Theobald. Nestor was of the same opinion with Dr. Johnson, who, speaking of a metaphysical Scotch writer, said, that he thought there was “as much charity in helping a man down hill as up hill, if his tendency be downwards.” See Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, third edit. p. 245. Malone. “&lblank; force him &lblank;” i. e. stuff him. Farcir, Fr. So, again, in this play: “&lblank; malice forced with wit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 635 2He is not emulous,] Emulous is here used, in an ill sense, for envious. See p. 299, n. 7. Malone. Emulous, in this instance, and perhaps in some others, may well enough be supposed to signify—jealous of higher authority. Steevens.

Note return to page 636 3&lblank; that shall palter &lblank;] That shall juggle with us, or fly from his engagements. So, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; what other band “Than secret Romans, who have spoke the word, “And will not palter?” Malone.

Note return to page 637 4&lblank; she that gave the suck;] This is from St. Luke, xi. 27: “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps that thou hast sucked.” Steevens.

Note return to page 638 5&lblank; beyond all erudition:] Thus the folio. The quartos, erroneously: “&lblank; beyond all thy erudition.” Steevens. I think the quarto, if we correct the punctuation, affords the best reading: “&lblank; above all, thy erudition.” To praise Ajax for his learning corresponds with the rest of this speech, which is intended to feed the vanity of this “beef-witted lord;” while at the same time he is turned into ridicule. Boswell.

Note return to page 639 6Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield &lblank;] i. e. yield his titles, his celebrity for strength. Addition, in legal language, is the title given to each party, showing his degree, occupation, &c. as esquire, gentleman, yeoman, merchant, &c. Our author here, as usual, pays no regard to chronology. Milo of Croton lived long after the Trojan war. Malone.

Note return to page 640 7&lblank; like a bourn,] A bourn is a boundary, and sometimes a rivulet, dividing one place from another. So in King Lear, Act III. Sc. VI.: “Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 641 8Ajax. Shall I call you father? Nest. Ay, my good son.] In the folio and in the modern editions Ajax desires to give the title of father to Ulysses; in the quarto, more naturally, to Nestor. Johnson. Shakspeare had a custom prevalent about his own time in his thoughts. Ben Jonson had many who called themselves his sons. Mr. Vaillant adds, that Cotton dedicated his Treatise on Fishing to his father Walton; and that Ashmole, in his Diary, observes— “April 3. Mr. William Backhouse, of Swallowfield, in com. Berks, caused me to call him father thenceforward.” Steevens.

Note return to page 642 9Fresh kings are come to Troy, &c.] We might complete his imperfect verse by reading: “Fresh kings are come to succour Troy,” &c. So, Spenser: “To succour the weak state of sad afflicted Troy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 643 *First folio, may sail.

Note return to page 644 †First folio, bulks.

Note return to page 645 1&lblank; draw deep.] So, in the prologue to this play: “&lblank; the deep-drawing barks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 646 2I hope, I shall know your honour better.] The servant means to quibble. He hopes that Pandarus will become a better man than he is at present. In his next speech he chooses to understand Pandarus as if he had said he wished to grow better, and hence the servant affirms that he is in the state of grace. The second of these speeches has been pointed, in the late editions, as if he had asked, of what rank Pandarus was. Malone.

Note return to page 647 3&lblank; love's invisible soul,] May mean, the soul of love invisible every where else. Johnson.

Note return to page 648 4Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase,] The quibbling speaker seems to mean that sodden is a phrase fit only for the stews. Thus, says the Bawd in Pericles: “The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden. Steevens.

Note return to page 649 5&lblank; in fits,] i. e. now and then, by fits; or perhaps a quibble is intended. A fit was a part or division of a song, sometimes a strain in musick, and sometimes a measure in dancing. The reader will find it sufficiently illustrated in the two former senses by Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: in the third of these significations it occurs in All for Money, a tragedy, by T. Lupton, 1578: “Satan. Upon these chearful words I needs must dance a fitte.” Steevens.

Note return to page 650 6And, my lord, he desires you,] Here I think the speech of Pandarus should begin, and the rest of it should be added to that of Helen, but I have followed the copies. Johnson. Mr. Rowe had disposed these speeches in this manner. Hanmer annexes the words, “And to make a sweet lady,” &c. to the preceding speech of Pandarus, and in the rest follows Rowe. Malone.

Note return to page 651 7You must not know where he sups, &c.] These words are in the quarto given to Helen, and the editor of the folio did not perceive the error. In like manner, in Act II. Sc. I. p. 283, four speeches belonging to different persons are all in the quarto assigned to Ajax. “Cobloaf! He would pun thee,” &c. and in the last scene of the same Act, words that evidently belong to Nestor, are given to Ajax, [see p. 312, n. 1,] both in the quarto and folio. I have not therefore hesitated to add the words, “You must not know where he sups,” to the speech of Pandarus. Mr. Steevens proposes to assign the next speech, “I'll lay my life,” &c. to Helen instead of Paris. This arrangement appeared to me so plausible, that I once regulated the text accordingly. But it is observable that through the whole of the dialogue Helen steadily perseveres in soliciting Pandarus to sing: “My lord Pandarus,” —“Nay, but my lord,”—&c. I do not therefore believe that Shakspeare intended she should join in the present inquiry. Mr. M. Mason's objection also to such an arrangement is very weighty. “Pandarus, (he observes,) in his next speech but one, clearly addresses Paris, and in that speech he calls Cressida his disposer.” In what sense, however, Paris can call Cressida his disposer, I am altogether ignorant. Mr. M. Mason supposes that “Paris means to call Cressida his governor or director, as it appears, from what Helen says afterwards, that they had been good friends.” Perhaps Shakspeare wrote—despiser. What Pandarus says afterwards, that “Paris and Cressida are twain,” supports this conjecture. I do not believe that deposer (a reading suggested below) was our author's word; for Cressida had not deposed Helen in the affections of Troilus. A speech in a former scene, in which Pandarus says, “Helen loves Troilus more than Paris,” (which is insisted on by an anonymous Remarker.) [Mr. Ritson,] proves nothing. Had he said that Troilus once loved Helen better than Cressida, and afterwards preferred Cressida to her, the observation might deserve some attention. The words,—“I'll lay my life”—are omitted in the folio. The words,—“You must not know where he sups,”—I find Sir Thomas Hanmer had assigned to Pandarus. Malone. I believe, with Sir Thomas Hanmer, that—“You must not know where he sups,” should be added to the speech of Pandarus; and that the following one of Paris should be given to Helen. That Cressida wanted to separate Paris from Helen, or that the beauty of Cressida had any power over Paris, are circumstances not evident from the play. The one is the opinion of Dr. Warburton, the other a conjecture of Mr. Heath's. By giving, however, this line,— “I'll lay my life with my disposer Cressida,” to Helen, and by changing the word disposer into deposer, some meaning may be obtained. She addresses herself, I suppose, to Pandarus, and, by her deposer, means—she who thinks her beauty, (or, whose beauty you suppose) to be superior to mine. But the passage in question (as Arthur says of himself in King John,) is “not worth the coil that is made for it.” The word—disposer, however, occurs in The Epistle Dedicatorie to Chapman's Homer: “Nor let her poore disposer (learning) lie “Still bed-rid.” Steevens. The dialogue should perhaps be regulated thus: “Par. Where sups he to-night? “Helen. Nay, but my lord,— “Pan. What says my sweet queen? “Par. My cousin will fall out with you. [To Helen. “Pan. You must not know where he sups. [To Paris. “Helen. I'll lay my life with my deposer Cressida.” She calls Cressida her deposer, because she had deposed her in the affections of Troilus, whom Pandarus, in a preceding scene, is ready to swear she loved more than Paris. Ritson.

Note return to page 652 8&lblank; you are wide;] i. e. wide of your mark; a common exclamation when an archer missed his aim. So, in Spenser's State of Ireland: “Surely he shoots wide on the bow-hand, and very far from the mark.” Steevens.

Note return to page 653 9Par. I spy.] This is the usual exclamation at a childish game called Hie, spy, hie. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 1Falling in, after falling out, &c.] i. e. the reconciliation and wanton dalliance of two lovers after a quarrel, may produce a child, and so make three of two. Tollet.

Note return to page 655 2&lblank; sweet lord,] In the quarto—sweet lad. Johnson.

Note return to page 656 3&lblank; a fine forehead.] Perhaps, considering the character of Pandarus, Helen means that he has a forehead illuminated by eruptions. To these Falstaff has already given the splendid names of—brooches, pearls, and ouches. See notes on King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 657 4The shaft confounds &lblank;] To confound, it has already been observed, formerly meant to destroy. Malone.

Note return to page 658 5&lblank; that it wounds,] i. e. that which it wounds. Musgrave. Both Malone and Musgrave have mistaken the sense of this passage. Pandarus means to say, that “the shaft confounds,” not because the wounds it gives are severe, but because “it tickles still the sore.” To confound does not signify here to destroy, but to annoy or perplex; and “that it wounds” does not mean “that which it wounds,” but in that it wounds, or because it wounds. M. Mason.

Note return to page 659 6These lovers cry—Oh! Oh! they die! Yet that which seems the wound to kill, Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! So dying love lives still:] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “For I have heard, it [love] is a life in death, “That laughs and weeps, and all but in a breath!” Malone. “The wound to kill” may mean ‘the wound that seems mortal.’ Johnson. “The wound to kill” is the ‘killing wound.’ M. Mason. A passage in Massinger's Fatal Dowry may prove the aptest comment on the third line of this despicable ditty: “Beaumelle. [Within.] Ha ha! ha! “Charalois. How's this? It is my lady's laugh— “When first I pleas'd her, in this merry language “She gave me thanks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 7&lblank; a generation of vipers?] Here is an apparent allusion to the whimsical physiology of Shakspeare's age. Thus, says Thomas Lupton, in The Seventh Booke of Notable Thinges, 4to. bl. l.: “The female vyper doth open her mouth to receyve ye generative &c. of the male vyper, which receyved, she doth byte off his head. This is the maner of the froward generating of vypers. And, after that, the young vipers that springs of the same, do eate or gnaw asunder their mother's belly, therby comming or bursting forth. And so they (being revengers of theyr father's injurye) do kyll theyr owne mother. You may see, they were a towardly kynde of people, that were called the generation of vipers.” St. Matthew, iii. 7, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 661 8Pan. Is this the generation of love? &c.—Sweet lord, who's a-field to-day?] However Pan. may have got shuffled to the head of this speech, no more of it, I am confident, than the last five or six words belongs to that character. The rest is clearly Helen's. Ritson.

Note return to page 662 9&lblank; above thought I love thee.] So in Antony and Cleopatra: “She's cunning past man's thought.” Steevens. These words are given in the folio as the conclusion of Helen's speech: in the quarto to Paris, but with this variation: “Sweet, above thought I love her.” Boswell.

Note return to page 663 1&lblank; tun'd too sharp &lblank;] So the quarto, and more accurately than the folio, which has—and too sharp. Johnson. The quarto has to instead of too. Malone.

Note return to page 664 2That I shall lose distinction in my joys;] Thus, in Sappho's Epistle to Phaon: &lblank; ubi jam amborum fuerat confusa voluptas. Steevens.

Note return to page 665 3&lblank; frayed &lblank;] i. e. frighted. So, in Chapman's version of the 21st Iliad. “&lblank; all the massacres “Left for the Greeks, could put on looks of no more overthrow “Than now fray'd life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 666 *Thus the quarto; first folio, so short.

Note return to page 667 4Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom:] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; rash-embraced despair.” Malone.

Note return to page 668 5Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring The eye of majesty.] Mr. Rowe seems to have imitated this passage in his Ambitious Stepmother, Act I.: “Well may the ignoble herd “Start, if with heedless steps they unawares “Tread on the lion's walk: a prince's genius “Awes with superior greatness all beneath him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 669 6&lblank; you must be watched ere you be made tame,] Alluding to the manner of taming hawks. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “&lblank; to watch her as we watch these kites.” Steevens. Hawks were tamed by being kept from sleep, and thus Pandarus means that Cressida should be tamed. Malone.

Note return to page 670 7&lblank; i'the fills.] That is, in the shafts. Fill is a provincial word used in some counties for thills, the shafts of a cart or waggon. See vol. v. p. 43, n. 9. The editor of the second folio, for fills, the reading of the first folio, substituted files, which has been adopted in all the modern editions. The quarto has filles, which is only the more ancient spelling of fills. The words “draw backward” show that the original is the true reading. Malone. Sir T. Hanmer supports the reading of the second folio, by saying—put you in the files, “alludes to the custom of putting men suspected of cowardice [i. e. of drawing backward,] in the middle places.” Thus, Homer, Iliad IV. 299: &lblank; &grk;&gra;&grk;&gro;&grug;&grst; &grd;&grap; &gres;&grst; &grm;&grea;&grs;&grs;&gro;&grn; &gresa;&grl;&gra;&grs;&grs;&gre;&grn;, &GROsa;&grf;&grf;&gra; &grk;&gra;&grig; &gro;&grusg;&grk; &gres;&grq;&grea;&grl;&grw;&grn; &grt;&gri;&grst; &gras;&grn;&gra;&grg;&grk;&gra;&gria;&grh; &grp;&gro;&grl;&gre;&grm;&gria;&grz;&gro;&gri;. Steevens. The word files does not mean the middle places, but the ranks. The common soldiers of an army are called the rank and file; and when the serjeants or corporals misbehave, it is usual to punish them by reducing them to the files, that is, to the rank of private men. To draw backward, is merely to fall back, and has no reference to drawing in a carriage. M. Mason.

Note return to page 671 8Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your picture.] It should seem, from these words, that Cressida, like Olivia in Twelfth-Night, was intended to come in veiled. Pandarus however had, as usual, a double meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 672 9So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress.] The allusion is to bowling. What we now call the jack, seems, in Shakspeare's time, to have been termed the mistress. A bowl that kisses the jack or mistress, is in the most advantageous situation. Rub on is a term at the same game. So, in No Wit Like a Woman's, a comedy, by Middleton, 1657: “&lblank; So, a fair riddance; “There's three rubs gone; I've a clear way to the mistress.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “Mini. Since he hath hit the mistress so often in the fore-game, we'll even play out the rubbers. “Sir Vaugh. Play out your rubbers in God's name; by Jesu I'll never bowl in your alley.” Malone. An instance to the same effect was long ago suggested in a note on Cymbeline, Act II. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 673 1&lblank; a kiss in fee-farm!] Is a kiss of a duration that has no pounds; a fee-farm being a grant of lands in fee, that is, for ever, reserving a certain rent. Malone. How much more poetically is the same idea expressed in Coriolanus, when the jargon of law was absent from our author's thoughts! “&lblank; O, a kiss, “Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!” Steevens.

Note return to page 674 2&lblank; build there, carpenter; the air is sweet.] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; does approve “By his lov'd mansionry, that heaven's breath “Smells wooingly here.” Steevens.

Note return to page 675 3The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i'the river:] Pandarus means, that he'll match his niece against her lover for any bett. The tercel is the male hawk; by the falcon we generally understand the female. Theobald. I think we should rather read:—at the tercel—. Tyrwhitt. In Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, l. iv. 410, is the following stanza, from which Shakspeare may have caught a glimpse of meaning, though he has not very clearly expressed it. Pandarus is the speaker: “What? God forbid, alway that eche plesaunce   “In o thing were, and in non othir wight; “If one can singe, anothir can wel daunce,   “If this be godely, she is glad and light,   “And this is faire, and that can gode aright;     “Eche for his vertue holdin is full dere,     “Both heroner and faucon for rivere.” Again, in Fenton's Tragicall Discourses, bl. l. 4to. 1567: “&lblank; how is that possible to make a froward kite a forward hawke to the ryver?” P. 159, b. Mr. M. Mason observes, that the meaning of this difficult passage is, “I will back the falcon against the tiercel, I will wager that the falcon is equal to the tiercel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 676 4&lblank; the parties interchangeably &lblank;] have set their hands and seals. So afterwards: “Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it.” Shakspeare appears to have had here an idea in his thoughts that he has often expressed. So, in Measure for Measure: “But my kisses bring again, “Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, “What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?” So, in King John: “Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, “As seal to the indenture of my love.” So also, in Greene's Arcadia: “Even with that kiss, as once my father did, “I seal the sweet indentures of delight.” Malone.

Note return to page 677 5&lblank; if my fears have eyes.] The old copies have—tears. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 678 6&lblank; no fear: in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.] From this passage, however, a Fear appears to have been a personage in other pageants; or perhaps in our ancient moralities. To this circumstance Aspatia alludes in The Maid's Tragedy: “&lblank; and then a Fear: “Do that Fear bravely, wench.” See also Antony and Cleopatra, Act II. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 679 7&lblank; weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers;] Here we have, not a Trojan prince talking to his mistress, but Orlando Furioso vowing that he will endure every calamity that can be imagined; boasting that he will achieve more than ever knight performed. Malone.

Note return to page 680 8&lblank; our head shall go bare, till merit crown it:] I cannot forbear to observe, that the quarto reads thus: “Our head shall go bare, till merit louer part no affection, in reversion,” &c. Had there been no other copy, how could this have been corrected? The true reading is in the folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 681 9&lblank; his addition shall be humble.] We will give him no high or pompous titles. Johnson. Addition is still the term used by conveyancers in describing the quality and condition of the parties to deeds, &c. Reed.

Note return to page 682 1&lblank; what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his truth;] i. e. shall be only a mock for his truth. Even malice (for such is the meaning of the word envy) shall not be able to impeach his truth, or attack him in any other way, except by ridiculing him for his constancy. See vol. v. p. 108. Malone.

Note return to page 683 2&lblank; they'll stick where they are thrown.] This allusion has already occurred in Measure for Measure: “Nay, friar, I am a kind of bur, I shall stick.” Steevens.

Note return to page 684 3Cunning in dumbness,] The quarto and folio read—Coming in dumbness. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 685 4Let me go and try:] This verse being imperfect, I suppose our author to have originally written: “Let me go in, my lord, and try.” Steevens.

Note return to page 686 5I have a kind of self resides with you;] So, in our author's 123d Sonnet: “&lblank; for I, being pent in thee, “Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.” Malone. A similar thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 687 6&lblank; I would be gone: &lblank; Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.] Thus the quartos. The folio reads: “To be another's fool. Where is my wit? “I would be gone. I speak I know not what.” Malone.

