Note return to page 1 *Varrius might be omitted, for he is only once spoken to, and says nothing. Johnson.

Note return to page 2 1Since I am put to know,] May mean, I am compelled to acknowledge. So, in King Henry VI. Part II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; had I first been put to speak my mind.” Again, in Drayton's Legend of Pierce Gaveston: “My limbs were put to travel day and night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 3 2&lblank; lists &lblank;] Bounds, limits. Johnson. So, in Othello: “Confine yourself within a patient list.” Again, in Hamlet: “The ocean, over-peering of his list &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 4 3&lblank; Then no more remains, But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them work.] To the integrity of this reading Mr. Theobald objects, and says, What was Escalus to put to his sufficiency? why, his science: But his science and sufficiency were but one and the same thing. On what then does the relative them depend? He will have it, therefore, that a line has been accidentally dropped, which he attempts to restore thus: “But that to your sufficiency you add “Due diligence, as your worth is able,” &c. Nodum in scirpo quærit. And all for want of knowing, that by sufficiency is meant authority, the power delegated by the Duke to Escalus. The plain meaning of the word being this: ‘Put your skill in governing (says the Duke) to the power which I give you to exercise it, and let them work together.’ Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer having caught from Mr. Theobald a hint that a line was lost, endeavours to supply it thus: “&lblank; Then no more remains, “But that to your sufficiency you join “A will to serve us, as your worth is able.” He has, by this bold conjecture, undoubtedly obtained a meaning, but, perhaps, not even in his own opinion, the meaning of Shakspeare. That the passage is more or less corrupt, I believe every reader will agree with the editors. I am not convinced that a line is lost, as Mr. Theobald conjectures, nor that the change of but to put, which Dr. Warburton has admitted after some other editor, [Rowe,] will amend the fault. There was probably some original obscurity in the expression, which gave occasion to mistake in repetition or transcription. I therefore suspect that the author wrote thus: “&lblank; Then no more remains, “But that to your sufficiencies your worth is abled, “And let them work.” ‘Then nothing remains more than to tell you, that your virtue is now invested with power equal to your knowledge and wisdom. Let therefore your knowledge and your virtue now work together.’ It may easily be conceived how sufficiencies was, by an inarticulate speaker, or inattentive hearer, confounded with sufficiency as, and how abled, a word very unusual, was changed into able. For abled, however, an authority is not wanting. Lear uses it in the same sense, or nearly the same, with the Duke. As for sufficiencies, D. Hamilton, in his dying speech, prays that Charles II. may exceed both the virtues and sufficiencies of his father. Johnson. “&lblank; Then no more remains, “But that sufficiency, as worth is able, “And let them work.” Then no more remains to say, but that your political skill is on a par with your private integrity, and let these joint qualifications exert themselves in the public service. “But that sufficiency to your worth is abled,” i. e. a power equal to your deserts. The uncommon redundancy, as well as obscurity, of this verse, may be considered as evidence of its corruption. Take away the second and third words, and the sense joins well enough with what went before. “Then (says the Duke) no more remains to say, “But your sufficiency as your worth is able, “And let them work.” i. e. “Your skill in government is, in ability to serve me, equal to the integrity of your heart, and let them co-operate in your future ministry.” The versification requires that either something should be added, or something retrenched. The latter is the easier, as well as the safer task. I join in the belief, however, that a line is lost; and whoever is acquainted with the inaccuracy of the folio, (for of this play there is no other old edition,) will find my opinion justified. Steevens. Some words seem to be lost here, the sense of which, perhaps, may be thus supplied: “&lblank; Then no more remains, “But that to your sufficiency you put “A zeal as willing as your worth is able, “And let them work.” Tyrwhitt. A phrase similar to that which Mr. Tyrwhitt would supply, occurs in Chapman's version of the sixth Iliad: “&lblank; enough will is not put “To thy abilitie.” Steevens. I agree with Warburton in thinking that by sufficiency the Duke means authority, or power; and, if that be admitted, a very slight alteration indeed will restore this passage—the changing the word is into be. It will then run thus, and be clearly intelligible: “&lblank; Then no more remains, “But that your own sufficiency, as your worth, be able, “And let them work.” That is, you are thoroughly acquainted with your duty, so that nothing more is necessary to be done, but to invest you with power equal to your abilities. M. Mason. “&lblank; Then no more remains, “But that to your sufficiency ** as your worth is able, “And let them work.” I have not the smallest doubt that the compositor's eye glanced from the middle of the second of these lines to that under it in the MS. and that by this means two half lines have been omitted. The very same error may be found in Macbeth, edit. 1632: “&lblank; which, being taught, return, “To plague the ingredients of our poison'd chalice “To our own lips.” instead of— “&lblank; which, being taught, return, “To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice “Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice,” &c. Again, in Much Ado about Nothing, edit. 1623, p. 103: “And I will break with her. Was't not to this end,” &c. instead of— “And I will break with her, and with her father, “And thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end,” &c. Again, in Romeo and Juliet, folio, 1623: “And hither shall he come, and that very night “Shall Romeo,” &c. instead of— “And hither shall he come, and he and I “Will watch thy waking, and that very night “Shall Romeo,” &c. The following passage, in King Henry IV. Part I. which is constructed in a manner somewhat similar to the present when corrected, appears to me to strengthen the supposition that two half lines have been lost: “Send danger from the east unto the west, “So honour cross it from the north to south, “And let them grapple.” Sufficiency is skill in government; ability to execute his office. “And let them work,” a figurative expression; “Let them ferment.” Malone.

Note return to page 5 4&lblank; the terms &lblank;] Terms mean the technical language of the courts. An old book called Les Termes de la Ley, (written in Henry the Eighth's time,) was in Shakspeare's days, and is now, the accidence of young students in the law. Blackstone.

Note return to page 6 5&lblank; the terms For common justice, you are as pregnant in,] The later editions all give it, without authority— “&lblank; the terms “Of justice, &lblank;” and Dr. Warburton makes terms signify bounds or limits. I rather think the the Duke meant to say, that Escalus was pregnant, that is, ready and knowing in all the forms of the law, and, among other things, in the terms or times set apart for its administration. Johnson. The word pregnant is used with this signification in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611, where a lawyer is represented reading: “In tricessimo primo Alberti Magni &lblank; “'Tis very cleare—the place is very pregnant.” i. e. very expressive, ready, or very big with apposite meaning. Again, “&lblank; the proof is most pregnant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 7 6For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply;] By the words with special soul elected him, I believe, the poet meant no more than that he was the immediate choice of his heart. A similar expression occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; with private soul, “Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.” Again, more appositely, in The Tempest: “&lblank; for several virtues “Have I lik'd several women, never any “With so full soul, but some defect,” &c. Steevens. Steevens has hit upon the true explanation of the passage; and might have found a further confirmation of it in Troilus and Cressida, where, speaking of himself, Troilus says: “&lblank; ne'er did young man fancy “With so eternal, and so fix'd a soul.” To do a thing with all one's soul, is a common expression. M. Mason. “&lblank; we have with special soul &lblank;” This seems to be only a translation of the usual formal words inserted in all royal grants:— “De gratia nostra speciali, et ex mero motu &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 8 7There is a kind of character in thy life, That, to the observer, &c.] Either this introduction has more solemnity than meaning, or it has a meaning which I cannot discover. What is there peculiar in this, that a man's life informs the observer of his history? Might it be supposed that Shakspeare wrote this? “There is a kind of character in thy look.” History may be taken in a more diffuse and licentious meaning, for future occurrences, or the part of life yet to come. If this sense be received, the passage is clear and proper. Johnson. Shakspeare must, I believe, be answerable for the unnecessary pomp of this introduction. He has the same thought in Henry IV. Part II. which affords some comment on this passage before us: “There is a history in all men's lives, “Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd: “The which observ'd, a man may prophecy “With a near aim, of the main chance of things “As yet not come to life,” &c. Steevens. On considering this passage, I am induced to think that the words character and history have been misplaced, and that it was originally written thus: “There is a kind of history in thy life, “That to the observer doth thy character “Fully unfold.” This transposition seems to be justified by the passage quoted by Steevens from The Second Part of Henry IV. M. Mason.

Note return to page 9 8&lblank; thy belongings &lblank;] i. e. endowments. Malone.

Note return to page 10 9Are not thine own so proper,] i. e. are not so much thy own property. Steevens.

Note return to page 11 1&lblank; them on thee.] The old copy reads—they on thee. Steevens. Corrected by Sir Thomas Hanmer. Malone.

Note return to page 12 2&lblank; for if our virtues, &c.] Paulum sepultæ distat inertiæ Celata virtus. Hor. Theobald. Again, in Massinger's Maid of Honour: “Virtue, if not in action, is a vice, “And, when we move not forward, we go backward.” Thus, in the Latin adage—“Non progredi est regredi.” Steevens.

Note return to page 13 3&lblank; to fine issues:] To great consequences; for high purposes. Johnson.

Note return to page 14 4&lblank; nor nature never lends &lblank;] Two negatives, not employed to make an affirmative, are common in our author. So, in Julius Cæsar: “There is no harm intended to your person, “Nor to no Roman else.” Steevens.

Note return to page 15 5&lblank; she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use.] i. e. She (Nature) requires and allots to herself the same advantages that creditors usually enjoy,— thanks for the endowments she has bestowed, and extraordinary exertions in those whom she hath thus favoured, by way of interest for what she has lent. Use, in the phraseology of our author's age, signified interest of money. Malone.

Note return to page 16 6&lblank; I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advértise;] This is obscure. The meaning is, I direct my speech to one who is able to teach me how to govern; my part in him, signifying my office, which I have delegated to him. My part in him advértise; i. e. who knows what appertains to the character of a deputy or viceroy. Can advertise my part in him; that is, his representation of my person. But all these quaintnesses of expression the Oxford editor seems sworn to extirpate; that is, to take away one of Shakspeare's characteristic marks; which, if not one of the comeliest, is yet one of the strongest. So he alters this to— “To one that can, in my part me advértise.” A better expression, indeed, but, for all that, none of Shakspeare's. Warburton. I know not whether we may not better read— “One that can, my part to him advértise.” One that can inform himself of that which it would be otherwise my part to tell him. Johnson. To advertise is used in this sense, and with Shakspeare's accentuation, by Chapman, in his version of the eleventh book of the Odyssey: “Or, of my father, if thy royal ear “Hath been advértis'd &lblank;.” Steevens. I believe, the meaning is—I am talking to one who is himself already sufficiently conversant with the nature and duties of my office;—of that office, which I have now delegated to him. So, in Timon of Athens: “It is our part, and promise to the Athenians, “To speak with Timon.” Malone.

Note return to page 17 7Hold therefore, Angelo;] That is, continue to be Angelo; hold as thou art. Johnson. I believe that—“Hold therefore, Angelo,” are the words which the Duke utters on tendering his commission to him. He concludes with—“Take thy commission.” Steevens. If a full point be put after therefore, the Duke may be understood to speak of himself. Hold therefore, i. e. Let me therefore hold, or stop. And the sense of the whole passage may be this.— The Duke, who has begun an exhortation to Angelo, checks himself thus: “But I am speaking to one, that can in him [in or by himself] apprehend my part [all that I have to say]: I will therefore say no more [on that subject].” He then merely signifies to Angelo his appointment. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 18 8Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart.] That is, “I delegate to thy tongue the power of pronouncing sentence of death, and to thy heart the privilege of exercising mercy.” These are words of great import, and ought to be made clear, as on them depends the chief incident of the play. Douce.

Note return to page 19 9&lblank; first in question,] That is, first called for; first appointed. Johnson.

Note return to page 20 1We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice &lblank;] Leaven'd choice is one of Shakspeare's harsh metaphors. His train of ideas seems to be this: I have proceeded to you with choice mature, concocted, fermented, leavened. When bread is leavened it is left to ferment: a leavened choice is, therefore, a choice not hasty, but considerate; not declared as soon as it fell into the imagination, but suffered to work long in the mind. Thus explained, it suits better with prepared than levelled [Pope's reading]. Johnson.

Note return to page 21 2&lblank; bring you something on the way.] i. e. accompany you. So, in A Woman Kill'd with Kindness, by Heywood, 1617: “She went very lovingly to bring him on his way to horse.” And the same mode of expression is to be found in almost every writer of the times. Reed.

Note return to page 22 3&lblank; your scope is as mine own;] That is, your amplitude of power. Johnson.

Note return to page 23 4&lblank; to stage me to their eyes:] So, in one of Queen Elizabeth's speeches to parliament, 1586: “We princes, I tel you, are set on stages, in the sight and viewe of all the world,” &c. See The Copy of a Letter to the Right Honourable the Earle of Leycester, &c. 4to. 1586. Steevens.

Note return to page 24 5Lucio.] This name may have been suggested by Turberville's Tragical Tales, p. 103, where we find: “One Luzio a roysting roague.” Malone.

Note return to page 25 *First folio, do.

Note return to page 26 6&lblank; in metre?] In the primers there are metrical graces, such as, I suppose, were used in Shakspeare's time. Johnson.

Note return to page 27 7In any proportion, &c.] Proportion signifies measure; and refers to the question, What? in metre? Warburton. This speech is improperly given to Lucio. It clearly belongs to the second Gentleman, who had heard grace “a dozen times at least.” Ritson.

Note return to page 28 8Grace is grace, despite of all controversy:] Satirically insinuating, that the controversies about grace were so intricate and endless, that the disputants unsettled every thing but this, that grace was grace; which, however, in spite of controversy, still remained certain. Warburton. I am in doubt whether Shakspeare's thoughts reached so far into ecclesiastical disputes. Every commentator is warped a little by the tract of his own profession. The question is, whether the second gentleman has ever heard grace. The first gentleman limits the question to grace in metre. Lucio enlarges it to grace in any form or language. The first gentleman, to go beyond him, says, or in any religion, which Lucio allows, because the nature of things is unalterable; grace is as immutably grace, as his merry antagonist is a wicked villain. Difference in religion cannot make a grace not to be grace, a prayer not to be holy; as nothing can make a villain not to be a villain. This seems to be the meaning, such as it is. Johnson.

Note return to page 29 9&lblank; there went but a pair of sheers between us.] We are both of the same piece. Johnson. So, in The Maid of the Mill, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “There went but a pair of sheers and a bodkin between them.” Steevens. The same expression is likewise found in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “There goes but a pair of sheers betwixt an emperor and the son of a bagpiper; only the dying, dressing, pressing, and glossing, makes the difference.” Malone.

Note return to page 30 1&lblank; pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French velvet.] The jest about the pile of a French velvet, alludes to the loss of hair in the French disease, a very frequent topick of our author's jocularity. Lucio finding that the gentleman understands the distemper so well, and mentions it so feelingly, promises to remember to drink his health, but to forget to drink after him. It was the opinion of Shakspeare's time, that the cup of an infected person was contagious. Johnson. The jest lies between the similar sound of the words pill'd and pil'd. This I have elsewhere explained, under a passage in Henry VI. Part I. Act I. Sc. IV.: “Pill'd priest thou liest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 31 9Behold, behold, where madam Mitigation comes!] In the old copy, this speech, and the next but one, are attributed to Lucio. The present regulation was suggested by Mr. Pope. What Lucio says afterwards, “A French crown more,” proves that it is right. He would not utter a sarcasm against himself. Malone.

Note return to page 32 1To three thousand dollars a-year.] A quibble intended between dollars and dolours. Hanmer. The same jest occurs in The Tempest. Johnson.

Note return to page 33 2A French crown more.] Lucio means here not the piece of money so called, but that venereal scab, which among the surgeons is styled corona Veneris. To this, I think, our author likewise makes Quince allude in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Some of your French crowns have no hair at all; and then you will play bare-faced.” For where these eruptions are, the skull is carious, and the party becomes bald. Theobald. So, in The Return from Parnassus, 1606: “I may chance indeed to give the world a bloody nose; but it shall hardly give me a crack'd crown, though it gives other poets French crowns.” Again, in the Dedication to Gabriel Harvey's Hunt Is Up, 1598: “&lblank; never metst with any requital, except it were some few French crownes, pil'd friers crownes,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 34 3&lblank; thy bones are hollow;] So Timon, addressing himself to Phrynia and Timandra: “Consumptions sow “In hollow bones of man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 35 4&lblank; what with the sweat,] This may allude to the sweating sickness, of which the memory was very fresh in the time of Shakspeare: [see Dr. Freind's History of Physick, vol. ii. p. 335,] but more probably to the method of cure then used for the diseases contracted in brothels. Johnson. So, in the comedy of Doctor Dodypoll, 1600: “You are very moist, sir: did you sweat all this, I pray? “You have not the disease, I hope.” Steevens.

Note return to page 36 5&lblank; what has he done? Clo. A woman.] The ancient meaning of the verb to do, (though now obsolete,) may be guess'd at from the following passages: “Chiron. Thou hast undone our mother. “Aaron. Villain, I've done thy mother.” Titus Andronicus. Again, in Ovid's Elegies, translated by Marlowe, printed at Middlebourg, no date: “The strumpet with the stranger will not do, “Before the room is clear, and door put to.” Again, in The Maid's Tragedy, Act II. Evadne, while undressing, says,— “I am soon undone.” Dula answers, “And as soon done.” Hence the name of Over-done, which Shakspeare has appropriated to his bawd. Collins.

Note return to page 37 6&lblank; in a peculiar river.] i. e. a river belonging to an individual; not public property. Malone.

Note return to page 38 7All houses in the suburbs &lblank;] This is surely too general an expression, unless we suppose, that all the houses in the suburbs were bawdy-houses. It appears too, from what the Bawd says below, “But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down?” that the Clown had been particular in his description of the houses which were to be pulled down. I am therefore inclined to believe that we should read here, all bawdy-houses, or all houses of resort in the suburbs. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 39 8But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pull'd down?] This will be understood from the Scotch law of James's time, concerning huires (whores): “that comoun women be put at the utmost endes of townes, queire least perril of fire is.” Hence Ursula the pig-woman, in Bartholomew-Fair: “I, I, gamesters, mock a plain, plump, soft wench of the suburbs, do!“ Farmer. So, in The Malcontent, 1604, when Altofront dismisses the various characters at the end of the play to different destinations, he says to Macquerelle the bawd: “&lblank; thou unto the suburbs.” Again, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “Some fourteen bawds; he kept her in the suburbs.” See Martial, where summæniana and suburbana are applied to prostitutes. Steevens. The licensed houses of resort at Vienna are at this time all in the suburbs, under the permission of the Committee of Chastity. S. W.

Note return to page 40 9Thomas Tapster?] Why does she call the clown by this name, when it appears from his own showing that his name was Pompey? Perhaps she is only quoting some old saying, or ballad. Douce. Names were, and still are, applied to different occupations, such as Tom Tapster, Tom Toss-pot, &c. Boswell.

Note return to page 41 1Thus can the demi-god, Authority, Make us pay down for our offence by weight.— The words of heaven;—on whom it will, it will; On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.] The sense of the whole is this: “The demi-god, Authority, makes us pay the full penalty of our offence, and its decrees are as little to be questioned as the words of heaven, which pronounces its pleasure thus, —I punish and remit punishment according to my own uncontroulable will; and yet who can say, what dost thou?”—“Make us pay down for our offence by weight,” is a fine expression to signify paying the full penalty. The metaphor is taken from paying money by weight, which is always exact; not so by tale, on account of the practice of diminishing the species. Warburton. I suspect that a line is lost. Johnson. It may be read,—the sword of heaven. “Thus can the demi-god, Authority, “Make us pay down for our offence, by weight;— “The sword of heaven:—on whom,” &c. Authority is then poetically called the sword of heaven, which will spare or punish, as it is commanded. The alteration is slight, being made only by taking a single letter from the end of the word, and placing it at the beginning. This very ingenious and elegant emendation was suggested to me by the Rev. Dr. Roberts, Provost of Eton; and it may be countenanced by the following passage in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “In brief, they are the swords of heaven to punish.” Sir W. D'Avenant, who incorporated this play of Shakspeare with Much Ado About Nothing, and formed out of them a tragi-comedy called The Law Against Lovers, omits the two last lines of this speech; I suppose, on account of their seeming obscurity. Steevens. The very ingenious emendation proposed by Dr. Roberts, is yet more strongly supported by another passage in the play before us, where this phrase occurs (Act III. Sc. last): “He who the sword of heaven will bear, “Should be as holy, as severe.” Yet I believe the old copy is right. Malone. Notwithstanding Dr. Roberts's ingenious conjecture, the text is certainly right. Authority, being absolute in Angelo, is finely stiled by Claudio, the demi-god. To this uncontroulable power, the poet applies a passage from St. Paul to the Romans, ch. ix. v. 15, 18, which he properly styles, the words of heaven: “for he saith to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy,” &c. And again: “Therefore hath he mercy on whom he will have mercy,” &c. Henley.

Note return to page 42 1(Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,)] To ravin was formerly used for eagerly or voraciously devouring any thing. So, in Wilson's Epistle to the Earl of Leicester, prefixed to his Discourse upon Usurye, 1572: “For these bee the greedie cormoraunte wolfes indeed, that ravyn up both beaste and man.” Reed. Again, in the Dedication to Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 43: “&lblank; ravenest like a beare,” &c. Ravin is an ancient word for prey. So, in Noah's Flood, by Drayton: “As well of ravine, as that chew the cud.” Steevens.

Note return to page 43 2&lblank; when we drink, we die.] So, in Revenge for Honour, by Chapman: “Like poison'd rats, which when they've swallowed “The pleasing bane, rest not until they drink; “And can rest then much less, until they burst.” Steevens.

Note return to page 44 3&lblank; as the morality &lblank;] The old copy has mortality. It was corrected by Sir William D'Avenant. Malone.

Note return to page 45 4I got possession of Julietta's bed; &c.] This speech is surely too indelicate to be spoken concerning Juliet, before her face; for she appears to be brought in with the rest, though she has nothing to say. The Clown points her out as they enter; and yet, from Claudio's telling Lucio, that he knows the lady, &c. one would think she was not meant to have made her personal appearance on the scene. Steevens. The little seeming impropriety there is, will be entirely removed, by supposing that when Claudio stops to speak to Lucio, the Provost's officers depart with Julietta. Ritson. Claudio may be supposed to speak to Lucio apart. Malone.

Note return to page 46 5&lblank; this we came not to, Only for propagation of a dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends;] This singular mode of expression certainly demands some elucidation. The sense appears to be this: “We did not think it proper publickly to celebrate our marriage; for this reason, that there might be no hindrance to the payment of Julietta's portion, which was then in the hands of her friends; from whom, therefore, we judged it expedient to conceal our love till we had gained their favour.” Propagation being here used to signify payment, must have its root in the Italian word pagare. Edinburgh Magazine for November, 1786. I suppose the speaker means—for the sake of getting such a dower as her friends might hereafter bestow on her, when time had reconciled them to her clandestine marriage. The verb—to propagate, is, however, as obscurely employed by Chapman, in his version of the sixteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; to try if we, “Alone, may propagate to victory “Our bold encounters &lblank;.” Again, in the fourth Iliad, by the same translator, 4to. 1598: “&lblank; I doubt not but this night “Even to the fleete to propagate the Greeks' unturned flight.” Steevens. Perhaps we should read—only for prorogation. Malone.

Note return to page 47 6&lblank; the fault and glimpse of newness;] Fault and glimpse have so little relation to each other, that both can scarcely be right: we may read flash for fault; or, perhaps, we may read, “Whether it be the fault or glimpse &lblank;” That is, whether it be the seeming enormity of the action, or the glare of new authority. Yet the same sense follows in the next lines. Johnson. Fault, I apprehend, does not refer to any enormous act done by the deputy, (as Dr. Johnson seems to have thought,) but to newness. The fault and glimpse is the same as the faulty glimpse. And the meaning seems to be—“Whether it be the fault of newness, a fault arising from the mind being dazzled by a novel authority, of which the new governor has yet had only a glimpse,—has yet taken only a hasty survey; or whether,” &c. Shakspeare has many similar expressions. Malone.

Note return to page 48 7&lblank; like unscour'd armour,] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “Like rusty mail in monumental mockery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 49 8So long, that nineteen zodiacks have gone round,] The Duke, in the scene immediately following, says: “Which for these fourteen years we have let slip.” Theobald.

Note return to page 50 9&lblank; But this new governor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall So long,&lblank; Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me:] Lord Strafford, in the conclusion of his Defence in the House of Lords, had, perhaps, these lines in his thoughts: “It is now full two hundred and forty years since any man was touched for this alledged crime, to this height, before myself.— Let us rest contented with that which our fathers have left us; and not awake those sleeping lions, to our own destruction, by raking up a few musty records, that have lain so many ages by the walls, quite forgotten and neglected.” Malone.

Note return to page 51 1&lblank; so tickle &lblank;] i. e. ticklish. This word is frequently used by our old dramatic authors. So, in The True Tragedy of Marius and Scilla, 1594: “&lblank; lords of Asia “Have stood on tickle terms.” Again, in The Widow's Tears, by Chapman, 1612: “&lblank; upon as tickle a pin as the needle of a dial.” Steevens.

Note return to page 52 2&lblank; her approbation:] i. e. enter on her probation, or noviciate. So again, in this play: “I, in probation of a sisterhood.” Again, in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, 1608: “Madam, for a twelvemonth's approbation, “We mean to make the trial of our child.” Malone.

Note return to page 53 3&lblank; prone and speechless dialect,] I can scarcely tell what signification to give to the word prone. Its primitive and translated senses are well known. The author may, by a prone dialect, mean a dialect which men are prone to regard, or a dialect natural and unforced, as those actions seem to which we are prone. Either of these interpretations is sufficiently strained; but such distortion of words is not uncommon in our author. For the sake of an easier sense, we may read: “&lblank; in her youth “There is a pow'r, and speechless dialect, “Such as moves men.” Or thus: “There is a prompt and speechless dialect.” Johnson. Prone, perhaps, may stand for humble, as a prone posture is a posture of supplication. So, in The Opportunity, by Shirley, 1640: “You have prostrate language.” The same thought occurs in The Winter's Tale: “The silence often of pure innocence “Persuades, when speaking fails.” Sir W. D'Avenant, in his alteration of the play, changes prone to sweet: I mention some of his variations, to shew that what appear difficulties to us, were difficulties to him, who, living nearer the time of Shakspeare, might be supposed to have understood his language more intimately. Steevens. Prone, I believe, is used here for prompt, significant, expressive, (though speechless,) as in our author's Rape of Lucrece it means ardent, head-strong, rushing forward to its object: “O that prone lust should stain so pure a bed!” Again, in Cymbeline: “Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw any one so prone.” Malone.

Note return to page 54 4Under grievous imposition;] I once thought it should be inquisition, but the present reading is probably right. “The crime would be under grievous penalties imposed.” Johnson.

Note return to page 55 5&lblank; lost at a game of tick-tack.] Tick-tack is a game at tables. “Joner au tric-trac,” is used in French in a wanton sense. Malone. The same phrase, in Lucio's sportive sense, occurs in Lusty Juventus. Steevens.

Note return to page 56 6Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a cómplete bosom:] Think not that a breast completely armed can be pierced by the dart of love, that comes “fluttering without force.” Johnson. A dribber, in archery, was a term of contempt which perhaps cannot be satisfactorily explained. Ascham, in his Toxophilus, edit. 1589, p. 32, observes: “&lblank; if he give it over, and not use to shoote truly, &c. he shall become of a fayre archer a starke squirter and dribber.” In the second stanza of Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, the same term is applied to the dart of Cupid: “Not at first sight, nor yet with dribbed shot, “Love gave the wound,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 57 7&lblank; the life remov'd;] i. e. a life of retirement, a life remote, or removed, from the bustle of the world. So, in the Prologue to Milton's Masque at Ludlow Castle: I mean the MS. copy in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge: “&lblank; I was not sent to court your wonder “With distant worlds, and strange removed climes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 58 8&lblank; witless bravery &lblank;] Bravery, in the present instance, signifies showy dress. So, in The Taming of a Shrew: “With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 59 9&lblank; keeps.] i. e. dwells, resides. In this sense it is still used at Cambridge, where the students and fellows, referring to their collegiate apartments, always say they keep, i. e. reside there. Reed.

Note return to page 60 1(A man of stricture, and firm abstinence,)] Stricture makes no sense in this place. We should read— “A man of strict ure and firm abstinence.” i. e. a man of the exactest conduct, and practised in the subdual of his passions. Ure is an old word for use, practice: so enur'd, habituated to. Warburton. Stricture may easily be used for strictness; ure is indeed an old word, but, I think, always applied to things, never to persons. Johnson. Sir W. D'Avenant, in his alteration of this play, reads—strictness. Ure is sometimes applied to persons, as well as to things. So, in the old interlude of Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1661: “So shall I be sure “To keep him in ure.” The same word occurs in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “The crafty man oft puts these wrongs in ure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 61 2(The needful bits and curbs for head-strong steeds,)] In the copies— “The needful bits and curbs for head-strong weeds.” There is no manner of analogy or consonance in the metaphors here; and, though the copies agree, I do not think the author would have talked of bits and curbs for weeds. On the other hand, nothing can be more proper, than to compare persons of unbridled licentiousness to head-strong steeds; and, in this view, bridling the passions has been a phrase adopted by our best poets. Theobald.

Note return to page 62 3Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep;] Thus the old copy; which also reads— “&lblank; we have let slip.” Steevens. For fourteen I have made no scruple to replace nineteen. The reason will be obvious to him who recollects what the Duke [Claudio] has said in a foregoing scene. I have altered the odd phrase of “letting the laws slip:” for how does it sort with the comparison that follows, of a lion in his cave that went not out to prey? But letting the laws sleep, adds a particular propriety to the thing represented, and accords exactly too with the simile. It is the metaphor too, that our author seems fond of using upon this occasion, in several other passages of this play: “The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept; “&lblank; 'Tis now awake.” And, so again: “&lblank; but this new governor “Awakes me all the enrolled penalties; “&lblank; and for a name “Now puts the drowsy and neglected act “Freshly on me.” Theobald. The latter emendation may derive its support from a passage in Hamlet: “&lblank; How stand I then, “That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, “Excitements of my reason and my blood, “And let all sleep?” If slip be the true reading, (which, however, I do not believe,) the sense may be,—which for these fourteen years we have suffered to pass unnoticed, unobserved; for so the same phrase is used in Twelfth-Night:—“Let him let this matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capulet.” Mr. Theobald altered fourteen to nineteen, to make the Duke's account correspond with a speech of Claudio's in a former scene, but without necessity. “Claudio would naturally represent the period during which the law had not been put in practice greater than it really was.” Malone. Theobald's correction is misplaced. If any correction is really necessary, it should have been made where Claudio, in a foregoing scene, says nineteen years. I am disposed to take the Duke's words. Whalley.

Note return to page 63 4Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd:] Becomes was added by Mr. Pope, to restore sense to the passage, some such word having been left out. Steevens.

Note return to page 64 5The baby beats the nurse,] This allusion was borrowed from an ancient print, entitled The World turn'd Upside Down, where an infant is thus employed. Steevens.

Note return to page 65 6Sith &lblank;] i. e. since. Steevens.

Note return to page 66 7To do it slander:] The text stood: “So do in slander: &lblank;” Sir Thomas Hanmer has very well corrected it thus: “To do it slander:” Yet, perhaps, less alteration might have produced the true reading: “And yet my nature never, in the sight, “So doing slandered: &lblank;” And yet my nature never suffer slander, by doing any open acts of severity. Johnson. The old text stood, “&lblank; in the fight “To do in slander: &lblank;” Hanmer's emendation is supported by a passage in K. Henry IV. Part I.: “Do me no slander, Douglas, I dare fight.” Steevens. Fight seems to be countenanced by the words ambush and strike. Sight was introduced by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 67 8&lblank; in person bear &lblank;] Mr. Pope reads— “&lblank; my person bear.” Perhaps the word which I have inserted in the text, had dropped out while the sheet was at press. A similar phrase occurs in The Tempest: “&lblank; some good instruction give “How I may bear me here.” Sir W. D'Avenant reads, in his alteration of the play: “I may in person a true friar seem.” The sense of the passage (as Mr. Henley observes) is—“How I may demean myself, so as to support the character I have assumed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 68 9Stands at a guard &lblank;] Stands on terms of defiance. Johnson. This rather means, to stand cautiously on his defence, than on terms of defiance. M. Mason.

Note return to page 69 2&lblank; make me not your story.] Do not, by deceiving me, make me a subject for a tale. Johnson. Perhaps only, “Do not divert yourself with me, as you would with a story;” do not make me the subject of your drama. Benedick talks of becoming—the argument of his own scorn. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “If you have any pity, &c. “You would not make me such an argument.” Sir W. D'Avenant reads—scorn instead of story. After all, the irregular phrase [me, &c.] that, perhaps, obscures this passage, occurs frequently in our author, and particularly in the next scene, where Escalus says: “Come me to what was done to her.”—“Make me not your story,” may therefore signify— “invent not your story on purpose to deceive me.” “It is true,” in Lucio's reply, means—“What I have already told you is true.” Steevens. Mr. Ritson explains this passage, “do not make a jest of me.” Reed. I have no doubt that we ought to read, (as I have printed,) Sir, mock me not:—your story. So, in Macbeth: “Thou com'st to use thy tongue:—thy story quickly.” In King Lear we have— “Pray, do not mock me.” I beseech you, Sir, (says Isabel) do not play upon my fears; reserve this idle talk for some other occasion;—proceed at once to your tale. Lucio's subsequent words, [“Tis true,”—i. e. you are right; I thank you for remembering me;] which, as the text has been hitherto printed, had no meaning, are then pertinent and clear. Mr. Pope was so sensible of the impossibility of reconciling them to what preceded in the old copy, that he fairly omitted them. What Isabella says afterwards fully supports this emendation: “You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me.” I have observed that almost every passage in our author, in which there is either a broken speech, or a sudden transition without a connecting particle, has been corrupted by the carelessness of either the transcriber or compositor. See a note on Love's Labour's Lost, Act II. Sc. I.: “A man of—sovereign, peerless, he's esteem'd.” And another on Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. IV.: “You shames of Rome! you herd of—Boils and plagues “Plaster you o'er!” Malone.

Note return to page 70 3I would not &lblank;] i. e. Be assured, I would not mock you. So afterwards: “Do not believe it:” i. e. Do not suppose that I would mock you. Malone. I am satisfied with the sense afforded by the old punctuation. Steevens.

Note return to page 71 4&lblank; 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing,] The Oxford editor's note on this passage is in these words: “The lapwings fly, with seeming fright and anxiety, far from their nests, to deceive those who seek their young.” And do not all other birds do the same? But what has this to do with the infidelity of a general lover, to whom this bird is compared? It is another quality of the lapwing that is here alluded to, viz. its perpetual flying so low and so near the passenger, that he thinks he has it, and then is suddenly gone again. This made it a proverbial expression to signify a lover's falshood; and it seems to be a very old one: for Chaucer, in his Plowman's Tale, says: “And lapwings that well conith lie.” Warburton. The modern editors have not taken in the whole similitude here: they have taken notice of the lightness of a spark's behaviour to his mistress, and compared it to the lapwing's hovering and fluttering as it flies. But the chief, of which no notice is taken, is,— “&lblank; and to jest.” [See Ray's Proverbs.] “The lapwing cries, tongue far from heart;” i. e. most farthest from the nest; i. e. She is, as Shakspeare has it here,—Tongue far from heart. “The farther she is from her nest, where her heart is with her young ones, she is the louder, or, perhaps, all tongue.” Smith. Shakspeare has an expression of the like kind in his Comedy of Errors: “Adr. Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; “My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.” We meet with the same thought in Lily's Campaspe, 1584, from whence Shakspeare might borrow it: “Alex. &lblank; you resemble the lapwing, who crieth most where her nest is not, and so, to lead me from espying your love for Campaspe, you cry Timoclea.” Grey.

Note return to page 72 5'Tis true. I would not. Though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, Tongue far from heart,—play with all virgins so: &c.] This passage has been pointed in the modern editions thus: “'Tis true:—I would not (though 'tis my familiar sin “With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, “Tongue far from heart) play with all virgins so: “I hold you,” &c. According to this punctuation, Lucio is made to deliver a sentiment directly opposite to that which the author intended. ‘Though 'tis my common practice to jest with and to deceive all virgins, I would not so play with all virgins.’ The sense, as I have regulated my text, appears to me clear and easy. ‘'Tis very true, (says he,) I ought indeed, as you say, to proceed at once to my story. Be assured, I would not mock you. Though it is my familiar practice to jest with maidens, and, like the lapwing, to deceive them by my insincere prattle, though, I say, it is my ordinary and habitual practice to sport in this manner with all virgins, yet I should never think of treating you so; for I consider you, in consequence of your having renounced the world, as an immortal spirit, as one to whom I ought to speak with as much sincerity as if I were addressing a saint.’ Malone. Mr. Malone complains of a contradiction which I cannot find in the speech of Lucio. He has not said that it is his practice to jest with and deceive all virgins. “Though (says he) it is my practice with maids to seem the lapwing, I would not play with all virgins so;” meaning that she herself is the exception to his usual practice. Though he has treated other women with levity, he is serious in his address to her. Steevens.

Note return to page 73 6Fewness and truth, &c.] i. e. in few words, and those true ones. In few, is many times thus used by Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 74 7Your brother and his lover &lblank;] i. e. his mistress; lover, in our author's time, being applied to the female as well as the male sex. Thus, one of his poems, containing the lamentation of a deserted maiden, is entitled, “A Lover's Complaint.” So, in Tarleton's Newes out of Purgatory, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; he spide the fetch, and perceived that all this while this was his lover's husband, to whom he had revealed these escapes.” Malone. The term was applied to the female sex, not only in Shakspeare's time, but even to a very late period. Lady Wortley Montague, in a letter to her husband, speaking of a young girl who forbade the banns of marriage at Huntingdon, calls her lover. See her works, vol. i. p. 238. Blakeway.

Note return to page 75 8&lblank; as blossoming time, That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison; even so &lblank;] As the sentence now stands, it is apparently ungrammatical. I read— “At blossoming time,” &c. That is, As they that feed grow full, so her womb now at blossoming time, at that time through which the seed time proceeds to the harvest, her womb shows what has been doing. Lucio ludicrously calls pregnancy blossoming time, the time when fruit is promised, though not yet ripe. Johnson. Instead of that, we may read—doth; and, instead of brings, bring. Foizon is plenty. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; nature should bring forth, “Of its own kind, all foizon,” &c. Teeming foizon, is abundant produce. Steevens. This passage seems to me to require no amendment; and the meaning of it is this: “As blossoming time proves the good tillage of the farmer, so the fertility of her womb expresses Claudio's full tilth and husbandry.” By blossoming time is meant, the time when the ears of corn are formed. M. Mason. This sentence, as Dr. Johnson has observed, is apparently ungrammatical. I suspect two half lines have been lost. Perhaps however an imperfect sentence was intended, of which there are many instances in these plays:—or, as, might have been used in the sense of like. Tilth is tillage. So, in our author's 3d Sonnet: “For who is she so fair, whose unear'd womb “Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?” Malone.

Note return to page 76 9Bore many gentlemen, &lblank; In hand, and hope of action:] To bear in hand is a common phrase for to keep in expectation and dependance; but we should read: “&lblank; with hope of action.” Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “How you were borne in hand,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 77 1&lblank; with full line &lblank;] With full extent, with the whole length. Johnson.

Note return to page 78 2&lblank; to give fear to use &lblank;] To intimidate use, that is, practices long countenanced by custom. Johnson.

Note return to page 79 3Unless you have the grace &lblank;] That is, the acceptableness, the power of gaining favour. So, when she makes her suit, the Provost says: “Heaven give thee moving graces!” Johnson.

Note return to page 80 4&lblank; my pith Of business &lblank;] The inmost part, the main of my message. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “And enterprises of great pith and moment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 81 5Has censur'd him &lblank;] i. e. sentenced him. So, in Othello: “&lblank; to you, lord governor, “Remains the censure of this hellish villain.” Steevens. We should read, I think, he has censured him, &c. In the MSS. of our author's time, and frequently in the printed copy of these plays, he has, when intended to be contracted, is written— h'as. Hence probably the mistake here. So, in Othello, 4to. 1622: “And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets “H'as done my office.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well, p. 247, folio, 1623, we find H'as twice, for He has. See also Twelfth-Night, p. 258, edit. 1623: “&lblank; h'as been told so,” for “he has been told so.” Yet after all as Shakspeare and the writers of his time frequently omit the personal pronoun, this emendation may be unnecessary. Malone.

Note return to page 82 6All their petitions are as freely theirs &lblank;] All their requests are as freely granted to them, are granted in as full and beneficial a manner, as they themselves could wish. The editor of the second folio arbitrarily reads—as truly theirs; which has been followed in all the subsequent copies. Malone.

Note return to page 83 7&lblank; would owe them.] To owe, signifies in this place, as in many others, to possess, to have. Steevens.

Note return to page 84 8&lblank; the mother &lblank;] The abbess, or prioress. Johnson.

Note return to page 85 9Provost,] A Provost martial, Minsheu explains, “Prevost des mareschaux: Præfectus rerum capitalium, Prætor rerum capitalium.” Reed. A provost is generally the executioner of an army. So, in The Famous History of Thomas Stukely, 1605, bl. l.: “Provost, a lay irons upon him, and take him to your charge.” Again, in The Virgin Martyr, by Massinger: “Thy provost, to see execution done “On these base Christians in Cesarea.” Steevens. A prison for military offenders is at this day, in some places, called the Prevôt. Malone. The Provost here, is not a military officer, but a kind of sheriff or gaoler, so called in foreign countries. Douce.

Note return to page 86 1&lblank; to fear the birds of prey,] To fear is to affright, to terrify. So, in the Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; this aspéct of mine “Hath fear'd the valiant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 87 2Than fall, and bruise to death:] I should rather read fell, i. e. strike down. So, in Timon of Athens: “All save thee, “I fell with curses.” Warburton. Fall is the old reading, and the true one. Shakspeare has used the same verb active in The Comedy of Errors: “&lblank; as easy may'st thou fall “A drop of water &lblank;.” i. e. let fall. So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; the executioner “Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck.” Steevens. “Than fall, and bruise to death:” i. e. fall the axe; or rather let the criminal fall, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 88 3Let but your honour know,] To know is here to examine, to take cognizance. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; “Know of your youth, examine well your blood.” Johnson.

Note return to page 89 4Err'd in this point which now you censure him,] Some word seems to be wanting to make this line sense. Perhaps, we should read: “Err'd in this point which now you censure him for.” Steevens. The sense undoubtedly requires, “&lblank; which now you censure him for,” but the text certainly appears as the poet left it. I have elsewhere shown that he frequently uses these elliptical expressions. See Cymbeline, scene last. Malone.

Note return to page 90 5That justice seizes.] For the sake of metre, I think we should read,—seizes on; or, perhaps, we should regulate the passage thus: “Guiltier than him they try: What's open made “To justice, justice seizes. What know,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 91 6&lblank; What know the laws, That thieves do pass on thieves?] How can the administrators of the laws take cognizance of what I have just mentioned? How can they know, whether the jurymen, who decide on the life or death of thieves, be themselves as criminal as those whom they try. To pass on is a forensick term. Malone. So, in King Lear, Act III. Sc. VII.: “Though well we may not pass upon his life.” See my note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 92 7'Tis very pregnant,] 'Tis plain that we must act with bad as with good; we punish the faults, as we take the advantages that lie in our way, and what we do not see we cannot note. Johnson.

Note return to page 93 8For I have had &lblank;] That is, because, by reason, that I have had such faults. Johnson.

Note return to page 94 9Some rise, &c.] This line is in the first folio printed in Italics as a quotation. All the folios read in the next line: “Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none.” Johnson. The old reading is, perhaps, the true one, and may mean, “some run away from danger, and stay to answer none of their faults, whilst others are condemned only on account of a single frailty.” If this be the true reading, it should be printed: “Some run from breaks [i. e. fractures] of ice,” &c. Since I suggested this, I have found reason to change my opinion. A brake anciently meant not only a sharp bit, a snaffle, but also the engine with which farriers confined the legs of such unruly horses as would not otherwise submit themselves to be shod, or to have a cruel operation performed on them. This, in some places, is still called a smith's brake. In this last sense, Ben Jonson uses the word in his Underwoods: “And not think he had eat a stake, “Or were set up in a brake.” And, for the former sense, see The Silent Woman, Act IV. Again, for the latter sense, Bussy d'Ambois, by Chapman: “Or, like a strumpet, learn to set my face “In an eternal brake.” Again, in The Opportunity, by Shirley, 1610: “He is fallen into some brake, some wench has tied him by the legs.” Again, in Holland's Leaguer, 1633: “&lblank; her I'll make “A stale, to catch this courtier in a brake.” I offer these quotations, which may prove of use to some more fortunate conjecturer; but am able myself to derive very little from them to suit the passage before us. I likewise find from Holinshed, p. 670, that the brake was an engine of torture. “The said Hawkins was cast into the Tower, and at length brought to the brake, called the Duke of Excester's daughter, by means of which pain he shewed many things,” &c. “When the Dukes of Exeter and Suffolk, (says Blackstone, in his Commentaries, vol. iv. chap. xxv. p. 320, 321,) and other ministers of Henry VI. had laid a design to introduce the civil law into this kingdom as the rule of government, for a beginning thereof they erected a rack for torture; which was called in derision the Duke of Exeter's Daughter, and still remains in the Towe of London, where it was occasionally used as an engine of state, not of law, more than once in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.” See Coke's Instit. 35, Barrington, 69, 385, and Fuller's Worthies, p. 317. A part of this horrid engine still remains in the Tower, and the following is the figure of it: It consists of a strong iron frame about six feet long, with three rollers of wood within it. The middle one of these, which has iron teeth at each end, is governed by two stops of iron, and was, probably, that part of the machine which suspended the powers of the rest, when the unhappy sufferer was sufficiently strained by the cords, &c. to begin confession. I cannot conclude this account of it without confessing my obligation to Sir Charles Frederick, who politely condescended to direct my enquiries, while his high command rendered every part of the Tower accessible to my researches. I have since observed that, in Fox's Martyrs, edit. 1596, p. 1843, there is a representation of the same kind. To this also, Skelton, in his Why Come Ye Not to Court, seems to allude: “And with a cole rake “Bruise them on a brake.” If Shakspeare alluded to this engine, the sense of the contested passage will be: “Some run more than once from engines of punishment, and answer no interrogatories; while some are condemned to suffer for a single trespass.” It should not, however, be dissembled, that yet a plainer meaning may be deduced from the same words. By brakes of vice may be meant a collection, a number, a thicket of vices. The same image occurs in Daniel's Civil Wars, b. iv.: “Rushing into the thickest woods of spears, “And brakes of swords,” &c. That a brake meant a bush, may be known from Drayton's poem on Moses and his Miracles: “Where God unto the Hebrew spake, “Appearing from the burning brake.” Again, in The Mooncalf of the same author: “He brings into a brake of briars and thorn, “And so entangles.” Mr. Tollet is of opinion that, by brakes of vice, Shakspeare means only the thorny paths of vice. So, in Ben Jonson's Underwoods, Whalley's edit. vol. vi. p. 367: “Look at the false and cunning man, &c. &lblank; “Crush'd in the snakey brakes that he had past.” Steevens. The words—answer none, (that is, are not called to account for their conduct,) evidently show that brake of vice here means the engine of torture. The same mode of question is again referred to in Act V.: “To the rack with him: we'll touze you joint by joint, “But we will know this purpose.” The name of brake of vice, appears to have been given this machine from its resemblance to that used to subdue vicious horses; to which Daniel thus refers: “Lyke as the brake within the rider's hande “Doth straine the horse nye wood with grief of paine, “Not us'd before to come in such a band,” &c. Henley. I am not satisfied with either the old or present reading of this very difficult passage; yet have nothing better to propose. The modern reading, vice, was introduced by Mr. Rowe. In King Henry VIII. we have— “'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake “That virtue must go through.” Malone.

Note return to page 95 1This comes off well;] This is nimbly spoken; this is volubly uttered. Johnson. The same phrase is employed in Timon of Athens, and elsewhere; but in the present instance it is used ironically. The meaning of it, when seriously applied to speech, is—This is well delivered, this story is well told. Steevens.

Note return to page 96 2Why dost thou not speak, Elbow?] Says Angelo to the constable. “He cannot, sir, (quoth the Clown,) he's out at elbow.” I know not whether this quibble be generally understood: he is out at the word elbow, and out at the elbow of his coat. The constable, in his account of master Froth and the Clown, has a stroke at the Puritans, who were very zealous against the stage about this time: “Precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world, that good Christians ought to have.” Farmer.

Note return to page 97 3&lblank; a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd;] This we should now express by saying, “he is half-tapster, half-bawd.” Johnson. Thus, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; a parcel-gilt goblet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 98 4&lblank; she professes a hot-house,] A hot-house is an English name for a bagnio. So, Ben Jonson: “Where lately harbour'd many a famous whore, “A purging bill now fix'd upon the door, “Tells you it is a hot-house: so it may, “And still be a whore-house.” Johnson. Again, in Goulart's Admirable Histories, &c. 1607: “&lblank; hearing that they were together in a hot-house at an old woman's that dwelt by him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 99 5&lblank; whom I detest &lblank;] He designed to say protest. Mrs. Quickly makes the same blunder in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. IV.: “But, I detest, an honest maid,” &c. Steevens. I think that Elbow, in both instances, uses detest for attest; that is, to call witness. M. Mason.

Note return to page 100 6Ay, sir, by mistress Overdone's means:] Here seems to have been some mention made of Froth, who was to be accused, and some words therefore may have been lost, unless the irregularity of the narrative may be better imputed to the ignorance of the constable. Johnson.

Note return to page 101 7&lblank; stew'd prunes;] Stewed prunes were to be found in every brothel. So, in Maroccus Exstaticus, or Bankes's Bay Horse in a Trance, 1595: “With this stocke of wenches will this trustie Roger and his Bettrice set up, forsooth, with their pamphlet pots and stewed prunes, &c. in a sinful saucer,” &c. See a note on the 3d scene of the 3d Act of the First Part of King Henry IV. In the old copy prunes are spelt, according to vulgar pronunciation, prewyns. Steevens.

Note return to page 102 8&lblank; not China dishes,] A China dish, in the age of Shakspeare, must have been such an uncommon thing, that the Clown's exemption of it, as no utensil in a common brothel, is a striking circumstance in his absurd and tautological deposition. Steevens.

Note return to page 103 9&lblank; in a lower chair,] Every house had formerly, among its other furniture, what was called—a low chair, designed for the ease of sick people, and, occasionally, occupied by lazy ones. Of these conveniencies I have seen many, though, perhaps, at present they are wholly disused. Steevens.

Note return to page 104 1&lblank; open room,] Perhaps from the same root as oven, a warm room. Talbot.

Note return to page 105 1I'll be supposed &lblank;] He means deposed. Malone.

Note return to page 106 2Justice, or Iniquity?] These were, I suppose, two personages well known to the audience by their frequent appearance in the old moralities. The words, therefore, at that time produced a combination of ideas, which they have now lost. Johnson. “Justice, or Iniquity?” i. e. The Constable or the Fool. Escalus calls the latter, Iniquity, in allusion to the old Vice, a familiar character in the ancient moralities and dumb-shews. Justice may have a similar allusion, which I am unable to explain. Iniquitie is one of the personages “in the worthy interlude of Kynge Darius,” 4to. bl. l. no date. And in The First Part of King Henry IV. Prince Henry calls Falstaff,—“that reverend Vice, that grey Iniquity.” Ritson.

Note return to page 107 3&lblank; Hannibal!] Mistaken by the Constable for Cannibal. Johnson.

Note return to page 108 4&lblank; thou art to continue.] Perhaps Elbow, misinterpreting the language of Escalus, supposes the Clown is to continue in confinement; at least, he conceives some severe punishment or other to be implied by the word—continue. Steevens.

Note return to page 109 5&lblank; they will draw you,] Draw has here a cluster of senses. As it refers to the tapster, it signifies to drain, to empty; as it is related to hang, it means to be conveyed to execution on a hurdle. In Froth's answer, it is the same as to bring along by some motive or power. Johnson.

Note return to page 110 6Pompey.] His mistress, in a preceding scene, calls him Thomas Ritson.

Note return to page 111 7&lblank; greatest thing about you;] Greene, in one of his pieces, mentions the “great bumme of Paris.” Again, in Tyro's Roaring Megge, 1598: “Tyro's round breeches have a cliffe behind.” Steevens. Harrison, in his Description of Britain, prefixed to Holinshed's Chronicle, condemns the excess of apparel amongst his countrymen, and thus proceeds: “Neither can we be more justly burdened with any reproche than inordinate behaviour in apparell, for which most nations deride us; as also for that we men doe seeme to bestowe most cost upon our arses, and much more than upon all the rest of our bodies, as women do likewise upon their heads and shoulders.” Should any curious reader wish for more information upon this subject, he is referred to Strutt's Manners and Customs of the English, vol. iii. p. 86. Douce. But perhaps an ancient MS. ballad, entitled, A Lamentable Complaint of the Poor Country Men againste great Hose, for the Losse of there Cattelles Tailes, Mus. Brit. MS. Harl. 367, may throw further light on the subject, This ballad consists of 41 stanzas. From these the following are selected: 5. “For proude and paynted parragenns,   “And monstrous breched beares, “This realme almost hath cleane distroy'd,   “Which I reporte with teares.— 9. “And chefely those of eache degree   “Who monstrous hose delyght, “As monsters fell, have done to us   “Most grevus hurte and spyte.— 11. “As now of late in lesser thinges   “To furnyshe forthe theare pryde, “With woole, with flaxe, with hare also,   “To make theare bryches wyde. 12. “What hurte and damage doth ensew   “And fall upon the poore, “For want of woll and flax of late,   “Which monnstrus hose devore.— 14. “But heare hath so possessed of late   “The bryche of every knave, “That none one beast nor horse can tell   “Which waye his tale to saufe.— 23. “And that with speede to take awaye   “Great bryches as the cause “Of all this hurte, or ealse to make   “Some sharpe and houlsome lawes.— 39. “So that in fyne the charytie   “Whiche Chrysten men should save, “By dyvers wayes is blemyshed,   “To boulster breaches brave. 40. “But now for that noe remedye   “As yet cann wel be founde, “I wolde that suche as weare this heare   “Weare well and trewly bounde, 41. “With every heare a louse to have,   “To stuffe their breyches oute; “And then I trust they wolde not weare   “Nor beare suche baggs about. “Finis.” See also, in the Persones Tale of Chaucer:—“and eke the buttokkes of hem behinde, that faren as it were the hinder part of a she ape in the ful of the mone.” In consequence of a diligent inspection of ancient pictures and prints, it may be pronounced that this ridiculous fashion appeared in the early part of Queen Elizabeth's reign, then declined, and recommenced at the beginning of that of James the First. Steevens.

Note return to page 112 8&lblank; take order &lblank;] i. e. take measures. So, in Othello: “Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.” Steevens.

Note return to page 113 9&lblank; I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three pence a bay:] A bay of building is, in many parts of England, a common term, of which the best conception that ever I could obtain is, that it is the space between the main beams of the roof; so that a barn crossed twice with beams is a barn of three bays. Johnson. “&lblank; that by the yearly birth “The large-bay'd barn doth fill,” &c. I forgot to take down the title of the work from which this instance is adopted. Again, in Hall's Virgidemiarum, lib. iv.: “His rent in faire respondence must arise, “To double trebles of his one yeares price; “Of one bayes breadth, God wot, a silly cote “Whose thatched spars are furr'd with sluttish soote.” Steevens.

Note return to page 114 1&lblank; by your readiness &lblank;] Old copy—the readiness. Corrected by Mr. Pope. In the MSS. of our author's age, ye. and yr. (for so they were frequently written) were easily confounded. Malone.

Note return to page 115 2Save your honour!] Your honour, which is so often repeated in this scene, was in our author's time the usual mode of address to a lord. It had become antiquated after the Restoration; for Sir William D'Avenant, in his alteration of this play, has substituted your excellence in the room of it. Malone.

Note return to page 116 3Stay a little while.] It is not clear why the Provost is bidden to stay, nor when he goes out. Johnson. The entrance of Lucio and Isabella should not, perhaps, be made till after Angelo's speech to the Provost, who had only announced a lady, and seems to be detained as a witness to the purity of the deputy's conversation with her. His exit may be fixed with that of Lucio and Isabella. He cannot remain longer, and there is no reason to think he departs before. Ritson. Stay a little while, is said by Angelo, in answer to the words, Save your honour; which denoted the Provost's intention to depart. Isabella uses the same words to Angelo, when she goes out, near the conclusion of this scene. So also, when she offers to retire, on finding her suit ineffectual: “Heaven keep your honour!” Malone.

Note return to page 117 4For which I must not plead, but that I am At war, 'twixt will, and will not.] This is obscure; perhaps it may be mended by reading: “For which I must now plead; but yet I am “At war, 'twixt will, and will not.” Yet and yt are almost undistinguishable in an ancient manuscript. Yet no alteration is necessary, since the speech is not unintelligible as it now stands. Johnson. “For which I must not plead, but that I am “At war, 'twixt will, and will not.” i. e. for which I must not plead, but that there is a conflict in my breast betwixt my affection for my brother, which induces me to plead for him, and my regard to virtue, which forbids me to intercede for one guilty of such a crime; and I find the former more powerful than the latter. Malone.

Note return to page 118 5&lblank; let it be his fault, And not my brother.] i. e. let his fault be condemned, or extirpated, but let not my brother himself suffer. Malone.

Note return to page 119 6To fine the faults,] To fine means, I think, to pronounce the fine or sentence of the law, appointed for certain crimes. Mr. Theobald, without necessity, reads find. The repetition is much in our author's manner. Malone. Theobald's emendation may be justified by a passage in King Lear: “All's not offence that indiscretion finds, “And dotage terms so.” Steevens.

Note return to page 120 7&lblank; touch'd with that remorse &lblank;] Remorse, in this place, as in many others, signifies pity. So, in the Fifth Act of this play: “My sisterly remorse confutes my honour, “And I did yield to him.” Again, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “The perfect image of a wretched creature, “His speeches beg remorse.” See Othello, Act III. Steevens.

Note return to page 121 8May call it back again:] The word back was inserted by the editor of the second folio, for the sake of the metre. Malone. Surely, it is added for the sake of sense as well as metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 122 9&lblank; Well believe this.] Be thoroughly assured of this. Theobald.

Note return to page 123 1&lblank; all the souls that were,] This is false divinity. We should read—are. Warburton. I fear, the player, in this instance, is a better divine than the prelate. The “souls that were,” evidently refer to Adam and Eve, whose transgression rendered them obnoxious to the penalty of annihilation, but for the remedy which the Author of their being most graciously provided. The learned Bishop, however, is more successful in his next explanation. Henley.

Note return to page 124 2And mercy then will breathe within your lips Like man new made.] This is a fine thought, and finely expressed. The meaning is, that “mercy will add such a grace to your person, that you will appear as amiable as a man come fresh out of the hands of his Creator.” Warburton. I rather think the meaning is, “You will then change the severity of your present character.” In familiar speech, “You would be quite another man.” Johnson. “And mercy then will breathe within your lips, “Like man new made.” You will then appear as tender-hearted and merciful as the first man was in his days of innocence, immediately after his creation. Malone. I incline to a different interpretation: “And you, Angelo, will breathe new life into Claudio, as the Creator animated Adam, by breathing into his nostrils the breath of life.” Holt White.

Note return to page 125 3&lblank; of season;] i. e. when it is in season. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; buck; and of the season too it shall appear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 126 4The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:] “Dormiunt aliquando leges, moriuntur nunquam,” is a maxim in our law. Holt White.

Note return to page 127 5If the first man, &c.] The word man has been supplied by the modern editors. I would rather read— “If he, the first,” &c. Tyrwhitt. Man was introduced by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 128 6&lblank; like a prophet, Looks in a glass,] This alludes to the fopperies of the beril, much used at that time by cheats and fortune-tellers to predict by. Warburton. See Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. I. So again, in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “How long have I beheld the devil in chrystal?” Steevens. The beril, which is a kind of crystal, hath a weak tincture of red in it. Among other tricks of astrologers, the discovery of past or future events was supposed to be the consequence of looking into it. See Aubrey's Miscellanies, p. 165, edit. 1721. Reed.

Note return to page 129 7(Either now,] Thus the old copy. Modern editors read— Or new &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 130 8But, where they live, to end.] The old copy reads—But, here they live, to end. Sir Thomas Hanmer substituted ere for here; but where was, I am persuaded, the author's word. So, in Coriolanus, Act V. Sc. V.: “&lblank; but there to end, “Where he was to begin, and give away “The benefit of our levies,” &c. Again, in Julius Cæsar: “And where I did begin, there shall I end.” The prophecy is not, that future evils should end, ere, or before they are born; or, in other words, that there should be no more evil in the world (as Sir T. Hanmer by his alteration seems to have understood it); but, that they should ‘end where they began,’ i. e. with the criminal; who, being punished for his first offence, could not proceed by successive degrees in wickedness, nor excite others, by his impunity, to vice. So, in the next speech: “And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, “Lives not to act another.” It is more likely that a letter should have been omitted at the press, than that one should have been added. The same mistake has happened in The Merchant of Venice, folio, 1623, p. 173, col. 2:—“ha, ha, here in Genoa,”—instead of —“where? in Genoa?” Malone. Dr. Johnson applauds Sir Thomas Hanmer's emendation. I prefer that of Mr. Malone. Steevens.

Note return to page 131 9&lblank; show some pity. Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know,] This was one of Hale's memorials. ‘When I find myself swayed to mercy, let me remember, that there is a mercy likewise due to the country.’ Johnson.

Note return to page 132 1To use it like a giant.] Isabella alludes to the savage conduct of giants in ancient romances. Steevens.

Note return to page 133 2&lblank; pelting,] i. e. paltry. This word I meet with in Mother Bombie, 1594: “&lblank; will not shrink the city for a pelting jade.” Steevens. It occurs very frequently in Shakspeare and his contemporaries in the same sense. Boswell.

Note return to page 134 3&lblank; gnarled oak,] Gnarre is the old English word for a knot in wood. So, in Antonio's Revenge, 1602: “Till by degrees the tough and gnarly trunk “Be riv'd in sunder.” Again, in Chaucer's Knight's Tale, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 1979: “With knotty knarry barrein trees old.” Steevens.

Note return to page 135 4Than the soft myrtle;—But man, proud man!] The defective metre of this line shews that some word was accidentally omitted at the press; probably some additional epithet to man; perhaps weak,—“but man, weak, proud man &lblank;.” The editor of the second folio, to supply the defect, reads—O, but man, &c. which, like almost all the other emendations of that copy, is the worst and the most improbable that could have been chosen. In the old copies, But is printed with a capital letter, which shows that no word was intended to precede it. Malone. I am content with the emendation of the second folio, which I conceive to have been made on the authority of some manuscript, or corrected copy. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 5As make the angels weep;] The notion of angels weeping for the sins of men is rabbinical. “Ob peccatum flentes angelos inducunt Hebræorum magistri.” Grotius ad S. Lucam. Theobald.

Note return to page 137 6&lblank; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.] Mr. Theobald says the meaning of this is, ‘that if they were endowed with our spleens and perishable organs, they would laugh themselves out of immortality;’ or, as we say in common life, laugh themselves dead; which amounts to this, that if they were mortal, they would not be immortal. Shakspeare meant no such nonsense. By spleens, he meant that peculiar turn of the human mind, that always inclines it to a spiteful, unseasonable mirth. Had the angels that, says Shakspeare, they would laugh themselves out of their immortality, by indulging a passion which does not deserve that prerogative. The ancients thought, that immoderate laughter was caused by the bigness of the spleen. Warburton.

Note return to page 138 7We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:] We mortals, proud and foolish, cannot prevail on our passions to weigh or compare our brother, a being of like nature and like frailty, with ourself. We have different names and different judgements for the same faults committed by persons of different condition. Johnson. The reading of the old copy, ourself, which Dr. Warburton changed to yourself, is supported by a passage in the fifth Act: “&lblank; If he had so offended, “He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself, “And not have cut him him off.” Malone.

Note return to page 139 8That skins the vice o' the top:] Shakspeare is fond of this indelicate metaphor. So, in Hamlet: “It will but skin and film the ulcerous place.” Steevens.

Note return to page 140 9&lblank; that my sense breeds with it.] Thus all the folios. Some later editor has changed breeds to bleeds, and Dr. Warburton blames poor Theobald for recalling the old word, which yet is certainly right. My sense breeds with her sense, that is, new thoughts are stirring in my mind, new conceptions are hatched in my imagination. So we say, to brood over thought. Johnson. Sir William D'Avenant's alteration favours the sense of the old reading—breeds, which Mr. Pope had changed to bleeds. “&lblank; She speaks such sense “As with my reason breeds such images “As she has excellently form'd &lblank;.” Steevens. I rather think the meaning is—She delivers her sentiments with such propriety, force, and elegance, that my sensual desires are inflamed by what she says. Sense has been already used in this play with the same signification: “&lblank; one who never feels “The wanton stings and motions of the sense.” So, also, in Angelo's speech at the conclusion of this scene: “&lblank; Can it be, “That modesty may more betray our sense “Than woman's lightness?” The word breeds is used in The Tempest, in nearly the same sense as here: “&lblank; Fair encounter “Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace “On that which breeds between them!” Malone. The sentence signifies, Isabella does not utter barren words, but speaks such sense as breeds or produces a consequence in Angelo's mind. Truths which generate no conclusion are often termed barren facts. Holt White. I understand the passage thus:—Her arguments are enforced with so much good sense, as to increase that stock of sense which I already possess. Douce.

Note return to page 141 1&lblank; fond shekels &lblank;] Fond means very frequently in our author, foolish. It signifies in this place valued or prized by folly. Steevens.

Note return to page 142 2&lblank; tested gold,] i. e. attested, or marked with the standard stamp. Warburton. Rather cupelled, brought to the test, refined. Johnson. All gold that is tested is not marked with the standard stamp. The verb has a different sense, and means tried by the cuppel, which is called by the refiners a test. Vide Harris's Lex. Tech. voce Cuppell. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 143 3&lblank; preserved souls,] i. e. preserved from the corruption of the world. The metaphor is taken from fruits preserved in sugar. Warburton. So, in The Amorous War, 1648: “You do not reckon us 'mongst marmalade, “Quinces and apricots? or take us for “Ladies preserved?” Steevens. Surely our author had “so such stuff in his thoughts.” Boswell.

Note return to page 144 4&lblank; I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross.] Which way Angelo is going to temptation, we begin to perceive; but how prayers cross that way, or cross each other, at that way more than any other, I do not understand. Isabella prays that his honour may be safe, meaning only to give him his title: his imagination is caught by the word honour: he feels that his honour is in danger, and therefore, I believe, answers thus: “I am that way going to temptation, “Which your prayers cross.” That is, I am tempted to lose that honour of which thou implorest the preservation. The temptation under which I labour is that which thou hast unknowingly thwarted with thy prayer. He uses the same mode of language a few lines lower. Isabella, parting, says: “Save your honour!” Angelo catches the word—Save it! From what? “From thee! even from thy virtue!—” Johnson. The best method of illustrating this passage will be to quote a similar one from The Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. I.: “Sal. I would it might prove the end of his losses! “Sola. Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross thy prayer.”” For the same reason Angelo seems to say Amen to Isabella's prayer; but, to make the expression clear, we should read perhaps —Where prayers are crossed. Tyrwhitt. The petition of the Lord's Prayer—“lead us not into temptation” —is here considered as crossing or intercepting the onward way in which Angelo was going; this appointment of his for the morrow's meeting, being a premeditated exposure of himself to temptation, which it was the general object of prayer to thwart. Henley.

Note return to page 145 5Ha!] This tragedy—Ha! (which clogs the metre) was certainly thrown in by the player editors. Steevens. This “tragedy—Ha!” as Mr. Steevens contemptuously calls it, occurs again in a speech of Angelo's in a subsequent scene: “Ha! Fye these filthy vices &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 146 6&lblank; it is I, That lying by the violet, in the sun, &c.] I am not corrupted by her, but my own heart, which excites foul desires under the same benign influences that exalt her purity, as the carrion grows putrid by those beams which increase the fragrance of the violet. Johnson.

Note return to page 147 7&lblank; Can it be, That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness?] So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “I do protest her modest wordes hath wrought in me a maze, “Though she be faire, she is not deackt with garish shewes for gaze. “Hir bewtie lures, her lookes cut off fond suits with chast disdain. “O God, I feele a sodaine change, that doth my freedome chayne. “What didst thou say? fie, Promos fie,” &c. Steevens. Sense has in this passage the same signification as in that above, “&lblank; that my sense breeds with it.” Malone.

Note return to page 148 8And pitch our evils there?] So, in King Henry VIII.: “Nor build their evils on the graves of great men.” Neither of these passages appears to contain a very elegant allusion. Evils, in the present instance, [as Dr. Grey has remarked] undoubtedly stands for foricæ. Dr. Farmer assures me he has seen the word evil used in this sense by our ancient writers; and it appears from Harrington's Metamorphosis of Ajax, &c. that privies were originally so ill-contrived, even in royal palaces, as to deserve the title of evils or nuisances. Steevens. One of Sir John Berkenhead's queries confirms the foregoing observation: “Whether, ever since the House of Commons has been locked up, the speaker's chair has not been a close-stool?” “Whether it is not seasonable to stop the nose of my evil?” Two Centuries of Paul's Church-Yard, 8vo. no date. Malone. No language could more forcibly express the aggravated profligacy of Angelo's passion, which the purity of Isabella but served the more to inflame.—The desecration of edifices devoted to religion, by converting them to the most abject purposes of nature, was an eastern method of expressing contempt. See 2 Kings, x. 27. Henley. A Brahman is forbid to drop his fæces even on “the ruins of a temple.” See Sir W. Jones's translation of Institutes of the Hindu Law, or the Ordinances of Menu, London edit. p. 95. Steevens.

