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 1The story is taken from Cinthio's Novels, Decad. 8. Novel 5. Pope.

Note return to page 3 2There is perhaps not one of Shakespeare's plays more darkened than this by the peculiarities of its authour, and the unskilfulness of its editors, by distortions of phrase, or negligence of transcription. Johnson. Shakespeare took the fable of this play from the Promos and Cassandra of George Whetstone, published in 1578. See Theobald's note at the end. A hint, like a seed, is more or less prolific, according to the qualities of the soil on which it is thrown. This story, which in the hands of Whetstone produced little more than barren insipidity, under the culture of Shakespeare became fertile of entertainment. The curious reader will find that the old play of Promos and Cassandra exhibits an almost complete embryo of Measure for Measure; yet the hints on which it is formed are so slight, that it is nearly as impossible to detect them, as it is to point out in the acorn the future ramifications of the oak. Whetstone opens his play thus. “Act. I. Scena I. “Promos, Mayor, Shirife, Sworde bearer: one with a bunche of keyes: Phallax, Promos Man. “You Officers which now in Julio staye “Know you your leadge, the King of Hungarie: “Sent me Promos, to joyne with you in sway: “That styll we may to Justice have an eye. “And now to show, my rule and power at lardge, “Attentivelie, his letters pattents heare: “Phallax, reade out my Soveraines chardge. “Phal. As you commaunde, I wyll: give heedeful care. Phallax readeth the Kinges Letters Patents, which must be fayre written in parchment, with some great counterfeat zeale. “Pro. Loe, here you see what is our Soveraignes wyl “Loe, heare his wish, that right, not might, beare swaye: “Loe, heare his care, to weede from good the yll, “To scoorge the wights, good lawes that disobay. “Such zeale he beares, unto the common weale, “(How so he byds, the ignoraunt to save) “As he commaundes, the lewde doo rigor feele, &c. &c. &c. “Pro. Both swoorde and keies, unto my princes use, “I doo receyve and gladlie take my chardge. “It resteth nowe for to reforme abuse, “We poynt a tyme, of councell more at lardge, “To treate of which, a whyle we wyll depart. “Al. speake. To worke your wyll, we yeelde a wylling hart. Exeunt.” The reader will find the argument of G. Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, at the end of this play. It is too bulky to be inserted here. See likewise the Piece itself among Six old Plays on which Shakespeare founded, &c. published by S. Leacroft, Charing-cross. Steevens.

Note return to page 4 3Since I am not to know, &lblank;] Old copy, &lblank; put to know, &lblank; Perhaps rightly. Johnson. I am put to know, may mean, I am obliged to acknowledge. So in King Henry VI. p. 2. 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 5 4&lblank; lists &lblank;] Bounds limits. Johnson. So in Othello. “Confine yourself within a patient list.” Steevens.

Note return to page 6 5&lblank; Then no more remains, &c.] This is a passage which has exercised the sagacity of the editors, and is now to employ mine. &lblank; Then no more remains, Put that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them work. I doubt not, but this passage, either from the impertinence of the actors, or the negligence of the copyists, has come maimed to us. In the first place, what an unmeasurable, inharmonious verse have we here; and then, how lame is the sense! What was Escalus to put to his sufficiency? Why his science. But his science and his sufficiency were but one and the same thing. On what then does the relative them depend? The old editions read thus: &lblank; Then no more remains, But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them work. Here again, the sense is manifestly lame and defective, and as the versification is so too, they concur to make me think, a line has accidentally been left out. Perhaps, something like this might supply our author's meaning: &lblank; Then no more remains, But that to your sufficiency you add Due diligency, as your worth is able, And let them work. By some such supplement both the sense and measure would be cured. But as the conjecture is unsupported by any authorities, I have not pretended to thrust it into the text; but submit it to judgment. They, who are acquainted with books, know, that, where two words of a similar length and termination happen to lie under one another, nothing is more common than for transcribers to glance their eye at once from the first to the undermost word, and so leave out the intermediate part of the sentence. Theobald. Since I am not to know, that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you: then no more remains: Put 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 dropp'd, which he attempts to restore by due diligency. 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 Tho. 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 Shakespeare. 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, 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. The uncommon redundancy, as well as obscurity, of this verse may be considered as some evidence of its corruption. Take away the two first words, and the sense joins well enough with what went before. Then (says the duke) no more remains to say: 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. &lblank; Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 7 6&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 Duke meant to say, that Escalus was pregnant, that is, ready and knowing in all the forms of 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 “'Tis very cleare—the place is very pregnant.” i. e. very expressive, ready, or very big with meaning. Again, “&lblank; the Proof is most pregnant.” Again, The Cruel Brother by Sir W. Davenant, 1630. “&lblank; my abilities are most pregnant “When I find I may be profitable.” Again, “&lblank; oh, such a pregnant eye!” Steevens.

Note return to page 8 7For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply;] This nonsense must be corrected thus, &lblank; with special roll i. e. with a special commission. For it appears, from this scene, that Escalus had one commission, and Angelo another. The Duke had before delivered Escalus his commission. He now declares that designed for Angelo; and he says, afterwards, to both, To the hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions. Why Angelo's was called the special roll was, because he was in authority superior to Escalus. &lblank; old Escalus, Though first in question, is thy secondary. Warburton. This editor is, I think, right in supposing a corruption, but less happy in his emendation. I read, &lblank; we have with special seal Elected him our absence to supply. A special seal is a very natural metonomy for a special commission. Johnson. 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. We have with special soul. 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—” Malone.

Note return to page 9 8There 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 Shakespeare 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. Shakespeare must, I believe, be answerable for the unnecessary pomp of this introduction. He has the same thought in Henry IV. p. 2. which is 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.

Note return to page 10 9&lblank; are 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.

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

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

Note return to page 14 4&lblank; nor nature never lends.] 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; I do bend my speech, To one that can my part in him advertise;] 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 advertise; i. e. who knows what appertains to the character of 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 Shakespeare'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 advertise. A better expression indeed, but, for all that, none of Shakespeare's. Warburton. I know not whether we may not better read, One that can my part to him advertise, 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 this accentuation, by Chapman, in his translation of the 11th book of the Odyssey. “Or, of my father, if thy royal ear “Hath been advertis'd &lblank;.” Steevens.

Note return to page 16 6Hold 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 17 7&lblank; first in question, &lblank;] That is, first called for; first appointed. Johnson.

Note return to page 18 8We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice] Leaven'd has no sense in this place: we should read, &lblank; levell'd choice. The allusion is to archery, when a man has fixed upon his object, after taking good aim. Warburton. No emendation is necessary. Leaven'd choice is one of Shakespeare'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. Johnson.

Note return to page 19 9&lblank; your scope is as mine own.] That is, Your amplitude of power. Johnson.

Note return to page 20 1&lblank; in metre?] In the primers, there are metrical graces, such as, I suppose, were used in Shakespeare's time. Johnson.

Note return to page 21 2In any proportion, &c.] The Oxford editor gives us a dialogue of his own instead of this: and all for want of knowing the meaning of the word proportion, which signifies measure: and refers to the question, What? in metre? Warburton.

Note return to page 22 3despight 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 Shakespeare'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 23 4there 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 Malecontent, 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 24 5pil'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 Shakespeare'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 VIII. “Pill'd priest thou liest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 25 6To three thousand dollars a year.] A quibble intended between dollars and dolours. Hanmer. The same jest occurred before in the Tempest. Johnson.

Note return to page 26 7A 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 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 27 8what with the sweat,] This may allude to the sweating sickness, of which the memory was very fresh in the time of Shakespeare: 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 28 9Enter Clown.] As this is the first clown who makes his appearance in the plays of our author, it may not be amiss, from a passage in Tarlton's News out of Purgatory, to point out one of the ancient dresses appropriated to the character. “&lblank; I sawe one attired in russet, with a button'd cap on his head, a great bag by his side, and a strong bat in his hand; so artificially attired for a clowne, as I began to call Tarlton's woonted shape to remembrance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 29 1&lblank; What has he done? Clown. 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 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 Shakespeare has appropriated to his bawd. Collins.

Note return to page 30 2&lblank; 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 buires (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.” Again: “&lblank; how liv'd you in the suburbs And scap'd so many searches?” See Martial, where summæniana and suburbana are applied to prostitutes. Steevens. All houses in the suburbs.] 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 31 3Thus 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 wrong pointing of the second line hath made the passage unintelligible. There ought to be a full stop at weight. And 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 &lblank; 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, of Eton; and it may be countenanced by the following passage in the Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “&lblank; In brief they are the swords of heaven to punish.” Sir W. Davenant, who incorporated this play of Shakespeare 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.