Note return to page 688 7&lblank; But you are wise; Or else you love not; For to be wise, and love, Exceeds man's might; &c.] I read: “&lblank; but we're not wise, “Or else we love not; to be wise, and love, “Exceeds man's might;—” Cressida, in return to the praise given by Troilus to her wisdom, replies: “That lovers are never wise; that it is beyond the power of man to bring love and wisdom to an union.” Johnson. I don't think that this passage requires any amendment. Cressida's meaning is this: “Perchance I fell too roundly to confession, in order to angle for your thoughts; but you are not so easily taken in; you are too wise, or too indifferent; for to be wise and love, exceeds man's might.” “&lblank; to be wise and love, “Exceeds man's might.” This is from Spenser, Shepherd's Calendar, March: “To be wise, and eke to love, “Is granted scarce to gods above.” Tyrwhitt. This thought originally belongs to Publius Syrus, among whose sentences we find this: Amare et sapere vix Deo conceditur. Marston, in the Dutch Courtezan, 1605, has the same thought, and the line is printed as a quotation: “But raging lust my fate all strong doth move; “The gods themselves cannot be wise, and love.” Cressida's argument is certainly inconsequential: “But you are wise, or else you are not in love; for no one who is in love can be wise.” I do not, however, believe there is any corruption, as our author sometimes entangles himself in inextricable difficulties of this kind. One of the commentators has endeavoured to extort sense from the words as they stand, and thinks there is no difficulty. In these cases, the surest way to prove the inaccuracy, is, to omit the word that embarrasses the sentence. Thus, if, for a moment, we read: “&lblank; But you are wise; “Or else you love; for to be wise, and love, “Exceeds man's might;” &c. the inference is clear, by the omission of the word not: which is not a word of so little importance that a sentence shall have just the same meaning whether a negative is contained in it or taken from it. But for all inaccuracies of this kind our poet himself is undoubtedly answerable.—Sir T. Hanmer, to obtain some sense, arbitrarily reads: “A sign you love not.” Malone.

Note return to page 689 8To feed for aye her lamp, &c.] Troilus alludes to the perpetual lamps which were supposed to illuminate sepulchres: “&lblank; lasting flames, that burn “To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.” See my note on Pericles, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 690 9&lblank; swifter than blood decays!] Blood, in Shakspeare, frequently means desire, appetite. Malone. In the present instance, the word blood has its common signification. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “Time hath not yet so dry'd this blood &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 691 1Might be affronted with the match &lblank;] I wish “my integrity might be met and matched with such equality and force of pure unmingled love.” Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; that he, as 'twere by accident, may here “Affront Ophelia.” Steevens.

Note return to page 692 2And simpler than the infancy of truth,] This is fine; and means, “Ere truth, to defend itself against deceit in the commerce of the world, had, out of necessity, learned worldly policy.” Warburton.

Note return to page 693 3&lblank; compare,] i. e. comparison. So Milton, Paradise Lost, b. iii.: “Beyond compare the son of God was seen &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 694 4True swains in love shall, in the world to come, Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath, and big compare, Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration,—] The metre, as well as the sense, of the last verse, will be improved, I think, by reading: “Want similes of truth, tir'd with iteration &lblank;.” So, a little lower in the same speech: “Yet after all comparisons of truth.” Tyrwhitt. This is a very probable conjecture. Truth at present has no verb to which it can relate. Malone.

Note return to page 695 5As true as steel,] As true as steel is an ancient proverbial simile. I find it in Lydgate's Troy Book, where he speaks of Troilus, l. ii. c. xvi.: “Thereto in love trewe as any stele.” Virgil, Æneid vii. 640, applies a similar epithet to a sword: “&lblank; fidoque accingitur ense.” i. e. a weapon in the metal of which he could confide: a trusty blade. It should be observed, however, that Geo. Gascoigne, in his Steele Glass, 1576, bestows the same character on his Mirrour: “&lblank; this poore glass which is of trustie steele.” Again: “&lblank; that steele both trusty was and true.” Steevens. Mirrors formerly being made of steel, I once thought the meaning might be, “as true as the mirror, which faithfully exhibits every image that is presented before it.” But I now think with Mr. Steevens, that “As true as steel” was merely a proverbial expression, without any such allusion. A passage in an old piece entitled The Pleasures of Poetry, no date, but printed in the time of Queen Elizabeth, will admit either interpretation: “Behold in her the lively glasse, “The pattern, true as steel.” Malone.

Note return to page 696 6&lblank; as plantage to the moon,] Alluding to the common opinion of the influence the moon has over what is planted or sown, which was therefore done in the increase: Rite Latonæ puerum canentes, Rite crescentem face noctilucam, Prosperam frugum—. Hor. Lib. iv. Od. vi. Warburton. Plantage is not, I believe, a general term, but the herb which we now call plantain, in Latin, plantago, which was, I suppose, imagined to be under the peculiar influence of the moon. Johnson. Shakspeare speaks of plantain by its common appellation in Romeo and Juliet; and yet, in Sapho and Phao, 1591, Mandrake is called Mandrage: “Sow next thy vines mandrage.” From a book entitled The Profitable Art of Gardening, &c. by Tho. Hill, Londoner, the third edition, printed in 1579, I learn, that neither sowing, planting, nor grafting, were ever undertaken without a scrupulous attention to the increase or waning of the moon.—Dryden does not appear to have understood the passage, and has therefore altered it thus: “As true as flowing tides are to the moon.” Steevens. This may be fully illustrated by a quotation from Scott's Discoverie of Witchcraft: “The poore husbandman perceiveth that the increase of the moone maketh plants frutefull: so as in the full moone they are in the best strength; decaieing in the wane; and in the conjunction do utterlie wither and vade.” Farmer.

Note return to page 697 7An iron to adamant,] So, in Greene's Tu Quoque, 1614: “As true to thee as steel to adamant.” Malone.

Note return to page 698 8As truth's authentick author to be cited,] Troilus shall crown the verse, as a man “to be cited as the authentick author of truth;” as one whose protestations were true to a proverb. Johnson.

Note return to page 699 9&lblank; crown up the verse,] i. e. conclude it. Finis coronat opus. So, in Chapman's version of the second Iliad: “We flie, not putting on the crowne of our so long-held warre.” Steevens.

Note return to page 700 1And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,] So, in King Richard III. quarto, 1598: “And almost shoulder'd in this swallowing gulph “Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion.” Malone.

Note return to page 701 2Tro. &lblank; when their rhymes, &lblank; Want similes &lblank; As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse &lblank; Cres. &lblank; Yea, let them say &lblank; As false as Cressid.] This antithesis of praise and censure appears to have found an imitator in Edmund Smith, the author of Phædra and Hippolytus: “Theseus. &lblank; “And when aspiring bards, in daring strains, “Shall raise some matron to the heavenly powers, “They'll say, she's great, she's true, she's chaste as Phædra. “Phædra. &lblank; “And when th' avenging muse with pointed rage, “Would sink some impious woman down to hell, “They'll say, she's false, she's base, she's foul as Phædra.” Act V. Steevens

Note return to page 702 3&lblank; constant men &lblank;] Though Sir T. Hanmer's emendation [inconstant] be plausible, I believe Shakspeare wrote—constant. He seems to have been less attentive to make Pandar talk consequentially, than to account for the ideas actually annexed to the three names. Now it is certain that, in his time, a Troilus was as clear an expression for a constant lover, as a Cressida and a Pandar were for a jilt and a pimp. Tyrwhitt. I entirely agree with Mr. Tyrwhitt, and am happy to have his opinion in support of the reading of the old copy, from which, in my apprehension, we ought not to deviate, except in cases of extreme necessity. Of the assertion in the latter part of his note, relative to the constancy of Troilus, various proofs are furnished by our old poets. So, in A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions, &c. 4to. 1578: “But if thou me forsake,   “As Cressid that forgot “True Troilus, her make,” &c. Again, ibid.: “As Troilus' truth shall be my shield,   “To kepe my pen from blame, “So Cressid's crafte shall kepe the field,   “For to resound thy shame.” Mr. M. Mason objects, that constant cannot be the true reading, because Pandarus has already supposed that they should both prove false to each other, and it would therefore be absurd for him to say that Troilus should be quoted as an example of constancy. But to this the answer is, that Shakspeare himself knew what the event of the story was, and who the person was that did prove false; that many expressions in his plays have dropped from him, in consequence of that knowledge, that are improper in the mouth of the speaker; and that, in his licentious mode of writing, the words, “if ever you prove false to one another,” may mean, not, if you both prove false, but, “if it should happen that any falsehood or breach of faith should disunite you, who are now thus attached to each other.” This might and did happen, by one of the parties proving false, and breaking her engagement. The modern editions read—if ever you prove false to one another; but the reading of the text is that of the quarto and folio, and was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. Malone. It is clearly the intention of the poet that this imprecation should be such a one as was verified by the event, as it is in part to this very day. But neither was Troilus ever used to denote an inconstant lover, nor, if we believe the story, did he ever deserve the character, as both the others did in truth deserve that shame here imprecated upon them. Besides, Pandarus seems to adjust his imprecation to those of the other two preceding, just as they dropped from their lips; as false as Cressid, and, consequently, as true (or as constant) as Troilus. Heath.

Note return to page 703 4&lblank; and a bed,] These words are not in the old copy, but what follows shows that they were inadvertently omitted. Malone. This deficiency was supplied by Sir Thomas Hanmer. He reads, however, “&lblank; a chamber with a bed; which bed, because” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 704 5&lblank; Appear it to your mind,] Sir Thomas Hanmer, very properly in my opinion, reduces this line to measure, by reading: “&lblank; Appear it to you &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 705 6&lblank; through the sight I bear in things, to Jove, &c.] This passage, in all the modern editions, is silently depraved, and printed thus: “&lblank; through the sight I bear in things to come, &lblank;” The word is so printed that nothing but the sense can determine whether it be love or Jove. I believe that the editors read it as love, and therefore made the alteration to obtain some meaning. Johnson. I do not perceive why love, the clear and evident reading of both the quartos and folios, should be passed over without some attempt to explain it. In my opinion it may signify—“No longer assisting Troy with my advice, I have left it to the dominion of love, to the consequences of the amour of Paris and Helen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 706 7That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove I have abandon'd Troy, &c.] This reasoning perplexes Mr. Theobald: “He foresaw his country was undone; he ran over to the Greeks; and this he makes a merit of (says the editor). I own (continues he) the motives of his oratory seem to be somewhat perverse and unnatural. Nor do I know how to reconcile it, unless our poet purposely intended to make Calchas act the part of a true priest, and so from motives of self-interest insinuate the merit of service.” The editor did not know how to reconcile this. Nor I neither. For I do not know what he means by “the motives of his oratory,” or, “from motives of self-interest to insinuate merit.” But if he would insinuate, that it was the poet's design to make his priest self-interested, and to represent to the Greeks that what he did for his own preservation, was done for their service, he is mistaken. Shakspeare thought of nothing so silly, as it would be to draw his priest a knave, in order to make him talk like a fool. Though that be the fate which generally attends their abusers. But Shakspeare was no such; and consequently wanted not this cover for dulness. The perverseness is all the editor's own, who interprets, “&lblank; through the sight I have in things to come, “I have abandon'd Troy, &lblank;” to signify, “by my power of prescience finding my country must be ruined, I have therefore abandoned it to seek refuge with you;” whereas the true sense is, “Be it known unto you, that on account of a gift or faculty I have of seeing things to come, which faculty I suppose would be esteemed by you as acceptable and useful, I have abandoned Troy my native country.” That he could not mean what the editor supposes, appears from these considerations: First, if he had represented himself as running from a falling city, he could never have said: “I have—expos'd myself, “From certain and possess'd conveniencies, “To doubtful fortunes &lblank;.” Secondly, the absolute knowledge of the fall of Troy was a secret hid from the inferior gods themselves; as appears from the poetical history of that war. It depended on many contigencies, whose existence they did not foresee. All that they knew was, that if such and such things happened, Troy would fall. And this secret they communicated to Cassandra only, but along with it, the fate not to be believed. Several others knew each a several part of the secret; one, that Troy could not be taken unless Achilles went to the war; another, that it could not fall while it had the palladium; and so on. But the secret, that it was absolutely to fall, was known to none.—The sense here given will admit of no dispute among those who know how acceptable a seer was amongst the Greeks. So that this Calchas, like a true priest, if it needs must be so, went where he could exercise his profession with most advantage. For it being much less common amongst the Greeks than the Asiaticks, there would be a greater demand for it. Warburton. I am afraid, that after all the learned commentator's efforts to clear the argument of Calchas, it will still appear liable to objection; nor do I discover more to be urged in his defence, than that though his skill in divination determined him to leave Troy, yet that he joined himself to Agamemnon and his army by unconstrained good-will; and though he came as a fugitive escaping from destruction, yet his services after his reception, being voluntary and important, deserved reward. This argument is not regularly and distinctly deduced, but this is, I think, the best explication that it will yet admit. Johnson. In p. 234, n. 4, an account has been given of the motives which induced Calchas to abandon Troy. The services to which he alludes, a short quotation from Lydgate will sufficiently explain. Auncient Hist. &c. 1555: “He entred into the oratorye,— “And besily gan to knele and praye, “And his things devoutly for to saye, “And to the god crye and call full stronge; “And for Apollo would not tho prolonge, “Sodaynly his answere gan attame, “And sayd Calchas twies by his name; “Be right well 'ware thou ne tourne agayne “To Troy towne, for that were but in vayne, “For finally lerne this thynge of me, “In shorte tyme it shall destroyed be: “This is in sooth, whych may not be denied. “Wherefore I will that thou be alyed “With the Greekes, and with Achilles go “To them anone; my will is, it be so:— “For thou to them shall be necessary, “In counseling and in giving rede, “And be right helping to their good spede.” Mr. Theobald thinks it strange that Calchas should claim any merit for having joined the Greeks after he had said that he knew his country was undone; but there is no inconsistency: he had left, from whatever cause, what was dear to him, his country, friends, children, &c. and, having joined and served the Greeks, was entitled to protection and reward. On the phrase—“As new into the world,” (for so the old copy reads,) I must observe, that it appeares from a great number of passages in our old writers, the word into was formerly often used in the sense of unto, as it evidently is here. In proof of this assertion the following passages may be adduced: “It was a pretty part in the old church-playes when the nimble Vice would skip up nimbly like a jackanapes into the devil's necke, and ride the devil a course.” Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures, 4to. 1602. Again, in a letter written by J. Paston, July 8, 1468; Paston Letters, vol. ii. p. 5: “&lblank; and they that have justed with him into this day, have been as richly beseen,” &c. Again, in Laneham's Account of the Entertainment at Kenelworth, 1575: “&lblank; what time it pleased her to ryde forth into the chase, to hunt the hart of fors; which found, anon,” &c. Chase, indeed, may mean here, the place in which the Queen hunted; but I believe it is employed in the more ordinary sense. Again, in Daniel's Civil Warres, b. iv. st. 72, edit. 1602: “She doth conspire to have him made away,— “Thrust thereinto not only with her pride, “But by her father's counsell and consent.” Again, in our author's All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; I'll stay at home, “And pray God's blessing into thy attempt.” Malone. The folio reads— “&lblank; in things to love,” which appears to me to have no meaning, unless we adopt the explanation of Mr. Steevens, which would make sense of it. The present reading, though supported by Johnson and Malone, is little better than nonsense, and there is this objection to it, that it was Juno, not Jove, that persecuted the Trojans. Jove wished them well; and though we may abandon a man to his enemies, we cannot, with propriety, say, that we abandon him to his friends. Let me add, that the speech of Calchas would have been incomplete, if he had said that he abandoned Troy, from the sight he bore of things, without explaining it by adding the words—to come. I should, therefore, adhere to that reading, which I consider as one of those happy amendments which do not require any authority to support them. The merit of Calchas did not merely consist in his having come over to the Greeks; he also revealed to them the fate of Troy, which depended on their conveying away the palladium, and the horses of Rhesus, before they should drink of the river Xanthus. M. Mason.

Note return to page 707 8&lblank; Antenor,] Very few particulars respecting this Trojan are preserved by Homer. But as Professor Heyne, in his seventh Excursus to the first Æneid, observes, “Fuit Antenor inter eos, in quorum rebus ornandis ii maxime scriptores laborarunt, qui narrationes Homericas novis commentis de suo onerarunt; non aliter ac si delectatio a mere fabulosis et temeré effusis figmentis proficisceretur.” Steevens.

Note return to page 708 9&lblank; such a wrest in their affairs,] According to Dr. Johnson, who quotes this line in his Dictionary, the meaning is, that the loss of Antenor is such a violent distortion of their affairs, &c. But as in a former scene (p. 265—see n. 2,) we had o'er-rested for o'er-wrested, so here I strongly suspect wrest has been printed instead of rest. Antenor is such a stay or support of their affairs, &c. All the ancient English muskets had rests by which they were supported. The subsequent words—wanting his manage, appear to me to confirm the emendation. To say that Antenor himself (for so the passage runs, not the loss of Antenor,) is a violent distortion of the Trojan negociations, is little better than nonsense. Malone. I have been informed that a wrest anciently signified a sort of tuning-hammer, by which the strings of some musical instruments were screwed or wrested up to their proper degree of tension. Antenor's advice might be supposed to produce a congenial effect on the Trojan councils, which otherwise “&lblank; must slack, “Wanting his manage &lblank;.” Steevens. Wrest is not misprinted for rest, as Mr. Malone supposes, in his correction of Dr. Johnson, who has certainly mistaken the sense of this word. It means an instrument for tuning the harp by drawing up the strings. Laneham, in his Letter from Kenilworth, p. 50, describing a minstrel, says, “his harp in good grace dependaunt before him; his wreast tyed to a green lace and hanging by.” And again, in Wynne's History of the Gwedir Family: “And setting forth very early before day, unwittingly carried upon his finger the wrest of his cosen's harpe.” To wrest, is to wind. See Minsheu's Dictionary. The form of the wrest may be seen in some of the illuminated service books, wherein David is represented playing on his harp; in the second part of Mersenna's Harmonies, p. 69: and in the Syntagmata of Prætorius, vol. ii. fig. xix. Douce.

Note return to page 709 1In most accepted pain.] Sir T. Hanmer, and Dr. Warburton after him, read: “In most accepted pay.” They do not seem to understand the construction of the passage. Her presence, says Calchas, shall strike off, or recompense the service I have done, even in those labours which were most accepted.

Note return to page 710 2Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him:] If the eyes were bent on him, they were turn'd on him. This tautology, therefore, together with the redundancy of the line, plainly show that we ought to read, with Sir Thomas Hanmer; “Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him.—” Steevens.

Note return to page 711 3Good morrow.] Perhaps, in this repetition of the salute, we should read, as in the preceding instance,—Good morrow, Ajax; or, with more colloquial spirit,—I say, good morrow. Otherwise the metre is defective. Steevens.

Note return to page 712 4&lblank; but honour &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The folio reads—but honour'd. Malone.

Note return to page 713 5&lblank; how dearly ever parted,] However excellently endowed, with however dear or precious parts enriched or adorned. Johnson. Johnson's explanation of the word parted is just. So, in Ben Johnson's Every Man out of his Humour, he describes Macilente as a man well parted; and in Massinger's Great Duke of Florence, Sanazarro says of Lydia: “And I, my lord, chose rather “To deliver her better parted than she is, “Than to take from her.” M. Mason. So, in a subsequent passage: “&lblank; no man is the lord of any thing, “(Though in and of him there is much consisting,) “Till he communicate his parts to others.” Malone.

Note return to page 714 *Quarto, ayming.

Note return to page 715 6&lblank; nor doth the eye itself, &c.] So, in Julius Cæsar: “No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, “But by reflexion, by some other things.” Steevens.

Note return to page 716 7To others' eyes: &lblank; (That most pure spirit, &c.] These two lines are totally omitted in all the editions but the first quarto. Pope.

Note return to page 717 8For speculation turns not, &c.] Speculation has here the same meaning as in Macbeth: “Thou hast no speculation in those eyes “Which thou dost glare with.” Malone.