Note return to page 149 9&lblank; I smil'd, and wonder'd how.] As a day must now intervene between this conference of Isabella with Angelo, and the next, the Act might more properly end here; and here, in my opinion, it was ended by the poet. Johnson.

Note return to page 150 2Who falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report!] The old copy reads—flaws. Steevens. Who doth not see that the integrity of the metaphor requires we should read: “&lblank; flames of her own youth?” Warburton. Who does not see that, upon such principles, there is no end of correction? Johnson. Dr. Johnson did not know, nor perhaps Dr. Warburton either, that Sir William D'Avenant reads flames instead of flaws, in his Law against Lovers, a play almost literally taken from Measure for Measure, and Much Ado About Nothing. Farmer. In support of Warburton's emendation, it should be remembered, that flawes (for so it was anciently spelled) and flames differ only by a letter that is very frequently mistaken at the press. The same mistake is found in Macbeth, Act II. Sc. I. edit. 1623: “&lblank; my steps, which may they walk, &lblank;” instead of—which way. Again, in this play of Measure for Measure, Act V. Sc. I. edit. 1623:—“give we your hand;” instead of me.—In a former scene of the play before us we meet with “burning youth.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “&lblank; Yet, in his idle fire, “To buy his will, it would not seem too dear.” To fall in (not into) was the language of the time. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; almost spent with hunger, “I am fallen in offence.” Malone. Shakspeare has flaming youth in Hamlet; and Greene, in his Never too Late, 1616, says—“he measured the flames of youth by his own dead cinders.” Blister'd her report, is disfigur'd her fame. Blister seems to have reference to the flames mentioned in the preceding line. A similar use of this word occurs in Hamlet: “&lblank; takes the rose “From the fair forehead of an innocent love, “And sets a blister there.” Steevens.

Note return to page 151 3&lblank; But lest you do repent,] Thus the old copy. The modern editors, led by Mr. Pope, read: “&lblank; But repent you not,” But lest you do repent is only a kind of negative imperative— Ne te pœniteat,—and means, repent not on this account. Steevens. I think that a line at least is wanting after the first of the Duke's speech. It would be presumptuous to attempt to replace the words; but the sense, I am persuaded, is easily recoverable out of Juliet's answer. I suppose his advice, in substance, to have been nearly this: “Take care, lest you repent (not so much of your fault, as it is an evil,) as that the sin hath brought you to this shame.” Accordingly, Juliet's answer is explicit to this point: “I do repent me, as it is an evil, “And take the shame with joy.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 152 4Showing, we'd not spare heaven,] The modern editors had changed this word into seek. Steevens. “Showing we'd not spare heaven,” i. e. spare to offend heaven. Malone.

Note return to page 153 5There rest.] Keep yourself in this temper. Johnson.

Note return to page 154 6Grace go with you! Benedicite!] The former part of this line evidently belongs to Juliet. Benedicite is the Duke's reply. Ritson. This regulation is undoubtedly proper: but I suppose Shakspeare to have written— “Juliet. May grace go with you! “Duke. Benedicite!” Steevens.

Note return to page 155 7&lblank; O, injurious love,] Her execution was respited on account of her pregnancy, the effects of her love; therefore she calls it injurious; not that it brought her to shame, but that it hindered her freeing herself from it. Is not this all very natural? yet the Oxford editor changes it to injurious law. Johnson. I know not what circumstance in this play can authorise a supposition that Juliet was respited on account of her pregnancy; as her life was in no danger from the law, the severity of which was exerted only on the seducer. I suppose she means that a parent's love for the child she bears is injurious, because it makes her careful of her life in her present shameful condition. Mr. Tollet explains the passage thus: “O, love, that is injurious in expediting Claudio's death, and that respites me a life, which is a burthen to me worse than death!” Steevens. Both Johnson's explanation of this passage, and Steevens's refutation of it, prove the necessity of Hanmer's amendment, which removes every difficulty, and can scarcely be considered as an alteration, the trace of the letters in the words law and love being so nearly alike.—The law affected the life of the man only, not that of the woman; and this is the injury that Juliet complains of, as she wished to die with him. M. Mason.

Note return to page 156 8Enter Angelo.] Promos, in the play already quoted, has likewise a soliloquy previous to the second appearance of Cassandra. It begins thus: “Do what I can, no reason cooles desire: “The more I strive my fond affectes to tame, “The hotter (oh) I feele a burning fire “Within my breast, vaine thoughts to forge and frame,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 157 9Whilst my invention,] Nothing can be either plainer or exacter than this expression. [Dr. Warburton means—intention, a word substituted by himself.] But the old blundering folio having it—invention, this was enough for Mr. Theobald to prefer authority to sense. Warburton. Intention (if it be the true reading) has, in this instance, more than its common meaning, and signifies eagerness of desire. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; course o'er my exteriors, with such greediness of intention.” By invention, however, I believe the poet means imagination. Steevens. So, in our author's 103d Sonnet: “&lblank; a face, “That overgoes my blunt invention quite.” Again, in K. Henry V.: “O for a muse of fire, that would ascend “The brightest heaven of invention!” Malone. Steevens says that intention, in this place, means eagerness of desire:—but I believe it means attention only, a sense in which the word is frequently used by Shakspeare and the other writers of his time.—Angelo says, he thinks and prays to several subjects; that Heaven has his prayers, but his thoughts are fixed on Isabel.— So, in Hamlet, the King says: “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: “Words, without thoughts, never to Heaven go.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 158 1Anchors on Isabel:] We have the same singular expression in Antony and Cleopatra: “There would he anchor his aspéct, and die “With looking on his life.” Malone. The same phrase occurs again in Cymbeline: “Posthumus anchors upon Imogen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 159 2Grown fear'd and tedious;] We should read seared, i. e. old. So, Shakspeare uses in the sear, to signify old age. Warburton. I think fear'd may stand. What we go to with reluctance may be said to be fear'd. Johnson.

Note return to page 160 3&lblank; with boot,] Boot is profit, advantage, gain. So, in M. Kyffin's translation of The Andria of Terence, 1588: “You obtained this at my hands, and I went about it while there was any boot.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “Then list to me: Saint Andrew be my boot, “But I'll raze thy castle to the very ground.” Steevens.

Note return to page 161 5&lblank; case,] For outside; garb; external shew. Johnson.

Note return to page 162 6Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming?] Here Shakspeare judiciously distinguishes the different operations of high place upon different minds. Fools are frighted, and wise men are allured. Those who cannot judge but by the eye, are easily awed by splendour; those who consider men as well as conditions, are easily persuaded to love the appearance of virtue dignified with power. Johnson.

Note return to page 163 7&lblank; Blood, thou still art blood:] The old copy reads— Blood, thou art blood. Mr. Pope, to supply the syllable wanting to complete the metre, reads—“Blood, thou art but blood!” But the word now introduced appears to me to agree better with the context, and therefore more likely to have been the author's.— Blood is used here, as in other places, for temperament of body. Malone.

Note return to page 164 8Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 'Tis not the devil's crest.] i. e. Let the most wicked thing have but a virtuous pretence, and it shall pass for innocent. This was his conclusion from his preceding words: “&lblank; O form! “How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, “Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls “To thy false seeming?” But the Oxford editor makes him conclude just counter to his own premises; by altering it to— “Is't not the devil's crest?” So that, according to this alteration, the reasoning stands thus: “False seeming, wrenches awe from fools, and deceives the wise.” Therefore, “Let us but write good angel on the devil's horn,” (i. e. give him the appearance of an angel,) and what then? “Is't not the devil's crest?” (i. e. he shall be esteemed a devil.) Warburton. I am still inclined to the opinion of the Oxford editor. Angelo, reflecting on the difference between his seeming character, and his real disposition, observes, that he “could change his gravity for a plume.” He then digresses into an apostrophe, “O dignity, how dost thou impose upon the world!” then returning to himself, “Blood (says he) thou art but blood,” however concealed with appearances and decorations. Title and character do not alter nature, which is still corrupt, however dignified: “Let's write good angel on the devil's horn; “Is't not?—or rather—'Tis yet the devil's crest.” It may however be understood, according to Dr. Warburton's explanation: “O place, how dost thou impose upon the world by false appearances!” so much, that if we “write good angel on the devil's horn, 'tis not taken any longer to be the devil's crest.” In this sense— “Blood, thou art but blood!” is an interjected exclamation. Johnson. A Hebrew proverb seems to favour Dr. Johnson's reading: “&lblank; 'Tis yet the devil's crest.” “A nettle standing among myrtles, doth notwithstanding retain the name of a nettle.” Steevens. This passage, as it stands, appears to me to be right, and Angelo's reasoning to be this: “O place! O form! though you wrench awe from fools, and tie even wiser souls to your false seeming, yet you make no alteration in the minds or constitutions of those who possess, or assume you. Though we should write good angel on the devil's horn, it will not change his nature, so as to give him a right to wear that crest.” It is well known that the crest was formerly chosen either as emblematical of some quality conspicuous in the person who bore it, or as alluding to some remarkable incident of his life; and on this circumstance depends the justness of the present allusion. My explanation of these words is confirmed by a passage in Lyly's Midas, quoted by Steevens, in his remarks on King John: “Melancholy! is melancholy a word for a barber's mouth? Thou shouldst say, heavy, dull, and doltish: melancholy is the crest of courtiers.” M. Mason. It should be remembered, that the devil is usually represented with “horns and cloven feet.” The old copy appears to me to require no alteration. Malone.

Note return to page 165 9&lblank; to my heart;] Of this speech there is no other trace in Promos and Cassandra, than the following: “Both hope and dreade at once my harte doth tuch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 166 1The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,] The later editions have—“subjects;” but the old copies read: “The general subject to a well-wish'd king. &lblank;” The general subject seems a harsh expression, but general subjects has no sense at all, and general was, in our author's time, a word for people; so that the general is the people, or multitude, subject to a king. So, in Hamlet: “The play pleased not the million: 'twas caviare to the general.” Johnson. Mr. Malone observes, that the use of this phrase, “the general,” for the people, continued so late as to the time of Lord Clarendon: “as rather to be consented to, than that the general should suffer.” Hist. b. v. p. 530, 8vo. I therefore adhere to the old reading, with only a slight change in the punctuation: “The general, subject to a well-wish'd king, “Quit, &c.” i. e. the generality who are subjects, &c. Twice in Hamlet our author uses subject for subjects: “So nightly toils the subject of the land.” Act I. Sc. I. Again, Act I. Sc. II.: “The lists and full proportions, all are made “Out of his subject.”— The general subject however may mean the subjects in general. So, in As You Like It, Act II. Sc. VII.: “Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.” Steevens. So the Duke had before (Act I. Sc. II.) expressed his dislike of popular applause: “I'll privily away. I love the people, “But do not like to stage me to their eyes. “Though it do well, I do not relish well “Their loud applause and aves vehement: “Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, “That does affect it.” I cannot help thinking that Shakspeare, in these two passages, intended to flatter the unkingly weakness of James the First, which made him so impatient of the crouds that flocked to see him, especially upon his first coming, that, as some of our historians say, he restrained them by a proclamation. Sir Simonds D'Ewes, in his Memoirs of his own Life* [Subnote: *A Manuscript in the British Museum.] , has a remarkable passage with regard to this humour of James. After taking notice, that the King going to parliament, on the 30th of January, 1620–1, “spake lovingly to the people, and said, God bless ye, God bless ye;” he adds these words, “contrary to his former hasty and passionate custom, which often, in his sudden distemper, would bid a pox or a plague on such as flocked to see him.” Tyrwhitt. Mr. Tyrwhitt's apposite remark might find support, if it needed any, from the following passage in A True Narration of the Entertainment of his Royall Majestie, from the Time of his Departure from Edinbrogh, till his Receiving in London, &c. &c. 1603: “&lblank; he was faine to publish an inhibition against the inordinate and dayly accesse of peoples comming,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 167 2&lblank; that hath from nature stolen A man already made,] i. e. that hath killed a man. Malone.

Note return to page 168 3Their sawcy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, In stamps that are forbid:] We meet with nearly the same words in King Edward III. a tragedy, 1596, certainly prior to this play: “&lblank; And will your sacred self “Commit high treason 'gainst the King of Heaven, “To stamp his image in forbidden metal?” These lines are spoken by the Countess of Salisbury, whose chastity (like Isabel's) was assailed by her sovereign. Their sawcy sweetness Dr. Warburton interprets, their sawcy indulgence of their appetite. Perhaps it means nearly the same as what is afterwards called sweet uncleanness. Malone. Sweetness, in the present instance, has, I believe, the same sense as—lickerishness. Steevens.

Note return to page 169 4Falsely to take away a life true made,] Falsely is the same with dishonestly, illegally: so false, in the next line but one, is illegal, illegitimate. Johnson.

Note return to page 170 5&lblank; mettle in restrained means,] In forbidden moulds. I suspect means not to be the right word, but I cannot find another. Johnson. I should suppose that our author wrote— “&lblank; in restrained mints,” as the allusion may be still to coining. Sir W. D'Avenant omits the passage. Steevens. Mettle, the reading of the old copy, which was changed to metal by Mr. Theobald, (who has been followed by the subsequent editors,) is supported not only by the general purport of the passage, (in which our author having already illustrated the sentiment he has attributed to Angelo by an allusion to coining, would not give the same image a second time,) but by a similar expression in Timon: “&lblank; thy father, that poor rag, “Must be thy subject; who in spite put stuff “To some she-beggar, and compounded thee, “Poor rogue hereditary.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to, “Before her troth-plight.” The controverted word is found again in the same sense in Macbeth: “&lblank; thy undaunted mettle should compose “Nothing but males.” Again, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; that bed, that womb, “That mettle, that self-mould that fashion'd thee, “Made him a man.” Again, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; Common mother, thou, “Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, “Teems and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, “Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, “Engenders the black toad,” &c. Means is here used for medium, or object; and the sense of the whole is this: ‘'Tis as easy wickedly to deprive a man born in wedlock of life, as to have unlawful commerce with a maid, in order to give life to an illegitimate child.’ The thought is simply, that murder is as easy as fornication; and the inference which Angelo would draw, is, that it is as improper to pardon the latter as the former. The words—to make a false one— evidently referring to life, show that the preceding line is to be understood in a natural, and not in a metaphorical, sense. Malone.

Note return to page 171 6'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.] I would have it considered, whether the train of the discourse does not rather rether require Isabel to say: “'Tis so set down in earth, but not in heaven.” When she has said this, “Then,” says Angelo, “I shall poze you quickly.” Would you, who, for the present purpose, declare your brother's crime to be less in the sight of heaven, than the law has made it; would you commit that crime, light as it is, to save your brother's life? To this she answers, not very plainly in either reading, but more appositely to that which I propose: “I had rather give my body than my soul.” Johnson. What you have stated is undoubtedly the divine law: murder and fornication are both forbid by the canon of scripture;—but on earth the latter offence is considered as less heinous than the former. Malone. So, in King John: “Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, “And so doth yours.” Steevens.

Note return to page 172 7&lblank; or, to redeem him,] The old copy has—and to redeem him. The emendation was made by Sir William D'Avenant. Malone.

Note return to page 173 8I had rather give my body than my soul.] Isabel, I believe, uses the words, “give my body,” in a different sense from that in which they had been employed by Angelo. She means, I think, “I had rather die, than forfeit my eternal happiness by the prostitution of my person.” Malone. She may mean—I had rather “give up my body to imprisonment, than my soul to perdition.” Steevens.

Note return to page 174 9&lblank; Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than accompt.] Actions to which we are compelled, however numerous, are not imputed to us by heaven as crimes. If you cannot save your brother but by the loss of your chastity, it is not a voluntary but compelled sin, for which you cannot be accountable. Malone. The old copy reads— “Stand more for number than for accompt.” I have omitted the second for, which had been casually repeated by the compositor. Steevens.

Note return to page 175 1Pleas'd you to do't, at peril, &c.] The reasoning is thus: Angelo asks, whether there might “not be a charity in sin to save this brother.” Isabella answers, that “if Angelo will save him, she will stake her soul that it were charity, not sin.” Angelo replies, that if Isabella would “save him at the hazard of her soul, it would be not indeed no sin, but a sin to which the charity would be equivalent.” Johnson.

Note return to page 176 2And nothing of your, answer.] I think it should be read— “And nothing of yours, answer.” You, and whatever is yours, be exempt from penalty. Johnson. “And nothing of your answer,” [as it stands in the old copy] means, ‘and make no part of those sins for which you shall be called to answer.’ Steevens. This passage would be clear, I think, if it were pointed thus: “To have it added to the faults of mine, “And nothing of your, answer.” So that the substantive answer may be understood to be joined in construction with mine as well as your. The faults of mine answer are the faults which I am to answer for. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 177 3&lblank; craftily;] The old copy reads—crafty. Corrected by Sir William D'Avenant. Malone.

Note return to page 178 4Let me be ignorant,] Me is wanting in the original copy. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 179 5Proclaim an enshield beauty &lblank;] An enshield beauty is a ‘shielded beauty, a beauty covered or protected as with a shield.’ Steevens. “&lblank; as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty,” &c. This should be written enshell'd, or in-shell'd, as it is in Coriolanus, Act IV. Sc. VI.: “Thrusts forth his horns again into the world “That were in-shell'd when Marcius stood for Rome.” These masks must mean, I think, the masks of the audience; however improperly a compliment to them is put into the mouth of Angelo. As Shakspeare would hardly have been guilty of such an indecorum to flatter a common audience, I think this passage affords ground for supposing that the play was written to be acted at court. Some strokes of particular flattery to the King I have already pointed out; and there are several other general reflections, in the character of the Duke especially, which seem calculated for the royal ear. Tyrwhitt. I do not think so well of the conjecture in the latter part of this note, as I did some years ago; and therefore I should wish to withdraw it. Not that I am inclined to adopt the idea of Mr. Ritson, as I see no ground for supposing that Isabella “had any mask in her hand.” My notion at present is, that the phrase these black masks signifies nothing more than black masks; according to an old idiom of our language, by which the demonstrative pronoun is put for the prepositive article. See the Glossary to Chaucer, edit. 1775: This, Thise. Shakspeare seems to have used the same idiom not only in the passage quoted by Mr. Steevens from Romeo and Juliet, but also in King Henry IV. Part I. Act I. Sc. III.: “&lblank; and, but for these vile guns, “He would himself have been a soldier.” With respect to the former part of this note, though Mr. Ritson has told us that “enshield is certainly put by contraction for enshielded,” I have no objection to leaving my conjecture in its place, till some authority is produced for such an usage of enshield or enshielded. Tyrwhitt. There are instances of a similar contraction or elision, in our author's plays. Thus, bloat for bloated, ballast for ballasted, and waft for wafted, with many others. Ritson. Mr. Ritson is mistaken in his illustration by similar phraseology. Ballast is not ballasted, but balased. See vol. iv. p. 212; and bloat is found as a regular adjective in Cole's Dictionary. Malone. Sir William D'Avenant reads—as a black mask; but I am afraid Mr. Tyrwhitt is too well supported in his first supposition, by a passage at the beginning of Romeo and Juliet: “These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, “Being black put us in mind they hide the fair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 180 6Accountant to the law upon that pain.] Pain is here for penalty, punishment. Johnson.

Note return to page 181 7As I subscribe not that,] To subscribe means, to agree to. Milton uses the word in the same sense. So also, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, 1661: “Subscribe to his desires.” Steevens.

Note return to page 182 8But in the loss of question,] The loss of question I do not well understand, and should rather read: “But in the toss of question.” In the agitation, in the discussion of the question. To toss an argument is a common phrase. Johnson. This expression, I believe, means, but in idle supposition, or conversation that tends to nothing, which may therefore, in our author's language, be called the loss of question. Thus, in Coriolanus, Act III. Sc. I.: “The which shall turn you to no other harm, “Than so much loss of time.” Question, in Shakspeare, often bears this meaning. So, in his Tarquin and Lucrece: “And after supper, long he questioned “With modest Lucrece,” &c. Steevens. Question is used here, as in many other places, for conversation. Malone.

Note return to page 183 9Of the all-binding law;] The old editions read: “&lblank; all-building law.” Johnson. The emendation is Theobald's. Steevens.

Note return to page 184 1&lblank; or else let him suffer;] The old copy reads—“or else to let him,” &c. Steevens. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads more grammatically—“or else let him suffer.” But our author is frequently inaccurate in the construction of his sentences. I have therefore adhered to the old copy. “You must be under the necessity” [to let, &c.] must be understood. So, in Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 150: “&lblank; asleep they were so fast, that a man might have removed the chamber over them, sooner than to have awaked them out of their drunken sleep.” Malone. The old copy reads—supposed, not suppos'd. The second to in the line might therefore be the compositor's accidental repetition of the first. Being unnecessary to sense, and injurious to measure, I have omitted it.—The pages of the first edition of Holinshed will furnish examples of every blunder to which printed works are liable. Steevens.

Note return to page 185 2&lblank; a brother died at once,] Perhaps we should read: “Better it were, a brother died for once,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 186 3Ignomy in ransom,] So the word ignominy was formerly written. Thus, in Troilus and Cressida, Act V. Sc. III.: “Hence, brother lacquey! ignomy and shame,” &c. Reed. Sir William D'Avenant's alteration of these lines may prove a reasonably good comment on them: “Ignoble ransom no proportion bears “To pardon freely given.” Malone. The second folio reads—ignominy; but whichsoever reading we take, the line will be inharmonious, if not defective. Steevens.

Note return to page 187 4Nothing akin &lblank;] The old copy reads—kin. For this trivial emendation I am answerable. Steevens.

Note return to page 188 5If not a feodary, but only he, &c.] This is so obscure, but the allusion so fine, that it deserves to be explained. A feodary was one that in the times of vassalage held lands of the chief lord, under the tenure of paying rent and service: which tenures were called feuda amongst the Goths. “Now,” says Angelo, “we are all frail;”—“Yes,” replies Isabella; “if all mankind were not feodaries, who owe what they are to this tenure of imbecility, and who succeed each other by the same tenure, as well as my brother, I would give him up.” The comparing mankind, lying under the weight of original sin, to a feodary, who owes suit and service to his lord, is, I think, not ill imagined. Warburton. I have shewn in a note on Cymbeline, that feodary was used by Shakspeare in the sense of an associate, and such undoubtedly is its signification here. Dr. Warburton's note therefore was certainly mistaken. After having ascertained the true meaning of this word, I must own, that the remaining part of the passage before us is extremely difficult, I would, however, restore the original reading thy weakness, and the meaning should seem to be this:—We are all frail, says Angelo. Yes, replies Isabella; if he has not one associate in his crime, if no other person own and follow the same criminal courses which you are now pursuing, let my brother suffer death. I think it however extremely probable that something is omitted. It is observable, that the line—“Owe, and succeed thy weakness,” does not, together with the subsequent line,—“Nay, women are frail too,”—make a perfect verse: from which it may be conjectured that the compositor's eye glanced from the word succeed to weakness in a subsequent hemistich, and that by this oversight the passage is become unintelligible. Malone. Shakspeare has the same allusion in Cymbeline: “&lblank; senseless bauble, “Art thou a feodarie for this act?” Again, in the Prologue to Marston's Sophonisba, 1660: “For seventeen kings were Carthage foedars.” Mr. M. Mason censures me for not perceiving that feodary signifies an accomplice. Of this I was fully aware, as it supports the sense contended for by Warburton, and seemingly acquiesced in by Dr. Johnson.—Every vassal was an accomplice with his lord; i. e. was subject to be executor of the mischief he did not contrive, and was obliged to follow in every bad cause which his superior led. Steevens.

Note return to page 189 6Owe,] To owe is, in this place, to own, to hold, to have possession. Johnson.

Note return to page 190 7&lblank; by weakness.] The old copy reads—thy weakness. Steevens. The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. I am by no means satisfied with it. Thy is much more likely to have been printed by mistake for this, than the word which has been substituted. Yet ‘this weakness’ and ‘by weakness’ are equally to be understood. Sir W. D'Avenant omitted the passage in his Law against Lovers, probably on account of its difficulty. Malone.

Note return to page 191 8&lblank; glasses &lblank; Which are as easy broke as they make forms.] Would it not be better to read: “&lblank; take forms.” Johnson.

Note return to page 192 9In profiting by them.] In imitating them, in taking them for examples. Johnson. If men mar their own creation, by taking women for their example, they cannot be said to profit much by them. Isabella is deploring the condition of woman-kind, formed so frail and credulous, that men prove the destruction of the whole sex, by taking advantage of their weakness, and using them for their own purposes. She therefore calls upon Heaven to assist them. This, though obscurely expressed, appears to me to be the meaning of this passage. M. Mason. Dr. Johnson does not seem to have understood this passage, Isabella certainly does not mean to say that men mar their own creation by taking women for examples. Her meaning is, that “men debase their nature by taking advantage of such weak pitiful creatures.”— Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 193 1For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints.] i. e. take any impression. Warburton. So, in Twelfth Night: “How easy is it for the proper false “In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! “Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; “For, such as we are made of, such we be.” Malone.

Note return to page 194 2&lblank; speak the former language.] Isabella answers to his circumlocutory courtship, that she has but one tongue, she does not understand this new phrase, and desires him to talk his former language, that is, to talk as he talked before. Johnson.

Note return to page 195 3I know, your virtue hath a licence in't,] Alluding to the licences given by ministers to their spies, to go into all suspected companies, and join in the language of malcontents. Warburton. I suspect Warburton's interpretation to be more ingenious than just. The obvious meaning is, ‘I know your virtue assumes an air of licentiousness which is not natural to you, on purpose to try me.’— Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 196 4Which seems a little fouler, &c.] So, in Promos and Cassandra: “Cas. Renowned lord, you use this speech (I hope) your thrall to trye, “If otherwise, my brother's life so deare I will not bye.” “Pro. Fair dame, my outward looks my inward thoughts bewray; “If you mistrust, to search my harte, would God you had a kaye.” Steevens.

Note return to page 197 5&lblank; Seeming, seeming!] Hypocrisy, hypocrisy; counterfeit virtue. Johnson.

Note return to page 198 6My vouch against you,] The calling his denial of her charge his vouch, has something fine. Vouch is the testimony one man bears for another. So that, by this, he insinuates his authority was so great, that his denial would have the same credit that a vouch or testimony has in ordinary cases. Warburton, I believe this beauty is merely imaginary, and that vouch against means no more than denial. Johnson. Vouch means assertion. Roberts. So, in a subsequent scene: “&lblank; a man that never yet “Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.” Malone.

Note return to page 199 7That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny.] A metaphor from a lamp or candle extinguished in its own grease. Steevens.

Note return to page 200 8And now I give my sensual race the rein:] And now I give my senses the rein, in the race they are now actually running. Heath.

Note return to page 201 9&lblank; and prolixious blushes,] The word prolixious is not peculiar to Shakspeare. I find it in Moses his Birth and Miracles, by Drayton: “Most part by water, more prolixious was,” &c. Again, in the Dedication to Gabriel Harvey's Hunt Is Up, 1598: “&lblank; rarifier of prolixious rough barbarism,” &c. Again, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; well known unto them by his prolixious sea-wandering.” Prolixious blushes mean what Milton has elegantly called— “&lblank; sweet reluctant delay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 202 1&lblank; die the death,] This seems to be a solemn phrase for death inflicted by law. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Prepare to die the death.” Johnson. It is a phrase taken from Scripture, as is observed in a note on A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Steevens. The phrase is a good phrase, as Shallow says, but I do not conceive it to be either of legal or scriptural origin. Chaucer uses it frequently. See Canterbury Tales, ver. 607: “They were adradde of him, as of the deth.” ver. 1222. “The deth he feleth thurgh his herte smite.” It seems to have been originally a mistaken translation of the French La Mort. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 203 2&lblank; prompture &lblank;] Suggestion, temptation, instigation. Johnson.

Note return to page 204 3&lblank; such a mind of honour,] This, in Shakspeare's language, may mean, such an honourable mind, as he uses “mind of love,” in The Merchant of Venice, for loving mind. Thus also, in Philaster: “&lblank; I had thought, thy mind “Had been of honour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 205 4Be absolute for death;] Be determined to die, without any hope of life. Horace,— “The hour which exceeds expectation will be welcome.” Johnson.

Note return to page 206 5That none but fools would keep:] But this reading is not only contrary to all sense and reason, but to the drift of this moral discourse. The Duke, in his assumed character of a friar, is endeavouring to instil into the condemned prisoner a resignation of mind to his sentence; but the sense of the lines in this reading, is a direct persuasive to suicide: I make no doubt but the poet wrote— “That none but fools would reck: &lblank;” i. e. care for, be anxious about, regret the loss of. So, in the tragedy of Tancred and Gismund, Act IV. Sc. III.: “&lblank; Not that she recks this life. &lblank;” And Shakspeare, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Recking as little what betideth me. &lblank;” Warburton. The meaning seems plainly this, that none but fools would wish to keep life; or, none but fools would keep it, if choice were allowed. A sense, which, whether true or not, is certainly innocent. Johnson. Keep, in this place, I believe, may not signify preserve, but care for. “No lenger for to liven I ne kepe,” says Æneas, in Chaucer's Dido, Queen of Carthage; and elsewhere: “That I kepe not rehearsed be;” i. e. which I care not to have rehearsed. Again, in The Knightes Tale, Tyrwhitt's edit. ver. 2240: “I kepe nought of armes for to yelpe.” Again, in A Mery Jeste of a Man called Howleglass, bl. l. no date: “Then the parson bad him remember that he had a soule for to kepe, and he preached and teached to him the use of confession,” &c. Again, in Ben Jonson's Volpone: “Faith I could stifle him rarely with a pillow, “As well as any woman that should keep him.” i. e. have the care of him. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's explanation is confirmed by a passage in The Dutchess of Malfy, by Webster, (1623,) an author who has frequently imitated Shakspeare, and who perhaps followed him in the present instance: “Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? “Sin their conception, their birth weeping; “Their life a general mist of error; “Their death a hideous storm of terror.” See also, the Glossary to Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit. of The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, v. kepe. Malone.

Note return to page 207 6That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,] Sir T. Hanmer changed dost to do, without necessity or authority. The construction is not, “the skiey influences that do,” but, “a breath thou art, that dost,” &c. If “Servile to all the skiey influences,” be inclosed in a parenthesis, all the difficulty will vanish. Porson.

Note return to page 208 7&lblank; merely, thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet run'st toward him still:] In those old farces called Moralities, the fool of the piece, in order to show the inevitable approaches of death, is made to employ all his stratagems to avoid him; which, as the matter is ordered, bring the fool, at every turn, into his very jaws. So that the representations of these scenes would afford a great deal of good mirth and morals mixed together. And from such circumstances, in the genius of our ancestors' publick diversions, I suppose it was, that the old proverb arose of being merry and wise. Warburton. Such another expression as death's fool, occurs in The Honest Lawyer, a comedy, by S. S. 1616: “Wilt thou be a fool of fate? who can “Prevent the destiny decreed for man?” Steevens. It is observed by the editor of The Sad Shepherd, 8vo. 1783, p. 154, that the initial letter of Stow's Survey contains a representation of a struggle between Death and the Fool: the figures of which were most probably copied from those characters as formerly exhibited on the stage. Reed. There are no such characters as Death and the Fool, in any old Morality now extant. They seem to have existed only in the dumb Shows. The two figures in the initial letter of Stow's Survey, 1603, which have been mistaken for these two personages, have no allusion whatever to the stage, being merely one of the set known by the name of Death's Dance, and actually copied from the margin of an old Missal. The scene in the modern pantomine of Harlequin Skeleton, seems to have been suggested by some playhouse tradition of Death and the Fool. Ritson. See Pericles, Act III. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 209 8Are nurs'd by baseness:] Dr. Warburton is undoubtedly mistaken in supposing that by baseness is meant self-love, here assigned as the motive of all human actions. Shakspeare only meant to observe, that a minute analysis of life at once destroys that splendour which dazzles the imagination. Whatever grandeur can display, or luxury enjoy, is procured by baseness, by offices of which the mind shrinks from the contemplation. All the delicacies of the table may be traced back to the shambles and the dunghill, all magnificence of building was hewn from the quarry, and all the pomp of ornament dug from among the damps and darkness of the mine. Johnson. This is a thought which Shakspeare delights to express. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; our dungy earth alike “Feeds man as beast.” Again: “Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, “The beggar's nurse, and Cæsars.” Steevens.

Note return to page 210 9&lblank; the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm:] Worm is put for any creeping thing or serpent. Shakspeare supposes falsely, but according to the vulgar notion, that a serpent wounds with his tongue, and that his tongue is forked. He confounds reality and fiction; a serpent's tongue is soft, but not forked nor hurtful. If it could hurt, it could not be soft. In A Midsummer-Night's Dream he has the same notion: “With doubler tongue “Than thine, O serpent, never adder stung.” Johnson. Shakspeare mentions the “adder's fork” in Macbeth; and might have caught this idea from old tapestries or paintings, in which the tongues of serpents and dragons always appear barbed like the point of an arrow. Steevens.

Note return to page 211 1&lblank; Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.] Evidently from the following passage of Cicero: “Habes somnum imaginem mortis, eamque quotidie induis, et dubitas quin sensus in morte nullus sit, cum in ejus simulacro videas esse nullum sensum.” But the Epicurean insinuation is, with great judgment, omitted in the imitation. Warburton. Here Dr. Warburton might have found a sentiment worthy of his animadversion. I cannot without indignation find Shakspeare saying, that death is only sleep, lengthening out his exhortation by a sentence which in the Friar is impious, in the reasoner is foolish, and in the poet trite and vulgar. Johnson. This was an oversight in Shakspeare; for in the second scene of the fourth Act, the Provost speaks of the desperate Barnardine, as one who regards death only as a drunken sleep. Steevens. I apprehend Shakspeare means to say no more, than that the passage from this life to another is as easy as sleep; a position in which there is surely neither folly nor impiety. Malone.

Note return to page 212 2&lblank; Thou art not thyself;] Thou art perpetually repaired and renovated by external assistance, thou subsistest upon foreign matter, and hast no power of producing or continuing thy own being. Johnson.

Note return to page 213 3&lblank; strange effects,] For effects read affects; that is, affections, passions of mind, or disorders of body variously affected. So, in Othello: “The young affects.” Johnson. When I consider the influence of the moon on the human mind, I am inclined to read with Johnson—affects instead of— effects.—We cannot properly say that the mind “shifts to strange effects.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 214 4&lblank; like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,] This simile is far more ancient than Shakspeare's play. It occurs in T. Churchyard's Discourse of Rebellion, &c. 1570: “Rebellion thus, with paynted vizage brave, “Leads out poore soules (that knowes not gold from glas) “Who beares the packe and burthen like the asse.” Steevens. We meet with a similar comparison in Whitney's Emblems In Avaros: “This caitiffe wretche with pined corpes lo heare, “Compared right unto the foolishe asse, “Whose backe is fraighte with cates and daintie cheare, “But to his share commes neither corne nor grasse;   “Yet beares he that which settes his teeth on edge,   “And pines himself with thistle and with sedge.” Whitney's description of an ass bearing cates, it may be observed, corresponds with English customs; but an ass bearing ingots is an Eastern image, and was probably derived from the Scriptures. See Isaiah, XXX. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 215 5&lblank; serpigo,] The serpigo is a kind of fetter. Steevens.

Note return to page 216 6&lblank; Thou hast nor youth, nor age; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both:] This is exquisitely imagined. When we are young, we busy ourselves in forming schemes for succeeding time, and miss the gratifications that are before us; when we are old, we amuse the languor of age with the recollection of youthful pleasures or performances; so that our life, of which no part is filled with the business of the present time, resembles our dreams after dinner, when the events of the morning are mingled with the designs of the evening. Johnson.

Note return to page 217 7&lblank; palsied eld;] Eld is generally used for old age, decrepitude. It is here put for old people, persons worn with years. So, in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, 1604: “Let colder eld their strong objections move.” Again, in our author's Merry Wives of Windsor: “The superstitious idle-headed eld.” Gower uses it for age as opposed to youth: “His elde had turned into youth.” De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 106. Steevens.

Note return to page 218 8&lblank; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich, Thou hast neither heat, &c.] The drift of this period is to prove, that neither youth nor age can be said to be really enjoyed, which, in poetical language, is—“We have neither youth nor age.” But how is this made out? That age is not enjoyed, he proves by recapitulating the infirmities of it, which deprive that period of life of all sense of pleasure. To prove that youth is not enjoyed, he uses these words: “&lblank; for all thy blessed youth “Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms “Of palsied eld; &lblank;” Out of which, he that can deduce the conclusion, has a better knack at logick than I have. I suppose the poet wrote— “&lblank; For pall'd, thy blazed youth “Becomes assuaged; and doth beg the alms “Of palsied eld; &lblank;” i. e. when thy youthful appetite becomes palled, as it will be in the very enjoyment, the blaze of youth is at once assuaged, and thou immediately contractest the infirmities of old age; as particularly the palsy and other nervous disorders, consequent on the inordinate use of sensual pleasures. This is to the purpose, and proves youth is not enjoyed, by shewing the short duration of it. Warburton. Here again I think Dr. Warburton totally mistaken. Shakspeare declares that man has neither youth nor age; for in youth, which is the happiest time, or which might be the happiest, he commonly wants means to obtain what he could enjoy; he is dependent on palsied eld; must beg alms from the coffers of hoary avarice; and being very niggardly supplied, becomes as aged, looks, like an old man, on happiness which is beyond his reach. And, when he is old and rich, when he has wealth enough for the purchase of all that formerly excited his desires, he has no longer the powers of enjoyment: “&lblank; has neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, “To make his riches pleasant. &lblank;” I have explained this passage according to the present reading, which may stand without much inconvenience; yet I am willing to persuade my reader, because I have almost persuaded myself, that our author wrote— “&lblank; for all thy blasted youth “Becomes as aged &lblank;.” Johnson. The sentiment contained in these lines, which Dr. Johnson has explained with his usual precision, occurs again in the forged letter that Edmund delivers to his father, as written by Edgar; King Lear, Act I. Sc. II.: “This policy, and reverence of age, makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them.” The words above, printed in Italics, support, I think, the reading of the old copy—“blessed youth,” and show that any emendation is unnecessary. Malone.

Note return to page 219 9&lblank; heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,] But how does beauty make riches pleasant? We should read bounty, which completes the sense, and is this—‘thou hast neither the pleasure of enjoying riches thyself, for thou wantest vigour; nor of seeing it enjoyed by others, for thou wantest bounty.’ Where the making the want of bounty as inseparable from old age as the want of health, is extremely satirical, though not altogether just. Warburton. I am inclined to believe, that neither man nor woman will have much difficulty to tell how beauty makes riches pleasant. Surely this emendation, though it is elegant and ingenious, is not such as that an opportunity of inserting it should be purchased by declaring ignorance of what every one knows, by confessing insensibility of what every one feels. Johnson. By heat and affection the poet meant to express appetite, and by limb and beauty—strength. Edwards.

Note return to page 220 1&lblank; more thousand deaths:] For this Sir T. Hanmer reads: “&lblank; a thousand deaths: &lblank;” The meaning is, not only a thousand deaths, but a thousand deaths besides what have been mentioned. Johnson.

Note return to page 221 2To sue to live, I find, I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life:] Had the Friar, in reconciling Claudio to death, urged to him the certainty of happiness hereafter, this speech would have been introduced with more propriety; but the Friar says nothing of that subject, and argues more like a philosopher, than a Christian divine. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason seems to forget that no actual Friar was the speaker, but the Duke, who might be reasonably supposed to have more of the philosopher than the divine in his composition. Steevens. Surely the Duke may be supposed to have as much of the divine in his composition as Claudio; but I cannot think Mr. Mason's censure well founded: Claudio's answer is the inference which the Duke intended should be drawn from his arguments. Boswell.

Note return to page 222 3Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.] Dear sir, is too courtly a phrase for the Friar, who always addresses Claudio and Isabella by the appellations of son and daughter. I should therefore read—dear son. M. Mason.

Note return to page 223 4Bring them to speak, where I may be conceal'd, Yet hear them.] The first copy, published by the players, gives the passage thus: “Bring them to hear me speak, where I may be conceal'd.” Perhaps we should read: “Bring me to hear them speak, where I,” &c. Steevens. The second folio authorizes the reading in the text. Tyrwhitt. The alterations made in that copy do not deserve the smallest credit. There are undoubted proofs that they were merely arbitrary; and, in general, they are also extremely injudicious. Malone. I am of a different opinion, in which I am joined by Dr. Farmer; and, consequently prefer the reading of the second folio to my own attempt at emendation, though Mr. Malone has done me the honour to adopt it. Steevens.

Note return to page 224 5As all comforts are; most good in deed:] If this reading be right, Isabella must mean that she brings something better than words of comfort—she brings an assurance of deeds. This is harsh and constrained, but I know not what better to offer. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “&lblank; in speed.” Johnson. The old copy reads: “&lblank; Why, “As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede.” I believe the present reading, as explained by Dr. Johnson, is the true one. So, in Macbeth: “We're yet but young in deed.” Steevens. I would point the lines thus: “Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort? “Isab. Why, as all comforts are, most good. Indeed Lord Angelo,” &c. Indeed is the same as in truth, or truly, the common beginning of speeches in Shakspeare's age. See Charles the First's Trial. The King and Bradshaw seldom say any thing without this preface: “Truly, Sir &lblank;.” Blackstone.

Note return to page 225 6&lblank; an everlasting leiger: Therefore your best appointment &lblank;] Leiger is the same with resident. Appointment; preparation; act of fitting, or state of being fitted for any thing. So in old books, we have a knight well appointed; that is, well armed and mounted, or fitted at all points. Johnson. The word leiger is thus used in the comedy of Look About You, 1600: “Why do you stay, Sir? &lblank; “Madam, as leiger to solicit for your absent love.” Again, in Leicester's Commonwealth: “a special man of that hasty king, who was his ledger, or agent, in London,” &c. Steevens. “&lblank; your best appointment &lblank;” The word appointment, on this occasion, should seem to comprehend confession, communion, and absolution. “Let him (says Escalus) be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation.” The King in Hamlet, who was cut off prematurely, and without such preparation, is said to be dis-appointed. Appointment, however, may be more simply explained by the following passage in The Antipodes, 1638: “&lblank; your lodging “Is decently appointed.” i. e. prepared, furnished. Steevens. The latter and more simple explanation agrees better with the context, “To-morrow you set on.” Boswell.

Note return to page 226 7Though all the world's vastidity &lblank;] The old copy reads— Through all, &c. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 227 8&lblank; a restraint &lblank; To a determin'd scope.] A confinement of your mind to one painful idea; to ignominy, of which the remembrance can neither be suppressed nor escaped. Johnson.

Note return to page 228 9Would bark your honour &lblank;] A metaphor from stripping trees of their bark. Douce.

Note return to page 229 1&lblank; the poor beetle, &c.] The reasoning is, ‘that death is no more than every being must suffer, though the dread of it is peculiar to man;’ or perhaps, that we are inconsistent with ourselves, when we so much dread that which we carelessly inflict on other creatures, that feel the pain as acutely as we. Johnson. The meaning is—fear is the principal sensation in death, which has no pain; and the giant, when he dies, feels no greater pain than the beetle.—This passage, however, from its arrangement, is liable to an opposite construction, but which would totally destroy the illustration of the sentiment. Douce.

Note return to page 230 2I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms.] So, in the First Part of Jeronimo, or the Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “&lblank; night “That yawning Beldam, with her jetty skin, “'Tis she I hug as mine effeminate bride.” Steevens. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; I will be “A bridegroom in my death; and run into't, “As to a lover's bed.” Malone.

Note return to page 231 3&lblank; follies doth enmew,] Forces follies to lie in cover, without daring to show themselves. Johnson.

Note return to page 232 4As falcon doth the fowl,] In whose presence the follies of youth are afraid to show themselves, as the fowl is afraid to flutter while the falcon hovers over it. So, in The Third Part of King Henry VI.: “&lblank; not he that loves him best, “The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, “Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shakes his bells.” To enmew is a term in falconry, also used by Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Knight of Malta: “&lblank; I have seen him scale, “As if a falcon had run up a train, “Clashing his warlike pinions, his steel'd cuirass, “And, at his pitch, enmew the town below him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 233 5His filth within being cast,] To cast a pond is to empty it of mud. Mr. Upton reads: “His pond within being cast, he would appear “A filth as deep as hell.” Johnson.

Note return to page 234 6The princely Angelo? &lblank; &lblank; princely guards!] The stupid editors, mistaking guards for satellites, (whereas it here signifies lace,) altered priestly, in both places, to princely. Whereas Shakspeare wrote it priestly, as appears from the words themselves: “&lblank; 'Tis the cunning livery of hell, “The damned'st body to invest and cover “With priestly guards. &lblank;” In the first place we see that guards here signifies lace, as referring to livery, and as having no sense in the signification of satellites. Now priestly guards means sanctity, which is the sense required. But princely guards means nothing but rich lace, which is a sense the passage will not bear. Angelo, indeed, as deputy, might be called the princely Angelo: but not in this place, where the immediately preceding words of— “This out-ward-sainted deputy,” demand the reading I have restored. Warburton. The first folio has, in both places, prenzie, from which the other folios made princely, and every editor may make what he can. Johnson. Princely is the judicious correction of the second folio. Princely guards mean no more than the badges of royalty, (laced or bordered robes,) which Angelo is supposed to assume during the absence of the Duke. The stupidity of the first editors is sometimes not more injurious to Shakspeare, than the ingenuity of those who succeeded them. In the old play of Cambyses I meet with the same expression. Sisamnes is left by Cambyses to distribute justice while he is absent; and in a soliloquy says: “Now may I wear the brodered garde,   “And lye in downe-bed soft.” Again, the queen of Cambyses says: “I do forsake these broder'd gardes,   “And all the facions new.” Steevens. A guard, in old language, meant a welt or border of a garment; “because (says Minsheu) it gards and keeps the garment from tearing.” These borders were sometimes of lace. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; Give him a livery “More guarded than his fellows.” Malone. Warburton reads—priestly, and, in my opinion, very properly. The meaning of the speech is, that it is the cunning policy of the devil, to invest the damnedest bodies in the most sanctified robes; that is to say, in priestly guards, which, when applied to deceitful purposes, she calls the livery of hell. By guards, Isabella metaphorically means—outward appearances. M. Mason.

Note return to page 235 7&lblank; from this rank offence,] I believe means, from the time of my committing this offence, you might persist in sinning with safety. The advantages you would derive from my having such a secret of his in my keeping, would ensure you from further harm on account of the same fault, however frequently repeated. Steevens.

Note return to page 236 8&lblank; as a pin,] So, in Hamlet: “I do not set my life at a pin's fee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 237 9Has he affections, &c.] ‘Is he actuated by passions that impel him to transgress the law, at the very moment that he is enforcing it against others?’ [I find, he is.] Surely then, since this is so general a propensity, since the judge is as criminal as he whom he condemns, it is no sin, or at least a venial one. So, in the next Act: “&lblank; A deflower'd maid, “And by an eminent body that enforc'd “The law against it.” Force is again used for enforce in King Henry VIII.: “If you will now unite in your complaints, “And force them with a constancy.” Again, in Coriolanus: “Why force you this?” Malone.

Note return to page 238 1Or of the deadly seven, &c.] It may be useful to know which they are; the reader is, therefore, presented with the following catalogue of them, viz. pride, envy, wrath, sloth, covetousness, gluttony, and lechery. To recapitulate the punishments hereafter for these sins, might have too powerful an effect upon the weak nerves of the present generation; but whoever is desirous of being particularly acquainted with them, may find information in some of the old monkish systems of divinity, and especially in a curious book entitled Le Kalendrier des Bergiers, 1500, folio, of which there is an English translation. Douce.

Note return to page 239 2If it were damnable, &c.] Shakspeare shows his knowledge of human nature in the conduct of Claudio. When Isabella first tells him of Angelo's proposal, he answers, with honest indignation agreeably to his settled principles— “Thou shalt not do't.” But the love of life being permitted to operate, soon furnishes him with sophistical arguments; he believes it cannot be very dangerous to the soul, since Angelo, who is so wise, will venture it. Johnson.

Note return to page 240 3Be perdurably fin'd?] Perdurably is lastingly. So, in Othello: “&lblank; cables of perdurable toughness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 241 4&lblank; and go we know not where;] Dryden has imparted this sentiment to his Aureng-Zebe, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Death in itself is nothing; but we fear “To be we know not what, we know not where.” Steevens.

Note return to page 242 5&lblank; delighted spirit &lblank;] i. e. the spirit accustomed here to ease and delights. This was properly urged as an aggravation to the sharpness of the torments spoken of. The Oxford editor, not apprehending this, alters it to dilated. As if, because the spirit in the body is said to be imprisoned, it was crouded together likewise; and so by death not only set free, but expanded too; which, if true, would make it the less sensible of pain. Warburton. This reading may perhaps stand, but many attempts have been made to correct it. The most plausible is that which substitutes— “&lblank; the benighted spirit;” alluding to the darkness always supposed in the place of future punishment. Perhaps we may read: “&lblank; the delinquent spirit;” a word easily changed to delighted by a bad copier, or unskilful reader. Delinquent is proposed by Thirlby in his manuscript. Johnson. I think with Dr. Warburton, that by the delighted spirit is meant, the soul once accustomed to delight, which, of course, must render the sufferings afterwards described, less tolerable. Thus our author calls youth, blessed, in a former scene, before he proceeds to show its wants and its inconveniencies. Mr. Ritson has furnished me with a passage which I leave to those who can use it for the illustration of the foregoing epithet: “Sir Thomas Herbert, speaking of the death of Mirza, son to Shah Abbas, says, that he gave a period to his miseries in this world, by supping a delighted cup of extreame poyson.” Travels, 1634, p. 104. Steevens.

Note return to page 243 6&lblank; thick-ribbed ice.] Jonson has a similar expression in his Catiline, Act I. Sc. IV. “We're spirits bound in ribs of ice.” The Essenes, a Jewish sect, believed that the wicked went to a dark and cold place. Prideaux, ad ann. 107. Our author again returns to the various destinations of the disembodied spirit, in that pathetic speech of Othello in the fifth Act. Milton seems to have had Shakspeare before him when he wrote the second book of Paradise Lost, 595–603. Blakeway.

Note return to page 244 7&lblank; viewless winds,] i. e. unseen, invisible. So, in Milton's Comus, v. 92: “&lblank; I must be viewless now.” Steevens.

Note return to page 245 8&lblank; lawless and incertain thoughts &lblank;] Conjecture sent out to wander without any certain direction, and ranging through possibilities of pain. Johnson.

Note return to page 246 9&lblank; penury,] The old copy has—perjury. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 247 1To what we fear of death.] Most certainly the idea of the “spirit bathing in fiery floods,” or of residing “in thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice,” is not original to our poet; but I am not sure that they came from the Platonick hell of Virgil. The monks also had their hot and their cold hell: “the fyrste is fyre that ever brenneth, and never gyveth lighte,” says an old homily:— “The seconde is passyng cold, that yf a greate hylle of fyre were cast therin, it shold torne to yce.” One of their legends, well remembered in the time of Shakspeare, gives us a dialogue between a bishop and a soul tormented in a piece of ice, which was brought to cure a brenning heate in his foote; take care, that you do not interpret this the gout, for I remember Menage quotes a canon upon us: “Si quis dixerit episcopum podagrâ laborare, anathema sit.” Another tells us of the soul of a monk fastened to a rock, which the winds were to blow about for a twelvemonth, and purge of its enormities. Indeed this doctrine was before now introduced into poetick fiction, as you may see in a poem, “where the lover declareth his pains to exceed far the pains of hell,” among the many miscellaneous ones subjoined to the works of Surrey: of which you will soon have a beautiful edition from the able hand of my friend Dr. Percy. Nay, a very learned and inquisitive brother-antiquary hath observed to me, on the authority of Blefkenius, that this was the ancient opinion of the inhabitants of Iceland, who were certainly very little read either in the poet or philosopher. Farmer. The edition of Lord Surrey's works mentioned by Dr. Farmer in the preceding note was never published, but the task has since been executed by the able hand of Dr. Nott. Boswell. Lazarus, in The Shepherd's Calendar, is represented to have seen these particular modes of punishment in the infernal regions: “Secondly, I have seen in hell a floud frozen as ice, wherein the envious men and women were plunged unto the navel, and then suddainly came over them a right cold and great wind that grieved and pained them right sore,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 248 1Is't not a kind of incest,] In Isabella's declamation there is something harsh and something forced and far-fetched. But her indignation cannot be thought violent, when we consider her not only as a virgin, but as a nun. Johnson.

Note return to page 249 2&lblank; a warped slip of wilderness &lblank;] Wilderness is here used for wildness, the state of being disorderly. So, in The Maid's Tragedy: “And throws an unknown wilderness about me.” Again, in Old Fortunatus, 1600: “But I in wilderness totter'd out my youth.” The word, in this sense, is now obsolete, though employed by Milton: “The paths, and bowers, doubt not, but our joint hands “Will keep from wilderness with ease.” Steevens.

Note return to page 250 3Take my defiance:] Defiance is refusal. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “I do defy thy commiseration.” Steevens.

Note return to page 251 4&lblank; but a trade:] A custom, a practice; an established habit. So we say of a man much addicted to any thing—he makes a trade of it. Johnson.

Note return to page 252 5Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible:] A condemned man, whom his confessor had brought to bear death with decency and resolution, began anew to entertain hopes of life. This occasioned the advice in the words above. But how did these hopes satisfy his resolution? or what harm was there, if they did? We must certainly read, Do not falsify your resolution with hopes that are fallible. And then it becomes a reasonable admonition. For hopes of life by drawing him back into the world, would naturally elude or weaken the virtue of that resolution which was raised only on motives of religion. And this his confessor had reason to warn him of. The term falsify is taken from fencing, and signifies the pretending to aim a stroke, in order to draw the adversary off his guard. So, Fairfax: “Now strikes he out, and now he falsifieth.” Warburton. The sense is this:—Do not rest with satisfaction on hopes that are fallible. There is no need of alteration. Steevens. Perhaps the meaning is, Do not satisfy or content yourself with that kind of resolution, which acquires strength from a latent hope that it will not be put to the test; a hope that, in your case, if you rely upon it, will deceive you. Malone.

Note return to page 253 6Hold you there:] Continue in that resolution. Johnson.

Note return to page 254 7In good time.] i. e. à la bonne heure, so be it, very well. Steevens.

Note return to page 255 8&lblank; he made trial of you only.] That is, he will say he made trial of you only. M. Mason.

Note return to page 256 9&lblank; by oath,] By inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 257 1&lblank; and limit of the solemnity,] So, in King John: “Prescribes how long the virgin state shall last, &lblank; “Gives limits unto holy nuptial rites.” i. e. appointed times. Malone.

Note return to page 258 2&lblank; her combinate husband,] Combinate is betrothed, settled by contract. Steevens.

Note return to page 259 3&lblank; bestowed her on her own lamentation,] i. e. left her to her sorrows. Malone. Rather, as our author expresses himself in King Henry V.: “gave her up” to them. Steevens.

Note return to page 260 4&lblank; only refer yourself to this advantage,] This is scarcely to be reconciled to any established mode of speech. We may read, only reserve yourself to, or only reserve to yourself this advantage. Johnson. Refer yourself to, merely signifies—have recourse to, betake yourself to, this advantage. Steevens.

Note return to page 261 5&lblank; the corrupt deputy scaled.] To scale the deputy, may be, to reach him, notwithstanding the elevation of his place; or it may be, to strip him and discover his nakedness, though armed and concealed by the investment of authority. Johnson. To scale, as may be learned from a note to Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. I. most certainly means, to disorder, to disconcert, to put to flight. An army routed is called by Holinshed, an army scaled. The word sometimes signifies to diffuse or disperse; at others, as I suppose in the present instance, to put into confusion. Steevens. To scale is certainly to reach (as Dr. Johnson explains it) as well as to disperse or spread abroad, and hence its application to a routed army which is scattered over the field. The Duke's meaning appears to be, either that Angelo would be over-reached, as a town is by the scalade, or that his true character would be spread or laid open, so that his vileness would become evident. Dr. Warburton thinks it is weighed, a meaning which Dr. Johnson affixes to the word in another place. See Coriolanus, Act I. Sc. I. Scaled, however, may mean—laid open, as a corrupt sore is by removing the slough that covers it. The allusion is rendered less disgusting, by more elegant language, in Hamlet: “It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; “Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, “Infects unseen.” Ritson.

Note return to page 262 6&lblank; the moated grange,] A grange is a solitary farm-house. So, in Othello: “&lblank; this is Venice, “My house is not a grange.” Steevens. A grange, in its original signification, meant a farm-house of a monastery, (from grana gerendo,) from which it was always at some little distance. One of the monks was usually appointed to inspect the accounts of the farm. He was called the Prior of the Grange;—in barbarous Latin, Grangiarius. Being placed at a distance from the monastery, and not connected with any other buildings, it was frequently used in the sense of a solitary farm-house. So, in Tarleton's Newes out of Purgatory, printed about the year 1590: “&lblank; till my return I would have thee stay at our little graunge house in the country.” Again, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond: “Thus wrought to sin, soon was I train'd from court “To a solitary grange.” In Lincolnshire they at this day call every lone house that is unconnected with others, a grange. Malone. A grange implies some one particular house immediately inferior in rank to a hall, situated at a small distance from the town or village from which it takes its name; as, Hornby Grange, Blackwell Grange; and is in the neighbourhood simply called The Grange. Originally, perhaps, these buildings were the lord's granary or storehouse, and the residence of his chief bailiff. (Grange, from Granagium, Lat.) Ritson.

Note return to page 263 7&lblank; bastard.] A kind of sweet wine, then much in vogue, from the Italian bastardo. See a note on King Henry IV. Part I. Act II. Sc. IV. Steevens. Bastard was raisin wine. See Minsheu's Dict. in. v. and Cole's Latin Dict. 1679. Malone.

Note return to page 264 8&lblank; since, of two usuries,] Here a satire on usury turns abruptly to a satire on the person of the usurer, without any kind of preparation. We may be assured then, that a line or two, at least, have been lost. The subject of which we may easily discover was a comparison between the two usurers; as, before, between the two usuries. So that, for the future, the passage should be read with asterisks, thus—by order of law, * * * a furr'd gown, &c. Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer corrected this with less pomp: then “since of two usurers the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed, by order of law, a furr'd gown,” &c. His punctuation is right, but the alteration, small as it is, appears more than was wanted. Usury may be used by an easy licence for the professors of usury. Johnson.

Note return to page 265 9&lblank; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, &c.] In this passage the foxes skins are supposed to denote craft, and the lamb-skins innocence. It is evident, therefore, that we ought to read, “furred with fox on lamb-skins,” instead of “and lamb-skins;” for otherwise, craft will not stand for the facing. M. Mason. Fox-skins and lamb-skins were both used as facings to cloth in Shakspeare's time. See the Statute of Apparel, 24 Henry VIII. c. 13. Hence fox-furr'd slave is used as an opprobrious epithet in Wily Beguiled, 1606, and in other old comedies. See also Characterismi, or Lenton's Leasures, &c. 1631: “An Usurer is an old fox, clad in lamb-skin, who hath pray'd [prey'd] so long abroad,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 266 1&lblank; and you, good brother father:] In return to Elbow's blundering address of good father friar, i. e. good father brother, the Duke humorously calls him, in his own style, good brother father. This would appear still clearer in French. Dieu vous benisse, mon pere frere.—Et vous aussi, mon frere pere. There is no doubt that our friar is a corruption of the French frere. Tyrwhitt. Mr. Tyrwhitt's observation is confirmed by a passage in The Strangest Adventure that ever Happened, &c. 4to. 1601: “And I call to mind, that as the reverend father brother, Thomas Sequera, Superiour of Ebora, and mine auncient friend, came to visite me,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 267 2&lblank; a strange pick-lock,] As we hear no more of this charge, it is necessary to prevent honest Pompey from being taken for a house-breaker. The locks which he had occasion to pick, were by no means common, in this country at least. They were probably introduced, with other Spanish customs, during the reign of Philip and Mary; and were so well known in Edinburgh, that in one of Sir David Lindsay's plays, represented to thousands in the open air, such a lock is actually opened on the stage. Ritson. In Ben Jonson's Volpone, Corvino threatens to make his wife wear one of these contrivances: “Then, here's a lock, which I will hang upon thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 268 3I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.] The old editions have— “I drink, I eat away myself, and live.” This is one very excellent instance of the sagacity of our editors, and it were to be wished heartily, that they would have obliged us with their physical solution, how a man can “eat away himself, and live.” Mr. Bishop gave me that most certain emendation, which I have substituted in the room of the former foolish reading; by the help whereof, we have this easy sense: that the Clown fed himself, and put clothes on his back, by exercising the vile trade of a bawd. Theobald.

Note return to page 269 4That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free!] i. e. as faults are destitute of all comeliness or seeming. The first of these lines refers to the deputy's sanctified hypocrisy; the second to the Clown's beastly occupation. But the latter part is thus ill expressed for the sake of the rhyme. Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads: “Free from all faults, as from faults seeming free.” In the interpretation of Dr. Warburton, the sense is trifling, and the expression harsh. To wish that men were as free from faults, as faults are free from comeliness, [instead of void of comeliness,] is a very poor conceit. I once thought it should be read: “O that all were, as all would seem to be, “Free from all faults, or from false seeming free.” So, in this play: “O place, O power—how dost thou “Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls “To thy false seeming!” But now I believe that a less alteration will serve the turn: “Free from all faults, or faults from seeming free.” ‘That men were really good, or that their faults were known,’ that men were free from faults, or faults from hypocrisy. So Isabella calls Angelo's hypocrisy, seeming, seeming. Johnson. I think we should read with Sir T. Hanmer: “Free from all faults, as from faults seeming free.” i. e. ‘I wish we were all as good as we appear to be;’ a sentiment very naturally prompted by his reflection on the behaviour of Angelo. Sir T. Hanmer has only transposed a word to produce a convenient sense. Steevens. Hanmer is right with respect to the meaning of this passage, but I think his transposition unnecessary. The words, as they stand, will express the same sense, if pointed thus: “Free from all faults, as, faults from, seeming free.” Nor is this construction more harsh than that of many other sentences in the play, which, of all those which Shakspeare has left us, is the most defective in that respect. M. Mason. The original copy has not Free at the beginning of the line. It was added unnecessarily by the editor of the second folio, who did not perceive that our, like many words of the same kind, was used by Shakspeare as a dissyllable. The reading,—from all faults, which all the modern editors have adopted, (I think, improperly,) was first introduced in the fourth folio. Dr. Johnson's conjectural reading, or, appears to me very probable. The compositor might have caught the word as from the preceding line. If as be right, Dr. Warburton's interpretation is, perhaps, the true one. Would we were all as free from faults, as faults are free from, or destitute of comeliness, or seeming. This line is rendered harsh and obscure by the word free being dragged from its proper place for the sake of the rhyme. Malone. Till I meet with some decisive instance of the pronoun—our, used as a dissyllable, I read with the second folio, which I cannot suspect of capricious alterations. Steevens.

Note return to page 270 5His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir.] That is, his neck will be tied, like your waist, with a rope. The friars of the Franciscan order, perhaps of all others, wear a hempen cord for a girdle. Thus Buchanan: Fac gemant suis Variata terga funibus. Johnson.

Note return to page 271 6&lblank; Pygmalion's images, newly made woman,] By “Pygmalion's images, newly made woman,” I believe Shakspeare meant no more than—Have you no women now to recommend to your customers, as fresh and untouched as Pygmalion's statue was, at the moment when it became flesh and blood? The passage may, however, contain some allusion to a pamphlet printed in 1598, called The Metamorphosis of Pygmalion's Image, and certain Satires. I have never seen it, but it is mentioned by Ames, p. 568; and whatever its subject might be, we learn from an order signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London, that this book was commanded to be burnt. The order is inserted at the end of the second volume of the entries belonging to the Stationers' Company. Steevens. If Marston's Metamorphosis of Pygmalion's Image be alluded to, I believe it must be in the argument.—“The maide (by the power of Venus) was metamorphosed into a living woman.” Farmer. There may, however, be an allusion to a passage in Lyly's Woman in the Moone, 1597. The inhabitants of Utopia petition Nature for females, that they may, like other beings, propagate their species. Nature grants their request; and “they draw the curtins from before Nature's shop, where stands an image clad, and some unclad, and they bring forth the cloathed image,” &c. Steevens. Perhaps the meaning is,—Is there no courtezan, who being newly made woman, i. e. lately debauched, still retains the appearance of chastity, and looks as cold as a statue, to be had, &c. The following passage in Blurt Master Constable, a Comedy, by Middleton, 1602, seems to authorize this interpretation: “Laz. Are all these women? “Imp. No, no, they are half men, and half women. “Laz. You apprehend too fast. I mean by women, wives; for wives are no maids, nor are maids women.” Mulier in Latin had precisely the same meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 272 7What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain?] Lucio, a prating fop, meets his old friend going to prison, and pours out upon him his impertinent interrogatories, to which, when the poor fellow makes no answer, he adds, “What reply? ha? what say'st thou to this? tune, matter, and method,—is't not? drown'd i' the last rain? ha? what say'st thou, trot?” &c. It is a common phrase used in low raillery of a man crest-fallen and dejected, that “he looks like a drown'd puppy.” Lucio therefore asks him, whether he was “drown'd i' the last rain,” and therefore cannot speak. Johnson. He rather asks him whether his answer was not drown'd in the last rain, for Pompey returns no answer to any of his questions: or, perhaps, he means to compare Pompey's miserable appearance to a drown'd mouse. So, in King Henry VI. Part I. Act I. Sc. II.: “Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 273 8&lblank; what say'st thou, trot?] It should be read, I think, what say'st thou to't? the word trot being seldom, if ever, used to a man. Old trot, or trat, signifies a decrepid old woman, or an old drab. In this sense it is used by Gawin Douglas, Virg. Æn. book iv.: “Out on the old trat, aged dame or wyffe.” Grey. So, in Wily Beguiled, 1613: “Thou toothless old trot thou.” Again, in The Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638: “What can this witch, this wizard, or old trot.” Trot, however, sometimes signifies a bawd. So, in Churchyard's Tragicall Discourse of a dolorous Gentlewoman, 1593: “Awaie old trots, that sets young flesh to sale.” Pompey, it should be remembered, is of this profession. Steevens. Trot, or as it is now often pronounced, honest trout, is a familiar address to a man among the provincial vulgar. Johnson.

Note return to page 274 9Which is the way?] What is the mode now? Johnson.

Note return to page 275 1&lblank; in the tub.] The method of cure for venereal complaints is grossly called the powdering tub. Johnson. It was so called from the method of cure. See the notes on “&lblank; the tub-fast and the diet &lblank;” in Timon, Act IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 276 2&lblank; An unshunn'd consequence:] An iniquitable consequence. Malone.

Note return to page 277 3&lblank; say, I sent thee thither.] Shakspeare seems here to allude to the words used by Gloster, in King Henry VI. Part III. Act V. Sc. VI.: “Down, down to hell; and say—I sent thee thither.” Reed.

Note return to page 278 4&lblank; Go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?] It should be pointed thus: “Go, say I sent thee thither for debt, Pompey; or how”—i. e. to hide the ignominy of thy case, say, I sent thee to prison for debt, or whatever other pretence thou fanciest better. The other humorously replies, “For being a bawd, for being a bawd,” i. e. the true cause is the most honourable. This is in character. Warburton. I do not perceive any necessity for the alteration. Lucio first offers him the use of his name to hide the seeming ignominy of his case; and then very naturally desires to be informed of the true reason why he was ordered into confinement. Steevens. Warburton has taken some pains to amend this passage, which does not require it; and Lucio's subsequent reply to Elbow, shows that his amendment cannot be right. When Lucio advises Pompey to say he sent him to the prison, and in his next speech desires him to commend him to the prison, he speaks as one who had some interest there, and was well known to the keepers. M. Mason.

Note return to page 279 4&lblank; You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.] Alluding to the etymology of the word husband. Malone.

Note return to page 280 5&lblank; it is not the wear.] i. e. it is not the fashion. Steevens.

Note return to page 281 6Then, Pompey? nor now.] The meaning, I think, is: I will neither, bail thee then, nor now. So again, in this play: “More, nor less to others paying &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 282 7Go,—to kennel, Pompey, go:] It should be remembered, that Pompey is the common name of a dog, to which allusion is made in the mention of a kennel. Johnson.

Note return to page 283 8It is too general a vice.] “Yes,” replies Lucio, “the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd:” &c. As much as to say, Yes, truly, it is general; for the greatest men have it as well as we little folks. A little lower he taxes the Duke personally with it. Edwards.

Note return to page 284 9&lblank; and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible.] In the former editions:—“and he is a motion generative; that's infallible.” This may be sense; and Lucio, perhaps, may mean, that though Angelo have the organs of generation, yet that he makes no more use of them, than if he were an inanimate puppet. But I rather think our author wrote,—“and he is a motion ungenerative,” because Lucio again in this very scene says,— “this ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency.” Theobald. A motion generative certainly means a puppet of the masculine gender; a thing that appears to have those powers of which it is not in reality possessed. Steevens. A motion ungenerative is a moving or animated body without the power of generation. Ritson.