Note return to page 32 4Like rats that ravin, &c.] Ravine 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 33 5&lblank; when we drink we die. So in Revenge for Honour, by Chapman:   “&lblank; like poison'd rats, which when they've swallow'd “The pleasing bane, rest not until they drink, “And can rest then much less, until they burst.” Steevens.

Note return to page 34 6I 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, tho' 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.

Note return to page 35 7&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.

Note return to page 36 8&lblank; like unscour'd armour.] So in Troilus and Cressida: “Like rusty mail in monumental mockery.” Steevens.

Note return to page 37 9So long that nineteen zodiacks have gone round,] The duke in the scene immediately following says, Which for these fourteen years we have let slip. The author could not so disagree with himself. 'Tis necessary to make the two accounts correspond. Theobald.

Note return to page 38 1so tickle.] 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.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1610: “Now stands our fortune on a tickle point.” Again, in Byron's Tragedy, 1608: “&lblank; all his sways “And tickle aptness to exceed his bounds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 39 2&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 authour 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 are 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. Davenant, 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 Shakespeare might be supposed to have understood his language more intimately. Steevens.

Note return to page 40 3Under 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 41 4Believe not, that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a compleat bosom: &lblank;] Think not that a breast compleatly armed can be pierced by the dart of love that comes fluttering without force. Johnson.

Note return to page 42 5&lblank; the life remov'd.] i. e. a life of retirement, a life removed from the bustle of the world. Steevens.

Note return to page 43 6A 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 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. Davenant 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, 1598: “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 44 7The needful bits and curbs for head-strong steeds,] In the copies, The needful bits and curbs for head-strong weeds. There is no matter 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 45 8Which for these nineteen years we have let sleep;] In former editions, Which for these fourteen years we have let slip. For fourteen I have made no scruple to replace nineteen. The reason will be obvious to him who recollects what the Duke 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, tho' it hath slept; &lblank; 'Tis now awake. And so, again: &lblank; but this new governor Awakes me all th' enrolled penalties; &lblank; and for a name, Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me. Theobald. I once thought that the words let slip (which is the reading of the old copy, and, I believe right) related to the line immediately preceding—the needful bits and curbs, which we have suffered for so many years to hang loose. But it is clear from a passage in Twelfth Night that these words should be referred to laws, “which for these nineteen years we have suffered to pass unnoticed —unobserved;” for so the same phrase is used by Sir Andrew Aguecheek: “Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse grey Capulet.” Again in Marlow's Doctor Faustus 1631: “Shall I let slip so great an injury.” Again in A Mad World my Masters, by Middleton, 1640: “Well, things must slip and sleep—I will dissemble.” Again, in The Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “My simplicity may make them think “That ignorantly I will let all slip.” Malone.

Note return to page 46 9Becomes more mock'd than fear'd: &lblank;] Becomes was added by Mr. Pope to restore sense to the passage, some such word having been left out. Steevens.

Note return to page 47 1Sith.] i. e. since. Steevens.

Note return to page 48 2To do it slander. &lblank;] The text stood: So do in slander. &lblank; Sir Thomas Hanmer has very well corrected it thus, To do it slander. &lblank; 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 my open acts of severity. Johnson. The old text stood, &lblank; in the fight To do in slander. Hanmer's emendation is in my opinion best. So in Hen. IV. p. 1: “Do me no slander, Douglas, I dare fight.” Steevens. The words in the preceding line—ambush and strike, shew that fight is the true reading. Malone.

Note return to page 49 3&lblank; in person bear,] Mr. Pope reads, &lblank; my person bear. Perhaps a word was dropped at the end of the line, which originally stood thus, How I may formally in person bear me, Like a true friar. So in the Tempest: “&lblank; some good instruction give “How I may bear me here.” Sir W. Davenant reads, in his alteration of the play: I may in person a true friar seem. Steevens.

Note return to page 50 4Stands at a guard &lblank;] Stands on terms of defiance. Johnson.

Note return to page 51 5&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. Benedict talks of becoming—the argument of his own scorn. Sir W. Davenant reads—scorn instead of story. Steevens.

Note return to page 52 6&lblank; 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, &lblank;] 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 perpetually 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: &lblank; 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 Shakespeare 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. Shakespeare has an expression of the like kind, Com. of Errors, act. iv. sc. 3: “Adr. Far from her nest the lapwing cries away, “My heart prays for him, tho' my tongue do curse.” We meet with the same thought in John Lilly's comedy, intitled Campaspe (first published in 1591) act ii. sc. 2. from whence Shakespeare might borrow it: “Alex. Not with Timoleon you mean, wherein 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.” Gray.

Note return to page 53 7&lblank; Fewness and truth, &c.] i. e. in few words, and those true ones. In few, is many times thus used by Shakespeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 54 8&lblank; as blossoming time That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foyson; 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. Steevens.

Note return to page 55 9O, let him marry her.] O is an insertion of the modern editors. I cannot relish it. If any word is to be inserted to fill up the metre, I should prefer, Why. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 56 1Bore many gentlemen &lblank; In hand and hope of action; &lblank;] 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.

Note return to page 57 2&lblank; with full line &lblank;] With full extent, with the whole length. Johnson.

Note return to page 58 3&lblank; give fear to use &lblank;] To intimidate use, that is, practices long countenanced by custom. Johnson.

Note return to page 59 4Unless 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 60 5&lblank; pith Of business &lblank;] The inmost part, the main of my message. Johnson.

Note return to page 61 6&lblank; censur'd him, &lblank;] i. e. sentenced him. So in Othello: &lblank; “to you, lord governor, “Remains the censure of this hellish villain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 62 7&lblank; would owe them.] To owe signifies in this place, as in many others, to possess, to have. So in Othello: &lblank; that sweet sleep That thou ow'dst yesterday &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 63 8&lblank; the mother] The abbess, or prioress. Johnson.

Note return to page 64 9Provost.] A provost is generally the executioner of an army. So in the Famous History of Tho. Stukely, 1605: Bl. L. “Provost, lay irons upon him and take him to your charge.” Again, in the Virgin Martyr by Massenger: “Thy provost to see execution done “On these base Christians in Cæsarea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 65 1&lblank; to fear the birds of prey,] To fear is to affright, to terrify. So in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; this aspect of mine “Hath fear'd the valiant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 66 2Than fall, and bruise to death. &lblank;] 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. Shakespeare 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.

Note return to page 67 3Let but your honour know, &lblank;] To know is here to examine, to take cognisance. So in Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; “Know of your truth, examine well your blood.” Johnson.

Note return to page 68 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.

Note return to page 69 5&lblank; '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 70 6For I have had &lblank;] That is, because, by reason that I have had faults. Johnson.

Note return to page 71 7Some 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 true reading, it should be printed: Some run from breaks [i. e. fractures] of ice, &c. Since I wrote 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 de Ambois, by Chapman: “Or, like a strumpet, learn to set my face “In an eternal brake.” Again, in The Opportunity, by Shirley, 1640: “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 meanes of which pain he shewed many things,” &c. “When the dukes of Exeter and Suffolk (says Blackstone in his Comment. vol. IV. chap. xxv. p. 320, 321.) and other ministers of Hen. 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 Tower 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 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. If Shakespeare alluded to this engine, the sense of the contested passage in Measure for Measure 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, Shakespeare 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.

Note return to page 72 8This 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 73 9&lblank; Why 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 observed: 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 74 1&lblank; a tapster, sir; parcel bawd; &lblank;] This we should now express by saying, he is half-tapster, half-bawd. Johnson. Thus in K. Hen. IV: “&lblank; a parcel-gilt goblet. Steevens.

Note return to page 75 2&lblank; she professes a hot-house;] A hot-house is an English name for a baguio: “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.” Ben Jonson. Johnson.

Note return to page 76 3Ay, sir, by mistress Over-done's means: &lblank;] 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 77 4&lblank; stew'd prunes; &lblank;] Stewed prunes were to be found in every brothel. 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 78 5Justice 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.

Note return to page 79 6Hannibal,] Mistaken by the constable for Cannibal. Johnson.