Note return to page 718 9&lblank; in his circumstance,] In the detail or circumduction of his argument. Johnson.

Note return to page 719 1&lblank; which, like &lblank;] Old copies—who, like—. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. The folio and quarto concur in reading “who like an arch reverberate;” i. e. They who applaud reverberate. This elliptick mode of expression is in our author's manner. Boswell.

Note return to page 720 2&lblank; a gate of steel Fronting the sun,] This idea appears to have been caught from some of our ancient romances, which often describe gates of similar materials and effulgence. Steevens.

Note return to page 721 3The unknown Ajax.] Ajax, who has abilities, which were never brought into view or use. Johnson.

Note return to page 722 4&lblank; Now shall we see to-morrow, An act that very chance doth throw upon him, Ajax renown'd.] I once thought that we ought to read renown. But by considering the middle line as parenthetical, the passage is sufficiently clear. Malone. By placing a break after him, the construction will be:—‘Now we shall see to-morrow an act that very chance doth throw upon him—[we shall see] Ajax renown'd.’ Henley.

Note return to page 723 5How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,] To creep is to keep out of sight from whatever motive. Some men keep out of notice in the hall of fortune, while others, though they but play the idiot, are always in her eye, in the way of distinction. Johnson. I cannot think that creep, used without any explanatory word, can mean to keep out of sight. While some men, says Ulysses, remain tamely inactive in fortune's hall, without any effort to excite her attention, others, &c. Such, I think, is the meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 724 6&lblank; fasting &lblank;] Quarto. The folio has feasting. Either word may bear a good sense. Johnson. I have preferred fasting, the reading of the quarto, to feasting, which we find in the folio, not only because the quarto copies are in general preferable to the folio, but because the original reading furnishes that kind of antithesis of which our poet was so fond. One man eats, while another fasts. Achilles is he who fasts; who capriciously abstains from those active exertions which would furnish new food for his pride. Malone.

Note return to page 725 7And great Troy shrieking.] Thus the quarto. The folio has, less poetically,—shrinking. The following passage in the subsequent scene supports the reading of the quarto: “Hark, how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out; “How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth; “And all cry—Hector, Hector's dead.” Malone. I prefer the reading of the folio. That the collective body of martial Trojans should shrink at sight of their hero's danger, is surely more natural to be supposed, than that, like frighted women, they would unite in a general shriek. As to what Cassandra says, in the preceding note,—it is the fate of that lady's evidence—never to be received. Steevens. Cassandra's prophecies were not believed, but they were nevertheless true. Malone.

Note return to page 726 8Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,] This speech is printed in all the modern editions with such deviations from the old copy, as exceed the lawful power of an editor. Johnson. This image is literally from Spenser: “And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare— “&lblank; “And in this bag, which I behinde me don, “I put repentaunce for things past and gone.” Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. viii. st. 24. Boaden.

Note return to page 727 9&lblank; to the abject rear,] So Hanmer. All the editors before him read—to the abject, near. Johnson.

Note return to page 728 1O'er-run, &c.] The quarto wholly omits the simile of the horse, and reads thus: “And leave you hindmost, then what they do at present &lblank;.” The folio seems to have some omission, for the simile begins, “Or, like a gallant horse &lblank;.” Johnson. The construction is, ‘Or, like a gallant horse, &c. you lie there for pavement &lblank;;’ the personal pronoun of a preceding line being understood here. There are many other passages in these plays in which a similar ellipsis is found. So, in this play, p. 347: “&lblank; but commends itself,” instead of “but it commends itself.” Malone.

Note return to page 729 2&lblank; Welcome ever smiles,] The compositor inadvertently repeated the word the, which has just occurred, and printed—the welcome, &c. The emendation was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 730 3For beauty, wit, &c.] The modern editors read: “For beauty, wit, high birth, desert in service,” &c. I do not deny but the changes produce a more easy lapse of numbers, but they do not exhibit the work of Shakspeare. Johnson. Dr. Johnson might have said,—the work of Shakspeare, as mangled by theatres, ignorant transcribers, and unskilful printers. He has somewhere else observed, that perhaps we have not received one of our author's plays as it was originally written. Steevens.

Note return to page 731 4And give to dust, that is a little gilt, More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.] [The old copies—goe to dust.] In this mangled condition do we find this truly fine observation transmitted. Mr. Pope saw it was corrupt, and therefore, as I presume, threw it out of the text; because he would not indulge his private sense in attempting to make sense of it. I owe the foundation of the amendment, which I have given in the text, to the sagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. I read: “And give to dust, that is a little gilt, “More laud than they will give to gold, o'er-dusted.” Theobald. This emendation has been adopted by the succeeding editors, but recedes too far from the copy. There is no other corruption than such as Shakspeare's incorrectness often resembles. He has omitted the article—to in the second line: he should have written: “More laud than to gilt o'er-dusted.” Johnson. Gilt, in the second line, is a substantive. See Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. III. Dust a little gilt means, ordinary performances ostentatiously displayed and magnified by the favour of friends and that admiration of novelty which prefers “new-born gawds” to “things past.” Gilt o'er-dusted means, splendid actions of preceding ages, the remembrance of which is weakened by time. The poet seems to have been thinking either of those monuments which he has mentioned in All's Well that Ends Well: “Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb “Of honour'd bones indeed;—” or of the gilded armour, trophies, banners, &c. often hung up in churches in “monumental mockery.” Malone.

Note return to page 732 5&lblank; went once on thee,] So the quarto. The folio—went out on thee. Malone.

Note return to page 733 6Made emulous missions &lblank;] The meaning of mission seems to be dispatches of the gods from heaven about mortal business, such as often happened at the siege of Troy. Johnson. It means the descent of deities to combat on either side; an idea which Shakspeare very probably adopted from Chapman's translation of Homer. In the fifth book, Diomed wounds Mars, who on his return to heaven is rated by Jupiter for having interfered in the battle. This disobedience is the faction which I suppose Ulysses would describe. Steevens.

Note return to page 734 7&lblank; one of Priam's daughters.] Polyxena, in the act of marrying whom, he was afterwards killed by Paris. Steevens.

Note return to page 735 8Ha! known?] I must suppose that, in the present instance, some word, wanting to the metre, has been omitted. Perhaps the poet wrote—Ha! is't known? Steevens.

Note return to page 736 9Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold;] For this elegant line the quarto has only: “Knows almost every thing.” Johnson. The old copy has—Pluto's gold; but, I think, we should read— of Plutus' gold. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster, Act IV.: “'Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold “Lock'd in the heart of earth &lblank;.” Steevens. The correction of this obvious error of the press, needs no justification, though it was not admitted by Mr. Steevens in his own edition. The same error is found in Julius Cæsar, Act IV. Sc. III. where it has been properly corrected: “&lblank; within, a heart, “Dearer than Pluto's mine, richer than gold.” So, in this play, Act IV. Sc. I. we find in the quarto—to Calcho's house, instead of, to Calchas' house. Malone.

Note return to page 737 1Keeps place with thought,] i. e. there is in the providence of a state, as in the providence of the universe, a kind of ubiquity. The expression is exquisitely fine; yet the Oxford editor alters it to—“Keeps pace,” and so destroys all its beauty. Warburton. Is there not here some allusion to that sublime description of the Divine Omnipresence in the 139th Psalm? Henley.

Note return to page 738 2Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.] It is clear, from the defect of the metre, that some word of two syllables was omitted by the carelessness of the transcriber or compositor. Shakspeare perhaps wrote: “Does thoughts themselves unveil in their dumb cradles.” Or, “Does infant thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.” So, in King Richard III.: “And turn his infant morn to aged night.” In Timon of Athens, we have the same allusion: “Joy had the like conception in my brain, “And at that instant, like a babe sprung up.” Malone. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “Does even our thoughts,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 739 3&lblank; (with whom relation Durst never meddle) &lblank;] There is a secret administration of affairs, which no history was ever able to discover. Johnson.

Note return to page 740 4All the commérce &lblank;] Thus also is the word accented by Chapman, in his version of the fourth book of Homer's Odyssey: “To labour's taste, nor the commérce of men.” Steevens.

Note return to page 741 5&lblank; to air.] So the quarto. The folio—ayrie air. Johnson.

Note return to page 742 6My fame is shrewdly gor'd.] So, in our author's 110th Sonnet: “Alas, 'tis true; I have gone here and there,— “Gor'd mine own thoughts &lblank;.” Malone. So also in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 507: “To keep thy name ungor'd &lblank;.” Boswell.

Note return to page 743 7Omission to do, &c.] By neglecting our duty we commission or enable that danger of dishonour, which could not reach us before, to lay hold upon us. Johnson.

Note return to page 744 8&lblank; with a politick regard,] With a sly look. Johnson.

Note return to page 745 9&lblank; it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking.] So, in Julius Cæsar: “That carries anger, as the flint bears fire; “Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, “And straight is cold again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 746 1&lblank; he wears his tongue in his arms.] So, in Macbeth: “My voice is in my sword.” Steevens.

Note return to page 747 *First folio, his demands.

Note return to page 748 2&lblank; to make catlings on.] It has been already observed that a catling signifies a small lute-string made of catgut. One of the musicians in Romeo and Juliet is called Simon Catling. Steevens.

Note return to page 749 3&lblank; the more capable creature.] The more intelligent creature. So, in King Richard III.: “Bold, forward, quick, ingenious, capable.” See also Henry VIII. Act V. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 750 4And I myself see not the bottom of it.] This is an image frequently introduced by our author. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “I see the bottom of Justice Shallow.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; we then should see the bottom “Of all our fortunes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 751 5&lblank; valiant sir,] The epithet—valiant, appears to have been caught by the compositor from the preceding speech, and is introduced here only to spoil the metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 752 6During all question of the gentle truce:] I once thought to read: “During all quiet of the gentle truce:” But I think question means intercourse, interchange of conversation. Johnson. See Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. IV. “Question of the gentle truce” is, ‘conversation while the gentle truce lasts.’ Malone.

Note return to page 753 7&lblank; By Venus' hand I swear,] This oath was used to insinuate his resentment for Diomedes' wounding his mother in the hand. Warburton. I believe Shakspeare had no such allusion in his thoughts. He would hardly have made Æneas civil and uncivil in the same breath. Steevens. He swears first by the life of his father, and then by the hand of his mother. Blakeway.

Note return to page 754 *First folio, despightful'st.

Note return to page 755 8His purpose meets you;] I bring you his meaning and his orders. Johnson.

Note return to page 756 †First folio, whereof.

Note return to page 757 9&lblank; a flat tamed piece;] i. e. a piece of wine out of which the spirit is all flown. Warburton. This word, with a somewhat similar sense, occurs in Coriolanus: “His remedies are tame i'the present peace. &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 758 1Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more; But he as he, the heavier for a whore.] I read: “But he as he, each heavier for a whore?” Heavy is taken both from weighty, and for sad, or miserable. The quarto reads: “But he as he, the heavier for a whore.” I know not whether the thought is not that of a wager. It must then be read thus: “But he as he. Which heavier, for a whore?” That is, “for a whore staked down, which is the heavier?” Johnson. As the quarto reads, “&lblank; the heavier for a whore,” I think all new pointing or alteration unnecessary. The sense appears to be this: the merits of either are sunk in value, because the contest between them is only for a strumpet. Steevens. The merits of each, whatever they may be, being weighed one against the other, are exactly equal; in each of the scales, however, in which their merits are to be weighed, a harlot must be placed, since each of them has been equally attached to one. This is the reading of the quarto. The folio reads, “&lblank; which heavier for a whore.” Malone.

Note return to page 759 2We'll not commend what we intend to sell.] I believe the meaning is only this: ‘though you practise the buyer's art, we will not practise the seller's. We intend to sell Helen dear, yet will not commend her.’ Johnson. Dr. Warburton would read—not sell. Steevens. The sense, I think, requires we should read—condemn. Tyrwhitt. When Dr. Johnson says, they meant “to sell Helen dear,” he evidently does not mean that they really intended to sell her at all, (as he has been understood,) but that the Greeks should pay very dear for her, if they had her. We'll not commend what we intend to make you pay very dear for, if you have her. So, Ajax says, in a former scene: “&lblank; however, he shall pay for me, ere he has me.” Commend is, I think, the true reading, our author having introduced a similar sentiment in two other places. In Love's Labour's Lost, we have— “To things of sale a seller's praise belongs.” Again, in his 21st Sonnet: “I will not praise that purpose not to sell.” This passage favours Dr. Warburton's emendation; but intend not sell sounds very harsh. However, many very harsh combinations may be found in these plays, where rhymes are introduced. Malone. Surely Dr. Warburton's reading is the true one: “We'll not commend what we intend not sell,” is evidently opposed to— “Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy:” in the same speech. Of such elliptical phraseology as is introduced by Dr. Warburton's emendation, our author's plays will afford numerous examples. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 3&lblank; Sleep kill &lblank;] So the old copies. The moderns have— “Sleep seal.” Johnson. Seal was one of the numerous innovations introduced by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 761 4And give as soft attachment to thy senses, As infants' empty of all thought!] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Sleep she as sound as careless infancy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 762 5&lblank; ribald crows,] See note on Antony and Cleopatra, Act III. Sc. VIII. Harris.

Note return to page 763 6&lblank; hide our joys &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The folio has—“hide our eyes.” Malone.

Note return to page 764 7&lblank; venomous wights &lblank;] i. e. venifici; those who practise nocturnal sorcery. Steevens.

Note return to page 765 7As tediously &lblank;] The folio has: “As hideously as hell.” Johnson. Sir T. Hanmer, for the sake of metre, with great probability, reads: “Tedious as hell,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 766 8Enter Pandarus.] The hint for the following short conversation between Pandarus and Cressida is taken from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, book iii. v. 1561: “Pandare, a morowe which that commen was   “Unto his necè, gan her faire to grete, “And saied all this night so rained it alas!   “That all my drede is, that ye, necè swete,   “Have little leisir had to slepe and mete,   “All night (quod he) hath rain so do me wake,   “That some of us I trowe their heddis ake, “Cresseide answerde, nevir the bet for you,   “Foxe that ye ben, God yeve your hertè care,   “God help me so, ye causid all this fare,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 767 9&lblank; to do,] To do is here used in a wanton sense. So, in The Taming of The Shrew, Petruchio says: “I would fain be doing.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well, Lafeu declares that he is “past doing.” Collins. The following speech of Pandarus shows clearly that there is not the least ground for Collins's (i. e. Mr. Steevens's) observation. Boswell.

Note return to page 768 1&lblank; a poor capocchio!] Pandarus would say, I think, in English —“Poor innocent! Poor fool! hast not slept to-night?” These appellations are very well answered by the Italian word capocchio: for capocchio signifies the thick head of a club; and thence metaphorically, a head of not much brain, a sot, dullard, heavy gull. Theobald. The word in the old copy is chipochia, for which Mr. Theobald substituted capocchio, which he has rightly explained. In Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598, we find “Capocchio, a doult, a loggerhead, a foolish pate, a shallow skonce.” Malone.

Note return to page 769 2&lblank; as if &lblank;] Here, I believe, a common ellipsis has been destroyed by a playhouse interpolation: As, in ancient language, has frequently the power of—as if. I would therefore omit the latter conjunction, which encumbers the line without enforcing the sense. Thus, in Spenser's Fairy Queen: “That with the noise it shook as it would fall.” Steevens.

Note return to page 770 3&lblank; yet go fetch, &c.] Old copy redundantly—but yet, &c. Steevens. Mr. Steevens printed this speech as verse. Boswell.

Note return to page 771 4&lblank; matter is so rash:] My business is so hasty and so abrupt. Johnson. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; aconitum, or rash gunpowder.” Steevens. Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; “Too like the lightning,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 772 5Deliver'd to us, &c.] So the folio. The quarto thus: “Delivered to him, and forthwith.” Johnson.

Note return to page 773 6How my achievements mock me!] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “And mock our eyes with air.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 7We met by chance; you did not find me here.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “See where he is, who's with him, what he does: “I did not send you.” Malone.

Note return to page 775 8&lblank; the secrets of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity.] This is the reading of both the elder folios; but the first verse manifestly halts, and betrays its being defective. Mr. Pope substitutes: “&lblank; the secrets of neighbour Pandar.” If this be a reading ex fide codicum (as he professes all his various readings to be) it is founded on the credit of such copies as it has not been my fortune to meet with. I have ventured to make out the verse thus: “The secre'st things of nature,” &c. i. e. the arcana naturæ, the mysteries of nature, of occult philosophy, or of religious ceremonies. Our poet has allusions of this sort in several other passages. Theobald. Mr. Pope's reading is in the old quarto. So great is the necessity of collation. Johnson. I suppose the editor of the folio meant—the secretest of nature, and that secrets was an error of the press. So, in Macbeth: “The secret'st man of blood.” Malone. I suppose our author to have written—secrecies. A similar thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “In nature's infinite book of secrecy &lblank;.” Wherever there is redundant metre, as in the reading of the quarto, corruption may always be suspected. Steevens.

Note return to page 776 9I know no touch of consanguinity;] So, in Macbeth: “He wants the natural touch.” Touch of consanguinity is sense or feeling of relationship. Malone.

Note return to page 777 1&lblank; the very crown of falsehood,] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; my supreme crown of grief.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; the crown and comfort of my life.” Malone. See page 336, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 778 *First folio, extremitie.

Note return to page 779 2&lblank; the strong base and building of my love &lblank;] So, in our author's 119th Sonnet: “And ruin'd love, when it is built anew &lblank;.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Let not the piece of virtue, which is set “Betwixt us as the cement of our love, “To keep it builded, be the ram to batter “The fortress of it.” So, in the Comedy of Errors: “Shall love in building grow so ruinate?” Malone.

Note return to page 780 3&lblank; I will not go from Troy.] I believe the verb—go (which roughens this line) should be left out, in conformity to the ancient elliptical mode of writing, which, in like instances, omits it as unnecessary to sense. Thus, in p. 363, we find— “I would not from thee;” i. e. I would not go from thee. Steevens.

Note return to page 781 4&lblank; great morning;] Grand jour; a Gallicism. Steevens.

Note return to page 782 †So folio; quarto, For.

Note return to page 783 5Comes fast upon:] Though fast upon, only signifies—fast on, I must suppose, with Sir T. Hanmer, we ought to read: “Comes fast upon us:—” The metre, as it stands at present, is obviously defective. Steevens.

Note return to page 784 6Walk in to her house;] Here, I believe, we have an interpolation similar to those in p. 365 and in the preceding page. In elliptical language the word—walk (which in the present instance destroys the measure) is frequently omitted. So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “I'll in and haste the writer.” i. e. I'll walk, or go in. Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I'll in, I'll in: follow your friend's advice; I'll in.” In, therefore, in the speech of Troilus, will signify walk or go in, the omitted verb being understood. Steevens.