Note return to page 285 1&lblank; much detected for women;] This appears so like the language of Dogberry, that at first I thought the passage corrupt, and wished to read suspected. But perhaps detected had anciently the same meaning. So, in an old collection of tales, entitled, Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1595: “An officer whose daughter was detected of dishonestie, and generally so reported.” That detected is there used for suspected, and not in the present sense of the word, appears, I think, from the words that follow—and so generally reported, which seem to relate not to a known but suspected fact. Detected, however, may mean, notoriously charged, or guilty. So, in North's translation of Plutarch: “&lblank; he only of all other kings in his time was most detected with this vice of leacherie.” Again, in Howe's Abridgment of Stowe's Chronicle, 1618, p. 363: “In the month of February divers traiterous persons were apprehended, and detected of most wicked conspiracie against his majesty:—the 7th of Sept. certaine of them wicked subjects were indicted,” &c. Malone. In the Statute 3d Edward First, c. 15, the words “gentz rettez de felonie,” are rendered “persons detected of felony,” that is, as I conceive, suspected. Reed. In this sense, perhaps, it is used in the infamous publication entitled A Detection, &c. of Mary Queen of Scots: “But quho durst accuse the Quene? or (quhilk was in maner mair perilous) quho durst detect Bothwell of sic a horrible offence?” Again, in A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels: &c. Translated from the French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton,] Gentleman, 4to. 1588: “And in truth women are to be detected of no imperfection, jealousie only excepted.” Steevens. Again, in Rich's Adventures of Simonides, 1584, 4to: “&lblank; all Rome, detected of inconstancie.” Henderson.

Note return to page 286 2&lblank; clack-dish:] The beggars, two or three centuries ago, used to proclaim their want by a wooden dish with a moveable cover, which they clacked, to show that their vessel was empty. This appears from a passage quoted on another occasion by Dr. Grey. Dr. Grey's assertion may be supported by the following passage in an old comedy, called The Family of Love, 1608: “Can you think I get my living by a bell and a clack-dish?” “By a bell and a clack-dish? how's that?” “Why, by begging, sir,” &c. Again, in Henderson's Supplement to Chaucer's Troilus and resseid: “Thus shalt thou go a begging from hous to hous, “With cuppe and clappir like a lazarous.” And by a stage direction in The Second Part of King Edward IV. 1619: “Enter Mrs. Blague, very poorly, begging with her basket and a clap-dish.” There is likewise an old proverb to be found in Ray's Collection, which alludes to the same custom: “He claps his dish at a wrong man's door.” Steevens. I will add one other instance, as it describes the fate which befell one of our author's characters, from Turbervile's Songs and Sonets: “I naytheless will wish her well, “And better than to Cressid fell; “I pray she may have better hap, “Than beg her bread with dish and clap, “As she the sielie miser did “When Troylus by the spittle rid.” Malone. A custom is still kept up in the villages near Oxford, about Easter, for the poor people and children to go a clacking: they carry wooden bowls, salt boxes, &c. and make a rattling noise at the houses of the principal inhabitants, who give them bacon, eggs, &c. Harris.

Note return to page 287 3&lblank; an inward of his:] Inward is intimate. So, in Daniel's Hymen's Triumph, 1623: “You two were wont to be most inward friends.” Again, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “Come we must be inward, thou and I all one.” Steevens.

Note return to page 288 4&lblank; A shy fellow was the duke:] The meaning of this term may be best explained by the following lines in the fifth Act: “The wicked'st caitiff on the ground, “May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 289 5&lblank; The greater file of the subject &lblank;] The larger list, the greater number. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the valued file.” Steevens.

Note return to page 290 6&lblank; unweighing &lblank;] i. e. inconsiderate. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard pick'd out of my conversation,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 291 7&lblank; the business he hath helmed,] The difficulties he hath steer'd through. A metaphor from navigation. Steevens.

Note return to page 292 8&lblank; opposite.] i. e. opponent, adversary. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; thou wast not bound to answer “An unknown opposite.” Steevens. The term was in use in Charles the Second's time. See The Woman turn'd Bully, p. 38. Reed.

Note return to page 293 9&lblank; ungenitur'd agent &lblank;] This word seems to be formed from genitoirs, a word which occurs in Holland's Pliny, tom. ii. p. 321, 560, 589, and comes from the French genitoires, the genitals. Tollet.

Note return to page 294 1&lblank; eat mutton on Fridays.] A wench was called a laced mutton. Theobald. So also in the famous Satire on Cardinal Wolsey. See notes on King Henry VIII. Act II. Sc. IV. and Act III. Sc. II.: “And namly one that is the chefe, “Which is not fedd so ofte with rost befe,   “As with rawe motten, so God helpe me.” Again in Doctor Faustus, 1604, Lechery says: “I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of Friday stock-fish.” Steevens. Lucio's words have certainly been rightly explained. The phrase, however, had its origin in times of popery. “In Queene Marye's daies, (says an Abbot of Westminster in a debate in the house of Lords, in 1559,) your honours do know right well, how the people of this realm did live in an order, and would not run before the lawes, nor openly disobey the queenes highnesses procedings and proclamations:—there was no open flesh-eatinge, nor shambles-keeping in the lent, and daies prohibited.” Strype's Annals of the Reformation, vol. i. Append. p. 26. Malone.

Note return to page 295 2He's now past it; yet,] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—“He is not past it yet.” This emendation was received in the former edition, but seems not necessary. It were to be wished, that we all explained more, and amended less. Johnson. If Johnson understood the passage as it stands, I wish he had explained it. To me, Hanmer's amendment appears absolutely necessary. M. Mason. I have inserted Mr. M. Mason's remark; and yet the old reading is, in my opinion, too intelligible to need explanation. Steevens.

Note return to page 296 3&lblank; though she smelt brown bread and garlick:] This was the phraseology of our author's time. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, Master Fenton is said to “smell April and May,” not “to smell of,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 297 4&lblank; forfeit &lblank;] i. e. transgress, offend; from the French forfaire. Steevens.

Note return to page 298 5&lblank; mercy swear, and play the tyrant.] We should read swerve, i. e. deviate from her nature. The common reading gives us the idea of a ranting whore. Warburton. There is surely no need of emendation. We say at present, Such a thing “is enough to make a parson swear,” i. e. deviate from a proper respect to decency, and the sanctity of his character. The idea of swearing agrees very well with that of a tyrant in our ancient mysteries. Steevens. I do not much like mercy swear, the old reading; or mercy swerve, Dr. Warburton's correction. I believe it should be, ‘this would make mercy severe.’ Farmer. We still say, “to swear like an emperor;” and from some old book, of which I unfortunately neglected to copy the title, I have noted—“to swear like a tyrant.” “To swear like a termagant” is quoted elsewhere. Ritson.

Note return to page 299 6&lblank; from the see,] The folio reads: “&lblank; from the sea.” Johnson. The emendation, which is undoubtedly right, was made by Mr. Theobald. In Hall's Chronicle, sea is often written for see. Malone.

Note return to page 300 7There is scarce truth enough alive, to make societies secure; but security enough, to make fellowships accurs'd:] The speaker here alludes to those legal securities into which fellowship leads men to enter for each other. So, in King Henry IV. Part II.: “He would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.” Falstaff, in the same scene, plays, like the Duke, on the same word: “I had as lief they should put ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with security. I look'd he should have sent me two and twenty yards of sattin,—and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security,” &c. Malone. The sense is, “There scarcely exists sufficient honesty in the world to make social life secure; but there are occasions enough where a man may be drawn in to become surety, which will make him pay dearly for his friendships.” In excuse of this quibble, Shakspeare may plead high authority: “He that hateth suretiship is sure.” Prov. xi. 15. Holt White.

Note return to page 301 8&lblank; resolved &lblank;] i. e. satisfied. So, in Middleton's More Dissemblers besides Women, Act I. Sc. III.: “The blessing of perfection to your thoughts, lady; “For I'm resolved they are good ones.” Reed.

Note return to page 302 9&lblank; he is indeed—justice.] Summum jus, summa injuria. Steevens.

Note return to page 303 1Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go;] These lines I cannot understand, but believe that they should be read thus: “Patterning himself to know, “In grace to stand, in virtue go.” To pattern is to work after a pattern, and, perhaps, in Shakspeare's licentious diction, simply to work. The sense is “he that bears the sword of heaven should be holy as well as severe; one that after good examples labours to know himself, to live with innocence, and to act with virtue.” Johnson. This passage is very obscure, nor can be cleared without a more licentious paraphrase than any reader may be willing to allow. “He that bears the sword of heaven should be not less holy than severe: should be able to discover in himself a pattern of such grace as can avoid temptation, together with such virtue as dares venture abroad into the world without danger of seduction.” Steevens. “Grace to stand, and virtue go.” This last line is not intelligible as it stands; but a very slight alteration, the addition of the word in, at the beginning of it, which may refer to virtue as well as to grace, will render the sense of it clear. “Pattern in himself to know,” is to feel in his own breast that virtue which he makes others practise. M. Mason. “Pattern in himself to know,” is, to experience in his own bosom an original principle of action, which, instead of being borrowed or copied from others, might serve as a pattern to them. Our author, in The Winter's Tale, has again used the same kind of imagery: “By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out “The purity of his.” In The Comedy of Errors he uses an expression equally hardy and licentious: “And will have no attorney but myself;” which is an absolute catachresis; an attorney importing precisely a person appointed to act for another. In Every Woman in her Humour, 1609, we find the same expression: “&lblank; he hath but shown “A pattern in himself, what thou shall find “In others.” Malone.

Note return to page 304 2To weed my vice, and let his grow!] i. e. to weed faults out of my dukedom, and yet indulge himself in his own private vices. So, in The Contention betwyxte Churchyeard and Camell, &c. 1560: “For Cato doth affyrme   “Ther is no greater shame, “Than to reprove a vyce   “And your selves do the same.” Steevens. My, does not, I apprehend, relate to the Duke in particular, who had not been guilty of any vice, but to an indefinite person. The meaning seems to be—“To destroy by extirpation” (as it is expressed in another place) a fault that I have committed, and to suffer his own vices to grow to a rank and luxuriant height. The speaker, for the sake of argument, puts himself in the case of an offending person. Malone. The Duke is plainly speaking in his own person. What he here terms “my vice,” may be explained from his conversation in Act I. Sc. IV. with Friar Thomas, and especially the following line: “&lblank; 'twas my fault to give the people scope.” The vice of Angelo requires no explanation. Henley.

Note return to page 305 3Though angel on the outward side!] Here we see what induced our author to give the outward-sainted deputy the name of Angelo. Malone.

Note return to page 306 4&lblank; likeness,] i. e. comeliness—appearance; as we say “a likely man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 307 5How may likeness, made in crimes, Making practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings, Most pond'rous and substantial things!] Thus all the editions read corruptly; and so have made an obscure passage in itself, quite unintelligible. Shakspeare wrote it thus: “How may that likeness, made in crimes “Making practice on the times, “Draw &lblank;” The sense is this. How much wickedness may a man hide within, though he appear angel without. How may that likeness made in crimes, i. e. by hypocrisy, [a pretty paradoxical expression, an angel made in crimes,] by imposing upon the world, [thus emphatically expressed, making practice on the times,] draw with its false and feeble pretences [finely called spiders' strings] the most pondrous and substantial matters of the world, as riches, honour, power, reputation, &c. Warburton. The Revisal reads thus: “How may such likeness trade in crimes, “Making practice on the times, “To draw with idle spiders' strings “Most pond'rous and substantial things!” Meaning by pond'rous and substantial things, pleasure and wealth. Steevens. The old copy reads—Making practice, &c. which renders the passage ungrammatical, and unintelligible. For the emendation now made, [mocking practise,] I am answerable. A line in Macbeth may add some support to it: “Away, and mock the time with fairest show.” There is no one more convinced of the general propriety of adhering to old readings. I have strenuously followed the course which was pointed out and successfully pursued by Dr. Farmer and Mr. Steevens, that of elucidating and supporting our author's genuine text by illustrations drawn from the writings of his contemporaries. But in some cases alteration is a matter not of choice, but necessity: and, surely, the present is one of them. Dr. Warburton, to obtain some sense, omitted the word to in the third line; in which he was followed by all the subsequent editors. But omission, in my apprehension, is, of all the modes of emendation, the most exceptionable. In the passage before us, it is clear, from the context, that some verb must have stood in either the first or second of these lines. Some years ago I conjectured that, instead of made, we ought to read wade, which was used in our author's time in the sense of to proceed. But having since had occasion to observe how often the words mock and make have been confounded in these plays, I am now persuaded that the single error in the present passage is, the word making having been printed instead of mocking, a word of which our author has made very frequent use, and which exactly suits the context. In this very play we have had make instead of mock. [See my note on p. 34.] In the hand-writing of that time, the small c was merely a straight line; so that if it happened to be subjoined and written very close to an o, the two letters might easily be taken for an a. Hence I suppose it was, that these words have been so often confounded. The aukwardness of the expression— “making practice,” of which I have met with no example, may be linewise urged in support of this emendation. Likeness is here used for specious or seeming virtue. So, before: “O seeming, seeming!” The sense then of the passage is,—How may persons, assuming the likeness or semblance of virtue, while they are in fact guilty of the grossest crimes, impose with this counterfeit sanctity upon the world, in order to draw to themselves by the flimsiest pretensions the most solid advantages; i. e. pleasure, honour, reputation, &c. In Much Ado about Nothing, we have a similar thought: “O, what authority and show of truth “Can cunning sin cover itself withal!” Malone. I cannot admit that make, in the ancient copies of our author, has been so frequently printed instead of mock; for the passages in which the one is supposed to have been substituted for the other are still unsettled. But, be this as it may, I neither comprehend the drift of the lines before us as they stand in the old edition, or with the aid of any changes hitherto attempted; and must, therefore, bequeath them to the luckier efforts of future criticism. Steevens. By made in crimes, the Duke means, trained in iniquity, and perfect in it. Thus we say—a made horse; a made pointer; meaning one well trained. M. Mason.

Note return to page 308 6So disguise shall, by the disguis'd,] So disguise shall, by means of a person disguised, return an injurious demand with a counterfeit person. Johnson.

Note return to page 309 7Take, oh take, &c.] This is part of a little song of Shakspeare's own writing, consisting of two stanzas, and so extremely sweet, that the reader won't be displeased to have the other: “Hide, oh hide those hills of snow,   “Which thy frozen bosom bears, “On whose tops the pinks that grow,   “Are of those that April wears. “But first set my poor heart free, “Bound in those icy chains by thee.” Warburton. This song is entire in Beaumont's Bloody Brother, and in Shakspeare's Poems. The latter stanza is omitted by Mariana, as not suiting a female character. Theobald. Though Sewell and Gildon have printed this among Shakspeare's Poems, they have done the same to so many other pieces, of which the real authors are since known, that their evidence is not to be depended on. It is not found in Jaggard's edition of our author's Sonnets, which was printed during his life-time. Our poet, however, has introduced one of the same thoughts in his 142d Sonnet: “&lblank; not from those lips of thine “That have prophan'd their scarlet ornaments, “And seal'd false bonds of love, as oft as mine.” Steevens. Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, “What bargains may I make, still to be sealing.” Malone. The same image occurs also in the old black-letter translation of Amadis of Gaule, 4to. p. 171: “&lblank; rather with kisses (which are counted the seales of love) they chose to confirm their unanimitie, than otherwise to offend a resolved pacience.” Reed. This song is found entire in Shakspeare's Poems, printed in 1640; but that is a book of no authority; yet I believe that both these stanzas were written by our author. Malone. See more on this subject in a note on this song in Shakspeare's poems. Boswell.

Note return to page 310 8My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe.] Though the musick soothed my sorrows, it had no tendency to produce light merriment. Johnson.

Note return to page 311 9&lblank; constantly &lblank;] Certainly; without fluctuation of mind. Johnson. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “Could so much turn the constitution “Of any constant man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 312 1&lblank; circummur'd with brick,] Circummured, walled round. “He caused the doors to be mured and cased.” Painter's Palace of Pleasure. Johnson.

Note return to page 313 2&lblank; a planched gate,] i. e. a gate made of boards. Planche, French. A plancher is a plank. So, in Lyly's Maid's Metamorphosis, 1600: “&lblank; upon the ground doth lie “A hollow plancher &lblank;.” Again, in Sir Arthur Gorges' translation of Lucan, 1614: “Yet with his hoofes doth beat and rent “The planched floore, the barres and chaines.” Steevens.

Note return to page 314 3There have I, &c.] In the old copy the lines stand thus: “There have I made my promise upon the “Heavy middle of the night, to call upon him.” Steevens. The present regulation was made by Mr. Steevens. Malone.

Note return to page 315 4In action all of precept,] i. e. shewing the several turnings of the way with his hand; which action contained so many precepts, being given for my direction. Warburton. I rather think we should read— “In precept of all action, &lblank;” that is, “in direction given not by words, but by mute signs.” Johnson.

Note return to page 316 5&lblank; I have possess'd him,] I have made him clearly and strongly comprehend. Johnson. To possess had formerly the sense of inform or acquaint. As in Every Man in his Humour, Act I. Sc. V. Captain Bobadil says: “Possess no gentleman of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging.” Reed.

Note return to page 317 6That stays upon me;] So, in Macbeth: “Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 318 7O place and greatness,] It plainly appears that this fine speech belongs to that which concludes the preceding scene between the Duke and Lucio: for they are absolutely foreign to the subject of this, and are the natural reflections arising from that. Besides, the very words— “Run with these false and most contrarious quests,” evidently refer to Lucio's scandals just preceding; which the Oxford editor, in his usual way, has emended, by altering these to their. But that some time might be given to the two women to confer together, the players, I suppose, took part of the speech, beginning at “No might nor greatness,” &c. and put it here, without troubling themselves about its pertinency. However, we are obliged to them for not giving us their own impertinency, as they have frequently done in other places. Warburton. I cannot agree that these are placed here by the players. The sentiments are common, and such as a prince, given to reflection, must have often present. There was a necessity to fill up the time in which the ladies converse apart, and they must have quick tongues and ready apprehensions if they understood each other while this speech was uttered. Johnson.

Note return to page 319 8&lblank; millions of false eyes &lblank;] That is, eyes insidious and traiterous. Johnson. So, in Chaucer's Sompnoures Tale, Tyrwhitt's edit. v. 7633: “Ther is ful many an eye, and many an ere, “Awaiting on a lord,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 320 9&lblank; contrarious quests &lblank;] Different reports, running counter to each other. Johnson. So, in Othello: “The senate has sent out three several quests.” In our author's King Richard III. is a passage in some degree similar to the foregoing: “My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, “And every tongue brings in a several tale, “And every tale condemns &lblank;.” Steevens. I incline to think that quests here means inquisitions, in which sense the word was used in Shakspeare's time. See Minsheu's Dict. in v. Cole, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders “A quest,” by “examen, inquisitio.” Malone. False and contrarious quests, in this place, rather mean lying and contradictory messengers, with whom run volumes of report. An explanation, which the line quoted by Mr. Steevens will serve to confirm. Ritson.

Note return to page 321 1&lblank; 'scapes of wit &lblank;] i. e. sallies, irregularities. So, in King John, Act III. Sc. IV.: “No 'scape of nature, no distemper'd day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 322 2And rack thee in their fancies!] Though rack, in the present instance, may signify torture or mangle, it might also mean confuse; as the rack, i. e. fleeting cloud, renders the object behind it obscure, and of undetermined form. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “That which was now a horse, even with a thought, “The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, “As water is in water.” Steevens.

Note return to page 323 3Doth flourish the deceit.] A metaphor taken from embroidery, where a coarse ground is filled up, and covered with figures of rich materials and elegant workmanship. Warburton. Flourish is ornament in general, So, in our author's Twelfth Night, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil.” Steevens. Dr. Warburton's illustration of the metaphor seems to be inaccurate. The passage from another of Shakspeare's plays, quoted by Mr. Steevens, suggests to us the true one. The term—flourish, alludes to the flowers impressed on the waste printed paper and old books, with which trunks are commonly lined. Henley. When it is proved that the practice alluded to, was as ancient as the time of Shakspeare, Mr. Henley's explanation may be admitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 324 4&lblank; for yet our tithe's to sow.] As before, the blundering editors have made a prince of the priestly Angelo, so here they have made a priest of the prince. We should read tilth, i. e. our tillage is yet to make. The grain from which we expect our harvest, is not yet put into the ground. Warburton. The reader is here attacked with a petty sophism. We should read tilth, i. e. our tillage is to make. But in the text it is to sow; and who has ever said that his tillage was to sow? I believe tythe is right, and that the expression is proverbial, in which tythe is taken, by an easy metonymy, for harvest. Johnson. Dr. Warburton did not do justice to his own conjecture; and no wonder, therefore, that Dr. Johnson has not.—Tilth is provincially used for land till'd, prepared for sowing. Shakspeare, however, has applied it before in its usual acceptation. Farmer. Dr. Warburton's conjecture may be supported by many instances in Markham's English Husbandman, 1635: “After the beginning of March you shall begin to sowe your barley upon that ground which the year before did lye fallow, and is commonly called your tilth or fallow field.” In p. 74 of this book, a corruption, like our author's, occurs: “As before, I said beginne to failow your tithe field;” whlch is undoubtedly misprinted for tilth field. Tollet. Tilth is used for crop, or harvest, by Gower, De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 93, b.: “To sowe cockill with the corne, “So that the tilth is nigh forlorne, “Which Christ sew first his owne honde.” Shakspeare uses the word tilth in a former scene of this play; and, (as Dr. Farmer has observed,) in its common acceptation: “&lblank; her plenteous womb “Expresseth its full tilth and husbandry.” Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none.” But my quotation from Gower shows that, to sow tilth, was a phrase once in use. Steevens. This conjecture appears to me extremely probable. Malone.

Note return to page 325 5&lblank; an unpitied whipping;] i. e. an unmerciful one. Steevens.

Note return to page 326 6&lblank; a good favour &lblank;] Favour is countenance. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; why so tart a favour, “To publish such good tidings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 327 7&lblank; what mystery, &c.] Though I have adopted an emendation independent of the following note, the omission of it would have been unwarrantable. Steevens. “&lblank; what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. “Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. “Clo. Proof. “Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief: “Clo. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief.” Thus it stood in all the editions till Mr. Theobald's, and was, methinks, not very difficult to be understood. The plain and humorous sense of the speech is this. Every true man's apparel, which the thief robs him of, fits the thief. Why? Because, if it be too little for the thief, the true man thinks it big enough: i. e. a purchase too good for him. So that this fits the thief in the opinion of the true man. But if it be too big for the thief, yet the thief thinks it little enough: i. e. of value little enough. So that this fits the thief in his own opinion. Where we see, that the pleasantry of the joke consists in the equivocal sense of big enough, and little enough. Yet Mr. Theobald says, he can see no sense in all this, and therefore alters the whole thus: “Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. “Clown. If it be too little for your true man, your thief thinks it big enough: if it be too big for your true man, your thief thinks it little enough.” And for his alteration gives this extraordinary reason.—“I am satisfied the poet intended a regular syllogism; and I submit it to judgment, whether my regulation has not restored that wit and humour which was quite lost in the depravation.”—But the place is corrupt, though Mr. Theobald could not find it out. Let us consider it a little. The Hangman calls his trade a mistery: the Clown cannot conceive it. The Hangman undertakes to prove it in these words, “Every true man's apparel,” &c. but this proves the thief's trade a mistery, not the hangman's. Hence it appears, that the speech, in which the Hangman proved his trade a mistery, is lost. The very words it is impossible to retrieve, but one may easily understand what medium he employed in proving it: without doubt, the very same the Clown employed to prove the thief's trade a mistery; namely, “that all sorts of clothes fitted the hangman.” The Clown, on hearing this argument, replied, I suppose, to this effect: “Why, by the same kind of reasoning, I can prove the thief's trade too to be a mistery.” The other asks how, and the Clown goes on as above, “Every true man's apparel fits your thief; if it be too little,” &c. The jocular conclusion from the whole being an insinuation that thief and hangman were rogues alike. This conjecture gives a spirit and integrity to the dialogue, which, in its present mangled condition, is altogether wanting; and shews why the argument of “every true man's apparel,” &c. was in all editions given to the Clown, to whom indeed it belongs; and likewise that the present reading of that argument is the true. Warburton. If Dr. Warburton had attended to the argument by which the Bawd proves his own profession to be a mystery, he would not have been driven to take refuge in the groundless supposition, “that part of the dialogue had been lost or dropped.” The argument of the Hangman is exactly similar to that of the Bawd. As the latter puts in his claim to the whores, as members of his occupation, and, in virtue of their painting, would enroll his own fraternity in the mystery of painters; so the former equally lays claim to the thieves, as members of his occupation, and, in their right, endeavours to rank his brethren, the hangmen, under the mystery of fitters of apparel, or tailors. The reading of the old editions is, therefore, undoubtedly right; except that the last speech, which makes part of the Hangman's argument, is, by mistake, as the reader's own sagacity will readily perceive, given to the Clown or Bawd. I suppose, therefore, the poet gave us the whole thus: “Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. “Clown. Proof. “Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough: if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief.” I must do Dr. Warburton the justice to acknowledge, that he hath rightly apprehended and explained the force of the Hangman's argument. Heath. There can be no doubt but the word Clown, prefixed to the last sentence, “If it be too little,” &c. should be struck out. It makes part of Abhorson's argument, who has undertaken to prove that hanging was a mystery, and convinces the Clown of it by this very speech. M. Mason.

Note return to page 328 8Every true man's apparel fits your thief:] So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578, the Hangman says: “Here is nyne and twenty sutes of apparell for my share.” True man, in the language of ancient times, is always placed in opposition to thief. So, in Churchyard's Warning to Wanderers Abroade, 1593: “The priuy thiefe that steales away our wealth, “Is sore afraid a true man's steps to see.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens seems to be mistaken in his assertion that true man in ancient times was always placed in opposition to thief. At least in the Book of Genesis, there is one instance to the contrary, ch. xlii. v. 11: “We are all one man's sons: we are all true men; thy servants are no spies.” Henley.

Note return to page 329 9&lblank; ask forgiveness.] So, in As You Like It: “&lblank; The common executioner, “Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, “Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, “But first begs pardon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 330 1&lblank; yare:] i. e. handy, nimble in the execution of my office. So, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “His ships are yare, yours heavy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 331 2&lblank; a good turn.] i. e. a turn off the ladder. He quibbles on the phrase according to its common acceptation. Farmer.

Note return to page 332 3&lblank; starkly &lblank;] Stiffly. These two lines afford a very pleasing image. Johnson. So, in The Legend of Lord Hastings, 1575: “Least starke with rest they finew'd waxe and hoare.” Again, in an ancient Poem quoted in MS. Harl. 4690: “Alle displayedde on the grounde, “And layne starkly on blode &lblank;.” Again, Thomas Lupton's Fourth Booke of Notable Thinges:— “Synewes cutte, starke, or sprayned in travell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 4They will then,] Perhaps—she will then. Sir J. Hawkins. The Duke expects Isabella and Mariana. A little afterward he says: “&lblank; Now are they come.” Ritson.

Note return to page 334 5Even with the stroke &lblank;] Stroke is here put for the stroke of a pen or a line. Johnson.

Note return to page 335 6To qualify &lblank;] To temper, to moderate, as we say wine is qualified with water. Johnson. Thus before in this play: “So to enforce, or qualify the laws.” Again, in Othello: “I have drank but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too.” Steevens

Note return to page 336 7&lblank; were he meal'd &lblank;] Were he sprinkled; were he defiled. A figure of the same kind our author uses in Macbeth: “The blood-bolter'd Banquo.” Johnson. More appositely, in The Philosophers Satires, by Robert Anton: “As if their perriwigs to death they gave, “To meale them in some gastly dead man's grave.” Steevens. Mealed is mingled, compounded; from the French mesler. Blackstone.

Note return to page 337 8But this being so,] The tenor of the argument seems to require —But this not being so &lblank;. Perhaps, however, the author meant only to say—But, his life being paralleled, &c. he's just. Malone.

Note return to page 338 9That spirit's possess'd with haste, That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes.] The line is irregular, and the old reading, unresisting postern, so strange an expression, that want of measure, and want of sense, might justly raise suspicion of an error; yet none of the later editors seem to have supposed the place faulty, except Sir Thomas Hanmer, who reads: “&lblank; the unresting postern &lblank;” The three folios have it— “&lblank; unsisting postern &lblank;” out of which Mr. Rowe made unresisting, and the rest followed him. Sir Thomas Hanmer seems to have supposed unresisting the word in the copies, from which he plausibly enough extracted unresting; but he grounded his emendation on the very syllable that wants authority. What can be made of unsisting I know not; the best that occurs to me is unfeeling. Johnson. Unsisting may signify “never at rest,” always opening. Blackstone. I should think we might safely read, unlist'ning postern, or unshifting postern. The measure requires it, and the sense remains uninjured. Mr. M. Mason would read unlisting, which means unregarding. I have, however, inserted Sir William Blackstone's emendation in the text. Steevens. Mr. Steevens forgot that Sir William Blackstone proposed no emendation, but supported the reading of the folio. Boswell.

Note return to page 339 1&lblank; siege of justice,] i. e. seat of justice. Siege, French. So in Othello: “&lblank; I fetch my birth “From men of royal siege.” Steevens.

Note return to page 340 2This is his lordship's man.] The old copy has—his lord's man. Corrected by Mr. Pope. In the MS. plays of our author's time they often wrote Lo. for Lord, and Lord. for Lordship; and these contractions were sometimes improperly followed in the printed copies. So, in The Taming of A Shrew, folio 1623: “Will it please your lord. drink a cup of sacke.” Malone.

Note return to page 341 3Enter a Messenger. Duke. This is his lordship's man. Prov. And here comes Claudio's pardon.] The Provost has just declared a fixed opinion that the execution will not be countermanded, and yet, upon the first appearance of the Messenger, he immediately guesses that his errand is to bring Claudio's pardon. It is evident, I think, that the names of the speakers are misplaced. If we suppose the Provost to say: “This is his lordship's man,” it is very natural for the Duke to subjoin, “And here comes Claudio's pardon.” The Duke might believe, upon very reasonable grounds, that Angelo had now sent the pardon. It appears that he did so, from what he says to himself, while the Provost is reading the letter: “This is his pardon; purchas'd by such sin.” Tyrwhitt. When, immediately after the Duke had hinted his expectation of a pardon, the Provost sees the Messenger, he supposes the Duke to have known something, and changes his mind. Either reading may serve equally well. Johnson.

Note return to page 342 4&lblank; putting on:] i. e. spur, incitement. So, in Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. III.: “&lblank; the powers above “Put on their instruments.” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 5&lblank; one that is a prisoner nine years old.] i. e. That has been confined these nine years. So, in Hamlet: “Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike preparation,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 344 6&lblank; desperately mortal.] This expression is obscure. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, mortally desperate. Mortally is in low conversation used in this sense, but I know not whether it was ever written. I am inclined to believe, that desperately mortal means desperately mischievous. Or desperately mortal may mean a man likely to die in a desperate state, without reflection or repentance. Johnson. The word is often used by Shakspeare in the sense first affixed to it by Dr. Johnson, which I believe to be the true one. So, in Othello: “And you, ye mortal engines,” &c. Malone. As our author, in The Tempest, seems to have written “harmonious charmingly,” instead of “harmoniously charming,” he may, in the present instance, have given us “desperately mortal,” for “mortally desperate:” i. e. desperate in the extreme. In low provincial language,—mortal sick, mortal bad, mortal poor, is phraseology of frequent occurrence. Steevens.

Note return to page 345 7&lblank; in the boldness of my cunning,] i. e. in confidence of my sagacity. Steevens.

Note return to page 346 8&lblank; the favour.] See note 6, p. 146. Steevens.

Note return to page 347 9&lblank; and tie the beard;] The Revisal recommends Mr. Simpson's emendation, die the beard, but the present reading may stand. Perhaps it was usual to tie up the beard before decollation. Sir T. More is said to have been ludicrously careful about this ornament of his face. It should, however, be remembered, that it was also the custom to die beards. So, in the old comedy of Ram-Alley, 1611: “What colour'd beard comes next by the window? “A black man's, I think. “I think, a red; for that is most in fashion.” Again, in The Silent Woman: “I have fitted my divine and canonist, dyed their beards and all.” Again, in The Alchemist: “&lblank; he had dy'd his beard, and all.” Steevens. A beard tied would give a very new air to that face, which had never been seen but with the beard loose, long, and squalid. Johnson.

Note return to page 348 1&lblank; to be so bared &lblank;] These words relate to what has just preceded—shave the head. The modern editions, following the fourth folio, read—to be so barb'd; but the old copy is certainly right. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem.” Malone.

Note return to page 349 2&lblank; You know, the course is common.] P. Mathieu, in his Heroyke Life and Deplorable Death of Henry the Fourth, of France, says, that Ravaillac, in the midst of his tortures, lifted up his head and shook a spark of fire from his beard. “This unprofitable care, (he adds,) to save it, being noted, afforded matter to divers to praise the custome in Germany, Swisserland, and divers other places, to shave off, and then to burn all the haire from all parts of the bodies of those who are convicted for any notorious crimes.” Grimston's Translation, 4to. 1612, p. 181. Reed. This alludes to a practice frequent amongst Roman Catholicks, of desiring to receive the tonsure of the Monks before they die. It cannot allude to the custom which Mr. Reed tells us was established in some parts of Germany, that of shaving criminals previous to their execution, as here the penitent is supposed to be bared at his own request. M. Mason.

Note return to page 350 3&lblank; nothing of what is writ.] We should read—here writ; the Duke pointing to the letter in his hand. Warburton.

Note return to page 351 4&lblank; the unfolding star calls up the shepherd:] “The star, that bids the shepherd fold, “Now the top of heaven doth hold.” Milton's Comus. Steevens. “So doth the evening star present itself “Unto the careful shepherd's gladsome eyes, “By which unto the fold he leads his flock.” Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1613. Malone.

Note return to page 352 5&lblank; this shall absolutely resolve you.] That is, shall entirely convince you. M. Mason.

Note return to page 353 6&lblank; in our house of profession:] i. e. in my late mistress's house, which was a professed, a notorious bawdy-house. Malone.

Note return to page 354 7First, here's young master Rash, &c.] This enumeration of the inhabitants of the prison affords a very striking view of the practices predominant in Shakspeare's age. Besides those whose follies are common to all times, we have four fighting men and a traveller. It is not unlikely that the originals of the pictures were then known. Johnson. All the names here mentioned are characteristical. Rash was a fine silken stuff formerly worn in coats. So, in A Reply as true as Steele, to a Rusty, Rayling, Ridiculous, Lying Libell, which was lately written by an impudent unsoder'd Ironmonger, and called by the Name of An Answer to a foolish Pamphlet entitled A Swarme of Sectaries and Schismatiques. By John Taylour, 1641: “And with mockado suit, and judgement rash, “And tongue of saye, thou'lt say all is but trash.” Sericum rasum. See Minsheu's Dict. in v. Rash, and Florio's Italian Dict. 1598, in v. rascia, rascetta. Malone. Rash was the name of some kind of stuff. So, in An Aprill Shower, shed in Abundance of Tears, for the Death and incomparable Losse, &c. of Richard Sacvile, &c. Earl of Dorset, &c. 1624: “For with the plainest plaine yee saw him goe, “In ciuill blacke of Rash, of Serge, or so; “The liuerie of wise stayednesse &lblank;.” Steevens. If this term alludes to the stuff so called, (which was probably one of the commodities fraudulently issued out by money-lenders,) there is nevertheless a pun intended. So, in an old MS. poem, entitled, The Description of Women: “Their head is made of Rash, “Their tongues are made of Say.” Douce.

Note return to page 355 8&lblank; a commodity of brown paper and old ginger,] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read, brown pepper; but the following passage in Michaelmas Term, Com. 1607, will completely establish the original reading: “I know some gentlemen in town have been glad, and are glad at this time, to take up commodities in hawk's-hoods and brown paper.” Again, in A New Trick to cheat the Devil, 1636: “&lblank; to have been so bit already “With taking up commodities of brown paper, “Buttons past fashion, silks, and sattins, “Babies and children's fiddles, with like trash “Took up at a dear rate, and sold for trifles.” Again, in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier, 1620: “For the merchant, he delivered the iron, tin, lead, hops, sugars, spices, oyls, brown paper, or whatever else, from six months to six months: which when the poor gentleman came to sell again, he could not make three score and ten in the hundred besides the usury.” Again, in Greene's Defence of Coney-catching, 1592: “&lblank; so that if he borrow an hundred pound, he shall have forty in silver, and threescore in wares; as lute-strings, hobby-horses, or brown paper, or cloath,” &c. Again, in The Spanish Curate of Beaumont and Fletcher: “Commodities of pins, brown papers, packthread.” Again, in Gascoigne's Steele Glasse: “To teach young men the trade to sell browne paper.” Again, in Hall's Satires, lib. iv.: “But Nummius eas'd the needy gallant's care, “With a base bargaine of his blowen ware, “Of fusted hoppes now lost for lacke of sayle, “Or mol'd browne-paper that could nought auaile.” Again, in Decker's Seven deadly Sinnes of London, 4to. bl. l. 1606: “&lblank; and these are usurers, who, for a little money, and a great deale of trash, (as fire-shouels, browne paper, motley cloake-bags, &c.) bring young nouices into a foole's paradice, till they have sealed the mortgage of their landes,” &c. Steevens. “A commodity of brown paper &lblank;.” Mr. Steevens supports this rightly. Fennor asks, in his Compter's Commonwealth, “suppose the commodities are delivered after Signior Unthrift and Master Broaker have both sealed the bonds, how must those hobby-horses, reams of brown paper, Jewes trumpes and bables, babies and rattles, be solde?” Farmer. The practices of the money-lenders of Shakspeare's time are thus minutely described by Nashe, in a pamphlet entitled Christ's Teares over Jerusalem, 1594: “He [a usurer] falls acquainted with gentlemen, frequents ordinaries and dicing-houses dayly, where when some of them at play have lost all their mony, he is very diligent at hand, on their chaines and bracelets, or jewels, to lend them half the value. Now this is the nature of young gentlemen, that where they have broke the ise, and borrowed once, they will come again the second time; and that these young foxes know as well as the beggar knows his dish. But at the second time of their coming, it is doubtful to say whether they shall have money or no. The world growes hard, and wee all are mortal; let him make him any assurance before a judge, and they shall have some hundred pounds per consequence, in silks and velvets. The third time if they come, they shall have baser commodities: the fourth time, lute-strings and grey paper.” Malone. In a MS. Letter from Sir John Hollis to Lord Burleigh, is the following passage: “Your Lordship digged into my auncestors graves, and pulling one up from his 70 yeares reste, pronounced him an abominable usurer and merchante of browne paper, so hatefull and contemptible that the players acted him before the kinge with great applause.” And again: “Nevertheles I denye that any of them were merchantes of browne paper, neither doe I thinke any other but your Lordship's imagination ever sawe or hearde any of them playde upon a stage; and that they were such usurers I suppose your Lordship will want testimonye.” Douce.

Note return to page 356 9&lblank; ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead.] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “I would, she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever knapt ginger.” Steevens.

Note return to page 357 1&lblank; young Dizy,] The old copy has—Dizey. This name, like the rest, must have been designed to convey some meaning. It might have been corrupted from Dicey, i. e. one addicted to dice; or from Dizzy, i. e. giddy, thoughtless. Thus, Milton styles the people “&lblank; the dizzy multitude.” Steevens.

Note return to page 358 2&lblank; master Forthright &lblank;] The old copy reads—Forthlight. Dr. Johnson, however, proposes to read—Forthright, alluding to the line in which the thrust is made. Reed. Shakspeare uses the word forthright in The Tempest: “Through forthrights and meanders.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida, Act III. Sc. III.: “Or hedge aside from the direct forthright.” Steevens.

Note return to page 359 3&lblank; and brave master Shoe-tie the great traveller,] The old copy reads—Shooty; but as most of these are compound names, I suspect that this was originally written as I have printed it. At this time shoe-strings were generally worn. So, in Decker's Match me in London, 1631: “I think your wedding shoes have not been oft untied.” Again, in Randolph's Muses' Looking Glass, 1638: “Bending his supple hams, kissing his hands, “Honouring shoe-strings.” Again, in Marston's 8th Satire: “Sweet-faced Corinna, daine the riband tie “Of thy corke-shooe, or els thy slave will die.” As the person described was a traveller, it is not unlikely that he might be solicitous about the minutiæ of dress; and the epithet brave, i. e. showy, seems to countenance the supposition. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's supposition is strengthened by Ben Jonson's Epigram upon English Monsieur. Whalley's edit. vol. vi. p. 253: “That so much scarf of France, and hat and feather, “And shoe, and tye, and garter, should come hither.” Tollet. The finery which induced our author to give his traveller the name of Shoe-tie was used on the stage in his time. “Would not this, sir, (says Hamlet,) and a forest of feathers,—with two provincial roses on my raz'd shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?” Malone. The roses mentioned in the foregoing instance were not the ligatures of the shoe, but the ornaments above them. Steevens.

Note return to page 360 5&lblank; for the Lord's sake.] i. e. to beg for the rest of their lives. Warburton. I rather think this expression intended to ridicule the Puritans, whose turbulence and indecency often brought them to prison, and who considered themselves as suffering for religion. It is not unlikely that men imprisoned for other crimes might represent themselves to casual enquirers as suffering for puritanism, and that this might be the common cant of the prisons. In Donne's time, every prisoner was brought to jail by suretiship. Johnson. Thus, in Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, 1594: “Baudes, if they be imprisoned or carried to bridewell for their baudrie, they give out they suffer for the Church.” The word in (now expunged in consequence of a following and apposite quotation of Mr. Malone's) had been supplied by some of the modern editors. The phrase which Dr. Johnson has justly explained is used in A new Trick to cheat the Devil, 1636: “&lblank; I held it, wife, a deed of charity, and did it for the Lord's sake.” Steevens. I believe Dr. Warburton's explanation is right. It appears from a poem entitled Paper's Complaint, printed among Davies's Epigrams, [about the year 1611,] that this was the language in which prisoners who were confined for debt addressed passengers: “Good gentle writers, for the Lord's sake, for the Lord's sake, “Like Ludgate prisoner, lo, I, begging, make “My mone.” Again, in Nashe's Apologie for Pierce Pennilesse, 1593: “At that time that thy joys were in the fleeting, and thus crying for the Lord's sake out at an iron window.” The meaning, however, may be, to beg or borrow for the rest of their lives. A passage in Much Ado About Nothing, may countenance this interpretation: “he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging to it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath used so long, and never paid, that men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake.” Mr. Pope reads—and are now in for the Lord's sake. Perhaps unnecessarily. In King Henry IV. Part I. Falstaff says—“there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and they are for the town's end,—to beg during life.” Malone.

Note return to page 361 6&lblank; to clap into your prayers;] This cant phrase occurs also in As You Like It: “Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking or spitting?” Steevens.

Note return to page 362 7After him, fellows;] Here is a line given to the Duke, which belongs to the Provost. The Provost, while the Duke is lamenting the obduracy of the prisoner, cries out: “After him, fellows,” &c. and when they are gone out, turns again to the Duke. Johnson. I do not see why this line should be taken from the Duke, and still less why it should be given to the Provost, who, by his question to the Duke in the next line, appears to be ignorant of every thing that has passed between him and Barnardine. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 363 8&lblank; to transport him &lblank;] To remove him from one world to another. The French trépas affords a kindred sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 364 9The under generation,] So, Sir Thomas Hanmer, with true judgment. It was in all the former editions: “To yonder &lblank;” ye under and yonder were confounded. Johnson. The old reading is not yonder, but yond. By the under generation our poet means the antipodes. So, in King Richard II.: “&lblank; when the searching eye of heaven is hid “Behind the globe, and lights the lower world.” Again, in Chapman's version of the nineteenth Iliad: “Gave light to all; as well to gods, as men of th' under globe.” Again, in Fletcher's Two Noble Kinsmen: “&lblank; clap their wings and sing “To all the under world &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 365 1&lblank; weal-balanced form,] Thus the old copy, Mr. Heath thinks that well-balanced is the true reading; and Hanmer was of the same opinion. In Milton's Ode on The Nativity, we also meet with the same compound epithet: “And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung.” Steevens. Weal-balanced is a pompous expression, without any meaning. I agree, therefore, with Heath, in reading—well-balanced. M. Mason.

Note return to page 366 2When it is least expected.] A better reason might have been given. It was necessary to keep Isabella in ignorance, that she might with more keenness accuse the deputy. Johnson.

Note return to page 367 3&lblank; your bosom &lblank;] Your wish; your heart's desire. Johnson.

Note return to page 368 4I am combined by a sacred vow,] I once thought this should be confined, but Shakspeare uses combine for to bind by a pact or agreement; so he calls Angelo the combinate husband of Mariana. Johnson. The verb, to combine, appears to be as irregularly used by Chapman, in his version of the sixteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; as thou art mine, “And as thy veins my own true blood combine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 369 5Wend you &lblank;] To wend is to go.—An obsolete word. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend.” Again, in Orlando Furioso, 1599: “To let his daughter wend with us to France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 370 6&lblank; if the old, &c.] Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—the odd fantastical duke; but old is a common word of aggravation in ludicrous language, as, “there was old revelling.” Johnson. “&lblank; duke of dark corners.” This duke who meets his mistresses in by-places. So, in King Henry VIII.: “There is nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, “Deserves a corner.” Malone.

Note return to page 371 7&lblank; he lives not in them.] i. e. his character depends not on them. So, in Much Ado About Nothing: “The practice of it lives in John the bastard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 372 8&lblank; woodman &lblank;] A woodman seems to have been an attendant or servant to the officer called Forrester. See Manwood on the Forest Laws, 4to. 1615, p. 46. It is here, however, used in a wanton sense, and was, probably, in our author's time, generally so received. In like manner in The Chances, Act I. Sc. IX. the Landlady says: “&lblank; Well, well, son John, “I see you are a woodman, and can choose “Your deer tho' it be i' th' dark.” Reed. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Falstaff asks his mistresses: “&lblank; Am I a woodman? Ha!” Steevens.

Note return to page 373 9Ang. And why should we, &c.] It is the conscious guilt of Angelo that prompts this question. The reply of Escalus is such as arises from an undisturbed mind, that only considers the mysterious conduct of the Duke in a political point of view. Steevens.

Note return to page 374 1&lblank; let it be proclaim'd: Betimes i' the morn, &c.] Perhaps it should be pointed thus: “&lblank; let it be proclaim'd “Betimes i' the morn: I'll call you at your house.” So above: “And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering?” Malone.

Note return to page 375 2&lblank; sort and suit,] Figure and rank. Johnson. Not so, as I imagine, in this passage. In the feudal times all vassals were bound to hold suit and service to their over-lord; that is, to be ready at all times to attend and serve him, either when summoned to his courts, or to his standard in war. “Such men of sort and suit as are to meet him,” I presume, means the Duke's vassals or tenants in capite. Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786. Steevens.

Note return to page 376 3&lblank; makes me unpregnant,] In the first scene the Duke says that Escalus is pregnant, i. e. ready in the forms of law. Unpregnant, therefore, in the instance before us, is unready, unprepared. Steevens.

Note return to page 377 4&lblank; Yet reason dares her?—no:] The old folio impressions read: “Yet reason dares her No.” And this is right. The meaning is, the circumstances of our case are such, that she will never venture to contradict me; dares her to reply No to me, whatever I say. Warburton. Mr. Theobald reads: “&lblank; Yet reason dares her note.” Sir Thomas Hanmer: “&lblank; Yet reason dares her; No.” Mr. Upton: “&lblank; Yet reason dares her—No.” Which he explains thus: “Were it not for her maiden modesty, how might the lady proclaim my guilt? Yet (you'll say) she has reason on her side, and that will make her dare to do it. I think not; for my authority is of such weight, &c.” I am afraid dare has no such signification. I have nothing to offer worth insertion. Johnson. To dare has two significations; to terrify, as in The Maid's Tragedy: “&lblank; those mad mischiefs “Would dare a woman.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the eleventh Iliad: “&lblank; the wound did dare him sore.” In King Henry IV. Part I. it means, to challenge, or call forth: “Unless a brother should a brother dare “To gentle exercise,” &c. I would therefore read: “&lblank; Yet reason dares her not, “For my authority,” &c. Or perhaps, with only a slight transposition: “&lblank; Yet no reason dares her,” &c. The meaning will then be—“Yet reason does not challenge, call forth, or incite her to appear against me, for my authority is above the reach of her accusation.” Steevens. “&lblank; Yet reason dares her? no.” Yet does not reason challenge or incite her to accuse me?—no, (answers the speaker,) for my authority, &c. To dare, in this sense, is yet a school-phrase: Shakspeare probably learnt it there. He has again used the word in King Henry VI. Part II.: “What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?” Malone. “&lblank; Yet reason dares her No.” Dr. Warburton is evidently right with respect to this reading, though wrong in his application. The expression is a provincial one, and very intelligible: “&lblank; But that her tender shame “Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, “How might she tongue me? Yet reason dares her No.” That is, reason dares her to do it, as by this means she would not only publish her “maiden loss,” but also as she would certainly suffer from the imposing credit of his station and power, which would repel with disgrace any attack on his reputation: “For my authority bears a credent bulk, “That no particular scandal once can touch, “But it confounds the breather.” Henley. We think Mr. Henley rightly understands this passage, but has not sufficiently explained himself. Reason, or reflection, we conceive, personified by Shakspeare, and represented as daring or overawing Isabella, and crying No to her, whenever she finds herself prompted to “tongue” Angelo. Dare is often met with in this sense in Shakspeare. Beaumont and Fletcher have used the word No in a similar way in The Chances, Act III. Sc. IV.: “I wear a sword to satisfy the world no.” Again, in A Wife For A Month, Act IV.: “I'm sure he did not, for I charg'd him no.” Monthly Review.

Note return to page 378 5&lblank; my authority bears off a credent bulk, That no particular scandal, &c.] Credent is creditable, inforcing credit, not questionable. The old English writers often confound the active and passive adjectives. So Shakspeare, and Milton after him, use inexpressive for inexpressible. Particular is private, a French sense. “No scandal from any private mouth can reach a man in my authority.” Johnson. Angelo means, that his authority will ward off or set aside the weightiest and most probable charge that can be brought against him. Malone. The old copy reads—“bears of a credent bulk.” If of be any thing more than a blunder, it must mean—bears off, i. e. carries with it. As this monosyllable, however, does not improve our author's sense, and clogs his metre, I have omitted it. Steevens.

Note return to page 379 6&lblank; we would, and we would not.] Here undoubtedly the Act should end, and was ended by the poet; for here is properly a cessation of action, and a night intervenes, and the place is changed, between the passages of this scene, and those of the next. The next Act beginning with the following scene, proceeds without any interruption of time or change of place. Johnson.

Note return to page 380 7These letters &lblank;] Peter never delivers the letters, but tells his story without any credentials. The poet forgot the plot which he had formed. Johnson. The first clause of this remark is undoubtedly just; but, respecting the second, I wish our readers to recollect that all the plays of Shakspeare, before they reached the press, had passed through a dangerous medium, and probably experienced the injudicious curtailments to which too many dramatic pieces are still exposed, from the ignorance, caprice, and presumption, of transcribers, players, and managers. Steevens.

Note return to page 381 8&lblank; you do blench from this to that,] To blench is to start off, to fly off. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; if he but blench, “I know my course.” Steevens.

Note return to page 382 9He says, to veil full purpose.] Mr. Theobald alters it to— “He says, t'availful purpose.” because he has no idea of the common reading. A good reason! Yet the common reading is right. Full is used for beneficial; and the meaning is—“He says, it is to hide a beneficial purpose, that must not yet be revealed.” Warburton. To veil full purpose, may, with very little force on the words, mean, “to hide the whole extent of our design,” and therefore the reading may stand; yet I cannot but think Mr. Theobald's alteration either lucky or ingenious. To interpret words with such laxity, as to make full the same with beneficial, is to put an end, at once, to all necessity of emendation, for any word may then stand in the place of another. Johnson. I think Theobald's explanation right, but his amendment unnecessary. We need only read vailful as one word. Shakspeare, who so frequently uses cite for excite, bate for abate, force for enforce, and many other abbreviations of a similar nature, may well be supposed to use vailful for availful. M. Mason. If Dr. Johnson's explanation be right, (as I think it is,) the word should be written—veil, as it is now printed in the text. That vail was the old spelling of veil, appears from a line in The Merchant of Venice, folio, 1623: “Vailing an Indian beauty &lblank;.” for which, in the modern editions, veiling has been rightly substituted. Malone.

Note return to page 383 1Enter Friar Peter.] This play has two friars, either of whom might singly have served. I should therefore imagine, that Friar Thomas, in the first Act, might be changed, without any harm, to Friar Peter; for why should the Duke unnecessarily trust two in an affair which required only one? The name of Friar Thomas is never mentioned in the dialogue, and therefore seems arbitrarily placed at the head of the scene. Johnson.

Note return to page 384 2The generous, &c.] i. e. the most noble, &c. Generous is here used in its Latin sense. “Virgo generosa et nobilis.” Cicero. Shakspeare uses it again in Othello: “&lblank; the generous islanders “By you invited &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 385 3Have hent the gates,] Have seized or taken possession of the gates. Johnson. So, in Sir A. Gorges' translation of the 4th Book of Lucan: “&lblank; did prevent “His foes, ere they the hills had hent.” Again, in T. Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “Lament thee, Roman land, “The king is from thee hent.” Again, in the black-letter romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “But with the childe homeward gan ryde “That fro the gryffon was hent.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Guy of Warwick, bl. l. no date: “Some by the arms hent good Guy,” &c. Again: “And some by the bridle him hent.” Spenser often uses the word hend for to seize or take, and overhend for to overtake. Steevens. “Hent, henten, hende,” (says Junius, in his Etymologicon,) “Chaucero est, capere, assequi, prehendere, arripere, ab A. S. hendan.” Malone.

Note return to page 386 4&lblank; Vail your regard &lblank;] That is, withdraw your thoughts from higher things, let your notice descend upon a wronged woman. To vail is to lower. Johnson. This is one of the few expressions which might have been borrowed from the old play of Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “&lblank; vail thou thine ears.” So, in Stanyhurst's translation of the 4th book of Virgil's Æneid: &lblank; Phrygio liceat servire marito. “Let Dido vail her heart to bed-fellow Trojan.” Steevens. Thus also, in Hamlet: “Do not for ever, with thy vailed lids, “Seek for thy noble father in the dust.” Henley.

Note return to page 387 5&lblank; truth is truth To the end of reckoning.] That is, truth has no gradations; nothing which admits of increase can be so much what it is, as truth is truth. There may be a strange thing, and a thing more strange, but if a proposition be true, there can be none more true. Johnson.

Note return to page 388 6&lblank; as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,] As shy; as reserved, as abstracted: as just; as nice, as exact: as absolute; as complete in all the round of duty. Johnson.

Note return to page 389 7In all his dressings, &c.] In all his semblance of virtue, in all his habiliments of office. Johnson.

Note return to page 390 8&lblank; characts,] i. e. characters. See Dugdale, Orig. Jurid. p. 81: “That he use ne hide, no charme, ne carecte.” Tyrwhitt. So, in Gower, De Confessione Amantis, b. i.: “With his carrecte would him enchaunt.” Again, b. v. folio 103: “And read his carecte in the wise.” Again, b. vi. fol. 140: “Through his carectes and figures.” Again: “And his carecte as he was taught, “He rad,” &c. Steevens. Charact signifies an inscription. The stat. 1 Edward VI. c. 2, directed the seals of office of every bishop to have “certain characts under the king's arms, for the knowledge of the diocese.” Characters are the letters in which the inscription is written. Charactery is the materials of which characters are composed. “Fairies use flowers for their charactery.” Merry Wives of Windsor. Blackstone.

Note return to page 391 9As e'er I heard, &c.] I suppose Shakspeare wrote: “As ne'er I heard in madness.” Malone.

Note return to page 392 1&lblank; do not banish reason For inequality:] Let not the high quality of my adversary prejudice you against me. Johnson. Inequality appears to me to mean, in this place, apparent inconsistency; and to have no reference to the high rank of Angelo, as Johnson supposes. M. Mason. I imagine the meaning rather is—Do not suppose I am mad, because I speak passionately and unequally. Malone.

Note return to page 393 2And hide the false, seems true.] And for ever hide, i. e. plunge into eternal darkness, the false one, i. e. Angelo, who now seems honest. Many other words would have expressed our poet's meaning better than hide; but he seems to have chosen it merely for the sake of opposition to the preceding line. Mr. Theobald unnecessarily reads—Not hide the false,—which has been followed by the subsequent editors. Malone. I do not profess to understand these words; nor can I perceive how the meaning suggested by Mr. Malone is to be deduced from them. Steevens. I agree with Theobald in reading— “Not hide the false seems true” which requires no explanation, I cannot conceive how the word— hide, can mean to “plunge into eternal darkness,” as Mr. Malone supposes. M. Mason. I would read—And hid, the false seems true, i. e. the truth being hid, not discovered or made known, what is false seems true. Phelps.

Note return to page 394 2The phrase is to the matter.] Suited to the matter; as in Hamlet, “the phrase would be more german to the matter.” Malone.

Note return to page 395 3How he refell'd me,] To refel is to refute. Refellere et coarguere mendacium. Cicero pro Ligaro. Ben Jonson uses the word: “Friends not to refel you, “Or any way quell you.” Again, in The Second Part of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “Therefore go on, young Bruce, proceed, refell “The allegation.” Again, in Chapman's version of the ninth Iliad: “&lblank; as thou then didst refell “My valour,” &c. The modern editors changed the word to repel. Steevens.

Note return to page 396 4To his concupiscible, &c.] Such is the old reading. The modern editors unauthoritatively substitute concupiscent. Steevens.

Note return to page 397 5My sisterly remorse &lblank;] i. e. pity. So, in King Richard III.: “And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 398 6His purpose surfeiting,] Thus the old copy. We might read forfeiting, but the former word is too much in the manner of Shakspeare to be rejected. So, in Othello: “&lblank; my hopes not surfeited to death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 399 7O, that it were as like, as it is true!] Like is not here used for probable, but for seemly. She catches at the Duke's word, and turns it into another sense; of which there are a great many examples in Shakspeare, and the writers of that time. Warburton. I do not see why like may not stand here for probable, or why the lady should not wish, that since her tale is true, it may obtain belief. If Dr. Warburton's explication be right, we should read: “O! that it were as likely, as 'tis true!” Likely I have never found for seemly. Johnson. Though I concur in Dr. Johnson's explanation, I cannot help observing, that likely is used by Shakspeare himself for seemly. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act III. Sc. II.: “Sir John, they are your likeliest men.” Steevens. The meaning, I think, is: ‘O that it had as much of the likeness, or appearance, as it has of the reality, of truth!’ Malone.

Note return to page 400 8&lblank; fond wretch.] Fond wretch is foolish wretch. So, in Coriolanus, Act IV. Sc. I.: “'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 401 9In hateful practice:] Practice was used by the old writers for any unlawful or insidious stratagem. So again: “This must needs be practice.” And again: “Let me have way to find this practice out.” Johnson.

Note return to page 402 1In countenance!] i. e. in partial favour. Warburton. Countenance, in my opinion, does not mean partial favour, as Warburton supposes, but false appearance, hypocrisy. Isabella does not mean to accuse the Duke of partiality; but alludes to the sanctified demeanour of Angelo, which, as she supposes, prevented the Duke from believing her story. M. Mason.

Note return to page 403 2&lblank; practice.] Practice, in Shakspeare, very often means shameful artifice, unjustifiable stratagem. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; This is practice, Gloster.” Again, in King John: “It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand, “The practice and the purpose of the king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 3&lblank; nor a temporary medler,] It is hard to know what is meant by a temporary medler. In its usual sense, as opposed to perpetual, it cannot be used here. It may stand for temporal: the sense will then be, “I know him for a holy man, one that meddles not with secular affairs.” It may mean temporising: “I know him to be a holy man, one who would not temporise, or take the opportunity of your absence to defame you.” Or we may read: “Not scurvy, nor a tamperer and medler:” not one who would have tampered with this woman to make her a false evidence against your deputy. Johnson. Peter here refers to what Lucio had before affirmed concerning Friar Lodowick. Hence it is evident that the phrase temporary medler, was intended to signify one who introduced himself, as often as he could find opportunity, into other men's concerns. See the context. Henley.

Note return to page 405 4&lblank; his mere request,] i. e. his absolute request. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Some mere friends, some honourable Romans.” Again, in Othello: “The mere perdition of the Turkish fleet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 406 5Whensoever he's convented.] The first folio reads convented, and this is right: for to convene signifies to assemble; but convent, to cite, or summons. Yet because convented hurts the measure, the Oxford editor sticks to conven'd, though it be nonsense, and signifies, “Whenever he is assembled together.” But thus it will be, when the author is thinking of one thing, and his critic of another. The poet was attentive to his sense, and the editor, quite throughout his performance, to nothing but the measure; which Shakspeare having entirely neglected, like all the dramatic writers of that age, he has spruced him up with all the exactness of a modern measurer of syllables. This being here taken notice of once for all, shall, for the future, be forgot, as if it had never been. Warburton. The foregoing account of the measure of Shakspeare, and his contemporaries, ought indeed to be forgotten, because it is untrue. To convent is no uncommon word. So, in Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; lest my looks “Should tell the company convented there,” &c. To convent and to convene are derived from the same Latin verb, and have exactly the same meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 407 6So vulgarly &lblank;] Meaning either so grossly, with such indecency of invective, or by so mean and inadequate witnesses. Johnson. Vulgarly, I believe, means publickly. The vulgar are the common people. Daniel uses vulgarly for among the common people: “&lblank; and which pleases vulgarly.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's interpretation is certainly the true one. So, in The Comedy of Errors, Act III. Sc. I.: “A vulgar comment will be made of it; “And that supposed by the common rout,— “That may,” &c. Again, in Twelfth-Night: “&lblank; for 'tis a vulgar proof “That very oft we pity enemies.” Malone.

Note return to page 408 7&lblank; Come, cousin Angelo; In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause.] Surely, says Mr. Theobald, this Duke had odd notions of impartiality! He reads therefore—I will be partial, and all the editors follow him: even Mr. Heath declares the observation unanswerable. But see the uncertainty of criticism! impartial was sometimes used in the sense of partial. In the old play of Swetnam, the Woman Hater, Atlanta cries out, when the judges decree against the women: “You are impartial, and we do appeal “From you to judges more indifferent.” Farmer. So, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 2d Part, 1602: “There's not a beauty lives, “Hath that impartial predominance “O'er my affects, as your enchanting graces.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet, 1597: “Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies!” Again: “&lblank; this day, this unjust, impartial day.” In the language of our author's time, im was frequently used as an augmentative or intensive particle. Malone.

Note return to page 409 8&lblank; her face;] The original copy reads—your face. The emendation was made by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 410 9Neither maid, widow, nor wife?] This is a proverbial phrase, to be found in Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 411 1This is a strange abuse:] Abuse stands in this place for deception or puzzle. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; my strange and self abuse,” means, “this strange deception of myself.” Johnson.

Note return to page 412 2And did supply thee at thy garden-house,] A garden-house in the time of our author was usually appropriated to purposes of intrigue. So, in Skialethia, or A Shadow of Truth, in certain Epigrams and Satyres, 1598: “Who, coming from the Curtain, sneaketh in “To some old garden noted house for sin.” Again, in The London Prodigal, a comedy, 1605: “Sweet lady, if you have any friend, or garden-house, where you may employ a poor gentleman as your friend, I am yours to command in all secret service.” Malone. See also an extract from Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, 4to. 1597, p. 57; quoted in vol. v. of Dodsley's Old Plays, edit. 1780, p. 74. Reed.

Note return to page 413 3&lblank; her promised proportions Came short of composition;] Her fortune, which was promised proportionate to mine, fell short of the composition, that is, contract or bargain. Johnson.

Note return to page 414 4These poor informal women &lblank;] Informal signifies out of their senses. In The Comedy of Errors, we meet with these lines: “&lblank; I will not let him stir, “Till I have used the approved means I have, “With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, “To make of him a formal man again.” Formal, in this passage, evidently signifies in his senses. The lines are spoken of Antipholis of Syracuse, who is behaving like a madman. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes, “Not like a formal man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 5Though they would swear down each particular saint,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act I. Sc. III.: “Though you in swearing shake the throned gods.” Steevens.

Note return to page 416 6That's seal'd in approbation?] When any thing subject to counterfeits is tried by the proper officers and approved, a stamp or seal is put upon it, as among us on plate, weights, and measures. So the Duke says, that Angelo's faith has been tried, approved, and seal'd in testimony of that approbation, and, like other things so sealed, is no more to be called in question. Johnson.

Note return to page 417 7&lblank; to hear this matter forth,] To hear it to the end; to search it to the bottom. Johnson.

Note return to page 418 8&lblank; are light at midnight.] This is one of the words on which Shakspeare chiefly delights to quibble. Thus, Portia, in The Merchant of Venice, Act V. Sc. I.: “Let me give light, but let me not be light.” Steevens.

Note return to page 419 9Respect to your great place! and let the devil, &c.] I suspect that a line preceding this has been lost. Malone. I suspect no omission. Great place has reference to the preceding question—“know you where you are?” Shakspeare was a reader of Philemon Holland's translation of Pliny; and in the fifth book and eighth chapter, might have met with his next idea: “The Augylæ do no worship to any but to the devils beneath.” Tyrants, in our ancient romances, have frequently the same object of adoration. Thus, in The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 60: “Then came the bishop Cramadas, “And kneled bifore the Sowdon, “And charged him by the hye name Sathanas, “To saven his goddes ychon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 1&lblank; to retort your manifest appeal,] To refer back to Angelo the cause in which you appealed from Angelo to the Duke. Johnson.

Note return to page 421 2&lblank; this purpose:] The old copy has—his purpose. The emendation was made by Sir T. Hanmer. I believe the passage has been corrected in the wrong place; and would read: “&lblank; We'll touze him joint by joint “But we will know his purpose.” Malone. I see no necessity for altering the old reading. Escalus says to the supposed Friar, “We'll touze you joint by joint,” and addresses the close of the sentence not to him, but the by-standers. Boswell.

Note return to page 422 3Nor here provincial:] Nor here accountable. The meaning seems to be, I am not one of his natural subjects, nor of any dependent province. Johnson. The different orders of monks have a chief, who is called the General of the order; and they have also superiors, subordinate to the general, in the several provinces through which the order may be dispersed. The Friar therefore means to say, that the Duke dares not touch a finger of his, for he could not punish him by his own authority, as he was not his subject, nor through that of the superior, as he was not of that province. M. Mason.

Note return to page 423 4&lblank; boil and bubble, Till it o'er-run the stew:] I fear that, in the present instance, our author's metaphor is from the kitchen. So, in Macbeth: “Like a hell-broth, boil and bubble.” Steevens.

Note return to page 424 5Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,] Barbers' shops were, at all times, the resort of idle people: Tonstrina erat quædam; hic solebamus ferè Plerumque eam opperiri &lblank;. which Donatus calls apta sedes otiosis. Formerly with us, the better sort of people went to the barber's shop to be trimmed: who then practised the under parts of surgery: so that he had occasion for numerous instruments, which lay there ready for use; and the idle people, with whom his shop was generally crouded, would be perpetually handling and misusing them. To remedy which, I suppose there was placed up against the wall a table of forfeitures, adapted to every offence of this kind; which, it is not likely, would long preserve its authority. Warburton. This explanation may serve till a better is discovered. But whoever has seen the instruments of a chirurgeon, knows that they may be very easily kept out of improper hands in a very small box, or in his pocket. Johnson. It was formerly part of a barber's occupation to pick the teeth and ears. So, in the old play of Herod and Antipater, 1622, Tryphon the barber enters with a case of instruments, to each of which he addresses himself separately: “Toothpick, dear toothpick; earpick, both of you “Have been her sweet companions!”—&c. I have conversed with several people who had repeatedly read the list of forfeits alluded to by Shakspeare, but have failed in my endeavours to procure a copy of it. The metrical one, published by the late Dr. Kenrick, was a forgery. Steevens. I believe Dr. Warburton's explanation in the main to be right, only that instead of chirurgical instruments, the barber's prohibited implements were principally his razors; his whole stock of which, from the number and impatience of his customers on a Saturday night or a market morning, being necessarily laid out for use, were exposed to the idle fingers of the bye-standers, in waiting for succession to the chair. These forfeits were as much in mock as mark, both because the barber had no authority of himself to enforce them, and also as they were of a ludicrous nature. I perfectly remember to have seen them in Devonshire, (printed like King Charles's Rules,) though I cannot recollect the contents. Henley.

Note return to page 425 6;&lblank; and a coward,] So again, afterwards: “You, sirrah, that know me for a fool, a coward, “One all of luxury &lblank;.” But Lucio had not, in the former conversation, mentioned cowardice among the faults of the Duke. Such failures of memory are incident to writers more diligent than this poet. Johnson.

Note return to page 426 7&lblank; those giglots too,] A giglot is a wanton wench. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “&lblank; young Talbot was not born “To be the pillage of a giglot wench.” Steevens.

Note return to page 427 8&lblank; show your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd an hour! Will't not off?] This is intended to be the common language of vulgar indignation. Our phrase on such occasions is simply: “show your sheep-biting face and be hanged.” The words an hour have no particular use here, nor are authorised by custom. I suppose it was written thus: “show your sheep-biting face and be hanged—an how? will't not off?” In the midland counties, upon any unexpected obstruction or resistance, it is common to exclaim an' how? Johnson. Dr. Johnson's alteration is wrong. In The Alchemist we meet with “a man that has been strangled an hour.” “What, Piper, ho! be hang'd a-while,” is a line of an old madrigal. Farmer. A similar expression is found in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, 1614: “Leave the bottle behind you, and be curst a-while.” Malone. Dr. Johnson is much too positive in asserting “that the words an hour have no particular use here, nor are authorised by custom,” as Dr. Farmer has well proved. The poet evidently refers to the ancient mode of punishing by collistrigium, or the original pillory, made like that part of the pillory at present which receives the neck, only it was placed horizontally, so that the culprit hung suspended in it by his chin, and the back of his head. A distinct account of it may be found, if I mistake not, in Mr. Barrington's Observations on the Statutes. Henley. There is indeed a distinct account of the collistrigium in Barrington's Observations on the Statutes, but it gives no support whatever to Mr. Henley's explanation. Mr. Gifford, in a note on the passage quoted from Bartholomew Fair, has satisfactorily shown that an hour is merely a vulgar expletive, and that be hanged an hour means no more than be hanged. Boswell.