Note return to page 80 7they 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 81 8&lblank; greatest thing about you.] This fashion, of which, perhaps, some remains were to be found in the age of Shakespeare, seems to have prevailed originally in that of Chaucer, who in the Persones Tale speaks of it thus. “Som of hem shewen the bosse and the shape &c. in the wrapping of hir hosen, and eke the buttokkes of hem behinde, &c.” Greene in one of his pieces mentions the great bumme of Paris. Steevens.

Note return to page 82 9I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three pence a bay:] Mr. Theobald found that this was the reading of the old books, and he follows it out of pure reverence for antiquity; for he knows nothing of the meaning of it. He supposes bay to be that projection called a bay-window; as if the way of rating houses was by the number of their bay-windows. But it is quite another thing, and signifies the squared frame of a timber house; each of which divisions, or squares, is called a bay. Hence a building of so many bays. Warburton. A bay of building is, in many parts of England, a common term, of which the best conception that I could ever attain, is, that it is the space between the main beams of the roof; so that a burn 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. Steevens.

Note return to page 83 1Stay yet awhile. &lblank;] It is not clear why the provost is hidden to stay, nor when he goes out. Johnson.

Note return to page 84 2For 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 a manuscript. Yet no alteration is necessary, since the speech is not unintelligible as it now stands. Johnson.

Note return to page 85 3To find the faults.] The old copy reads—To fine, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 86 4&lblank; touch'd with that remorse.] Remorse in this place, as in many others, is pity. So in the 5th 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 87 5&lblank; all the souls that were, &lblank;] This is false divinity. We should read, are. Warburton.

Note return to page 88 6And 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.

Note return to page 89 7If the first man, &c.] The word man has been supplied by the modern editors. I would rather read, If he, the first, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 90 8&lblank; Like a prophet, Looks in a glass &lblank;] This alludes to the fopperies of the berril, much used at that time by cheats and fortune-tellers to predict by. Warburton. See Macbeth, act IV. So again in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “How long have I beheld the devil in chrystal?” Steevens.

Note return to page 91 9Either now &lblank;] Thus the old copy. Modern Editors read &lblank; Or now &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 92 1But ere, they live, to end.] This is very sagaciously substituted by sir Thomas Hanmer, for, But here they live &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 93 2&lblank; shew some pity. Ang. I shew it most of all, when I shew 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 94 3pelting] &lblank; i. e. paltry. This word I meet with in Mother Bombie, 1594: “&lblank; will not shrink the city for a pelting jade.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0169

Note return to page 95 4&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, Chaucer's Knight's Tale, late edit. v. 1979: “With knotty, knarry barrein trees old.” Steevens.

Note return to page 96 5As make the angels weep; &lblank;] The notion of angels weeping for the sins of men is rabbinical.—Ob peccatum flentes angelos inducunt Hebræorum magistri. —Grotius ad Lucam. Warburton.

Note return to page 97 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: which amounts to this, that if they were mortal, they would not be immortal. Shakespeare 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 Shakespeare, 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 98 7We cannot weigh our brother with yourself:] In former editions, We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Why not? Though this should be the reading of all the copies, 'tis as plain as light, it is not the author's meaning. Isabella would say, there is so great a disproportion in quality betwixt lord Angelo and her brother, that their actions can bear no comparison, or equality, together: but her brother's crimes would be aggravated, Angelo's frailties extenuated, from the difference of their degrees and state of life. Warburton. The old reading is right. 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 judgments for the same faults committed by persons of different condition. Johnson.

Note return to page 99 8That my sense breeds with it. &lblank;] Thus all the folios. Some later editor has changed breeds to bleeds, and Dr. Warburton blames poor Mr. 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 W. Davenant's alteration favours the sense of the old reading: &lblank; She speaks such sense As with my reason breeds such images As she has excellently form'd. &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 100 9&lblank; fond shekels] Fond, means very frequently in our author foolish. It signifies in this place valued or prized by folly. Steevens.

Note return to page 101 1&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 cuppell, which is called by the refiners a test. Vide Harris's Lex. Tech. Voce Cuppell. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 102 2&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, 16&wblank;: “You do not reckon us 'mongst marmalade, “Quinces and apricots? or take us for “Ladies preserved?” Steevens.

Note return to page 103 3I 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 prayers. 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! &lblank; 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.

Note return to page 104 4&lblank; it is I, That lying, by the violet, in the sun, &c.] I am not corrupted by her, but by my own heart, which excites soul desires under the same benign influences that exalt her purity, as the carrion grows putrid by those beams which encrease the fragrance of the violet. Johnson.

Note return to page 105 5&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.

Note return to page 106 6And pitch our evils there?] So in K. Henry VIII: “Nor build their evils on the graves of great men.” Neither of these passages appear to contain a very elegant allusion. Steevens.

Note return to page 107 7&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 108 8Who falling in the flaws of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: &lblank;] 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 W. Davenant 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. Shakespeare 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 disfigured her same. 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 109 9&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 110 1Shewing we'd not spare heaven,] The modern editors had changed this word into seek. Steevens.

Note return to page 111 2There rest.] Keep yourself in this temper. Johnson.

Note return to page 112 3&lblank; Oh, 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 authorize 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. “Oh, 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.

Note return to page 113 4Enter 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 114 5Whilst my intention, &lblank;] Nothing can be either plainer or exacter than this expression. 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. It signifies eagerness of desire. So in the Merry Wives: “&lblank; course o'er my exteriors, with such greediness of intention.” By invention, however, I believe the poet means imagination. Steevens.

Note return to page 115 6Grown fear'd and tedious; &lblank;] We should read seared: i. e. old. So Shakespeare 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 116 7&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 117 8&lblank; case, &lblank;] For outside; garb; external shew. Johnson.

Note return to page 118 9Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? &lblank;] Here Shakespeare 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 119 1Let'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; oh form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? &lblank; 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.

Note return to page 120 2&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 121 3The gen'ral subjects to a well-wish'd king,] So the later editions: but the old copies read: The general subject to a well-wish'd king. The general subject seems a harsh expression, but general subjects has no sense at all; and general was, in our authour'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.” Clar. Hist. B. v. p. 530, 8vo. Edit. 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. c. 1. Again, act. I sc. 2: “The lists and full proportions, all are made “Out of his subject.” &lblank; The general subject however may mean the subjects in general. So in As you Like it. act II. sc. 7: “Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.” Steevens. So the duke had before (act I. scene 2.) 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 ave's vehement: “Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, “That does affect it.” &lblank; I cannot help thinking that Shakespeare, in these two passages intended to flatter that unkingly weakness of James the first, which made him so impatient of the crowds that flocked to see him, especially upon his first coming, that, as some of our historians say, he restrained them by a proclamation. Sir Symonds D'Ewes, in his Memoirs of his own Life* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 122 *A manuscript in the British Museum.

Note return to page 123 4&lblank; 'tis all as easy] Easy is here put for light or trifling. 'Tis, says he, as light or trifling a crime to do so, as so, &c. Which the Oxford editor not apprehending, has altered it to just; for 'tis much easier to conceive what Shakespeare should say, than what he does say. So just before, the poet said, with his usual licence, their sawcy sweetness, for sawcy indulgence of the appetite. And this, forsooth, must be changed to sawcy lewdness, though the epithet confines us, as it were, to the poet's word. Warburton.

Note return to page 124 5Falsely to take away a life true made,] Falsely is the same with dishonestly, illegally: so false, in the next lines, is illegal, illegitimate. Johnson.

Note return to page 125 6&lblank; in restrained means,] In forbidden moulds. I suspect means not to be the right word, but I cannot find another. Johnson. I should suspect that the author wrote, &lblank; in restrained mints, as the allusion is still to coining. Sir W. Davenant omits the passage. Steevens. On reading this passage, it seemed probable to me that Shakespeare, having already illustrated this thought by an allusion to coining, would not give the same image a second time; and that he wrote As to put mettle in restrained means. On looking into the folio I found my conjecture confirmed, for that is the original reading. It is likewise supported by a similar expression in Timon: “&lblank; thy father, that poor rag, “Put stuff to some she beggar, and compounded thee “Poor rogue hereditary.” [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0174 The sense is clear, and means may stand without alteration.— '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 it is as improper to pardon the latter as the former. —The words—to make a false one—evidently referring to life, shew that the preceding line is to be understood in a natural and not in a metaphorical sense. Malone.

Note return to page 126 7'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.] I would have it considered, whether the train of the discourse does not rather 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.