Note return to page 785 7The grief, &c.] The folio reads: “The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, “And no less in a sense as strong “As that which causeth it &lblank;.” The quarto otherwise: “The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, “And violenteth in a sense as strong “As that which causeth it &lblank;.” Violenteth is a word with which I am not acquainted, yet perhaps it may be right. The reading of the text is without authority. Johnson. I have followed the quarto. Violenceth is used by Ben Jonson, in The Devil is an Ass: “Nor nature violenceth in both these.” And Mr. Tollet has since furnished me with this verb as spelt in the play of Shakspeare: “His former adversaries violented any thing against him.” Fuller's Worthies in Anglesea. Dr. Farmer likewise adds the following instance from Latimer, p. 71: “Maister Pole violentes the text for the maintenance of the bishop of Rome.” The modern and unauthorized reading was: “And in its sense is no less strong, than that “Which causeth it &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 786 8&lblank; o heavy heart.] O, which is not in the old copy, was added, for the sake of the metre, by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 787 9&lblank; strain'd &lblank;] So the quarto. The folio and all the moderns have—strange. Johnson.

Note return to page 788 1Did buy each other,] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “A thousand kisses buys my heart from me, “And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.” Malone.

Note return to page 789 2With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,] Consign'd means sealed; from consigno, Lat. So, in King Henry V.: “It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign to.” Our author has the same image in many other places. So, in Measure for Measure: “But my kisses bring again, “Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted.” Malone.

Note return to page 790 3Distasted with the salt of broken tears.] i. e. of tears to which we are not permitted to give full vent, being interrupted and suddenly torn from each other. The poet was probably thinking of broken sobs, or broken slumbers. This is the reading of the quarto. The folio has—distasting. Malone. Broken tears is sufficiently explained by—interrupted tears. So, in King Henry VIII.: “You have now a broken banquet;” i. e. an interrupted one. Steevens.

Note return to page 791 *First folio omits so.

Note return to page 792 4Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.] An obscure poet (Flatman) has borrowed this thought: “My soul just now about to take her flight, “Into the regions of eternal night, “Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say, “Be not fearful, come away!” After whom, Pope: “Hark! they whisper; angels say “Sister spirit, come away.” Malone. Again, in Eloisa to Abelard: “Come, sister, come! (it said, or seem'd to say,) “Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!” Steevens.

Note return to page 793 5Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind,] So, in Macbeth: “That tears will drown the wind.” Perhaps, “rain, to lay this wind!” is an optative, and as if he had said—O for tears, &c.! and so I have pointed it. Steevens. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “This windy tempest, till it blow up rain, “Holds back his sorrow's tide, to make it more; “At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er.” Malone.

Note return to page 794 6&lblank; by the root!] So the folio. Quarto—by my throat. Malone.

Note return to page 795 7A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks!] So, in A Mad World my Masters, 1608, a man gives the watchmen some money, and when they have received it he says: “the merry Greeks understand me.” Steevens. See p. 243, n. 3. Malone.

Note return to page 796 8&lblank; what wicked deem is this?] Deem (a word now obsolete) signifies, opinion, surmise. Steevens.

Note return to page 797 9For I will throw my glove to death &lblank;] That is, I will challenge death himself in defence of thy fidelity. Johnson.

Note return to page 798 1They're loving, &c.] This line is not in the quarto. The folio reads—Their loving. This slight correction I proposed some time ago, and I have lately perceived it was made by Mr. Pope. It also has gift of nature. That emendation is Sir T. Hanmer's. In the preceding line “full of quality,” means, I think, absolute, perfect, in their dispositions. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre: “So buxom, blithe, and full of face, “As heaven had lent her all his grace.” Malone. The irregularity of metre in this speech, (unless the epithet— loving be considered as an interpolation,) together with the obscure phrase—full of quality, induce me to suspect the loss of some words which are now irretrievable. Full of quality, however, may mean highly accomplished. So, in Chapman's version of the fourteenth Iliad: “&lblank; Besides all this, he was well qualitied.” The construction, indeed, may be—of full quality. Thus, in the same translator's version of the third Iliad, “full of size” is apparently used for—of full size. Steevens.

Note return to page 799 2&lblank; with person,] Thus the folio. The quarto reads—with portion. Steevens.

Note return to page 800 3&lblank; the high lavolt,] The lavolta was a dance. See Henry V. Act III. Sc. V. Steevens.

Note return to page 801 4There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil, That tempts most cunningly:] This passage may chance to remind the reader of another in Othello: “For here's a young and sweating devil here, “That commonly rebels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 802 5&lblank; catch mere simplicity;] The meaning, I think, is, while others, by their art, gain high estimation, I, by honesty, obtain a plain simple approbation. Johnson.

Note return to page 803 6&lblank; the moral of my wit Is—plain, and true,] Moral, in this instance, has the same meaning as in Much Ado About Nothing, Act III. Sc. IV.: “Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus.” Again, in The Taming of the Shrew, Act IV. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; he has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.” Tollet.

Note return to page 804 7At the port,] The port is the gate. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “That keeps the ports of slumber open wide.” Steevens.

Note return to page 805 8&lblank; possess thee what she is.] I will make thee fully understand. This sense of the word possess is frequent in our author. Johnson. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; Is he yet possess'd “How much you would?” Steevens.

Note return to page 806 9To shame the zeal of my petition to thee, In praising her:] [Old copies—the seal.] To shame the seal of a petition is nonsense. Shakspeare wrote: “To shame the zeal &lblank;” and the sense is this: Grecian, you use me discourteously; you see I am a passionate lover by my petition to you; and therefore you should not shame the zeal of it, by promising to do what I require of you, for the sake of her beauty: when, if you had good manners, or a sense of a lover's delicacy, you would have promised to do it in compassion to his pangs and sufferings. Warburton. Troilus, I suppose, means to say, that Diomede does not use him courteously by addressing himself to Cressida, and assuring her that she shall be well treated for her own sake, and on account of her singular beauty, instead of making a direct answer to that warm request which Troilus had just made to him to “entreat her fair.” The subsequent words fully support this interpretation: “I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge.” Malone.

Note return to page 807 1She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises,] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; she will outstrip all praise &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 808 2&lblank; my lust:] List, I think, is right, though both the old copies read lust. Johnson. Lust is inclination, will. Henley. So, in Exodus, xv. 9: “I will divide the spoil; my lust shall be satisfied upon them.” In many of our ancient writers, lust and list are synonymously employed. So, in Chapman's version of the seventeenth Iliad: “&lblank; Sarpedon, guest and friend “To thee, (and most deservedly) thou flew'st from in his end, “And left'st to all the lust of Greece.” “I'll answer to my lust,” means—I'll follow my inclination. Steevens. Lust was used formerly as synonymous to pleasure. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; the eyes of men through loopholes thrust, “Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust.” Malone.

Note return to page 809 3I tell thee,] Old copies, I'll tell thee; for this emendation I am answerable. The same words occur in the preceding speech of Troilus. Malone. “&lblank; I'll tell thee.” This phraseology (instead of—“I tell thee”) occurs almost too frequently in our author to need exemplification. One instance of it, however, shall be given from King John, Act V. Sc. VI.: “I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night “Passing these flats are taken by the tide.” Again, in the first line of King Henry V.: “My lord, I'll tell you, that self bill is urg'd &lblank;.” Mr. Malone, conceiving this mode of speech to be merely a printer's error, reads, in the former instance—“I tell thee,” though, in the two passages just cited, he retains the ancient, and perhaps the true reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 810 4Dei. Let us make ready straight, &c.] These five lines are not in the quarto, being probably added at the revision. Johnson. To the first of these lines, “Let us make ready straight,” is prefixed in the folio, where alone the passage is found, Dio. I suspect these five lines were an injudicious addition by the actors, for the sake of concluding the scene with a couplet; to which (if there be no corruption) they were more attentive than to the country of Diomed, or the particular commission he was entrusted with by the Greeks. The line in question, however, as has been suggested, may belong to Deiphobus. From Æneas's second speech, in p. 366, and the stage-direction in the quarto and folio prefixed to the third scene of this Act, Deiphobus appears to be now on the stage; and Dio. and Dei. might have been easily confounded. As this slight change removes the absurdity, I have adopted it. It was undoubtedly intended by Shakspeare that Diomed should make his exit with Troilus and Cressida. Malone. But why should Diomed say—Let us make ready straight? Was he to tend with them on Hector's heels? Certainly not. Dio. has therefore crept in by mistake; the line either is part of Paris's speech, or belongs to Deiphobus, who is in company. As to Diomed, he neither goes along with them, nor has any thing to get ready:—he is now walking with Troilus and Cressida, towards the gate, on his way to the Grecian camp. Ritson. This last speech cannot possibly belong to Diomede, who was a Grecian, and could not have addressed Paris and Æneas, as if they were going on the same party. This is, in truth, a continuation of the speech of Paris, and the preceding stage direction should run thus: “Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomed who had the charge of Cressida.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 811 5&lblank; in appointment fresh and fair,] Appointment is preparation. So, in Measure for Measure: “Therefore your best appointment make with speed.” Again, in King Henry V. Part I.: “What well-appointed leader fronts us here?” i. e. what leader well prepared with arms and accoutrements? Steevens. On the other hand, in Hamlet: “Unhousell'd, disappointed, unanel'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 812 6&lblank; bias cheek &lblank;] Swelling out like the bias of a bowl. Johnson. So, in Vittoria Corombona, or The White Devil, 1612: “&lblank; 'Faith his cheek “Has a most excellent bias &lblank;.” The idea is taken from the puffy cheeks of the winds, as represented in ancient prints, maps, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 813 7In kissing, do you render, or receive?] Thus, Bassanio, in The Merchant of Venice, when he kisses Portia: “&lblank; Fair lady, by your leave, “I come by note, to give, and to receive.” Steevens.

Note return to page 814 8Patr. Both take and give.] This speech should rather be given to Menelaus. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 815 9I'll make my match to live,] I will make such bargains as I may live by, such as may bring me profit, therefore will not take a worse kiss than I give. Johnson. I believe this only means—I'll lay my life. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 816 1Why, beg then.] For the sake of rhyme we should read: “Why beg two.” If you think kisses worth begging, beg more than one. Johnson.

Note return to page 817 2Never's my day, and then a kiss of you.] I once gave both these lines to Cressida. She bids Ulysses beg a kiss; he asks that he may have it, “When Helen is a maid again &lblank;.” She tells him that then he shall have it,—When Helen is a maid again: “Cres. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. “Ulyss. Never's my day, and then a kiss for you.” But I rather think Ulysses means to slight her, and that the present reading is right. Johnson.

Note return to page 818 3There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; &c.] One would almost think that Shakspeare had, on this occasion, been reading St. Chrysostom, who says—“Non loquuta es lingua, sed loquuta es gressu; non loquuta es voce, sed oculis loquuta es clarius quam voce;” i. e. “They say nothing with their mouthes, they speake in their gate, they speake with their eyes, they speake in the carriage of their bodies.” I have borrowed this invective against a wanton, as well as the translation of it, from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. Sect. II. Memb. 2. Subs. 3. Steevens.

Note return to page 819 4&lblank; motive of her body.] Motive, for part that contributes to motion. Johnson. This word is also employed, with some singularity, in All's Well that Ends Well: “As it hath fated her to be my motive “And helper to a husband.” Steevens.

Note return to page 820 5O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,] Ere what comes? As this passage stands, the pronoun it has no antecedent. Johnson says, a coasting means an amorous address, courtship, but he has given no example to prove it, or shown how the word can possibly bear that meaning. I have no doubt but we should read: “And give accosting welcome ere it come.” M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's conjecture is plausible and ingenious; and yet, without some hesitation, it cannot be admitted into the text. A coasting welcome may mean a side-long glance of invitation. Ere it comes, may signify, before such an overture has reached her. Perhaps, therefore, the plain sense of the passage may be, that Cressida is one of those females who “throw out their lure, before any like signal has been made to them by our sex.” I always advance with reluctance what I cannot prove by examples; and yet, perhaps, I may be allowed to add, that in some old book of voyages which I have formerly read, I remember that the phrase, a coasting salute, was used to express a salute of guns from a ship passing by a fortified place at which the navigator did not design to stop, though the salute was instantly returned. So, in Othello: “They do discharge their shot of courtesy; “Our friends, at least.” Again: “They give this greeting to the citadel: “This likewise is a friend.” Cressida may therefore resemble a fortress which salutes before it has been saluted. Steevens. A coasting welcome is a conciliatory welcome: that makes silent advances before the tongue has uttered a word. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Anon she hears them chaunt it lustily, “And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.” Malone.

Note return to page 821 5&lblank; sluttish spoils of opportunity,] Corrupt wenches, of whose chastity every opportunity may make a prey. Johnson.

Note return to page 822 *First folio, you state.

Note return to page 823 6&lblank; what shall be done To him that victory commands?] This praise is scriptural, and signifies—“what honour shall he receive?” So, in Samuel I. xvii. 26: “What shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine?” Steevens,

Note return to page 824 7&lblank; to the edge of all extremity &lblank;] So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “To the extreme edge of hazard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 825 *First folio omits they.

Note return to page 826 8'Tis done like Hector, but securely done,] This speech, in the old copies, is given to Agamemnon. Malone. It seems absurd to me, that Agamemnon should make a remark to the disparagement of Hector for pride, and that Æneas should immediately say— “If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?” To Achilles I have ventured to place it; and consulting Mr. Dryden's alteration of this play, I was not a little pleased to find, that I had but seconded the opinion of that great man in this point. Theobald. Though all the old copies agree in giving this speech to Agamemnon, I have no doubt but Theobald is right in restoring it to Achilles. It is this very speech, so much in character, that makes Æneas immediately recognize Achilles, and say in reply— “If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?” And it is to Achilles he afterwards addresses himself in reply to this speech; on which he answers the observation it contains on Hector's conduct, by giving his just character, and clearing himself from the charge of pride.—I have already observed that the copies of this play are uncommonly faulty with respect to the distribution of the speeches to the proper persons. M. Mason. “&lblank; securely done.” In the sense of the Latin, securus—“securus admodum de bello, animi securi homo.” A negligent security arising from a contempt of the object opposed. Warburton. Dr. Warburton truly observes, that the word securely is here used in the Latin sense: and Mr. Warner, in his ingenious letter to Mr. Garrick, thinks the sense peculiar to Shakspeare; “for (says he) I have not been able to trace it elsewhere.” This gentleman has treated me with so much civility, that I am bound in honour to remove his difficulty. It is to be found in the last act of The Spanish Tragedy: “O damned devil, how secure he is.” In my Lord Bacon's Essay on Tumults, “&lblank; neither let any prince or state be secure concerning discontents.” And besides these, in Drayton, Fletcher, and the vulgar translation of the Bible. Mr. Warner had as little success in his researches for the word religion in its Latin acceptation. I meet with it however in Hoby's translation of Castilio, 1561: “Some be so scrupulous, as it were, with a religion of this their Tuscane tung.” Ben Jonson more than once uses both the substantive and the adjective in this sense. As to the word Cavalero, with the Spanish termination, it is to be found in Heywood, Withers, Davies, Taylor, and many other writers. Farmer.

Note return to page 827 *First folio, disprizing.

Note return to page 828 9Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;] Shakspeare's thought is not exactly deduced. Nicety of expression is not his character. The meaning is plain: “Valour (says Æneas) is in Hector greater than valour in other men, and pride in Hector is less than pride in other men. So that Hector is distinguished by the excellence of having pride less than other pride, and valour more than other valour.” Johnson.

Note return to page 829 1This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood:] Ajax and Hector were cousin-germans. Malone.

Note return to page 830 2&lblank; half Trojan, and half Greek.] Hence Thersites, in a former scene, called Ajax a mongrel. See p. 281, n. 8. Malone.

Note return to page 831 3&lblank; a breath:] i. e. a breathing, a slight exercise of arms. See p. 306, n. 7. Steevens.

Note return to page 832 4&lblank; stints &lblank;] i. e. stops. So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; make peace, stint war &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 833 5&lblank; deedless in his tongue;] i. e. no boaster of his own deeds. Steevens.

Note return to page 834 6&lblank; an impair thought &lblank;] A thought unsuitable to the dignity of his character. This word I should have changed to impure, were I not overpowered by the unanimity of the editors, and concurrence of the old copies. Johnson. So, in Chapman's preface to his translation of the Shield of Homer, 1598: “&lblank; nor is it more impaire to an honest and absolute man,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 835 7&lblank; Hector,—subscribes To tender objects;] That is, yields, gives way. Johnson. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; subscrib'd his power;” i. e. submitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 836 8&lblank; thus translate him to me.] Thus explain his character. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves; “You must translate.” Steevens.

Note return to page 837 9My sacred aunt,] It is remarkable that the Greeks give to the uncle the title of Sacred, &grq;&gre;&gri;&gro;&grst;. Patruus avunculus &gror; &grp;&grr;&grog;&grst; &grp;&gra;&grt;&grr;&gro;&grst; &grq;&gre;&grig;&gro;&grst;, Gaz. de Senec. patruus &grora; &grp;&grr;&grog;&grst; &grm;&grh;&grt;&grr;&groa;&grst; &grq;&gre;&gri;&gro;&grst;, avunculus, Budæi Lexic.—&grq;&gre;&gri;&gro;&grst; is also used absolutely for &gror; &grp;&grr;&grog;&grst; &grp;&gra;&grt;&grr;&gro;&grst; &grq;&gre;&gri;&gro;&grst;, Euripid. Iphigen. Taurid. l. 930: &grI;&grf;&gri;. &GRHra; &grp;&gro;&gru; &grn;&gro;&grs;&groc;&gru;&grn;&grt;&gra;&grst; &grq;&gre;&gric;&gro;&grst; &grura;&grb;&grr;&gri;&grs;&gre;&grn; &grd;&groa;&grm;&gro;&gru;&grst;. And Xenoph. &grK;&gru;&grr;&gro;&gru; &grp;&gra;&grig;&grd;. lib. i. passim. Vaillant. This circumstance may tend to establish an opinion I have elsewhere expressed, that this play was not the entire composition of Shakspeare, to whom the Grecism before us was probably unknown. Steevens.

Note return to page 838 1A great addition &lblank;] i. e. denomination. See p. 239, n. 5. Steevens.

Note return to page 839 2Not Neoptolemus so mirable (On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st O yes Cries, This is he,) could promise to himself, &c.] Dr. Warburton observes, that “the sense and spirit of Hector's speech requires that the most celebrated of his adversaries should be picked out to be defied, and this was Achilles himself, not his son Neoptolemus, who was yet but an apprentice in warfare.” In the rage of correction therefore he reads: “Not Neoptolemus's sire irascible.” Such a licentious conjecture deserves no attention. Malone. My opinion is, that by Neoptolemus the author meant Achilles himself; and remembering that the son was Pyrrhus Neoptolemus, considered Neoptolemus as the nomen gentilitium, and thought the father was likewise Achilles Neoptolemus. Johnson. Shakspeare might have used Neoptolemus for Achilles. Wilfride Holme, the author of a poem called The Fall and Evil Successe of Rebellion, &c. 1537, had made the same mistake before him, as the following stanza will show:   “Also the triumphant Troyans victorious, “By Anthenor and Æneas false confederacie,   “Sending Polidamus to Neoptolemus, “Who was vanquished and subdued by their conspiracie.   “O dolorous fortune, and fatal miserie! “For multitude of people was there mortificate   “With condigne Priamus and all his progenie, “And flagrant Polixene, that lady delicate.” In Lydgate, however, Achilles, Neoptolemus, and Pyrrhus, are distinct characters. Neoptolemus is enumerated among the Grecian princes who first embarked to revenge the rape of Helen: “The valiant Grecian called Neoptolemus, “That had his haire as blacke as any jet,” &c. p. 102. and Pyrrhus, very properly, is not heard of till after the death of his father: “Sith that Achilles in such traiterous wise “Is slaine, that we a messenger should send “To fetch his son yong Pyrrhus, to the end “He may revenge his father's death,” &c. p. 237. Steevens. I agree with Dr. Johnson and Mr. Steevens, in thinking that Shakspeare supposed Neoptolemus was the nomen gentilitium: an error into which he might have been led by some book of the time. That by Neoptolemus he meant Achilles, and not Pyrrhus, may be inferred from a former passage in p. 354, by which it appears that he knew Pyrrhus had not yet engaged in the siege of Troy: “But it must grieve young Pyrrhus, now at home,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 840 3We'll answer it;] That is, answer the expectance. Johnson.