Note return to page 428 9&lblank; can do thee office?] i. e. do thee service. Steevens.

Note return to page 429 1&lblank; my passes:] i. e. what has past in my administration. “Not so; (says the Edinburgh Magazine, Nov. 1786,) Passes means here artful devices, deceitful contrivances. Tours de passe-passe, in French, are tricks of jugglery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 430 2&lblank; which consummate,] i. e. which being consummated. Malone.

Note return to page 431 3Advértising, and holy &lblank;] Attentive and faithful. Johnson.

Note return to page 432 4&lblank; be you as free to us.] Be as generous to us; pardon us as we have pardoned you. Johnson.

Note return to page 433 5Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power,] That is, a premature discovery of it. M. Mason. As I am not aware of remonstrance being ever used in this sense, I would read demonstrance, i. e. demonstration. Malone.

Note return to page 434 6That brain'd my purpose:] We now use in conversation a like phrase: “This it was that knocked my design on the head.” Dr. Warburton reads: “&lblank; baned my purpose.” Johnson.

Note return to page 435 7&lblank; and of promise-breach,] Our author ought to have written—“in double violation of sacred chastity, and of promise,” instead of—promise-breach. Sir T. Hanmer reads—and in promise-breach; but change is certainly here improper, Shakspeare having many similar inaccuracies. Double indeed may refer to Angelo's conduct to Mariana and Isabel; yet still some difficulty will remain: for then he will be said to be “criminal [instead of guilty] of promise-breach.” Malone.

Note return to page 436 8&lblank; even from his proper tongue,] Even from Angelo's own tongue. So, above: “In the witness of his proper ear “To call him villain.” Johnson.

Note return to page 437 9&lblank; Measure still for Measure.] So, in The Third Part of King Henry VI.: “Measure for Measure must be answered.” Steevens. Shakspeare might have remembered these lines in A Warning for Faire Women, a tragedy, 1599 (but apparently written some years before): “The trial now remains, as shall conclude “Measure for Measure, and lost blood for blood.” Malone.

Note return to page 438 1&lblank; denies thee vantage:] Takes from thee all opportunity, all expedient of denial. Warburton. “Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage:” The denial of which will avail thee nothing. So, in The Winter's Tale: “Which to deny, concerns more than avails.” Malone.

Note return to page 439 2Although by confiscation they are ours,] This reading was furnished by the editor of the second folio. The original copy has confutation, which may be right: by his being confuted, or proved guilty of the fact which he had denied. This, however, being rather harsh, I have followed all the modern editors in adopting the emendation that has been made. Malone. I cannot think it even possible that confutation should be the true reading. But the value of the second folio, it seems, must on all occasions be disputed. Steevens.

Note return to page 440 3Against all sense you do impórtune her:] The meaning required is, against all reason aud natural affection. Shakspeare, therefore, judiciously uses a single word that implies both: sense signifying both reason and affection. Johnson. The same expression occurs in The Tempest, Act II.: “You cram these words into my ears, against “The stomach of my sense.” Steevens.

Note return to page 441 4Till he did look on me;] The Duke has justly observed, that Isabel is importuned against all sense to solicit for Angelo, yet here against all sense she solicits for him. Her argument is extraordinary: “A due sincerity govern'd his deeds “Till he did look on me: since it is so, “Let him not die.” That Angelo had committed all the crimes charged against him, as far as he could commit them, is evident. The only intent which his act did not overtake, was the defilement of Isabel. Of this Angelo was only intentionally guilty. Angelo's crimes were such as must sufficiently justify punishment, whether its end be to secure the innocent from wrong, or to deter guilt by example; and I believe every reader feels some indignation when he finds him spared. From what extenuation of his crime can Isabel, who yet supposes her brother dead, form any plea in his favour? “Since he was good till he looked on me, let him not die.” I am afraid our varlet poet intended to inculcate, that women think ill of nothing that raises the credit of their beauty, and are ready, however virtuous, to pardon any act which they think incited by their own charms. Johnson. It is evident that Isabella condescends to Mariana's importunate solicitation with great reluctance. Bad as her argument might be, it is the best that the guilt of Angelo would admit. The sacrifice that she makes of her revenge to her friendship scarcely merits to be considered in so harsh a light. Ritson.

Note return to page 442 5His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;] So, in Macbeth: “The flightly purpose never is o'ertook, “Unless the deed go with it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 443 6&lblank; buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way:] i. e. like the traveller, who dies on his journey, is obscurely interred, and thought of no more: Illum expirantem &lblank; Obliti ignoto camporum in pulvere linquunt. Steevens.

Note return to page 444 7&lblank; after more advice:] i. e. after more mature consideration. So, in Titus Andronicus: “The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax.” Steevens.

Note return to page 445 8&lblank; for those earthly faults.] Thy faults, so far as they are punishable on earth, so far as they are cognisable by temporal power, I forgive. Johnson.

Note return to page 446 9&lblank; perceives he's safe:] It is somewhat strange that Isabel is not made to express either gratitude, wonder, or joy, at the sight of her brother. Johnson. Shakspeare, it should be recollected, wrote for the stage, on which Isabel might express her feelings by action. Boswell.

Note return to page 447 1&lblank; your evil quits you well:] Quits you, recompenses, requites you. Johnson.

Note return to page 448 2Look that you love your wife;] So, in Promos, &c.: “Be loving to good Cassandra, thy wife.” Steevens.

Note return to page 449 3&lblank; her worth, worth yours.] Sir T. Hanmer reads— “Her worth works yours.” This reading is adopted by Dr. Warburton; but for what reason? How does her worth work Angelo's worth? it has only contributed to work his pardon. The words are, as they are too frequently, an affected gingle; but the sense is plain. “Her worth, worth yours;” that is, her value is equal to your value, the match is not unworthy of you. Johnson.

Note return to page 450 4&lblank; here's one in place I cannot pardon;] The Duke only means to frighten Lucio, whose final sentence is to marry the woman whom he had wronged, on which all his other punishments are remitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 451 5One all of luxury,] Luxury means incontinence. So, in King Lear: “To't, luxury, pellmell, for I lack soldiers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 452 6&lblank; according to the trick:] To my custom, my habitual practice. Johnson. Lucio does not say my trick, but the trick; nor does he mean to excuse himself by saying that he spoke according to his usual practice, for that would be an aggravation to his guilt, but according to the trick and practice of the times. It was probably then the practice, as it is at this day, for the dissipated and profligate, to ridicule and slander persons in high station, or of superior virtue. M. Mason. According to the trick, is, according to the fashion of thoughtless youth. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “&lblank; yet I have a trick of the old rage.” Again, in a collection of Epigrams, entitled Wit's Bedlam, printed about the year 1615: “Carnus calls lechery a trick of youth; “So he grows old; but this trick hurts his growth.” Malone.

Note return to page 453 7&lblank; thy other forfeits:] Thy other punishments. Johnson. To forfeit anciently signified to commit a carnal offence. So, in The History of Helyas, Knight of the Swanne, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; to affirme by an untrue knight, that the noble queen Beatrice had forfayted with a dogge.” Again, in the 12th Pageant of the Coventry Collection of Mysteries, the Virgin Mary tells Joseph: “I dede nevyr forfete with man I wys.” MS. Cott. Vesp. D. viii. Steevens.

Note return to page 454 8Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:] I have always thought that there is great confusion in this concluding speech. If my criticism would not be censured as too licentious, I should regulate it thus: “Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness. “Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy; “We shall employ thee in a worthier place. “Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home “The head of Ragozine for Claudio's. “Ang. The offence pardons itself. “Duke. There's more behind “That is more gratulate. Dear Isabel, “I have a motion,” &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 455 9&lblank; that is more gratulate.] i. e. to be more rejoiced in; meaning, I suppose, that there is another world, where he will find yet greater reason to rejoice in consequence of his upright ministry. Escalus is represented as an ancient nobleman, who, in conjunction with Angelo, had reached the highest office of the state. He therefore could not be sufficiently rewarded here; but is necessarily referred to a future and more exalted recompense. Steevens. I cannot approve of Steevens's explanation of this passage, which is very far-fetched indeed. The Duke gives Escalus thanks for his much goodness, but tells him that he had some other reward in store for him, more acceptable than thanks; which agrees with what he said before, in the beginning of this Act: “&lblank; we hear “Such goodness of your justice, that our soul “Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, “Fore-running more requital.” M. Mason. Heywood also, in his Apology for Actors, 1612, uses to gratulate, in the sense of to reward: “I could not chuse but gratulate your honest endeavours with this remembrance.” Malone. Mr. M. Mason's explanation may be right; but he forgets that the speech he brings in support of it, was delivered before the denouement of the scene, and was, at that moment, as much addressed to Angelo as to Escalus; and for Angelo the Duke had certainly no reward or honours, in store.—Besides, I cannot but regard the word—requital, as an interpolation, because it destroys the measure, without improvement of the sense. “Fore-running more,” therefore, would only signify—preceding further thanks. Steevens.

Note return to page 456 1I cannot help taking notice with how much judgment Shakspeare has given turns to this story from what he found it in Giraldi Cinthio's novel. In the first place, the brother is there actually executed, and the governor sends his head in a bravado to the sister, after he had debauched her on promise of marriage: a circumstance of too much horror and villainy for the stage. And, in the next place, the sister afterwards is, to solder up her disgrace, married to the governor, and begs his life of the emperor, though he had unjustly been the death of her brother. Both which absurdities the poet has avoided by the episode of Mariana, a creature purely of his own invention. The Duke's remaining incognito, at home, to supervise the conduct of his deputy, is also entirely our author's fiction. This story was attempted for the scene before our author was fourteen years old, by one George Whetstone, in Two Comical Discourses, as they are called, containing the right excellent and famous history of Promos and Cassandra, printed with the black letter, 1578. The author going that year with Sir Humphrey Gilbert to Norimbega, left them with his friends to publish. Theobald. The novel of Giraldi Cinthio, from which Shakspeare is supposed to have borrowed this fable, may be read in Shakspeare Illustrated, elegantly translated, with remarks which will assist the enquirer to discover how much absurdity Shakspeare has admitted or avoided. I cannot but suspect that some other had new-modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a story which in some particulars resembled it, and that Cinthio was not the author whom Shakspeare immediately followed. The Emperor in Cinthio is named Maximine; the Duke, in Shakspeare's enumeration of the persons of the drama, is called Vincentio. This appears a very slight remark; but since the Duke has no name in the play, nor is ever mentioned but by his title, why should he be called Vincentio among the persons, but because the name was copied from the story, and placed superfluously at the head of the list by the mere habit of transcription? It is therefore likely that there was then a story of Vincentio Duke of Vienna, different from that of Maximine Emperor of the Romans. Of this play, the light or comick part is very natural and pleasing, but the grave scenes, if a few passages be excepted, have more labour than elegance. The plot is rather intricate than artful. The time of the action is indefinite; some time, we know not how much, must have elapsed between the recess of the Duke and the imprisonment of Claudio; for he must have learned the story of Mariana in his disguise, or he delegated his power to a man already known to be corrupted. The unities of action and place are sufficiently preserved. Johnson. The Duke probably had learnt the story of Mariana in some of his former retirements, “having ever loved the life removed.” (Page 28.) “And he had a suspicion that Angelo was but a seemer, (page 32) and therefore he stays to watch him.” Blackstone. The Fable of Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578. “The Argument of the whole History.” “In the cyttie of Julio, (sometimes under the dominion of Corvinus kynge of Hungarie and Bohemia,) there was a law, that what man so ever committed adultery should lose his head, and the woman offender should weare some disguised apparel, during her life, to make her infamously noted. This severe lawe, by the favour of some mercifull magistrate, became little regarded, untill the time of lord Promos' auctority; who convicting a young gentleman named Andrugio of incontinency, condemned both him and his minion to the execution of this statute. Andrugio had a very virtuous and beautiful gentlewoman to his sister, named Cassandra: Cassandra, to enlarge her brother's life, submitted an humble petition to the lord Promos: Promos regarding her good behaviours, and fantasying her great beawtie, was much delighted with the sweete order of her talke; and doyng good, that evill might come thereof, for a time he repryved her brother: but wicked man, tourning his liking into unlawfull lust, he set downe the spoile of her honour, raunsome for her brother's life: chaste Cassandra, abhorring both him and his sute, by no persuasion would yeald to this raunsome. But in fine, wonne by the importunitye of hir brother, (pleading for life,) upon these conditions she agreed to Promos. First, that he should pardon her brother, and after marry her. Promos, as feareles in promisse, as carelesse in performance, with sollemne vowe sygned her condition; but worse then any infydell, his will satissfyed, he performed neither the one nor the other: for to keepe his auctoritye unspotted with favour, and to prevent Cassandra's clamors, he commaunded the gayler secretly, to present Cassandra with her brother's head. The gayler [touched] with the outcryes of Andrugio, (abhorryng Promos' lewdenes,) by the providence of God provided thus for his safety. He presented Cassandra with a felon's head newlie executed; who knew it not, being mangled, from her brother's, (who was set at libertie by the gayler). [She] was so agreeved at this trecherye, that, at the point to kyl her self, she spared that stroke, to be avenged of Promos: and devysing a way, she concluded, to make her fortunes knowne unto the kinge. She, executing this resolution, was so highly favoured of the king, that forthwith he hasted to do justice on Promos: whose judgment was, to marry Cassandra, to repaire her crased honour; which donne, for his hainous offence, he should lose his head. This maryage solempnised, Cassandra tyed in the greatest bondes of affection to her husband, became an earnest suter for his life: the kinge, tendringe the generall benefit of the c&obar;mon weale before her special case, although he favoured her much, would not graunt her sute. Andrugio (disguised amonge the company) sorrowing the griefe of his sister, bewrayde his safety, and craved pardon. The kinge, to renowne the vertues of Cassandra, pardoned both him and Promos. The circumstances of this rare historye, in action livelye followeth.” Whetstone, however, has not afforded a very correct analysis of his play, which contains a mixture of comick scenes, between a Bawd, a Pimp, Felons, &c. together with some serious situations which are not described. Steevens. One paragraph of the foregoing narrative being strangely confused in the old copy, by some carelessness of the printer, I have endeavoured to rectify it, by transposing a few words, and adding two others, which are included within crotchets. Malone.

Note return to page 457 1Though the rank which Montano held in Cyprus cannot be exactly ascertained, yet from many circumstances, we are sure he had not the powers with which Othello was subsequently invested. Perhaps we do not receive any one of the Personæ Dramatis to Shakspeare's plays, as it was originally drawn up by himself. These appendages are wanting to all the quartos, and are very rarely given in the folio. At the end of this play, however, the following enumeration of persons occurs: “The names of the actors.—Othello, the Moore.—Brabantio, Father to Desdemona.—Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant.—Iago, a Villaine.—Rodorigo, a gull'd Gentleman.—Duke of Venice.— Senators.—Montano, Governor of Cyprus.—Gentlemen of Cyprus. —Lodovico, and Gratiano, two noble Venetians.—Saylors.— Clowne.—Desdemona, Wife to Othello.—Æmilia, Wife to Iago. —Bianca, a Curtezan.” Steevens.

Note return to page 458 2Tush, never tell me,] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio omits the interjection—Tush. Steevens.

Note return to page 459 3'Sblood, but you will not, &c.] Thus the quarto: the folio suppresses this oath. Steevens.

Note return to page 460 4Oft capp'd to him;] Thus the quarto, The folio reads,— Off-capp'd to him. Steevens. In support of the folio, Antony and Cleopatra may be quoted: “I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.” This reading I once thought to be the true one. But a more intimate knowledge of the quarto copies has convinced me that they ought not without very strong reason to be departed from. Malone. To cap is to salute by taking off the cap. It is still an academick phrase. M. Mason.

Note return to page 461 5&lblank; a bombast circumstance,] Circumstance signifies circumlocution. So, in Greene's Tu Quoque: “You put us to a needless labour, sir, “To run and wind about for circumstance, “When the plain word, I thank you, would have serv'd.” Again, in Massinger's Picture: “And therefore, without circumstance, to the point, “Instruct me what I am.” Again, in Knolles's History of The Turks, p. 576: “&lblank; wherefore I will not use many words to persuade you to continue in your fidelity and loyalty; neither long circumstance to encourage you to play the men.” Reed.

Note return to page 462 *First folio omits these three words.

Note return to page 463 6&lblank; certes,] i. e. certainly, in truth. Obsolete, So, Spenser, in The Fairy Queen, book iv. c. ix.: “Certes, her losse ought me to sorrow most.” Steevens.

Note return to page 464 7Forsooth, a great arithmetician,] So, in Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio says: “&lblank; one that fights by the book of arithmetick.” Steevens. Iago, however, means to represent Cassio, not as a person whose arithmetick was “one, two, and the third in your bosom,” but as a man merely conversant with civil matters, and who knew no more of a squadron than the number of men it contained. So afterwards he calls him this counter-caster. Malone.

Note return to page 465 8&lblank; a Florentine,] It appears from many passages of this play (rightly understood) that Cassio was a Florentine, and Iago a Venetian. Hanmer.

Note return to page 466 †Quarto, dambd.

Note return to page 467 9A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;] Sir Thomas Hanmer supposed that the text must be corrupt, because it appears from a following part of the play that Cassio was an unmarried man. Mr. Steevens has clearly explained the words in a subsequent note: I have therefore no doubt that the text is right; and have not thought it necessary to insert Mr. Tyrwhitt's note, in which he proposed to read—“a fellow almost damn'd in a fair life.” Shakspeare, he conceived, might allude to the judgment denounced in the gospel against those “of whom all men speak well.” Malone. Mr. Tyrwhitt's conjecture is ingenious, but cannot be right; for the malicious Iago would never have given Cassio the highest commendation that words can convey, at the very time that he wishes to depreciate him to Roderigo; though afterwards, in speaking to himself, [Act V. Sc. I.] he gives him his just character. M. Mason. That Cassio was married is not sufficiently implied in the words, “a fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife,” since they mean, according to Iago's licentious manner of expressing himself, no more than a man “very near being married.” This seems to have been the case in respect of Cassio.—Act IV. Sc. I., Iago speaking to him of Bianca, says,—“Why, the cry goes, that you shall marry her.” Cassio acknowledges that such a report had been raised, and adds, “This is the monkey's own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and self flattery, not out of my promise.” Iago then, having heard this report before, very naturally circulates it in his present conversation with Roderigo. If Shakspeare, however, designed Bianca for a courtezan of Cyprus, (where Cassio had not yet been, and had therefore never seen her,) Iago cannot be supposed to allude to the report concerning his marriage with her, and consequently this part of my argument must fall to the ground. Had Shakspeare, consistently with Iago's character, meant to make him say that Cassio was “actually damn'd in being married to a handsome woman,” he would have made him say it outright, and not have interposed the palliative almost. Whereas what he says at present amounts to no more than that (however near his marriage) he is not yet completely damned, because he is not absolutely married. The succeeding parts of Iago's conversation sufficiently evince, that the poet thought no mode of conception or expression too brutal for the character. Steevens. There is no ground whatsoever for supposing that Shakspeare designed Bianca for a courtezan of Cyprus. Cassio, who was a Florentine, and Othello's lieutenant, sailed from Venice in a ship belonging to Verona, at the same time with the Moor; and what difficulty is there in supposing that Bianca, who, Cassio himself informs us, “haunted him every where,” took her passage in the same vessel with him; or followed him afterwards? Othello,we may suppose, with some of the Venetian troops, sailed in another vessel; and Desdemona and Iago embarked in a third. Iago, after he has been at Cyprus but one day, speaks of Bianca, (Act IV. Sc. I.) as one whom he had long known: he must therefore (if the poet be there correct) have known her at Venice: “Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, “A huswife, that, by selling her desires, “Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature, “That dotes on Cassio;—as 'tis the strumpet's plague, “To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one.” Malone. Ingenious as Mr. Tyrwhitt's conjecture may appear, it but ill accords with the context. Iago is enumerating the disqualifications of Cassio for his new appointment; but surely his being well spoken of by all men could not be one of them. It is evident from what follows that a report had prevailed at Venice of Cassio's being soon to be married “to the most fair Bianca.” Now as she was in Shakspeare's language “a customer,” it was with a view to such a connection that Iago called the new Lieutenant a fellow almost damned. It may be gathered from various circumstances that an intercourse between Cassio and Bianca had existed before they left Venice; for Bianca is not only well known to Iago at Cyprus, but she upbraids Cassio (Act III. Sc. IV.) with having been absent a week from her, when he had not been two days on the island. Hence, and from what Cassio himself relates, (Act IV. Sc. I.) “I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble; by this hand, she falls thus about my neck;”—it may be presumed she had secretly followed him to Cyprus: a conclusion not only necessary to explain the passage in question, but to preserve the consistency of the fable at large.—The sea-bank on which Cassio was conversing with certain Venetians, was at Venice; for he had never till the day before been at Cyprus: he specifies those with whom he conversed as Venetians, because he was himself a Florentine; and he mentions the behaviour of Bianca in their presence, as tending to corroborate the reports he had spread that he was soon to marry her. Henley. I think, as I have already mentioned, that Bianca was a Venetian courtezan: but the sea-bank of which Cassio speaks, may have been the shore of Cyprus. In several other instances beside this, our poet appears not to have recollected that the persons of his play had only been one day at Cyprus. I am aware, however, that this circumstance may be urged with equal force against the concluding part of my own preceding note; and the term sea-bank certainly adds support to what Mr. Henley has suggested, being the very term used by Lewkenor, in his account of the Lito maggior of Venice. See p. 236, n. 8. Malone. Thus far our commentaries on this obscure passage are arranged as they stand in the very succinct edition of Mr. Malone. Yet I cannot prevail on myself, in further imitation of him, to suppress the note of my late friend Mr. Tyrwhitt, a note that seems to be treated with civilities that degrade its value, and with a neglect that few of its author's opinions have deserved. My inability to offer such a defence of his present one, as he himself could undoubtedly have supplied, is no reason why it should be prevented from exerting its own proper influence on the reader. Steevens. The poet has used the same mode of expression in The Merchant of Venice, Act I. Sc. I.: “O my Antonio, I do know of those “Who therefore only are reputed wise, “For saying nothing; who, I'm very sure, “If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, “Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.” And there the allusion is evident to the gospel-judgment against those, who calls their brothers fools. I am therefore inclined to believe, that the true reading here is: “A fellow almost damn'd in a fair life;” and that Shakspeare alludes to the judgment denounced in the gospel against those of whom all men speak well. The character of Cassio is certainly such, as would be very likely to draw upon him all the peril of this denunciation, literally understood. Well-bred, easy, sociable, good natured; with abilities enough to make him agreeable and useful, but not sufficient to excite the envy of his equals, or to alarm the jealousy of his superiors. It may be observed too, that Shakspeare has thought it proper, to make Iago, in several other passages, bear his testimony to the amiable qualities of his rival. In Act V. Sc. I. he speaks thus of him: “&lblank; if Cassio do remain, “He hath a daily beauty in his life, “That makes me ugly.” I will only add, that, however hard or far-fetched this allusion (whether Shakspeare's or only mine) may seem to be, Archbishop Sheldon had exactly the same conceit, when he made that singular compliment, as the writer calls it, [Biograph. Britan. Art. Temple,] to a nephew of Sir William Temple, that “he had the curse of the gospel, because all men spoke well of him.” Tyrwhitt. That Mr. Tyrwhitt has given us Shakspeare's genuine word and meaning I have not the least doubt. Bianca is evidently a courtezan of Cyprus, and Cassio, of course, not yet acquainted with her. But even admitting that she might have followed him thither, and got comfortably settled in a “house,” still, I think, the improbability of his having any intention to marry her is too gross for consideration. What, the gallant Cassio, the friend and favourite of his general, to marry a “customer,” a “fitchew,” a “huswife who by selling her desires buys herself bread and clothes!” Iago, indeed, pretends that she had given out such a report, but it is merely with a view to make Cassio laugh the louder. There can be no reason for his practising any similar imposition upon Roderigo. Ritson.

Note return to page 468 1&lblank; theorick,] Theorick, for theory. So, in The Proceedings against Garnet on the Powder-Plot: “&lblank; as much deceived in the theoricke of trust, as the lay disciples were in the practicke of conspiracie.” Steevens. This was the common language of Shakspeare's time. See All's Well that Ends Well, Act IV. Sc. III. Malone.

Note return to page 469 2Wherein the toged consuls &lblank;] Consuls, for counsellors. Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, council. Mr. Theobald would have us read, counsellors. Venice was originally governed by consuls: and consuls seems to have been commonly used for counsellors, as afterwards in this play. In Albion's Triumph, a Masque, 1631, the Emperor Albanact is said to be “attended by fourteen consuls.” Again: “&lblank; the habits of the consuls were after the same manner.” Geoffrey of Monmouth, and Matthew Paris after him, call both dukes and earls, consuls. Steevens. The rulers of the state, or civil governours. The word is used by Marlowe, in the same sense, in Tamburlaine, a tragedy, 1590: “Both we will raigne as consuls of the earth.” Malone. By toged perhaps is meant peaceable, in opposition to the warlike qualifications of which he had been speaking. He might have formed the word in allusion to the Latin adage,—Cedant arma togæ. Steevens. The folio reads tongued, which agrees better with the words which follow: “mere prattle without practice.” Boswell.

Note return to page 470 3More than a spinster; unless the bookish theorick, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he: mere prattle without practice,] This play has many redundant lines, like the first and third of the foregoing. I cannot help regarding the words distinguished by small capitals, as interpolations. In the opening scene of King Henry V. Shakspeare thought it unnecessary to join an epithet to theorick; and if the monosyllables—as he, were omitted, would Iago's meaning halt for want of them? Steevens.

Note return to page 471 4&lblank; must be be-lee'd and calm'd &lblank;] The old quarto—led. The first folio reads, be-lee'd: but that spoils the measure. I read, let, hindered. Warburton. Be-lee'd suits to calm'd, and the measure is not less perfect than in many other places. Johnson. Be-lee'd and be-calm'd are terms of navigation. I have been informed that one vessel is said to be in the lee of another, when it is so placed that the wind is intercepted from it. Iago's meaning therefore is, that Cassio had got the wind of him, and be-calm'd him from going on. To be-calm (as I learn from Falconer's Marine Dictionary,) is likewise to obstruct the current of the wind in its passage to a ship, by any contiguous object. Steevens.

Note return to page 472 5By debitor &lblank;] All the modern editors read—by debtor; but debitor (the reading of the old copies) was the word used in Shakspeare's time. So, in Sir John Davies's Epigrams, 1598: “There stands the constable, there stands the whore, &lblank; “There by the serjeant stands the debitor.” See also the passage quoted from Cymbeline, n. 6. Malone.

Note return to page 473 6&lblank; this counter-caster;] It was anciently the practice to reckon up sums with counters. To this Shakspeare alludes again in Cymbeline, Act V: “&lblank; it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor, but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters;” &c. Again, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “I wyl cast my counters, or with counters make all my reckenynges.” Steevens. So, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; fifteen hundred shorn,— What comes the wool to?—I cannot do't without counters.” Malone.

Note return to page 474 *Omitted in the first folio.

Note return to page 475 7&lblank; bless the mark!] Kelly, in his comments on Scots proverbs, observes, that the Scots, when they compare person to person, use this exclamation. I find, however, this phrase in Churchyard's Tragical Discourse of a Dolorous Gentlewoman, &c. 1593: “Not beauty here I claime by this my talke, “For browne and blacke I was, God blesse the marke! “Who calls me fair dooth scarce know cheese from chalke: “For I was form'd when winter nights was darke, “And nature's workes tooke light at little sparke; “For kinde in scorne had made a moulde of jette, “That shone like cole, wherein my face was set.” It is singular that both Churchyard and Shakspeare should have used this form of words with reference to a black person. Steevens. Our author uses it in Henry IV. Part I. without any such reference: “Of guns and drums and wounds, God save the mark!” Boswell.

Note return to page 476 8&lblank; his Moorship's &lblank;] The first quarto reads—his worship's. Steevens.

Note return to page 477 9&lblank; by letter,] By recommendation from powerful friends. Johnson.

Note return to page 478 1Not by the old gradation,] Old gradation, is gradation established by ancient practice. Johnson.

Note return to page 479 2Whether I in any just term am affin'd &lblank;] Affin'd is the reading of the third quarto and the first folio. The second quarto and all the modern editions have assign'd. The meaning is,— “Do I stand within any such terms of propinquity, or relation to the Moor, as that it is my duty to love him?” Johnson. The original quarto, 1622, has assign'd, but it was manifestly an error of the press. Malone.

Note return to page 480 3For nought but provender; and, when he's old, cashier'd;] Surely, this line was originally shorter. We might safely read— “For nought but provender; when old, cashier'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 481 4&lblank; honest knaves:] Knave is here for servant, but with a sly mixture of contempt. Johnson.

Note return to page 482 5For, sir,] These words, which are found in all the ancient copies, are omitted by Mr. Pope, and most of our modern editors. Steevens.

Note return to page 483 6In compliment extern,] In that which I do only for an outward show of civility. Johnson. So, in Sir W. D'Avenant's Albovine, 1629: “&lblank; that in sight extern “A patriarch seems.” Steevens.

Note return to page 484 7For daws, &c.] The first quarto reads,—For doves &lblank;. Steevens. I have adhered to the original copy, because I suspect Shakspeare had in his thoughts a passage in Lyly's Euphues and his England, 1580: “As all coynes are not good that have the image of Cæsar, nor all gold that is coyned with the kinges stampe, so all is not truth that beareth the shew of godlinesse, nor all friends that beare a faire face. If thou pretend such love to Euphues, carry thy heart on the backe of thy hand, and thy tongue in thy palme, that I may see what is in thy minde, and thou with thy finger claspe thy mouth.—I can better take a blister of a nettle, than a pricke of a rose; more willing that a raven should peck out mine eyes, than a turtle peck at them.” Malone. I read with the folio. Iago certainly means to say, he would expose his heart as a prey to the most worthless of birds, i. e. daws, which are treated with universal contempt. Our author would scarcely have degraded the amiable tribe of doves to such an office; nor is the mention of them at all suitable to the harsh turn of Iago's speech. Steevens. The poet, according to the reading of the quarto, meant to say that not only birds of prey, but gentle and timid doves, might peck at him with safety. Malone.

Note return to page 485 8What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,] Full fortune is, I believe, a complete piece of good fortune, as in another scene of this play a full soldier is put for a complete soldier. So, in Cymbeline: “Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine.” Again, in Chapman's version of the Fourth Book of Homer's Odyssey, we have— “Jove did not only his full fate adorn, “When he was wedded.” To owe, is in ancient language, to own, to possess. Steevens. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; not the imperious show “Of the full fortun'd Cæsar &lblank;.” Full is used by Chaucer in the same sense in his Troilus, b. l.: “Sufficeth this, my full friend Pandare, “That I have said &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 486 *First folio, chances.

Note return to page 487 9As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities.] The particle is used equivocally: the same liberty is taken by writers more correct: “The wonderful creature! a woman of reason! “Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season.” Johnson. “By night and negligence” means, during the time of night and negligence. M. Mason. The meaning, as Mr. Edwards has observed, is, “not that the fire was spied by negligence, but the fire, which came by night and negligence, was spied. And this double meaning to the same word is common to Shakspeare with all other writers, especially where the word is so familiar a one, as this is in question. Ovid seems even to have thought it a beauty instead of a defect.” Malone.

Note return to page 488 1Are your doors lock'd?] The first quarto reads— “Are all doors lock'd?” Steevens.

Note return to page 489 2&lblank; is burst,] i. e. broken. Burst for broke is used in our author's King Henry IV. Part II.: “&lblank; and then he burst his head for crouding among the marshal's men.” Steevens. So, in The Taming of the Shrew, vol. v. p. 352: “You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?”

Note return to page 490 3&lblank; tupping your white ewe.] In the north of England a ram is called a tup. Malone. I had made the same observation in the third Act of this play, Scene III. Stevens. “&lblank; your white ewe.” It appears from a passage in Decker's O per se O, 4to. 1612, that this was a term in the cant language used by vagabonds: “As the men haue nicke-names, so likewise haue the women: for some of them are called the white ewe, the lambe,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 491 *First folio, worser.

Note return to page 492 4&lblank; distempering draughts,] To be distempered with liquor, was, in Shakspeare's age, the phrase for intoxication. In Hamlet the King is said to be “marvellous distempered with wine.” Malone. See Henry V. Act II. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 *First folio, spirits.

Note return to page 494 5&lblank; this is Venice; My house is not a grange.] That is, “you are in a populous city, not in a lone house, where a robbery might easily be committed.” Grange is strictly and properly the farm of a monastery, where the religious reposited their corn. Grangia, Lat. from Granum. But in Lincolnshire, and in other northern counties, they call every lone house, or farm which stands solitary, a grange. T. Warton. So in T. Heywood's English Traveller, 1633: “&lblank; to absent himself from home, “And make his father's house but as a grange?” &c. Again, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1599: “&lblank; soon was I train'd from court “To a solitary grange,” &c. Again, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; at the moated grange resides this dejected Mariana.” Steevens.

Note return to page 495 †First folio omits 'Zounds.

Note return to page 496 6&lblank; your nephews neigh to you:] Nephew, in this instance, has the power of the Latin word nepos, and signifies a grandson, or any lineal descendant, however remote. So, A. of Wyntown, in his Cronykil, b. viii. ch. iii. v. 119: “Hyr swne may be cald newn: “This is of that word the wertu.” Thus, also, in Spenser: “And all the sons of these five brethren reign'd “By due success, and all their nephews late, “Even thrice eleven descents the crown obtain'd.” Again, in Chapman's version of the Odyssey, b. xxiv. Laertes says of Telemachus his grandson: “&lblank; to behold my son “And nephew close in such contention.” Sir W. Dugdale very often employs the word in this sense: and without it, it would not be very easy to show how Brabantio could have nephews by the marriage of his daughter. Ben Jonson likewise uses it with the same meaning. The alliteration in this passage caused Shakspeare to have recourse to it. Steevens. See Richard III. Act IV. Sc. I. Malone. In Junius's Nomenclature by Higgins, 1585, nepos has no other explanation than nephew, e filio filiâve natus. The word grandson never occurs in Shakspeare. Boswell.

Note return to page 497 7&lblank; gennets for germans,] A jennet is a Spanish horse. So, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “&lblank; there stays within my tent “A winged jennet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 498 8What profane wretch art thou?] That is, what wretch of gross and licentious language? In that sense Shakspeare often uses the word profane. Johnson. It is so used by other writers of the same age: “How far off dwells the house-surgeon? “&lblank; You are a profane fellow, i'faith.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “By the sly justice, and his clerk profane.” James Howell, in a dialogue prefixed to his edition of Cotgrave's Dictionary, in 1673, has the following sentence: “J'aimerois mieux estre trop ceremonieux, que trop prophane:” which he thus also anglicises—“I had rather be too ceremonious, than too prophane.” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 *First folio, come.

Note return to page 500 9&lblank; your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.] This is an ancient proverbial expression in the French language, whence Shakspeare probably borrowed it; for in the Dictionnaire des Proverbes Françoises, par G. D. B. Brusselles, 1710, 12mo. I find the following article: “Faire la bête a deux dos,” pour dire, faire l'amour.” Percy. In the Dictionnaire Comique, par le Roux, 1750, this phrase is more particularly explained under the article Bete: “Faire la bete a deux dos.—Maniere de parler qui signifie etre couché avec une femme; faire le deduit.”—“Et faisoient tous deux souvent ensemble la bete a deux dos joyeusement.” Rabelais, liv. i. There was a translation of Rabelais published in the time of Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 501 1[If't be your pleasure, &c.] The lines printed in crotchets are not in the first edition, but in the folio of 1623. Johnson.

Note return to page 502 2At this odd even and dull watch o'the night,] The even of night is midnight, the time when night is divided into even parts. Johnson. Odd is here ambiguously used, as it signifies strange, uncouth, or unwonted; and as it is opposed to even. But this expression, however explained, is very harsh. Steevens. This odd even is simply the interval between twelve at night and one in the morning. Henley. By this singular expression,—“this odd-even of the night,” our poet appears to have meant, that it was just approaching to, or just past, that it was doubtful whether at that moment it stood at the point of midnight, or at some other less equal division of the twenty-four-hours; which a few minutes either before or after midnight would be. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; What is the night? “Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which.” Shakspeare was probably thinking of his boyish school play, odd or even. Malone. Surely, “almost at odds with morning” signifies, almost entering into conflict with it. Thus, in Timon of Athens: “Tis honour, with most lands to be at odds &lblank;.” In King Henry VI. Part III. we find an idea similar to that in Macbeth: “&lblank; like the morning's war, “When dying clouds contend with growing light.” Steevens. Mr. Steevens's explanation perfectly agrees with mine, except that he has taken no notice of the close of my quotation from Macbeth, which is which, produced for the purpose of confirming what I had said of the time being doubtful. Malone.

Note return to page 503 3&lblank; and your allowance,] i e. done with your approbation. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “A stirring dwarf we do allowance give “Before a sleeping giant!” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; If your sweet sway “Allow obedience.” Malone.

Note return to page 504 4That, from the sense of all civility,] That is, in opposition to, or departing from, the sense of all civility. So, in Twelfth-Night: “But this is from my commission &lblank;.” Again, in The Mayor of Queenborough, by Middleton, 1661: “But this is from my business.” Malone.

Note return to page 505 5In an extravagant &lblank;] Extravagant is here used in its Latin signification, for wandering. Thus, in Hamlet: “The extravagant, and erring spirit &lblank;.” Steevens. This use of the word is not peculiar to Shakspeare. It is found in Sir Henry Wotton's Parallel, &c. “These two accidents precisely true, and known to few, I have reported as not altogether extravagant from my purpose.” Malone.

Note return to page 506 6Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, In an extravagant and wheeling stranger,] Thus the old copies, for which the modern editors, following Mr. Pope, have substituted—To an extravagant, &c. In King Lear, we find— “And hold our lives in mercy;” (not at mercy;) in The Winter's Tale—“he was torn to pieces with a bear,” not “by a bear;” and in Hamlet: “To let this canker of our nature come “In further evil.” So, in the next scene, we have “&lblank; in your part,” not “&lblank; on your part.” We might substitute modern for ancient phraseology in all these passage with as much propriety as in the present. Malone.

Note return to page 507 7For thus deluding you.] The first quarto reads,—For this delusion. Steevens.

Note return to page 508 8To be produc'd &lblank;] The folio reads,—producted. Steevens.

Note return to page 509 9&lblank; some check,] Some rebuke. Johnson.

Note return to page 510 1&lblank; cast him;] That is, dismiss him; reject him. We still say, a cast coat, and a cast serving-man. Johnson.

Note return to page 511 *Old copies, stands.

Note return to page 512 2&lblank; the Sagittary &lblank;] Thus the folio. The quarto, 1622, reads,—the Sagittar &lblank;. I have chosen the unclipped reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 513 3And what's to come of my despised time,] Despised time, is time of no value; time in which— “There's nothing serious in mortality, “The wine of life is drawn, and the mere dregs “Are left this vault to brag of.” Macbeth. Johnson. Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; expire the term “Of a despised life clos'd in my breast.” As the quotation in the preceding note belongs to our steady moralist, Dr. Johnson, it could not have been more uncharacteristically vitiated, than by the compositor, in Mr. Malone's edition, [1790] where it appears thus: “There's nothing serious in morality.” Steevens.   “Veniam petimusque damusque vicissim.” Boswell.

Note return to page 514 4&lblank; O, thou deceiv'st me Past thought!] Thus the quarto, 1622. The folio, 1623, and the quartos, 1630 and 1655, read: “&lblank; O, she deceives me “Past thought! &lblank;” I have chosen the apostrophe to his absent daughter, as the most spirited of the two readings. Steevens.

Note return to page 515 5&lblank; Are there not charms,] Thus the second folio. The first, and the quarto, ungrammatically read,—Is there not, &c. Mr. Malone follows the oldest copies, and observes that the words —Is there not charms, &c. mean—Is there not such a thing as charms? Steevens.

Note return to page 516 6By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abus'd?] By which the faculties of a young virgin may be infatuated, and made subject to illusions and false imagination: “&lblank; wicked dreams abuse “The curtain'd sleep.” Macbeth. Johnson. “&lblank; and maidhood &lblank;” The quartos read—and manhood &lblank;. Steevens.

Note return to page 517 *Quarto, I have, sir.

Note return to page 518 †First folio, would.

Note return to page 519 7Pray you, lead on.] The first quarto reads,—Pray lead me on. Steevens.

Note return to page 520 8&lblank; of night.] Thus the original quarto, 1622; for which the editor of the folio substituted—officers of might; a reading which all the modern editors have adopted. I have more than once had occasion to remark that the quarto readings were sometimes changed by the editor of the folio, from ignorance of our poet's phraseology or meaning. I have no doubt that Shakspeare, before he wrote this play, read The Commonwealth and Government of Venice, translated from the Italian by Lewes Lewkenor, and printed in quarto, 1599; a book prefixed to which we find a copy of verses by Spenser. This treatise furnished our poet with the knowledge of those officers of night, whom Brabantio here desires to be called to his assistance. “For the greater expedition thereof, of these kinds of judgements, the heades or chieftaines of the officers by night do obtaine the authority of which the advocators are deprived. These officers of the night are six, and six likewise are those meane officers, that have only power to correct base vagabonds and trifling offences. “Those that do execute this office are called heades of the tribes of the city, because out of every tribe, (for the city is divided into six tribes,) there is elected an officer of the night, and a head of the tribe.—The duty of eyther of these officers is, to keepe a watch every other night by turn, within their tribes; and, now the one, and then the other, to make rounds about his quarter, till the dawning of the day, being always guarded and attended on with weaponed officers and serjeants, and to see that there be not any disorder done in the darkness of the night, which alwaies emboldeneth men to naughtinesse; and that there be not any houses broken up, nor thieves nor rogues lurking in corners with intent to do violence.” Commonwealth of Venice, pp. 97, 99. Malone. It has been observed by Mr. Malone, in Romeo and Juliet, (See Vol. V. p. 237.) that there is no watch in Italy. How does that assertion quadrate with the foregoing account of officers of the night?” Steevens. I have said in the passage referred to, that this objection has been made by others, and have not given the observation as my own. But although it is proved from Lewkenor, that there were officers of the night at Venice, it by no means follows that the same was the case at Verona. I may add, that after Mr. Steevens had acquiesced in the corrupted reading for twenty years, he might have accepted my restoration of the author's text without cavilling at the note which contained it. Malone.

Note return to page 521 9&lblank; stuff o'the conscience,] This expression to common readers appears harsh. Stuff of the conscience is, substance or essence of the conscience. Stuff is a word of great force in the Teutonick languages. The elements are called in Dutch, Hoefd stoffen, or head stuffs. Johnson. Again, in King Henry VIII.: “You're full of heavenly stuff,” &c. Frisch's German Dictionary gives this explanation of the word stoff: “&lblank; materies ex qua aliquid fieri poterit.” Steevens. Shakspeare in Macbeth uses this word in the same sense, and in a manner yet more harsh: “Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff.” Holt White.

Note return to page 522 *First folio, jerked.

Note return to page 523 1&lblank; he prated,] Of whom is this said? Of Roderigo? Steevens.

Note return to page 524 *First folio, I pray you, sir.

Note return to page 525 †First folio, be assured of this.

Note return to page 526 2&lblank; the magnifico &lblank;] “The chief men of Venice are by a peculiar name called magnifici, i. e. magnificoes.” Minsheu's Dictionary. See too Volpone. Tollet.

Note return to page 527 3&lblank; a voice potential As double as the duke's:] It appears from Thomas's History of Italy, 4to. 1560, to have been a popular opinion, though a false one, that the duke of Venice had a double voice: “Whereas,” says he, “many have reported, the duke in ballotyng should have two voices; it is nothinge so; for in giving his voice he hath but one ballot, as all others have.” Shakspeare, therefore, might have gone on this received opinion, which he might have found in some other book. Supposing, however, that he had learned from this very passage that the duke had not a double voice in the Council of Seven, yet as he has a vote in each of the various councils of the Venetian state, (a privilege which no other person enjoys,) our poet might have thought himself justified in the epithet which he has here used; and this circumstance, which he might have found in a book already quoted, Contareno's Commonwealth and Government of Venice, 4to. 1599, was, I believe, here in his thoughts. “The duke himself also, if he will, may use the authority of an advocator or president, and make report to the councell of any offence, and of any amercement or punishment that is thereupon to be inflicted;—for so great is the prince's authoritie, that he may, in whatsoever court, adjoine himselfe to the magistrate therein, being president, as his colleague and companion, and have equal power with the other presidents, that he might so by this means be able to look into all things,” p. 41. Again, ibidem, p. 42: “Besides this, this prince [i. e. the duke,] hath in every councell equal authoritie with any of them, for one suffrage or lotte.” Thus we see, though he had not a double voice in any one assembly, yet as he had a vote in all the various assemblies, his voice, thus added to the voice of each of the presidents of those assemblies, might with strict propriety be called double, and potential.— Potential, Dr. Johnson thinks, means operative, having the effect, (by weight and influence,) without the external actual property. It is used, he conceives, “in the sense of science; a caustick is called potential fire.” I question whether Shakspeare meant more by the word than operative, or powerful. Malone. Double and single anciently signified strong and weak, when applied to liquors, and perhaps to other objects. In this sense the former epithet may be employed by Brabantio, and the latter by the Chief Justice speaking to Falstaff: “Is not your wit single?” When Macbeth also talks of his “single state of man,” he may mean no more than his weak and debile state of mind. “&lblank; a voice potential “As double as the duke's,” may therefore only signify, that Brabantio's voice, as a magnifico, was as forcible as that of the duke. Steevens. “The double voice” of Brabantio refers to the opinion, which (as being a magnifico, he was no less entitled to, than the duke himself,) either, of nullifying the marriage of his daughter, contracted without his consent; or, of subjecting Othello to fine and imprisonment, for having seduced an heiress. Henley.

Note return to page 528 4&lblank; 'Tis yet to know, (Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate,)] Thus the folio. The quarto, 1622, reads— “&lblank; 'Tis yet to know “That boasting is an honour. “I shall promulgate, I fetch,” &c. Malone. The quarto 1622 reads—provulgate. Boswell.

Note return to page 529 5&lblank; men of royal siege;] Men who have sat upon royal thrones. The quarto has—“men of royal height.” Siege is used for seat by other authors. So, in Stowe's Chronicle, p. 575: “there was set up a throne or siege royall for the king.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. vii.: “A stately siege of soveraigne majestye.” Steevens. So, in Grafton's Chronicle, p. 443: “Incontinent after that he was placed in the royal siege,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 530 6&lblank; and my demerits &lblank;] Demerits has the same meaning in our author, and many others of that age, as merits: “Opinion, that so sticks on Martius, may “Of his demerits rob Cominius.” Coriolanus. Again, in Dugdale's Warwickshire, p. 850, edit. 1730: “Henry Conway, esq. for his singular demerits received the dignity of knighthood.” Mereo and demereo had the same meaning in the Roman language. Steevens.

Note return to page 531 7May speak, unbonneted,] Thus all the copies read. It should be—unbonneting, i. e. without putting off the bonnet. Pope. I do not see the propriety of Mr. Pope's emendation, though adopted by Dr. Warburton. Unbonneting may as well be, not putting on, as not putting off, the bonnet. Hanmer reads e'en bonneted. Johnson. To speak unbonneted, is to speak with the cap off, which is directly opposite to the poet's meaning. Othello means to say, that his birth and services set him upon such a rank, that he may speak to a senator of Venice with his hat on; i. e. without showing any marks of deference or inequality. I therefore am inclined to think Shakspeare wrote— “May speak, and, bonnetted,” &c. Theobald. Bonneter (says Cotgrave) is to put off one's cap. So, in Coriolanus: “Those who are supple and courteous to the people, bonneted without any further deed to heave them at all into their estimation.” Unbonneted may therefore signify, without taking the cap off. We might, I think, venture to read imbonneted. It is common with Shakspeare to make or use words compounded in the same manner. Such are impawn, impaint, impale, and immask. Of all the readings hitherto proposed, that of Mr. Theobald is, I think, the best. Steevens. The objection to Mr. Steevens's explanation of unbonneted, i. e. without taking the cap off, is, that Shakspeare has himself used the word in King Lear, Act III. Sc. I. with the very contrary signification, namely, for one whose cap is off: “&lblank; Unbonneted he runs, “And bids what will take all.” He might, however, have employed the word here in a different sense. Malone. Unbonneted, is uncovered, revealed, made known. In the second Act and third Scene of this play we meet with an expression similar to this: “&lblank; you unlace your reputation;” and another in As You Like It, Act IV. Sc. I.: “Now unmuzzle your wisdom.” A. C. Mr. Fuseli (and who is better acquainted with the sense and spirit of our author?) explains this contested passage as follows; “I am his equal or superior in rank; and were it not so, such are my demerits, that, unbonneted, without the addition of patrician or senatorial dignity, they may speak to as proud a fortune,” &c. “At Venice, the bonnet, as well as the toge, is a badge of aristocratick honours to this day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 532 8&lblank; unhoused &lblank;] Free from domestick cares. A thought natural to an adventurer. Johnson. Othello talking as a soldier, unhoused may signify the having no settled house or habitation. Whalley.

Note return to page 533 9For the sea's worth.] I would not marry her, though she were as rich as the Adriatick, which the Doge annually marries. Johnson. As the gold ring annually thrown by the Doge into the Adriatick, cannot be said to have much enriched it, I believe the common and obvious meaning of this passage is the true one. The same words occur in Sir W. D'Avenant's Cruel Brother, 1630: “&lblank; he would not lose that privilege “For the sea's worth.” Perhaps the phrase is proverbial. Pliny the naturalist has a chapter on the riches of the sea. Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; for all the sun sees, or “The close earth wombs, or the profound sea hides “In unknown fathoms,” &c. Again, in King Henry V. Act I.: “&lblank; As rich with praise, “As is the ooze, and bottom of the sea, “With sunken wreck, and sumless treasuries.” Steevens.

Note return to page 534 1The goodness of the night upon you, friends!] So, in Measure for Measure: “The best and wholsomest spirits of the night “Envellop you, good Provost!” Steevens.

Note return to page 535 2&lblank; your haste, post-haste appearance,] The comma, hitherto placed after haste, should be a hyphen. Your haste-post-haste appearance is your immediate appearance. The words “Haste, post, haste,” were in our author's time usually written on the cover of packets, or letters, sent express. Ritson.

Note return to page 536 3&lblank; sequent messengers &lblank;] The first quarto reads—frequent messengers. Steevens.

Note return to page 537 4&lblank; the consuls,] See p. 222, n. 2. Steevens.

Note return to page 538 5The senate hath sent about &lblank;] The early quartos, and all the modern editors, have— “The senate sent above three several quests, &lblank;” The folio— “The senate hath sent about,” &c. That is, about the city. I have adopted the reading of the folio. Johnson. Quests are, on this occasion, searches. So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “Now, if in all his quests, he be witheld.” An ancient MS. entitled The Boke of Huntyng that is cleped Mayster of Game, has the following explanation of the word quest: “This word quest is a terme of herte hunters of beyonde the see; and is thus moche to say as whan the hunter goth to fynde of the hert and to herborow him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 539 6&lblank; a land carack;] A carack is a ship of great bulk, and commonly of great value; perhaps what we now call a galleon. Johnson. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Coxcomb: “&lblank; they'll be freighted; “They're made like caracks, all for strength and stowage.” Steevens. The first ships that came richly laden from the West Indies to Europe were those from the Caraccas, part of the Spanish settlements; and some years ago a Caracca ship generally proved a very rich prize. M. Mason. A carack, or carick, (for so it was more frequently written in Shakspeare's time,) is of higher origin, and was denominated from the Spanish word, caraca, which signifies a vessel of great bulk, constructed to carry a heavy burthen. The Spanish caraca, Minsheu thinks, may have been formed from the Italian carico, a lading, or freight. Malone.

Note return to page 540 7To who?] It is somewhat singular that Cassio should ask this question. In the third scene of the third Act, Iago says: “Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, “Know of your love? “Oth. From first to last.” He who was acquainted with the object courted by his friend, could have little reason for doubting to whom he would be married. Steevens. Cassio's seeming ignorance of Othello's courtship or marriage might only be affected; in order to keep his friend's secret, till it became publickly known. Blackstone. Or he might fear that Othello had proved false to the gentle Desdemona, and married another. Malone. How far this suspicious apprehension would have become the benevolent Cassio, the intimate friend of Othello, let the reader judge. Steevens.

Note return to page 541 8Have with you.] This expression denotes readiness. So, in the ancient Interlude of Nature, bl. l. no date: “And saw that Glotony wold nedys begone; “Have with thee, Glotony, quoth he anon, “For I must go wyth thee.” See Richard III. Act III. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 542 9&lblank; be advis'd;] That is, be cool; be cautious; be discreet. Johnson.

Note return to page 543 *Quarto omits this line.

Note return to page 544 1The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,] Curled is elegantly and ostentatiously dressed. He had not the hair particularly in his thoughts. Johnson. On another occasion Shakspeare employs the same expression, and evidently alludes to the hair: “If she first meet the curled Antony,” &c. Sir W. D'Avenant uses the same expression in his Just Italian, 1630: “The curl'd and silken nobles of the town.” Again: “Such as the curled youth of Italy.” I believe Shakspeare has the same meaning in the present instance. Thus, Turnus, in the 12th Æneid, speaking of Æneas: &lblank; fœdare in pulvere crines Vibratos calido ferro &lblank;. Steevens. That Dr. Johnson was mistaken in his interpretation of this line, is ascertained by our poet's Rape of Lucrece, where the hair is not merely alluded to, but expressly mentioned, and the epithet curled is added as characteristick of a person of the highest rank: “Let him have time to tear his curled hair.” Tarquin, a king's son, is the person spoken of. Edgar, when he was “proud in heart and mind,” curled his hair. Malone.

Note return to page 545 2Of such a thing as thou: to fear, not to delight.] To fear, in the present instance, may mean—to terrify. So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.” The line spoken by Brabantio is redundant in its measure. It might originally have ran— “Of such as thou; to fear, not to delight.” Mr. Rowe, however, seems to have selected the words I would omit, as proper to be put into the mouth of Horatio, who applies them to Lothario: “To be the prey of such a thing as thou art.” Steevens. “&lblank; to fear, not to delight.” To one more likely to terrify than delight her. So, in the next scene (Brabantio is again the speaker): “To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on.” Mr. Steevens supposes fear to be a verb here, used in the sense of to terrify; a signification which it formerly had. But fear, I apprehend, is a substantive, and poetically used for the object of fear. Malone.

Note return to page 546 3[Judge me the world, &c.] The lines following in crotchets are not in the first edition, [1622.] Pope.

Note return to page 547 4Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals, That waken motion:] [Old copy—weaken.] Hanmer reads with probability; “That waken motion &lblank;.” Motion in a subsequent scene of this play is used in the very sense in which Sir Thomas Hanmer would employ it:—“But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts.” Steevens. To weaken motion is, to impair the faculties. It was till very lately, and may with some be still an opinion, that philtres or love potions, have the power of perverting, and of course weakening or impairing both the sight and judgment, and of procuring fondness or dotage toward any unworthy object who administers them. And by motion, Shakspeare means the senses which are depraved and weakened by these fascinating mixtures, Ritson. The folio, where alone this passage is found, reads: “That weaken motion &lblank;.” I have adopted Sir Thomas Hanmer's emendation, because I have a good reason to believe that the words weaken and waken were in Shakspeare's time pronounced alike, and hence the mistake might easily have happened. Motion is elsewhere used by our poet precisely in the sense required here. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; for there's no motion “That tends to vice in man, but I affirm “It is the woman's part.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; sense sure you have, “Else could you not have motion.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; one who never feels “The wanton stings and motions of the sense.” So also, in A Mad World my Masters, by Middleton, 1608: “And in myself sooth up adulterous motions, “And such an appetite as I know damns me.” We have in the play before us—waken'd wrath, and I think in some other play of Shakspeare—waken'd love. So, in our poet's 117th Sonnet: “But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate.” Ben Jonson in his preface to Volpone has a similar phraseology: “&lblank; it being the office of the comick poet to stirre up gentle affections.” Mr. Theobald reads—That weaken notion, i. e. says he, her right conception and idea of things, understanding, judgment. This reading, it must be acknowledged, derives some support from a passage in King Lear, Act II. Sc. IV:—“either his notion weakens, or his discernings are lethargy'd.” But the objection to it is, that no opiates or intoxicating potions or powders of any sort can distort or pervert the intellects, but by destroying them for a time; nor was it ever at any time believed by the most credulous, that love-powders, as they were called, could weaken the understanding, though it was formerly believed that they could fascinate the affections: or, in other words, waken motion. Brabantio afterwards asserts: “That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood “He wrought upon her.” (Our poet, it should be remembered, in almost all his plays, uses blood for passion. See vol. vii. p. 41, 301, and many other places.) And one of the Senators asks Othello, not, whether he had weaken'd Desdemona's understanding, but whether he did— “&lblank; by indirect and forced courses “Subdue and poison this young maid's affections.” The notion of the efficacy of love-powders was formerly so prevalent, that in the parliament summoned by King Richard the Third, on his usurping the throne, it was publickly urged as a charge against lady Grey, that she had bewitched King Edward the Fourth, “by strange potions and amorous charms.” See Fabian, p. 495; Speed, p. 913, edit. 1632; and Habington's History of King Edward the Fourth, p. 35. Malone. In the passages adduced by Mr. Steevens and Mr. Malone, to prove that motion signifies lustful desires, it may be remarked that the word derives this peculiar meaning, either from some epithet, or restrictive mode of expression, with which it stands connected. But, had it been used absolutely, in that sense, with what consistency could Brabantio attribute the emotions of lust in his daughter, to the irritation of those very philtres, which he, in the self-same breath, represents as abating it? The drugs or minerals, with which Othello is charged as having abused the delicate youth of Desdemona, were supposed to have accomplished his purpose, by “Charming her blood with pleasing heaviness,” thereby weakening motion, that is, subduing her maiden pudency, and lulling her wonted coyness into a state of acquiescence. That this is the sense of the passage, is further evident from what follows; for so bashful was she of disposition, “&lblank; that her motion “Blush'd at herself:” and, therefore, adds Brabantio: “&lblank; I vouch again, “That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, “Or with some dram conjur'd to this effect, “He wrought upon her.” Henley.

Note return to page 548 5For an abuser, &c.] The first quarto reads—Such an abuser, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 549 6To bring &lblank;] The quartos read—To bear. Steevens.

Note return to page 550 7Bond-slaves, and pagans,] Mr. Theobald alters pagans to pageants, for this reason, “That pagans are as strict and moral all the world over, as the most regular Christians, in the preservation of private property.” But what then? The speaker had not this high opinion of pagan morality, as is plain from hence, that this important discovery, so much to the honour of paganism, was first made by our editor. Warburton. The meaning of these expressions of Brabantio seems to have been mistaken. I believe the morality of either Christians or pagans was not in our author's thoughts. He alludes to the common condition of all blacks, who come from their own country both slaves and pagans; and uses the word in contempt of Othello and his complexion.—If this Moor is now suffered to escape with impunity, it will be such an encouragement to his black countrymen, that we may expect to see all the first offices of our state filled up by the pagans and bond-slaves of Africa. Steevens. In our author's time pagan was a very common expression of contempt. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. II.: “What pagan may that be?” Malone.

Note return to page 551 8There is no composition &lblank;] Composition, for consistency, concordancy. Warburton.

Note return to page 552 9&lblank; these news,] Thus the quarto 1622, and such was frequently the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. So, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1610: “The news are more delightful to his soul &lblank;.” See Henry VI. Part II. Act III. Sc. II.: “Ah me, what is this world, what news are these?” The folio reads—this news. Malone.

Note return to page 553 *Quarto, they aim'd.

Note return to page 554 1As in these cases, where the aim reports,] The folio has— the aim reports. But, they aim reports, [the reading of the quarto] has a sense sufficiently easy and commodious. Where men report not by certain knowledge, but by aim and conjecture. Johnson. To aim is to conjecture. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “But fearing lest my jealous aim might err.” Again, in the manuscript known by the title of William and the Werwolf, in the library of King's College, Cambridge: “No man upon mold, might ayme the number.” P. 56. Steevens. “&lblank; where the aim reports.” In these cases where conjecture or suspicion tells the tale. Aim is again used as a substantive, in this sense, in Julius Cæsar: “What would you work me to, I have some aim.” Malone.

Note return to page 555 *Quarto, to the error.

Note return to page 556 †Quarto omits what's.

Note return to page 557 2By signior Angelo.] This hemistich is wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 558 3By no assay of reason;] Bring it to the test, examine it by reason as we examine metals by the assay, it will be found counterfeit by all trials. Johnson.

Note return to page 559 4&lblank; with more facile question &lblank;] Question is for the act of seeking. With more easy endeavour. Johnson. “So may he with more facile question bear it.” That is, he may carry it with less dispute, with less opposition. I don't see how the word question can signify the act of seeking, though the word quest may. M. Mason.

Note return to page 560 5For that it stands not, &c.] The seven following lines are added since the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 561 6&lblank; warlike brace,] State of defence. To arm was called to brace on the armour. Johnson.

Note return to page 562 7To wake, and wage, a danger profitless.] To wage here, as in many other places in Shakspeare, signifies to fight, to combat. Thus, in King Lear: “To wage against the enmity of the air.” It took its rise from the common expression to wage war. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 8Ay, so, &c.] This line is not in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 564 9&lblank; do they re-stem &lblank;] The quartos mean to read,—resterne, though in the first of them the word is misspelt. Steevens.

Note return to page 565 1And prays you to believe him,] He entreats you not to doubt the truth of this intelligence. Johnson.

Note return to page 566 2Marcus Lucchesé,] The old copies have Luccicos. Mr. Capell made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 567 3&lblank; wish him &lblank;] i. e. recommend, desire him. Reed.

Note return to page 568 4&lblank; wish him post-post-haste: despatch.] i. e. tell him we wish him to make all possible haste. Post-haste is before in this play used adjectively: “And he requires your haste, post-haste appearance.” All messengers in the time of Shakspeare were enjoined, “Haste, haste; for thy life, post haste.” The reading of the text is that of the quarto, 1622. The folio reads: “Write from us to him, post, post-haste, dispatch.” Malone.

Note return to page 569 5Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman.] It is part of the policy of the Venetian state never to entrust the command of an army to a native. “To exclude, therefore, (says Contareno, as translated by Lewkenor, 4to. 1599,) out of our estate the danger or occasion of any such ambitious enterprises, our ancestors held it a better course to defend the dominions on the continent with foreign mercenary soldiers, than with their homebred citizens.” Again: “Their charges and yearly occasions of disbursement are likewise very great; for alwaies they do entertain in honourable sort with great provision a captaine generall, who alwaies is a stranger borne.” Malone. So, in Thomas's History of Italy, p. 82: “By lande they are served of straungers, both for generalls, for capitaines, and for all other men of warre: because theyr lawe permitteth not any Venetian to be capitaine over an armie by lande: Fearing, I thinke, Cæsar's example.” It was usual for the Venetians to employ strangers and even Moors in their wars. See The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona, Act V. Sc. I. See also Howell's Letters, B. I. S. I. Letter xxviii. Reed.

Note return to page 570 6&lblank; general care &lblank;] The word care, which encumbers the verse, was probably added by the players. Shakspeare uses the general as a substantive, though, I think, not in this sense. Johnson. The word general, when used by Shakspeare as a substantive, always implies the populace, not the publick: and if it were used here as an adjective, without the word care, it must refer to grief in the following line, a word which may properly denote a private sorrow, but not the alarm which a nation is supposed to feel on the approach of a formidable enemy. M. Mason. I suppose the author wrote: “Rais'd me from bed; nor doth the general care &lblank;.” and not— “Hath rais'd me from my bed,” &c. The words in the Italic character I regard as playhouse interpolations, by which the metre of this tragedy is too frequently deranged. Steevens. “&lblank; general care &lblank;” &lblank; juvenumque prodis, Publica cura. Hor. Steevens.

Note return to page 571 7Take hold &lblank;] The first quarto reads—Take any hold. Steevens.

Note return to page 572 8By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:] Rymer has ridiculed this circumstance as unbecoming (both for its weakness and superstition,) the gravity of the accuser, and the dignity of the tribunal: but his criticism only exposes his own ignorance. The circumstance was not only exactly in character, but urged with the greatest address, as the thing chiefly to be insisted on. For, by the Venetian law, the giving love potions was very criminal, as Shakspeare, without question, well understood. Thus the law, Dei maleficii et herbarie, cap. xvii. of the code, intitled, “Della promission del maleficio.” “Statuimo etiamdio, che-se alcun homo, o femina, harra fatto maleficii, iquali se dimandano vulgarmente amatorie, o veramente alcuni altri maleficii, che alcun homo o femina se havesson in odio, sia frusta et bollado, et che hara consegliado patisca simile pena.” And therefore in the preceding scene Brabantio calls them: “&lblank; arts inhibited, and out of warrant.” Warburton. Though I believe Shakspeare knew no more of this Venetian law than I do, yet he was well acquainted with the edicts of that sapient prince, King James the First, against— “&lblank; practisers “Of arts inhibited, and out of warrant.” Steevens. See p. 248. Malone.

Note return to page 573 9Being not, &c.] This line is wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 574 1For nature so preposterously to err, &lblank; Sans witchcraft could not &lblank;] The grammar requires we should read: “For nature so preposterously err,” &c. without the article to; and then the sentence will be complete. M. Mason. Were I certain that our author designed the sentence to be complete, and not to be cut short by the Duke's interruption, I should readily adopt the amendment proposed by Mr. M. Mason. Steevens. Omission is at all times the most dangerous mode of emendation, and here assuredly is unnecessary. We have again and again had occasion to observe, that Shakspeare frequently begins to construct a sentence in one mode, and ends it in another. So, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act I. Sc. I.: “No more of this, Helena, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have.” So also, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; Whom “Though bearing misery, I desire my life, “Once more to look on him.” Here he uses could not, as if he had written, “has not the power or capacity to,” &c. “It is not in nature so to err;” she knows not how to do it. Malone. Mr. Malone's opinion relative to omissions, is contradicted by an ancient canon of criticism,—Præferatur lectio brevior. I think it, in respect to Shakspeare, of all other modes of emendation the least reprehensible. See the Advertisement prefixed to this edition [Mr. Steevens's edit. of 1803,] of our author, and Tempest, Act II. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 575 *Quarto omits yea.

Note return to page 576 2Stood in your action.] Were the man exposed to your charge or accusation. Johnson.

Note return to page 577 3The very head and front of my offending &lblank;] The main, the whole, unextenuated. Johnson. “Frons causæ non satis honesta est,” is a phrase used by Quintilian. Steevens. A similar expression is found in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590: “The man that in the forehead of his fortunes “Beares figures of renowne and miracle.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “So rich advantage of a promis'd glory, “As smiles upon the forehead of this action.” Malone.

Note return to page 578 4And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace;] Soft is the reading of the folio. Johnson. This apology, if addressed to his mistress, had been well expressed. But what he wanted, in speaking before a Venetian senate, was not the soft blandishments of speech, but the art and method of masculine eloquence. The old quarto reads it, therefore, as I am persuaded Shakspeare wrote: “&lblank; the set phrase of peace.” Warburton. Soft may have been used for still and calm, as opposed to the clamours of war. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; Say to them, “Thou art their soldier, and, being bred in broils, “Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess, “Were fit for thee to use.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; 'Tis a worthy deed, “And shall become you well, to entreat your captain “To soft and gentle speech.” Malone.

Note return to page 579 5Their dearest action &lblank;] That is, dear, for which much is paid, whether money or labour; dear action, is action performed at great expence, either of ease or safety. Johnson. Their dearest action is their most important action. See vol. vii. p. 208, and Timon of Athens, Act V. Sc. II. Malone. Instead of their dearest action, we should say in modern language, their best exertion. Steevens. I should give these words a more natural signification, and suppose that they mean—their favourite action, the action most dear to them. Othello says afterwards: “&lblank; I do agnize “A natural and prompt alacrity “I find in hardness.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 580 6&lblank; unvarnish'd &lblank;] The second quarto reads—unravished. Steevens.

Note return to page 581 7I won his daughter.] [The first quarto and folio—I won his daughter.] i. e. I won his daughter with: and so all the modern editors read, adopting an interpolation made by the editor of the second folio, who was wholly unacquainted with our poet's metre and phraseology. In Timon of Athens we have the same elliptical expression: “Who had the world as my confectionary, “The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men, “At duty, more than I could frame employment [for].” Again in Cymbeline, concluding speech but two: “Where indeed I slept not, though I had that was well worth watching [for].” See also, the note on that passage, where several other instances of a similar phraseology are collected. Malone. As my sentiments concerning the merits of the second folio are diametrically opposite to Mr. Malone's opinion of it, I have not displaced a grammatical to make room for an ungrammatical expression. What Mr. Malone has styled “similar phraseology,” I should not hesitate to call, in many instances, congeniality of omissions and blunders made by transcribers, players, or printers. The more I am become acquainted with the ancient copies, less confidence I am disposed to place in their authority, as often as they exhibit anomalous language, and defective metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 582 8Blush'd at herself;] Mr. Pope reads—at itself, but without necessity. Shakspeare, like other writers of his age, frequently uses the personal, instead of the neutral pronoun. Steevens.