Note return to page 127 8Pleas'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 128 9And nothing of your, asnwer.] 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, means, and make no part of those 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 129 1Proclaim an enshield beauty &lblank;] An enshield beauty is a shielded beauty, a beauty covered as with a shield. Steevens. &lblank; as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty, &c. This should be written en-shell'd, or in-shell'd, as it is in Coriolanus, Vol. VII. p. 411: “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 Shakespeare 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 reflection, in the character of the duke especially, which seem calculated for the royal ear. Tyrwhitt. Sir W. Davenant 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 130 2Accountant to the law upon that pain.] Pain is here for penalty, punishment. Johnson.

Note return to page 131 3(As I subscribe not that, &lblank;] To subscribe means, to agree to. Milton uses the word in the same sense. So in Marlow's Lust's Dominion, 16&wblank;: “Subscribe to his desires.” Steevens.

Note return to page 132 4But in the loss of question) &lblank;] 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. But in the loss of question. This expression I believe means, but in idle supposition, or conversation that tends to nothing, which may therefore, in our author's language, be call'd the loss of question. Thus in Coriolanus. act III. sc. 1: “The which shall turn you to no other harm, “Than so much loss of time.” Question, in Shakespeare, often bears this meaning. So in his Tarquin and Lucrece: “And after supper, long he questioned “With modest Lucrece, &c.” Steevens. The following passages add strength to Dr. Johnson's conjecture: “I could toss woe for woe until to-morrow, “But then we'd wake the wolf with bleating sorrow.” Acolastus his Afterwit, 1606. “Whether it were a question mov'd by chance “Or spitefully of purpose (I being there “And your own countryman) I cannot tell; “But when much tossing “Had bandied both the king and you, as pleas'd “Those that took up the rackets” &lblank; Noble Spanish Soldier, by Rowley, 1634. Malone.

Note return to page 133 5Of the all-binding law; &lblank;] The old editions read: &lblank; all-building law, &lblank; from which the editors have made all-holding; yet Mr. Theobald has binding in one of his copies. Johnson.

Note return to page 134 6&lblank; a brother died at once,] Perhaps we should read: Better it were, a brother died for once Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. Johnson.

Note return to page 135 7If 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. Shakespeare has the same allusion in Cymbeline: “&lblank; senseless bauble, “Art thou a feodarie for this act?” Again, in the prologue to Marston's Sophonisha, 1606: “For seventeen kings were Carthage feodars.” The old copy reads—thy weakness. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 8Owe, and succeed &lblank;] To owe is, in this place, to own, to hold, to have possession. Johnson.

Note return to page 137 9&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 138 1In profiting by them. &lblank;] In imitating them, in taking them for examples. Johnson.

Note return to page 139 2And credulous to false prints.] i. e. take any impression. Warburton.

Note return to page 140 3&lblank; speak the former language.] We should read formal, which he here uses for plain, direct. Warburton. 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 141 4I 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 malecontents. Warburton.

Note return to page 142 5Which 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 143 6—Seeming, seeming!—] Hypocrisy, hypocrisy; counterfeit virtue. Johnson.

Note return to page 144 7My vouch against you, &lblank;] 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.

Note return to page 145 8That 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 146 9and prolixious blushes.] The word prolixious is not peculiar to Shakespeare. 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,” Steevens.

Note return to page 147 1&lblank; die the death,] This seems to be a solemn phrase for death inflicted by law. So in Midsummer Night's Dream: “Prepare to die the death.” Johnson. It is a phrase taken from scripture, as is observed in a note on the 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 Cant. 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 148 2&lblank; prompture &lblank;] Suggestion, temptation, instigation. Johnson.

Note return to page 149 3&lblank; such a mind of honour,] This, in Shakespeare's language may mean, such an honourable mind, as he uses elsewhere mind of love, for loving mind. Thus in Philafier: “&lblank; I had thought, thy mind “Had been of honour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 150 4Be absolute for death; &lblank;] Be determined to die, without my hope of life. Horace,— “&lblank; The hour, which exceeds expectation will be welcome.” Johnson.

Note return to page 151 5That none but fools would keep: &lblank;] 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 fool would reck: &lblank; i. e. care for, be anxious about, regret the loss of. So in the tragedy of Tancred and Gismunda, act IV. sc. 3: “&lblank; Not that she recks this life &lblank;” And Shakespeare, 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, late edit. ver. 2240: “I kepe nought of armes for to yelpe.” Again, in a Mery Jeste of a Man called Howleglas, 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.” Steevens.

Note return to page 152 6That do this habitation, &lblank;] This reading is substituted by sir Thomas Hanmer, for That dost &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 153 7&lblank; merely thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet runnest toward him still: &lblank;] In those old farces called Moralities, the fool of the piece, in order to shew 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.

Note return to page 154 8Are nurs'd by baseness: &lblank;] Dr. Warburton is undoubtedly mistaken in supposing that by baseness is meant self-love here assigned as the motive of all human actions. Shakespeare 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 Shakespeare 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 beggars nurse, and Cæsar's.” Steevens.

Note return to page 155 9&lblank; the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm: &lblank;] Worm is put for any creeping thing or serpent. Shakespeare 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 the Midsummer Night's Dream he has the same notion: “&lblank; With doubler tongue “Than thine, O serpent, never adder stung.” Johnson. Shakespeare 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 156 1&lblank; Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grosly fear'st Thy death, which is no more. &lblank;] Evidently from the following passage of Cicero: “Habes somnum imaginem mortis, eamque quotidie induis, & 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 Shakespeare 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 Shakespeare; 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.

Note return to page 157 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 158 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.

Note return to page 159 4&lblank; serpigo,] The serpigo is a kind of tetter. Steevens.

Note return to page 160 5&lblank; Thou hast nor youth, nor age; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both: &lblank;] 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 161 6&lblank; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou'rt 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 logic than I have. I suppose the poet wrote, &lblank; For pull'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. Shakespeare 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.

Note return to page 162 7palsied eld;] Eld is generally used for old age, decrepitude. It is here put for old people, persons worn out with years. So in Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 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 163 8&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 satyrical, 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.

Note return to page 164 9&lblank; more thousand deaths: &lblank;] 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 165 1Bring them to speak where I may be concealed, Yet hear them.] Thus the modern editions. The old copy, published by the players, gives the passage thus: Bring them to hear me speak, where I may be conceal'd. I believe we should read: Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd. Steevens. The second folio authorizes the reading of the modern editions. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 166 2&lblank; as all comforts are; most good indeed:] 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: “Why, “As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede.” I believe the old reading, as explained by Dr. Johnson, is the true one. So in Macbeth: “We're yet but young in deed.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0178

Note return to page 167 3&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 lieger 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.” Steevens.

Note return to page 168 4&lblank; your best appointment &lblank;] The word appointment, on this occasion, should seem to comprehendcon session, communion, and absolution. “Let him (says Escalus) be furnish'd 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. prepar'd, furnished. Steevens.

Note return to page 169 5&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 170 6The 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 carelesly inflict on other creatures, that feel the pain as acutely as we. Johnson.

Note return to page 171 7&lblank; I will encounter darkness as a bride, An hug it in in my arms.] So in the first part of Jeronimo, or the Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “&lblank; night “That yawning beldam, with her jetty skin, “'Tis she hug as mine effeminate bride.” Steevens.

Note return to page 172 8&lblank; follies doth emmew.] Forces follies to lie in cover without daring to show themselves. Johnson.

Note return to page 173 9As faulcon doth the fowl, &lblank;] In whose presence the follies of youth are afraid to shew themselves, as the fowl is afraid to flutter while the falcon hovers over it. So in the Third Part of K. 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 used by B. and Fletcher, in The Knights 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 174 1His filth within being cast. &lblank;] 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 175 2The princely Angelo? &lblank; &lblank; princely guards! &lblank;] The stupid editors, mistaking guards for satellites, (whereas it here signifies lace) altered priestly, in both places, to princely. Whereas Shakespeare 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 here 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 guards mean no more than the ornaments of royalty, which Angelo is supposed to assume during the absence of the duke. The stupidity of the first editors is sometimes not more injurious to Shakespeare, 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.