Note return to page 841 4&lblank; your knights.] The word knight, as often as it occurs, is sure to bring with it the idea of chivalry, and revives the memory of Amadis and his fantastick followers, rather than that of the mighty confederates who fought on either side in the Trojan war. I wish that eques and armiger could have been rendered by any other words than knight and 'squire. Mr. Pope, in his translation of the Iliad, is very liberal of the latter. Steevens. These knights, to the amount of about two hundred thousand, (for there were not less in both armies,) Shakspeare found, with all the appendages of chivalry, in The Three Destructions of Troy. Malone.

Note return to page 842 5Worthy of arms!] Folio. “Worthy all arms!” quarto. The quarto has only the first, second, and the last line of this salutation; the intermediate verses seem added on a revision. Johnson.

Note return to page 843 6&lblank; divine integrity,] i. e. integrity like that of heaven. Steevens.

Note return to page 844 7&lblank; heart of very heart,] So, in Hamlet: “In my heart's core, ay in my heart of heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 845 8&lblank; most imperious Agamemnon.] Imperious and imperial had formerly the same signification. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Imperious supreme of all mortal things.” Malone. Again, in Titus Andronicus: “King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.” Steevens.

Note return to page 846 9Men. The noble Menelaus.] Mr. Ritson supposes this speech to belong to Æneas. Reed. As I cannot suppose that Menelaus would style himself “the noble Menelaus,” I think Ritson right in giving this speech to Æneas. M. Mason.

Note return to page 847 1Mock not, &c.] The quarto has here a strange corruption: “Mock not thy affect, the untreaded earth.” Johnson. “&lblank; the untraded oath.” A singular oath, not in common use. So, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; some way of common trade.” Malone.

Note return to page 848 2Labouring for destiny, &c.] The vicegerent of Fate. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; His sword, death's stamp, “Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot “He was a thing of blood, whose every motion “Was tim'd with dying cries: alone he enter'd “The mortal gate of the city, which he painted “With shunless destiny.” Malone.

Note return to page 849 3As hot as Perseus, spur &lblank;] As the equestrian fame of Perseus, on the present occasion, must be alluded to, this simile will serve to countenance my opinion, that in a former instance his horse was meant for a real one, and not, allegorically, for a ship. See p. 254, n. 4. Steevens.

Note return to page 850 4Despising many forfeits and subduements,] Thus the quarto. The folio reads: “And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements.” Johnson.

Note return to page 851 5When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i'the air, Not letting it decline on the declin'd;] Dr. Young appears to have imitated this passage in the second Act of his Busiris: “&lblank; my rais'd arm “Has hung in air, forgetful to descend, “And for a moment spar'd the prostrate foe.” Steevens. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “And hangs resolv'd correction in the air, “That was uprear'd to execution.” The declin'd is the fallen. So, in Timon of Athens: “Not one accompanying his declining foot.” Malone.

Note return to page 852 *First folio, said unto.

Note return to page 853 †Quarto, shrup'd thee in.

Note return to page 854 6&lblank; thy grandsire,] Laomedon. Steevens.

Note return to page 855 7'Tis the old Nestor.] So, in Julius Cæsar: “Old Cassius still.” If the poet had the same idea in both passages, Æneas means, “Nestor is still the same talkative old man, we have long known him to be.” He may, however, only mean to inform Hector that Nestor is the person who has addressed him. Malone. I believe that Æneas, who acts as master of the ceremonies, is now merely announcing Nestor to Hector, as he had before announced Menelaus to him; for, as Mr. Ritson has observed, the last speech in p. 392, most evidently belongs to Æneas. Steevens.

Note return to page 856 8As they contend &lblank;] This line is not in the quarto. Johnson.

Note return to page 857 9Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,] So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Threatening cloud kissing Ilion with annoy.” Again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “Whose towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd the clouds.” Ilion, according to Shakspeare's authority, was the name of Priam's palace, “that was one of the richest and strongest that ever was in all the world. And it was of height five hundred paces, besides the height of the towers, whereof there was great plenty, and so high as that it seemed to them that saw them from farre, they raught up unto the heaven.” The Destruction of Troy, book ii. p. 478. So also Lydgate, sign. F 8, verso: “And whan he gan to his worke approche, “He made it builde hye upon a roche, “It for to assure in his foundation, “And called it the noble Ylion.” Shakspeare was thinking of this circumstance when he wrote, in the first Act, these lines. Troilus is the speaker: “Between our Ilium, and where she resides, [i. e. Troy] “Let it be call'd the wild and wand'ring flood.” Malone.

Note return to page 858 1I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, thou!] Should we not read—though? Notwithstanding you have invited Hector to your tent, I shall draw him first into mine. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Cupid's Revenge, Act III. Sc. I.: “&lblank; O dissembling woman, “Whom I must reverence though &lblank;.” Tyrwhitt. The repetition of thou! was anciently used by one who meant to insult another. So, in Twelfth Night: “&lblank; if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss.” Again, in The Tempest: “Thou ly'st, thou jesting monkey, thou!” Again, in the first scene of the fifth Act of this play: “&lblank; thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou!” Steevens, Steevens's observations on the use of the word thou are perfectly just, and therefore I agree with Tyrwhitt that we ought to read: “&lblank; lord Ulysses, though!” as it could not be the intention of Achilles to affront Ulysses, but merely to inform him, that he expected to entertain Hector before he did. M. Mason. Mr. Steevens's remark is incontrovertibly true; but Ulysses had not said any thing to excite such contempt. Malone. Perhaps the scorn of Achilles arose from a supposition that Ulysses, by inviting Hector immediately after his visit to Agamemnon, designed to represent himself as the person next in rank and consequence to the general of the Grecian forces. Steevens.

Note return to page 859 2Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;] The hint for this scene of altercation between Achilles and Hector is taken from Lydgate. Steevens.

Note return to page 860 3And quoted joint by joint.] To quote is to observe. So, in Hamlet: “I'm sorry that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Thu. And how quote you my folly? “Val. I quote it in your jerkin.” Steevens.

Note return to page 861 *First folio, pry thee.

Note return to page 862 *First folio, the oracle.

Note return to page 863 4But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm,] A stithy is an anvil, and from hence the verb stithied is formed. M. Mason. The word is still used in Yorkshire. Malone. A stith is an anvil, a stithy a smith's shop. See Hamlet, Act III. Sc. II. vol. vii. p. 344. Steevens.

Note return to page 864 5If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him] Ajax treats Achilles with contempt, and means to insinuate that he was afraid of fighting with Hector. “You may every day (says he) have enough of Hector, if you choose it; but I believe the whole state of Greece will scarcely prevail on you to engage with him.” To have a stomach to any thing is, to have an inclination to it. M. Mason. To be odd with him, means to be at odds with him, to contend with him, to show how much one is more than an even match for the other. Boswell.

Note return to page 865 6&lblank; pelting wars,] i. e. petty, inconsiderable ones. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Have every pelting river made so proud,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 866 7&lblank; convive &lblank;] To convive is to feast. This word is not peculiar to Shakspeare. I find it several times used in The Hystory of Helyas Knight of the Swanne, bl. l. no date. Steevens.

Note return to page 867 8Beat loud the tabourines,] For this the quarto and the latter editions have— “To taste your bounties.” The reading which I have given from the folio seems chosen at the revision, to avoid the repetition of the word bounties. Johnson. Tabourines are small drums. The word occurs again in Antony and Cleopatra. Steevens.

Note return to page 868 9That this great soldier may his welcome know.] So, in Macbeth: “That this great king may kindly say, “Our duties did his welcome pay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 869 *First folio, on heaven nor on earth.

Note return to page 870 *Quarto, But gentle.

Note return to page 871 1I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow.] Grammar requires us to read— “With Greekish wine to-night I'll heat his blood, “Which,” &c. Otherwise, Achilles threatens to cool the wine, instead of Hector's blood. Steevens.

Note return to page 872 2&lblank; to the height.] The same phrase occurs in King Henry VIII.: “He's traitor to the height.” Steevens.

Note return to page 873 *Quarto, curse.

Note return to page 874 3Thou crusty batch of nature,] Batch is changed by Theobald to botch, and the change is justified by a pompous note, which discovers that he did not know the word batch. What is more strange, Hanmer has followed him. Batch is any thing baked. Johnson. Batch does not signify any thing baked, but all that is baked at one time, without heating the oven afresh. So, Ben Jonson, in his Catiline: “Except he were of the same meal and batch.” Again, in Decker's If This be Not a Good Play, the Devil Is In It, 1612: “The best is, there are but two batches of people moulded in this world.” Again, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “Hast thou made a good batch? I pray thee give me a new loaf.” Again, in Every Man in his Humour: “Is all the rest of this batch?” Thersites had already been called cobloaf. Steevens.

Note return to page 875 4The surgeon's box,] In this answer Thersites only quibbles upon the word tent. Hanmer.

Note return to page 876 5Well said, Adversity!] Adversity, I believe, in this instance, signifies contrariety. The reply of Thersites has been studiously adverse to the drift of the question urged by Patroclus. So, in Love's Labour's Lost, the Princess, addressing Boyet, (who had been capriciously employing himself to perplex the dialogue,) says—“avaunt, Perplexity!” Steevens.

Note return to page 877 6Male varlet,] Sir T. Hanmer reads—Male harlot, plausibly enough, except that it seems too plain to require the explanation which Patroclus demands. Johnson. This expression is met with in Decker's Honest Whore: “&lblank; 'tis a male varlet, sure, my lord!” Farmer. The person spoken of in Decker's play is Bellafronte, a harlot, who is introduced in boy's clothes. I have no doubt that the text is right. Malone. There is nothing either criminal or extraordinary in a male varlet. The word preposterous is well adapted to express the idea of Thersites. The sense therefore requires that we should adopt Hanmer's amendment. M. Mason. Man-mistress is a term of reproach thrown out by Dorax, in Dryden's Don Sebastian, King of Portugal. See, however, Professor Heyne's 17th Excursus on the First Book of the Æneid, 1787, p. 161. Steevens.

Note return to page 878 7&lblank; cold palsies,] This catalogue of loathsome maladies ends in the folio at cold palsies. This passage, as it stands, is in the quarto: the retrenchment was, in my opinion, judicious. It may be remarked, though it proves nothing, that, of the few alterations made by Milton in the second edition of his wonderful poem, one was, an enlargement of the enumeration of diseases. Johnson.

Note return to page 879 8&lblank; you ruinous butt; &c.] Patroclus reproaches Thersites with deformity, with having one part crouded into another. Johnson. The same idea occurs in The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “Croud us and crush us to this monstrous form.” Steevens.

Note return to page 880 9&lblank; indistinguishable cur,] i. e. thou cur of an undeterminate shape. Steevens.

Note return to page 881 *First folio, sley'd silk.

Note return to page 882 1&lblank; thou idle immaterial skein of sleive silk.] All the terms used by Thersites of Patroclus, are emblematically expressive of flexibility, compliance, and mean officiousness. Johnson. Sleive silk is explained in a note on Macbeth, Act II. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 883 2&lblank; such water-flies;] So, Hamlet, speaking of Osrick: “Dost know this water-fly?” Steevens.

Note return to page 884 3&lblank; diminutives of nature!] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; be shown “For poor'st diminutives, for dolts &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 885 4Out, gall!] Sir T. Hanmer reads—nut-gall, which answers well enough to finch egg; it has already appeared, that our author thought the nut-gall the bitter gall. He is called nut, from the conglobation of his form; but both the copies read—Out, gall! Johnson.

Note return to page 886 5Finch egg!] Of this reproach I do not know the exact meaning. I suppose he means to call him singing bird, as implying an useless favourite, and yet more, something more worthless, a singing bird in the egg, or generally, a slight thing easily crushed. Johnson. A finch's egg is remarkably gaudy; but of such terms of reproach it is difficult to pronounce the true signification. Steevens.

Note return to page 887 6A token from her daughter, &c.] This is a circumstance taken from the story book of The Three Destructions of Troy. Hanmer.

Note return to page 888 7And the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull,—the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds;] He calls Menelaus the transformation of Jupiter, that is, as himself explains it, the bull, on account of his horns, which he had as a cuckold. This cuckold he calls the primitive statue of cuckolds; i. e. his story had made him so famous, that he stood as the great archetype of his character. Warburton. Mr. Heath observes, that “the memorial is called oblique, because it was only indirectly such, upon the common supposition, that both bulls and cuckolds were furnished with horns.” Steevens. Perhaps Shakspeare meant nothing more by this epithet than horned, the bull's horns being crooked or oblique. Dr. Warburton, I think, mistakes. It is the bull, not Menelaus, that is the primitive statue, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 889 *Quarto, his bare leg.

Note return to page 890 †Quarto, faced.

Note return to page 891 8&lblank; forced with wit,] Stuffed with wit. A term of cookery. In this speech I do not well understand what is meant by loving quails. Johnson. By loving quails the poet may mean loving the company of harlots. A quail is remarkably salacious. Mr. Upton says that Xenophon, in his memoirs of Socrates, has taken notice of this quality in the bird. A similar allusion occurs in The Hollander, a comedy, by Glapthorne, 1640: “&lblank; the hot desire of quails, “To yours is modest appetite.” Steevens. In old French, caille was synonymous to fille de joie. In the Dict. Comique par le Roux, under the article caille, are these words: Chaud comme une caille.— Caille coeffée,—Sobriquet qu'on donne aux femmes. Signifie femme eveillée, amoureuse. So, in Rabelais [as Mr. Theobald has remarked]:—“Cailles coiffées mignonnement chantans;” which Motteux has thus rendered (probably from the old translation): “coated quails and laced mutton, waggishly singing.” Malone.

Note return to page 892 9&lblank; a fitchew,] i. e. a polecat. So, in Othello: “'Tis such another fitchew, marry a perfum'd one &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 893 1&lblank; spirits and fires!] This Thersites speaks apon the first sight of the distant lights. Johnson.

Note return to page 894 2&lblank; sweet Menelaus.] Old copy, redundantly,—sweet lord Menelaus. Steevens.

Note return to page 895 3Sweet draught:] Draught is the old word for forica. It is used in the vulgar translation of the Bible. Malone. So, in Holinshed, and a thousand other places. Steevens.

Note return to page 896 4&lblank; he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler the hound;] If a hound gives his mouth, and is not upon the scent of the game, he is by sportsmen called a babler or brabler. The proverb says—“Brabling curs never want sore ears.” Anonymous.

Note return to page 897 5&lblank; prodigious,] i. e. portentous, ominous. So, in King Richard III.: “Prodigious, and untimely brought to light.” Steevens.

Note return to page 898 6&lblank; they say, he keeps a Trojan drab,] This character of Diomed is likewise taken from Lydgate. Steevens.

Note return to page 899 7She will sing any man at first sight,] We now say—sing at sight. The meaning is the same. Malone.

Note return to page 900 8&lblank; her cliff;] That is, her key. Clef, French. Johnson. Cliff, i. e. a mark in musick at the beginning of the lines of a song; and is the indication of the pitch, and bespeaks what kind of voice—as base, tenour, or treble, it is proper for. Sir J. Hawkins. So, in The Chances, by Beaumont and Fletcher, where Antonio, employing musical terms, says: “&lblank; Will none but my C cliff serve your turn?” Again, in The Lover's Melancholy, 1629: “&lblank; that's a bird “Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 901 9Nay, but do then;] I suppose, for the sake of metre, the word—Nay, should be omitted. Yet such is the irregularity or mutilation of this dialogue, that it is not always easy to determine how much of it was meant for prose or verse. Steevens.

Note return to page 902 *First folio, a forsworn.

Note return to page 903 1You flow to great destruction;] Means, I think, your impetuosity is such as must necessarily expose you to imminent danger. Malone. The folio has: “You flow to great distraction; &lblank;” The quarto: “You flow to great destruction; &lblank;” Johnson. I would adhere to the old reading: You flow to great destruction, or distraction, means the tide of your imagination will hurry you either to noble death from the hand of Diomedes, or to the height of madness from the predominance of your own passions. Steevens. Possibly we ought to read destruction, as Ulysses has told Troilus just before: “&lblank; this place is dangerous; “The time right deadly.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 904 2&lblank; palter.] i. e. shuffle, behave with duplicity. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “And palter in the shifts of lowness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 905 3How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potatoe finger, tickles these together!] Potatoes were anciently regarded as provocatives. See Mr. Collins's note, which, on account of its length, is given at the end of the play. Steevens.

Note return to page 906 *First folio, sweet lord.

Note return to page 907 4&lblank; keep this sleeve.] The custom of wearing a lady's sleeve for a favour, is mentioned in Hall's Chronicle, fol. 12: “&lblank; One ware on his head-piece his lady's sleeve, and another bare on his helme the glove of his deareling.” Again, in the second canto of The Barons' Wars, by Drayton: “A lady's sleeve high-spirited Hastings wore.” Again, in the Morte Arthur, p. 3, ch. 119: “When Queen Genever wist that Sir Launcelot beare the red sleeve of the faire maide of Astolat, she was nigh out of her minde for anger.” Holinshed, p. 884, says, King Henry VIII. “had on his head a ladies sleeve full of diamonds.” The circumstance, however, was adopted by Shakspeare from Chaucer. T. and C. l. 5. 1040: “She made him were a pencell of her sleeve.” A pencell is a small pennon or streamer. Steevens. In an old play, (in six acts,) called Histriomastix, 1610, this incident seems to be burlesqued. Troilus and Cressida are introduced by way of interlude; and Cressida breaks out: “O Knight, with valour in thy face, “Here take my skreene, wear it for grace; “Within thy helmet put the same, “Therewith to make thine enemies lame.” A little old book, The Hundred Hystoryes of Troye, tells us, “Bryseyde whom master Chaucer called Cresseyde, was a damosell of great beaute; and yet was more quaynte, mutable, and full of vagaunt condysions.” Farmer This sleeve was given by Troilus to Cressida at their parting, and she gave him a glove in return. M. Mason. What Mr. Steevens has observed on the subject of ladies' sleeves is certainly true; but the sleeve given in the present instance was the sleeve of Troilus. It may be supposed to be an ornamented cuff, such perhaps as was worn by some of our young nobility at a tilt, in Shakspeare's age. On second consideration, I believe, the sleeve of Troilus, which is here given to Diomedes, was such a one as was formerly worn at tournaments. See Spenser's View of Ireland, p. 43, edit. 1633: “Also the deepe smocke sleive, which the Irish women use, they say, was old Spanish, and is used yet in Barbary; and yet that should seeme rather to be an old English fashion, for in armory the fashion of the manche which is given in armes by many, being indeed nothing else but a sleive, is fashioned much like to that sleive.” Malone.