Note return to page 583 9To vouch, &c.] The first folio unites this speech with the preceding one of Brabantio; and instead of certain reads wider. Steevens.

Note return to page 584 1&lblank; overt test,] Open proofs, external evidence. Johnson.

Note return to page 585 2&lblank; thin habits, &lblank; Of modern seeming,] Weak show of slight appearance. Johnson. So modern is generally used by Shakspeare. See vol. vi. p. 410. Malone. The first quarto reads: “These are thin habits, and poore likelyhoods “Of modern seemings you prefer against him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 586 3&lblank; the Sagittary,] So the folio here and in a former passage. The quarto in both places reads—the Sagittar. Malone. The Sagittary means the sign of the fictitious creature so called, i. e. an animal compounded of man and horse, and armed with a bow and quiver. See vol. viii. p. 431. Steevens.

Note return to page 587 4The trust, &c.] This line is wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 588 5&lblank; as truly &lblank;] The first quarto reads—as faithful. Steevens.

Note return to page 589 6I do confess, &c.] This line is omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 590 7And portance, &c.] I have restored— “And with it all my travel's history,” from the old edition. It is in the rest: “And portance in my travel's history.” Rymer, in his criticism on this play, has changed it to portents, instead of portance. Pope. Mr. Pope has restored a line to which there is a little objection, but which has no force. I believe portance was the author's word in some revised copy. I read thus: “Of being—sold “To slavery, of my redemption thence, “And portance in't; my travel's history.” My redemption from slavery, and behaviour in it. Jonhson. By—my portance in my travel's history, perhaps our author meant—my behaviour in my travels as described in any history of them. Portance is a word used in Coriolanus: “&lblank; took from you “The apprehension of his present portance, “Which gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion,” &c. Spenser, in the third canto of the second book of the Fairy Queen, likewise uses it: “But for in court gay portaunce he perceiv'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 591 8Wherein of antres vast, &c.] Discourses of this nature made the subject of the politest conversations, when voyages into, and discoveries of, the new world were all in vogue. So, when the Bastard Faulconbridge, in King John, describes the behaviour of upstart greatness, he makes one of the essential circumstances of it to be this kind of table-talk. The fashion then running altogether in this way, it is no wonder a young lady of quality should be struck with the history of an adventurer. So that Rymer, who professedly ridicules this whole circumstance, and the noble author of the Characteristicks, who more obliquely sneers at it, only expose their own ignorance. Warburton. Whoever ridicules this account of the progress of love, shows his ignorance, not only of history, but of nature and manners. It is no wonder that, in any age, or in any nation, a lady, recluse, timorous, and delicate, should desire to hear of events and scenes which she could never see, and should admire the man who had endured dangers, and performed actions, which, however great, were yet magnified by her timidity. Johnson. “&lblank; antres &lblank;” French, grottos. Pope. Caves and dens. Johnson.

Note return to page 592 9&lblank; and desarts idle,] Every mind is liable to absence and inadvertency, else Pope [who reads—desarts wild,] could never have rejected a word so poetically beautiful. Idle is an epithet used to express the infertility of the chaotick state, in the Saxon translation of the Pentateuch. Johnson. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Usurping ivy, briar, or idle moss.” Mr. Pope might have found the epithet wild in all the three last folios. Steevens. The epithet, idle, which the ignorant editor of the second folio did not understand, and therefore changed to wild, is confirmed by another passage in this Act: “&lblank; either to have it steril with idleness, or manured with industry.” Malone. Virgil employs ignavus in the same way: &lblank; Iratus sylvam devexit arator, Et nemora evertit multos ignava per annos. Georg. II. v. 207. Holt White.

Note return to page 593 1It was my hint to speak,] This implies it as done by a trap laid for her: but the old quarto reads hent, i. e. use, custom. [Hint is the reading of the folio.] Warburton. Hent is not use in Shakspeare, nor, I believe, in any other author. Hint, or cue, is commonly used for occasion of speech, which is explained by, such is the process, that is, the course of the tale required it. If hent be restored, it may be explained by handle. I had a handle, or opportunity, to speak of cannibals. Johnson. Hent occurs at the conclusion of the fourth Act of Measure for Measure. It is derived from the Saxon Hentan, and means to take hold of, to seize: “&lblank; the gravest citizens “Have hent the gates.” But in p. 265, Othello says: “&lblank; Upon this hint I spake.” It is certain therefore that change is unnecessary. Steevens.

Note return to page 594 2&lblank; men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders,] Of these men there is an account in the interpolated Travels of Mandeville, a book of that time. Johnson. The Cannibals and Anthropophagi were known to an English audience before Shakspeare introduced them. In The History of Orlando Furioso, played for the entertainment of Queen Elizabeth, they are mentioned in the very first scene; and Raleigh speaks of people whose heads appear not above their shoulders. Again, in the tragedy of Locrine, 1595: “Or where the bloody Anthropophagi, “With greedy jaws devour the wandring wights.” The poet might likewise have read of them in Pliny's Natural History, translated by P. Holland, 1601, and in Stowe's Chronicle. Steevens. Histories (says Bernard Gilpin, in a Sermon before Edward VI.) make mention of a “people called Anthropophagi, eaters of men.” Reed. Our poet has again in The Tempest mentioned “men whose heads stood in their breasts.” He had in both places probably Hackluyt's Voyages, 1598, in view:—“On that branch which is called Caora, are a nation of people whose heades appeare not above their shoulders:—they are reported to have their eyes in their shoulders, and their mouthes in the middle of their breasts.” Raleigh also has given an account of men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders, in his Description of Guiana, published in 1596, a book that without doubt Shakspeare had read. Hall in his Quo Vadis, speaking of the absurd narrations of travellers, mentions those “headlesse Easterne people that have their eyes in their breasts, a misconceit arising from the fashion of their attire, which I have sometimes seene.” Malone.

Note return to page 595 *Quarto, this to hear.

Note return to page 596 3&lblank; and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse:] So, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, written before 1593: “Hang both your greedy ears upon my lips; “Let them devour my speech.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. vi. ch. ix.: “Whylest thus he talkt, the knight with greedy eare “Hong still upon his melting mouth attent.” Malone. Both these phrases occur in Tully, “Non semper implet aures meas, ita sunt avidæ et capaces.” Orat. 104. “Nos hinc voramus literas &lblank;.” Ad. Attic. iv. 14. Auribus avidis captare, may also be found in Ovid, De Ponto. Steevens. Iliacosque iterum demens audire labores Exposcit, pendetque iterum narrantis ab ore. Virg. M. Mason.

Note return to page 597 4But not intentively:] Thus the eldest quarto. The first folio reads—instinctively; the second—distinctively. The old word, however, may stand—intention and attention were once synonymous. So, in a play called The Isle of Gulls, 1606: “Grace! at sitting down, they cannot intend it for hunger.” i. e. attend to it. Desdemona, who was often called out of the room on the score of house-affairs, could not have heard Othello's tale intentively, i. e. with attention to all its parts. Again, in Chapman's version of the Iliad, b. vi.: “Hector intends his brother's will; but first,” &c. Again, in the Tenth Book: “&lblank; all with intentive ear “Converted to the enemies' tents &lblank;.” Again, in the eighth book of the Odyssey: “For our ships know th' expressed minds of men; “And will so most intentively retaine “Their scopes appointed, that they never erre.” Again, in a very scarce book entitled A Courtlie Controversie of Cupids Cautels: Conteyning Fiue Tragicall Histories, &c. Translated out of French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton] 4to. 1578: “These speeches collected ententively by a friend,” &c. Steevens. Shakspeare has already used the word in the same sense in his Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; she did course over my exteriors with such a greedy intention.” See also Timon of Athens, Act II. Sc. II. Distinctively was the conjectural emendation of the editor of the second folio, who never examined a single quarto copy. Malone. So in Cockeram's Dictionary of Hard Words: “Intentive, that listeneth.” Boswell.

Note return to page 598 5&lblank; a world of sighs:] It was kisses in the later editions: but this is evidently the true reading. The lady had been forward indeed to give him a world of kisses upon a bare recital of his story; nor does it agree with the following lines. Pope. Sighs is the reading of the quarto 1622; kisses of the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 599 6She swore,—In faith, 'twas strange, &c.] Here (as on a former occasion respecting the prophecies that induced the ruin of Macbeth,) the reader must be indebted to Mr. Whitaker's zealous and powerful Vindication of Mary Queen of Scots, 8vo. vol. ii. p. 457, edit. 1790: “Let not the modern reader be hurt here and and in paragraph X. at a Lady, a Queen, and a Mary, swearing. To aver upon faith and honour, was then called swearing, equally with a solemn appeal to God; and considered as the same with it.” This is plain from the passage immediately before us: “I swear, —upon my faith and honour,” she says expressly. She also says she does this “again;” thus referring to the commencement of this letter, where she “appeals to her God as witness.” And thus Shakspeare makes Othello to represent Desdemona, as acting; in a passage that I have often condemned, before I saw this easy explanation of it, as one among many proofs of Shakspeare's inability to exhibit the delicate graces of female conversation: “She swore,” &c. This remark, therefore, serves at once to justify Desdemona and Queen Mary, and to show what kind of swearing is used by both; not a bold and masculine oath put into the mouth of Desdemona, such as Elizabeth frequently used, but a more earnest affirmation upon her faith and honour, which she considered as the same with a solemn appeal to God. Steevens.

Note return to page 600 7Destruction, &c.] The quartos read—Destruction light on me. Steevens.

Note return to page 601 8&lblank; you are the lord of duty,] The first quarto reads—you are lord of all my duty. Steevens.

Note return to page 602 9And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, &c.] Perhaps Shakspeare had here in his thoughts the answer of the youngest daughter of Ina, King of the West Saxons, to her father, which he seems to have copied in King Lear. See the Preliminary Remarks on that play. Malone.

Note return to page 603 1Which, &c.] This line is omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 604 2Let me speak like yourself;] The Duke seems to mean, when he says he will speak like Brabantio, that he will speak sententiously. Johnson. “Let me speak like yourself;” i. e. let me speak as yourself would speak, were you not too much heated with passion. Sir J. Reynolds.

Note return to page 605 3&lblank; as a grise,] Grize from degrees. A grize is a step. So, in Timon: “&lblank; for every grize of fortune “Is smooth'd by that below &lblank;.” Ben Jonson, in his Sejanus, gives the original word: “Whom when he saw lie spread on the degrees.” In the will of King Henry VI. where the dimensions of King's College chapel at Cambridge are set down, the word occurs, as spelt in some of the old editions of Shakspeare: “&lblank; from the provost's stall, unto the greece called Gradus Chori, 90 feet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 606 4Into your favour.] This is wanting in the folio, but found in the quarto. Johnson.

Note return to page 607 5When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,] This our poet has elsewhere expressed [in Love's Labour's Lost, vol. iv. p. 405,] by a common proverbial sentence, “Past cure is still past care.” Malone.

Note return to page 608 6&lblank; new mischief on.] The quartos read—more mischief. Steevens.

Note return to page 609 7But the free comfort which from thence he hears:] But the moral precepts of consolation, which are liberally bestowed on occasion of the sentence. Johnson.

Note return to page 610 8But words are words; I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.] The Duke had by sage sentences been exhorting Brabantio to patience, and to forget the grief of his daughter's stolen marriage, to which Brabantio is made very pertinently to reply to this effect: “My lord, I apprehend very well the wisdom of your advice; but though you would comfort me, words are but words; and the heart, already bruised, was never pierced, or wounded, through the ear.” It is obvious that the text must be restored thus: “That the bruis'd heart was pieced through the ear.” i. e. that the wounds of sorrow were ever cured, or a man made heart-whole merely by the words of consolation. Warburton. Shakspeare was continually changing his first expression for another, either stronger or more uncommon; so that very often the reader who has not the same continuity or succession of ideas, is at a loss for its meaning. Many of Shakspeare's uncouth strained epithets may be explained, by going back to the obvious and simple expression, which is most likely to occur to the mind in that state. I can imagine the first mode of expression that occurred to the poet was this: “The troubled, heart was never cured by words.” To give it poetical force, he altered the phrase: “The wounded heart was never reached through the ear.” Wounded heart he changed to broken, and that to bruised, as a more common expression. Reached he altered to touched, and the transition is then easy to pierced, i. e. thoroughly touched. When the sentiment is brought to this state, the commentator, without this unravelling clue, expounds piercing the heart in its common acceptation wounding the heart, which making in this place nonsense, is corrected to pieced the heart, which is very stiff, and, as Polonius says, is a vile phrase. Sir J. Reynolds. Pierced may be right. The consequence of a bruise is sometimes matter collected, and this can no way be cured without piercing or letting it out. Thus, in Hamlet: “It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, “Whiles rank corruption mining all within, “Infects unseen.” Again: “This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, “That inward breaks, and shows no cause without, “Why the man dies.” Our author might have had in his memory the following quaint title of an old book: i. e. “A lytell treatyse called the dysputacyon, or the complaynte of the herte through perced with the lokynge of the eye. Imprynted at Lond&obar; in Fletestrete at ye sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de Worde.” Again, in A newe and a mery Interlude concernyng Pleasure and Payne in Love, made by Ihon. Heywood: Fol. Rastal, 1534: “Thorough myne erys dyrectly to myne harte “Percyth his wordys evyn lyke as many sperys.” Steevens. “But words are words; I never yet did hear, “That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.” These moral precepts, says Brabantio, may perhaps be founded in wisdom, but they are of no avail. Words after all are but words; and I never yet heard that consolatory speeches could reach and penetrate the afflicted heart, through the medium of the ear. Brabantio here expresses the same sentiment as the father of Hero in Much Ado About Nothing, when he derides the attempts of those comforters who in vain endeavour to— “Charm ache with air, and agony with words.” Our author has in various places shown a fondness for this antithesis between the heart and ear. Thus, in his Venus and Adonis: “This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, “Through which it enters, to surprise her heart.” Again, in Much Ado About Nothing: “My cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.” Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; I have such a heart as both mine ears “Must not in haste abuse.” Again, in his Rape of Lucrece: “His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth “No penetrable entrance to her plaining.” A doubt has been entertained concerning the word pierced, which Dr. Warburton supposed to mean wounded, and therefore substituted pieced in its room. But pierced is merely a figurative expression, and means not wounded but penetrated, in a metaphorical sense; thoroughly affected; as in the following passage in Shakspeare's 46th Sonnet: “My heart doth plead, that thou in him dost lie; “A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes.” So also, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.” Again, in his Rape of Lucrece: “With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear.” In a word, a heart pierced through the ear, is a heart which (to use our poet's words elsewhere,) has granted a penetrable entrance to the language of consolation. So, in The Mirrour for Magistrates, 1575: “My piteous plaint—the hardest heart may pierce.” Spenser has used the word exactly in the same figurative sense in which it is here employed; Fairy Queen, b. vi. c. ix.: “Whylest thus he talkt, the knight with greedy eare “Hong still upon his melting mouth attent; “Whose sensefull words empierst his hart so neare, “That he was rapt with double ravishment.” And, in his fourth book, c. viii. we have the very words of the text: “Her words &lblank; “Which, passing through the eares, would pierce the hart.” Some persons have supposed that pierced, when applied metaphorically to the heart, can only be used to express pain; that the poet might have said, pierced with grief, or pierced with plaints, &c. but that to talk of piercing a heart with consolatory speeches, is a catachresis: but the passage above quoted from Spenser's sixth book shows that there is no ground for the objection. So also, in Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590, we find— “Nor thee nor them, thrice noble Tamburlaine, “Shall want my heart to be with gladness pierc'd.” Malone. If any further authority were required for this expression, it may be found in Milton's Ode at a Solemn Musick: “Blest pair of Syrens, pledges of heaven's joy, “Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, “Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power, employ “Dead things with unbreath'd sense, able to pierce &lblank;.” Boswell.

Note return to page 611 *Quarto, beseech you now to the affairs of the state.

Note return to page 612 9&lblank; to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes &lblank;] To slubber, on this occasion, is to obscure. So, in the First Part of Jeronimo, &c. 1605: “The evening too begins to slubber day.” The latter part of this metaphor has already occurred in Macbeth: “&lblank; golden opinions &lblank; “Which should be worn now in their newest gloss.” Steevens.

Note return to page 613 1&lblank; thrice driven bed of down:] A driven bed, is a bed for which the feathers are selected, by driving with a fan, which separates the light from the heavy. Johnson.

Note return to page 614 2&lblank; I do agnize &lblank;] i. e. acknowledge, confess, avow. So, in A Summarie Report, &c. of the Speaker relative to Mary Queen of Scots, 4to. 1586: “&lblank; a repentant convert, agnising her Maiesties great mercie,” &c. Again, in the old play of Cambyses: “The tenor of your princely will, from you for to agnise.” In this instance, however, it signifies to know; as likewise in the following, from the same piece: “Why so? I pray you let me agnize.” It is so defined [i. e. to acknowledge] in Bullokar's English Expositor, 8vo. 1616. Malone.

Note return to page 615 3These present wars: &lblank;] The quarto, 1622, and the folio, by an error of the press, have—this present wars. For the emendation I am responsible. Malone.

Note return to page 616 4I crave fit disposition for my wife; Due reference of place, and exhibition, &c.] I desire, that proper disposition be made for my wife, that she may have precedency and revenue, accommodation and company, suitable to her rank. For reference of place, the old quartos have reverence, which Sir Thomas Hanmer has received. I should read: “Due preference of place &lblank;.” Johnson. Exhibition is allowance. The word is at present used only at the universities. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “What maintenance he from his friends receives, “Like exhibition thou shalt have from me.” Again, in King Edward IV. by Heywood, 1626: “Of all the exhibition yet bestow'd, “This woman's liberality likes me best.” Steevens. So, in King Lear, Act I. Sc. I.: “&lblank; Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted, “And the king gone to night! subscrib'd his power, “Confin'd to exhibition!” Malone.

Note return to page 617 5&lblank; Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend a gracious ear;] Thus the quarto, 1622. The folio, to avoid the repetition of the same epithet, reads—your prosperous ear; i. e. your propitious ear. Steevens.

Note return to page 618 6&lblank; a charter in your voice,] Let your favour privilege me. Johnson.

Note return to page 619 7To assist my simpleness.] The first quarto reads this as an unfinished sentence: “And if my simpleness &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 620 8My downright violence and storm of fortunes &lblank;] Violence is not violence suffered, but violence acted. Breach of common rules and obligations. The old quarto has scorn of fortune, which is perhaps the true reading. Johnson. The same mistake of scorn for storm had also happened in the old copies of Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; as when the sun doth light a scorn,” instead of a—storm. See vol. viii. p. 231, and King Lear, Act III. Sc. I. I am also inclined to read—storm of fortunes, on account of the words that follow, viz. “May trumpet to the world.” So, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “&lblank; the southern wind “Doth play the trumpet to his purposes.” I concur with Dr. Johnson in his explanation of the passage before us. Mr. M. Mason is of the same opinion, and properly observes, that by the storm of fortune, “the injuries of fortune” are not meant, “but Desdemona's high-spirited braving of her.” Steevens. So, in King Henry VIII.: “An old man broken with the storms of state.” The expression in the text is found in Spenser's Fairy Queen, book vi. c. ix.: “Give leave awhile, good father, in this shore “To reste my barcke, which hath bene beaten late “With stormes of fortune and tempestuous fate.” And Bacon, in his History of King Henry the Seventh, has used the same language: “The king in his account of peace and calms did much overcast his fortunes, which proved for many years together full of broken seas, tides, and tempests.” Mr. M. Mason objects, that Mr. Steevens has not explained these words. Is any explanation wanting? or can he, who has read in Hamlet, that a judicious player “in the tempest and whirlwind of his passion should acquire and beget a temperance;” who has heard Falstaff wish for a tempest of provocation; and finds in Troilus and Cressida—“in the wind and tempest of her frown,” be at a loss to understand the meaning of a storm of fortunes? By her downright violence and storm of fortunes Desdemona without doubt means, the bold and decisive measure she had taken, of following the dictates of passion, and giving herself to the Moor; regardless of her parent's displeasure, the forms of her country, and the future inconvenience she might be subject to, by “tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, in an extravagant and wheeling stranger, of here and every where.” On looking into Mr. Edwards's remarks, I find he explains these words nearly in the same manner. “Downright violence, (says he,) means, the unbridled impetuosity with which her passion hurried her on to this unlawful marriage; and storm of fortunes may signify the hazard she thereby ran, of making shipwreck of her worldly interest. Both very agreeable to what she says a little lower— “&lblank; to his honours, and his valiant parts, “Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.” Malone. All I can collect from Mr. Malone's explanation is, that Shakspeare has made use of the word tempest in three different passages, none of which are applicable to that in question. M. Mason.

Note return to page 621 9&lblank; my heart's subdued Even to, &c.] So, in one of the Letters falsely imputed to Mary Queen of Scots: “&lblank; and my thoghtes are so willyngly subduit unto yours,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 622 1Even to the very quality of my lord:] The first quarto reads— “Even to the utmost pleasure,” &c. Steevens. Quality here means profession. “I am so much enamoured of Othello, that I am even willing to endure all the inconveniencies incident to a military life, and to attend him to the wars.”— “I cannot mervaile, (said Lord Essex to Mr. Ashton, a Puritan preacher who was sent to him in the Tower,) though my protestations are not believed of my enemies, when they so little prevailed with a man of your quality.” That this is the meaning, appears not only from the reading of the quarto,—“my heart's subdued, even to the utmost pleasure of my lord, i, e. so as to prompt me to go with him wherever he wishes I should go,” but also from the whole tenour of Desdemona's speech; the purport of which is, that as she had married a soldier, so she was ready to accompany him to the wars, and to consecrate her soul and fortunes to his honours, and his valiant parts: i. e. to attend him wherever his military character and his love of fame should call him. Malone. That quality here signifies the Moorish complexion of Othello, and his military profession, is obvious from what immediately follows: “I saw Othello's visage in his mind:” and also from what the Duke says to Brabantio: “If virtue no delighted beauty lack, “Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.” Desdemona, in this speech, asserts, that the virtues of Othello had subdued her heart, in spite of his visage; and that, to his rank and accomplishments as a soldier, she had consecrated her soul and her fortunes. Henley.

Note return to page 623 2I saw Othello's visage in his mind;] It must raise no wonder, that I loved a man of an appearance so little engaging; I saw his face only in his mind; the greatness of his character reconciled me to his form. Johnson.

Note return to page 624 3Your voices, lords:] The folio reads,—Let her have your voice. Steevens.

Note return to page 625 4Vouch with me, heaven;] Thus the second quarto and the folio. Steevens. These words are not in the original copy, 1622. Malone.

Note return to page 626 5Nor to comply with heat, the young affects, In my distinct and proper satisfaction;] [Old copies— defunct.] As this has been hitherto printed and stopped, it seems to me a period of as stubborn nonsense as the editors have obtruded upon poor Shakspeare throughout his works. What a preposterous creature is this Othello made, to fall in love with and marry a fine young lady, when appetite and heat, and proper satisfaction, are dead and defunct in him! (For, defunct signifies nothing else, that I know of, either primitively or metaphorically:) But if we may take Othello's own word in the affair, he was not reduced to this fatal state: “&lblank; or, for I am declin'd “Into the vale of years; yet that's not much.” Again, Why should our poet say, (for so he says as the passage has been pointed) that the young affect heat? Youth, certainly, has it, and has no occasion or pretence of affecting it. And, again, after defunct, would he add so absurd a collateral epithet as proper? But affects was not designed here as a verb, and defunct was not designed here at all. I have by reading distinct for defunct, rescued the poet's text from absurdity; and this I take to be the tenor of what he would say: “I do not beg her company with me, merely to please myself; nor to indulge the heat and affects (i. e. affections) of a new-married man, in my own distinct and proper satisfaction; but to comply with her in her request, and desire, of accompanying me.” Affects for affections, our author in several other passages uses. Theobald. “Nor to comply with heat, the young affects “In my defunct and proper satisfaction:” i. e. with that heat and new affections which the indulgence of my appetite has raised and created. This is the meaning of defunct, which has made all the difficulty of the passage. Warburton. I do not think that Mr. Theobald's emendation clears the text from embarrassment, though it is with a little imaginary improvement received by Sir Thomas Hanmer, who reads thus: “Nor to comply with heat affects the young “In my distinct and proper satisfaction” Dr. Warburton's explanation is not more satisfactory: what made the difficulty will continue to make it. I read: “&lblank; I beg it not, “To please the palate of my appetite, “Nor to comply with heat (the young affects “In me defunct) and proper satisfaction; “But to be free and bounteous to her mind.” Affects stands here, not for love, but for passions, for that by which any thing is affected. I ask it not, says he, to please appetite, or satisfy loose desires, the passions of youth which I have now outlived, or “for any particular gratification of myself, but merely that I may indulge the wishes of my wife.” Mr. Upton had, before me, changed my to me; but he has printed young effects, not seeming to know that affects could be a noun. Johnson. Mr. Theobald has observed the impropriety of making Othello confess that all youthful passions were defunct in him; and Sir Thomas Hanmer's reading [distinct] may, I think, be received with only a slight alteration. I would read: “&lblank; I beg it not, “To please the palate of my appetite, “Nor to comply with heat, and young affects, “In my distinct and proper satisfaction; “But to be,” &c. Affects stands for affections, and is used in that sense by Ben Jonson, in The Case is Altered, 1609: “&lblank; I shall not need to urge “The sacred purity of our affects.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “For every man with his affects is born.” Again, in The Wars of Cyrus, 1594: “The frail affects and errors of my youth.” Again, in Middleton's Inner Temple Masque, 1619: “No doubt affects will be subdu'd by reason.” There is, however, in The Bondman, by Massinger, a passage which seems to countenance and explain— “&lblank; the young affects “In me defunct “&lblank; youthful heats, “That look no further than your outward form, “Are long since buried in me.” Timoleon is the speaker. In King Henry V. also, we have the following passage: “The organs, though defunct and dead before, “Break up their drowsy grave &lblank;.” Steevens. I would venture to make the two last lines change places: “&lblank; I therefore beg it not, “To please the palate of my appetite, “Nor to comply with heat, the young affects; “But to be free and bounteous to her mind, “In my defunct and proper satisfaction.” And would then recommend it to consideration, whether the word defunct (which would be the only remaining difficulty,) is not capable of a signification, drawn from the primitive sense of its Latin original, which would very well agree with the context. Tyrwhitt. I would propose to read—In my defenc't, or defenc'd, &c. i. e. I do not beg her company merely to please the palate of my appetite, nor to comply with the heat of lust which the young man affects, i. e. loves and is fond of, in a gratification which I have by marriage defenc'd, or inclosed and guarded, and made my own property. Unproper beds, in this play, means, beds not peculiar or appropriate to the right owner, but common to their occupiers. In The Merry Wives of Windsor the marriage vow was represented by Ford as the ward and defence of purity or conjugal fidelity: “I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, and a thousand other her defences, which are now too strongly embattled against me.” The word affect is more generally, among ancient authors, taken in the construction which I have given to it, than as Mr. Theobald would interpret it. It is so in this very play: “Not to affect many proposed matches,” means not to like, or be fond of many proposed matches. I am persuaded that the word defunct must be at all events ejected. Othello talks here of his appetite, and it is very plain that Desdemona to her death was fond of him after wedlock, and that he loved her. How then could his conjugal desires be dead or defunct? or how could they be defunct or discharged and performed when the marriage was consummated? Tollet. Othello here supposes, that his petition for the attendance of his bride, might be ascribed to one of these two motives:—either solicitude for the enjoyment of an unconsummated and honourable marriage;—or the mere gratification of a sensual and selfish passion. But, as neither was the true one, he abjures them both: “Vouch with me heaven, I therefore beg it not “To please the palate of my appetite; “Nor to comply with heat (&lblank; “&lblank;) and proper satisfaction.” The former having nothing in it unbecoming, he simply disclaims; but the latter, ill according with his season of life (for Othello was now declined into the vale of years) he assigns a reason for renouncing— “&lblank; the young affects, “In me defunct &lblank;. As if he had said, “I have outlived that wayward impulse of passion, by which younger men are stimulated:” those “&lblank; youthful heats, “That look no further than the outward form, “Are long since buried in me.” The supreme object of my heart is— “&lblank; to be free and bounteous to her mind.” By young affects, the poet clearly means those “youthful lusts” [&grt;&gra;&grst; &grN;&grE;&grW;&grT;&grE;&grR;&grI;&grK;&grA;&grST; &gre;&grp;&gri;&grq;&grua;&grm;&grig;&gra;&grst;, cupiditates rei novæ, thence Juveniles, and therefore effrenas cupiditates,] which St. Paul admonishes Timothy to flee from, and the Romans to mortify. Henley. For the emendation now offered (disjunct) I am responsible. Some emendation is absolutely necessary, and this appears to me the least objectionable of those which have been proposed. Dr. Johnson, in part following Mr. Upton, reads and regulates the passage thus: “Not to comply with heat (the young affects “In me defunct) and proper satisfaction.” To this reading there are, I think, three strong objections. The first is, the suppression of the word being before defunct, which is absolutely necessary to the sense, and of which the omission is so harsh that it affords an argument against the probability of the proposed emendation. The second and the grand objection is, that it is highly improbable that Othello should declare on the day of his marriage that heat and the youthful affections were dead or defunct in him; that he had outlived the passions of youth. He himself (as Mr. Theobald has observed,) informs us afterwards, that he is “declined into the vale of years;” but adds, at the same time, “yet that's not much.” This surely is a decisive proof that the text is corrupt. My third objection to this regulation is, that by the introduction of a parenthesis, which is not found in the old copies, the words and proper satisfaction are so unnaturally disjoined from those with which they are connected in sense, as to form a most lame and impotent conclusion; to say nothing of the aukwardness of using the word proper without any possessive pronoun prefixed to it. All these difficulties are done away, by retaining the original word my, and reading disjunct, instead of defunct; and the meaning will be, ‘I ask it not for the sake of my separate and private enjoyment, by the gratification of appetite, but that I may indulge the wishes of my wife.’ The young affects, my either mean the affections or passions of youth, (considering affects as a substantive,) or these words may be connected with heat, which immediately precedes: “I ask it not, for the purpose of gratifying that appetite which peculiarly stimulates the young.” So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. ix.: “Layes of sweete love, and youth's delightful heat.” Mr. Tyrwhitt “recommends it to consideration, whether the word defunct, is not capable of a signification, drawn from the primitive sense of its Latin original, which would very well agree with the context.” The mere English reader is to be informed, that defunctus in Latin signifies performed, accomplished, as well as dead: but is it probable that Shakspeare was apprized of its bearing that signification? In Bullokar's English Expositor, 8vo. 1616, the work of a physician and a scholar, defunct is only defined by the word dead; nor has it, I am confident, any other meaning annexed to it in any dictionary or book of the time. Besides; how, as Mr. Tollet has observed, could his conjugal duties be said to be discharged or performed, at a time when his marriage was not yet consummated?—On this last circumstance, however, I do not insist, as Shakspeare is very licentious in the use of participles, and might have employed the past for the present: but the former objection appears to me fatal. Proper is here and in other places used for peculiar. In this play we have unproper beds; not peculiar to the rightful owner, but common to him and others. In the present tragedy we have many more uncommon words than disjunct: as facile, agnize, acerb, sequestration, injointed, congregated, guttered, sequent, extincted, exsufflicate, indign, segregated, &c.—Iago in a subsequent scene says to Othello, “let us be conjunctive in our revenge;” and our poet has conjunct in King Lear, and disjoin and disjunctive in two other plays. In King John we have adjunct used as an adjective: “Though that my death be adjunct to the act &lblank;.” and in Hamlet we find disjoint employed in like manner: “Or thinking &lblank; “Our state to be disjoint, and out of frame.” Malone. As it is highly probable this passage will prove a lasting source of doubt and controversy, the remarks of all the commentators are left before the publick. Sir Thomas Hanmer's distinct, however, appearing to me as apposite a change as Mr. Malone's synonymous disjunct, I have placed the former in our text, though perhaps the old reading ought not to have been disturbed, as in the opinion of more than one critick it has been satisfactorily explained by Dr. Johnson and Mr. Henley. Steevens.

Note return to page 627 6&lblank; defend, &c.] To defend, is to forbid. So, in Chaucer's Wife of Bathes Prologue, Mr. Tyrwhitt's edit, ver. 5641: “Wher can ye seen in any maner age “That highe God defended mariage, “By expresse word?” From defendre, Fr. Steevens.

Note return to page 628 7&lblank; when light-wing'd toys Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness My speculative and active instruments,] Thus the folio, except that instead of active instruments, it has offic'd instrument. Speculative instruments, in Shakspeare's language, are the eyes; and active instruments, the hands and feet. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; where, the other instruments “Did see, hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,” &c. To seel is to close the eyelids of a hawk by running a thread through them. As it is here metaphorically used, it applies very properly to the speculative instruments; but foils, the reading of the quarto, agrees better with active instruments, Wanton dulness is ‘dulness arising from wanton indulgences.’ Malone. For a particular explanation of the verb—to seel, the reader is referred to Macbeth, Act III. Sc. II. The quarto reads: “&lblank; when light-wing'd toys “And feather'd Cupid foils with wanton dulness “My speculative and active instruments &lblank;.” All these words (in either copy) mean no more than this:— When the pleasures and idle toys of love make me unfit either for seeing the duties of my office, or for the ready performance of them, &c. So, in Chapman's translation of the eighteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: “&lblank; and were palsied “In his mind's instruments &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 629 8&lblank; my estimation!] Thus the folio; the quarto—reputation. Steevens.

Note return to page 630 9If virtue no delighted beauty lack,] The meaning, I believe, is, if virtue comprehends every thing in itself, then your virtuous son-in-law of course is beautiful: he has that beauty which delights every one. Delighted, for delighting; Shakspeare often uses the active and passive particles indiscriminately. Of this practice I have already given many instances. The same sentiment seems to occur in Twelfth-Night: “In nature is no blemish, but the mind; “None can be call'd deform'd; but the unkind: “Virtue is beauty &lblank;.” Steevens. Delighted is used by Shakspeare in the sense of delighting, or delightful. See Cymbeline, Act V.: “Whom best I love, I cross, to make my gift, “The more delay'd, delighted.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 631 1&lblank; have a quick eye to see;] Thus the eldest quarto. The folio reads: “&lblank; if thou hast eyes to see.” Steevens.

Note return to page 632 2And bring them after &lblank;] Thus the folio. The quarto, 1622, reads—and bring her after. Malone.

Note return to page 633 3&lblank; best advantage.] Fairest opportunity. Johnson.

Note return to page 634 4I have looked upon the world for four times seven years:] From this Passage Iago's age seems to be ascertained; and it corresponds with the account in the novel on which Othello is founded, where he is described as a young, handsome man. The French translator of Shakspeare is, however, of opinion, that Iago here only speaks of those years of his life in which he had looked on the world with an eye of observation. But it would be difficult to assign a reason why he should mention the precise term of twenty-eight years; or to account for his knowing so accurately when his understanding arrived at maturity, and the operation of his sagacity, and his observations on mankind commenced. That Iago meant to say he was but twenty-eight years old, is clearly ascertained, by his marking particularly, though indefinitely, a period within that time, [“and since I could distinguish,” &c.] when he began to make observations on the characters of men. Waller on a picture which was painted for him in his youth, by Cornelius Jansen, and which is now in the possession of his heir, has expressed the same thought; “Anno ætatis 23; vitæ vix primo.” Malone.

Note return to page 635 5&lblank; a Guinea-hen,] A showy bird with fine feathers. Johnson. A Guinea-hen was anciently the cant-term for a prostitute. So, in Albertus Wallenstein, 1640: “&lblank; Yonder's the cock o'the game, “About to tread yon Guinea-hen; they're billing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 636 6&lblank; either to have it steril with idleness,] Thus the authentick copies. The modern editors following the second folio, have omitted the word to.—I have frequently had occasion to remark that Shakspeare often begins a sentence in one way, and ends it in a different kind of construction. Here he has made Iago say, if we will plant, &c. and he concludes, as if he had written—if our will is—either to have it, &c. See p. 255, n. 1. Malone. See Tempest, Act I. Sc. II. where the remark on which the foregoing note is founded was originally made. Steevens.

Note return to page 637 7If the balance, &c.] The folio reads—If the brain. Probably a mistake for—beam. Steevens.

Note return to page 638 8&lblank; reason to cool &lblank; our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts;] So, in A Knack to Know An Honest Man, 1596: “&lblank; Virtue never taught thee that; “She sets a bit upon her bridled lusts.” See also As You Like It, Act II. Sc. VI.: “For thou thyself hast been a libertine; “As sensual as the brutish sting itself.” Malone.

Note return to page 639 9&lblank; a sect, or scion.] Thus the folio and quarto. A sect is what the more modern gardeners call a cutting. The modern editors read—a set. Steevens.

Note return to page 640 1&lblank; I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness;] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts “With an unslipping knot.” Again, in our author's 26th Sonnet: “Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage “Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit.” Malone.

Note return to page 641 2&lblank; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard;] To defeat, is to undo, to change. Johnson. Defeat is from defaire, Fr. to undo. Of the use of this word I have already given several instances. Steevens. Favour here means that combination of features which gives the face its distinguishing character. Defeat, from defaire, in French, signifies to unmake, decompose, or give a different appearance to, either by taking away something, or adding. Thus, in Don Quixote, Cardenio defeated his favour by cutting off his beard, and the Barber his, by putting one on. The beard which Mr. Ashton usurped when he escaped from the Tower, gave so different an appearance to his face, that he passed through his guards without the least suspicion. In the Winter's Tale, Autolycus had recourse to an expedient like Cardenio's, (as appears from the pocketing up his pedlar's excrement,) to prevent his being known in the garb of the prince. Henley. To defeat, Minsheu, in his Dictionary, 1617, explains by the words—“to abrogate, to undo.” See also Florio's Italian Dictionary, 1598: “Disfacere. To undoe, to marre, to unmake, to defeat.” Malone.

Note return to page 642 3&lblank; it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration;] There seems to be an opposition of terms here intended, which has been lost in transcription. We may read, “it was a violent conjunction, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration;” or, what seems to me preferable, “it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequel.” Johnson. I believe the poet uses sequestration for sequel. He might conclude that it was immediately derived from sequor. Sequestration, however, may mean no more than separation. So, in this play—“a sequester from liberty.” Steevens. Surely sequestration was used in the sense of separation only, or in modern language, parting. It is explained in Bullokar's Dictionary —a putting apart. “Their passion began with violence, and it shall end as quickly, of which a separation will be the consequence.” A total and voluntary sequestration necessarily includes the cessation or end of affection.—We have the same thought in several other places. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “These violent delights have violent ends, “And in their triumph die.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Thy violent vanities can never last.” I have here followed the first quarto. The folio reads—“it was a violent commencement in her,” &c. The context shows that the original is the true reading. Othello's love for Desdemona has been just mentioned, as well as her's for the Moor. Malone.

Note return to page 643 4&lblank; as luscious as locusts, &lblank; as bitter as coloquintida.] The old quarto reads—as acerb as coloquintida. At Tonquin the insect locusts are considered as a great delicacy, not only by the poor but by the rich, and are sold in the markets, as larks and quails are in Europe. It may be added, that the Levitical law permits four sorts of them to be eaten. An anonymous correspondent informs me, that the fruit of the locust-tree, (which, I believe, is here meant,) is a long black pod, that contains the seeds, among which there is a very sweet luscious juice of much the same consistency as fresh honey. This (says he) I have often tasted. Steevens. That viscous substance which the pod of the locust contains, is, perhaps, of all others, the most luscious. From its likeness to honey, in consistency and flavour, the locust is called the honey-tree also. Its seeds, enclosed in a long pod, lie buried in the juice. Henley. Mr. Daines Barrington suggests to me, that Shakspeare perhaps had the third chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel in his thoughts, in which we are told that John the Baptist lived in the wilderness on locusts and wild honey. Malone. Coloquintida, says Bullein in his Bulwark of Defence, 1579, “is most bitter, white like a baule, full of seedes, leaves like to cucummers, hoat in the second, dry in the third degree.” He then gives directions for the application of it, and concludes, “and thus I do end of coloquyntida, which is most bitter, and must be taken with discretion. The Arabians do call it chandall.” Reed.

Note return to page 644 5&lblank; betwixt an erring barbarian &lblank;] We should read errant, that is, a vagabond, one that has no house nor country. Warburton. Sir T. Hanmer reads, arrant. Erring is as well as either. Johnson. So, in Hamlet: “Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies “To his confine.” Steevens. An erring Barbarian perhaps means a rover from Barbary. He had before said: “You'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse.” Malone. I rather conceive barbarian to be here used with its primitive sense of—a foreigner, as it is also in Coriolanus: “I would they were barbarians, (as they are,) “Though in Rome litter'd.” Steevens. The word erring is sufficiently explained by a passage in the first scene of the play, where Roderigo tells Brabantio that his daughter was— “Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortune “To an extravagant and wheeling stranger.” Erring is the same as erraticus in Latin. The word erring is used in the same sense in some of Orlando's verses in As You Like It: “Tongues I'll hang on every tree, “That shall civil sayings show. “Some, how brief the life of man “Runs his erring pilgrimage &lblank;.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 645 6&lblank; if I depend on the issue?] These words are wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 646 7&lblank; hearted;] This adjective occurs again in Act III.: “hearted “throne.” Dr. Johnson in his Dictionary has unguardedly said, that it is only used in composition; as, for instance, hard-hearted. Steevens.

Note return to page 647 8&lblank; conjunctive &lblank;] The first quarto reads, communicative. Steevens.

Note return to page 648 9Traverse;] This was an ancient military word of command. So, in King Henry IV. Part II. Bardolph says: “Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.” Steevens. Traverse, (says Bullokar) “to march up and down, or to move the feet with proportion, as in dancing.” Malone.

Note return to page 649 1&lblank; Do you hear, Roderigo?] In the folio, instead of this and the following speeches, we find only these words: “Iago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? “Rod. I'll sell all my land. [Exit. “Iago. Thus do I ever,” &c. The quarto, 1622, reads: “Iago. Go to; farewell:—do you hear, Roderigo? “Rod. What say you? “Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear. “Rod. I am chang'd. [Exit Rod. “Iago. Go to; farewell: put money enough in your purse.” “Thus do I ever,” &c. The reading of the text is formed out of the two copies. Malone.

Note return to page 650 2&lblank; a snipe,] Woodcock is the term generally used by Shakspeare to denote an insignificant fellow; but Iago is more sarcastick, and compares his dupe to a smaller and meaner bird of almost the same shape. Steevens.

Note return to page 651 3&lblank; as if for surety,] That is, “I will act as if I were certain of the fact.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 652 4&lblank; He holds me well;] i. e. esteems me. So, in St. Matthew, xxi. 26: “&lblank; all hold John as a prophet.” Again, in Hamlet: “Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood.” Reed.

Note return to page 653 5&lblank; to plume up, &c.] The first quarto reads—to make up, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 6The Moor is of a free and open nature,] The first quarto reads: “The Moor, a free and open nature too, “That thinks,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 655 7&lblank; in Cyprus.] All the modern editors, following Mr. Rowe, have supposed the capital of Cyprus to be the place where the scene of Othello lies during four Acts: but this could not have been Shakspeare's intention; Nicosia, the capital city of Cyprus, being situated nearly in the center of the island, and thirty miles distant from the sea. The principal sea-port town of Cyprus was Famagusta; where there was formerly a strong fort and commodious haven, the only one of any magnitude in the island; and there undoubtedly the scene should be placed. “Neere unto the haven (says Knolles,) standeth an old castle, with four towers after the ancient manner of building.” To this castle, we find Othello presently repairs. It is observable that Cinthio in the novel on which this play is founded, which was first published in 1565, makes no mention of any attack being made on Cyprus by the Turks. From our poet's having mentioned the preparations against this island, which they first assaulted and took from the Venetians in 1570, we may suppose that he intended that year as the era of his tragedy; but by mentioning Rhodes as also likely to be assaulted by the Turks, he has fallen into an historical inconsistency; for they were then in quiet possession of that island, of which they became masters in December, 1522; and if, to evade this difficulty, we refer Othello to an era prior to that year, there will be an equal incongruity; for from 1473, when the Venetians first became possessed of Cyprus, to 1522, they had not been molested by any Turkish armament. Malone.

Note return to page 656 8&lblank; 'twixt the heaven &lblank;] Thus the folio; but perhaps our author wrote—the heavens. The quarto, 1622, probably by a printer's error, has—haven. Steevens. The reading of the folio affords a bolder image; but the article prefixed strongly supports the original copy: for applied to heaven, it is extremely aukward. Besides; though in The Winter's Tale our poet has made a Clown talk of a ship boring the moon with her mainmast, and say that “between the sea and the firmament you cannot thrust a bodkin's point,” is it probable, that he should put the same hyperbolical language into the mouth of a gentleman, answering a serious question on an important occasion? In a subsequent passage indeed he indulges himself without impropriety in the elevated diction of poetry. Of the haven of Famagusta, which was defended from the main by two great rocks, at the distance of forty paces from each other, Shakspeare might have found a particular account in Knolles's History of the Turks, ad ann. 1570, p. 863. Malone.

Note return to page 657 9If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage “The gentle Thetis &lblank;.” Malone.

Note return to page 658 1&lblank; when mountains melt on them,] Thus the folio. The quarto reads: “&lblank; when the huge mountain melts.” This latter reading might be countenanced by the following passage in The Second Part of King Henry IV.: “&lblank; the continent, “Weary of solid firmness, melt itself “Into the sea &lblank;.” This phrase appears to have been adopted from the Book of Judges, chap. v. 5: “The mountains melted from before the Lord,” &c. Steevens. The quarto is surely the better reading; it conveys a more natural image, more poetically expressed. Every man who has been on board a vessel in the Bay of Biscay, or in any very high sea, must know that the vast billows seem to melt away from the ship, not on it. M. Mason. I would not wilfully differ from Mr. M. Mason concerning the value of these readings; yet surely the mortise of a ship is in greater peril when the watry mountain melts upon it, than when it melts from it. When the waves retreat from a vessel, it is safe. When they break over it, its structure is endangered. So, in Pericles Prince of Tyre: “&lblank; a sea “That almost burst the deck.” Steevens. The quarto, 1622, reads—when the huge mountaine meslt; the letter s, which perhaps belongs to mountain, having wandered at the press from its place. I apprehend, that in the quarto reading (as well as in the folio,) by mountains the poet meant not land-mountains, which Mr. Steevens seems by his quotation to have thought, but those huge surges, (resembling mountains in their magnitude,) which, “with high and monstrous main seem'd to cast water on the burning bear.” So, in a subsequent scene: “And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, “Olympus high &lblank;.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; and anon behold “The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cuts.” Malone. My remark on Mr. M. Mason's preceding note will show that I had no such meaning as Mr. Malone has imputed to me. All I aimed at was to parallel the idea in the quarto, of one mountain melting, instead of many. Steevens.

Note return to page 659 2&lblank; the foaming shore,] The elder quarto reads—banning shore, which offers the bolder image; i. e. the shore that execrates the ravage of the waves. So, in King Henry VI. Part I.: “Fell, banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 660 3And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:] Alluding to the star Arctophylax. Johnson. I wonder that none of the advocates for Shakspeare's learning, has observed that Arctophylax literally signifies—the guard of the bear. The elder quarto reads—ever-fired pole. Steevens.

Note return to page 661 *First folio, to bear it.

Note return to page 662 †Quarto, another ship.

Note return to page 663 4The ship is here put in, A Veronesé; Michael Cassio, &c.] [Old copies—Veronessa.] Mr. Heath is of opinion, that the poet intended to inform us, that Othello's lieutenant Cassio was of Verona, an inland city of the Venetian state; and adds, that the editors have not been pleased to say what kind of ship is here denoted by a Veronessa. By a Veronessa, or Veronesé, (for the Italian pronunciation must be retained, otherwise the measure will be defective,) a ship of Verona is denoted; as we say to this day of ships in the river, such a one is a Dutch-man, a Jamaica-man, &c. I subjoin Mr. Warton's note, as a confirmation of my own. Steevens. The true reading is Veronesé, pronounced as a quadrisyllable: “&lblank; The ship is here put in, “A Veronesé &lblank;.” It was common to introduce Italian words, and in their proper pronunciation then familiar. So Spenser in The Fairy Queen, b. iii. c. xiii. 10.: “With sleeves dependant Albanesé wise.” Mr. Heath observes, that “the editors have not been pleased to inform us what kind of ship is here denoted by the name of a Veronessa.” But even supposing that Veronessa is the true reading, there is no sort of difficulty. He might just as well have inquired, what kind of a ship is a Hamburgher. This is exactly a parallel form. For it is not the species of the ship which is implied in this appellation. Our critick adds, “the poet had not a ship in his thoughts.—He intended to inform us, that Othello's lieutenant, Cassio, was of Verona.” We should certainly read: “&lblank; The ship is here put in. “A Veronese, Michael Cassio, (&c.) “Is come on shore &lblank;.” This regulation of the lines is ingenious. But I agree with Sir T. Hanmer, and I think it appears from many parts of the play, that Cassio was a Florentine. In this speech, the third Gentleman, who brings the news of the wreck of the Turkish fleet, returns his tale, and relates the circumstances more distinctly. In his former speech he says, “A noble ship of Venice saw the distress of the Turks.” And here he adds, “The very ship is just now put into our port, and she is a Veronesé.” That is, a ship fitted out or furnished by the people of Verona, a city of the Venetian state. T. Warton. I believe we are all wrong. Verona is an inland city. Every inconsistency may, however, be avoided, if we read—The Veronessa, i. e. the name of the ship is the Veronessa. Verona, however, might be obliged to furnish ships towards the general defence of Italy. Steevens. The emendation proposed by Mr. Steevens is acute; but Shakspeare's acquaintance with the topography of Italy (as appears from The Tempest) was very imperfect. Henley. In Thomases History of Italy, already quoted, the people of Verona are called the Veronesi. This ship has been already described as a ship of Venice. It is now called “a Veronesé;” that is, a ship belonging to and furnished by the inland city of Verona, for the use of the Venetian state; and newly arrived from Venice. “Besides many other towns, (says Contareno,) castles, and villages, they [the Venetians,] possess seven faire cities; as Trevigi, Padoua, Vicenza, Verona, Brescia, Bergamo, and Crema.” Commonwealth of Venice, 1599. Malone.

Note return to page 664 *Old copies, himself; corrected by Mr. Rowe.

Note return to page 665 5Like a full soldier.] Like a complete soldier. So, before, p. 226: “What a full fortune doth the thick lips owe.” Malone.

Note return to page 666 6Even till we make the main, &c.] This line and half is wanting in the eldest quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 667 *First folio, arrivancy.

Note return to page 668 7&lblank; warlike isle,] Thus the folio. The first quarto reads— worthy isle. Steevens.

Note return to page 669 8Of very expert and approv'd allowance;] I read— “Very expert, and of approv'd allowance.” Johnson. Expert and approv'd allowance is put for allow'd and approv'd expertness. This mode of expression is not unfrequent in Shakspeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 670 9Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure.] I do not understand these lines. I know not how hope can be surfeited to death, that is, can be increased, till it be destroyed; nor what it is to stand in bold cure; or why hope should be considered as a disease. In the copies there is no variation. Shall we read: “Therefore my fears, not surfeited to death, “Stand in bold cure? This is better, but it is not well. Shall we strike a bolder stroke, and read thus: “Therefore my hopes, not forfeited to death, “Stand bold, not sure?” Johnson. Presumptuous hopes, which have no foundation in probability, may poetically be said to surfeit themselves to death, or forward their own dissolution. To stand in bold cure, is to erect themselves in confidence of being fulfilled. A parallel expression occurs in King Lear, Act III. Sc. VI.: “This rest might yet have balm'd his broken senses, “Which, if conveniency will not allow, “Stand in hard cure.” Again: “&lblank; his life, with thine, &c. “Stand in assured loss.” In bold cure means, in confidence of being cured. Steevens. Dr. Johnson says, “he knows not why hope should be considered as a disease.” But it is not hope which is here described as a disease; those misgiving apprehensions which diminish hope, are in fact the disease, and hope itself is the patient. A surfeit being a disease arising from an excessive overcharge of the stomach, the poet with his usual licence uses it for any species of excess.—Therefore, says Cassio, my hopes, which, though faint and sickly with apprehension, are not totally destroyed by an excess of despondency, erect themselves with some degree of confidence that they will be relieved, by the safe arrival of Othello, from those ill-divining fears under which they now languish. The word surfeit having occurred to Shakspeare, led him to consider such a hope as Cassio entertained, not a sanguine, but a faint and languid hope, (“sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,”) as a disease, and to talk of its cure. A passage in Twelfth-Night, where a similar phraseology is used, may serve to strengthen this interpretation: “Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, “The appetite may sicken, and so die.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “O, I have fed upon this woe already, “And now excess of it will make me surfeit.” Malone. I believe that Solomon, upon this occasion, will be found the best interpreter: “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” Henley.

Note return to page 671 1One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,] So, in our poet's 103d Sonnet: “&lblank; a face “That over-goes my blunt invention quite, “Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.” Malone.

Note return to page 672 2And in the essential vesture of creation, Does bear all excellency.] The author seems to use essential, for existent, real. She excels the praises of invention, says he, and in real qualities, with which creation has invested her, bears all excellency. Johnson. “Does bear all excellency.” Such is the reading of the quartos; for which the folio has this: “And in the essential vesture of creation “Do's tyre the ingeniuer.” Which I explain thus: “Does tire the ingenious verse.” This is the best reading, and that which the author substituted in his revisal. Johnson. The reading of the quarto is so flat and unpoetical, when compared with that sense which seems meant to have been given in the folio, that I heartily wish some emendation could be hit on, which might entitle it to a place in the text. I believe the word tire was not introduced to signify—to fatigue, but to attire, to dress. The verb to attire, is often so abbreviated. Thus, in Holland's Leaguer, 1633: “&lblank; Cupid's a boy, “And would you tire him like a senator?” Again, in The Comedy of Errors, Act II. Sc. II.: “&lblank; To save the money he spends in tiring,” &c. The essential vesture of creation tempts me to believe it was so used on the present occasion. I would read something like this: “And in the essential vesture of creation “Does tire the ingenuous virtue,” i. e. invests her artless virtue in the fairest form of earthly substance. In The Merchant of Venice, Act V. Lorenzo calls the body— “the muddy vesture of decay.” It may, however, be observed, that the word ingener did not anciently signify one who manages the engines or artillery of an army, but any ingenious person, any master of liberal science. As in the following instance from the ancient metrical romance of The Sowdon of Babyloyne, p. 55: “He called forth Mabon his engynour “And saide, I charge thee “To throwe a magnelle to yon tour “And breke it down on thre.” So, in Ben Jonson's Sejanus, Act I. Sc. I.: “No, Silius, we are no good ingeners, “We want the fine arts,” &c. Ingener, therefore, may be the true reading of this passage: and a similar thought occurs in The Tempest, Act IV. Sc. I.: “For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, “And make it halt behind her.” In the argument of Sejanus, Ben Jonson likewise says that his hero “worketh with all his ingene,” apparently from the Latin ingenium. Steevens. Perhaps the words intended in the folio, were— “Does tire the ingene ever.” Ingene is used for ingenium by Puttenham, in his Arte of Poesie, 1589: “&lblank; such also as made most of their workes by translation out of the Latin and French tongue, and few or none of their owne engine.” Engine is here without doubt a misprint for ingene.—I believe, however, the reading of the quarto is the true one.—If tire was used in the sense of weary, then ingener must have been used for the ingenious person who should attempt to enumerate the merits of Desdemona. To the instance produced by Mr. Steevens from Sejanus, may be added another in Fleckno's Discourse of the English Stage, 1664: “Of this curious art the Italians (this latter age) are the greatest masters, the French good proficients, and we in England only schollars and learners, yet, having proceeded no further than to bare painting, and not arrived to the stupendous wonders of your great ingeniers.” In one of Daniel's Sonnets, we meet with a similar imagery to that in the first of these lines: “Though time doth spoil her of the fairest vaile “That ever yet mortalitie did cover.” Malone. The reading of the folio, though incorrectly spelled, appears to have been— “Does tire the engineer;” which is preferable to either of the proposed amendments; and the meaning of the passage would then be, “One whose real perfections were so excellent, that to blazon them would exceed the abilities of the ablest masters.” The sense attributed to the word tire, according to this reading, is perfectly agreeable to the language of poetry. Thus Dryden says: “For this an hundred voices I desire, “To tell thee what an hundred tongues would tire; “Yet never could be worthily exprest, “How deeply those are seated in my breast.” And in the last Act of The Winter's Tale, the third Gentleman says: “I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it.” The objection to the reading of inginer, is, that although we find the words ingine, inginer, and inginous in Jonson, they are not the language of Shakspeare; and I believe indeed that Jonson is singular in the use of them. M. Mason. Whoever shall reject uncommon expressions in the writings of Shakspeare, because they differ either from the exact rules of orthography, or from the unsettled mode of spelling them by other writers, will be found to deprive him no less of his beauties, than that the ornithologist would the peacock, who should cut out every eye of his train because it was either not circular, or else varied from some imaginary standard.—Ingenieur is no doubt of the same import with ingener or ingeneer, though perhaps differently written by Shakspeare in reference to ingenious, and to distinguish it from ingeneer, which he has elsewhere used in a military sense. Mr. M. Mason's objection, that it is not the language of Shakspeare, is more than begging the question; and to affirm that Jonson is singular in the use of ingine, inginer, and inginous, is as little to the purpose. For we not only have those expressions in other writers, but others from the same root, as ingene, engene, &c. in Holinshed, and Sir T. More; and Daniel uses ingeniate: “Th' adulterate beauty of a falsed cheek “Did Nature (for this good) ingeniate, “To shew in thee the glory of her best.” Henley.

Note return to page 673 3Traitor's ensteep'd &lblank;] Thus the folio and one of the quartos. The first copy reads—enscerped, of which every reader may make what he pleases. Perhaps escerped was an old English word borrowed from the French escarpé, which Shakspeare not finding congruous to the image of clogging the keel, afterwards changed. I once thought that the poet had written—Traitors enscarf'd, i. e. muffled in their robes, as in Julius Cæsar. So, in Hamlet: “My sea-gown scarf'd about me;” and this agrees better with the idea of a traitor; yet whatever is gained one way is lost another. Our poet too often adopts circumstances from every image that arose in his mind, and employing them without attention to the propriety of their union, his metaphorical expressions become inextricably confused. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's difficulty respecting ensteep'd, would, perhaps, have been removed, if he had but recollected the passage of the fourth Act, where Othello alludes to the fate of Tantalus: “Had it pleas'd heaven “To try me with affliction; had he rain'd “All kind of sores, and shames on my bare head; “Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips &lblank;.” Henley. Traitors ensteeped are merely traitors concealed under the water. Boswell.

Note return to page 674 *Quarto, common.

Note return to page 675 4Their mortal natures,] i. e. their deadly, destructive natures. So, in Macbeth, Act I. Sc. V. “That tend on mortal thoughts.” See Dr. Johnson's note on that passage. Reed.

Note return to page 676 5&lblank; captain's captain;] So, in King Richard III. Act IV. Sc. IV.: “And she shall be sole victress, Cæsar's Cæsar.” Malone.

Note return to page 677 6Great Jove, &c.] For this absurdity I have not the smallest doubt that the master of the Revels, and not our poet, is answerable. See The Historical Account of the English Stage, vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 678 7Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,] Thus the folio. The quarto with less animation: “And swiftly come to Desdemona's arms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 679 8And bring all Cyprus comfort!] This passage is only found in the quartos. Steevens.

Note return to page 680 9The riches of the ship is come on shore.] Shakspeare uses riches as a singular in his 87th Sonnet: “And for that riches, where is my deserving?” Malone.

Note return to page 681 *Quarto, this greeting.

Note return to page 682 8See for the news.] The first quarto reads—So speaks this voice. Steevens.

Note return to page 683 In faith, too much;] Thus the folio. The first quarto thus: “I know too much; “I find it, I; for when,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 684 9Saints in your injuries, &c.] When you have a mind to do injuries, you put on an air of sanctity. Johnson. In Puttenham's Art of Poesie, 1589, I meet with almost the same thoughts: “We limit the comely parts of a woman to consist in four points; that is, to be, a shrew in the kitchen, a saint in the church, an angel at board, and an ape in the bed; as the Chronicle reports by mistress Shore, paramour to King Edward the Fourth.” Again, in a play of Middleton's, called Blurt Master Constable; or, The Spaniard's Night-Walk, 1602: “&lblank; according to that wise saying of you, you be saints in the church, angels in the street, devils in the kitchen, and apes in your bed.” Again, in The Miseries of Inforc'd Marriage, 1607: “Women are in churches saints, abroad angels, at home devils.” Puttenham, who mentions all other contemporary writers, has not once spoken of Shakspeare; so that it is probable he had not produced any thing of so early a date. The truth is, that this book appears to have been written several years before its publication. See p. 115, 116, where the author refers to Sir Nicholas Bacon, who died in 1579, and recounts a circumstance, from his own knowledge, that happened in 1553. Steevens. How does it appear that this book was written several years before its publication, from the circumstances mentioned? Puttenham does not speak of Sir Nicholas Bacon as living; but speaks to those who knew him; from which we might rather infer that it could not be written before 1578, when that lord keeper died. Malone.

Note return to page 685 2O, fye upon thee, slanderer!] This short speech is, in the quarto, unappropriated; and may as well belong to Emilia as to Desdemona. Steevens. It is appropriated to Desdemona in the folio. Boswell.

Note return to page 686 3&lblank; critical.] That is, censorious. Johnson. So, in our author's 122d Sonnet: “&lblank; my adder's sense “To critick and to flatterer stopped are.” Malone.

Note return to page 687 4&lblank; my invention Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize,] A similar thought occurs in The Puritan: “The excuse stuck upon my tongue, like ship-pitch upon a mariner's gown.” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 5&lblank; her blackness fit.] The first quarto reads—hit. So, in King Lear: “I pray you, let us hit together.” I believe hit, in the present instance also, to be the true reading, though it will not bear, as in Love's Labour's Lost, explanation. See vol. iv. p. 350. Steevens.

Note return to page 689 6She never yet was foolish, &c.] We may read: “She ne'er was yet so foolish that was fair, “But even her folly help'd her to an heir.” Yet I believe the common reading to be right: the law makes the power of cohabitation a proof that a man is not a natural; therefore, since the foolishest woman, if pretty, may have a child, no pretty woman is ever foolish. Johnson.

Note return to page 690 *Quarto, that praises.

Note return to page 691 7But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed?] The hint for this question, and the metrical reply of Iago, is taken from a strange pamphlet, called Choice. Chance, and Change, or Conceits in their Colours, 1606: when after Tidero has described many ridiculous characters in verse, Arnofilo asks him, “But, I pray thee, didst thou write none in commendation of some worthy creature?” Tidero then proceeds, like Iago, to repeat more verses. Steevens.

Note return to page 692 8&lblank; one, that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?] The sense is this, one that was so conscious of her own merit, and of the authority her character had with every one, that she durst venture to call upon malice itself to vouch for her. This was some commendation. And the character only of clearest virtue; which could force malice, even against its nature, to do justice. Warburton. To put on the vouch of malice, is to assume a character vouched by the testimony of malice itself. Johnson. To put on is to provoke, to incite. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the powers above “Put on their instruments.” Steevens.

Note return to page 693 9To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;] i. e. to exchange a delicacy for coarser fare. See Queen Elizabeth's Household Book for the 43d Year of her Reign: “Item, the Master Cookes have to fee all the salmon's tailes,” &c. p. 296. Steevens.

Note return to page 694 1See suitors following, and not look behind;] The first quarto omits this line. Steevens.

Note return to page 695 2To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.] After enumerating the perfections of a woman, Iago adds, that if ever there was such a one as he had been describing, she was, at the best, of no other use, than to suckle children, and keep the accounts of a household. The expressions “to suckle fools, and chronicle small beer,” are only instances of the want of natural affection, and the predominance of a critical censoriousness in Iago, which he allows himself to be possessed of, where he says, “O! I am nothing, if not critical.” Steevens.

Note return to page 696 3&lblank; profane &lblank;]Gross of language, of expression broad and brutal. So, Brabantio, in the first Act, calls Iago profane wretch. Johnson. Ben Jonson, in describing the characters in Every Man out of his Humour, styles Carlo Buffone, a publick, scurrilous, and profane jester. Steevens.

Note return to page 697 4&lblank; liberal counsellor?] Liberal for licentious. Warburton. So, in The Fair Maid of Bristow, 1605, bl. l.: “But Vallenger, most like a liberal villain, “Did give her scandalous, ignoble terms.” Steevens. So, also, in Hamlet: “&lblank; long purples, “That liberal shepherds give a grosser name.” Malone. Counsellor seems to mean, not so much a man that gives counsel, as one that discourses fearlessly and volubly. A talker. Johnson. Counsellor is here used in the common acceptation. Desdemona refers to the answers she had received from Iago, and particularly her last. Henley.

Note return to page 698 *Quarto omits with.

Note return to page 699 5&lblank; I will gyve thee &lblank;] i. e. catch, shackle. Pope. The first quarto reads—I will catch you in your own courtsies; the second quarto—I will catch you in your own courtship. The folio as it is in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 700 6&lblank; to play the sir in.] That is, to show your good breeding and gallantry. Henley.

Note return to page 701 7&lblank; well kissed! an excellent courtesy!] Spoken when Cassio kisses his hand, and Desdemona courtsies. Johnson. This reading was recovered from the quarto 1622, by Dr. Johnson. The folio has—and excellent courtesy. I do not believe that any part of these words relates to Desdemona. In the original copy, we have just seen, the poet wrote— “&lblank; ay, smile upon her, do; I will catch you in your own courtesies.” Here therefore he probably meant only to speak of Cassio, while kissing his hand. “Well kissed! an excellent courtesy!” i. e. an excellent salute. Courtesy, in the sense of obeisance or salute, was in Shakspeare's time applied to men as well as women. So, in the Rape of Lucrece: “The homely villain court'sies to her low.” See Henry IV. Part I. Act III. Sc. II. Malone.

Note return to page 702 8O my fair warrior!] Again, in Act III. Desdemona says: “&lblank; unhandsome warrior as I am.” This phrase was introduced by our copiers of the French Sonnetteers. Ronsard frequently calls his mistresses guerrieres; and Southern, his imitator, is not less prodigal of the same appellation. Thus, in his fifth Sonnet: “And, my warrier, my light shines in thy fayre eyes.” Again, in his sixth Sonnet: “I am not, my cruell warrier, the Thebain,” &c. Again, ibid.: “I came not, my warrier, of the blood Lidain.” Had not I met with the word thus fantastically applied, I should have concluded that Othello called his wife a warrior, because she had embarked with him on a warlike expedition, and not in consequence of Ovid's observation— Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido. Steevens.

Note return to page 703 9&lblank; come such calms,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622, reads—calmness. Steevens.

Note return to page 704 1And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, Olympus-high; and duck again as low As hell's from heaven!] So, in Sidney's Arcadia, b. i.: “The sea, making mountaines of itself, over which the tossed and tottering ship should climbe, to be straight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darknesse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 705 2&lblank; If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy;] So, Cherea, in The Eunuch of Terence, Act III. Sc. V.: &lblank; Proh Jupiter! Nunc tempus profecto est, cum perpeti me possum interfici, Ne vita aliquâ hoc gaudium contaminet ægritudine. Malone.

Note return to page 706 3Even as our days do grow!] Here is one of those evident interpolations which abound in our author's dramas. Who does not perceive that the words—Even as our days, refer to the verb —increase in the foregoing line? Omit therefore the prosaick— do grow, (which is perfectly useless) and the metre will be restored to its original regularity. Fenton has adopted this thought in his Mariamne: “And mutual passion with our years increase!” Steevens.

Note return to page 707 4And this, and this, &c. Kissing her.] So, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion: “I pri'thee, chide, if I have done amiss, “But let my punishment be this and this. [Kissing the Moor.” Malone. Marlowe's play was written before that of Shakspeare, who might possibly have acted in it. Steevens.

Note return to page 708 5&lblank; I'll set down &lblank;] Thus the old copies, for which the modern editors, following Mr. Pope, have substituted—let down. But who can prove that to set down was not the language of Shakspeare's time, when a viol was spoken of?—To set formerly signified to tune, though it is no longer used in that sense. “It was then,” says Anthony Wood in his Diary, “that I set and tuned in strings and fourths,” &c. So, in Skialetheia, a Collection of Satires, &c. 1598: “&lblank; to a nimbler key “Set thy wind instrument.” Malone. To “set down” has this meaning in no other part of our author's works. However, virtus post nummos: we have secured the phrase, and the exemplification of it may follow when it will. Steevens. To set down has the same meaning as to put down, to lower. Yet, as the phrase to let down is the usual phrase, and might be easily corrupted, it was probably the true one. Boswell.

Note return to page 709 6News, friends;] The modern editors read (after Mr. Rowe) Now, friends. I would observe once for all, that (in numberless instances in this play, as well as in others,) where my predecessors had silently and without reason made alterations, I have as silently restored the old readings. Steevens. It should be remembered that this note was written in 1773, and, therefore, refers only to his predecessors at that period; nor was it correct at that time; for Mr. Capell, in 1768, reads as the old copies. Boswell.

Note return to page 710 7&lblank; well desir'd in Cyprus,] i. e. much solicited by invitation. So, in The Letters of the Paston Family, vol. i. p. 299: “&lblank; at the whych weddyng I was with myn hostes, and also desyryd by ye jentylman hymselfe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 711 8I prattle out of fashion,] Out of method, without any settled order of discourse. Johnson.