Note return to page 176 3&lblank; for this rank offence,] For, Hanmer. In other editions, from. Johnson. &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 177 4&lblank; as a pin.] So in Hamlet: “I do not set my life at a pin's fee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 178 5When he would force it, &lblank;] Put it in force. Warburton. The meaning seems to me just the reverse, When he, so wise, would offer violence to the law, would transgress it, surely the transgression cannot be in me a sin. The next speech of Claudio shews that such is the meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 179 6If it were damnable, &c.] Shakespeare 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 shall 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 180 7Be perdurably find.] Perdurably is lastingly. So in Othello: “&lblank; cables of perdurable toughness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 181 8&lblank; delighted spirit] 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 crowded 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 accustom'd 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 shew its wants and its inconveniences. Steevens.

Note return to page 182 9&lblank; lawless and incertain thoughts] Conjecture sent out to wander without any certain direction, and ranging through all possibilities of pain. Johnson.

Note return to page 183 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; which is the whole that is wanted for the argument: 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 passying cold, that yf a greate hylle of fyre were cast therin, it shold torne to yee.” One of their legends, well remembered in the time of Shakespeare, 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 foot: take care, that you do not interpret this the gout, for I remember Menage quotes a canon upon us, “Si quis dixerit episcopum podagrá 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 the philosopher. Farmer. 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 184 2Is't not a kind of incest, &lblank;] 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 185 3&lblank; a warped slip of wilderness] Wilderness is here used or wildness, the state of being disorderly. So in the Maid's Tragedy: “And throws an unknown wilderness about me.” Again, in old [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 186 dele first old.

Note return to page 187 4&lblank; take my defiance:] Defiance is refusal. So in Romeo and Juliet: “I do defy thy commiseration.” Steevens.

Note return to page 188 5&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 189 6Do 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.

Note return to page 190 7Hold you there:] Continue in that resolution. Johnson.

Note return to page 191 8In good time.] i. e. a la bonne heure, so be it. very well. Steevens.

Note return to page 192 9&lblank; her combinate husband,] Combinate is betrothed, settled by contract. Steevens.

Note return to page 193 1only 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.

Note return to page 194 2the 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 investments of authority. Johnson. To scale, as may be learn'd 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 Hollinshed, 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.

Note return to page 195 3&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.

Note return to page 196 4bastard.] A kind of sweet wine, then much in vogue, from the Italian, bastardo. Warburton. See a note on Hen. IV. p. I. act II. sc. iv. Steevens.

Note return to page 197 5since of two usuries, &c.] 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, 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 laws * * * 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 198 6father:] This word should be expunged. Johnson. If father be retained, we may read: Duke. And you, good brother. Elb. Father &lblank; Duke. What offence, &c. Steevens. I am neither for expunging the word father, nor for separating it from its present connexions. 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.

Note return to page 199 7I 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 cloaths on his back, by exercising the vile trade of a bawd. Theobald.

Note return to page 200 8That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from all 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 rhime. Warburton. Sir T. 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 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. Hanmer has only transposed a word to produce a convenient sense. Steevens.

Note return to page 201 9His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. &lblank;] 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 202 1Pigmalion's images, newly made woman,] i. e. come out cured from a salivation. Warburton. Surely this expression is such as may authorise a more delicate explanation. By Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, I believe, Shakespeare 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. “Is there none of Pygmalion's images newly made woman, to be had now?” If Marston's Metamorphosis of Pigmalion'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 Lylly'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.

Note return to page 203 2&lblank; what say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain?] This nonsense should be thus corrected, It's not down, i' the last reign, i. e. these are severities unknown to the old duke's time. And this is to the purpose. Warburton. Dr. Warburton's emendation is ingenious, but I know not whether the sense may not be restored with less change. Let us consider it. 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' th' 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 in 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 K. Henry VI. p. I. sc. ii: “Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 204 3what 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. b. iv: “Out on the old trat, aged dame or wyffe.” Gray. So in Wily Beguiled, 1613: “Thou toothless old trot thou.” Again, in Mucedorus, 1668: “But if the old trot “Should come for her pot.” Again, in the Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638: “What can this witch, this wizard, or old trot.” 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 205 4Which is the way?] What is the mode now? Johnson.

Note return to page 206 5in the tub.] The method of cure for venereal complaints is grosly called the powdering tub. Johnson. It was so called from the method of cure. See the notes on “—the tub-fast and the diet”—in Timon, act IV. Steevens.

Note return to page 207 6go; 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.

Note return to page 208 7&lblank; it is not the wear.] i. e. it is not the fashion. Steevens.

Note return to page 209 8Go,—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 210 9It is too general a vice,] The occasion of the observation was Lucio's saying, that it ought to be treated with a little more lenity; and his answer to it is,—The vice is of great kindred. Nothing can be more absurd than all this. From the occasion, and the answer, therefore, it appears, that Shakespeare wrote, It is too gentle a vice, which signifying both indulgent and well-bred, Lucio humourously takes it in the latter sense. Warburton. It is too general a vice. Yes, replies Lucio, the vice is of 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 211 1and 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.

Note return to page 212 2much 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 generally so reported, which seem to relate not to a known but suspected fact. Malone.

Note return to page 213 3clack-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 shew that their vessel was empty. This appears from a passage quoted on another occasion by Dr. Gray. Dr. Gray'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 Cresseid: “Thus shalt thou go begging from hous to hous, “With cuppe and clappir, like a Lazarous.” And by a stage direction in the 2d Part of K. Edw. IV. 1619: “Enter Mrs. Blague very poorly, begging with her basket and a clap-dish.” Again, in Bussy D' Ambois, 1641: “That affects royalty, rising from a clap-dish.” Again, in Green's Tu quoque, 1599: “Widow, hold your clap-dish, fasten your tongue.” Again, in the Honest Whore, by Decker, 2d Part, 1630: “You'd better get a clap-dish, and say you are proctor to some spital-house.” Again, in Drayton's Epistle from Elinor Cobham, to Duke Humphrey: “Worse now than with a clap-dish in my hand.” 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.

Note return to page 214 4&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 Malecontent, 1604: “Come we must be inward, thou and I all one.” Steevens.

Note return to page 215 5The greater file of the subject] The larger lift, the greater number. Johnson. So in Macbeth: &lblank; “the valued file.” Steevens.

Note return to page 216 6the business he hath helmed,] The difficulties he hath steer'd through. A metaphor from navigation. Steevens.

Note return to page 217 7&lblank; ungenitur'd agent] This word seems to be form'd from genitoirs, a word which occurs in Holland's Pliny, tom. ii. p. 321, 560, 589, and comes from the French genitoires, the genitals. Tollett.

Note return to page 218 8eat mutton on Fridays.] A wench was called a laced mutton. Theobald. So in Doctor Faustus, 1604, Lechery says: “I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of Friday stockfish.” Steevens.

Note return to page 219 9He is now past it; yet,] Sir Thomas Hanmer, 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.

Note return to page 220 1mercy 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.

Note return to page 221 2&lblank; from the see] The folio reads: from the sea. Johnson.

Note return to page 222 3&lblank; he is indeed—justice.] Summum jus, summa injuria. Steevens.

Note return to page 223 4Pattern 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 Shakespeare'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.

Note return to page 224 5To 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. Steevens.

Note return to page 225 6How may likeness made in crimes, Making practice on the times, To draw with idle spider's strings Most pond'rous and substantial things!] Thus all the editions read corruptly; and so have made an obscure passage in itself, quite unintelligible. Shakespeare 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 an 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 spider's 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 spider's strings Most pond'rous and substantial things; meaning by pond'rous and substantial things, pleasure and wealth. Steevens. How may that likeness made in crimes, Making practice of the times, Draw with idle spiders' strings Most pond'rous and substantial things? i. e. How may the making it a practice of letting great rogues break through the laws with impunity, and hanging up little ones for the same crimes; draw away in time with idle spiders strings, (for no better do the cords of the law become, according to the old saying; Leges similes aranearum telis, to which the allusion is) justice and equity, the most ponderous and substantial bases, and pillars of government. When justice on offenders is not done, law, government, and commerce are overthrown. Smith.

Note return to page 226 7So 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 227 8Take, oh, take &c.] This is part of a little song of Shakespeare'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 my poor heart first set free, Bound in those icy chains by thee. Warburton. This song is entire in Beaumont's Bloody Brother, and in Shakespeare's poems. The latter stanza is omitted by Mariana, as not suiting a female character. Theobald. Though Sewell and Gildon have printed this among Shakespeare'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. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0189

Note return to page 228 9My 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 229 1&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 230 2&lblank; circummur'd with brick,] Circummured, walled round. “He caused the doors to be mured and cased up.” Painter's Palace of Pleasure. Johnson.