Note return to page 908 5No matter, now, &c.] Old copies, redundantly,—It is no matter, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 909 6I shall have it.] Some word or words, necessary to the metre, are here apparently omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 910 7As I kiss thee, &c.] In old editions: “As I kiss thee. “Dio. Nay, do not snatch it from me. “Cres. He, that takes that, must take my heart withal.” Dr. Thirlby thinks this should be all placed to Cressida. She had the sleeve, and was kissing it rapturously; and Diomedes snatches it back from her. Theobald.

Note return to page 911 8By all Diana's waiting-women yonder,] i. e. the stars which she points to. Warburton. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “The silver-shining queen he would disdain; “Her twinkling hand-maids too, by him defil'd, “Through Night's black bosom should not peep again.” Malone. Milton, in his Elegy I. v. 77, has imitated Shakspeare: &lblank; cœlo scintillant astra sereno Endymioneæ turba ministra deæ. Steevens.

Note return to page 912 9Ther. Nor I, by Pluto, &c.] Sir Thomas Hanmer gives this speech to Troilus. It does not very much resemble the language of Thersites. If indeed it belongs to the former character, it should assume a metrical form, though it is here given as it stands in the folio, and the quarto 1609, “imprinted by G. Eld, for R. Bonian and H. Walley.” Steevens.

Note return to page 913 1Troilus, farewell!] The characters of Cressida and Pandarus are more immediately formed from Chaucer than from Lydgate; for though the latter mentions them both characteristically, he does not sufficiently dwell on either to have furnished Shakspeare with many circumstances to be found in this tragedy. Lydgate, speaking of Cressida, says only:   “She gave her heart and love to Diomede, “To shew what trust there is in woman kind;   “For she of her new love no sooner sped, “But Troilus was cleane out of her mind,   “As if she never had him known or seen,   “Wherein I cannot guess what she did mean.” Steevens.

Note return to page 914 2But with my heart, &c.] I think it should be read thus: “But my heart with the other eye doth see.” Johnson. Perhaps, rather: “But with the other eye my heart doth see.” Tyrwhitt. There is surely no need of change; one eye, says Cressida, looks on Troilus: but the other follows Diomed, where my heart is fixed. Malone.

Note return to page 915 3A proof of strength she could not publish more,] She could not publish a stronger proof. Johnson.

Note return to page 916 *Quarto, court.

Note return to page 917 4That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears;] i. e. that turns the very testimony of seeing and hearing against themselves. Theobald.

Note return to page 918 5I cannot conjure, Trojan.] That is, I cannot raise spirits in the form of Cressida. Johnson.

Note return to page 919 6Most sure she was.] The present deficiency in the measure induces me to suppose our author wrote: “It is most sure she was.” Steevens.

Note return to page 920 7&lblank; for womanhood!] i. e. for the sake of womanhood. Steevens.

Note return to page 921 8&lblank; do not give advantage “To stubborn criticks—apt, without a theme, For depravation,] Critick has here, I think, the signification of Cynick. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “And critick Timon laugh at idle toys.” Malone.

Note return to page 922 9If there be rule in unity itself,] May mean—If there be certainty in unity, if there be a rule that one is one. Johnson. If it be true that one individual cannot be two distinct persons. M. Mason. The rule alluded to is a very simple one; that one cannot be two. This woman therefore, says Troilus, this false one, cannot be that Cressida that formerly plighted her faith to me. Malone.

Note return to page 923 1&lblank; against itself!] Thus the quarto. The folio reads— against thyself. In the preceding line also I have followed the quarto. The folio reads—This is not she. Malone.

Note return to page 924 2Bi-fold authority!] This is the reading of the quarto. The folio gives us: “By foul authority!—” There is madness in that disquisition in which a man reasons at once for and against himself upon authority which he knows not to be valid. The quarto is right. Johnson. This is one of the passages in which the editor of the folio changed words that he found in the quartos, merely because he did not understand them. Malone.

Note return to page 925 3&lblank; where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt;] The words loss and perdition are used in their common sense, but they mean the loss or perdition of reason. Johnson.

Note return to page 926 4Within my soul there doth commence a fight &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “Sir, in my heart, there was a kind of fighting.” Malone.

Note return to page 927 5&lblank; a thing inseparate &lblank;] i. e. the plighted troth of lovers. Troilus considers it inseparable, or at least that it ought never to be broken, though he has unfortunately found that it sometimes is. Malone.

Note return to page 928 6&lblank; more wider &lblank;] Thus the old copies. The modern editions, following Mr. Pope, read—far wider; though we have a similar phraseology with the present in almost every one of these plays. Malone. So, in Coriolanus: “He bears himself more proudlier.” See note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 929 7As is Arachne's broken woof, to enter.] Is,—the syllable wanting in this verse, the modern editors have supplied. I hope the mistake was not originally the poet's own; yet one of the quartos read with the folio, Ariachna's broken woof, and the other Ariathna's. It is not impossible that Shakspeare might have written Ariadne's broken woof, having confounded the two names, or the stories, in his imagination; or alluding to the clue of thread, by the assistance of which Theseus escaped from the Cretan labyrinth. I do not remember that Ariadne's loom is mentioned by any of the Greek or Roman poets, though I find an allusion to it in Humour out of Breath, a comedy, 1607: “&lblank; instead of these poor weeds, in robes, “Richer than that which Ariadne wrought, “Or Cytherea's airy-moving vest.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy: “&lblank; thy tresses, Ariadne's twines, “Wherewith my liberty thou hast supriz'd.” Again, in Muleasses the Turk, 1610: “Leads the despairing wretch into a maze; “But not an Ariadne in the world “To lend a clew to lead us out of it, “The very maze of horror.” Shakspeare, however, might have written—Arachnea; great liberties being taken in spelling proper names, and especially by ancient English writers. Thus we have both Alcmene and Alcumene, Alcmena and Alcumena. Steevens. My quarto, which is printed for R. Bonian, 1609, reads— Ariachna's broken woof; the other, which is said to be undated, reads, as Mr. Steevens says—Ariathna's. The folio—Ariachne's. Mr. Steevens hopes the mistake was not originally the author's, but I think it extremely probable that he pronounced the word as a word of four syllables. Malone.

Note return to page 930 8&lblank; knot, five-finger-tied,] A knot tied by giving her hand to Diomed. Johnson. So, in The Fatal Dowry, by Massinger and Field, 1632: “Your fingers tie my heart-strings with this touch, “In true-love knots, which nought but death shall loose.” Malone.

Note return to page 931 *Quarto, given.

Note return to page 932 9The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.] Vows which she has already swallowed once over. We still say of a faithless man, that he has eaten his words. Johnson. The image is not of the most delicate kind. “Her o'er-eaten faith” means, I think, her troth plighted to Troilus, of which she was surfeited, and, like one who has over-eaten himself, had thrown off. All the preceding words, the fragments, scraps, &c. show that this was Shakspeare's meaning. So, in Twelfth-Night: “Give me excess of it [musick]; that surfeiting “The appetite may sicken, and so die.” Again, more appositely, in King Henry IV. P. II.: “The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; “Their over-greedy love hath surfeited.— “O thou fond many! with what loud applause “Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, “Before he was what thou would'st have him be! “And being now trimm'd in thine own desires, “Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, “That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.” Malone.

Note return to page 933 1May worthy Troilus &lblank;] Can Troilus really feel, on this occasion, half of what he utters? A question suitable to the calm Ulysses. Johnson.

Note return to page 934 *First folio, in.

Note return to page 935 2My sword should bite it:] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; I have a sword, and it shall bite,” &c. In King Lear we have also “biting faulchion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 936 3&lblank; the dreadful spout, Which shipmen do the hurricano call,] A particular account of “a spout,” is given in Captain John Smith's Sea Grammar, quarto, 1627: “A spout is, as it were a small river falling entirely from the clouds, like one of our water-spouts, which make the sea, where it falleth, to rebound in flashes exceeding high;” i. e. in the language of Shakspeare, to “dizzy the ear of Neptune.” So also, Drayton: “And down the shower impetuously doth fall “Like that which men the hurricano call.” Steevens.

Note return to page 937 †First folio, fenne.

Note return to page 938 4&lblank; concupy.] A cant word, formed by our author from concupiscence. Steevens.

Note return to page 939 5&lblank; and wear a castle on thy head!] i. e. defend thy head with armour of more than common security. So, in The Most Ancient and Famous History of The Renowned Prince Arthur, &c. edit. 1634, ch. clviii.: “Do thou thy best, said Sir Gawaine, therefore hie thee fast that thou wert gone, and wit thou well we shall soone come after, and breake the strongest castle that thou hast upon thy head.”—Wear a castle, therefore, seems to be a figurative expression, signifying, Keep a castle over your head; i. e. live within the walls of your castle. In Urry's Chaucer, Sir Thopas is represented with a castle by way of crest to his helmet. See, however, Titus Andronicus, Act III. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 940 6I'll bring you, &c.] Perhaps this, and the following short speech, originally stood thus: “Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates, my lord. “Tro. Accept “Distracted thanks. Steevens.

Note return to page 941 7&lblank; A burning devil take them!] Alluding to the venereal disease, formerly called the brenning or burning. M. Mason. So, in Isaiah, iii. 24: “&lblank; and burning instead of beauty.” Steevens.

Note return to page 942 8My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.] The hint for this dream of Andromache might be either taken from Lydgate, or the following passage in Chaucer's Nonnes Prestes Tale, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 15, 147: “Lo hire Andromacha, Hectores wif, “That day that Hector shulde lese his lif, “She dremed on the same night beforne, “How that the lif of Hector shuld be lorne, “If thilke day he went into battaile: “She warned him, but it might not availle; “He went forth for to fighten natheles, “And was yslain anon of Achilles.” Steevens. ‘My dreams of last night will prove ominous to the day;’ forebode ill to it, and show that it will be a fatal day to Troy. So, in the seventh scene of this Act: “&lblank; the quarrel's most ominous to us.” Again, in King Richard III.: “&lblank; O thou bloody prison, “Fatal and ominous to noble peers!” Mr. Pope, and all the subsequent editors, read—will prove ominous to-day. Malone. Do we gain any thing more than rough versification by restoring the article—the? The meaning of Andromache (without it) is —“My dreams will to-day be fatally verified. Steevens. We gain the author's text instead of a capricious alteration, and thus perform the first duty of an editor. Malone.

Note return to page 943 9&lblank; dear petition,] Dear, on this occasion, seems to mean important, consequential. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; some dear cause “Will in concealment wrap me up awhile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 944 1&lblank; peevish &lblank;] i. e. foolish. So, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “&lblank; I will not so presume, “To send such peevish tokens to a king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 945 2For we would give, &c.] This is so oddly confused in the folio, that I transcribe it as a specimen of incorrectness: “&lblank; do not count it holy, “To hurt by being just; it is as lawful “For we would count give much to as violent thefts, “And rob in the behalf of charity.” Johnson. I believe we should read: “For we would give much, to use violent thefts,” i. e. to use violent thefts, because we would give much. The word count had crept in from the last line but one. Tyrwhitt. I have adopted the emendation proposed by Mr. Tyrwhitt. Mr. Rowe cut the knot, instead of untying it, by reading: “For us to count we give what's gain'd by theft,” and all the subsequent editors have copied him. The last three lines are not in the quarto, the compositor's eye having probably passed over them; in consequence of which the next speech of Cassandra is in that copy given to Andromache, and joined with the first line of this. In the first part of Andromache's speech she alludes to a doctrine which Shakspeare has often enforced. “Do not you think you are acting virtuously by adhering to an oath, if you have sworn to do amiss.” So, in King John: “&lblank; where doing tends to ill, “The truth is then most done, not doing it.” Malone.

Note return to page 946 3It is the purpose,] The mad prophetess speaks here with all the coolness and judgment of a skilful casuist. “The essence of a lawful vow, is a lawful purpose, and the vow of which the end is wrong must not be regarded as cogent.” Johnson.

Note return to page 947 4Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate:] If this be not a nautical phrase, which I cannot well explain or apply, perhaps we should read: “Mine honour keeps the weather off my fate:” i. e. I am secured by the cause I am engaged in; mine honour will avert the storms of fate, will protect my life amidst the dangers of the field.—A somewhat similar phrase occurs in The Tempest: “In the lime grove that weather-fends our cell.” Steevens. To keep the weather, I apprehend, is the same as to take the wind, to have the superiority. Boswell.

Note return to page 948 5&lblank; dear man &lblank;] Valuable man. The modern editions read —brave man. The repetition of the word is in our author's manner. Johnson. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.” Steevens. Brave was substituted for dear by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 949 6Which better fits a lion,] The traditions and stories of the darker ages abounded with examples of the lion's generosity. Upon the supposition that these acts of clemency were true, Troilus reasons not improperly, that to spare against reason, by mere instinct of pity, became rather a generous beast than a wise man. Johnson. Thus, in Philemon Holland's translation of Pliny's Natural History, ch. 16: “The lion alone of all wild beasts is gentle to those that humble themselves before him, and will not touch any such upon their submission, but spareth what creature soever lieth prostrate before him.” Steevens. Hence Spenser's Una, attended by a lion. Fairy Queen, I. iii. 7. See also Sir Perceval's lion in Morte Arthur, b. xiv. c. vi. T. Warton.

Note return to page 950 7When many times the captive Grecians fall, &lblank; You bid them rise, and live.] Shakspeare seems not to have studied the Homeric character of Hector, whose disposition was by no means inclined to clemency, as we may learn from Andromache's speech in the 24th Iliad: &grO;&grus; &grg;&graa;&grr; &grm;&grea;&gri;&grl;&gri;&grk;&gro;&grst; &gresa;&grs;&grk;&gre; &grp;&gra;&grt;&grhg;&grr; &grt;&gre;&grog;&grst; &gres;&grn; &grd;&gra;&gri; &grl;&gru;&grg;&grr;&grhc;. “For thy stern father never spar'd a foe.” Pope. “Thy father, boy, bore never into fight “A milky mind &lblank;.” Cowper. Steevens.

Note return to page 951 8Hector, then 'tis wars.] I suppose, for the sake of metre, we ought to read: “Why, Hector, then 'tis wars.” Shakspeare frequently uses this adverb emphatically, as in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Ninus' tomb, man: Why, you must not speak that yet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 952 9&lblank; with fiery truncheon &lblank;] We have here but a modern Mars. Antiquity acknowledges no such ensign of command as a truncheon. The spirit of the passage however is such as might atone for a greater impropriety. In Elizabetha Triumphans, 1588, a poem, in blank verse, written by James Aske, on the defeat of the Spanish armada, the Queen appears, indeed, “Most brauely mounted on a stately steede, “With truncheon in her hand &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 953 1&lblank; with recourse of tears;] i. e. tears that continue to course one another down the face. Warburton. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; the big round tears “Cours'd one another down his innocent nose &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 954 *Quarto omits this hemistich.

Note return to page 955 2&lblank; shame respect;] i. e. disgrace the respect I owe you, by acting in opposition to your commands. Steevens.

Note return to page 956 3O farewell, dear Hector,] The interposition and clamorous sorrow of Cassandra were copied by our author from Lydgate. Steevens.

Note return to page 957 4&lblank; shrills her dolours &lblank;] So, in Spenser's Epithalamium: “Hark, how the minstrels gin to shrill aloud “Their merry musick,” &c. Again, in Heywood's Silver Age, 1613: “Through all th' abyss I have shrill'd thy daughter's loss, “With my concave trump.” Steevens.

Note return to page 958 5Behold, destruction, frenzy, &c.] So the quarto. The editor of the folio, for destruction substituted distraction. The original reading appears to me far preferable. Malone.

Note return to page 959 6In the folios, and one of the quartos, this scene is continued by the following dialogue between Pandarus and Troilus, which the poet certainly meant to have been inserted at the end of the play, where the three concluding lines of it are repeated in the copies already mentioned. There can be no doubt but that the players shuffled the parts backward and forward, ad libitum; for the poet would hardly have given us an unnecessary repetition of the same words, nor have dismissed Pandarus twice in the same manner. The conclusion of the piece will fully justify the liberty which any future commentator may take in omitting the scene here and placing it at the end, where at present only the few lines already mentioned are to be found. Steevens. I do not conceive that any editor has a right to make the transposition proposed, though it has been done by Mr. Capell. The three lines alluded to by Mr. Steevens, which are found in the folio at the end of this scene, as well as near the conclusion of the play, (with a very slight variation,) are these: “Pand. Why but hear you— “Tro. Hence, broker lacquey! Ignomy and shame “Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!” But in the original copy in quarto there is no repetition (except of the words—But hear you); no absurdity or impropriety. In that copy the following dialogue between Troilus and Pandarus is found in its present place precisely as it is here given; but the three lines above quoted do not constitute any part of the scene. For the repetition of those three lines, the players, or the editor of the folio, alone are answerable. It never could have been intended by the poet. I have therefore followed the original copy. Malone.

Note return to page 960 7&lblank; cursed,] i e. under the influence of a malediction, such as mischievous beings have been supposed to pronounce upon those who had offended them. Steevens.

Note return to page 961 8O' the other side, The policy of those crafty swearing rascals, &c.] But in what sense are Nestor and Ulysses accused of being swearing rascals? What, or to whom, did they swear? I am positive that sneering is the true reading. They had collogued with Ajax, and trimmed him up with insincere praises, only in order to have stirred Achilles's emulation. In this, they were the true sneerers; betraying the first, to gain their ends on the latter by that artifice. Theobald. Sneering was applicable to the characters of Nestor and Ulysses, and to their conduct in this play; but swearing was not. M. Mason.

Note return to page 962 9&lblank; to proclaim barbarism,] To set up the authority of ignorance, to declare that they will be governed by policy no longer. Johnson.

Note return to page 963 1Art thou of blood, and honour?] This is an idea taken from the ancient books of romantick chivalry, as is the following one in the speech of Diomedes: “And am her knight by proof.” Steevens. It appears from Segar on Honor, Military and Civil, folio, 1602, p. 122, that a person of superior birth might not be challenged by an inferior, or if challenged, might refuse the combat: Alluding to this circumstance Cleopatra says: “These hands do lack nobility, that they strike “A meaner than thyself.” We learn from Melvil's Memoirs, p. 165, edit. 1735, that “the Laird of Grange offered to fight Bothwell, who answered, that he was neither Earl nor Lord, but a Baron; and so was not his equal. The like answer made he to Tullibardine. Then my Lord Lindsay offered to fight him, which he could not well refuse. But his heart failed him, and he grew cold on the business.” These punctilios are well ridiculed in Albumazar, Act IV. Sc. VII. Reed.