Note return to page 712 9&lblank; the master&lblank;] Dr. Johnson supposed, that by the master was meant the pilot of a ship, and indeed had high authority for this supposition; for our poet himself seems to have confounded them. See Act III. Sc. II. l. l. But the master is a distinct person, and has the principal command, and care of the navigation of the ship, under the captain, where there is a captain; and in chief, where there is none. The pilot is employed only in navigating the ship into or out of port. Malone. “The master (says Smith in his Sea-Grammar, 1627,) and his mates, are to direct the course, command all the sailors, for steering, trimming, and sailing the ship,” &c.

Note return to page 713 *First folio, thither.

Note return to page 714 1&lblank; base men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “Nature is fine in love.” Malone. Dryden has imparted Iago's present sentiment to Dorax: “Why love does all that's noble here below.” Steevens.

Note return to page 715 2&lblank; the court of guard:] i. e. the place where the guard musters. So, in The Family of Love, 1608: “Thus have I pass'd the round and court of guard.” Again, in The Beggar's Bush, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Visit your courts of guard, view your munition.” Steevens.

Note return to page 716 3Lay thy finger—thus,] On thy mouth, to stop it while thou art listening to a wiser man. Johnson.

Note return to page 717 4And will she love him still for prating?] The folio reads— To love him still for prating! Steevens.

Note return to page 718 5&lblank; again to inflame it,] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads—a game. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 *First folio, eminent.

Note return to page 720 6&lblank; and humane seeming,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—and hand-seeming. Malone.

Note return to page 721 †Quarto omits these four words.

Note return to page 722 7&lblank; green minds &lblank;] Minds unripe, minds not yet fully formed. Johnson.

Note return to page 723 8&lblank; condition.] Qualities, disposition of mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 724 ‡Quarto omits Bless'd pudding.

Note return to page 725 *Quarto omits these four words.

Note return to page 726 9&lblank; an index, and obscure prologue, &c.] That indexes were formerly prefixed to books, appears from a passage in Troilus and Cressida, vol. viii. p. 276; and another in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 391. Malone.

Note return to page 727 1&lblank; tainting &lblank;] Throwing a slur upon his discipline. Johnson. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “In taint of our best man.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the 22d Odyssey: “Ctesippus, over good Eumæus' shield “His shoulder's top did taint.” To taint, in this instance, means ‘to inflict a slight wound.’ Again, in the 3d Iliad, 4to. 1598, by the same translator: “Eight shafts I shot &lblank; “Yet this wilde dogge, with all my aime, I have no power to taint.” Steevens.

Note return to page 728 2&lblank; other course &lblank;] The first quarto reads—cause. Steevens.

Note return to page 729 3&lblank; sudden in choler;] Sudden is precipitately violent. Johnson. So, Malcolm, describing Macbeth: “I grant him bloody &lblank;, “Sudden, malicious.” Steevens.

Note return to page 730 4&lblank; whose qualification shall come, &c.] Whose resentment shall not be so qualified or tempered, as to be well tasted, as not to retain some bitterness. The phrase is harsh, at least to our ears. Johnson. Johnson's explanation is confirmed by what Cassio says in the next scene: “I have drunk but one cup to night, and that was craftily qualified,” i. e. allayed by water. M. Mason. “&lblank; no true taste &lblank;” So the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—no true trust. Malone.

Note return to page 731 5&lblank; to prefer them;] i. e. to advance them. So, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, vol. v. p. 308. “The short and the long is, our play is preferred.” Malone.

Note return to page 732 6&lblank; if I can bring it to any opportunity.] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads—if you can bring it, &c. Malone. The sense requires I, for Iago had brought the affair to opportunity by fixing on Roderigo for one of the watch. Roderigo's part remained to be done, viz. provoking Cassio, which he promises to do if opportunity offered to give him cause. Jennens.

Note return to page 733 *Quarto, lustful.

Note return to page 734 7&lblank; like a poisonous mineral,] This is philosophical. Mineral poisons kill by corrosion. Johnson.

Note return to page 735 8Till I am even with him,] Thus the quarto 1622; the first folio reads: “Till I am even'd with him.” i. e. Till I am on a level with him by retaliation. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632, Second Part: “The stately walls he rear'd, levell'd, and even'd.” Again, in Tancred and Gismund, 1592: “For now the walls are even'd with the plain.” Again, in Stanyhurst's translation of the first book of Virgil's Æneid, 1582:—“numerum cum navibus æquat &lblank;.” “&lblank; with the ships the number is even'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 736 9&lblank; Which thing to do,— If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,] The quarto 1622 has—crush, the folio reads—trace, an apparent corruption of—trash; for as to the idea of crushing a dog, to prevent him from quick hunting, it is too ridiculous to be defended. To trash, is still a hunter's phrase, and signifies (see Tempest, Act I. Sc. II.) to fasten a weight on the neck of a dog, when his speed is superior to that of his companions. Thus, says Caratach, in The Bonduca of Beaumont and Fletcher (the quotation was the late Mr. T. Warton's, though misunderstood by him as to its appropriate meaning): “&lblank; I fled too, “But not so fast; your jewel had been lost then, “Young Hengo there: he trash'd me, Nennius &lblank;.” i. e. he was the clog that restrained my activity. This sense of the word—trash has been so repeatedly confirmed to me by those whom I cannot suspect of wanting information relative to their most favourite pursuits, that I do not hesitate to throw off the load of unsatisfactory notes with which the passage before us has hitherto been oppressed. The same idea occurs also in the Epistle Dedicatory to Dryden's Rival Ladies: “Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless, that, like a high-ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgement.” Trash, in the first instance, (though Dr. Warburton would change it into—brach,) may be used to signify a worthless hound, as the same term is afterwards employed to describe a worthless female: “Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash.” It is scarce necessary to support the present jingle of the word —trash, by examples, it is so much in our author's manner, although his worst. Stand the putting on, may mean—does not start too soon after Desdemona, and so destroy my scheme by injudicious precipitation. But I rather think, these words have reference to the enterprize of provoking Cassio, and will then imply,—“if he has courage enough for the attempt to which I have just incited, or put him on.”—For an example of the latter phrase, see p. 305, n. 8. Steevens. That Mr. Steevens has given the true explanation of—to trash, is fixed by the succeeding authority from Harrington, where it unquestionably means to impede the progress: “&lblank; prolongation of magistracy, trashing the wheel of rotation, destroys the life or natural motion of a commonwealth.” Works, p. 303, fol. 1747. Holt White.

Note return to page 737 1I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip;] A phrase from the art of wrestling. Johnson.

Note return to page 738 2&lblank; in the rank garb,] Thus the quarto, and, I think, rightly. Rank garb, I believe, means grossly, i. e. without mincing the matter. So, in Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 1604: “Whither, in the rank name of madness, whither?” The term—garb (employed perhaps in the sense here required) occurs in the eighteenth book of Homer's Odyssey, as translated by Chapman: “But here you must take confidence to prate “Before all these; for fear can get no state “In your wine-hardy stomach. Or tis like “To prove your native garb, your tongue will strike “On this side of your mouth still.” Steevens. The folio reads—in the right garb. Rank, perhaps, means not only gross, but lascivious. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; the ewes, being rank, “In end of autumn,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 739 3Knavery's plain face is never seen,] An honest man acts upon a plan, and forecasts his designs; but a knave depends upon temporary and local opportunities, and never knows his own purpose, but at the time of execution. Johnson.

Note return to page 740 4&lblank; mere perdition &lblank;] Mere, in this place, signifies entire. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; possess it merely.” Steevens.

Note return to page 741 5&lblank; put himself into triumph;] This whimsical phraseology occurs again in Pericles, Prince of Tyre: “So puts himself into the shipman's toil.” Steevens.

Note return to page 742 6&lblank; his addiction &lblank;] The first quarto reads—his mind. Steevens.

Note return to page 743 7All offices are open;] i. e. all rooms, or places, in the castle, at which refreshments are prepared, or served out. So, in Macbeth: “Sent forth great largess to your offices.” See Act II. Sc. I. Steevens. The passage quoted from Macbeth by Mr. Steevens is contested; a better therefore may be produced from Timon of Athens, Act II. Sc. II.: “When all our offices have been oppress'd “With riotous feeders.” Malone.

Note return to page 744 8&lblank; of feasting,] These words are not in the original quarto 1622. Malone.

Note return to page 745 9Our general cast us &lblank;] That is, appointed us to our stations. To cast the play, is, in the style of the theatres, to assign to every actor his proper part. Johnson. We have just now been assured by the Herald, that there was “full liberty of feasting, &c. till eleven.” Perhaps therefore [as Mr. Jennens has remarked,] cast us only means dismissed us, or got rid of our company. So, in one of the following scenes: “You are but now cast in his mood;” i. e. turned out of your office in his anger; and in the first scene it means to dismiss. So, in The Witch, a MS. tragi-comedy, by Middleton: “She cast off “My company betimes to-night, by tricks,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 746 1&lblank; a parley of provocation.] So the quarto 1622. Folio— to provocation. Malone.

Note return to page 747 2&lblank; an alarm &lblank;] The voice may sound an alarm more properly than the eye can sound a parley. Johnson. The eye is often said to speak. Thus we frequently hear of the language of the eye. Surely that which can talk may, without any violent stretch of the figure, be allowed to sound a parley. Ritson. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip; “Nay, her foot speaks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 748 3&lblank; is it not an alarm to love?] The quartos read—'tis an alarm to love. Steevens.

Note return to page 749 4She is, indeed, perfection.] In this and the seven short speeches preceding, the decent character of Cassio is most powerfully contrasted with that of the licentious Iago. Steevens.

Note return to page 750 5&lblank; craftily qualified &lblank;] Slily mixed with water. Johnson.

Note return to page 751 6Three lads of Cyprus,] The folio reads—Three else of Cyprus. Steevens.

Note return to page 752 7The very elements &lblank;] As quarrelsome as the discordia semina rerum; as quick in opposition as fire and water. Johnson.

Note return to page 753 8If consequence do but approve my dream,] Every scheme subsisting only in the imagination may be termed a dream. Johnson.

Note return to page 754 9&lblank; given me a rouse, &c.] A rouse appears to be a quantity of liquor rather too large. So, in Hamlet; and in The Christian turn'd Turk, 1612: “&lblank; our friends may tell “We drank a rouse to them.” See Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 226. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 1As I am a soldier.] If Montano was Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus, (as we are told in the Personæ Dramatis,) he is not very characteristically employed in the present scene, where he is tippling with people already flustered, and encouraging a subaltern officer who commands a midnight guard, to drink to excess. Steevens.

Note return to page 756 2&lblank; the canakin;] So, in Barclay's Ship of Fools, fol. 229: “&lblank; some quafes ye canakin halfe full,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 757 3A life's but a span;] Thus the quarto. The folio reads— “Oh man's life's but a span.” Steevens.

Note return to page 758 4&lblank; in England, where (indeed) they are most potent in potting:] Les meilleurs buveurs en Angleterre, is an ancient French proverb. Steevens.

Note return to page 759 5&lblank; most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, &c.] “Enquire at ordinaries: there must be sallets for the Italian, tooth-picks for the Spaniard, pots for the German!” Prologue to Lyly's Midas, 1592. Malone. “&lblank; your Dane.” See Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 227. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 6&lblank; so expert in his drinking?] Thus the quarto 1622. Folio—so exquisite. This accomplishment in the English is likewise mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher in The Captain: “Lod. Are the Englishmen “Such stubborn drinkers? “Piso. &lblank; not a leak at sea “Can suck more liquor; you shall have their children “Christen'd in mull'd sack, and at five years old “Able to knock a Dane down.” Steevens.

Note return to page 761 7&lblank; I'll do you justice.] i. e. drink as much as you do. See Henry IV. Part II. Act V. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 762 9King Stephen, &c.] These stanzas are taken from an old song, which the reader will find recovered and preserved in a curious work lately printed, entitled, Relicks of Ancient Poetry, consisting of old heroick ballads, songs, &c. 3 vols. 12mo. Johnson. So, in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier: “King Stephen wore a pair of cloth breeches of a noble a pair, and thought them passing costly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 763 6&lblank; a worthy peer,] i. e. a worthy fellow. In this sense peer, fere, pheere, are often used by the writers of our earliest romances. Steevens. A worthy peer is a worthy lord, a title frequently bestowed upon kings in our old romances. So, in Amadis de Gaule, 1619: “Sir, although you be a king and a great lord.” Spenser constantly uses the word peer in this sense. Pheere is in every respect a very different word. Ritson.

Note return to page 764 1&lblank; lown.] Sorry fellow, paltry wretch. Johnson.

Note return to page 765 2He'll watch the horologe a double set, &c.] If he have no drink, he'll keep awake, while the clock strikes two rounds, or four- and-twenty hours. Chaucer uses the word horologe in more places than one: “Well sickerer was his crowing in his loge “Than is a clok or any abbey orloge.” Johnson. So, Heywood, in his Epigrams on Proverbs, 1562: “The divell is in thorologe, the houres to trye, “Searche houres by the sunne, the devyl's dyal wyll lye: “The devyl is in thorologe, nowe cheere in bowles, “Let the devyl keepe our clockes, while God keepe our soules.” Again, in The Devil's Charter, 1607: “&lblank; my gracious lord, “By Sisto's horologe 'tis struck eleven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 766 *Quarto, praises.

Note return to page 767 3&lblank; ingraft infirmity:] An infirmity rooted, settled in his constitution. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's explanation seems to fall short of the poet's meaning. The qualities of a tree are so changed by being engrafted, that its future fruits are not such as would have naturally sprung from the stock, but derive their qualities from the graft inserted into it. Conformably to this idea, is the assertion of Hamlet concerning the same vice in his countrymen: “They clepe us drunkards,” &c. See vol. vii. p. 277. Henley. Dr. Johnson's explanation is certainly just, though it has been controverted. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; then must we look to receive from his age not alone the imperfection of long ingrafted condition, but there-withal,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 768 4&lblank; into a twiggen bottle.] A twiggen bottle is a wickered bottle; and so the quarto reads. Steevens.

Note return to page 769 5&lblank; Diablo,] I meet with this exclamation in Marlowe's King Edward II. 1598: “Diablo? what passions call you these?” It is, as Mr. M. Mason observes, a mere contraction of Diavolo, the Italian word for the Devil. Steevens.

Note return to page 770 6'Zounds, I bleed still, I am hurt to the death.] Thus the quarto 1622. The editor of the folio, thinking it necessary to omit the first word in the line, absurdly supplied its place by adding at the end of the line, He dies. I had formerly inadvertently said, that the marginal direction, He faints, was found in the quarto 1622: but this was a mistake. It was inserted in a quarto of no value or authority, printed in 1630. Malone. “&lblank; I am hurt to the death;—he dies.” Montano thinks he is mortally wounded, yet by these words he seems determined to continue the duel, and to kill his antagonist Cassio. So, when Roderigo runs at Cassio in the fifth Act, he says,—“Villain, thou diest.” Tollet. He dies, i. e. he shall die. He may be supposed to say this as he is offering to renew the fight. Thus likewise Othello himself, in his very next speech: “&lblank; he dies upon his motion.” I do not therefore regard these words, when uttered by Montano, as an absurd addition in the first folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 771 7Hold, hold, lieutenant,] Thus the original quarto. The folio reads—Hold ho, lieutenant. Malone.

Note return to page 772 8&lblank; all sense of place and duty?] So Sir Thomas Hanmer. The rest: “&lblank; all place of sense and duty?” Johnson.

Note return to page 773 9&lblank; to carve for his own rage,] Thus the folio 1623. The quarto 1622 has forth; which, I apprehend to be little better than nonsense. To “carve forth,” &c. can only signify—to “cut or portion out his resentment;” whereas, the phrase I have placed in the text, affords the obvious and appropriate meaning—to supply food or gratification for his own anger. The same phrase occurs in Hamlet: “He may not, as unvalued persons do, “Carve for himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 1Silence that dreadful bell,] It was a common practice formerly, when any great affray happened in a town, to ring the alarum bell. When David Rizzio was murdered at Edinburgh, the Provost ordered the common bell to be rung, and five hundred persons were immediately assembled. See Saunderson's History of Queen Mary, p. 41. So, in Peacham's Valley of Varietie, where he is speaking of the use of bells, “they call for helpe when houses in cities and townes are on fire; or when there is any mutinie or uproare.” Malone. At Paris the Tocsin is still rung as often as fires or disturbances break out. Steevens.

Note return to page 775 2&lblank; it frights the isle From her propriety.] From her regular and proper state. Johnson.

Note return to page 776 3In quarter,] In their quarters; at their lodging. Johnson. “In quarter.” i. e. on our station. So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; to atone your fears “With my more noble meaning, not a man “Shall pass his quarter.” Their station or quarter in the present instance, was the guardroom in Othello's castle. In Cymbeline we have—“their quarter'd fires,” i. e. their fires regularly disposed. In quarter Dr. Johnson supposed to mean, at their lodgings; but that cannot be the meaning, for Montano and the Gentlemen who accompanied him, had continued, from the time of their entrance, in the apartment of Othello's castle, in which the carousal had been; and Cassio had only gone forth for a short time to the platform, to set the watch. On his return from the platform into the apartment, in which he left Montano and Iago, he meets Roderigo; and the scuffle, first between Cassio and Roderigo, and then between Montano and Cassio, ensues. Malone. Rather at peace, quiet. They had been on that very spot (the court or platform, it is presumed before the castle,) ever since Othello left them, which can scarcely be called being in their quarters, or at their lodging. Ritson. So, in The Dumb Knight, Act III. Sc. I.: “Did not you hold fair quarter and commerce with all the spies of Cypres?” Reed. It required one example, if no more, to evince that in quarter ever signified quiet, at peace. But a little attention would have shown, that the them, whom he speaks of Othello's having left, was only Cassio; who, being joined by Iago, where Othello (but not on the platform) had just left him, is dissuaded from setting the watch immediately; entreated to partake of a stoop of wine, in company with a brace of Cyprus gallants, then waiting without; and prevailed upon, though reluctantly, to invite them in. In this apartment the carousal happens, and wine is repeatedly called for, till at last Cassio, finding its too powerful effects, goes out to set the watch. At the proposal of Montano, himself and Iago follow Cassio towards the platform, and the latter sets on Roderigo to insult him. The scuffle ensues; an alarm is given, and Othello comes forth to inquire the cause. When, therefore, Iago answers: “I do not know:—friends all but now, even now “In quarter &lblank;.” it is evident the quarter referred to, was that apartment of the castle assigned to the officers on guard, where Othello, after giving Cassio his orders, had, a little before, left him; and where Iago, with his companions, immediately found him. Henley,

Note return to page 777 4&lblank; you are thus forgot?] i. e. you have thus forgot yourself. Steevens.

Note return to page 778 5That you unlace &lblank;] Slacken, or loosen. Put in danger of dropping; or perhaps strip off its ornaments. Johnson. A similar phrase occurs in Twelfth-Night: “I pr'ythee now, ungird thy strangeness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 779 6&lblank; spend your rich opinion,] Throw away and squander a reputation so valuable as yours. Johnson.

Note return to page 780 7&lblank; self-charity &lblank;] Care of one's self. Johnson.

Note return to page 781 8And passion, having my best judgment collied,] Thus the folio reads, and I believe rightly. Othello means, that passion has discoloured his judgement. The word is used in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “&lblank; like lightning in the collied night.” To colly anciently signified to besmut, to blacken, as with coal. So, in a comedy called The Family of Love, 1608: “&lblank; carry thy link a't'other side the way, thou collow'st me and my ruffe.” The word (as I am assured) is still used in the midland counties. Mr. Tollet informs me that Wallis's History of Northumberland, p. 46, says: “&lblank; in our northern counties it [i. e. a fine black clay or ochre] is commonly known by the name of collow or killow, by which name it is known by Dr. Woodward,” &c. The Doctor says it had its name from kollow, by which name, in the North, the smut or grime on the top of chimneys is so called. Colly, however, is from coal, as collier. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads—choler'd. Steevens. Cole, in his Dictionary, 1679, renders “collow'd by denigratus: —to colly,” denigro. The quarto 1622 reads—having my best judgement cool'd. A modern editor supposed that quell'd was the word intended. Malone.

Note return to page 782 9&lblank; he that is approv'd in this offence,] He that is convicted by proof, of having been engaged in this offence. Johnson.

Note return to page 783 1In night, and on the court and guard of safety!] Thus the old copies. Mr. Malone reads: “In night, and on the court of guard and safety!” Steevens. These words have undoubtedly been transposed by negligence at the press. For this emendation, of which I am confident every reader will approve, I am answerable. The court of guard was the common phrase of the time for the guard room. It has already been used by Iago in a former scene; and what still more strongly confirms the emendation, Iago is there speaking of Cassio, and describing him as about to be placed in the very station where he now appears: “The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “If we be not reliev'd within this hour, “We must return to the court of guard.” So in Davenant's Playhouse to be Let. The scene changes to a parred or court of guard. The same phrase occurs in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600, and in many other old plays. A similar mistake has happened in the present scene, where in the original copy we find: “Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?” instead of—all sense of place and duty?” I may venture to assert with confidence that no editor of Shakspeare has more sedulously adhered to the ancient copies than I have done, or more steadily opposed any change grounded merely on obsolete or unusual phraseology. But the error in the present case is so apparent, and the phrase, the court of guard, so established by the uniform usage of the poets of Shakspeare's time, that not to have corrected the mistake of the compositor in the present instance, would in my apprehension have been unwarrantable. If the phraseology of the old copies had merely been unusual, I should not have ventured to make the slightest change: but the frequent occurrence of the phrase, the court of guard, in all our old plays, and that being the word of art, leave us not room to entertain a doubt of its being the true reading. Mr. Steevens says, a phraseology as unusual occurs in A Midsummer-Night's Dream; but he forgets that it is supported by the usage of contemporary writers. When any such is produced in support of that before us, it ought certainly to be attended to. I may add, that the court of safety may in a metaphorical sense be understood; but who ever talked of the guard [i. e. the safety] of safety? Malone. As a collocation of words, as seemingly perverse, occurs in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, and is justified there, in the following instance: “I shall desire you of more acquaintance;” I forbear to disturb the text under consideration. If Safety, like the Roman Salus, or Recovery in King Lear, be personified, where is the impropriety of saying—under the guard of Safety? Thus, Plautus, in his Captivi: “Neque jam servare Salus, si vult, me potest.” Mr. Malone also appears to forget that, on a preceding occasion, he too has left an unexemplified and very questionable phrase, in the text of this tragedy, hoping, we may suppose, (as I do,) that it will be hereafter countenanced by example. See p. 309, n.5. Steevens.

Note return to page 784 2'Tis monstrous.] This word was used as a trisyllable, as if it were written monsterous. Malone. It is again used as a trisyllable in Macbeth, Act III. Sc. VI. Steevens.

Note return to page 785 3If partially affin'd,] Affin'd is ‘bound by proximity of relationship;’ but here it means ‘related by nearness of office.’ In the first scene it is used in the former of these senses: “If I, in any just term, am affin'd “To love the Moor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 786 4&lblank; leagu'd in office,] Old copies—league. Corrected by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 787 5&lblank; cut from my mouth,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—this tongue out from my mouth. Malone.

Note return to page 788 6And Cassio following him &lblank;] The word him in this line seems to have crept into it from the compositor's eye glancing on that below. Malone.

Note return to page 789 7&lblank; sweeting;] This surfeiting vulgar term of fondness originates from the name of an apple distinguished only by its insipid sweetness. Steevens. Shakspeare seems to have thought very differently of these terms of endearment. We have before, “honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;” and a multitude of other passages of a similar nature might be produced.

Note return to page 790 8Lead him off.] I am persuaded, these words were originally a marginal direction. In our old plays all the stage-directions were couched in imperative terms:—Play musick—Ring the Bell—Lead him off. Malone.

Note return to page 791 9&lblank; there is more offence, &c.] Thus the quartos. The folio reads—there is more sense, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 792 1&lblank; cast in his mood,] Ejected in his anger. Johnson.

Note return to page 793 2&lblank; so slight,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads —so light. Malone.

Note return to page 794 3&lblank; and speak parrot?] A phrase signifying to act foolishly and childishly. So Skelton: “These maidens full mekely with many a divers flour, “Freshly they dress and make sweete my boure, “With spake parrot I pray you full courteously thei saye.” Warburton. So, in Lyly's Woman in the Moon, 1597: “Thou pretty parrot, speak a while.” These lines are wanting in the first quarto. Steevens. From Drunk, &c. to shadow, inclusively, is wanting in the quarto 1622. By “speak parrot,” surely the poet meant, “talk idly,” and not, as Dr. Warburton supposes, “act foolishly.” Malone.

Note return to page 795 4&lblank; for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces:] [Old copies—devotement.] I remember, it is said of Antony, in the beginning of his tragedy, that he who used to fix his eyes altogether on the dreadful ranges of war: “&lblank; now bends, now turns, “The office and devotion of their view “Upon a tawny front.” This is finely expressed; but I cannot persuade myself that our poet would ever have said, any one devoted himself to the devotement of any thing. All the copies agree; but the mistake certainly arose from a single letter being turned upside down at press. Theobald. A similar mistake has happened in Hamlet, and in several other places. See p. 176. Malone.

Note return to page 796 5&lblank; This broken joint,] Thus the folio. The original copy reads—This brawl. Malone.

Note return to page 797 6&lblank; any lay &lblank;] i. e. any bet, any wager. Ritson. So, in Cymbeline: “I will have it no lay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 798 7&lblank; this advice is free,] This counsel has an appearance of honest openness, of frank good-will. Johnson. Rather gratis, not paid for, as his advice to Roderigo was. Henley.

Note return to page 799 8Probal &lblank;] Thus the old editions. There may be such a contraction of the word probable, but I have not met with it in any other book. Yet abbreviations as violent occur in our ancient writers, and especially in the works of Churchyard. Steevens.

Note return to page 800 9The inclining Desdemona &lblank;] Inclining here signifies compliant. Malone.

Note return to page 801 1&lblank; fruitful &lblank;] Corresponding to benignus, &gra;&grf;&grq;&gro;&grn;&gro;&grst;. Henley.

Note return to page 802 2&lblank; as fruitful As the free elements.] Liberal, bountiful, as the elements, out of which all things are produced. Johnson.

Note return to page 803 3&lblank; to this parallel course,] Parallel, for even; because parallel lines run even and equidistant. Warburton. So, in our author's 70th Sonnet: “Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, “And delves the parallels in beauty's brow.” Malone. Parallel course; i. e. course level, and even with his design. Johnson.

Note return to page 804 4When devils will their blackest sins put on, They do suggest &lblank;] When devils mean to instigate men to commit the most atrocious crimes. So, in Hamlet: “Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause.” To put on has already occurred twice in the present play, in this sense. To suggest in old language is to tempt. See vol. iv. p. 50, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 805 5I'll pour this pestilence &lblank;] Pestilence, for poison. Warburton.

Note return to page 806 6That she repeals him &lblank;] That is, recalls him. Johnson. So it is explained both in the Alphabet of Hard Words, 1604, and by Bullokar, 1616. Malone.

Note return to page 807 7That shall enmesh them all.] A metaphor from taking birds in meshes. Pope. Why not from the taking fish, for which purpose nets are more frequently used? M. Mason.

Note return to page 808 8&lblank; a little more wit,] Thus the folio. The first quarto reads —and with that wit. Steevens.

Note return to page 809 9Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits, that blossom first, will first be ripe:] Of many different things, all planned with the same art, and promoted with the same diligence, some must succeed sooner than others, by the order of nature. Every thing cannot be done at once; we must proceed by the necessary gradation. We are not to despair of slow events any more than of tardy fruits, while the causes are in regular progress, and the fruits grow fair against the sun. Sir Thomas Hanmer has not, I think, rightly conceived the sentiment; for he reads: “Those fruits which blossom first, are not first ripe.” I have therefore drawn it out at length, for there are few to whom that will be easy which was difficult to Sir T. Hanmer, Johnson. The blossoming, or fair appearance of things, to which Iago alludes, is, the removal of Cassio. As their plan had already blossomed, so there was good ground for expecting that it would soon be ripe. Iago does not, I think, mean to compare their scheme to tardy fruits, as Dr. Johnson seems to have supposed. Malone.

Note return to page 810 1&lblank; By the mass, 'tis morning;] Here we have one of the numerous arbitrary alterations made by the Master of the Revels in the playhouse copies, from which a great part of the folio was printed. It reads—In troth, 'tis morning. See The Historical Account of the English Stage, vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 811 2&lblank; to draw &lblank;] Thus the old copies; and this reading is consistent with the tenor of the present interrupted speech. Iago is still debating with himself concerning the means to perplex Othello. Steevens. “Myself, the while, to draw.” The old copies have awhile. Mr. Theobald made the correction. The modern editors read—Myself, the while, will draw. But the old copies are undoubtedly right. An imperfect sentence was intended. Iago is ruminating on his plan. Malone.

Note return to page 812 3&lblank; bring him jump when &lblank;] Unexpectedly:—an expression taken from the bound, or start, with which we are shocked, at the sudden and unlooked-for appearance of any offensive object. Henley. Jump when, I believe, signifies no more than just at the time when. So, in Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 177, n. 7: “Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 813 4&lblank; and bid—good-morrow, general.] It is the usual practice of the waits, or nocturnal minstrels, in several towns in the North of England, after playing a tune or two, to cry, “Good-morrow, maister such a one, good-morrow, dame,” adding the hour, and state of the weather. It should seem to have prevailed at Stratford-upon-Avon. They formerly used hautboys, which are the wind-instruments here meant. Ritson.

Note return to page 814 5Why, masters, have your instruments been at Naples, that they speak i'the nose thus?] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “And others, when the bagpipe sings i'the nose &lblank;.” Rabelais somewhere speaks of “a blow over the nose with a Naples cowl-staff.” Steevens. The venereal disease first appeared at the siege of Naples. Johnson.

Note return to page 815 6&lblank; of all loves,] The folio reads—for love's sake. The phrase in the text occurs also in The Merry Wives of Windsor. See vol. viii. p. 82. Steevens.

Note return to page 816 7&lblank; for I'll away:] Sir T. Hanmer reads—and hie away. Johnson.

Note return to page 817 8&lblank; vanish into air;] So, the folio and one of the quartos. The eldest quarto reads—Vanish away. Steevens.

Note return to page 818 9&lblank; Thy quillets.] See vol. vii. p. 469. Malone.

Note return to page 819 1&lblank; I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest.] In consequence of this line, a doubt has been entertained concerning the country of Iago. Cassio was undoubtedly a Florentine, as appears by the first scene of the play, where he is expressly called one. That Iago was a Venetian, is proved by a speech in the third scene of this Act, and by what he says in the fifth Act, after having stabbed Roderigo: “Iago. Alas, my dear friend and countryman, Roderigo! “Gra. What, of Venice? “Iago. Yes.” All that Cassio means to say in the passage before us is, I never experienced more honesty and kindness even in any one of my own countrymen, than in this man. Mr. Steevens had made the same observation in another place. Malone. It was made in edit. 1778. Steevens.

Note return to page 820 2For your displeasure;] i. e. the displeasure you have incurred from Othello. Steevens.

Note return to page 821 3To take the saf'st occasion by the front,] This line is wanting in the folio. Steevens.

Note return to page 822 4I am much bound to you.] This speech is omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 823 5&lblank; to the state:] Thus the quarto 1622. Folio,—to the senate. Malone.

Note return to page 824 6As if the case were his.] The folio reads—As if the cause were his. Steevens.

Note return to page 825 7O, sir, I thank you:] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads—I know't, I thank you. Malone.

Note return to page 826 8That policy may either last so long,] He may either of himself think it politick to keep me out of office so long, or he may be satisfied with such slight reasons, or so many accidents may make him think my re-admission at that time improper, that I may be quite forgotten. Johnson.

Note return to page 827 9I'll watch him tame,] It is said, that the ferocity of beasts, insuperable and irreclaimable by any other means, is subdued by keeping them from sleep. Johnson. Hawks and other birds are tamed by keeping them from sleep, and it is to the management of these that Shakspeare alludes. So, in Cartwright's Lady Errant: “&lblank; we'll keep you, “As they do hawks, watching until you leave “Your wildness.” Again, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “&lblank; your only way to deal with women and parrots, is to keep them waking.” Again, in Sir W. D'Avenant's Just Italian, 1630: “They've watch'd my hardy violence so tame.” Again, in The Booke of Haukynge, Huntyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “Wake her all nyght, and on the morrowe all daye, and then she will be previ enough to be reclaymed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 828 1Well, well,] The adverb—well, has been repeated for the sake of measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 829 2His present reconciliation take;] Cassio was to be reconciled to his general, not his general to him, therefore take cannot be right. We should read—make. Warburton. To take his reconciliation, may be to accept the submission which he makes in order to be reconciled. Johnson.

Note return to page 830 3&lblank; and not in cunning.] Cunning, for design, or purpose simply. Warburton. Perhaps rather for knowledge, the ancient sense of the word. So, in Measure for Measure: “In the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself in hazard.” The opposition which seems to have been intended between cunning and ignorance, favours this interpretation. Malone.

Note return to page 831 4I suffer with him.] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads —To suffer with him. Malone.

Note return to page 832 5&lblank; the wars must make examples Out of their best,] The severity of military discipline must not spare the best men of their army, when their punishment may afford a wholesome example. Johnson. The old copies read—her best. Mr. Rowe made this necessary emendation. Malone.

Note return to page 833 6&lblank;so mammering on.] To hesitate, to stand in suspense. The word often occurs in old English writings, and probably takes its original from the French M'Amour, which men were apt often to repeat when they were not prepared to give a direct answer. Hanmer. I find the same word in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “I stand in doubt, or in a mamorynge between hope and fear.” Again, in Thomas Drant's translation of the third satire of the second book of Horace, 1567: “Yea, when she daygnes to send for him, then mameryng he doth doute.” Again, Henry Wotton's address “to the favourable and well willing reader,” prefixed to A courtlie Controversie of Cupids' Cautels, &c. 4to. 1578: “My quill remained (as men say) in a mamorie, quivering in my quaking fingers, before I durst presume to publishe these my fantasies.” Again, in Arthur Hall's translation of the fourth Iliad (4to. 1581): “Hector himself &lblank; “Doth ma&mbar;er eke whats best to do, least,” &c. Steevens. Again, in Lyly's Euphues, 1580: “&lblank; neither stand in a mamering, whether it be best to depart or not.” The quarto 1622 reads—muttering. Mammering is the reading of the folio. Malone.

Note return to page 834 7What! Michael Cassio, That came a wooing with you;] And yet in the first Act Cassio appears perfectly ignorant of the amour, and is indebted to Iago for the information of Othello's marriage, and of the person to whom he is married. Steevens. See the notes on the passage alluded to, p. 244, n. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 835 8&lblank; many a time,] Old copies, redundantly, and without the least improvement of the sense,—so many a time. The compositor had accidentally repeated—so, from the preceding line. Steevens.

Note return to page 836 9&lblank; full of poize &lblank;] i. e. of weight. So, in The Dumb Knight, 1633: “They are of poize sufficient &lblank;.” Again: “But we are all prest down with other poize.” Steevens.

Note return to page 837 1Excellent wretch!—Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! &c.] The meaning of the word wretch, is not generally understood. It is now, in some parts of England, a term of the softest and fondest tenderness. It expresses the utmost degree of amiableness, joined with an idea which perhaps all tenderness includes, of feebleness, softness, and want of protection. Othello, considering Desdemona as excelling in beauty and virtue, soft and timorous by her sex, and by her situation absolutely in his power, calls her, Excellent wretch! It may be expressed: “Dear, harmless, helpless excellence.” Johnson. Sir W. D'Avenant uses the same expression in his Cruel Brother, 1630, and with the same meaning. It occurs twice: “Excellent wretch! with a timorous modesty she stifleth up her utterance.” I am assured by Dr. Farmer, that wretch is provincial in Staffordshire for a young woman. Steevens.

Note return to page 838 2&lblank; when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.] When my love is for a moment suspended by suspicion, I have nothing in my mind but discord, tumult, perturbation, and confusion. Johnson. “&lblank; when I love thee not, “Chaos is come again.” There is another meaning possible: “When I cease to love thee, the world is at an end;” i. e. there remains nothing valuable or important. The first explanation may be more elegant, the second is perhaps more easy. Shakspeare has the same thought in his Venus and Adonis: “For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, “And, beauty dead, black Chaos comes again.” Steevens. This passage does not strike me in the same light in which it appeared to Dr. Johnson; as Othello had not yet any experience of that perturbation and discord, by which he afterwards is so fatally agitated. He means, I think, to say,—“and ere I cease to love thee, the world itself shall be reduced to its primitive chaos.” Shakspeare probably preferred—“chaos is come again,” to “chaos shall come again,” as more bold and expressive. Muretus, a poet of the 16th century, has exactly the same thought: Tune meo elabi possis de pectore, Lacci,   Aut ego, dum vivam, non meminisse tui? Ante, vel istius mundi compage soluta,   Tetras in antiquum sit reditura Chaos. The meaning of Shakspeare appears very clearly from the following passage in The Winter's Tale, where the same thought is more fully expressed: “It cannot fail, but by “The violation of my faith,—and then “Let nature crush the sides o'the earth together, “And mar the seeds within!” Malone. There is the same thought in Buchanan: Cesset amor, pariter cessabunt fœdera rerum; In chaos antiquum cuncta elementa ruent. Vol. II. 400, 1725, 4to. Holt White.

Note return to page 839 4Iago. Indeed? Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed, &c.] I cannot help supposing that this passage is interpolated, and originally stood thus: “Iago. Indeed! “Oth. Indeed:—Discern'st thou ought in that?” See the next note. Steevens.

Note return to page 840 5Ay, honest.] The old copies, violating the measure, read: “Honest? ay, honest.” It appears from many instances, that where words were to be repeated at all, our old blundering printers continued the repetition beyond propriety. Mr. Malone has elsewhere the same remark. Steevens. In the first alteration Mr. Steevens is supported by the quarto 1622, not in the second. Boswell.

Note return to page 841 6By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought, &c.] Thus the eldest quarto. The second quarto reads: “&lblank; Why dost thou echo me, “As if there were some monster in thy thought,” &c. The folio reads: “&lblank; Alas, thou echo'st me, “As if,” &c. Steevens. This is one of the numerous alterations made in the folio copy by the licenser. Malone.

Note return to page 842 *Quarto, counsell.

Note return to page 843 7They are close denotements, working from the heart, That passion cannot rule.] Thus the earliest quarto. But let Dr. Warburton be heard in defence of “cold dilations,” the reading of the second folio. I should willingly, however, have adopted an emendation proposed by Dr. Johnson, in the subsequent note, could I have discovered that the word—delation was ever used in its Roman sense of accusation, during the time of Shakspeare. Bacon frequently employs it, but always to signify carriage or conveyance. Steevens. These stops and breaks are cold dilations, or cold keeping back a secret, which men of phlegmatick constitutions, whose hearts are not swayed or governed by their passions, we find, can do: while more sanguine tempers reveal themselves at once, and without reserve. Warburton. That dilations anciently signified delays, may be ascertained, by the following passage in the Golden Legend, Wynken de Worde's edit. fo. 186: “And ye felony of this kyng suffred not to abyde only dilacyon of vengeance. For the nexte daye folowynge he made to come the kepers for to begyn to turment them,” &c. Again, ibid. p. 199: “And Laurence demaunded dylacyon of thre dayes.” Again, in Candlemas Day, &c. p. 9: “&lblank; I warne you without delacion, “That ye make serch thurgh out all my region.” Steevens. The old copies give,—dilations, except that the earlier quarto has—denotements; which was the author's first expression, afterwards changed by him, not to dilations, but to delations; to occult and secret accusations, working involuntarily from the heart, which, though resolved to conceal the fault, cannot rule its passion of resentment. Johnson. “They are close denotements, &c.” i. e. indications, or recoveries, not openly revealed, but involuntarily working from the heart, which cannot rule and suppress its feelings. The folio reads—They are close dilations; but nothing is got by the change, for dilations was undoubtedly used in the sense of dilatements, or large and full expositions. See Minsheu's Dict. 1617: “To dilate or make large.” Dilatement is used in the sense of dilation by Lodge, our poet's contemporary: “After all this foul weather follows a calm dilatement of others too forward harmfulness.” Rosalynde, or Euphues Golden Legacie, 4to. 1592. Dr. Johnson very elegantly reads—They are close delations. But the objection to this conjectural reading is, that there is strong ground for believing that the word was not used in Shakspeare's age. It is not found in any Dictionary of the time, that I have seen, nor has any passage been quoted in support of it. On the contrary, we find in Minsheu the verb, “To delate,” not signifying, to accuse, but thus interpreted: “to speak at large of any thing, vid. to dilate:” so that if even delations were the word of the old copy, it would mean no more than dilations. To the reading of the quarto no reasonable objection can be made. Malone. Mr. Todd, in his additions to Johnson's Dictionary, has produced an authority for the use of the word delations, in the sense of accusations, from Wotton's Remains, p. 307, edit. 1685, p. 460, edit. 1651. Boswell.

Note return to page 844 *Quarto, presume.

Note return to page 845 8Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none!] I believe the meaning is, ‘'would they might no longer seem, or bear the shape of men.’ Johnson. May not the meaning be, ‘'Would they might not seem honest!’ Malone.

Note return to page 846 9&lblank; that Cassio &lblank;] For the sake of measure, I have ventured to insert the pronoun—that. Steevens. Mr. Steevens arranges these lines thus: “Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. “Iago. Why, then, “I think that Cassio's an honest man.” Boswell.

Note return to page 847 1&lblank; to that all slaves are free to.] I am not bound to do that, which even slaves are not bound to do. Malone. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; O, Pisanio, “Every good servant does not all commands, “No bond but to do just ones.” Steevens.

Note return to page 848 2&lblank; where's that palace, whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not?] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; no perfection is so absolute, “That some impurity doth not pollute.” Malone.

Note return to page 849 3&lblank; who has a breast so pure, But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit With meditations lawful?] Leets, and law-days, are synonymous terms: “Leet (says Jacob, in his Law Dictionary,) is otherwise called a law-day.” They are there explained to be courts, or meetings of the hundred, “to certify the king of the good manners, and government, of the inhabitants,” and to enquire of all offences that are not capital. The poet's meaning will now be plain: ‘Who has a breast so little apt to form ill opinions of others, but that foul suspicion will sometimes mix with his fairest and most candid thoughts, and erect a court in his mind, to enquire of the offences apprehended.’ Steevens. Who has so virtuous a breast that some uncharitable surmises and impure conceptions will not sometimes enter into it; hold a session there as in a regular court, and “bench by the side” of authorised and lawful thoughts?—In our poet's 30th Sonnet we find the same imagery: “When to the sessions of sweet silent thought “I summon up remembrance of things past.” “A leet, (says Bullokar, in his English Expositor, 1616,) is a court or law-day, holden commonly every half year.” To keep a leet was the verbum juris; the title of one of the chapters in Kitchin's book on Courts, being, “The manner of keeping a court-leet.” Malone.

Note return to page 850 4I do beseech you,— Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,] Not to mention that, in this reading, the sentence is abrupt and broken, it is likewise highly absurd. I beseech you give yourself no uneasiness from my unsure observance, though I am vicious in my guess. For his being an ill guesser was a reason why Othello should not be uneasy: in propriety, therefore, it should either have been, ‘though I am not vicious,’ or ‘because I am vicious.’ It appears then we should read: “I do beseech you, “Think, I, perchance, am vicious in my guess &lblank;.” Which makes the sense pertinent and perfect. Warburton. That abruptness in the speech which Dr. Warburton complains of, and would alter, may be easily accounted for. Iago seems desirous by this ambiguous hint, Though I—to inflame the jealousy of Othello, which he knew would be more effectually done in this manner, than by any expression that bore a determinate meaning. The jealous Othello would fill up the pause in the speech, which Iago turns off at last to another purpose, and find a more certain cause of discontent, and a greater degree of torture arising from the doubtful consideration how it might have concluded, than he could have experienced had the whole of what he enquired after been reported to him with every circumstance of aggravation. We may suppose him imagining to himself, that Iago mentally continued the thought thus, ‘Though I—know more than I choose to speak of.’ “Vicious in my guess” does not mean that he is an ill guesser, but that he is apt to put the worst construction on every thing he attempts to account for. Out of respect for the subsequent opinions of Mr. Henley and Mr. Malone, I have altered my former regulation of this passage; though I am not quite convinced that any change was needful. Steevens. I believe nothing is here wanting, but to regulate the punctuation: “Iago. I do beseech you &lblank; “Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess, “As, I confess, it is my nature's plague “To spy into abuses; and, oft, my jealousy “Shapes faults that are not &lblank;,” &c. Henley. The reader should be informed, that the mark of abruption which I have placed after the word you, was placed by Mr. Steevens after the word perchance: and his note, to which I do not subscribe, is founded on that regulation. I think the poet intended that Iago should break off at the end of the first hemistich, as well as in the middle of the fifth line. What he would have added, it is not necessary very nicely to examine. The adversative particle, though, in the second line, does not indeed appear very proper; but in an abrupt and studiously clouded sentence like the present, where more is meant to be conveyed than meets the ear, strict propriety may well be dispensed with. The word perchance, if strongly marked in speaking, would sufficiently show that the speaker did not suppose himself vicious in his guess. By the latter words, Iago, I apprehend, means only, ‘though I perhaps am mistaken, led into an errour by my natural disposition, which is apt to shape faults that have no existence.’ Malone.

Note return to page 851 5&lblank; I entreat you then, &c.] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads: “&lblank; and of, my jealousy “Shapes faults that are not, that your wisdom “From one that so imperfectly conceits, “Would take no notice.” Malone. To conject, i. e. to conjecture, is a word used by other writers. So, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1540: “Now reason I, or conject with myself.” Again: “I cannot forget thy saying, or thy conjecting words.” Steevens.

Note return to page 852 *Quarto, our souls.

Note return to page 853 5Good name, in man, and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse, steals trash, &c.] The sacred writings were here perhaps in our poet's thoughts: “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour than silver and gold.” Proverbs, xxii. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 854 6'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;] Nunc ager Umbreni sub nomine, nuper Ofelli Dictus, erit nulli proprius; sed cedet in usum Nunc mihi, nunc alii. Horat. Sat. lib. ii. 2. Thus translated by Drant, 1567: “Now Umbren's grounde, of late Ofells,   “(A thing not very stable) “Now myne, now thine, so muste we take   “The worlde as variable.” So, in Cambden's Remaines, 1605, 107: Nunc mea, mox hujus, sed postea nescio cujus. Malone.

Note return to page 855 *Omitted in quarto.

Note return to page 856 7&lblank; which doth mock The meat it feeds on;] i. e. loaths that which nourishes and sustains it. This being a miserable state, Iago bids him beware of it. The Oxford editor reads: “&lblank; which doth make “The meat it feeds on.” Implying that its suspicions are unreal and groundless, which is the very contrary to what he would here make his general think, as appears from what follows: “&lblank; That cuckold lives in bliss,” &c. In a word, the villain is for fixing him jealous: and therefore bids him beware of jealousy, not that it was an unreasonable, but a miserable state; and this plunges him into it, as we see by his reply, which is only: “O misery!” Warburton. I have received Hanmer's emendation; because to mock, does not signify to loath; and because, when Iago bids Othello beware of jealousy, the green ey'd monster, it is natural to tell why he should beware, and for caution he gives him two reasons, that jealousy often creates its own cause, and that, when the causes are real, jealousy is misery. Johnson. In this place, and some others, to mock seems the same with to mammock. Farmer. If Shakspeare had written—a green ey'd monster, we might have supposed him to refer to some creature existing only in his particular imagination; but “the green-ey'd monster” seems to have reference to an object as familiar to his readers as to himself. It is known that the tiger kind have green eyes, and always play with the victim to their hunger, before they devour it. So, in our author's Tarquin and Lucrece: “Like foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally, “While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth &lblank;.” Thus, a jealous husband, who discovers no certain cause why he may be divorced, continues to sport with the woman whom he suspects, and, on more certain evidence, determines to punish. There is no beast that can be literally said to make its own food, and therefore I am unwilling to receive the emendation of Sir Thomas Hanmer, especially as I flatter myself that a glimpse of meaning may be produced from the old reading. One of the ancient senses of the verb—to mock, is to amuse, to play with. Thus, in A Discourse of Gentlemen Lying in London that were better keep House at Home in their Country, 1593: “A fine deuise to keepe poore Kate in health, “A pretty toy to mock an ape withal.” i. e. a pretty toy to divert an ape, for an ape to divert himself with. The same phrase occurs in Marston's Satires, the ninth of the third book being intitled “&lblank; Here's a toy to mocke an ape,” &c. i. e. afford an ape materials for sport, furnish him with a plaything, though perhaps at his own expence, as the phrase may in this instance be ironically used. In Antony and Cleopatra, the contested word—mock, occurs again: “&lblank; tell him “He mocks the pauses that he makes.” i. e. he plays wantonly with those intervals of time which he should improve to his own preservation. Should such an explanation be admissible, the advice given by Iago will amount to this:—“Beware, my lord, of yielding to a passion which as yet has no proofs to justify its excess. Think how the interval between suspicion and certainty must be filled. Though you doubt her fidelity, you cannot yet refuse her your bed, or drive her from your heart; but, like the capricious savage, must continue to sport with one whom you wait for an opportunity to destroy.” A similar idea occurs in All's Well that Ends Well: “&lblank; so lust doth play “With what it loaths.” Such is the only sense I am able to draw from the original text. What I have said, may be liable to some objections, but I have nothing better to propose. That jealousy is a monster which often creates the suspicions on which it feeds, may be well admitted, according to Sir Thomas Hanmer's proposition; but is it the monster? (i. e. the well-known and conspicuous animal) or whence has it green eyes? Yellow is the colour which Shakspeare usually appropriates to jealousy. It must be acknowledged, that he afterwards characterizes it as— “&lblank; a monster, “Begot upon itself, born on itself.” But yet— “&lblank; What damned minutes tells he o'er,” &c. is the best illustration of my attempt to explain the passage. To produce Sir Thomas Hanmer's meaning, a change in the text is necessary. I am counsel for the old reading. Steevens. It is so difficult, if not impossible, to extract any sense from this passage as it stands, even by the most forced construction of it, and the slight amendment proposed by Hanmer, renders it so clear, elegant, and poetical, that I am surprized the editors hesitate in adopting it, and still more surprized they should reject it. As for Steeven's objection, that the definite article is used, not the indefinite, he surely need not be told that Shakspeare did not regard such minute inaccuracies, which may be found in every play he wrote. When Steevens compares the jealous man, who continues to sport with the woman he suspects, and is determined to destroy, to the tiger who plays with the victim of his hunger, he forgets that the meat on which jealousy is supposed to feed, is not the woman who is the object of it, but the several circumstances of suspicion which jealousy itself creates, and which cause and nourish it. So Emilia at the end of the third Act in answer to Desdemona, who, speaking of Othello's jealousy, says: “Alas the day! I never gave him cause;” replies,— “But jealous fools will not be answer'd so, “They are not jealous ever for the cause, “But jealous, for they are jealous: 'tis a monster “Begot upon itself, born on itself.” This passage is a strong confirmation of Hanmer's reading. The same idea occurs in Massinger's Picture, where Matthias, speaking of the groundless jealousy he entertained of Sophia's possible inconstancy, says: “&lblank; but why should I nourish, “A fury here, and with imagin'd food, “Holding no real ground on which to raise “A building of suspicion she was ever, “Or can be false?” Imagin'd food, is food created by imagination, the food that jealousy makes and feeds on. M. Mason. In order to make way for one alteration, Mr. M. Mason is forced to foist in another; or else poor Shakspeare must be arraigned for a blunder of which he is totally guiltless. This gentleman's objections both to the text in its present state, and to Mr. Steevens's most happy illustration of it, originate entirely in his own misconception, and a jumble of figurative with literal expressions. To have been consistent with himself he should have charged Mr. Steevens with maintaining, that it was the property of a jealous husband, first to mock his wife, and afterwards to eat her. In Act V. the word mocks occurs in a sense somewhat similar to that in the passage before us: “Emil. O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love!” Henley. I think myself particularly indebted to Mr. Henley for the support he has given to my sentiments concerning this difficult passage; and shall place more confidence in them since they have been found to deserve his approbation. Steevens. I have not the smallest doubt that Shakspeare wrote make, and have therefore inserted it in my text. The words make and mocke (for such was the old spelling) are often confounded in these plays. Mr. Steevens in his paraphrase on this passage interprets the word mock by sport; but in what poet or prose-writer, from Chaucer and Mandeville to this day, does the verb to mock, signify to sport with! In the passage from Antony and Cleopatra, I have proved, I think, incontestably, from the metre, and from our poet's usage of this verb in other places, (in which it is followed by a personal pronoun,) that Shakspeare must have written— “Being so frustrate, tell him, he mocks us by “The pauses that he makes.” See Antony and Cleopatra, Act V. Sc. I. Besides; is it true as a general position that jealousy, (as jealousy) sports or plays with the object of love (allowing this not very delicate interpretation of the words, the meat it feeds on, to be the true one)? The position certainly is not true. It is Love, not Jealousy, that sports with the object of its passion; nor can those circumstances which create suspicion, and which are the meat it feeds on, with any propriety be called the food of love, when the poet has clearly pointed them out as the food or cause of jealousy; giving it not only being, but nutriment. “There is no beast,” it is urged, “that can literally be said to make its own food.” It is indeed acknowledged, that jealousy is a monster which often creates the suspicions on which it feeds, but is it, we are asked, “the monster? (i. e. a well-known and conspicuous animal;) and whence has it green eyes? Yellow is the colour which Shakspeare appropriates to jealousy.” To this I answer, that yellow is not the only colour which Shakspeare appropriates to jealousy, for we have in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; shuddering fear, and green-ey'd jealousy.” and I suppose it will not be contended that he was there thinking of any of the tiger kind. If our poet had written only—“It is the green-ey'd monster; beware of it;” the other objection would hold good, and some particular monster, &grk;&gra;&grt;&grap; &gre;&grc;&gro;&grx;&grh;&grn;, must have been meant; but the words, “It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth,” &c. in my apprehension have precisely the same meaning, as if the poet had written, “It is that green-ey'd monster, which,” &c. or, “it is a green-ey'd monster.” He is the man in the world whom I would least wish to meet,—is the common phraseology of the present day. When Othello says to Iago in a former passage, “By heaven, he echoes me, as if there were some monster in his thought,” does any one imagine that any animal whatever was meant? The passage in a subsequent scene, to which Mr. Steevens has alluded, strongly supports the emendation which has been made: “&lblank; jealousy will not be answer'd so; “They are not ever jealous for the cause, “But jealous, for they are jealous: 'tis a monster, “Begot upon itself, born on itself.” It is, strictly speaking, as false that any monster can be begot, or born, on itself, as it is, that any monster (whatever may be the colour of its eyes, whether green or yellow,) can make its own food; but, poetically, both are equally true of that monster, jealousy. Mr. Steevens seems to have been aware of this, and therefore has added the word literally: “No monster can be literally said to make its own food.” It should always be remembered, that Shakspeare's allusions scarcely ever answer precisely on both sides; nor had he ever any care upon this subject. Though he has introduced the word monster,—when he talked of its making its own food, and being begot by itself, he was still thinking of jealousy only, careless whether there was any animal in the world that would correspond with this description. That by the words, “the meat it feeds on,” is meant, not Desdemona herself, as has been maintained, but pabulum zelotypiæ, may be likewise inferred from a preceding passage in which a kindred imagery is found: “That policy may either last so long, “Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,” &c. And this obvious interpretation is still more strongly confirmed by Daniel's Rosamond, 1592, a poem which Shakspeare had diligently read, and has more than once imitated in Romeo and Juliet: “O Jealousy &lblank; “Feeding upon suspect that doth renew thee, “Happy were lovers, if they never knew thee.” In this and the few other places in which I have ventured to depart from the ancient copies, I have thought it my duty to state in the fullest and clearest manner the grounds on which the emendation stands: which in some cases I have found not easily accomplished, without running into greater prolixity than would otherwise be justifiable. Malone.

Note return to page 857 8&lblank; strongly loves!] Thus the folio; the quarto—soundly loves. Steevens.

Note return to page 858 9Poor, and content is rich, and rich enough;] So, in Dorastus and Fawnia, (the novel on which The Winter's Tale is formed,) 1592: “We are rich, in that we are poor with content.” Malone. The same sentiment, which is sufficiently common, is amplified by Dryden in his Indian Emperor: “We to ourselves will all our wishes grant; “For nothing coveting, we nothing want.” Steevens.

Note return to page 859 1But riches, fineless,] Unbounded, endless, unnumbered treasures. Johnson.

Note return to page 860 2&lblank; as poor as winter,] Finely expressed: winter producing no fruits. Warburton.

Note return to page 861 3To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,] [Sir Thomas Hanmer—exsuffolate.] This odd and far-fetched word was made more uncouth in all the editions before Sir Thomas Hanmer's, by being printed—exsufflicate. The allusion is to a bubble. Do not think, says the Moor, that I shall change the noble designs that now employ my thoughts, to suspicions which, like bubbles blown into a wide extent, have only an empty show without solidity; or that, in consequence of such empty fears, I will close with thy inference against the virtue of my wife. Johnson. Whether our poet had any authority for the word exsufflicate, which I think is used in the sense of swollen, and appears to have been formed from sufflatus, I am unable to ascertain: but I have not thought it safe to substitute for it another word equally unauthorised. Suffolare in Italian signifies to whistle. How then can Dr. Johnson's interpretation of exsuffolate be supported? The introducer of this word explains it, by “whispered, buzz'd in the ears.” Malone. It seems to me that all the criticks have overlooked the meaning of the passage. Exsufflicate may be traced to the low Latin exsufflare, to spit down upon, an ancient form of exorcising; and figuratively, to spit out in abhorrence or contempt. See Du Cange in v. Exsufflare. Exsufflicate may thus signify contemptible: and Othello may be supposed to mean, that he would not change the noble designs that then employed his thoughts for contemptible and despicable surmises. Johnson's Dictionary by Todd, v. Exsuffolate. Boswell.

Note return to page 862 4&lblank; blown surmises, Matching thy inference.] That is,—such as you have mentioned in describing the torments of jealousy. The part of Iago's speech particularly alluded to, is that where he says: “But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er, “Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!” M. Mason.

Note return to page 863 5Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:] An action in itself indifferent, grows virtuous by its end and application. Johnson. I know not why the modern editors, in opposition to the first quarto and folio, read most, instead of more. A passage in All's Well That Ends Well, is perhaps the best comment on the sentiment of Othello: “I have those good hopes of her, education promises: his disposition she inherits: which makes fair gifts fairer.” Gratior e pulchro veniens et corpore virtus. Steevens. Most was arbitrarily introduced by the ignorant editor of the second folio. Malone.

Note return to page 864 6Out of self-bounty be abus'd;] Self-bounty, for inherent generosity. Warburton.

Note return to page 865 7&lblank; our country disposition &lblank; In Venice &lblank;] Here Iago seems to be a Venetian. Johnson. There is nothing in any other part of the play, properly understood, to imply otherwise. Henley. Various other passages, as well as the present, prove him to have been a Venetian, nor is there any ground for doubting the poet's intention on this head. See p. 343, n. 1. Malone.

Note return to page 866 8Is—not to leave undone, but keep unknown.] The folio perhaps more clearly reads: “Is not to leav't undone, but keep't unknown.” Steevens. The folio, by evident error of the press, reads—kept unknown. Malone.

Note return to page 867 9And, when she seem'd &lblank;] This and the following argument of Iago ought to be deeply impressed on every reader. Deceit and falsehood, whatever conveniences they may for a time promise or produce, are in the sum of life, obstacles to happiness. Those, who profit by the cheat, distrust the deceiver, and the act by which kindness is sought, puts an end to confidence. The same objection may be made with a lower degree of strength against the imprudent generosity of disproportionate marriages. When the first heat of passion is over, it is easily succeeded by suspicion, that the same violence of inclination, which caused one irregularity, may stimulate to another; and those who have shown, that their passions are too powerful for their prudence, will, with very slight appearances against them, be censured, as not very likely to restrain them by their virtue. Johnson.

Note return to page 868 1To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak,] The oak is (I believe) the most close-grained wood of general use in England. Close as oak, means, close as the grain of oak. To seel is an expression from falconry. So, in Ben Jonson's Catiline: “&lblank; would have kept “Both eyes and beak seel'd up, for six sesterces.” Steevens. To seel a hawk is to sew up his eye-lids. In The Winter's Tale, Paulina says: “The root of his opinion, which is rotten “As ever oak, or stone, was sound.” Malone.

Note return to page 869 *Quarto, I'faith.

Note return to page 870 2To grosser issues,] Issues, for conclusions. Warburton.

Note return to page 871 3My speech should fall into such vile success &lblank;] Success, for succession, i. e. conclusion; not prosperous issue. Warburton. I rather think there is a depravation, and would read: “My speech will fall into such vile excess.” If success be the right word, it seems to mean consequence or event, as successo is used in Italian. Johnson. I think success may, in this instance, bear its common interpretation. What Iago means seems to be this: “Should you do so, my lord, my words would be attended by such an infamous degree of success, as my thoughts do not even aim at.” Iago, who counterfeits the feelings of virtue, might have said fall into success, and vile success, because he would appear to Othello, to wish that the enquiry into Desdemona's guilt might prove fruitless and unsuccessful. See Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 274, n. 1. Steevens. The following passages will perhaps be considered as proofs of Dr. Johnson's explanation: “Then the poor desolate women, fearing least their case would sorte to some pitifull successe.” Palace of Pleasure, bl. 1. “God forbyd all hys hope should turne to such successe.” Promos and Cassandra, 1578. Henderson. So, in Sidney's Arcadia, p. 39, edit. 1613: “Straight my heart misgave me some evil success!” It is thus used as late as by Barrow: “Yea to a person so disposed, that success which seemeth most adverse justly may be reputed the best and most happy.” Boswell.

Note return to page 872 *Quarto, trusty.

Note return to page 873 *Quarto, Fie.

Note return to page 874 4&lblank; a will most rank,] Will, is for wilfulness. It is so used by Ascham. A rank will, is self-will overgrown and exuberant. Johnson.

Note return to page 875 †First folio, Although 'tis fit.

Note return to page 876 5You shall by that perceive him and his means:] You shall discover whether he thinks his best means, his most powerful interest, is by the solicitation of your lady. Johnson.

Note return to page 877 6&lblank; strain his entertainment &lblank;] Press hard his re-admission to his pay and office. Entertainment was the military term for admission of soldiers. Johnson. So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; the centurions, and their charges, distinctly billeted, and already in the entertainment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 878 7Fear not my government.] Do not distrust my ability to contain my passion. Johnson.

Note return to page 879 8&lblank; with a learned spirit,] Learned, for experienced. Warburton. The construction is, He knows with a learned spirit all qualities of human dealings. Johnson.

Note return to page 880 9&lblank; If I do prove her haggard,] A haggard hawk, is a wild hawk, a hawk unreclaimed, or irreclaimable. Johnson. A haggard is a particular species of hawk. It is difficult to be reclaimed, but not irreclaimable. From a passage in The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona, 1612, it appears that haggard was a term of reproach sometimes applied to a wanton: “Is this your perch, you haggard? fly to the stews.” Turbervile says, that “haggart falcons are the most excellent birds of all other falcons.” Latham gives to the haggart only the second place in the valued file. In Holland's Leaguer, a comedy, by Shakerly Marmyon, 1633, is the following illustrative passage: “Before these courtiers lick their lips at her, “I'll trust a wanton haggard in the wind.” Again: “For she is ticklish as any haggard, “And quickly lost.” Again, in Two Wise Men, and All the Rest Fools, 1619: “&lblank; the admirable conquest the faulconer maketh in a hawk's nature; bringing the wild haggard, having all the earth and seas to scour over uncontroulably, to attend and obey,” &c. Haggard, however, had a popular sense, and was used for wild by those who thought not on the language of falconers. Steevens.

Note return to page 881 1Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,] Jesses are short straps of leather tied about the foot of a hawk, by which she is held on the fist. Hanmer. In Heywood's comedy, called, A Woman Killed With Kindness, 1617, a number of these terms relative to hawking occur together: “Now she hath seiz'd the fowl, and 'gins to plume her; “Rebeck her not; rather stand still and check her. “So: seize her gets, her jesses, and her bells.” Steevens.

Note return to page 882 2I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune.] The falconers always let fly the hawk against the wind; if she flies with the wind behind her, she seldom returns. If therefore a hawk was for any reason to be dismissed, she was let down the wind, and from that time shifted for herself, and preyed at fortune. This was told me by the late Mr. Clark. Johnson. This passage may possibly receive illustration from a similar one in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 2, sect. i. mem. 3: “As a long-winged hawke, when he is first whistled off the fist, mounts aloft, and for his pleasure fetcheth many a circuit in the ayre, still soaring higher and higher, till he comes to his full pitch, and in the end, when the game is sprung, comes down amaine, and stoupes upon a sudden.” Percy. Again, in The Spanish Gipsie, 1653, by Middleton and Rowley: “&lblank; That young lannerd, “Whom you have such a mind to; if you can whistle her “To come to fist, make trial, play the young falconer.” A lannerd is a species of a hawk. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca: “&lblank; he that basely “Whistled his honour off to the wind,” &c. Steevens. “Have you not seen, when whistled from the fist,   “Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, “And, with her eagerness the quarry miss'd,   “Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind.” Dryden. Ann. Mirabil. Blakeway.

Note return to page 883 3&lblank; parts of conversation &lblank;] Parts seem here to be synonymous with arts, as in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, Act II. speaking of singing and musick: “They are parts I love.” Reed.

Note return to page 884 4&lblank; chamberers &lblank;] i. e. men of intrigue. So, in the Countess of Pembroke's Antonius, 1590: “Fal'n from a souldier to a chamberer.” Again, in Chaucer's Romaunt of the Rose, v. 4935: “Only through youth the chamberere.” Thus, in the French Poem: Par la jeunesse la chambriere. Steevens. Chambering and wantonness are mentioned together in the sacred writings. Malone. The sense of chamberers may be ascertained from Rom. xiii. 13. where &grm;&grh; &grK;&grO;&grI;&grT;&grA;&grI;&grST; is rendered, in the common version, “not in chambering.” Henley.

Note return to page 885 5Prerogativ'd are they less than the base;] In asserting that the base have more prerogative in this respect than the great, that is, that the base or poor are less likely to endure this forked plague, our poet has maintained a doctrine contrary to that laid down in As You Like It:—“Horns? even so.—Poor men alone? No, no: the noblest deer has them as huge as the rascal.” Here we find all mankind are placed on a level in this respect, and that it is “destiny unshunnable, like death.” Shakspeare would have been more consistent if he had written: “Prerogativ'd are they more than the base?” Othello would then have answered his own question: [No:] 'Tis destiny, &c. Malone. Allowance must be made to the present state of Othello's mind: passion is seldom correct in its effusions. Stevens.

Note return to page 886 6'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death;] To be consistent, Othello must mean, that it is destiny unshunnable by great ones, not by all mankind. Malone.

Note return to page 887 7&lblank; forked plague &lblank;] In allusion to a barbed or forked arrow, which, once infixed, cannot be extracted. Johnson. Or rather, the forked plague is the cuckold's horns. Percy. Dr. Johnson may be right. I meet with the same thought in Middleton's comedy of A Mad World my Masters, 1608: “While the broad arrow, with the forked head, “Misses his brows but narrowly.” Again, in King Lear: “&lblank; though the fork invade “The region of my heart.” Steevens. I have no doubt that Dr. Percy's interpretation is the true one. Let our poet speak for himself. “Quoth she,” says Pandarus. in Troilus and Cressida, “which of these hairs is Paris, my husband? The forked one,” quoth he; “pluck it out, and give it him.” Again, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; o'er head and ears a fork'd one.” So, in Tarleton's News out of Purgatorie: “&lblank; but the old squire, knight of the forked order &lblank;.” One of Sir John Harrington's Epigrams, in which our poet's very expression is found, puts the matter beyond a doubt: “Actæon guiltless unawares espying “Naked Diana bathing in her bowre, “Was plagu'd with hornes; his dogs did him devoure; “Wherefore take heed, ye that are curious, prying, “With some such forked plague you be not smitten, “And in your foreheads see your faults be written.” Malone.

Note return to page 888 8&lblank; Desdemona comes:] Thus the quartos. The folio reads —Look where she comes. Steevens.

Note return to page 889 9If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!] i. e. renders its own labours fuitless, by forming so beautiful a creature as Desdemona, and suffering the elegance of her person to be disgraced and sullied by the impurity of her mind.—Such, I think, is the meaning. —The construction, however, may be different. If she be false, O, then even heaven itself cheats us with “unreal mockeries,” with false and specious appearances, intended only to deceive. Malone. The first of the foregoing explanations, is, I believe, the true one.—“If she be false, heaven disgraces itself by creating woman after its own image. To have made the resemblance perfect, she should have been good as well as beautiful.” Steevens.

Note return to page 890 1&lblank; the generous islanders &lblank;] Are the islanders of rank, distinction. So, in Measure for Measure: “The generous and gravest citizens “Have hent the gates.” Generous has here the power of generosus, Lat. This explanation, however, may be too particular. Steevens.

Note return to page 891 2I am to blame, &c.] These speeches are thus given in the folio: “Oth. I am to blame. “Des. Why do you speak so faintly? “Are you not well? “Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.” Boswell.