Note return to page 231 3&lblank; a planched gate,] i. e. a gate made of boards. Planche, Fr. A plancher is a plank. So in Lylly's Maid's Metamorphosis, 1600: “&lblank; upon the ground doth lie “A hollow plancher.” &lblank; Again, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 3: “&lblank; and fowls from planchers sprong.” i. e. barnacles breeding on the planks of ships. 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 232 4There 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.

Note return to page 233 5In action all of precept, &lblank;] 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 all of action, &lblank; that is, in direction given not by words, but by mute signs. Johnson.

Note return to page 234 6I have possess'd him, &lblank;] I have made him clearly and strongly comprehend. Johnson.

Note return to page 235 7That stays upon me;] So in Macbeth: “Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 236 8O place and greatness, &lblank;] 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 lines 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 237 9&lblank; false eyes] That is, Eyes insidious and traiterous. Johnson. So in Chaucer's Sompnoures Tale, late Edit. v. 7633: “Ther is ful many an eye, and many an ere, “Awaiting on a lord, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 238 1&lblank; contrarious quests] Different reports, running counter to each other. Johnson. So in Othello: “The senate has sent out three several quests.” Steevens.

Note return to page 239 2Doth flourish the deceit. &lblank;] 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 another play of Shakespeare: “&lblank; empty trunks o'er-flourish'd by the devil.” Steevens.9Q0190

Note return to page 240 3&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. Shakespeare, 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 fallow your tithe field;” which 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.” Shakespeare uses the word tilth elsewhere: “&lblank; her plenteous womb “Expresseth its full tilth and husbandry.” Again, “Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none.” but my quotation from Gower shews that to sow tilth was a phrase once in use. Steevens.

Note return to page 241 4discredit our mistery.] I think it just worth while to observe, that the word mystery, when used to signify a trade or manual profession, should be spelt with an i, and not a y, because it comes not from the Greek, &grm;&gru;&grs;&grt;&grha;&grr;&gri;&gra;, but from the French, mestier. Warburton.

Note return to page 242 5&lblank; a good favour] Favour is countenance. So in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; why so tart a favour “To publish such good tidings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 243 6what mistery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. Abhor. Sir, it is a mistery. Clown. Proof.— Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. Clown. 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 humourous 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 sits 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. Clown. Sir, it is a mistery, &c.] If Dr. Warburton had attended to the argument by which the Bawd proves his own profession to be a mistery, 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 mistery 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 mistery of fitters of apparel or taylors. 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 mistery. Clown. Proof. &lblank; 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. Revisal.

Note return to page 244 7&lblank; 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. Steevens.9Q0191

Note return to page 245 8&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 246 9&lblank; yare:] i. e. handy. So in Antony and Cleopatra: “His ships are yare, yours heavy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 247 1&lblank; starkly &lblank;] Stiffly. These two lines afford a very pleasing image. Johnson.

Note return to page 248 2They will then,] Perhaps she will then. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 249 3Even with the stroke &lblank;] Stroke is here put for the stroke of a pen or a line. Johnson.

Note return to page 250 4To qualify &lblank;] To temper, to moderate, as we say wine is qualified with water. Johnson. So in Othello: “I have drank but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too.” Steevens.

Note return to page 251 5&lblank; were be meal'd] Were he sprinkled; were he defiled. A figure of the same kind our author uses in Macbeth: “The blood-bolter'd Banquo.” Johnson. So in the Philosopher's Satires, by Robert Anton: “As if their perriwigs to death they gave To meale them in some gastly dead man's grave.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0192

Note return to page 252 6&lblank; That spirit's possest with haste, That wounds the unresisting postern with these strokes.] The line is irregular, and the unresisting postern so strange an expression, that want of measure, and want of sense, might justly raise suspicion of an errour; yet none of the latter editors seem to have supposed the place faulty, except sir Tho. Hanmer, who reads: &lblank; the unresting postern. The three folios have it: &lblank; unsisting postern. 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. &lblank; unresisting postern &lblank;] I should think we might safely read: &lblank; unlist'ning postern, or unshifting postern. The measure requires it, and the sense remains uninjured. Steevens.

Note return to page 253 7&lblank; siege of justice,] i. e. seat of justice. Siege, Fr. So Othello: “&lblank; I fetch my birth “From men of royal siege.” Steevens.

Note return to page 254 8Enter 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, &lblank; 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 255 9desperately 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.

Note return to page 256 1and 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 the custom to die beards. In the Midsummer Night's Dream, Bottom says: “I will discharge it either in your straw-colour'd beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple in grain, &c.” Again, 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: “—he had dy'd his beard, and all.” Again, “To dye your beard, and umber o'er your face.” 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 257 2&lblank; to be so barb'd] The old copy reads—so bar'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 258 3nothing of what is writ.] We should read—here writ—the Duke pointing to the letter in his hand. Warburton.

Note return to page 259 4the unfolding star calls up the shepherd:] “The star, that bids the shepherd fold, “Now the top of heav'n doth hold.” Milton's Masque. Steevens.

Note return to page 260 5First, here's young master Rash; &c.] This enumeration of the inhabitants of the prison affords a very striking view of the practices predominant in Shakespear'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.

Note return to page 261 6a commodity of brown paper and old ginger,] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read, brown pepper. The following passage in Michaelmas Term, Com. 1607, will justify 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 Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600: “&lblank; another that ran in debt, in the space of four or five year, above fourteen thousand pound in lute-strings and grey-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 threescore and ten in the hundred besides the usury.” Again, in Greene's Defence of Coney-catching, 1592: “—so that if he borrow an hundred pound, he shall have forty in silver, and threescore in wares, as lutestrings, hobbyhorses, or brown paper, or cloath, &c.” Again, in the Spanish Curate of B. and Fletcher: “Commodities of pins, brown papers, packthread.” Again, in Gascoigne's Steele Glasse: “To teach young men the trade to sell brown paper.” Steevens. A commodity of brown paper. Mr. Steevens supports this rightly. Fennor asks, in his Comptor'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.

Note return to page 262 7master Forthright] The old copy reads Forthlight; but should not Forthlight be Forthright, alluding to the line in which the thrust is made? Johnson. Shakespeare uses this word 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 263 8and brave master Shooty the great traveller,] Thus the old copy; but as most of these are compound names, I suspect that this was originally written, master Shoe-tye. 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: “Bonding his supple hams, kissing his hands, “Honouring shoe-strings.” As he was a traveller, it is not unlikely that he might be sollicitous about the minutiæ of dress, and the epithet brave seems to countenance the supposition. Steevens. Mr. Steevens's supposition is strengthen'd by Ben Jonson's Epigram upon English Monsieur, vol. vi. p. 253: “That so much scarf of France, and hat, and feather, “And shoe, and tye, and garter, should come hither.” Tollet. Mr. Steevens is certainly right, for so this compounded word was anciently spelt. So in Crashaw's poems, 1670: “To gaudy tire or glistering shoo-ty.” Malone.

Note return to page 264 9in 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. The word in has 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: “—I held it wife a deed charity [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 265 for deed charity, read, deed of charity.

Note return to page 266 1After him, fellows: &lblank;] 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 267 2&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 268 3To the under generation, &lblank;] 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. Steevens.

Note return to page 269 4&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. Steevens.

Note return to page 270 5When 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 271 6&lblank; your bosom &lblank;] Your wish; your heart's desire. Johnson.

Note return to page 272 7I am combined by a sacred vow,] I once thought this should be confined, but Shakespeare uses combine for to bind by a pact or agreement, so he calls Angelo the combinate husband of Mariana. Johnson.

Note return to page 273 8Wend you] To wend is to go. So in the Comedy of Errors: “Hopeless and helpless doth Ægeon wend.” Steevens.

Note return to page 274 9If 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.

Note return to page 275 1&lblank; he lives not in them.] i. e. his character depends not on them. Steevens.

Note return to page 276 2woodman,] That is, huntsman, here taken for a hunter of girls. Johnson. So in the Merry Wives of Windsor, Falstaff asks his mistresses: &lblank; “Am I a woodman? ha!” Steevens.

Note return to page 277 3&lblank; sort and suit,] Figure and rank. Johnson.