Note return to page 964 2&lblank; take thou Troilus' horse;] So, in Lydgate: “That Troilus by maine and mighty force “At unawares, he cast down from his horse, “And gave it to his squire for to beare “To Cressida,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 965 3Hath beat down Menon:] So, in Caxton's Recuyl, &c.: “And by grete yre assayllid the kynge Menon, cosyn of Achilles, and gaf hym so many strokes wyth his sword upon hys helme, that he slewe hym,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 966 4&lblank; bastard Margarelon &lblank;] The introduction of a bastard son of Priam, under the name of Margarelon, is one of the circumstances taken from the story book of The Three Destructions of Troy. Theobald. The circumstance was taken from Lydgate, p. 194: “Which when the valiant knight, Margareton, “One of king Priam's bastard children,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 967 5&lblank; waving his beam,] i. e. his lance like a weaver's beam, as Goliath's spear is described. So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. iii. vii. 40: “All were the beame in bignes like a mast.” Steevens.

Note return to page 968 6&lblank; pashed &lblank;] i. e. bruised, crushed. So, before, Ajax says: “I'll pash him o'er the face.” Steevens.

Note return to page 969 7the dreadful Sagittary Appals our numbers;] “Beyonde the royalme of Amasonne came an auncyent kynge, wyse and dyscreete, named Epystrophus, and brought a M. knyghtes, and a mervayllouse beste that was called sagittayre, that behynde the myddes was an horse, and to fore, a man: this beste was heery like an horse, and had his eyen rede as a cole, and shotte well with a bowe: this beste made the Grekes sore aferde, and slewe many of them with his bowe.” The Three Destructions of Troy, printed by Caxton. Theobald. A more circumstantial account of this Sagittary is to be found in Lydgate's Auncient Historie, &c. 1555: “And with hym Guydo sayth that he hadde “A wonder archer of syght meruaylous, “Of fourme and shap in maner monstruous: “For lyke myne auctour as I reherse can, “Fro the nauel vpwarde he was man, “And lower downe lyke a horse yshaped: “And thilke parte that after man was maked, “Of skinne was black and rough as any bere “Couered with here fro colde him for to were. “Passyng foule and horrible of syght, “Whose eyen twain were sparkeling as bright “As is a furneis with his rede leuene, “Or the lyghtnyng that falleth from ye heauen; “Dredeful of loke, and rede as fyre of chere, “And, as I reade, he was a goode archer; “And with his bowe both at euen and morowe “Upon Grekes he wrought moche sorrowe, “And gasted them with many hydous loke: “So sterne he was that many of them quoke,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 970 8&lblank; on Galathe his horse,] From The Three Destructions of Troy is taken this name given to Hector's horse. Theobald. “Cal'd Galathe (the which is said to have been) “The goodliest horse,” &c. Lydgate, p. 142. Again, p. 175: “And sought, by all the means he could, to take “Galathe, Hector's horse,” &c. Heywood, in his Iron Age, 1632, has likewise continued the same appellation to Hector's horse: “My armour, and my trusty Galatee,” Heywood has taken many circumstances in his play from Lydgate. John Stephens, the author of Cinthia's Revenge, 1613, (a play commended by Ben Jonson in some lines prefixed to it,) has mounted Hector on an elephant. Steevens.

Note return to page 971 9&lblank; scaled sculls &lblank;] Sculls are great numbers of fishes swimming together. The modern editors not being acquainted with the term, changed it into shoals. My knowledge of this word is derived from Bullokar's English Expositor, London, printed by John Legatt, 1616. The word likewise occurs in Lyly's Midas, 1592: “He hath, by this, started a covey of bucks, or roused a scull of pheasants.” The humour of this short speech consists in a misapplication of the appropriate terms of one amusement to another. Again, in Milton's Paradise Lost, b. vii. v. 399, &c.: “&lblank; each bay “With fry innumerable swarms, and shoals “Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales “Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft “Bank the mid sea.” Again, in the 26th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “My silver-scaled sculs about my streams do sweep.” Steevens. Scaled means here dispersed, put to flight. See Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. I. This is proved decisively by the original reading of the quarto, scaling, which was either changed by the poet himself to scaled, (with the same sense,) or by the editor of the folio. If the latter was the case, it is probable that not being sufficiently acquainted with our author's manner, who frequently uses the active for the passive participle, he supposed that the epithet was merely descriptive of some quality in the thing described. The passage quoted above from Drayton does not militate against this interpretation. There the added epithet silver shows that the word scaled is used in its common sense; as the context here (to say nothing of the evidence arising from the reading of the oldest copy) ascertains it to have been employed with the less usual signification already stated. “The cod from the banks of Newfoundland (says a late writer) pursues the whiting, which flies before it even to the southern shores of Spain. The cachalot, a species of whale, is said, in the same manner, to pursue a shoal of herrings, and to swallow hundreds in a mouthful.” Knox's Hystory of Fish, 8vo. 1787. The throat of the cachalot (the species of whale alluded to by Shakspeare) is so large, that, according to Goldsmith, he could with ease swallow an ox. Malone. Sculls and shoals have not only one and the same meaning, but are actually, or at least originally, one and the same word. A scull of herrings (and it is to those fish that the speaker alludes) so termed on the coast of Norfolk and Suffolk, is elsewhere called a shoal. Ritson.

Note return to page 972 1&lblank; the belching whale;] So, in Pericles: “&lblank; the belching whale, “And humming water, must o'erwhelm thy corse.” Homer also compares Achilles to a dolphin driving other fishes before him, Iliad xxi. v. 22: &GRWr;&grst; &grd; &grur;&grp;&grog; &grd;&gre;&grl;&grf;&gri;&grn;&gro;&grst; &grm;&gre;&grg;&gra;&grk;&grha;&grt;&gre;&gro;&grst; &gris;&grx;&grq;&grua;&gre;&grst; &grasa;&grl;&grl;&gro;&gri; &grf;&gre;&grua;&grg;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst;, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 973 2&lblank; the strawy Greeks,] In the folio it is—the straying Greeks. Johnson.

Note return to page 974 3&lblank; the mower's swath:] Swath is the quantity of grass cut down by a single stroke of the mower's scythe. So, Tusser: “With tossing and raking, and setting on cocks, “Grass, lately in swathes, is meat for an ox.” Steevens.

Note return to page 975 4&lblank; we draw together.] This remark seems to be made by Nestor in consequence of the return of Ajax to the field, he having lately refused to co-operate or draw together with the Greeks, though at present he is roused from his sullen fit by the loss of a friend. So, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “'Tis the swaggering coach-horse Anaides, that draws with him there.” Steevens.

Note return to page 976 5&lblank; boy-queller,] i. e. murderer of a boy. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; a man-queller and a woman-queller.” Steevens.

Note return to page 977 6&lblank; I will not look upon.] That is, (as we should now speak,) I will not be a looker-on. So, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act II. Sc. III.: “Why stand we here— “Wailing our losses,— “And look upon, as if the tragedy “Were play'd in jest by counterfeited actors?” These lines were written by Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 978 7&lblank; you cogging Greeks;] This epithet has no particular propriety in this place, but the author had heard of Græcia mendax. Johnson. Surely the epithet had propriety, in respect of Diomedes at least, who had defrauded him of his mistress. Troilus bestows it on both, unius ob culpam. A fraudulent man, as I am told, is still called, in the North, a gainful Greek. Cicero bears witness to this character of the ancient Greeks: “Testimoniorum religionem et fidem nunquam ista natio coluit.” Again: “Græcorum ingenia ad fallendum parata sunt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 979 8&lblank; by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,] So, in King John: “&lblank; by the light that shines above our heads.” Steevens.

Note return to page 980 9&lblank; carry him;] i. e. prevail over him. So, in All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; The count he wooes your daughter, “Resolves to carry her &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 981 *First folio, thou end.

Note return to page 982 2&lblank; I like thy armour well;] This circumstance is taken from Lydgate's poem, p. 196: “&lblank; Guido in his historie doth shew “By worthy Hector's fall, who coveting “To have the sumptuous armour of that king, &c.   “So greedy was thereof, that when he had “The body up, and on his horse it bare,   “To have the spoil thereof such haste he made “That he did hang his shield without all care   “Behind him at his back, the easier   “To pull the armour off at his desire, “And by that means his breast clean open lay,” &c. This furnished Shakspeare with the hint for the following line: “I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek.” Steevens. I quote from the original, 1555: “&lblank; in this while a Grekish king he mette, “Were it of hap or of adventure, “The which in sothe on his cote armoure “Embrouded had full many ryche stone, “That gave a lyght, when the sonne shone, “Full bryght and cleare, that joye was to sene, “For perles white and emerawdes grene “Full many one were therein sette.— “Of whose arraye when Hector taketh hede, “Towardes him fast gan him drawe. “And fyrst I fynde how he hath him slawe, “And after that by force of his manheade “He hent him up afore him on his stede, “And fast gan wyth him for to ryde “From the wardes a lytell out of syde, “At good leyser playnly, if he maye, “To spoyle him of his rych arraye.— “On horse-backe out whan he him ladde, “Recklessly the storye maketh mynde “He caste his shelde at his backe behynde, “To weld him selfe at more libertye,— “So that his brest disarmed was and bare.” Malone.

Note return to page 983 3I'll frush it,] The word frush I never found elsewhere, nor understand it. Sir T. Hanmer explains it, to break or bruise. Johnson. Mr. M. Mason observes, that “Hanmer's explanation appears to be right: and the word frush, in this sense, to be derived from the verb froisser, to bruise, or break to pieces.” To frush a chicken, &c. is a term in carving, as ancient as Wynkyn de Worde's book on that subject, 1508; and was succeeded by another phrase, which we may suppose to have been synonymous, viz.—to “break up a capon;” words that occur in Love's Labour's Lost. Holinshed (as Mr. Tollet has observed) employs the verb—to frush, in his Description of Ireland, p. 29: “When they are sore frusht with sickness, or too farre withered with age.” The word seems to be sometimes used for any action of violence by which things are separated, disordered, or destroyed. So, in Hinde's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606: “High cedars are frushed with tempests, when lower shrubs are not touched with the wind.” Again, in Hans Beer-pot's Invisible Comedy, &c. 1618: “And with mine arm to frush a sturdy lance.” Again, in The History of Helyas Knight of the Swan, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; smote him so courageously with his sworde, that he frushed all his helm, wherewith the erle fell backward,” &c. Again, in Stanyhurst's translation of the first book of Virgil's Æneid, 1582: “All the frushe and leavings of Greeks, of wrathful Achilles.” Again: “&lblank; yf that knight Antheus haplye “Were frusht, or remanent,” &c. Again, in Sir John Mandevile's account of the magical entertainments exhibited before the Grete Chan, p. 285: “And then they make knyghts to jousten in armes full lustyly, &c.—and they fruschen togidere full fiercely.” Again, in Fairfax's Tasso; “Rinaldo's armour frush'd and hack'd they had.” Steevens. The meaning of the word is ascertained by the following passage in The Destruction of Troy, a book which Shakspeare certainly had before him when he wrote this play: “Saying these wordes, Hercules caught by the head poor Lychas,—and threw him against a rocke so fiercely that hee to-frushed and all to-burst his bones, and so slew him.” Malone.

Note return to page 984 4&lblank; execute your arms.] To execute their arms is to employ them; to put them to use. A similar expression occurs in Othello, where Iago says: “Witness that here Iago doth give up “The execution of his wit, hands, heart, “To wrong'd Othello's service.” And in Love's Labour's Lost, Rosaline says to Biron: “Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, “Which you on all estates will execute.” M. Mason. A phrase nearly similar occurs in Froissart's Chronicle, vol. ii. cap. lxxviii.: “Then the nexte daye Syr John Holande and Syr Raynolde Roy were armed and mounted on theyr horses and soo came to a fayre place redy sanded where they sholde doo theyr armes.” Fo. lxxxx. Steevens.

Note return to page 985 5A bastard son of Priam's.] Bastard, in ancient times, was a reputable appellation. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act I. Sc. II.: “Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.” See note on this passage. See also Pope's note on v. 93, Iliad V. and on v. 343, Iliad VIII. Steevens.

Note return to page 986 6Even with the vail &lblank;] The vail is, I think, the sinking of the sun; not veil or cover. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure, “vail your regard upon,” signifies, —Let your notice descend upon, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 987 7Strike, fellows, strike;] This particular of Achilles overpowering Hector by numbers, and without armour, is taken from the old story-book. Hanmer. Hector, in Lydgate's poem, falls by the hand of Achilles; but it is Troilus who, having been inclosed round by the Myrmidons, is killed after his armour had been hewn from his body, which was afterwards drawn through the field at the horse's tail. The Oxford editor, I believe, was misinformed; for in the old story-book of The Three Destructions of Troy, I find likewise the same account given of the death of Troilus. Heywood, in his Rape of Lucrece, 1638, seems to have been indebted to some such work as Sir T. Hanmer mentions: “Had puissant Hector by Achilles' hand “Dy'd in a single monomachie, Achilles “Had been the worthy; but being slain by odds, “The poorest Myrmidon had as much honour “As faint Achilles, in the Trojan's death.” It is not unpleasant to observe with what vehemence Lydgate, who in the grossest manner has violated all the characters drawn by Homer, takes upon him to reprehend the Grecian poet as the original offender. Thus, in his fourth book: “Oh thou, Homer, for shame be now red, “And thee amase that holdest thy selfe so wyse, “On Achylles to set suche great a pryse “In thy bokes for his chivalrye, “Above echone that dost hym magnyfye, “That was so sleyghty and so full of fraude, “Why gevest thou hym so hye a prayse and laude?” Steevens.

Note return to page 988 *First folio omits next.

Note return to page 989 †Quarto, come, Troy.

Note return to page 990 9On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.] “&GRHs;&grr;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grq;&gra; &grm;&grea;&grg;&gra; &grk;&gruc;&grd;&gro;&grst;&grcolon; &gres;&grp;&grea;&grf;&grn;&gro;&grm;&gre;&grn; &GREra;&grk;&grt;&gro;&grr;&gra; &grd;&gric;&gro;&grn;, “&GRWsc; &grT;&grr;&grwc;&gre;&grst; &grk;&gra;&grt;&grag; &grasa;&grs;&grt;&gru;, &grq;&gre;&grwc; &grwrg;&grst;, &gre;&grus;&grx;&gre;&grt;&groa;&grw;&grn;&grt;&gro;. Iliad XXII. v. 393. Malone..

Note return to page 991 1The dragon wing of night &lblank;] See vol. v. p. 281. Malone.

Note return to page 992 2And, stickler-like,] A stickler was one who stood by to part the combatants when victory could be determined without bloodshed. They are often mentioned by Sidney. “Anthony (says Sir Thomas North, in his translation of Plutarch,) was himself in person a stickler to part the young men when they had fought enough.” They were called sticklers, from carrying sticks or staves in their hands, with which they interposed between the duellists. We now call these sticklers—sidesmen. So, again, in a comedy, called, Fortune by Land and Sea, by Heywood and Rowley: “&lblank; 'tis not fit that every apprentice should with his shop-club play between us the stickler.” Again, in the tragedy of Faire Mariam, 1613: “And was the stickler 'twixt my heart and him.” Again, in Fuimus Troes, 1633: “As sticklers in their nation's enmity.” Steevens. Minsheu gives the same etymology, in his Dictionary, 1617: “A stickler betweene two, so called as putting a sticke or staffe betweene two fighting or fencing together.” Malone. Sticklers are arbitrators, judges, or, as called in some places, sidesmen. At every wrestling in Cornwall, before the games begin, a certain number of sticklers are chosen, who regulate the proceedings, and determine every dispute. The nature of the English language, as I conceive, does not allow the derivation of stickler from stick, which, as a word, it has not the remotest connection with. Sticker (stic-kle-er) is immediately from the verb stickle, to interfere, to take part with, to busy one's self in any matter. Ritson. Whatever might be Mr. Ritson's notions as to the nature of the English language, there can be no doubt that the word stickler was derived from stick. What follows was communicated to me by Sir Joseph Banks. “My memorandum respecting stickler is this: ‘1st Henry 6, A. D. 1422. The King commuted under the authority of Parliament with the Prior and Convent of Inychester for certain privileges enjoy'd by them within the Royal Park of Clarendon, one of which was to have a person called a Stickler employed daily in cutting wood in the King's Park for the use of the Convent.’” Cotton's Records of Parliament, p. 565. Malone.

Note return to page 993 3My half supp'd sword, &c.] These four despicable verses as well as the rhyming fit with which “the blockish Ajax” is afterwards seized, could scarce have fallen from the pen of our author, in his most unlucky moments of composition. Steevens. Whatever may have been the remainder of this speech, as it came out of Shakspeare's hands, we may be confident that this bombast stuff made no part of it. Our author's gold was stolen, and the thief's brass left in its place. Ritson. Perhaps this play was hastily altered by Shakspeare from an elder piece, which the reader will find mentioned in p. 223, n. 1. Some of the scenes therefore he might have fertilized, and left others as barren as he found them. Steevens.

Note return to page 994 4Along the field I will the Trojan trail.] Such almost (changing the name of Troilus for that of Hector) is the argument of Lydgate's 31st chapter, edit. 1555: “How Achilles slewe the worthy Troylus unknyghtly, and after trayled his body through the fyelde tyed to his horse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 995 *First folio, a man as good.

Note return to page 996 5Never go home; &c.] This line is in the quarto given to Troilus. Johnson.

Note return to page 997 6&lblank; smile at Troy!] Thus the ancient copies; but it would better agree with the rest of Troilus's wish, were we to read, with a former editor: “&lblank; smite at Troy! “I say, at once!” Steevens. There can be no doubt but we should read—smite at, instead of smile.—The following words, “I say, at once,” make that unquestionable. To call upon the heavens to frown, and on the Gods to smile, at the self-same moment, would be too absurd even for that violent agitation of mind with which Troilus is supposed to be actuated. M. Mason. Smite was introduced into the text by Sir Thomas Hanmer, and adopted by Dr. Warburton. I believe the old reading is the true one. Mr. Upton thinks that Shakspeare had the Psalmist in view. “He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh them to scorn; the Lord shall have them in derision.” Psalm ii. 4. “The Lord shall laugh him to scorn; for he hath seen that his day is coming.” Psalm xxxvii. 13. In the passage before us, (he adds,) “the heavens are the ministers of the Gods to execute their vengeance, and they are bid to frown on; but the Gods themselves smile at Troy; they hold Troy in derision, for its day is coming.” Malone.

Note return to page 998 7Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives.] I adopt the conjecture of a deceased friend, who would read—welland, i. e. weeping Niobes. The Saxon termination of the participle in and, for ing, is common in our old poets, and often corrupted at the press. So, in Spenser: “His glitterand armour shined far away.” Where the common editions have—glitter and. Whalley. There is surely no need of emendation. Steevens.

Note return to page 999 8Cold &lblank;] The first folio—Coole. Steevens.