Note return to page 892 3Your napkin, &c.] Ray says, that a pocket handkerchief is so called about Sheffield in Yorkshire. So, in Greene's Never too Late, 1616: “I can wet one of my new lockeram napkins with weeping.” Napery signifies linen in general. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “&lblank; prythee put me into wholesome napery.” Again, in Chapman's May Day, 1611: “Besides your munition of manchet, napery, plates,” &c. Again, in Hide Park, by Shirley, 1637: “A gentleman that loves clean napery.” Naperia, Ital. Steevens. In the North of England, and in Scotland, this term for a handkerchief is still used. The word occurs in Macbeth, Julius Cæsar, and many other of these plays. Malone.

Note return to page 893 4&lblank; I'll have the work ta'en out,] That is, copied. Her first thoughts are, to have a copy made of it for her husband, and restore the original to Desdemona. But the sudden coming in of Iago, in a surly humour, makes her alter her resolution, to please him. The same phrase afterwards occurs between Cassio and Bianca, in Scene IV. Blackstone. This scheme of getting the work of this valued handkerchief copied, and restoring the original to Desdemona, was, I suppose, introduced by the poet, to render Emilia less unamiable. It is remarkable, that when she perceives Othello's fury on the loss of this token, though she is represented as affectionate to her mistress, she never attempts to relieve her from her distress; which she might easily have done by demanding the handkerchief from her husband, or divulging the story, if he refused to restore it.—But this would not have served the plot. Shakspeare fell into this incongruity by departing from Cinthio's novel; for there, while the artless Desdemona is caressing the child of Othello's ancient, (the Iago of our play,) the villain steals the handkerchief which hung at her girdle, without the knowledge of his wife. Malone.

Note return to page 894 5I nothing, but to please his fantasy.] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads: “I nothing know but for his fantasy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 895 5&lblank; to the advantage, &c.] I being opportunely here, took it up. Johnson. So, Marlowe's King Edward II.: “And there stay time's advantage with your son.” Reed.

Note return to page 896 6Be not you known of't;] i. e. seem as if you knew nothing of the matter. The folio reads—Be not acknown on't; meaning, perhaps,—“do not acknowledge any thing of the matter.” This word occurs also in the seventh book of Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis: “Howbeit I durst not be so bolde of hope acknowne to be.” Again, in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, p. 212: “&lblank; so would I not have a translatour be ashamed to be acknowen of his translation.” Steevens. Again, in The Life of Ariosto, subjoined to Sir John Harrington's translation of Orlando, p. 418, edit. 1607: “Some say, he was married to her privilie, but durst not be acknowne of it. Porson. “Be not you known of't”. Thus the quarto, except that it has on't, the vulgar corruption in speaking and writing, of of't or of it; as is proved by various passages in these plays as exhibited in the folio and quarto, where in one copy we find the corrupt and in the other the genuine words; and both having the same meaning. The participial adjective, found in the folio, is used by Thomas Kyd, in his Cornelia, a tragedy, 1594: “Our friend's misfortune doth increase our own. “Cic. But ours of others will not be acknown.” Malone.

Note return to page 897 7The Moor already, &c.] Thus the folio. The line is not in the original copy, 1622. Malone.

Note return to page 898 8&lblank; I did say so;] As this passage is supposed to be obscure, I shall attempt an explanation of it. Iago first ruminates on the qualities of the passion which he is labouring to excite; and then proceeds to comment on its effects. “Jealousy (says he) with the smallest operation on the blood, flames out with all the violence of sulphur,” &c. “&lblank; I did say so; “Look where he comes &lblank;!” i. e. I knew that the least touch of such a passion would not permit the Moor to enjoy a moment of repose:—I have just said that jealousy is a restless commotion of the mind; and look where Othello approaches, to confirm the propriety and justice of my observation. Steevens. As Mr. Steevens has by his interpretation elicited some meaning (though I still think an obscure one) out of this difficult hemistich, I readily retract an amendment I had formerly proposed, being of opinion that such bold and licentious conjectures can never be warranted, unless where the sense is quite desperate. Blackstone.

Note return to page 899 9&lblank; nor mandragora.] The mandragoras or mandrake has a soporifick quality, and the ancients used it when they wanted an opiate of the most powerful kind. So, Antony and Cleopatra, Act I. Sc. VI.: “&lblank; give me to drink mandragora, “That I may sleep out this great gap of time “My Antony is away.” Steevens.

Note return to page 900 1Which thou ow'dst yesterday,] To owe is, in our author, oftener to possess, than to be indebted, and such is its meaning here. Johnson.

Note return to page 901 2What sense had I, &c.] A similar passage to this and what follows it, is found in an unpublished tragi-comedy by Thomas Middleton, called The Witch: “I feele no ease; the burthen's not yet off, “So long as the abuse sticks in my knowledge. “Oh, tis a paine of hell to know one's shame! “Had it byn hid and don, it had been don happy, “For he that's ignorant lives long and merry.” Again: “Had'st thou byn secret, then had I byn happy, “And had a hope (like man) of joies to come. “Now here I stand a stayne to my creation; “And, which is heavier than all torments to me, “The understanding of this base adultery,” &c. This is uttered by a jealous husband who supposes himself to have just destroyed his wife. Again, Iago says: “Dangerous conceits, &c. “&lblank; with a little act upon the blood, “Burn like the mines of sulphur.” Thus Sebastian, in Middleton's play: “When a suspect doth catch once, it burnes maynely.” A scene between Francisca and her brother Antonio, when she first excites his jealousy, has likewise several circumstances in common with the dialogue which passes between Iago and Othello on the same subject. This piece also contains a passage very strongly resembling another in Hamlet, who says: “I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hand-saw.” —Thus, Almachildes: “There is some difference betwixt my joviall condition and the lunary state of madness. I am not quight out of my witts: I know a bawd from an aqua-vitæ shop, a strumpet from wild-fire, and a beadle from brimstone.” For a further account of this MS. play, see in vol. ii. a note on Mr. Malone's Attempt to ascertain the Order in which the Pieces of Shakspeare were written:— Article, Macbeth. Steevens.

Note return to page 902 3I slept the next night well, was free and merry;] Thus the quartos. The folio reads— “I slept the next night well; fed well; was free and merry.” Steevens.

Note return to page 903 4&lblank; if the general camp, Pioneers and all,] That is, the most abject and vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally degraded soldiers, appointed to the office of pioneer, as a punishment for misbehaviour. “A soldier ought ever to retaine and keepe his arms in saftie and forth comming, for he is more to be detested than a coward, that will lose or play away any part thereof, or refuse it for his ease, or to avoid paines; wherefore such a one is to be dismissed with punishment, or to be made some abject pioner.” The Art of War and England Traynings, &c. by Edward Davies, Gent. 1619. So, in The Laws and Ordinances of War, established by the Earl of Essex, printed in 1640: “If a trooper shall loose his horse or hackney, or a footman any part of his arms, by negligence or lewdnesse, by dice or cardes; he or they shall remain in qualitie of pioners, or scavengers, till they be furnished with as good as were lost, at their own charge.” Grose.

Note return to page 904 *First folio, troops.

Note return to page 905 5Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, &lblank; Farewell the neighing steed, &c.] In a very ancient drama entitled Common Conditions, printed about 1576, Sedmond, who has lost his sister in a wood, thus expresses his grief: “But farewell now, my coursers brave, attraped to the ground! “Farewell! adue all pleasures eke, with comely hauke and hounde! “Farewell, ye nobles all, farewell eche marsial knight, “Farewell, ye famous ladies all, in whom I did delight! “Adue, my native soile, adue, Arbaccus kyng, “Adue, eche wight, and amrsial knight, adue, eche living thyng!” One is almost tempted to think that Shakspeare had read this old play. I produced the above passage some years ago, as bearing a resemblance which I still think it does, to Shakspeare: but this speech of Othello's may rather have been suggested by a poem of George Peeles: “A Farewell, entituled to the Famous and Fortunate Generalls of our English Forces, Sir John Norris and Syr Francis Drake, 1589;” where we meet with the following lines: “Change love for armes; gyrt to your blades, my boyes; “Your rests and muskets take, take helme and targe, “And let God Mars his consort make you mirth, “The roaring cannon, and the brazen trumpe, “The angry-sounding drum, the whistling fife, “The shriekes of men, the princelie coursers ney.” Malone. I know not why we should suppose that Shakspeare borrowed so common a repetition as these diversified farewells from any preceding drama. A string of adieus is perhaps the most tempting of all repetitions, because it serves to introduce a train of imagery, as well as to solemnify a speech or composition. Wolsey, like Othello, indulges himself in many farewells; and the Valete, aprica montium cacumina! Valete, opaca vallium cubilia! &c. are common to poets of different ages and countries. I have now before me an ancient MS. English poem, in which sixteen succeeding verses begin with the word farewell, applied to a variety of objects and circumstances: “Farewell prowesse in purpell pall,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 906 6The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,] In mentioning the fife joined with the drum, Shakspeare, as usual, paints from the life; those instruments accompanying each other being used in his age by the English soldiery. The fife, however, as a martial instrument, was afterwards entirely discontinued among our troops for many years, but at length revived in the war before the last. It is commonly supposed that our soldiers borrowed it from the Highlanders in the last rebellion: but I do not know that the fife is peculiar to the Scotch, or even used at all by them. It was first used within the memory of man among our troops by the British guards, by order of the Duke of Cumberland, when they were encamped at Maestricht, in the year 1747, and thence soon adopted into other English regiments of infantry. They took it from the Allies with whom they served. This instrument, accompanying the drum, is of considerable antiquity in the European armies, particularly the German. In a curious picture in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, painted 1525, representing the siege of Pavia by the French King, where the emperor was taken prisoner, we see fifes and drums. In an old English treatise written by William Garrard before 1587, and published by one captain Hitchcock in 1591, intituled The Art of Warre, there are several wood cuts of military evolutions, in which these instruments are both introduced. In Rymer's Fœdera, in a diary of King Henry's siege of Bulloigne, 1544, mention is made of the drommes and viffleurs marching at the head of the King's army. Tom. xv. p. 53. The drum and fife were also much used at ancient festivals, shows, and processions. Gerard Leigh, in his Accidence of Armorie, printed in 1576, describing a Christmas magnificently celebrated at the Inner Temple, says, “We entered the prince his hall, where anon we heard the noyse of drum and fife.” p. 119. At a stately masque on Shrove-Sunday, 1510, in which King Henry VIII. was an actor, Holinshed mentions the entry “of a drum and fife apparelled in white damaske and grene bonnettes.” Chron. iii. 805, col. 2. There are many more instances in Holinshed and Stowe's Survey of London. From the old French word viffleur, above-cited, came the English word whiffler, which anciently was used in its proper literal sense. Strype, speaking of a grand tilting before the court in Queen Mary's reign, 1554, says, from an old journal, that King Philip and the challengers entered the lists, preceded by “their whifflers, their footmen, and their armourers.” Eccles. Memor. iii. p. 211. This explains the use of the word in Shakspeare, where it is also literally applied. King Henry V. Act IV. Sc. ult.: “&lblank; behold the British beach “Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys, “Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea, “Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king, “Seems to prepare his way.” By degrees, the word whiffler hence acquired the metaphorical meaning, which it at present obtains in common speech, and became an appellation of contempt. Whiffler, a light trivial character, a fellow hired to pipe at processions. T. Warton. In the old dramatick piece, intitled, Wine, Beer, Ale, and Tobacco, 2d edit. 1630, Tobacco says to Beer: “&lblank; it will become your duty to obey me.” To which Wine replies: “You our sovereign! a mere whiffler!” Again, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “&lblank; he was known “But only for a swaggering whiffler.” Steevens.

Note return to page 907 7Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!] Sir W. D'Avenant does not appear to have been scrupulous of adopting almost Shakspeare's own words. So, in Albovine, 1629: “Then glorious war, and all proud circumstance “That gives a soldier noise, for evermore farewell.” Steevens. Fletcher has imitated this passage of Othello, in his Prophetess, which was first represented in May, 1622: “&lblank; and to keep “My faith untainted, farewel pride, and pomp, “And circumstance of glorious majesty, “Farewel, for ever!” Malone.

Note return to page 908 8&lblank; whose rude throats &lblank;] So, Milton, Paradise Lost, b. vi.: “From those deep-throated engines,” &c. The quarto 1622 reads—whose wide throats. Steevens.

Note return to page 909 9&lblank; mine eternal soul,] Perhaps the quarto 1622 more forcibly reads— “&lblank; man's eternal soul &lblank;.” Shakspeare might have designed an opposition between man and dog. Steevens.

Note return to page 910 1Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,] Thus, in Chapman's translation of the sixth Iliad: “&lblank; that had been better born “A dog, than such a horrid dame.” Steevens.

Note return to page 911 *Quarto, man's.

Note return to page 912 2&lblank; abandon all remorse;] All tenderness of nature, all pity; in which sense, as Mr. Steevens has justly observed, the word was frequently used in Shakspeare's time. See p. 391, n. 1. The next line shows it is used in this sense here. Malone.

Note return to page 913 3Do deeds to make heaven weep,] So, in Measure for Measure: “Plays such fantastick tricks before high heaven “As make the angels weep.” Steevens.

Note return to page 914 *First folio, forgive.

Note return to page 915 4That liv'st &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The folio—that lov'st. Steevens.

Note return to page 916 5&lblank; since &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The folio,—sith, an antiquated word, with the same meaning. It occurs again in p. 386, l. 2. Steevens.

Note return to page 917 6By the world, &c.] This speech is not in the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 918 7&lblank; Her name, &c.] The folio, where alone this speech is found—My name. A similar image is found in Lust's Dominion, by Marlowe, where the Moor says: “&lblank; Cardinal, this disgrace “Shall dye thy soul as inky as my face.” Malone.

Note return to page 919 8&lblank; If there be cords, or knives, Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, I'll not endure it.] So, in Pericles: “If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, “Untied I still my virgin knot will keep,” Malone.

Note return to page 920 9Behold her tupp'd?] A ram in Staffordshire and some other counties is called a tup. So, in the first Act: “&lblank; an old black ram “Is tupping your white ewe.” Steevens. The old copies have—topp'd. Mr. Theobald made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 921 1Were they as prime as goats.] Prime is prompt, from the Celtick or British prim. Hanmer. From prim, forward; French. Ritson. So, in The Vow-breaker, or the Faire Maide of Clifton, 1636: “More prime than goats or monkies in their prides.” Again, in Churchyard's Dreame, 1593: “Colde fortune may torment me sore,   “And so may shifts some time: “Not hatred troubles men much more   “Than Venus in her prime.” Steevens. “Venus in her prime,” means, I apprehend, nothing more than ‘Venus in her youth, youthful beauty.’ Malone.

Note return to page 922 2Give me a living reason &lblank;] Living, for speaking, manifest. Warburton. “Give me a living reason that she's disloyal.” Thus the quarto 1622. The folio omits the word that, probably for the sake of the metre; but our poet often uses such words as reason, as a monosyllable. A living reason is a reason founded on fact and experience, not on surmise or conjecture: a reason that convinces the understanding as perfectly as if the fact were exhibited to the life. Malone. How such words as reason can be pronounced as monosyllables, I am yet to learn. Steevens. Mr. Steevens might as well have required to be taught how brother can be used as taking up the time of one syllable; how either, how neither, never, whether, cousin, every one of which is so used by Shakspeare. He has passed over without objection, in this very play, two instances of contraction, quite as harsh as that which I have here supposed. See Act IV. Sc. II.: “How have I been behaved, that he might stick “The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse.” Malone. What Othello here demands is actual proof, arising from some positive fact. Henley.

Note return to page 923 3&lblank; and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then Cry'd,] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads: “&lblank; then lay'd his leg o'er my thigh, “And sigh, and kiss, and then cry, cursed fate,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 924 4&lblank; a foregone conclusion;] Conclusion, for fact. Warburton. A conclusion in Shakspeare's time meant an experiment or trial. See the last speech in Antony and Cleopatra. Malone.

Note return to page 925 5'Tis a shrewd doubt, &c.] The old quarto gives this line, with the two following, to Iago; and rightly. Warburton. In the folio this line is given to Othello. Malone. I think it more naturally spoken by Othello, who, by dwelling so long upon the proof, encouraged Iago to inforce it. Johnson.

Note return to page 926 6&lblank; yet we see nothing done;] This is an oblique and secret mock at Othello's saying,—Give me the ocular proof. Warburton.

Note return to page 927 7&lblank; that was hers,] The only authentick copies, the quarto 1622, and the folio, read—or any, it was hers. For the emendation I am answerable. The mistake probably arose from yt only being written in the manuscript. The modern editors, following an amendment made by the editor of the second folio, read— if 'twas hers. Malone. I prefer Mr. Malone's correction to that of the second folio, though the latter gives sense where it was certainly wanting. Steevens.

Note return to page 928 8Now do I see 'tis true.] The old quarto reads: “Now do I see 'tis time.” And this is Shakspeare's, and has in it much more force and solemnity, and preparation for what follows: as alluding to what he had said before: “&lblank; No, Iago! “I'll see before I doubt, when I doubt, prove; “And, on the proof, there is no more but this, “Away at once with love or jealousy.” This time was now come. Warburton.

Note return to page 929 9All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven:] So, in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion, 1657: “Are these your fears? thus blow them into air.” Malone. Marlowe's idea was perhaps caught from Horace: Tradam protervis in mare Creticum Portare ventis. Steevens.

Note return to page 930 1&lblank; from thy hollow cell!] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads—from the hollow hell. Hollow, Dr. Warburton considers as “a poor unmeaning epithet.” Malone. I do not perceive that the epithet hollow is at all unmeaning, when applied to hell, as it gives the idea of what Milton calls— “&lblank; the void profound “Of unessential night,” Or the inane profundum of Lucretius. The same phrase indeed occurs in Jasper Heywood's translation of Seneca's Thyestes, 1560: “Where most prodigious ugly things the hollow hell doth hide.” Again, in Goulart's Admirable Histories, 1607, p. 626: “&lblank; cast headlong into places under-ground that were wonderful hollow—where he had seen the persons of the wicked, their punishments,” &c. Again, in Arthur Hall's translation of the eighth Iliad: “Into the hollow dreadful hole which Tartare men do tel.” Steevens. Again, in Paradise Lost, b. i. v. 314, the same epithet and subject occur: “He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep “Of hell resounded.” Holt White. Milton was a great reader and copier of Shakspeare, and he undoubtedly read his plays in the folio, without thinking of examining the more ancient quartos. In the first book of Paradise Lost, we find: “&lblank; the universal host up sent “A shout that tore hell's concave.” Malone. See Romeo and Juliet, vol. vi. p. 89. Steevens.

Note return to page 931 2&lblank; hearted throne,] Hearted throne, is the heart on which thou wast enthroned. Johnson. So, in Twelfth Night: “It gives a very echo to the seat, “Where love is thron'd.” See also Romeo and Juliet, vol. vi. p. 216. Malone.

Note return to page 932 3&lblank; swell, bosom, &c.] i. e. swell, because the fraught is of poison. Warburton.

Note return to page 933 4Never, Iago.] From the word Like, to marble heaven, inclusively, is not found in the quarto 1622. Malone.

Note return to page 934 5Like to the Pontick sea, &c.] This simile is omitted in the first edition: I think it should be so, as an unnatural excursion in this place. Pope. Every reader will, I durst say, abide by Mr. Pope's censure on this passage. When Shakspeare grew acquainted with such particulars of knowledge, he made a display of them as soon as opportunity offered. He found this in the second book and 97th chapter of Pliny's Natural History, as translated by Philemon Holland, 1601: “And the sea Pontus evermore floweth and runneth out into Propontis, but the sea never retireth backe againe within Pontus.” Mr. Edwards, in his MS. notes, conceives this simile to allude to Sir Philip Sidney's device, whose impress, Camden, in his Remains, says, was the Caspian sea, with this motto, Sine refluxu. Steevens.

Note return to page 935 6Ne'er feels retiring ebb,] The folio, where alone this passage is found, reads—Ne'er keeps retiring ebb, &c. Many similar mistakes have happened in that copy, by the compositor's repeating a word twice in the same line. So, in Hamlet: “My news shall be the news [r. fruit] to that great feast.” Again, ibidem: “The spirit, upon whose spirit depend and rest,” &c. instead of upon whose weal. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. Malone.

Note return to page 936 7&lblank; a capable and wide revenge &lblank;] Capable perhaps signifies ample, capacious. So, in As You Like It: “The cicatrice and capable impressure.” Again, in Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Devil, by Nashe, 1592: “Then belike, quoth I, you make this word, Dæmon, a capable name, of Gods, of men, of devils.” It may, however, mean judicious. In Hamlet the word is often used in the sense of intelligent. What Othello says in another place seems to favour this latter interpretation: “Good; good;—the justice of it pleases me.” Malone. Capable, means, I suppose, capacious, comprehensive. Steevens.

Note return to page 937 8&lblank; by yond' marble heaven,] In Soliman and Perseda, 1599, I find the same expression: “Now by the marble face of the welkin,” &c. Steevens. So, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602: “And pleas'd the marble heavens.” Malone.

Note return to page 938 9The execution &lblank;] The first quarto reads—excellency. Steevens. By execution Shakspeare meant employment or exercise. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, “Which you on all estates will execute.” The quarto 1622 reads—hand. Malone. Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “In fellest manner execute your arms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 939 1&lblank; let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody work soever.] Iago devotes himself to wronged Othello, and says, Let him command whatever bloody business, and in me it shall be an act, not of cruelty, but of tenderness to obey him; not of malice to others, but of tenderness for him. If this sense be thought too violent, I see nothing better than to follow Mr. Pope's reading, as it is improved by Mr. Theobald. Johnson. The quarto 1622 has not the words—in me. They first appeared in the folio. Theobald reads—Nor to obey, &c. Malone. Dr. Johnson's interpretation is undoubtedly the true one; and I can only claim the merit of supporting his sense of the word remorse, i. e. pity, by the following instances. In Lord Surrey's translation of the fourth Æneid, Dido says to her sister: “Sister, I crave thou have remorse of me.” Again, in King Edward III. 1599, that Prince speaking to the citizens of Calais: “But for yourselves, look you for no remorse.” Again, in Sir Clyomon Knight of the Golden Shield, 1599: “Who taketh no remorse of womankind.” Again, in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “Here stand I, craving no remorse at all.” I could add many more instances, but shall content myself to observe that the sentiment of Iago bears no small resemblance to that of Arviragus in Cymbeline: “I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood, “And praise myself for charity.” Steevens. Before I saw Dr. Johnson's edition of Shakspeare, my opinion of this passage was formed, and written, and thus I understood it: “Let him command any bloody business, and to obey him shall be in me an act of pity and compassion for wrong'd Othello.” Remorse frequently signifies pity, mercy, compassion, or a tenderness of heart, unattended with the stings of a guilty conscience. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act IV. Sc. III. the crimeless Eglamour is called remorseful. So, in King Richard III. Act III. Sc. VII.: “As well we know your tenderness of heart, “And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse.” So, in Holinshed's Conquest of Ireland, p. 13: “&lblank; to have remorse and compassion upon others distresses;” and in the Dedication, “to have regard and remorse to your said land.” Tollet. Some of the examples quoted by Mr. Steevens I have omitted, as I think those already inserted are sufficient to prove the meaning of the word. Mr. M. Mason says, he may venture to assert, that Shakspeare seldom, if ever, uses the word in any other sense. Reed. If I am not deceived, this passage has been entirely mistaken. I read: “&lblank; let him command, “An' to obey shall be in me remorse, “What bloody business ever &lblank;.” And for if is sufficiently common: and Othello's impatience breaks off the sentence, I think, with additional beauty. Farmer. “What bloody work soever.” So the quartos. The folio: “What bloody business ever.” Steevens.

Note return to page 940 2&lblank; at your request:] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—as you request. Malone.

Note return to page 941 3O, damn her!] Thus the quarto 1622. Folio: O damn her, damn her. Malone.

Note return to page 942 4To tell you, &c.] This and the following speech are wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 943 5Clown. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer.] This Clown is a fool to some purpose. He was to go seek for one; he says, he will ask for him, and by his own questions make answer. Without doubt we should read—and bid them answer; i. e. the world; those whom he questions. Warburton. There is no necessity for changing the text. It is the Clown's play to wrench what is said, from its proper meaning. Sir T. More hath briefly worked his character: “he plaieth the iester, nowe with skoffinge, and nowe with his overthwarte woords, to prouoke all to laughter.” His design here was to propose such questions as might elicit the information sought for from him, and therefore, by his questions he might be enabled to answer. Henley. “&lblank; and by them answer.” i. e. and by them, when answered, form my own answer to you. The quaintness of the expression is in character. By is found both in the quarto 1622, and the folio. The modern editors, following a quarto of no authority, printed in 1630, read—and make them answer. Malone.

Note return to page 944 6To do this, is within the compass of man's wit; and therefore, &c.] So, in King Lear: “I cannot draw a cart, nor eat wild oats; “If it be man's work, I'll do it.” Malone.

Note return to page 945 7&lblank; cruzadoes.] A Portuguese coin, in value three shillings sterling. Grey. So called from the cross stamped upon it. Johnson. The exact value of a cruzado is here of no importance, nor does it appear precisely what it was in Shakspeare's time. By a mercantile friend I am informed, that there are at present three sorts. The imaginary one of the value of 2s. or 2s. ¼d, like the English pound, is only a denomination, and not a coin. The two other sorts are really coins, and all the three differ in value. Reed.

Note return to page 946 8&lblank; till Cassio Be call'd to him.] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads —Let Cassio be call'd to him. Malone.

Note return to page 947 9Hot, hot, and moist;] Ben Jonson seems to have attempted a ridicule on this passage, in Every Man out of his Humour, Act V. Sc. II. where Sogliardo says to Saviolina, “How does my sweet lady? hot and moist? beautiful and lusty?” Steevens. Ben Jonson was ready enough on all occasions to depreciate and ridicule our author, but in the present instance, I believe, he must be acquitted; for Every Man out of his Humour was printed in 1600, and written probably in the preceding year; at which time, we are almost certain that Othello had not been exhibited. Malone.

Note return to page 948 1&lblank; exercise devout;] Exercise was the religious term. Henry the Seventh (says Bacon) “had the fortune of a true christian as well as of a great king, in living exercised, and dying repentant.” So, Lord Hastings, in King Richard III. Act. III. Sc. II. says to a priest: “I am in debt for your last exercise.” Malone.

Note return to page 949 2&lblank; The hearts, of old, gave hands; But our new heraldry is—hands, not hearts.] It is evident the first line should be read thus: “The hands of old gave hearts;” otherwise it would be no reply to the preceding words, “For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.” Not so, says her husband: “The hands of old indeed gave hearts; but the custom now is to give hands without hearts. The expression of new heraldry was a satirical allusion to the times. Soon after King James the First came to the crown, he created the new dignity of baronets for money. Amongst their other prerogatives of honour, they had an addition to their paternal arms, of a hand gules in an escutcheon argent. And we are not to doubt but that this was the new heraldry alluded to by our author: by which he insinuates, that some then created had hands indeed, but not hearts; that is, money to pay for the creation, but no virtue to purchase the honour. But the finest part of the poet's address in this allusion, is the compliment he pays to his old mistress Elizabeth. For James's pretence for raising money by this creation, was the reduction of Ulster, and other parts of Ireland; the memory of which he would perpetuate by that addition to their arms, it being the arms of Ulster. Now the method used by Elizabeth in the reduction of that kingdom was so different from this, the dignities she conferred being on those who employed their steel, and not their gold, in his service, that nothing could add more to her glory, than the being compared to her successor in this point of view; nor was it uncommon for the dramatick poets of that time to satirize the ignominy of James's reign. So, Fletcher, in The Fair Maid of The Inn. One says, “I will send thee to Amboyna in the East Indies for pepper.” The other replies, “To Amboyna? so I might be pepper'd.” Again, in the same play, a Sailor says, “Despise not this pitch'd canvas; the time was, we have known them lined with Spanish ducats.” Warburton. The historical observation is very judicious and acute, but of the emendation there is no need. She says, that her hand gave away her heart. He goes on with his suspicion, and the hand which he had before called frank, he now terms liberal; then proceeds to remark, that the hand was formerly given by the heart; but now it neither gives it, nor is given by it. Johnson. I think, with Dr. Warburton, that the new order of baronets is here again alluded to. See The Merry Wives of Windsor, vol. viii. p. 59, and Spelman's Epigram there cited: &lblank; florentis nomen honoris   Indict in clypei fronte cruenta manus. Non quod sævi aliquid, aut stricto fortiter ense   Hostibus occisis gesserit iste cohors. Blackstone. The reader will not find the Epigram alluded to by Sir William Blackstone, in the page to which he has referred [in my edition, 1790], for I have omitted that part of his note, (an omission of which I have there given notice,) because it appeared to me extremely improbable that any passage in that play should allude to an event that did not take place till 1611. The omitted words I add here, as they may appear to add weight to his opinion and that of Dr. Warburton. “I suspect this is an oblique reflection on the prodigality of James the First in bestowing these honours, and erecting 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 verâ geniti nobilitate viri; Interea è caulis his prorepit, ille tabernis,   Et modo fit dominus, qui modo servus erat. See another stroke at them in Othello. Malone. My respect for the sentiments of Sir William Blackstone might have induced me to print both them, and the epigram referred to, in both places, even if the preceding remark of Mr. Malone had not, in this second instance, afforded them an apt introduction. Steevens. For the reasons assigned by Mr. Steevens, I have followed his example. Boswell. “&lblank; our new heraldry,” &c. I believe this to be only a figurative expression, without the least reference to King James's creation of baronets. The absurdity of making Othello so familiar with British heraldry, the utter want of consistency as well as policy in any sneer of Shakspeare at the badge of honours instituted by a Prince whom on all other occasions he was solicitous to flatter, and at whose court this very piece was acted in 1613, most strongly incline me to question the propriety of Dr. Warburton's historical explanation. Steevens. To almost every sentence of Dr. Warburton's note, an objection may be taken; but I have preserved it as a specimen of this commentator's manner. It is not true that King James created the order of baronets soon after he came to the throne. It was created in the year 1611. —The conceit that by the word hearts the poet meant to allude to the gallantry of the reign of Elizabeth, in which men distinguished themselves by their steel, and that by hands those courtiers were pointed at, who served her inglorious successor only by their gold, is too fanciful to deserve an answer. Thus Dr. Warburton's note stood as it appeared originally in Theobald's edition; but in his own, by way of confirmation of his notion, we are told, that “it was not uncommon for the satirical poets of that time to satirise the ignominy of James's reign;” and for this assertion we are referred to Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Inn. But, unluckily, it appears from the office-book of Sir Henry Herbert, a MS. of which an account is given in vol. iii. that Fletcher's plays were generally performed at court soon after they were first exhibited at the theatre, and we may be assured that he would not venture to offend his courtly auditors. The Fair Maid of the Inn, indeed, never was performed before King James, being the last play but one that Fletcher wrote, and not produced till the 22d of Jan. 1625–6, after the death both of its author and King James; but when it was written, he must, from the circumstances already mentioned, have had the court before his eyes. In various parts of our poet's works he has alluded to the custom of plighting troth by the union of hands. So, in Hamlet: “Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands “Unite co-mutual in most sacred bands.” Again, in The Tempest, which was probably written at no great distance of time from the play before us: “Mir. My husband then? “Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing “As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand. “Mir. And mine, with my heart in't.” The hearts of old, says Othello, dictated the union of hands, which formerly were joined with the hearts of the parties in them; but in our modern marriages, hands alone are united, without hearts. Such evidently is the plain meaning of the words. I do not, however, undertake to maintain that the poet, when he used the word heraldry, had not the new order of baronets in his thoughts, without intending any satirical allusion. Malone.

Note return to page 950 9&lblank; salt and sullen rheum &lblank;] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio, for sullen, has sorry. Malone. Sullen, that is, a rheum obstinately troublesome. I think this better. Johnson.

Note return to page 951 1That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give;] In the account of this tremendous handkerchief, are some particulars, which lead me to think that here is an allusion to a fact, heightened by poetical imagery. It is the practice in the eastern regions, for persons of both sexes to carry handkerchiefs very curiously wrought. In the MS. papers of Sir John Chardin, that great oriental traveller, is a passage which fully describes the custom: “The mode of wrought handkerchiefs (says this learned enquirer,) is general in Arabia, in Syria, in Palestine, and generally in all the Turkish empire. They are wrought with a needle, and it is the amusement of the fair sex there, as among us the making tapestry and lace. The young women make them for their fathers, their brothers, and by way of preparation before hand for their spouses, bestowing them as favours on their lovers. They have them almost constantly in their hands in those warm countries, to wipe off sweat.” But whether this circumstance ever came to Shakspeare's knowledge, and gave rise to the incident, I am not able to determine. Whalley. Shakspeare found in Cinthio's novel the incident of Desdemona's losing a handkerchief finely wrought in Morisco work, which had been presented to her by her husband, or rather of its being stolen from her by the villain who afterwards by his machinations robbed her of her life. The eastern custom of brides presenting such gifts to their husbands, certainly did not give rise to the incident on which this tragedy turns, though Shakspeare should seem to have been apprized of it. However, the preceding note is retained as illustrative of the passage before us. Malone.

Note return to page 952 2She was a charmer,] In Deut. xviii. 11, there is an injunction: “Let none be found among you that is a charmer.” In Perkins's Discourse of the damned Art of Witchcraft, 8vo. 1610, it is said that “Inchantment is the working of wonders by a charme;” and a charm is afterwards defined, “a spell or verse, consisting of strange words, used as a signe or watchword to the Devil to cause him to worke wonders.” In this Discourse is an enumeration of the wonders done by inchanters, as raising storms and tempests, &c. and at the conclusion it is said: “&lblank; by witches we understand not those only which kill and torment, but all diviners, charmers, jugglers, all wizzards, commonly called wise men and wise women; yea, whosoever do any thing (knowing what they do) which cannot be effected by nature or art.” Reed.

Note return to page 953 3To lose or giv't away,] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio —To lose't, &c. Steevens. Shakspeare, in this incident of the handkerchief, may have recollected Soliman and Perseda, 1599, a drama which he has frequently quoted, where the same importance is ascribed to a carkanet. “Perseda. &lblank; Accept this carkanet, “My grandame on her death bed gave it me, “And there even there, I vow'd unto myselfe, “To keep the same untill my wand'ring eye “Should finde a harbour for my heart to dwell.” Malone.

Note return to page 954 4A sibyl, &c.] This circumstance perhaps is imitated by Ben Jonson in The Sad Shepherd: “A Gypsan lady, and a right beldame, “Wrought it by moonshine for me, and star-light,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 955 5&lblank; number'd &lblank; The sun to make, &c.] Thus the quarto 1622. The folio —to course. Steevens. That is, numbered the sun's courses: badly expressed. Warburton. The expression is not very infrequent: we say, I counted the clock to strike four; so she number'd the sun to course, to run two hundred compasses, two hundred annual circuits. Johnson. I have preferred the original reading, because we have in Hamlet: “When yon same star, that's eastward from the pole, “Had made his course, to illume that part of heaven.” Malone.

Note return to page 956 6And it was died in mummy, &c.] The balsamick liquor running from mummies, was formerly celebrated for its anti-epileptick virtues. We are now wise enough to know, that the qualities ascribed to it are all imaginary; and yet this fanciful medicine still holds a place in the principal shops where drugs are sold. So, in The Bird in a Cage, by Shirley, 1633: “&lblank; make mummy of my flesh, and sell me to the apothecaries.” Again, in The Honest Lawyer, 1616: “That I might tear their flesh in mammocks, raise “My losses, from their carcases turn'd mummy.” Mummy, however, is still much coveted by painters, as a transparent brown colour that throws a warmth into their shadows. Steevens.

Note return to page 957 7&lblank; which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.] Thus the folio. The quarto reads: “&lblank; with the skilful “Conserves,” &c. So, in The Microcosmos of John Davies of Hereford, 4to. 1605: “&lblank; Mummy made of the mere hart of love.” Steevens.

Note return to page 958 8&lblank; rash?] Is vehement, violent. Johnson.

Note return to page 959 9I pray, talk me of Cassio.] This and the following short speech, are omitted in all the ancient editions but the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 960 1'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:] From this line it may be conjectured, that the author intended the action of this play to be considered as longer than is marked by any note of time. Since their arrival at Cyprus, to which they were hurried on their wedding-night, the fable seems to have been in one continual progress, nor can I see any vacuity in which a year or two, or even a month or two, could be put. On the night of Othello's arrival, a feast was proclaimed; at that feast Cassio was degraded, and immediately applies to Desdemona to get him restored. Iago, indeed, advises Othello to hold him off a while, but there is no reason to think, that he has been held off long. A little longer interval would increase the probability of the story, though it might violate the rules of the drama. See Act V. Sc. II. Johnson. This line has no reference to the duration of the action of this play, or to the length of time that Desdemona had been married. What Emilia says, is a sort of proverbial remark, of general application, where a definite time is put for an indefinite. Besides, there is no necessity for fixing the commencement of Emilia's year or two, to the time of the marriage or the opening of the piece. She would with more propriety refer to the beginning of the acquaintance and intimacy between the married couple, which might extend beyond that period. Steevens.

Note return to page 961 2&lblank; the duty of my heart,] The elder quarto reads: “&lblank; the duty of my heart &lblank;.” The author used the more proper word, and then changed it, I suppose, for fashionable diction: [“the office of my heart,” the reading of the folio;] but, as fashion is a very weak protectress, the old word is now ready to resume its place. Johnson. A careful comparison of the quartos and folio incline me to believe that many of the variations which are found in the later copy, did not come from the pen of Shakspeare. See vol. vii. p. 477, n. 3. That duty was the word intended here, is highly probable from other passages in his works. So, in his 26th Sonnet: “Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage “Thy merit has my duty strongly knit.” Again, in his Dedication of Lucrece, to Lord Southampton: “Were my worth greater, my duty would shew greater; mean time, as it is, it is bound to your lordship.” Malone. Office may be the true reading. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; his goodly eyes—now turn “The office and devotion of their view,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 962 3But to know so must be my benefit;] Si nequeo placidas affari Cæsaris aures, Saltem aliquis veniat, qui mihi dicat, abi. Johnson.

Note return to page 963 4And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune's alms.] Shoot is the reading of one of the early quartos. The folio, and all the modern editions, have— “And shut myself up &lblank;.” Johnson. I cannot help thinking this reading to be the true one. The idea seems taken from the confinement of a monastick life. The words, forc'd content, help to confirm the supposition. The meaning will therefore be, “I will put on a constrained appearance of being contented, and shut myself up in a different course of life, no longer to depend on my own efforts, but to wait for relief from the accidental hand of charity.” Shakspeare uses the same expression in Macbeth: “&lblank; and shut up “In measureless content.” Again, in All's Well That Ends Well: “Whose basest stars do shut us up in wishes.” Steevens. The quarto 1622 reads—And shoot myself, &c. I think, with Mr. Steevens, that it was a corruption, and that the reading of the folio is the true one. Hanmer reads: “And shoot myself upon some other course, “To fortune's alms.” To fortune's alms means, waiting patiently for whatever bounty fortune or chance may bestow upon me. We have the same uncommon phrase in King Lear: “&lblank; Let your study “Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you “At fortune's alms.” Malone. I cannot agree with Steevens in approving of the present reading, nor of course, in his explanation of this passage, but think the quarto right, which reads shoot instead of shut.—To say that a man will shut himself up in a course of life, is language such as Shakspeare would never make use of, even in his most whimsical or licentious moments. One of the meanings of the verb to shoot, is to push suddenly, or to push forward; and in that sense it is used in this place. Cassio means to say, that if he finds he has no chance of regaining the favour of the general, he will push forward into some other line of life, and seek his fortune; but I think it probable we ought to read: “And shoot myself upon some other course,” instead of up in some other course. M. Mason. Mr. M. Mason's explanation is a very forced one.—It appears from the information of Iago, that Cassio had not long been a soldier. Before Othello promoted him, for his good offices in respect to Desdemona, he was “a great arithmetician, a counter-caster;” and now, being discarded from the military line, he purposes to confine or shut himself up, as he formerly had, within the limits of a new profession. Henley.

Note return to page 964 5&lblank; in favour,] In look, in countenance. Johnson. See p. 285. Steevens.

Note return to page 965 6&lblank; within the blank of his displeasure,] Within the shot of his anger. Johnson. See vol. vii. p. 410, n. 9. Steevens.

Note return to page 966 7&lblank; I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown, &c.] In Iago's speech something is suppressed. He means to say, I have seen his ranks blown into the air, and his own brother puff'd from his side,—and meanwhile have seen him cool and unruffled. And can he now be angry? Malone.

Note return to page 967 8&lblank; some unhatch'd practice,] Some treason that has not taken effect. Johnson.

Note return to page 968 9For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense Of pain:] I believe it should be rather, Subdues our other healthful members to a sense of pain. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's conjecture may be supported by a passage in one of Desdemona's speeches to the Senate: “My heart's subdued “Even to the very quality of my lord.” Again, in p. 400: “&lblank; and subdue my father “Entirely to her love.” Steevens. The meaning is, this sensation so gets possession of, and is so infused into the other members, as to make them all participate of the same pain: &lblank; totumque infusa per artus, Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet. Dr. Johnson would probably not have proposed any alteration here, if he had recollected the following passage in Hamlet, which exhibits a similar phraseology, as far as relates to the only difficulty of the sentence before us—to the sense of its own pain: “&lblank; the dram of base “Doth all the noble substance of worth dout, “To his own scandal.” Malone. See vol. vii. p. 229, for the very difficult and contested passage which Mr. Malone has produced in support of his interpretation of the present text. Boswell.

Note return to page 969 1&lblank; the bridal.] i. e. the nuptial feast; a Saxon word. Thus, in the ancient romance of Ywain and Gawain: “The bridal sat, for soth to tell “Till king Arthur come,” &c. Again, in Gamelyn, or the Coke's Tale: “At every bridale he would sing and hop.” Steevens.

Note return to page 970 2&lblank; (unhandsome warrior as I am,)] Unhandsome warrior, is evidently unfair assailant. Johnson. See note on the same expression, Act II. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 971 3&lblank; in a more continuate time,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 has—a more convenient time. Malone. A more continuate time is time less interrupted, time which I can call more my own. It gives a more distinct image than convenient. Johnson. The word occurs again in Timon of Athens, Sc. I.: “&lblank; breath'd, as it were, “To an untirable and continuate goodness.” See Timon of Athens, Act I. Sc. I. Steevens.

Note return to page 972 4Take me this work out.] The meaning is not, “Pick out the work, and leave the ground plain;” but, “Copy this work in another handkerchief.” Johnson. So, in a comedy, by Middleton, called, Women Beware of Women: “&lblank; she intends “To take out other works in a new sampler.” Again, in the preface to P. Holland's Pliny, 1601: “Nicophanes (a famous painter) gave his mind wholly to antique pictures, partly to exemplifie and take out their patterns, after that in long continuance of time they were decaied.” Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.: “&lblank; why doest thou in thy beautiful sampler set such a work for my desire to take out?” Steevens. So, in Hearne's Liber Niger Scaccarii, vol. ii. p. 578, 581, and 585: “to take out the arms,” means, to copy them. Tollet.

Note return to page 973 5Woman, go to!] Old copies, unmetrically— “Go to, woman!” Steevens. Mr. Capell made the alteration which Mr. Steevens has adopted. Boswell.

Note return to page 974 *Quarto, No, by my faith.

Note return to page 975 †First folio, neither.

Note return to page 976 6Why, I pray you?] This and the following speech are wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 977 7&lblank; I must be circumstanc'd.] i. e. your civility is now grown conditional. Warburton. Rather, I must give way to circumstances. M. Mason. Particular circumstances and your own convenience have, I see, more weight with you than Bianca has. I must be postponed to these considerations. Malone.

Note return to page 978 8Naked abed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil:] This observation seems strangely abrupt and unoccasioned. We must suppose that Iago had, before they appeared in this scene, been applying cases of false comfort to Othello; as that though the parties had been even found in bed together, there might be no harm done: it might be only for the trial of their virtue; as was reported of the Romish saint, Robert D'Arbrissel and his nuns: To this we must suppose Othello here replies; and like a good protestant. For so the sentiment does but suit the character of the speaker, Shakspeare little heeds how these sentiments are circumstanced. Warburton. “Hypocrisy against the devil,” means ‘hypocrisy to cheat the devil.’ As common hypocrites cheat men, by seeming good, and yet living wickedly, these men would cheat the devil, by giving him flattering hopes, and at last avoiding the crime which he thinks them ready to commit. Johnson.

Note return to page 979 9The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.] The true key to the explanation of this passage may be found in St. Matthew, iv. 7. The poet's idea is, that the devil tempts their virtues, by stirring up their passions, and they tempt heaven, by placing themselves in such a situation as makes it scarcely possible to avoid falling by the gratification of them. Henley. As the devil makes a trial of their virtue by often throwing temptation in their way, so they presumptuously make a trial whether the divine goodness will enable them to resist a temptation which they have voluntarily created for themselves, or abandon them to the government of their passions. Malone. Shakspeare had probably in view a very popular book of his time, The Beehive of the Roman Church: “There was an old wife, called Julia, which would take the young men and maides, and lay them together in a bed. And for that they should not one byte another, nor kicke backewardes with their heeles, she did lay a crucifix between them.” Farmer. More probably from Fabian's Chronicle, Part IV. ch. 141:— “Of hym [Bishop Adhelme] it is wrytten that when he was styred by his gostly enemy to the synne of the fleshe, he to do the more tormente to hym selfe and of his body, wolde holde within his bedde by hym a fayre mayden, by so longe tyme as he myght say over the hole sauter, albeit that suche holynes is no artycle of saynte Bennetis lore, nor yet for dyverse inconvenyence mooste alowed by holye doctours.” Again, and yet more appositely, in Bale's Actes of Englysh Votaryes, 1548: “This Adhelmus never refused women, but wold have them commonly both at borde and at bedde, to mocke the devyll with,” &c.—“he layed by hym naked the fayrest mayde he coude get,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 980 1As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all,] So, in King John: “&lblank; confusion waits, “As doth the raven on a sick-fallen beast &lblank;.” Steevens. “&lblank; boding to all.” Thus all the old copies. The moderns less grammatically— “Boding to ill &lblank;.” Johnson. The raven was thought to be a constant attendant on a house, in which there was infection. So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “Thus like the sad presaging raven, that tolls “The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, “And in the shadow of the silent night “Does shake contagion from her fable wing.” Malone.

Note return to page 981 2Convinced or supplied them,] I cannot understand the vulgar reading. I read—convinc'd or suppled. My emendation makes the sense of the passage easy and intelligible: that there are some such long-tongued knaves in the world, who, if they through the force of importunity extort a favour from their mistress, or if through her own fondness they make her pliant to their desires, cannot help boasting of their success. To convince, here, is not, as in the common acceptation, to make sensible of the truth of any thing by reasons and arguments; but to overcome, get the better of, &c. Theobald. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; his two chamberlains “Will I, with wine and wassel so convince.” Again, in the same play: “&lblank; their malady convinces “The great assay of art.” Dr. Farmer is of opinion that supplied has here the same meaning as supplicated. Steevens. Theobald's emendation evidently hurts, instead of improving, the sense; for what is suppled, but convinced, i. e. subdued. Supplied relates to the words—“voluntary dotage,” as convinced does to “their own importunate suit.” “Having by their importunacy conquered the resistance of a mistress, or, in compliance with her own request, and in consequence of her unsolicited fondness, gratified her desires.” Malone. Supplied is certainly the true reading, and with a sense that may be collected from the following passage in Measure for Measure: “And did supply thee at the garden-house:” Or, rather, as may be inferred from the following sentence in Sir R. Cotton's View of the Raigne of Henry III. 1627: “Denials from Princes must bee supplyed with gracious usage, that though they cure not the sore, yet they may abate the sence of it.” P. 12. Supplied is the old spelling of suppled, i. e. softened. Steevens.

Note return to page 982 3'Faith, that he did,—I know not what he did.] I believe that the line should be pointed thus: “'Faith, that he did I not know what;—he did.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 983 4&lblank; To confess, and be hanged &lblank;] This is a proverbial saying. It is used by Marlowe, in his Jew of Malta, 1633: “Blame us not, but the proverb—Confess, and be hang'd.” It occurs again, in The Travels of the Three English Brothers, 1607: And in one of the old collections of small poems there is an epigram on it. All that remains of this speech, including the words to confess, is wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 984 5&lblank; shadowing passion,] The modern editions have left out passion. Johnson.

Note return to page 985 6&lblank; without some instruction.] The starts and broken reflections in this speech have something very terrible, and show the mind of the speaker to be in inexpressible agonies. But the words we are upon, when set right, have a sublime in them that can never be enough admired. The ridiculous blunder of writing instruction for induction (for so it should be read) has indeed sunk it into arrant nonsense. Othello is just going to fall into a swoon; and as is common for people in that circumstance, feels an unusual mist and darkness, accompanied with horror, coming upon him. This, with vast sublimity of thought, is compared to the season of the sun's eclipse, at which time the earth becomes shadowed by the induction or bringing over of the moon between it and the sun. This being the allusion, the reasoning stands thus: “My nature could never be thus overshadowed, and falling, as it were, into dissolution, for no cause. There must be an induction of something: there must be a real cause. My jealousy cannot be merely imaginary. Ideas, words only, could not shake me thus, and raise all this disorder. My jealousy therefore must be grounded on matter of fact.” Shakspeare uses this word in the same sense in King Richard III.: “A dire induction am I witness to.” Marston seems to have read it thus in some copy, and to allude to it in these words of his Fame: “Plots ha' you laid? inductions dangerous!” Warburton. This is a noble conjecture, and, whether right or wrong, does honour to its author. Yet I am in doubt whether there is any necessity of emendation. There has always prevailed in the world an opinion, that when any great calamity happens at a distance, notice is given of it to the sufferer by some dejection or perturbation of mind, of which he discovers no external cause. This is ascribed to that general communication of one part of the universe with another, which is called sympathy and antipathy; or to the secret monition, instruction, and influence of a Superior Being, which superintends the order of nature and of life. Othello says, “Nature could not invest herself in such shadowing passion without instruction. It is not words that shake me thus.” This passion, which spreads its clouds over me, is the effect of some agency more than the operation of words: it is one of those notices, which men have, of unseen calamities. Johnson. “Nature could not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction.” However ingenious Dr. Warburton's note may be, it is certainly too forced and far-fetched. Othello alludes only to Cassio's dream, which had been invented and told him by Iago. When many confused and very interesting ideas pour in upon the mind all at once, and with such rapidity that it has not time to shape or digest them, if it does not relieve itself by tears (which we know it often does, whether for joy or grief) it produces stupefaction and fainting. Othello, in broken sentences and single words, all of which have a reference to the cause of his jealousy, shows, that all the proofs are present at once to his mind, which so overpowers it, that he falls into a trance, the natural consequence. Sir J. Reynolds. If Othello, by the words shadowing passion alludes to his own feelings, and not to Cassio's dream, Dr. Warburton's interpretation, if we substitute instruction for induction, (which was introduced merely to usher in the image of an eclipse) is perhaps nearly correct. Induction, in Shakspeare's time, meant introduction, or prelude, (as in the instance quoted from King Richard III.) and at no time signified bringing over, as Dr. Warburton interprets it. Malone. I believe, the text, as it stands, is perfectly right, and that Othello's allusion is to his present and uncommon sensations. Steevens.

Note return to page 986 7Noses, ears, and lips:] Othello is imagining to himself the familiarities which he supposes to have passed between Cassio and his wife. So, in The Winter's Tale: “Cheek to cheek,—meeting noses— “Kissing with inside lip,” &c. If this be not the meaning, we must suppose he is meditating a cruel punishment for Desdemona and her suspected paramour: &lblank; raptis Auribus, et truncas inhonesto vulnere nares. Steevens.

Note return to page 987 8&lblank; in those unproper beds,] Unproper, for common. Warburton. So, in The Arcadia, by Shirley, 1640: “Every woman shall be common.— “Every woman common! what shall we do with all the proper women in Arcadia? “They shall be common too.” Again, in Gower De Confessione Amantis, b. ii. fol.: “And is his proper by the lawe.” Again, in The Mastive, &c. an ancient collection of Epigrams and Satires, no date: “Rose is a fayre, but not a proper woman; “Can any creature proper be, that's common?” Steevens.

Note return to page 988 9To lip a wanton &lblank;] This phrase occurs in Eastward Hoe, Act I.: “&lblank; lip her, lip her, knave.” Reed.

Note return to page 989 1&lblank; in a secure couch,] In a couch in which he is lulled into a false security and confidence in his wife's virtue. A Latin sense. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty,” &c. See also vol. viii. p. 385. Malone.

Note return to page 990 2And, knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.] Redundancy of metre, without improvement of sense, inclines me to consider the word she, in this line, as an intruder. Iago is merely stating an imaginary case as his own. “When I know what I am (says he) I know what the result of that conviction shall be.” To whom, indeed, could the pronoun she, grammatically refer? Steevens. The grammatical inaccuracy, in this passage, is not greater than in many passages in Shakspeare. So, before, in this play: “And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, “To give it her.” Malone.

Note return to page 991 3&lblank; list.] List, or lists, is barriers, bounds. Keep your temper, says Iago, within the bounds of patience. So, in Hamlet: “The ocean over-peering of his list, “Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste,” &c. Collins. Again, in King Henry V. Act V. Sc. II.: “&lblank; you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country fashion.” Again, in King Henry IV. Part I.: “The very list, the very utmost bound, “Of all our fortunes.” Again, in All's Well that Ends Well, Act II. Sc. I.: “&lblank; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu.” Chapman, in his translation of the 16th book of Homer's Odyssey, has thus expressed an idea similar to that in the text: “&lblank; let thy heart “Beat in fix'd confines of thy bosom still.” Steevens.

Note return to page 992 4&lblank; ere while mad with your grief,] Thus the first quarto. The folio reads: “&lblank; o'erwhelmed with your grief.” Steevens.

Note return to page 993 5&lblank; encave yourself,] Hide yourself in a private place. Johnson.

Note return to page 994 6That dwell in every region of his face;] Congreve might have had this passage in his memory, when he made Lady Touchwood say to Maskwell—“Ten thousand meanings lurk in each corner of that various face.” Steevens. “&lblank; region of his face.” The same uncommon expression occurs again in King Henry VII.: “&lblank; The respite shook “The bosom of my conscience &lblank; “&lblank; and made to tremble “The region of my breast.” Malone.

Note return to page 995 8Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen,] I read: “Or shall I say, you're all in all a spleen &lblank;.” I think our author uses this expression elsewhere. Johnson. “A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen.”—The old reading, however, is not inexplicable. We still say, such a one is in wrath, in the dumps, &c. The sense therefore is plain. Again, in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 996 9And his unbookish jealousy &lblank;] Unbookish, for ignorant. Warburton.

Note return to page 997 1Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?] Othello calls him Roman ironically. Triumph, which was a Roman ceremony, brought Roman into his thoughts. “What (says he) you are now triumphing as great as a Roman?” Johnson.

Note return to page 998 2&lblank; a customer!] A common woman, one that invites custom. Johnson. So, in All's Well That Ends Well: “I think thee now some common customer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 999 3Have you scored me?] Have you made my reckoning? have you settled the term of my life? The old quarto reads—stored me? Have you disposed of me? have you laid me up? Johnson. To score originally meant no more than to cut a notch upon a tally, or to mark out a form by indenting it on any substance. Spenser, in the first canto of his Fairy Queen, speaking of the Cross, says: “Upon his shield the like was also scor'd.” Again, in book ii. c. ix.: “&lblank; why on your shield, so goodly scor'd, “Bear you the picture of that lady's head?” But it was soon figuratively used for setting a brand or mark of disgrace on any one. “Let us score their backs,” says Scarus, in Antony and Cleopatra; and it is employed in the same sense on the present occasion. Steevens. In Antony and Cleopatra, we find: “&lblank; I know not “What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face,” &c. But in the passage before us our poet might have been thinking of the ignominious punishment of slaves. So, in his Rape of Lucrece: “Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour's blot.” Malone. I suspect that—wipe, in the foregoing passage from The Rape of Lucrece, was a typographical depravation of—wispe. See Henry VI. Part III. Act II. Sc. II. Steevens.

Note return to page 1000 4&lblank; this bauble;] So the quarto. The folio—the bauble. Steevens.

Note return to page 1001 5&lblank; by this hand,] This is the reading of the first quarto. Steevens. Instead of which, the editor of the folio, or rather the licenser of plays, substituted—thither comes the bauble, and falls me thus, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1002 6&lblank; fitchew!] A pole-cat. Pope. Shakspeare has in another place mentioned the lust of this animal. He tells Iago that she is as lewd as the polecat, but of better scent, the polecat being a very stinking animal. Johnson. By “another place,” Dr. Johnson means—King Lear: “The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't “With a more riotous appetite.” A polecat therefore was anciently one of the cant terms for a strumpet. Steevens.

Note return to page 1003 7Yours, by this hand:] This speech is not in the original quarto 1622. Malone.

Note return to page 1004 8No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.] This thought, as often as it occurs to Shakspeare, is sure to be received, and as often counteracts his pathos. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV. Sc. VIII.: “&lblank; throw my heart “Against the flint and hardness of my fault, “Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder, “And finish all foul thoughts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1005 9&lblank; O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!] So, in Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; when he hath sung “The tiger would be tame.” Malone.

Note return to page 1006 1&lblank; And then, of so gentle a condition!] i. e. of so sweet a disposition. So, in King Henry V.: “Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth.” Malone.

Note return to page 1007 2If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend;] So, in King Edward III. a tragedy, 1596: “Why then give sin a passport to offend.” Malone.

Note return to page 1008 3'Save you, worthy general!] The quarto reads, “God save the worthy general.” The alteration was probably made by the Master of the Revells. Malone.

Note return to page 1009 4With all my heart, sir.] This does not relate to what Lodovico has just said, but is spoken by Othello while he salutes him. Malone. I know not how the meaning of this speech can be ascertained, unless by reference to the salutation of Lodovico. The distracted Othello, considering his own happiness at an end in this world, readily catches at the idea of future felicity suggested by the words—“'Save you, general!” In his present reply, therefore, he must be supposed to welcome the pious wish expressed on his behalf. In Measure for Measure, two replies of Angelo, equally equivocal, are derived from similar premises: “Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe! “Ang. Amen!” Again, at the conclusion of the same scene: “Isab. 'Save your honour! “Ang. From thee: even from thy virtue!” If it be urged, that “save you” only means preserve you in this world, my sense of the passage will not be much weakened; as our protection— “Even here, upon this bank and shoal of time,” depends on the Almighty. Steevens.

Note return to page 1010 4&lblank; atone them,] Make them one; reconcile them. Johnson. The expression is formed by the coalescence of the words at one, the verb to set, or some equivalent, being omitted. Thus, in the Acts: “&lblank; he showed himself to them as they strove, and would have set them at one again.” And in The Beehive of the Romish Church: “&lblank; through which God is made at one with us, and hath forgiven us our sins.” Henley. See Coriolanus, Act IV. Sc. VI. Malone.

Note return to page 1011 5If that the earth could teem, &c.] If women's tears could impregnate the earth. By the doctrine of equivocal generation, new animals were supposed producible by new combinations of matter. See Bacon, [vol. iii. p. 70, edit. 1740.] Johnson. Shakspeare here alludes to the fabulous accounts of crocodiles. Each tear, says Othello, which falls from the false Desdemona, would generate a crocodile, the most deceitful of all animals, and whose own tears are proverbially fallacious. “It is written,” says Bullokar, “that he will weep over a man's head when he hath devoured the body, and then will eat up the head too. Wherefore in Latin there is a proverbe, crocodili lachrymæ, crocodile's tears, to signifie such tears as are fained, and spent only with intent to deceive, or doe harm.” English Expositor, 8vo. 1616. It appears from this writer, that a dead crocodile, “but in perfect forme,” of about nine feet long, had been exhibited in London, in our poet's time. Malone.

Note return to page 1012 6Each drop she falls &lblank;] To fall is here a verb active. So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; when I rear my hand, do you the like, “To fall it on Gonzalo.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1013 7Sir, she can turn, &c.] So, in King Henry VI. Part I. “Done like a Frenchman; turn and turn again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1014 8&lblank; Proceed you in your tears.] I cannot think that the poet meant to make Othello bid Desdemona to continue weeping, which “proceed you in your tears,” (as the passage is at present pointed) must mean. He rather would have said: “&lblank; Proceed you in your tears?” What! will you still continue to be a hypocrite by a display of this well-painted passion? Warner. I think the old punctuation the true one. Malone.

Note return to page 1015 9I am commanded home:] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads, perhaps better: “I am commanded here—Get you away,” &c. The alteration, I suspect, was made, from the editor of the folio not perceiving that an abrupt sentence was intended. Malone. I am commanded here, (without the least idea of an abrupt sentence,) may be an indignant sentiment of Othello:—“I have an officer here placed over my head: I am now under the command of another:” i. e. of Cassio, to whom the government of Cyprus was just transferred. Steevens.

Note return to page 1016 1Cassio shall have my place.] Perhaps this is addressed to Desdemona, who had just expressed her joy on hearing Cassio was deputed in the room of her husband. Her innocent satisfaction in the hope of returning to her native place, is construed by Othello into the pleasure she received from the advancement of his rival. Steevens.

Note return to page 1017 2&lblank; Goats and monkies!] In this exclamation Shakspeare has shown great art. Iago, in the first scene in which he endeavours to awaken his suspicion, being urged to give some evident proof of the guilt of Cassio and Desdemona, tells him it were impossible to have ocular demonstration of it, though they should be “as prime as goats, as hot as monkies.”—These words we may suppose, still ring in the ears of Othello, who being now fully convinced of his wife's infidelity, rushes out with this emphatick exclamation: —Iago's words were but too true; now indeed I am convinced that they are as hot as “goats and monkies.” Malone. Though the words of Othello, cited by Mr. Malone, could not have escaped the deliberate reader's memory, a reference to a distant scene but ill agrees with the infuriation of Othello's mind. His fancy, haunted by still growing images of lewdness, would scarce have expressed its feelings in recollected phraseology. Steevens. They were words which he was not likely to have forgotten. Boswell.

Note return to page 1018 3&lblank; whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze, nor pierce?] I cannot see, for my heart, the difference betwixt the shot of accident and dart of chance. The words and things they imply are purely synonymous; but that the poet intended two different things seems plain from the discretive adverb. Chance may afflict a man in some circumstances; but other distresses are to be accounted for from a different cause. I am persuaded our author wrote: “The shot of accident, nor dart of change,” &c. And, in a number of other places, our poet industriously puts these two words in opposition to each other. Theobald. To graze is not merely to touch superficially, [as Dr. Warburton has stated,] but to strike not directly, not so as to bury the body of the thing striking in the matter struck. Theobald trifles, as is usual. Accident and chance may admit a subtle distinction; accident may be considered as the act, and chance as the power or agency of fortune; as, It was by chance that this accident befel me. At least, if we suppose all corrupt that is inaccurate, there will be no end of emendation. Johnson. I do not see the least ground for supposing any corruption in this passage. As pierce relates to the dart of chance, so graze is referred to the shot of accident. The expression is still used; we still say—he was grazed by a bullet. For graze, Dr. Warburton arbitrarily substituted—raze. Malone.

Note return to page 1019 4A Room in the Castle.] There are great difficulties in ascertaining the place of this scene. Near the close of it, Iago says to Desdemona, “Go in, and weep not,” which would lead us to place it in the court before Othello's castle. These words may indeed be explained to mean, “Go into the supper-room” (though I do not think that the meaning); but immediately afterwards Roderigo enters, and converses with Iago, which decisively ascertains the scene not to be in Othello's house: for Roderigo, who had given the first intelligence to Brabantio of his daughter's flight, and had shortly afterwards drawn his sword on Othello and his partisans, certainly would not take the liberty of walking into his house at pleasure. On the other hand, what Othello says early in the scene to Emilia— “Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;” and his subsequent address to her as he goes out, as decisively point out a room in Othello's castle as the place of the scene; and compel us to place the several interlocutors there, however inconsistent with Roderigo's entry, and Iago's address to Desdemona. The truth is, that our poet and his audience, in this instance, as in many others, were content, from want of scenery, to consider the very same spot, at one and at the same time, as the outside and inside of a house. See The Historical Account of the English Stage, &c. vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 1020 5&lblank; of their wives &lblank;] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—of her sex. Malone.

Note return to page 1021 6But not the words.] This line is added out of the first edition. Pope.

Note return to page 1022 7&lblank; time of scorn, &c.] The reading of both the eldest quartos and the folio is— “&lblank; for the time of scorn.” Mr. Rowe reads—hand of scorn; and succeeding editors have silently followed him. I would (though in opposition to so many great authorities in favour of the change) continue to read with the old copy: “&lblank; the time of scorn.” We call the hour in which we are to die, the hour of death— the time when we are to be judged—the day of judgment—the instant when we suffer calamity—the moment of evil; and why may we not distinguish the time which brings contempt along with it, by the title of the time of scorn? Thus, in King Richard III.: “Had you such leisure in the time of death?”— Again, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “To help king Edward in his time of storm?” Again, in Soliman and Perseda, 1599: “So sings the mariner upon the shore, “When he hath past the dangerous time of storms.” Again, in Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1613: “I'll poison thee; with murder curbe thy paths, “And make thee know a time of infamy.” Othello takes his idea from a clock. “To make me (says he) a fixed figure (on the dial of the world) for the hour of scorn to point and make a full stop at! By slow unmoving finger our poet could have meant only— so slow that its motion was imperceptible. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra the Messenger, describing the gait of the demure Octavia, says— “&lblank; she creeps; “Her motion and her station are as one:” i. e. she moved so slowly, that she appeared as if she stood still. Steevens. Might not Shakspeare have written: “&lblank; for the scorn of time “To point his slow unmoving finger at &lblank;,” i. e. the marked object for the contempt of all ages and all time. So, in Hamlet: “For who would bear the whips and scorns of time?” However, in support of the reading of the old copies, it may be observed, that our author has personified scorn in his 88th Sonnet: “When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light,” “And place my merit in the eye of scorn &lblank;.” The epithet unmoving may likewise derive some support from Shakspeare's 104th Sonnet, in which this very thought is expressed: “Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, “Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv'd; “So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, “Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd.” In the clocks of the last age there was, I think, in the middle of the dial-plate a figure of time, which, I believe, was in our poet's thoughts, when he wrote the passage in the text. [See Richard II. Act V. Sc. V.] Steevens. The finger of the dial was the technical phrase. So, in Albovine King of the Lombards, by D'Avenant, 1629: “Even as the slow finger of the dial “Doth in its motion circular remove “To distant figures &lblank;.” D'Avenant was a great reader of Shakspeare, and probably had read his plays, according to the fashion of the time, in the folio, without troubling himself to look into the quarto copies. Unmoving is the reading of the quarto 1622. The folio reads —and moving; and this certainly agrees with the image presented and its counterpart, better than unmoving, which can be applied to a clock, only by licence of poetry, (not appearing to move,) and as applied to scorn, has but little force: to say nothing of the superfluous epithet slow; for there needs no ghost to tells us, that that which is unmoving is slow. Slowimplies some sort of motion, however little it may be, and therefore appears to me to favour the reading of the folio. I have given the arguments on both sides, and, from respect to the opinion of others, have printed unmoving, though I am very doubtful whether it was the word intended by Shakspeare. The quarto 1622 has—fingers: the folio—finger. Malone. Perhaps we should read—slowly moving finger at. I should wish to reject the present reading, for even the word slow implies some degree of motion, though that motion may not be perceptible to the eye. The time of scorn is a strange expression, to which I cannot reconcile myself; I have no doubt but it is erroneous, and wish we had authority to read—hand of scorn, instead of time. M. Mason.

Note return to page 1023 8&lblank; garner'd up my heart;] That is, treasured up; the garner and the fountain are improperly conjoined. Johnson.

Note return to page 1024 9Where either I must live, or bear no life;] So, in King Lear: “Whereby we do exist, or cease to be.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1025 1&lblank; a cistern, for foul toads, &c.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made “A cistern for scal'd snakes &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1026 2&lblank; turn thy complexion there! &c.] At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change colour; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub as thou art, look as grim as hell. The old editions and the new have it: “I here look grim as hell.” I was written for ay, and not since corrected. Johnson. Here in the old copies was manifestly an error of the press. See the line next but one above. Mr. Theobald made the correction. Malone.

Note return to page 1027 3&lblank; O thou weed,] Dr. Johnson has, on this occasion, been unjustly censured for having stifled difficulties where he could not remove them. I would therefore observe, that Othello's speech is printed word for word from the folio edition, though the quarto reads: “O thou black weed!” Had this epithet, black, been admitted, there would still have remained an incomplete verse in the speech: no additional beauty would have been introduced; but instead of it, a paltry antithesis between the words black and fair. Steevens. The quarto 1622 reads: “O thou black weed, why art so lovely fair? “Thou smell'st so sweet, that the sense aches at thee,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1028 4Was this fair paper, &c.] Massinger has imitated this passage in The Emperor of the East: “&lblank; can you think “This master piece of heaven, this precious vellum “Of such a purity and virgin whiteness, “Could be design'd to have perjury and whoredom “In capital letters writ upon't?” Steevens.

Note return to page 1029 5Committed!] This, and the three following lines, are omitted in the first quarto. For the peculiar sense in which the word— committed, is here used, see Lear, Act III. Sc. XIV. See also, Decker's Bell-man's Night Walkes, &c.: “But what doe they? marrie, they doe that which the Constable should have done for them both in the streets; that is to say, commit, commit!” Steevens. This word in Shakspeare's time, beside its general signification, seems to have been applied particularly to unlawful acts of love.— Hence perhaps it is so often repeated by Othello. So, in Sir Thomas Overbury's Characters, (A Very Woman) 1614: “She commits with her ears for certain; after that, she may go for a maid, but she has been lain with in her understanding.” The word is used in the same sense in King Lear: “Commit not with man's sworn spouse.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, Part I.: “&lblank; if all committers stood in a rank, “They'd make a lane, in which your shame might dwell.” Malone.