Note return to page 278 4&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 279 5&lblank; Yet reason dares her? no:] The old folio impressions read: &lblank; 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: Yet, says Angelo, reason will give her courage—No, that is, it will not. 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 The Gentleman Usher by Chapman: “A cast of falcons on their merry wings “Daring the stooped prey that shifting flies.” Dr. Warburton says, that the meaning is, “the circumstances of our case are such, that she will never venture to contradict me.” It should, however, be remembered, that Angelo had no accusation to prefer against Isabella, so that I know not what assertion of his she could be expected to contradict. I would read: &lblank; yet reason dares her not, For my authority, &c. In K. Henry IV. P. I. to dare is to challenge or call forth: “Unless a brother should a brother dare “To gentle exercise, &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. “It dares me,” in the North, signifies it pains or grieves me; but that sense is not easily applicable to the passage in question. Steevens.9Q0203

Note return to page 280 6&lblank; my authority bears a credent bulk, That no particular slander &c.] Credent is creditable, inforcing credit, not questionable. The old English writers often confound the active and passive adjectives. So Shakespeare, 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. The old copy reads—bears of—I suppose for—bears off, i. e. carries along with it. Steevens.

Note return to page 281 7&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 282 8These letters &lblank;] Peter never delivers the letters, but tells his story without any credentials. The poet forgot the plot which he had formed. Johnson.

Note return to page 283 9&lblank; you do blench from this to that.] To blench is to start off, to fly off. Steevens.

Note return to page 284 1He says, to vail full purpose.] Thus the old copies. I don't know what idea our editors formed to themselves of vailing full purpose; but, I'm persuaded, the poet meant, as I have restored, viz. to a purpose that will stand us in stead, that will profit us. Theobald. He says, to vail 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 vail 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.

Note return to page 285 2Enter 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 286 3The generous, &c.] i. e. the most noble, &c. Generous is here used in its Latin sense. “Virgo generosa et nobilis.” Cicero. Shakespeare uses it again in Othello: “&lblank; the generous islanders “By you invited &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 287 4Have hent the gates, &lblank;] Have seized or taken possession of the gates. Johnson. So in Sir A. Gorges' translation of the 4th B. of Lucan: “&lblank; did prevent “His foes, ere they the hills had hent.” So in T. Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “Lament the Roman land “The king is from thee hent.” Again, in the bl. l. Romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “But with the childe homewarde gan ryde “That fro the gryffon was hent.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Guy of Warwick, b. 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.

Note return to page 288 5&lblank; vail your regard] 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, 1598: “&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.

Note return to page 289 6&lblank; truth is truth To the end of reckoning.] That is, truth has no gradations; nothing which admits of encrease 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 290 7&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 291 8In all his dressings, &c.] In all his semblance of virtue, in all his habiliments of office. Johnson.

Note return to page 292 9&lblank; characts, &lblank;] 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, “And read his carecte in the wise.” B. v. fol. 103. Again, “Through his carectes and figures.” B. vi. fol. 140. Again, “And his carecte as he was taught, “He rad, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 293 1&lblank; do not banish reason For inequality: &lblank;] Let not the high quality of my adversary prejudice you against me. Johnson.

Note return to page 294 2And hide the false, seems true.] We should read, Not hide &lblank; Warburton.

Note return to page 295 3How he refell'd me, &lblank;] To refel is to refute. “Refellere et coarguere mendacium.” Cicero pro Ligario. Ben Jonson uses the word: “Friends, not to refel you, “Or any way quell you.” The modern editors changed the word to repel. Again, in The Second Part of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “Therefore go on, young Bruce, proceed, refell “The allegation.” Again, in The Tragedy of Mariam, 1613: “Her skin will every curtleaxe edge refell.” “The reason's strong and not to be refell'd.” J. Markham's Arcadia, 1607. Again, in Eliosto Libidinoso: “Thou hast so many precepts to refell that thou hast always followed.” Again, in Heywood's Silver Age, 1613: “Will strive by word or action to refell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 296 4To his concupiscible, &c.] Such is the old reading. The modern editors unauthoritatively substitute concupiscent. Steevens.

Note return to page 297 5My sisterly remorse] i. e. pity. Steevens.

Note return to page 298 6His purpose surfeiting] Thus the old copy. We might read forfeiting, but the former word is too much in the manner of Shakespeare to be rejected. So in Othello: “&lblank; my hopes not surfeited to death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 299 7Oh, 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 to another sense; of which there are a great many examples in Shakespeare, 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! Like I have never found for seemly. Johnson.

Note return to page 300 8&lblank; fond wretch,] Fond wretch is foolish wretch. So in another play of our author: “'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 301 9In hateful practice: &lblank;] 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 302 1In countenance! &lblank;] i. e. in partial favour. Warburton.

Note return to page 303 2&lblank; practice.] Practice in Shakespeare, very often means shameful artifice, unjustifiable stratagem. So in K. Lear: “&lblank; This is practice, Gloster.” Again, in K. John: “It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand, “The practice and the purpose of the king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 304 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.

Note return to page 305 4&lblank; his mere request,] i. e. his absolute request. Thus in Hamlet: “&lblank; things rank and gross in nature “Possess it merely.” Steevens.

Note return to page 306 5Whenever he's conven'd &lblank;] 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 Shakespeare 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. 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 307 6So vulgarly &lblank;] Meaning either so grosly, 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.

Note return to page 308 7&lblank; Come, cousin Angelo, In this I will be partial;] In former editions, &lblank; Come, cousin Angelo, In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause &lblank; Surely this Duke had odd notions of impartiality, to commit the decision of a cause to the person accused. He talks much more rationally in the character of the Friar: &lblank; The duke's unjust, Thus to retort your manifest appeal; And put your trial in the villain's mouth, Whom here you come t' accuse. &lblank; I think, there needs no stronger authority to convince, that the poet must have wrote, as I have corrected. In this I will be partial; &lblank; Theobald. “&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: “&lblank; There's not a beauty lives “Hath that impartial predominance “O'er my affects, as your enchanting graces.” Again, in the first edit of Romeo and Juliet, 1597: “Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies!” Again, “&lblank; this day, this unjust, impartial day.” Again, in Montaigne's Essays, translated by Florio, 1632: “—I am very prodigal of cappings, especially in summer.— I wish that some princes that I know would be more sparing and impartial dispensers of them, for being so indiscreetly employed they have no force at all; if they be without regard, then they are without effect.” In support of the old reading, and in confirmation of Mr. Farmer's observation, it may be remarked, that the writers who were contemporary with Shakespeare, when they would express what we now call impartial, generally use the word unpartial. Thus Marston in the play above quoted: “I tell you, Lady, had you view'd us both “With an unpartial eye.” &lblank; So Speed, in his Hist. of Great Britain, 1614, speaking of the death of queen Elizabeth, says—“The God of peace called her to a far higher glory by his unpartial messenger, Death.” Again, in Marston's Preface to The Fawne, 1606:—“And rather to be unpartially beloved of all, than factiously to be admired of a few.” Again, in Heywood's Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, 1637: “&lblank; the sun we find “Unpartially to shine on all mankind.” And indeed, I believe, it will be found, that the ancient English privative un, was in our author's time generally used; and that in or im, which modern writers have substituted in its place, was then frequently used as an augmentative or intensive particle. Thus impartial was used for very partial, and indifferent for very different. See a note on the Taming of a Shrew, act IV. sc. i. Malone.

Note return to page 309 8Neither maid, widow, nor wife?] This is a proverbial phrase to be found in Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 310 9This is a strange abuse: &lblank;] 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 311 1&lblank; her promised proportions Came short of composition; &lblank;] Her fortune, which was promised proportionate to mine, fell short of the composition, that is, contract or bargain. Johnson.

Note return to page 312 2These poor informal women &lblank;] i. e. women who have ill concerted their story. Formal signifies frequently, in our authour, a thing put into form or method: so informal, out of method, ill concerted. How easy is it to say, that Shakespeare might better have wrote informing, i. e. accusing. But he who (as the Oxford editor) thinks he did write so, knows nothing of the character of his stile. Warburton. I once believed informal had no other or deeper signification than informing, accusing. The scope of justice, is the full extent; but think, upon farther enquiry, that informal signifies incompetent, not qualified to give testimony. Of this use there are precedents to be found, though I cannot now recover them. Johnson. 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 us'd 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 shouldst come like a fury crown'd with snakes, “Not like a formal man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 313 3That's seal'd in approbation? &lblank;] 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 314 4&lblank; to hear this matter forth,] To hear it to the end; to search it to the bottom. Johnson.

Note return to page 315 5&lblank; are light at midnight.] This is one of the words on which Shakespeare chiefly delights to quibble. Thus Portia in the Merchant of Venice: “Let me give light, but let me not be light.” Steevens.