Note return to page 1000 9&lblank; pight &lblank;] i. e. pitched, fixed. The obsolete preterite and participle passive of to pitch. So, Spenser: “Then brought she me into this desert vast,   “And by my wretched lover's side me pight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1001 1&lblank; with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.] This couplet affords a full and natural close of the play; and though I once thought differently, I must now declare my firm belief that Shakspeare designed it should end here, and that what follows is either a subsequent and injudicious restoration from the elder drama, mentioned in p. 223, or the nonsense of some wretched buffoon, who represented Pandarus. When the hero of the scene was not only alive, but on the stage, our author would scarce have trusted the conclusion of his piece to a subordinate character, whom he had uniformly held up to detestation. It is still less probable that he should have wound up his story with a stupid outrage to decency, and a deliberate insult on his audience.—But in several other parts of this drama I cannot persuade myself that I have been reading Shakspeare. As evident an interpolation is pointed out at the end of Twelfth-Night. Steevens. The lines of Pandarus are evidently an epilogue to this play, the purpose of which, like modern epilogues, was to dismiss the audience in good humour. As well, in my opinion, might the lines uttered by Prospero at the end of The Tempest be rejected as those before us. Malone.

Note return to page 1002 2Hence, broker lackey!] Thus the quarto and folio. For broker the editor of the second folio substituted brother, which, in the third, was changed to brothel. Broker, in our author's time, signified a bawd of either sex. So, in King John: “This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1003 3&lblank; ignomy and shame &lblank;] Ignomy was used, in our author's time, for ignominy. So, in Henry IV. Part I. Act V. Sc. IV. “Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave.” Malone.

Note return to page 1004 4&lblank; loved,] Quarto; desir'd, folio. Johnson.

Note return to page 1005 5&lblank; set this in your painted cloths.] i. e. the painted canvas with which your rooms are hung. See vol. vi. p. 434, n. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 1006 6Some galled goose of Winchester &lblank;] The publick stews were anciently under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Winchester. Pope. Mr. Pope's explanation may be supported by the following passage in one of the old plays, of which my negligence has lost the title: “Collier! how came the goose to be put upon you? “I'll tell thee: The term lying at Winchester in Henry the Third's days, and many French women coming out of the Isle of Wight thither, &c. there were many punks in the town,” &c. A particular symptom in the lues venerea was called a Winchester goose. So, in Chapman's comedy of Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “&lblank; the famous school of England call'd Winchester, famous I mean for the goose,” &c. Again, Ben Jonson, in his poem called An Execration on Vulcan: “&lblank; this a sparkle of that fire let loose, “That was lock'd up in the Winchestrian goose, “Bred on the Bank in time of popery, “When Venus there maintain'd her mystery.” In an ancient satire, called Cocke Lorelles Bote, bl. l. printed by Wynkyn de Worde, no date, is the following list of the different residences of harlots: “There came such a wynde fro Winchester, “That blewe these women over the ryver, “In wherye, as I wyll you tell: “Some at saynt Kateryns stroke agrounde, “And many in Holborne were founde, “Some at sainte Gyles I trowe: “Also in Ave Maria Aly, and at Westmenster; “And some in Shordyche drewe theder, “With grete lamentacyon; “And by cause they have lost that fayre place, “They wyll bylde at Colman hedge in space,” &c. Hence the old proverbial simile—“As common as Coleman Hedge:” now Coleman Street. Steevens. As the publick stews were under the controul of the Bishop of Winchester, a strumpet was called a Winchester goose, and a galled Winchester goose may mean, either a strumpet that had the venereal disease, or one that felt herself hurt by what Pandarus had said. It is probable that the word was purposely used to express both these senses. It does not appear to me, from the passage cited by Steevens, that any symptom of the venereal disease was called a Winchester goose. M. Mason. Cole, in his Latin Dict. 1669, renders a Winchester-goose by pudendagra. Malone. There are more hard bombastical phrases in the serious part of this play, than, I believe, can be picked out of any other six plays of Shakspeare. Take the following specimens: Tortive,—persistive, —protractive,—importless,—insisture,—deracinate.—dividable. And in the next Act: Past-proportion,—unrespective,— propugnation,—self-assumption,—self-admission,—assubjugate,— kingdom'd, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 1007 7&lblank; I'll sweat,] i. e. adopt the regimen then used for curing what Pistol calls “the malady of France.” Thus, says the Bawd, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; what with the sweat, &c. I am custom-shrunk.” See note on Timon of Athens, Act IV. Sc. III. Steevens.

Note return to page 1008 8This play is more correctly written than most of Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those in which either the extent of his views or elevation of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story abounded with materials, he has exerted little invention; but he has diversified his characters with great variety, and preserved them with great exactness. His vicious characters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and contemned. The comick characters seem to have been the favourites of the writer; they are of the superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners than nature; but they are copiously filled and powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of Thersites, of which it makes no mention, is a proof that this play was written after Chapman had published his version of Homer. Johnson. The first seven books of Chapman's Homer were published in the year 1596, and again in 1598. They were dedicated as follows: “To the most honoured now living instance of the Achilleian virtues eternized by divine Homere, the Earle of Essexe, Earl Marshall, &c.” The whole twenty-four books of the Iliad appeared in 1611. An anonymous interlude, called Thersytes his Humours and Conceits, had been published in 1598. Puttenham also, in his Arte of English Poesie, 1589, p. 35, makes mention of “Thersites the glorious Noddie,” &c. Steevens. The interlude of Thersites was, I believe, published long before 1598. That date was one of the numerous forgeries of Chetwood the Prompter, as well as the addition to the title of the piece—“Thersites his Humours and Conceits;” for no such words are found in the catalogue published in 1671, by Kirkman, who appears to have seen it. Malone. A copy of the interlude of Thersytes was discovered a few years ago, and an account of it is given in the British Bibliographer, vol. i. p. 172, from which it appears to have been acted as early as 1537. It does not seem likely to have furnished any hints to Shakspeare. The classical reader may be surprised that our author, having had the means of being acquainted with the great Father of Poetry through the medium of Chapman's translation, should not have availed himself of such an original instead of Lydgate's Troye Booke; but it should be recollected that it was his object as a writer for the stage, to coincide with the feelings and prejudices of his audience, who, believing themselves to have drawn their descent from Troy, would by no means have been pleased to be told that Achilles was a braver man than Hector. They were ready to think well of the Trojans as their ancestors, but not very anxious about knowing their history with much correctness, and Shakspeare might have applied to worse sources of information than even Lydgate. Of this Hardyng's Chronicle will supply a ludicrous instance: “Lamedone gat the kyng Priamus, “Who made agayne his palais Ilion, “And Troyes citie also more glorious “Then thei were before their subvercion “And royall without pervercion, “In joye and myrth thei stode many a yere, “And Achilles with him his brother dere.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1009 10208002P. 409. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and potatoe finger, tickles these together.] Luxuria was the appropriate term used by the school divines, to express the sin of incontinence, which accordingly is called luxury in all our old English writers. In the Summæ Theologiæ Compendium of Thomas Aquinas, P. 2. II. Quæst. CLIV. is de Luxuriæ Partibus, which the author distributes under the heads of Simplex Fornicatio, Adulterium, Incestus, Stuprum, Raptus, &c. and Chaucer, in his Parson's Tale, descanting on the seven deadly sins, treats of this under the title De Luxuria. Hence, in King Lear, our author uses the word in this particular sense: “To't, Luxury, pell-mell, for I want soldiers.” And Middleton, in his Game of Chess: “&lblank; in a room fill'd all with Aretine's pictures, “(More than the twelve labours of Luxury,) “Thou shalt not so much as the chaste pummel see “Of Lucrece' dagger.” But why is luxury, or lasciviousness, said to have a potatoe finger? —This root, which was, in our author's time, but newly imported from America, was considered as a rare exotick, and esteemed a very strong provocative. As the plant is so common now, it may entertain the reader to see how it is described by Gerard, in his Herbal, 1597, p. 780: “This plant, which is called of some Skyrrits of Peru, is generally of us called Potatus, or Potatoes.—There is not any that hath written of this plant;—therefore, I refer the description thereof unto those that shall hereafter have further knowledge of the same. Yet I have had in my garden divers roots (that I bought at the Exchange in London) where they flourished until winter, at which time they perished and rotted. They are used to be eaten roasted in the ashes. Some, when they be so roasted, infuse them and sop them in wine; and others, to give them the greater grace in eating, do boil them with prunes. Howsoever they be dressed, they comfort, nourish, and strengthen the bodie, procure bodily lust, and that with great greediness.” Drayton, in the 20th Song of his Polyolbion, introduces the same idea concerning the skirret: “The skirret, which, some say, in sallets stirs the blood.” Shakspeare alludes to this quality of potatoes in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Let the sky rain potatoes, hail kissing comfits, and snow eringoes; let a tempest of provocation come.” Ben Jonson mentions potatoe pies in Every Man out of his Humour, among other good unctuous meats. So, T. Heywood, in The English Traveller, 1633: “Caviare, sturgeon, anchovies, pickled oysters; yes “And a potatoe pie: besides all these, “What thinkest rare and costly.” Again, in The Dumb Knight, 1633: “&lblank; truly I think a marrow-bone pye, candied eringoes, preserved dates, or marmalade of cantharides, were much better harbingers; cock-sparrows stew'd, dove's brains, or swans' pizzles, are very provocative; roasted potatoes, or boiled skirrets are your only lofty dishes.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “If she be a woman, marrow-bones and potatoe-pies keep me,” &c. Again, in A Chaste Maid of Cheapside, by Middleton, 1620: “You might have spar'd this banquet of eringoes, “Artichokes, potatoes, and your butter'd crab; “They were fitter kept for your own wedding dinner.” Again, in Chapman's May-day, 1611: “a banquet of oyster-pies, skirret-roots, potatoes, eringoes, and divers other whet-stones of venery.” Again, in Decker's If This Be Not A Good Play The Devil Is In It, 1612: “Potatoes eke, if you shall lack “To corroborate the back.” Again, in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “&lblank; by Gor, an me had known dis, me woode have eat som potatos, or ringoe.” Again, in Sir W. D'Avenant's Love and Honour, 1619: “You shall find me a kind of sparrow, widow; “A barley-corn goes as far as a potatoe.” Again, in The Ghost, 1640: “Then, the fine broths I daily had sent to me, “Potatoe pasties, lusty marrow-pies,” &c. Again, in Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, 1610: “Give your play-gull a stool, and your lady her fool,   “And her usher potatoes and marrow.” Nay, so notorious were the virtues of this root, that W. W. the old translator of the Menœchmi of Plautus, 1595, has introduced them into that comedy. When Menæchmus goes to the house of his mistress Erotium to bespeak a dinner, he adds, “Harke ye, some oysters, a mary-bone pie or two, some artichockes, and potato-roots; let our other dishes be as you please.” Again, in Greene's Disputation between a Hee Coneycatcher and a Shee Coneycatcher, 1592: “I pray you, how many badde proffites againe growes from whoores. Bridewell woulde have verie fewe tenants, the hospitall would wante patientes, and the surgians much woorke: the apothecaries would have surphaling water and potato-roots lye deade on their handes.” Again, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “&lblank; 'tis your only dish, above all your potatoes or oyster-pies in the world.” Again, in The Elder Brother, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “A banquet—well, potatoes and eringoes, “And as I take it, cantharides—Excellent!” Again, in The Loyal Subject, by the same authors: “Will you lordship please to taste a fine potato? “'Twill advance your wither'd state, “Fill your honour full of noble itches,” &c. Again, in The Martial Maid, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Will your ladyship have a potatoe-pie? 'tis a good stirring dish for an old lady after a long lent.” Again, in The Sea Voyage, by the same authors: “&lblank; Oh, for some eringoes, “Potatoes, or cantharides!” Again: “See provoking dishes, candied eringoes “And potatoes.” Again, in The Picture, by Massinger: “&lblank; he hath got a pye “Of marrow-bones, potatoes and eringoes.” Again, in Massinger's New Way To Pay Old Debts: “&lblank; 'tis the quintessence “Of five cocks of the game, ten dozen of sparrows, “Knuckles of veal, potatoe-roots and marrow, “Coral and ambergris,” &c. Again, in The Guardian, by the same author: “&lblank; Potargo, “Potatoes, marrow, caviare &lblank;.” Again, in The City Madam, by the same: “&lblank; prescribes my diet, and foretells “My dreams when I eat potatoes.” Taylor the Water-poet likewise, in his character of a Bawd, ascribes the same qualities to this genial root. Again, Decker, in his Gul's Hornbook, 1609: Potato-pies and custards stood like the sinful suburbs of cookery,” &c. Again, in Marston's Satires, 1599: “&lblank; camphire and lettice chaste, “Are now cashier'd—now Sophi 'ringoes eate, “Candi'd potatoes are Athenians' meate.” Again, in Holinshed's Chronicle, Description of England, p. 167: “Of the potato and such venerous roots, &c. I speake not.” Lastly, in Sir John Harrington's Metamorphosis of Ajax, 1596: “Perhaps you have been used to your dainties of potatoes, of caveare, eringus, plums of Genowa, all which may well encrease your appetite to severall evacuations.” In The good Huswives Jewell, a book of cookery published in 1596, I find the following receipt to make a tarte that is a courage to a man or woman: “Take two quinces, and twoo or three burre rootes and a POTATON; and pare your POTATON and scrape your roots, and put them into a quarte of wine, and let them boyle till they bee tender, and put in an ounce of dates, and when they be boiled tender, drawe them through a strainer, wine and all, and then put in the yolkes of eight eggs, and the braynes of three or four cocke-sparrowes, and straine them into the other, and a little rose-water, and seeth them all with sugar, cinnamon, and ginger, and cloves, and mace; and put in a little sweet butter, and set it upon a chafing-dish of coles between two platters, to let it boyle till it be something bigge.” Gerard elsewhere observes, in his Herbal, that “potatoes may serve as a ground or foundation whereon the cunning confectioner or sugar-baker may worke and frame many comfortable conserves and restorative sweetmeats.” The same venerable botanist likewise adds, that the stalk of clotburre, “being eaten rawe with salt and pepper, or boiled in the broth of fat meat, is pleasant to be eaten, and stirreth up venereal motions. It likewise strengtheneth the back,” &c. Speaking of dates, he says, that “thereof be made divers excellent cordial comfortable and nourishing medicines, and that procure lust of the body very mightily.” He also mentions quinces as having the same virtues. We may likewise add, that Shakspeare's own authority for the efficacacy of quinces and dates is not wanting. He has certainly introduced them both as proper to be employed in the wedding dinner of Paris and Juliet: “They call for dates and quinces in the pasty.” It appears from Dr. Campbell's Political Survey of Great Britain, that potatoes were brought into Ireland about the year 1610, and that they came first from Ireland into Lancashire. It was, however, forty years before they were much cultivated about London. At this time they were distinguished from the Spanish by the name of Virginia potatoes,—or battatas, which is the Indian denomination of the Spanish sort. The Indians in Virginia called them openank. Sir Walter Raleigh was the first who planted them in Ireland. Authors differ as to the nature of this vegetable, as well as in respect of the country from whence it originally came. Switzer calls it Sisarum Peruvianum, i. e. the skirret of Peru. Dr. Hill says it is a solanum; and another very respectable naturalist conceives it to be a native of Mexico. The accumulation of instances in this note is to be regarded as a proof how often dark allusions might be cleared up, if commentators were diligent in their researches. Collins.

Note return to page 1010 ON THE STORY OF THIS PLAY. Of Lollius, the supposed inventor of this story, it will become every one to speak with diffidence. Until something decisive relating to him shall occur, it is better to conclude with Mr. Tyrwhitt, that Chaucer borrowed the greatest part of his admirable story from Boccaccio's Philostrato; and that he either invented the rest altogether, or obtained it from some completer copy of the Philostrato than that which we now possess. What Dryden has said of Lollius is entirely destitute of proof, and appears to be nothing more than an inference from Chaucer's own expressions. It would be a matter of extreme difficulty to ascertain, with any sort of precision, when and in what manner the story of Troilus and Cressida first made its appearance. Whether the author of the Philostrato was the first who detailed it so minutely as it is there found, remains to be decided; but it is certain that so much of it as relates to the departure of Cressida from Troy, and her subsequent amour with Diomed, did exist long before the time of Boccaccio. The work in which it is most known at present is the Troy book of Guido of Colonna, composed in 1287, and as he states, from Dares Phygius, and Dictys Cretensis, neither of whom mentions the name of Cressida. Mr. Tyrwhitt, as it has eventually proved, had with his usual penetration and critical acuteness, suspected that Guido's Dares was in reality an old Norman French poet named Benoit de Saint More, who wrote in the reign of our Henry the Second, and who himself made use of Dares. This work seems to be the earliest authority now remaining. The task which Mr. Tyrwhitt had declined, has on this occasion been submitted to; and the comparison has shown that Guido, whose performance had long been regarded as original, has only translated the Norman writer into Latin. It is most probable that he found Benoit's work when he came into England, as he is recorded to have done; and that, pursuing a practice too prevalent in the middle ages, he dishonestly suppressed the mention of his real original. What has been advanced by Mr. Warton and some other writers respecting an old French romance under the name of Troilus and Cressida will not carry the story a moment higher: because this French romance is in fact nothing more than a much later performance, about the year 1400, compiled by Pierre de Beauvau from the Philostrato itself. This has been strangely confounded with several other French works on the Troy story related with great variety of circumstances, all or most of which were modelled on that of Guido of Colonna or his original: citing, as they had done, the supposititious histories of Dictys and Dares. It is worth while to embrace this opportunity of mentioning, for the first time, that there is a prose French version of Benoit's metrical romance; but when made, or by whom, does not appear in a MS, of it transcribed at Verona in 1320. Lydgate professedly followed Guido of Colonna, occasionally making use of and citing other authorities. In a short time afterwards Raoul le Fevre compiled from various materials his Recueil des Histoires de Troye, which was translated into English and published by Caxton: but neither of these authors has given more of the story of Troilus and Cressida than any of the other romances on the war of Troy; Lydgate contenting himself with referring to Chaucer. Of Raoul le Fevre's work, often printed, there is a fine MS. in the British Museum, Bibl. Reg. 17, E. II., under the title of Hercules, that must have belonged to Edward the Fourth, in which Raoul's name is entirely and unaccountably suppressed. The above may serve as a slight sketch of the romances on the history of the wars of Troy; to describe them all particularly would fill a volume. It remains to inquire concerning the materials that were used in the construction of this play. Mr. Steevens informs us that Shakspeare received the greatest part of them from the Troy book of Lydgate. It is presumed that the learned commentator would have been nearer the fact had he substituted the Troy book or recueyl translated by Caxton from Raoul le Fevre; which, together with a translation of Homer, supplied the incidents of the Trojan war. Lydgate's work was becoming obsolete, whilst the other was at this time in the prime of its vigour. From its first publication to the year 1619, it had passed through six editions, and continued to be popular even in the eighteenth century. Mr. Steevens is still less accurate in stating Le Fevre's work to be a translation from Guido of Colonna; for it is only in the latter part that he has made any use of him. Yet Guido actually had a French translator before the time of Raoul; which translation, though never printed, is remaining in MS. under the whimsical title of “La vie de la piteuse destruction de la noble supellative cité de Troy le grant. Translatée en Francois lan MCCCLXXX;” and at the end it is called “Listoire tres plaisant de la destruction de Troy la grant.” Such part of our play as relates to the loves of Troilus and Cressida was most probably taken from Chaucer, as no other work, accessible to Shakspeare, could have supplied him with what was necessary. Douce.

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