Note return to page 1030 6The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind.” Malone.

Note return to page 1031 7If to preserve this vessel for my lord,] This expression, as well as many others, our author has borrowed from the sacred writings: “&lblank; to possess his vessel in sanctification,”— 1 Thess. iv. 4. Malone.

Note return to page 1032 8&lblank; any other &lblank;] Thus the folio. The quarto reads—any hatred. Steevens.

Note return to page 1033 9Who is thy lord?] This, and the following speech, are omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 1034 1&lblank; answer I have none, But what should go by water.] Camden has preserved an Epitaph on Queen Elizabeth, which concludes with a similar conceit: “I think the barge-men might with easier thighs “Have rowed her thither in her people's eyes: “For how-so-ere, thus much my thoughts have scann'd, “Sh'ad come by water, had she come by land.” Steevens. These lines are to be found in Decker's Wonderful Yeare, 1603, and probably were written by him. They are not as an epitaph. Reed.

Note return to page 1035 2&lblank; on my great'st abuse?] This is the reading of the quarto 1622, which Dr. Johnson thought preferable to the reading of the folio—on my least misuse? Malone.

Note return to page 1036 3&lblank; upon his callet.] Callet is a lewd woman; so called (says Dr. Grey) from the French calote, which was a sort of head-dress worn by country girls. This head-dress is mentioned by Ben Jonson in his Magnetick Lady: “The wearing the callot, the politick hood.” The word is likewise found in Cocke Lorelles Bote, a satyre, bl. 1. printed by Wynkyn de Worde, no date: “Yf he call her calat, she calleth hym knave agayne.” On the books of the Stationers' Company is the following entry: “Recevyd of Alexandre Lucye for his lycence for printinge of a boke intituled the—orders of Callets or drabbys.” 1563. Steevens. “&lblank; such terms upon his callet.” This word is of great antiquity in the English language. Chaucer has it in his Remedy of Love: “C, for calet, for of, we have O, “L, for leude, D, for demeanure,” &c. Percy. I meet with this word in the translation of Ariosto, 1591: “And thus this old ill-favour'd spiteful callet &lblank;.” Harrington, in a note on that line, says that “callet is a nickname used to a woman,” and that “in Irish it signifies a witch.” I have no faith in Dr. Grey's etymology of this word. Calote is a coif or light cap, worn by others beside country girls. Malone. Dr. Grey's etymology is taken from the Glossary to Urry's Chaucer. Reed.

Note return to page 1037 4&lblank; some most villainous knave,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—some outrageous knave. Malone.

Note return to page 1038 5&lblank; notorious &lblank;] For gross, not in its proper meaning for known. Johnson.

Note return to page 1039 6&lblank; such companions &lblank;] Companion, in the time of Shakspeare, was used as a word of contempt, in the same sense as fellow is at this day. So, in The Widow's Tears, by Chapman, 1612: “How now, base companion?” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “And better 'tis, that base companions die, “Than by their life to hazard our good haps.” Malone. The same term of degradation occurs and is explained in Julius Cæsar. See Act IV. Sc. III. In King Henry IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. IV. Dol Tearsheet also says to Pistol:—“I scorn you, scurvy companion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1040 7&lblank; the rascal &lblank;] Thus the quarto 1622; folio—rascals. Emilia first wishes that all base fellows were detected, and then that heaven would put a whip in every honest hand to punish in a signal manner that villainous knave, particularly in her thoughts, who had abused the too credulous Moor. Malone.

Note return to page 1041 8Speak within door.] Do not clamour so as to be heard beyond the house. Johnson.

Note return to page 1042 9&lblank; the seamy side without,] That is, inside out. Johnson. This idea has already occurred. In a former scene, Iago speaks of Roderigo as of one— “Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side outward.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1043 1Here I kneel: &c.] The first quarto omits these words and the rest of the speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 1044 2Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed;] Thus the old copies. So, in Hamlet: “O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, “Would have mourn'd longer.” The modern editors, following Mr. Pope, read—discourse, or thought. Malone. Notwithstanding the instance given in favour of the old reading, I suspect, on the authority of the following note, that Mr. Pope's correction is defensible. Steevens. The three ways of committing sin mentioned in the Catholick catechisms are—in thought, word, and deed. C. The same words remain in our Liturgy. Steevens.

Note return to page 1045 3&lblank; and he does chide with you.] This line is from the quarto 1622. Steevens. To chide with was the phraseology of the time. We have the same phrase in Shakspeare's 111th Sonnet: “O for my sake do you with fortune chide.” Malone. The same phrase indeed occurs in p. 302, but perhaps with a somewhat different construction: “And chides with thinking.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1046 4And the great messengers of Venice stay:] Thus the quarto. The folio poorly reads: “The messengers of Venice stay the meat.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1047 5&lblank; and acquittance;] This is the reading of the original quarto 1622. The folio reads—and acquaintance. Acquittance is requital. So, in King Henry V.: “And shall forget the office of our hand “Sooner than 'quittance of desert and merit.” Malone.

Note return to page 1048 6&lblank; your suspicion is not without wit and judgment.] Shakspeare knew well, that most men like to be flattered on account of those endowments in which they are most deficient. Hence Iago's compliment to this snipe on his sagacity and shrewdness. Malone.

Note return to page 1049 7&lblank; take me from this world with treachery, and devise engines for my life, &c.] To devise engines, seems to mean, to contrive racks, tortures, &c. Ritson. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1050 8&lblank; there is especial commission &lblank;] Shakspeare probably wrote—a special &lblank;. Malone.

Note return to page 1051 9He sups to-night with a harlot,] The folio reads—a harlotry, which may be right. Our author has the expression—“a peevish self-will'd harlotry,” in two plays. Ritson.

Note return to page 1052 1&lblank; It is now high supper-time,] I believe we should read: “It is now nigh supper-time &lblank;.” M. Mason. The old reading is the true one. There is no phrase more common than—“high time to go to bed—to get up,” &c. High time, is full, complete time. Thus Spenser, in his Fairy Queen: “High time now 'gan it wax for Una fair “To think of those her captive parents &lblank;.” Again: “High time it is this war now ended were.” Clarendon is frequent in his use of this expression. Steevens.

Note return to page 1053 2&lblank; and the night grows to waste:] I suppose Iago means to say, that it is near midnight. Perhaps we ought to print—waist. Both the old copies, the quarto 1622, and the folio 1623, read— wast, which was the old spelling of waist. So, Hamlet: “In the dead wast [waist] and middle of the night.” See note on that passage, vol. vii. p. 209, n. 6. See also, The Puritan, a comedy, 1607: “&lblank; ere the day “Be spent to the girdle, thou shalt be free.” The words, however, may only mean—the night is wasting apace. Malone. The last is certainly the true explanation. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1054 3&lblank; Good father!] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads —all's one, good faith. Malone.

Note return to page 1055 4&lblank; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad, And did forsake her:] I believe that mad only signifies wild, frantick, uncertain. Johnson. Mad, in the present instance, ought to mean—inconstant. Ritson. We still call a wild giddy girl a mad-cap: and, in The First Part of King Henry VI. are mentioned: “Mad, natural graces that extinguish art.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Come on, you mad-cap.” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Do you hear, my mad wenches?” Steevens.

Note return to page 1056 5&lblank; I have much to do, But to go hang my head &lblank;] I have much ado to do any thing but hang my head. We might read: “Not to go hang my head.” This is perhaps the only insertion made in the latter editions which has improved the play. The rest seem to have been added for the sake of amplification, or of ornament. When the imagination had subsided, and the mind was no longer agitated by the horror of the action, it became at leisure to look round for specious additions. This addition is natural. Desdemona can at first hardly forbear to sing the song; she endeavours to change her train of thoughts, but her imagination at last prevails, and she sings it. Johnson. From I have much to do, to Nay, that's not next, was inserted after the first edition, as was likewise the remaining part of the song. Steevens.

Note return to page 1057 6The poor soul, &c.] This song, in two parts, is printed in a late collection of old ballads; the lines preserved here differ somewhat from the copy discovered by the ingenious collector. Johnson.

Note return to page 1058 7&lblank; sat sighing &lblank;] The folio reads—singing. The passage, as has been already observed, is not in the original copy printed in 1622. The reading of the text is taken from a quarto of no authority printed in 1630. Sighing, as Mr. Steevens has observed, is also the reading in the black-letter copy of this ballad, in the Pepys Collection, which Dr. Percy followed. See The Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. 192. Malone.

Note return to page 1059 8Sing all a green willow; &c.] In the Gallery of Gorgious Inuentions, &c. 4to. 1578, there is also a song to which the burden is— “Willow, willow, willow, sing all of green willow; “Sing all of greene willow shall be my garlánd.” Sig. L. ii. Steevens.

Note return to page 1060 9The fresh streams, &c.] These lines are formed with some additions from two couplets of the original song: “The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; “O willow, &c. “The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face; “O willow, &c. “The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones; “O willow, &c. “The salt tears fell from him, which soften'd the stones.” Malone.

Note return to page 1061 1Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,] In the original: “Let nobody blame me, her scorns I do prove, “O willow, &c. “She was born to be fair; I to die for her love.” Malone.

Note return to page 1062 2I call'd my love, false love;] This couplet is not in the ballad, which is the complaint, not of a woman forsaken, but of a man rejected. These lines were properly added when it was accommodated to a woman. Johnson.

Note return to page 1063 3&lblank; you'll couch with mo men.] This verb is found also in The Two Noble Kinsmen, 1634; “&lblank; O, if thou couch “But one night with her &lblank;.” Malone. It is used likewise in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; couching with the lawyer's clerk.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1064 4I have heard it said so.] This, as well as the following speech, is omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 1065 5&lblank; for a joint-ring;] Anciently a common token among lovers. They are mentioned by Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632, 544: “With tokens, hearts divided, and halfe rings.” The nature of these rings will be best explained by a passage in Dryden's Don Sebastian: “&lblank; a curious artist wrought them, “With joints so close as not to be perceiv'd; “Yet are they both each other's counterpart: “Her part had Juan inscrib'd, and his had Zayda, “(You know those names are theirs) and, in the midst, “A heart divided in two halves was plac'd. “Now if the rivets of those rings inclos'd, “Fit not each other, I have forg'd this lye: “But if they join, you must for ever part.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1066 6To the vantage,] i. e. to boot, over and above. Steevens.

Note return to page 1067 7But, I do think, &c.] The remaining part of this speech is omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 1068 8And pour our treasures into foreign laps;] So, in our author's 142d Sonnet: “Robb'd others beds' revenues of their rents.” Malone.

Note return to page 1069 9&lblank; our former having &lblank;] Our former allowance of expence. Johnson.

Note return to page 1070 1&lblank; have sense like them:] Sense is used here, as in Hamlet, for sensation, or sensual appetite. See vol. vii. p. 394, n. 2. Malone.

Note return to page 1071 2&lblank; instruct us so.] Mr. Malone, in the following note, has described and rejected a correction which I have received on the authority of the following passage in Pericles. Till this instant I had supposed this passage itself to need amendment: “Your honour and your goodness teach me to it.” Perhaps no rhyme was intended. Steevens. “&lblank; instruct us so.” i. e. so to do. This passage, [in Othello,] as has been already observed, is not in the quarto 1622. The reading of my text [so] is that of the folio 1623. The modern editors, following an alteration made by the editor of the second folio, read—instruct us to. Our poet, for the sake of rhyme, often uses an uncommon phraseology; I have therefore adhered to the authentick copy. Malone.

Note return to page 1072 3&lblank; Heaven me such usage send,] Such uses is the reading of the folio, and of the subsequent editions; but the old quarto has, —such usage send. Usage is an old word for custom, and, I think, better than uses. Johnson.

Note return to page 1073 4I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry.] This is a passage much controverted among the editors. Sir T. Hanmer reads quab, a gudgeon; not that a gudgeon can be rubbed to much sense, but that a man grossly deceived is often called a gudgeon. Mr. Upton reads— quail, which he proves, by much learning, to be a very cholerick bird. Dr. Warburton retains gnat, which is found in the early quarto. Theobald would introduce knot, a small bird of that name. I have followed the text of the folio, and third and fourth quartos. A quat in the midland counties is a pimple, which by rubbing is made to smart, or is rubbed to sense. Roderigo is called a quat by the same mode of speech, as a low fellow is now termed in low language a scab. To rub to the sense, is to rub to the quick. Johnson. The same explanation appeared in The British Magazine, p. 425, in the year 1748. Reed. So, in The Devil's Law Case, 1623: “O young quat! incontinence is plagued in all creatures in the world.” Again, in Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609: “&lblank; whether he be a yong quat of the first yeeres revennew, or some austere and sullen-fac'd steward,” &c. Such another thought occurs in Ben Jonson's Catiline: “&lblank; must have their disgraces still new rubb'd, “To make them smart,” &c. Again, in the Preface to Robert Dallington's Method of Travel, shewed by taking the View of France, as it stood in the Yeare of our Lord, 1598: “&lblank; and be assured that where it rubbeth the French itche till it smart,” &c. Again, in Chapman's translation of Homer's Batrachomuomachia: “And this it is that rubs the angry sore “Of my offence &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1074 5&lblank; my gain &lblank;] The quartos read—my game. Steevens.

Note return to page 1075 6&lblank; that I bobb'd from him,] That I fool d him out of. A bob formerly signified a mock, or jeer. Cole renders it in his Dictionary, 1679, by sanna, as he does bobb'd by illusus. So, in Turberville's Songs and Sonnets: “A schollar skillde in Virgil's verse,   “And reading of his booke “Arma virumque that begins,   “Was caught in Cupid's hooke. “At length to mariage flat he fell,   “When wedding-day was doon, “To play her pranks, and bob the foole,   “The shrowish wife begoon.” Malone. To bob for fish is likewise a technical term among those who delight in angling. Thus, in a well-known line describing a giant's occupation: “He sat upon a rock, and bobb'd for whales.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1076 7&lblank; in the leg,] Iago maims Cassio in his leg, in consequence of what he had just heard him say, from which he supposed that his body was defended by some secret armour. Malone.

Note return to page 1077 8And your fate hies apace:] Thus the first quarto. The second quarto and the folio read—And your unblest fate hies. Steevens.

Note return to page 1078 9Forth of my heart, &c.] Thus the first quarto. The folio reads—For of. Steevens. Mr. Whalley observes to me that the reading of the quarto is the true one. Forth signifies both out and from. So, in Hamlet: “Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep.” Again, in Jonson's Volpone: “Forth the resolved corners of his eyes.” Mr. Henley has also made the same observation, and in proof of it produced the following passages from King Kichard III.: “I clothe my naked villainy “With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ.” Again: “'Faith, none but Humphrey Houre, that call'd your grace, “To breakfast once, forth of my company.” Reed. For off [once proposed by Mr. Steevens] is the conjectural reading introduced by the editor of the second folio, and is one of a thousand proofs of capricious alterations made in that copy, without any regard to the most ancient editions. The original reading is undoubtedly the true one. So, in Mount Tabor, or the Private Exercises of a Penitent Sinner, 1639: “&lblank; whilst all this was acting, there came forth of another door at the farthest end of the stage, two old men,” &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1079 1&lblank; no passage?] No passengers? nobody going by? Johnson. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Now in the stirring passage of the day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1080 2&lblank; a heavy night:] A thick cloudy night, in which an ambush may be commodiously laid. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure: “Upon the heavy middle of the night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1081 3&lblank; whose noise is this, that cries on murder?] Thus the quarto 1622, and the folio 1623; and such was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. So, in Eastward Hoe, a comedy, 1605: “Who cries on murder? lady, was it you?” That line is a parody on one in The Spanish Tragedy.—To cry on, as Dr. Johnson has observed in a note on Hamlet, vol. vii. p. 517, is to exclaim against. The editor of the second folio, who altered whatever he did not understand, for cries on, substituted cries out, and has been followed by all the modern editors. Malone. To “cry on” any thing, is not, I believe, a phrase more ancient than to “cry out” on any thing. In King Henry IV. Part II. these prepositions act together in one line: “And that same word even now cries out on us.” Perhaps they would both also have been employed in the passage under consideration, but that the structure of our author's verse required only one of them.—I mention these circumstances, that the enormous guilt of the second folio, and its copiers, may be in some degree extenuated. Steevens. The ignorance of the editor of the second folio (not his enormous guilt), and the carelessness of those who followed him, are not at all extenuated by this remark. The question is, whether cry on was not a phrase of Shakspeare's time, which it is proved to have been; and therefore need not have been altered. Shakspeare might indeed have written cry out on; but he did not so write; and the text would not have been disturbed if the person who made the alteration had understood his language. Malone.

Note return to page 1082 4&lblank; are you of good, or evil?] So, in Hamlet: “Art thou a spirit of health? or goblin damn'd?” Steevens.

Note return to page 1083 5Lend me a garter, &c.] This speech is omitted in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 1084 6To be a party in this injury,] Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads—to bear a part in this. Steevens.

Note return to page 1085 7Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman,] This passage incontestably proves that Iago was meant for a Venetian. Steevens.

Note return to page 1086 8&lblank; good gentlemen:] Thus the folio. The quarto reads —gentlewoman. Steevens. That the reading of the quarto is right, may be collected from the situation and feelings of the parties on the scene. No reason can be assigned why Lodovico and Gratiano should immediately quit the spot where they now are, before they had heard from Iago further particulars of the attack on Cassio, merely because Cassio was borne off: whereas, on the other hand, his mistress, Bianca, who has been officiously offering him assistance, would naturally endeavour to accompany him to his lodgings. Malone. There seems to me to be a very good reason assignable why these two gentlemen should immediately quit the spot on Cassio's being borne off, viz. to assist him or see him properly taken care of, rather than to stay and gratify their curiosity. Respect for the person appointed Othello's successor, if not personal regard, would, I should think, naturally have dictated such a proceeding, had they not been stopped by Iago's desiring them not to go. Reed. Iago stops Bianca under a pretended suspicion that she would endeavour to escape, and then proceeds in taunting language to accuse her of guilt. Boswell.

Note return to page 1087 9&lblank; the gastness &lblank;] So the folio. The quartos read— jestures. Steevens.

Note return to page 1088 1Nay, if you stare,] So the folio. The quartos read—stirre. Steevens.

Note return to page 1089 2&lblank; guiltiness will speak, Though tongues were out of use.] So, in Hamlet: “For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak “With most miraculous organ.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1090 3&lblank; Pr'ythee, Emilia, Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night:] In the last scene of the preceding Act Iago informs Roderigo, that Cassio was to sup with Bianca; that he would accompany Cassio to her house, and would take care to bring him away from thence between twelve and one. Cassio too had himself informed Iago, Act IV. Sc. I. that he would sup with Bianca, and Iago had promised to meet him at her house. Perhaps, however, here Iago chose to appear ignorant of this fact, conscious that he had waylaid Cassio, and therefore desirous of being thought ignorant of his motions during the evening. Malone. Yet, how happens it, that Bianca, instead of replying—He supp'd, &c. did not answer, addressing herself to Iago: “Why, you well know, “He supp'd,” &c.? The former line being imperfect, some such words might have been omitted. Or, perhaps, our author was unwilling that Bianca should say, in the presence of Iago's wife, that he too had been of Cassio's supper-party; and hence this seeming inconsistency. Steevens.

Note return to page 1091 4&lblank; or fordoes me quite.] To fordo, is to undo, to ruin, to destroy. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; did with desperate hand, “Fordo its own life.” Again, in the Interlude of Jacob and Esau, 1578: “If God were so pleased, I would that were fordonne.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1092 5It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,— Let me not name it &lblank;] The abruptness of this soliloquy makes it obscure. The meaning, I think, is this:—I am here (says Othello in his mind) overwhelmed with horror. What is the reason of this perturbation? Is it want of resolution to do justice? Is it the dread of shedding blood? No; it is not the action that shocks me, but “it is the cause, it is the cause, my soul; let me not name it to you, ye chaste stars! it is the cause.” Johnson. Othello, full of horror at the cruel action which he is about to perpetrate, seems at this instant to be seeking his justification, from representing to himself the cause, i. e. the greatness of the provocation he had received. He may, however, mean—It is the cause of chastity and virtue, that I maintain. Steevens. Surely Mr. Steevens's first explanation is the true one. There could be no reason why the cause of chastity and virtue should not be named to the chaste stars. Boswell.

Note return to page 1093 6&lblank; you chaste stars &lblank;] For the epithet—chaste, applied to the stars, there is perhaps no classical authority. Statius, when Achilles, disguised in a female habit, had proved his manhood on Deidamia, observes that— &lblank; risit chorus omnis ab alto Astrorum, et teneræ rubuerunt cornua Lunæ. Hence we may infer that an occurrence offensive to the moon, was anciently supposed to put the less prudish stars (“Diana's waiting-women”) in good humour. Steevens.

Note return to page 1094 7Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.] This is the second attempt of Othello to justify what he has undertaken. First he says, It is the cause, i. e. his own cause; now he is willing to suppose himself the preventer of mischief to others. Steevens.

Note return to page 1095 8Put out the light, and then put out the light:] It should be thus printed: “Put out the light, and then—Put out the light!” The meaning is, I will put out the light, and then proceed to the execution of my purpose. But the expression of putting out the light, bringing to mind the effects of the extinction of the light of life, he breaks short, and questions himself about the effects of this metaphorical extinction, introduced by a repetition of his first words, as much as to say,—But hold, let me first weigh the reflections which this expression so naturally excites. Warburton. This has been considered as a very difficult line. Fielding makes Betterton and Booth dispute about it with the author himself in the other world. The punctuation recommended by Dr. Warburton, gives a spirit to it which I fear was not intended. It seems to have been only a play upon words. To put the light out was a phrase for to kill. In The Maid's Tragedy, Melantius says: “&lblank; 'Tis a justice, and a noble one, “To put the light out of such base offenders.” Farmer. This phrase is twice used in Sidney's Arcadia, for killing a lady, p. 460 and 470, edit. 1633. Again, in an unpublished play called The Second Maiden's Tragedy, by George Chapman, licensed by Sir George Buc, October 31st, 1611: (now in the library of the Marquis of Lansdowne, who honoured me with the use of it:) “&lblank; O soul of cunning! “Came that arch subtlety from thy lady's counsel, “Or thine own sudden craft? confess to me “How oft thou hast been a bawd to their close actions, “Or all thy light goes out.” Steevens. “Put out the light, and then put out the light.” This is one of the passages to which I have alluded in a note on As You Like It, on the word quintaine (see the end of that play), in which, by a modern regulation, our poet's words have obtained a meaning, which in my opinion was not in his thoughts. Mr. Upton, I had imagined, was the first person who introduced the conceit in this line, which has been adopted since his book appeared, by pointing it thus: “Put out the light, and then—Put out the light!” &c. but I have since discovered it in Ayres's Life of Pope. I entirely agree with Dr. Farmer, that this regulation gives a spirit to this passage that was not intended. The poet, I think, meant merely to say,—“I will now put out the lighted taper which I hold, and then put out the light of life;” and this introduces his subsequent reflection and comparison, just as aptly, as supposing the latter words of the line to be used in the same sense as in the beginning of it, which cannot be done without destroying that equivoque and play of words of which Shakspeare was so fond. There are few images which occur more frequently in his works than this. Thus, in King Henry VI. Part III. the dying Clifford says: “Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies.” Again, in Macbeth: “Out, out, brief candle!” Again, in King Henry VIII.: “This candle burns not clear; 'tis I must snuff it; “Then out it goes.” Again, in his Rape of Lucrece: “Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not “To darken her, whose light excelleth thine!” Let the words—“put out her light,” stand for a moment in the place of “darken her,” and then the sense will run—“Burn out thy light, fair torch, and lend it not to put out her light, whose light is more excellent than thine.” In the very same strain, says Othello, “let me first extinguish the light I now hold, and then put out the light” of life. But how different in effect and importance are these two acts! The extinguished taper can be lighted again, but the light of life, when once extinguished, can never, alas, be relumined! The same image is to be found in Shakspeare's contemporaries. Thus, in Strange and Tragical Hystories, &c. 1577: “What enorme and strange tragedyes have every one sene in the empire of the east, that is stayned with the bloude of fathers shead by the children, and of the lighte of the children obscured by the handes of their owne mothers.” The question is not, which regulation renders the passage most elegant and spirited, but what was the poet's idea.—I believe, however, that Shakspeare wrote—and then put out thy light; and the reading of the original copy in a subsequent line, “&lblank;but once puts out thine,” seems to me to countenance this emendation. In The Merchant of Venice the word light is used with equal ambiguity: “Let me give light, but let me not be light.” Malone. I have felt myself bound to print the text according to Mr. Malone's opinion; but if Warburton's explanation be an error, it is demptus per vim, I for one am very sorry to part with it. Broken sentences, as Mr. Malone has more than once observed, are very much in our poet's manner, and are surely natural in the perturbed state of Othello's mind. I am unwilling to persuade myself that a regulation of the text which contains so much beauty could be merely the refinement of a critic, and that our great author, in one of his most highly-wrought scenes, instead of it, intended nothing but a cold conceit. Boswell.

Note return to page 1096 9&lblank; put out thine,] Thus the quarto. The folio reads— put out thy light. I have chosen the former reading for the sake of measure, and to escape a useless repetition of the word—light. Steevens.

Note return to page 1097 1Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,] So, in Palmerin D'Oliva, 1588, p. 1: “&lblank; those that beheld her, esteemed her for the chiefest piece of workmanshipp that ever nature framed.” Reed.

Note return to page 1098 2That can thy light relume &lblank;] Thus the folio. The first quarto—return: the second quarto—relumine. Steevens. Our poet has illume for illuminate, in Hamlet: “Had made his course, to illume that part of heaven, “Where now it burns.” Malone.

Note return to page 1099 3&lblank; thy rose,] Thus the folio. The quarto reads,—the rose. Again, the quarto reads: “&lblank; I'll smell it on the tree.” The folio: “I'll smell thee on the tree.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1100 4&lblank; This sorrow's heavenly;] This tenderness, with which I lament the punishment which justice compels me to inflict, is a holy passion. I wish these two lines could be honestly ejected. It is the fate of Shakspeare to counteract his own pathos. Johnson. Perhaps the poet would not have retained both these images, had he published the play himself, though in the hurry of composition he threw them both upon paper. The first seems adopted from the fabulous history of the crocodile, the second from a passage in the Scripture. Steevens. “Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 1101 5&lblank; I would not kill thy soul.] So, in the First Part of the Straunge and Wonderful Adventures of Don Simonides, &c. bl. 1. 4to. 1581: “&lblank; for that her Master would putte her Mistris to shrifte, before he destroyed her bodie, yet to the savegarde of her soul.” Sir W. D'Avenant has also borrowed this thought in his Albovine King of Lombardy, 1629: “I am not fraught with devil's spleen; I would “Not hurt thy soul.” Othello appears to have been a favourite of his author; for he has bestowed on him that piety which he had refused to Hamlet. See vol. vii. p. 382. Steevens.

Note return to page 1102 6&lblank; for you are fatal then, When your eyes roll so.] A similar indication of the power of savage jealousy is found in Straunge, Lamentable, and Tragicall Hystories, translated out of the French into English by R. S. 4to. 1577, sign. E 4, verso: “&lblank; hee was changed into suche a choler, by the impoysoning of the dangerous venime jelosy, as one distraught and frantick, and remayned in the chamber a great space rolling his eyes in whitenesse, grinding his teeth, and saying the dogges paternoster against him of whome he thought he had receyved such an unworthy outrage.” Malone.

Note return to page 1103 7Since guiltiness I know not; but yet, I feel, I fear.] Read: “Since guilt I know not; but yet, I feel, I fear.” Guiltiness has been already misprinted for guilt. [See p. 461, line 1.] It is impossible that Shakspeare should lengthen a word merely to spoil his metre. Ritson. In the page referred to by Mr. Ritson the reader will only find another instance in which he would wish to tamper with the text. His alteration in this instance would not make the metre correct. Boswell. The chivalry of criticism does not, in my opinion, require us to defend the old copies (those grannams of the stage, balba de nare locutæ) when they so grossly offend against the laws of metre. In the earlier part of this work I have got rid of some of their deformities, but in this and a few of the latter plays I have been content with exposing them, being certain that their notoriety will hereafter prove the means of securing a privilege which, respecting the present editors, may be litigated. Steevens.

Note return to page 1104 8That death's unnatural, that kills for loving.] This thought is likewise found in The Legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, a poem, by H. L. 16mo. 1597: “Unnatural, which kill where you should kisse.” Again, in our poet's King Richard III.: “It is a quarrel most unnatural, “To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 1105 9A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:] This line is difficult. Thou hast hardened my heart, and makest me kill thee with the rage of a murderer, when I thought to have sacrificed thee to justice with the calmness of a priest striking a victim. It must not be omitted, that one of the elder quartos reads,— “thou dost stone thy heart;” which I suspect to be genuine. The meaning then will be,—thou forcest me to dismiss thee from the world in the state of the murdered without preparation for death, when I intended that thy punishment should have been a sacrifice atoning for thy crime. I am glad that I have ended my revisal of this dreadful scene. It is not to be endured. Johnson. Thy heart, is the reading of the original quarto, 1622. Malone.

Note return to page 1106 1That he hath—us'd thee.] The quarto 1622 exhibits this line thus: “That he hath—uds death.” Malone.

Note return to page 1107 1&lblank; hath ta'en order for't.] i. e. has taken measures. So, in Holinshed's Reign of King John: “&lblank; he took such order for him, that he was despoiled of all his goods and benefices.” P. 174. Steevens. Again, in Dido, Queen of Carthage, by Marlowe and Nashe, 1594: “I will take order for that presently.” Malone.

Note return to page 1108 2Had all his hairs been lives,] This thought appears to have been very common, as it occurs frequently in dramatick performances prior to Shakspeare's Othello. So, in The Devil's Charter, by Barnaby Barnes, 1607: “Know, Cæsar, had I now as many lives “As there are stones, or hairs upon my head, “I would,” &c. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's King and no King: “&lblank; but if all “My hairs were lives, I would not be engaged “In such a cause.” Again, in Hieronymo: “Had I as many lives as there be stars &lblank;.” Steevens. King and No King, as appears by Sir Henry Herbert's papers, was produced in 1611. See The Historical Account of the English Stage, vol. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 1109 3Being done, There is no pause.] The first quarto omits this speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 1110 4It is too late.] After this speech of Othello, the elder quarto adds an invocation from Desdemona, consisting only of the sacred name thrice repeated. As this must be supposed to have been uttered while she is yet struggling with death, I think an editor may be excused from inserting such a circumstance of supererogatory horror, especially as it is found in but one of the ancient copies. Steevens. This alteration was probably made in consequence of the statute of the 3d of James I. c. 21, which lays a penalty for the profane use of the name of God, &c. in stage-plays, interludes, Maygames, &c. Tollet. The statute was necessary; for not only the ancient moralities, but the plays (those of Chapman in particular) abound with the most wanton and shocking repetitions of a name which never ought to be mentioned in such an irreverend manner on the stage. Steevens. The alteration was undoubtedly made by the Master of the Revels. Malone.

Note return to page 1111 5My wife! my wife! what wife?—I have no wife:] “Filium unicum adolescentulum habeo: ah! quid dixi habere me? imò habui, Chreme.” Ter. Heautont. Steevens.

Note return to page 1112 6O heavy hour!] In the first scene of this Act we have “&lblank; a heavy night.” This epithet likewise occurs in a sense somewhat unusual in Letters from the Paston Family, vol. ii. p. 193: “&lblank; it is demyd yt my Lady wolde hereafter be the rather myn hevy Lady for yt delyng &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1113 7It is the very error of the moon; She comes more near the earth than she was wont; And makes men mad.] So, in The Play of The Wether, by John Heywood, 4to, bl. 1.: “On my fayth I thynke the moone be at the full, “For frantyke fansyes be then moste plentefull.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1114 8O, falsely, falsely murder'd!] It cannot be supposed that a person who had been effectually strangled or smothered, could speak again; for if the power of breathing returned after the instrument of suffocation was removed, no act of violence had in reality taken place by which the conclusion of life could be brought on. But such is the peculiar fate of Desdemona, that she is supposed to be smothered, revives to acquaint us that she smothered herself, and then dies without the ostensible cause of death. I am of opinion that some theatrical direction has been omitted; and that when Othello says— “&lblank; Not dead? not yet quite dead? “I, that am cruel, am yet merciful; “I would not have thee linger in thy pain:— “So, so.” He then stabs her, repeating the two last words, as he repeats the blow. Thus, Virgil: &lblank; sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras. After the repetition of wounds, Desdemona might speak again, with propriety, and yet very soon expire; as says Cassio of Roderigo: “&lblank; even but now he spake, “After long seeming dead.” The first resolution of Othello was to poison her, but from this measure he is dissuaded by the policy of Iago. He is next determined to use the poniard; but, his tenderness awaking, he cannot bear to deform those beauties which he had so often approached with other sensations, and for different purposes. Therefore, says he, “&lblank; I'll not shed her blood, “Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow, “And smooth as monumental alabaster:” And this resolution we are to imagine he would have kept, but that he was averse to employing those means again, which had already appeared to be uncertain in their effect. If this apparent want of a play-house direction had occasioned any absurdity in the original representation of the play, probably it is glanced at by Ben Jonson in The Alchemist, Act V.: “Didst hear a cry, said'st thou? Yes, sir, like unto a man that had been strangled an hour, and could not speak.” Steevens. If Mr. Malone's conjecture, as to the year in which Othello was written is correct, there cannot be the slightest ground for Mr. Steevens's imputation upon Jonson. The classical reader need not have his attention called to the whimsical interpretation given in the preceding note of the words of Virgil, sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras. Boswell.

Note return to page 1115 9She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell;] Here is nothing faulty in this passage, but it may be read— “She's, like a liar, gone to burn in hell.” The vulgar denunciation of future vengeance is,—I think, you'll burn in hell for this. Whalley. So, in King Richard II.: “That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1116 1She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.] Folly, signifies here, as in the sacred writings, wantonness or unchastity. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly.” Malone. So, in Deuteronomy, xxii. 21: “&lblank; she hath wrought folly in Israel, to play the whore,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1117 2&lblank; false as water.] As water that will support no weight, nor keep any impression. Johnson. In Genesis, chap. 49, old translation, v. 3, Jacob applies a similar term to Reuben: “Thou was light as water.” Malone.

Note return to page 1118 3&lblank; this extremity;] Perhaps our author wrote—to this extreme. The measure demands a shorter word than the former. Thus, in Romeo and Juliet: “'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife “Shall play the umpire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1119 4&lblank; chrysolite,] Pliny, in his Natural History, book xxxvii. ch. 8. informs us, that Ptolemy Philadelphus had a statue of his wife Arsinoe, made of one topaz, four cubits in length. He used topaz and chrysolite (says Dr. Clarke, in his lectures on mineralogy) as synonymous terms. Perhaps Shakspeare alluded to this story. Plumptre.

Note return to page 1120 5&lblank; that told me first;] The folio reads—that told me on her first. Steevens.

Note return to page 1121 5&lblank; iterance.] Thus the folio. The quarto reads—iteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 1122 6Emil.] The first quarto omits this and the following speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 1123 7&lblank; villainy hath made mocks with love!] Villainy has taken advantage to play upon the weakness of a violent passion. Johnson.

Note return to page 1124 8Thou hast not half the power to do me harm, As I have to be hurt.] She means to say,—‘I have in this cause power to endure more than thou hast power to inflict.’ Johnson. This sentiment is more expanded in King Henry VIII.: “&lblank; I am able now, methinks, “(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) “To endure more miseries and greater far, “Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.” Again, in King Henry VI. Part II.: “More can I bear than you dare execute.” Of this last line there is no trace in the old play on which Shakspeare formed The Second Part of King Henry VI. Malone.

Note return to page 1125 9&lblank; charm your tongue.] By this expression, “&lblank; charm your tongue,” the poet meant no more than to make Iago say, ‘Apply some power, strong as a charm would be, to your tongue; for nothing less can stop its volubility.’ So, in King Henry VI. Part III.: “Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.” Again, Ben Jonson, in Cynthia's Revels: “&lblank; charm your skipping tongue.” Again, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, b. v. c. ix.: “That well could charm his tongue, and time his speech.” Again, in The Yorkshire Tragedy, 1608: “The surest way to charm a woman's tongue, “Is—break her neck:—a politician did it.” The same phrase is also employed by Chapman in his version of the fifth Iliad: “Downe from the chariot he fell, his gay arms shin'd and rung, “The swift horse trembled, and his soule for ever charm'd his tongue.” Pliny informs us, that favete linguis was the constant exclamation before any religious charm was applied. From this circumstance the phrase, to charm a tongue, might have originated. Steevens.

Note return to page 1126 1My mistress, &c.] This line, and the following six speeches, are wanting in the first quarto. Steevens.

Note return to page 1127 2I thought so then;] i. e. at the instant when she gave Desdemona's handkerchief to Iago: for even then Emilia appears to have suspected it was sought after for no honest purpose, and therefore asks her husband— “What will you do with it?” &c. See p. 376. Steevens.

Note return to page 1128 3Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobation.] So, in our author's 144th Sonnet: “&lblank; my female evil “Tempteth my better angel from my side.” Malone. “&lblank; reprobation.” Both the first and second folio read—reprobance. Steevens.

Note return to page 1129 4A thousand times committed;] This is another passage which seems to suppose a longer space comprised in the action of this play than the scenes include. Johnson. “That she with Cassio hath the act of shame “A thousand times committed &lblank;.” And again: “'Tis not a year or two shows us a man.” I am not convinced from these passages only, that a longer space is comprised in the action of this play than the scenes include. What Othello mentions in the first instance, might have passed still more often, before they were married, when Cassio went between them; for she, who could find means to elude the vigilance of her father in respect of Othello, might have done so in respect of Cassio, when there was time enough for the occurrence supposed to have happened. A jealous person will aggravate all he thinks, or speaks of; and might use a thousand for a much less number, only to give weight to his censure: nor would it have answered any purpose to have made Othello a little nearer or further off from truth in his calculation. We might apply the poet's own words in Cymbeline: “&lblank; spare your arithmetick; “Once, and a million.” The latter is a proverbial expression, and might have been introduced with propriety, had they been married only a day or two. Emilia's reply perhaps was dictated by her own private experience; and seems to mean only, ‘that it is too soon to judge of a husband's disposition; or that Desdemona must not be surprised at the discovery of Othello's jealousy, for it is not even a year or two that will display all the failings of a man.’ Mr. Tollet, however, on this occasion has produced several instances in support of Dr. Johnson's opinion; and as I am unable to explain them in favour of my own supposition, I shall lay them before the publick. Act III. Sc. III. Othello says: “What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? “I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: “I slept the next night well, was free and merry: “I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips.” “On Othello's wedding night he and Cassio embarked from Venice, where Desdemona was left under the care of Iago. They all meet at Cyprus; and since their arrival there, the scenes include only one night, the night of the celebration of their nuptials. Iago had not then infused any jealousy into Othello's mind, nor did he suspect any former intimacy between Cassio and Desdemona, but only thought it “apt and of great credit that she loved him.” What night then was there to intervene between Cassio's kisses and Othello's sleeping the next night well? Iago has said, “I lay with Cassio lately,” which he could not have done, unless they had been longer at Cyprus than is represented in the play; nor could Cassio have kept away, for the space of a whole week, from Bianca.” Steevens. In confirmation of Johnson's observation, that this and several other passages tend to prove that a larger space of time is comprized in the action of this play than the scenes include, we may cite that in which Emilia says, “That her husband had a hundred times woo'd her to steal Desdemona's handkerchief.” M. Mason.

Note return to page 1130 5It was a handkerchief, &c.] Othello tells his wife, Act III. Sc. IV.: “&lblank; that handkerchief “Did an Egyptian to my mother give.” And here he says: “It was a handkerchief &lblank;, “My father gave my mother.” This last passage has been censured as an oversight in the poet; but perhaps it exhibits only a fresh proof of his art. The first account of the handkerchief, as given by Othello, was purposely ostentatious, in order to alarm his wife the more. When he mentions it a second time, the truth was sufficient for his purpose. This circumstance of the handkerchief is perhaps ridiculed by Ben Jonson, in his Poetaster: “&lblank; you shall see me do the Moor; master, lend me your scarf.” Steevens. I question whether Othello was written early enough to be ridiculed by The Poetaster. There were many other Moors on the stage. It is certain, at least, that the passage: “Our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.” could not be inserted before the middle of the year 1611. Farmer. If the allusion in The Poetaster (which was printed in 1601,) were to Othello, it would fix its date much earlier than I conceive it to have been written.—But the allusion in the passage quoted, is not to Othello, but to an old play called The Battle of Alcazar, 1594.—In The Poetaster, Pyrgus, who says, “you shall see me do the Moor,” proceeds in the same scene, and repeats an absurd speech of the Moor's in The Battle of Alcazar, beginning with this line: “Where art thou, boy? where is Calipolis?” which ascertains the allusion to be to that play. Malone.

Note return to page 1131 6No, I will speak as liberal as the air;] The folio reads: “I'll be in speaking liberal as the north.” Liberal is free, under no control. So, in Hamlet: “Which liberal shepherds give a grosser name.” This quality of the North wind is also mentioned in The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “And let th' irregular North wind sweep her up.” Again, in Jeronimo, i. e. the first part of The Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “Now let your bloods be liberal as the sea.” Steevens. “No, I will speak as liberal as the air.” The quarto 1622 reads: “I'll be in speaking liberal as the air.” The text is formed out of the two copies. Malone.

Note return to page 1132 7Are there no stones in heaven, But what serve for the thunder?] Othello does not demand a thunderbolt for Iago. He only asks, if there are no lesser degrees of chastisement more proportioned to the guilt of mortals, ready to drop down on such villains as Iago, though Omnipotence withholds its thunder, as too noble an instrument for the punishment of crimes like his? The same thought occurs in The Revenger's Tragedy, 1609: “Is there no thunder left? or is't kept up “In stock, for heavier vengeance?” Shakspeare might, however, mean, does heaven reserve its thunder only to make a noise? has it no implements of mischief to punish as well as terrify? &lblank; quum fulmina torques, Necquicquam horremus? cæcique in nubibus ignes Terrificant animos, et inania murmura miscent?” Steevens. Steevens's last explanation of this passage appears to be just; his first was unnatural. We cannot suppose that Othello in the paroxysm of resentment, agitation, and despair, should think any crimes more heinous than that of Iago.—It is difficult indeed to conceive a crime that demanded a particular vengeance. M. Mason. The meaning, I think, is,—Has not heaven one supernumerary bolt, to hurl directly at the head of this atrocious villain? Must all the stores of its arsenal be reserved for common and ordinary thunder, which, though sometimes destructive, is in the usual course of nature not specifically pointed at a particular object? &lblank; Magne regnator deûm, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? Ecquando sævâ fulmen emittes manu, Si nunc serenum est?— Cur dextra, divûm rector atque hominum, vacat Tua, nec trisulcâ mundus ardescit face? In hunc tones, hunc figas?” Malone.

Note return to page 1133 8&lblank; I will play the swan, And die in musick; &c,] This, and the two former lines of the speech, are wanting in the first quarto. The same thought has already occurred in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; he makes a swan-like end, “Fading in musick &lblank;:” Again, in King John: “&lblank; this pale faint swan, “Who chants a woful hymn to his own death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1134 9&lblank; the ice-brook's temper;] In the first edition it is—Ise-brooke's temper. Thence corrupted to Ice-brook's. Ebro's temper: the waters of that river of Spain are particularly famous for tempering of steel. The finest arms in the world, the Catalonian fusees. Pope. I believe the old reading changed to ice-brook is right. Steel is hardened by being put red-hot into very cold water. Johnson. The particular name of the ice-brook may be determined by the following passages in Martial. It was undoubtedly the brook or rivulet called Salo (now Xalon), near Bilbilis in Celtiberia. In this the Spaniards plunged all their swords and other weapons while hot from the forge; and to the icy quality of the waters, they were indebted for their stubborn temper: Sævo Bilbilin optimam metallo Et ferro Plateam suo sonantem, Quam fluctu tenui sed inquieto Armorum Salo temperator ambit. Again: Quibus remissum corpus astringes brevi Salone qui ferrum gelat. Again: Pugio, quem curvis signat brevis orbita venis, Stridentem gelidis hunc Salo tinxit aquis. Again, in Justin, l. 44: Præcipua his quidem ferri materia sed aqua ipsa ferro violentior; quippe temperamento ejus ferrum acrius redditur; nec ullum apud eos telum probatur quod non aut in Bilbili fluvio aut Chalybe tingatur. Unde etiam Chalybes fluvii hujus finitimi appellati, ferroque cæteris præstare dicuntur. These parts of Spain have been at all times famous for the temper of their arms. Steevens. I incline to read: “It is a sword of Spain, 'tis ebroes temper.” If we suppose that the words ['tis ebroes] were huddled together either in transcribing or composing, thus, ['tisebroes] the compositor in running it over with his eye, might (to make it sense as he thought) add a couple of letters and divide the words thus [th'isebrokes] which is nearly as it stands in the old quarto. I doubt whether ice-brooks are usual in the climate of Spain. Blackstone. “&lblank; the ice-brook's temper.” The quarto 1622 has—Ise-brookes, which is only the old spelling of Ice-brooke's, the reading of the folio. Sir William Blackstone doubts whether ice-brooks are usual in the climate of Spain. How that fact may be, I know not; and I am confident Shakspeare did not inquire. Malone.

Note return to page 1135 1A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh:] So, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 1634: “&lblank; On his thigh a sword “Hung by a curious baldricke, when he frowns, “To seal his will by; better, on my conscience, “Never was soldier's friend.” Malone.

Note return to page 1136 2I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop:] So, in Coriolanus, Sc. I.: “&lblank; cracking ten thousand curbs “Of more strong link asunder, than can ever “Appear in your impediment.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1137 3&lblank; though you do see me weapon'd;] This uncommon participle is used by Sidney in his Arcadia. Malone.

Note return to page 1138 4&lblank; O ill-starr'd wench!] This, and the six preceding lines, are omitted in the first quarto. Wench originally signified only a young woman. Cassandra, in Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578, says of herself: “O wretched wench, where may I first complayne?” Again: “Therefore, sweet wenche, helpe me to rue my woe.” The word is used without any dishonourable meaning in the Bible: “Now Jonathan and Ahimaaz stayed by En-rogel; (for they might not be seen to come into the city:) and a wench went and told them; and they went and told king David.” 2 Sam. xvii. 17. And again, by Gawin Douglas, in his version of the Æneid: &lblank; audetque viris concurrere virgo. This wensche stoutlye rencounter durst with men. Steevens.

Note return to page 1139 5&lblank; towards his feet;] To see if, according to the common opinion, his feet be cloven. Johnson.

Note return to page 1140 6For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.] The same thought has already occurred in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; 'Tis well thou'rt gone,— “If it be well to live.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1141 7&lblank; in the practice &lblank;] In the snare, by the stratagem. Johnson.

Note return to page 1142 8Dear general, I never gave you cause.] Our poet, probably without knowing it, has used the words of The Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “Hieronymo, I never gave thee cause?” This phrase, a very familiar one, is also employed in p. 407, 1. 10: “Alas, the day, I never gave him cause.” Malone.

Note return to page 1143 9Oth. O villain! Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross!] Read, for the sake of both sense and metre: “Oth. O villainy! “Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross.” Ritson.

Note return to page 1144 1&lblank; in the interim &lblank;] The first copy has—in the nick. It was, I suppose, thought upon revisal, that nick was too familiar. Johnson.

Note return to page 1145 2&lblank; confess'd, but even now,] The quarto 1622 reads—confess'd it even now. The folio—confess'd it, but even now. The word it was manifestly caught by the compositor's eye glancing on the subsequent line. Malone.

Note return to page 1146 3Speak of me as I am;] The first quarto reads,—Speak of them as they are. The present reading, which is the reading of the folio, has more force. Johnson.

Note return to page 1147 5&lblank; of one, whose hand, Like the base Júdean, threw a pearl away, Richer than all his tribe;] I have restored Judian, from the elder quarto, as the genuine and more eligible reading. Mr. Pope thinks this was occasioned probably by the word tribe just after: I have many reasons to oppose this opinion. In the first place, the most ignorant Indian, I believe, is so far the reverse of the dunghill-cock in the fable, as to know the estimation of a pearl beyond that of a barley-corn. So that, in that respect, the thought itself would not be just. Then, if our author had designed to reflect on the ignorance of the Indian without any farther reproach, he would have called him rude, and not base. Again, I am persuaded, as my friend Mr. Warburton long ago observed, the phrase is not here literal, but metaphorical; and by his pearl, our author very properly means a fine woman. But Mr. Pope objects farther to the reading Judian, because, to make sense of this, we must pre-suppose some particular story of a Jew alluded to: which is much less obvious: but has Shakspeare never done this, but in this single instance? I am satisfied, in his Judian, he is alluding to Herod; who, in a fit of blind jealousy, threw away such a jewel of a wife as Mariamne was to him. What can be more parallel in circumstance, than the conduct of Herod and Othello? Nor was the story so little obvious as Mr. Pope seems to imagine: for in the year 1613, the Lady Elizabeth Carew published a tragedy called Mariam, the Fair Queen of Jewry. I shall only add, that our author might write Judian or Judean, (if that should be alledged as any objection,) instead of Judæan, with the same licence and change of accent, as, in his Antony and Cleopatra, he shortens the second syllable of Euphrates in pronunciation: which was a liberty likewise taken by Spenser, of whom our author was a studious imitator. Theobald. “Like the base Júdean.” Thus the folio. The first quarto, 1622, reads—Indian. Mr. Theobald therefore is not accurate in the preceding note, in his account of the old copies. Malone. The elder quarto reads Judian, and this is certainly right. And by the Judian is meant Herod, whose usage to Mariamne is so apposite to the speaker's case, that a more proper instance could not be thought of. Besides, he was the subject of a tragedy at that time, as appears from the words in Hamlet, where an ill player is described— “&lblank; to out-herod Herod.” The metaphorical term of a pearl for a fine woman, is so common as scarce to need examples. In Troilus and Cressida, a lover says of his mistress— “There she lies a pearl &lblank;.” And again: “Why she is a pearl, whose price,” &c. Warburton. I cannot join with the learned criticks in conceiving this passage to refer either to the ignorance of the natives of India, in respect of pearls, or the well-known story of Herod and Mariamne. The poet might just as fairly be supposed to have alluded to that of Jephthah and his daughter. Othello, in detestation of what he had done, seems to compare himself to another person who had thrown away a thing of value, with some circumstances of the meanest villainy, which the epithet base seems to imply in its general sense, though it is sometimes used only for low or mean. The Indian could not properly be termed base in the former and most common sense, whose fault was ignorance, which brings its own excuse with it; and the crime of Herod surely deserves a more aggravated distinction. For though in every crime, great as well as small, there is a degree of baseness, yet the furiis agitatus amor, such as contributed to that of Herod, seems to ask a stronger word to characterize it; as there was spirit at least in what he did, though the spirit of a fiend, and the epithet base would better suit with petty larceny than royal guilt. Besides, the simile appears to me too apposite almost to be used on the occasion, and is little more than bringing the fact into comparison with itself. Each through jealousy had destroyed an innocent wife, circumstances so parallel, as hardly to admit of that variety which we generally find in one allusion, which is meant to illustrate another, and at the same time to appear as more than a superfluous ornament. Of a like kind of imperfection, there is an instance in Virgil, book xi. where, after Camilla and her attendants have been described as absolute Amazons,— At medias inter cædes exultat Amazon, Unum exerta latus pugnæ pharetata Camilla.— Et circum lectæ comites, &c. we find them, nine lines after, compared to the Amazons themselves, to Hippolita or Penthiselea, surrounded by their companions: Quales Threiciæ, cum flumina Thermodontis Pulsant, et pictis bellantur Amazones armis: Seu circum Hippolyten, seu cum se martia curru Penthesilea refert. What is this but bringing a fact into comparison with itself? Neither do I believe the poet intended to make the present simile coincide with all the circumstances of Othello's situation, but merely with the single act of having basely (as he himself terms it) destroyed that on which he ought to have set a greater value. As the pearl may bear a literal as well as a metaphorical sense, I would rather choose to take it in the literal one, and receive Mr. Pope's rejected explanation, pre-supposing some story of a Jew alluded to, which might be well understood at that time, though now perhaps forgotten, or at least imperfectly remembered. I have read in some book, as ancient as the time of Shakspeare, the following tale; though, at present, I am unable either to recollect the title of the piece, or the author's name: “A Jew, who had been prisoner for many years in distant parts, brought with him at his return to Venice a great number of pearls, which he offered on the 'change among the merchants, and (one alone excepted) disposed of them to his satisfaction. On this pearl, which was the largest ever shown at market, he had fixed an immoderate price, nor could be persuaded to make the least abatement. Many of the magnificoes, as well as traders, offered him considerable sums for it, but he was resolute in his first demand. At last, after repeated and unsuccessful applications to individuals, he assembled the merchants of the city, by proclamation, to meet him on the Rialto, where he once more exposed it to sale on the former terms, but to no purpose. After having expatiated, for the last time, on the singular beauty and value of it, he threw it suddenly into the sea before them all.” Though this anecdote may appear inconsistent with the avarice of a Jew, yet it sufficiently agrees with the spirit so remarkable at all times in the scattered remains of that vindictive nation. Shakspeare's seeming aversion to the Jews in general, and his constant desire to expose their avarice and baseness as often as he had an opportunity, may serve to strengthen my supposition; and as that nation, in his time, and since, has not been famous for crimes daring and conspicuous, but has rather contented itself to thrive by the meaner and more successful arts of baseness, there seems to be a particular propriety in the epithet. When Falstaff is justifying himself in King Henry IV. he adds, “If what I have said be not true, I am a Jew, an Ebrew Jew,” i. e. one of the most suspected characters of the time. The liver of a Jew is an ingredient in the cauldron of Macbeth; and the vigilance for gain, which is described in Shylock, may afford us reason to suppose the poet was alluding to a story like that already quoted. Richer than all his tribe, seems to point out the Jew again in a mercantile light; and may mean, that “the pearl was richer than all the gems to be found among a set of men generally trading in them.” Neither do I recollect that Othello mentions many things, but what he might fairly have been allowed to have had knowledge of in the course of his peregrinations. Of this kind are the similes of the Euxine sea flowing into the Propontick, and the Arabian trees dropping their gums. The rest of his speeches are more free from mythological and historical allusions, than almost any to be found in Shakspeare, for he is never quite clear from them; though in the design of this character he seems to have meant it for one who had spent a greater part of his life in the field, than in the cultivation of any other knowledge than what would be of use to him in his military capacity. It should be observed, that most of the flourishes merely ornamental were added after the first edition; and this is not the only proof to be met with, that the poet in his alterations sometimes forgot his original plan. The metaphorical term of a pearl for a fine woman, may, for aught I know, be very common; but in the instances Dr. Warburton has brought to prove it so, there are found circumstances that immediately show a woman to have been meant. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “Her bed is India, there she lies a pearl. “Why she is a pearl whose price hath launch'd,” &c. In Othello's speech we find no such leading expression; and are therefore at liberty, I think, to take the passage in its literal meaning. Either we are partial to discoveries which we make for ourselves, or the spirit of controversy is contagious; for it usually happens that each possessor of an ancient copy of our author, is led to assert the superiority of all such readings as have not been exhibited in the notes, or received into the text of the last edition. On this account, our present republication (and more especially in the celebrated plays) affords a greater number of these diversities than were ever before obtruded on the publick. A time however may arrive, when a complete body of variations being printed, our readers may luxuriate in an ample feast of thats and whiches; and thenceforward it may be prophesied, that all will unite in a wish that the selection had been made by an editor, rather than submitted to their own labour and sagacity. To this note should be subjoined (as an apology for many others which may not be thought to bring a conviction with them) that the true sense of a passage has frequently remained undetermined, till repeated experiments have been tried on it; when one commentator, making a proper use of the errors of another, has at last explained it to universal satisfaction. When mistakes have such effects, who would regret having been mistaken, or be sorry to prove the means of directing others, by that affinity which a wrong reading or interpretation sometimes has to the right, though he has not been so lucky as to produce at once authorities which could not be questioned, or decisions to which nothing could be added? Steevens. I abide by the old text, “the base Judian.” Shakspeare seems to allude to Herod in the play of Mariamne: “I had but one inestimable jewel &lblank; “Yet I in suddaine choler cast it downe, “And dasht it all to pieces.” Farmer. The words quoted by Dr. Warburton from Hamlet do not prove what they are adduced for. The Herod there alluded to, was a character in one of the ancient Mysteries. [See Candlemasday, or the Killing of the Children of Israel, a Mystery, in Hawkins's Origin of the English Drama, vol. i.] I once thought that the accent here given to Júdean was a strong objection to this reading; and that the word must have been Judéan or Judæan, (as a derivative from Judæ) which would not suit the metre. But the objection was founded on a mistake; for derivative words of this kind were thus accented in Shakspeare's time. Thus, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, we have in the old copies, “an Epicurian rascal,” which ascertains the pronunciation of that word to have been different formerly from what it is now. The word is thus spelt by North also, in his translation of Plutarch. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Keep his brains fuming, Epicurean cooks.” Those who would adopt the original reading, Indian, may urge in its support that the pearl naturally brings a people of the East to Shakspeare's mind; the connexion in his time being considered so strong, that a contemporary author has distinguished the inhabitants of India by an epithet founded on the circumstance of their abounding in pearls: “&lblank; where the bright sun with his neighbour beams “Doth early light the pearled Indians.” Cornelia, a tragedy, by T. Kyd, 1594. On the other hand, the word tribe is strongly in favour of the reading of the text, and I have now no doubt that it is the true one. Webster, in his Appius and Virginia, appears to have had this passage in his thoughts: “&lblank; Had your lordship yesterday “Proceeded as 'twas fit, to a just sentence, “The apparel and the jewels that she wore, “More worth than all her tribe, had then been due “Unto our client.” Malone. I would read, with the quarto, Indian. The word tribe is not, as Mr. Malone seemed to suppose, peculiarly applicable to the Jews. It meant in Shakspeare's time, as we learn from Cockeram, a kindred, and it is constantly used at this day in speaking of the Indians. The Jews are not in general described as willing to throw away what is valuable; and it is not likely that Shakspeare would allude to an anecdote of a single individual, of which perhaps none of his auditors had ever heard; but in our author's time when voyages of discovery to America were common, each putter out of five for one was probably stimulated by a description of the riches he might find there, and of the facility with which the Indians base, on account of their ignorance, would part with them. I will only add that two succeeding poets have given the Indians the same character: “So the unskilfull Indian those bright gems “Which might adde majestie to diadems “'Mong the waves scatters &lblank;.” Habington's Castara—To Castara weeping. So, also, in The Woman's Conquest, by Sir Edward Howard: “&lblank; Behold my queen &lblank; “Who with no more concern I'le cast away “Then Indians do a pearl that ne're did know “Its value &lblank;.” Boswell.

Note return to page 1148 6&lblank; whose subdu'd eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood,] So, in our poet's 30th Sonnet: “Then can I drown an eye unus'd to flow.” Malone.

Note return to page 1149 *First folio, medicinable.

Note return to page 1150 7Their medicínal gum:] Thus the quarto 1622. This word is also used by our author in The Winter's Tale; and occurs in the works of two of our greatest poets—Milton and Dryden. Steevens.

Note return to page 1151 8Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk &lblank;] I am told that it is immediate death for a Christian to strike a Turk in Aleppo. Othello is boasting of his own audacity. Steevens.

Note return to page 1152 9Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.] So, in The Second Part of Marlowe's Tamburlaine, 1590: “Yet let me kiss my lord before I dye, “And let me dye with kissing of my lord.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1153 1O Spartan dog,] The dogs of Spartan race were reckoned among those of the most fierce and savage kind. Hanmer. They are again mentioned in A Midsummer-Night's Dream: “When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear “With hounds of Sparta.” Henley.

Note return to page 1154 2&lblank; To you, lord governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain;] Rymer, who had neither vigour of imagination to make a poet, nor strength of judgement to make a critick, as appears from his Edgar, and his Remarks on Shakspeare, had yet just enough to play the buffoon and caviller. His criticism on the Poets of the last Age, with only a mixture of trite remarks, transcribed from the French commentators on Aristotle, are one continued heap of ignorance and insolence. Almost the only remark on Shakspeare, which, I think, deserves an answer, is upon Iago's character, which he thus censures: “To entertain the audience (says he) with something new and surprising, against common sense and nature, he would pass upon us a close, dissembling, false, ungrateful rascal, instead of an open-hearted, frank, plain-dealing soldier, a character constantly worn by them for some thousand of years in the world.” This hath the appearance of sense, being founded on that rule of Nature and Aristotle, that each character should have manners convenient to the age, sex, and condition. Ætatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores, &c. says Horace. But how has our critick applied it? According to this rule it is confessed, that a soldier should be brave, generous, and a man of honour. This is to be his dramatick character. But either one or more of any order may be brought in. If only one, then the character of the order takes its denomination from the manners of that one. Had therefore the only soldier in this play been Iago, the rule had been transgressed, and Rymer's censure well founded. For then this eternal villain must have given the character of the soldiery; which had been unjust and unnatural. But if a number of the same order be represented, then the character of the order is taken from the manners of the majority; and this according to nature and common sense. Now in this play there are many of the order of the soldiery; and all, excepting Iago, represented as open, generous, and brave. From these the soldier's character is to be taken; and not from Iago, who is brought as an exception to it: unless it be unnatural to suppose there could be an exception; or that a villain ever insinuated himself into that corps. And thus Shakspeare stands clear of this impertinent criticism. Warburton. “&lblank; the censure &lblank;” i. e. the sentence. See vol. iv. p. 19, n. 7. Steevens. See also vol. xiv. p. 277, n. 2. Malone.

Note return to page 1155 3The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon the attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from critical illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge; the cool malignity of Iago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once of his interest and his vengeance; the soft simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her artless perseverance on her suit, and her slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, are such proofs of Shakspeare's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. The gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to enflame him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps not be said of him as he says of himself, that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but pity him, when at last we find him perplexed in the extreme. There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities, should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation; but the character of Iago is so conducted, that he is from the first scene to the last hated and despised. Even the inferior characters of this play would be very conspicuous in any other piece, not only for their justness, but their strength. Cassio is brave, benevolent, and honest, ruined only by his want of stubbornness to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised upon him, and which by persuasion he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong picture of a weak mind betrayed by unlawful desires to a false friend; and the virtue of Emilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but not cast off, easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at atrocious villanies. The scenes from the beginning to the end are busy, varied by happy interchanges, and regularly promoting the progression of the story; and the narrative in the end, though it tells but what is known already, yet is necessary to produce the death of Othello. Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a drama of the most exact and scrupulous regularity. Johnson. To Dr. Johnson's admirable and nicely discriminative character of Othello, it may seem unnecessary to make any addition; yet I cannot forbear to conclude our commentaries on this transcendent poet with the fine eulogy which the judicious and learned Lowth has pronounced on him, with a particular reference to this tragedy, perhaps the most perfect of all his works: “In his viris [tragediæ Græcæ scilicet scriptoribus] accessio quædam Philosophiæ erat Poetica facultas: neque sane quisquam adhuc Poesin ad fastigium suum ac culmen evexit, nisi qui prius in intima Philosophia artis suæ fundamenta jecerit. “Quod si quis objiciat, nonnullos in hoc ipso poeseos genere excelluisse, qui nunquam habiti sunt Philosophi, ac ne literis quidem præter cæteros imbuti; sciat is, me rem ipsam quærere, non de vulgari opinione, aut de verbo laborare: qui autem tantum ingenio consecutus est, ut naturas hominum, vimque omnem humanitatis, causasque eas, quibus aut incitatur mentis impetus aut retunditur, penitus perspectas habeat, ejusque omnes motus oratione non modo explicet, sed effingat, planeque oculis subjiciat; sed excitet, regat, commoveat, moderetur; eum, etsi disciplinarum instrumento minus adjutum, eximie tamen esse Philosophum arbitrari. Quo in genere affectum Zelotypiæ, ejusque causas, adjuncta, progressiones, effectus, in una Shakspeari nostri fabula, copiosius, subtilius, accuratius etiam veriusque pertractari existimo, quam ab omnibus omnium Philosophorum scholis in simili argumento est unquam disputatum.” [Prælectio prima. edit. 1763, p. 8.] Malone. If by “the most perfect” is meant the most regular of the foregoing plays, I subscribe to Mr. Malone's opinion; but if his words were designed to convey a more exalted praise, without a moment's hesitation I should transfer it to Macbeth. It is true, that the domestick tragedy of Othello affords room for a various and forcible display of character. The less familiar groundwork of Macbeth (as Dr. Johnson has observed) excludes the influence of peculiar dispositions. That exclusion, however, is recompenced by a loftier strain of poetry, and by events of higher rank; by supernatural agency, by the solemnities of incantation, by shades of guilt and horror deepening in their progress, and by visions of futurity solicited in aid of hope, but eventually the ministers of despair. Were it necessary to weigh the pathetick effusions of these dramas against each other, it is generally allowed that the sorrows of Desdemona would be more than counterbalanced by those of Macduff. Yet if our author's rival pieces (the distinct property of their subjects considered) are written with equal force, it must still be admitted that the latter has more of originality. A novel of considerable length (perhaps amplified and embellished by the English translator of it) supplied a regular and circumstantial outline for Othello; while a few slight hints collected from separate narratives of Holinshed, were expanded into the sublime and awful tragedy of Macbeth. Should readers, who are alike conversant with the appropriate excellencies of poetry and painting, pronounce on the reciprocal merits of these great productions, I must suppose they would describe them as of different pedigrees. They would add, that one was of the school of Raphael, the other from that of Michael Angelo; and that if the steady Sophocles and Virgil should have decided in favour of Othello, the remonstrances of the daring Æschylus and Homer would have claimed the laurel for Macbeth. To the sentiments of Dr. Lowth respecting the tragedy of Othello, a general eulogium on the dramatick works of Shakspeare, imputed by a judicious and amiable critick to Milton, may be not improperly subjoined: “There is good reason to suppose (says my late friend the Rev. Thomas Warton, in a note on L'Allegro), that Milton threw many additions and corrections into the Theatrum Poetarum, a book published by his nephew Edward Philips, in 1675. It contains criticisms far above the taste of that period. Among these is the following judgment on Shakspeare, which was not then, I believe, the general opinion.”—“In tragedy, never any expressed a more lofty and tragick height, never any represented nature more purely to the life; and where the polishments of art are most wanting, as probably his learning was not extraordinary, he pleases with a certain wild and native elegance.” P. 194. What greater praise can any poet have received, than that of the author of Paradise Lost? Steevens.

Note return to page 1156 10209001 See p. 262. “&lblank; Of the cannibals that each other eat, “The Anthropophagi; and men whose heads “Do grow beneath their shoulders.”— These lines have been considered by Pope, and others, as the interpolation of the players, or at least vulgar trash, which Shakspeare admitted merely to humour the lower part of his audience. But the case was probably the very reverse, and the poet rather meant to recommend his play to the more curious and refined among his auditors, by alluding here to some of the most extraordinary passages in Sir Walter Raleigh's celebrated voyage to Guiana, performed in 1595: in which nothing excited more universal attention, than the accounts which he brought from the new world of the cannibals, Amazons, and especially of the nation, “&lblank; whose heads “Do grow beneath their shoulders.” Her his own solemn relation: “Next unto the Arvi” [a river, which he says falls into the Orenoque or Oronoko] “are two rivers, Atoica and Caora; and on that branch, which is called Caora, are a nation of people, whose heads appear not above their shoulders; which though it may be thought a meere fable, yet for mine own part I am resolved it is true, because every childe in the province of Arromaia and Canuri affirme the same: they are called Ewaipanoma; they are reported to have their eyes in their shoulders, and their mouthes in the middle of their breasts, and that a long traine of haire groweth backward betweene their shoulders,” &c. [See Sir Walter Raleigh's Narrative of the Discoverie of Guiana, printed in Hackluyt's Voyages, vol. iii. Lond. 1600, folio, p. 652, 653, 665, 677, &c.] As for the Anthropophagi, or canibals, “that each other eat,” the same celebrated voyager tells us: At “one of the outlets of Orenoque, we left on the right hand of us, a nation of inhumaine canibals,” [p. 659.] And in the second Voyage to Guiana, in 1596, published also by Sir Walter, one of the nations, called Ipaios, are thus described: “They are but few, but very cruel to their enemies; for they bind, and eat them alive peecemeale. —These Indians, because they eate them whom they kill, use no poyson.” [Ibid. p. 688. See also p. 507, 516, 682, &c.] These extraordinary reports were universally credited, and therefore Othello assumes here no other character but what was very common among the celebrated commanders of his time— that of an adventurer and voyager into the East or West-Indies. As for Sir Walter Raleigh's strange discoveries, a short extract of the more wonderful passages was published in several languages, accompanied with a map of Guiana, by Iodocus Hondius, a Dutch geographer, and adorned with copper-plates, representing these Amazons, canibals, and headless people, &c. in different points of view. The drawing below is copied from the frontispiece to one of these pamphlets, intitled, “Brevis et admiranda Descriptio Regni Guianæ, &c. . . . . . Quod nuper admodum annis nimirum, 1564, 1595, et 1596, per. . . . Dn. Gualtherum Raleigh Equitem Anglum detectum est. . . . . . Ex quibus Iodocus Hondius tabulam geographicam adornavit, addita explicatione Belgico Sermone scripta: Nunc vero in Latinum Sermonem translata,” &c. Noribergæ, 1599. 4to. P.

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