Note return to page 316 6&lblank; let the devil, &c.] Shakespeare was a reader of Philemon Holland's translation of Pliny; and in the vth book and 8th chapter, might have met with this idea. “The Augylæ do no worship to any but to the devils beneath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 317 7&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 318 7Nor here provincial:] Nor here accountable. The meaning seems to be, I am not one of his natural subjects, nor of any dependent province. Johnson.

Note return to page 319 8Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,] Barber's 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 crowded, 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. The forfeits in a barber's shop are brought forward by Mr. Kenrick with a parade worthy of the subject. Farmer. 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.” Steevens.

Note return to page 320 9&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 321 1&lblank; those giglots too,] A giglot is a wanton wench. So in K. Henry VI. P. I: “&lblank; young Talbot was not born “To be the pillage of a giglot wench.” Steevens.

Note return to page 322 2Show 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. Show your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd an hour:] 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.9Q0210

Note return to page 323 3my passes:] i. e. what has past in my administration. Steevens.

Note return to page 324 4Advertising and holy] Attentive and faithful. Johnson.

Note return to page 325 5&lblank; be you as free to us.] Be as generous to us, pardon us as we have pardoned you. Johnson.

Note return to page 326 6That brain'd my purpose: &lblank;] 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 327 7&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 328 8So in the Third Part of K. Henry VI: “Measure for Measure must be answered.” Steevens. The following lines in an old tragedy entitled—A Warning for faire Women, 1599; (but apparently written some years before) might have furnished Shakespeare with the title of this play: “The trial now remains as shall conclude, “Measure for Measure, and lost blood for blood.” Malone.

Note return to page 329 9&lblank; denies thee vantage:] Take from thee all opportunity, all expedient of denial. Warburton.

Note return to page 330 1Against all sense you do importune her:] The meaning required is, against all reason and natural affection; Shakespeare, 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 331 2Till 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. “How oft the sight of power to do ill deeds, “Makes ill deeds done?” K. John. Steevens.

Note return to page 332 3His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;] So in Macbeth: “The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, “Unless the deed go with it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 333 4&lblank; after more advice:] i. e. after more mature consideration. Steevens.

Note return to page 334 5&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 335 6&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.

Note return to page 336 7&lblank; your evil quits you well:] Quits you, recompenses, requites you. Johnson.

Note return to page 337 8Look that you love your wife;] So in Promos, &c. “Be loving to good Cassandra, thy wife.” Steevens.

Note return to page 338 9&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 339 1&lblank; here's one in place I cannot pardon;] After the pardon of two murderers, Lucio might be treated by the good duke with less harshness; but perhaps the poet intended to show, what is too often seen, that men easily forgive wrongs which are not committed against themselves. Johnson. If this note had not been written before the conclusion of the play was read, it would have been found that the Duke only meant 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 340 2&lblank; according to the trick:] To my custom, my habitual practice. Johnson.

Note return to page 341 3&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. “—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 342 4Thanks 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. Th' offence pardons itself. Duke. There's more behind That is more gratulate. Dear Isabel, I have a motion, &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 343 5&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 recompence. Steevens.

Note return to page 344 6I cannot help taking notice with how much judgment Shakespeare has given turns to this story from what he found it in Cynthio Giraldi's novel. In the first place, the brother is there actually executed, and the governour 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 governour, and begs his life of the emperour, 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 authour's fiction. This story was attempted for the scene before our authour 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 Cynthio Giraldi, from which Shakespeare is supposed to have borrowed this fable, may be read in Shakespeare illustrated, elegantly translated, with remarks which will assist the enquirer to discover how much absurdity Shakespeare has admitted or avoided. I cannot but suspect that some other had new-modelled the novel of Cynthio, or written a story which in some particulars resembled it, and that Cynthio was not the authour whom Shakespeare immediately followed. The emperour in Cynthio is named Maximine; the duke, in Shakespeare'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 emperour 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. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0213 The Fable of Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578. “The Argument of the whole Historye.” “In the cyttie of Julio (sometimes under the dominion of Corvinus kynge of Hungarie, and Boemia) 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 repryv'd her brother: but wicked man, tourning his liking into unlawfull lust, he set downe the spoile of her honour, raunsome for her brothers life: chaste Cassandra, abhorring both him and his sute, by no persuasion would yeald to this raunsome. But in fine, wonne with 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 conditions: but worse then any infydell, his will satisfyed, he performed neither the one nor the other: for to keepe his aucthoritye, unspotted with favour, and to prevent Cassandrae's clamors, he commaunded the gayler secretly, to present Cassandra with her brother's head. The gayler, with the outcryes of Andrugio, (abhorryng Promos lewdenes) by the providence of God, provided thus for his safety. He presented Cassandra with a felons head newlie executed, who (being mangled, knew it not from her brothers, by the gayler, who was set at libertie) 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 judgement was, to marrye 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 ease, 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 foloweth.” Whetstone, however, has not afforded a very correct analysis of his play, which contains a mixture of comic scenes, between a Bawd, a Pimp, Felons, &c. together with some serious situations which are not described. Steevens.

Note return to page 345 1In the old copy, these brothers are occasionally styled, Antipholus Erotes, or Errotis; and Antipholus Sereptus; meaning, perhaps—erraticus, and surreptus. One of these twins wandered in search of his brother who had been forced from Æmilia, by fishermen of Corinth. The following acrostic is the argument to the Menæchmi of Plautus: Delph. Edit. p. 654. Mercator Siculus, cui erant gemini filii, Ei, surrepto altero, mors obtigit. Nomen surreptitii illi indit qui domi est Avus paternus, facit Menæchmum Sosiclem. Et is germanum, postquam adolevit, quæritat Circum omnes oras. Post Epidamnum devenit: Hic fuerat auctus ille surreptitius. Menæchmum civem credunt omnes advenam: Eumque appellant, meretrix, uxor, et socer. Ii se cognoscunt fratres postremò invicem. The translator, W. W. calls the brothers, Menæchmus Sosicles, and Menæchmus the traveller. Whencesoever Shakespeare adopted erraticus and surreptus (which either he or his editors have mis-spelt) these distinctions were soon dropt, and throughout the rest of the entries the twins are styled of Syracuse or Ephesus. Steevens.

Note return to page 346 2Shakespeare certainly took the general plan of this comedy from a translation of the Menæchmi of Plautus, by W. W. i. e. (according to Wood) William Warner, in 1595, whose version of the acrostical argument already quoted, is as follows:   “Two twinne-borne sonnes, a Sicill marchant had, “Menechmus one, and Sosicles the other;   “The first his father lost a little lad, “The grandsire namde the latter like his brother:   “This (growne a man) long travell tooke to seeke “His brother, and to Epidamnum came,   “Where th' other dwelt inricht, and him so like, “That citizens there take him for the same:   “Father, wife, neighbours, each mistaking either, “Much pleasant error, ere they meete togither.” Perhaps the last of these lines suggested to Shakespeare the title for his piece. See this translation of the Menæchmi, among six old Plays on which Shakespeare founded, &c. published by S. Leacroft, Charing-cross. At Stationers-Hall, Nov. 15, 1613: “A booke called Two Twinnes” was entered by Geo. Norton. Such a play indeed, by W. Rider, was published in 4to. 1695. And Langbaine suspects it to be much older than the date annex'd: otherwise the Twins might have been regarded as Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors, under another title. Steevens.

Note return to page 347 3Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,] All his hearers understood that the punishment he was about to undergo was in consequence of no private crime, but of the public enmity between two states, to one of which he belonged: but it was a general superstition amongst the ancients, that every great and sudden misfortune was the vengeance of Heaven pursuing men for their secret offences. Hence the sentiment put into the mouth of the speaker was proper. By my past life, (says he) which I am going to relate, the world may understand, that my present death is according to the ordinary course of Providence [wrought by nature] and not the effects of divine vengeance overtaking me for my crimes, [not by vile offence.] Warburton.

Note return to page 348 4Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia,] In the northern parts of England this word is still used instead of quite, fully, perfectly, completely. So in Coriolanus: “&lblank; This is clean kam.” Again, in Julius Cæsar: “Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.” The reader will likewise find it in the 77th Psalm. Steevens.

Note return to page 349 5&lblank; wend,] i. e. go. An obsolete word. So in the Spanish Tragedy: “Led by the load-star of her heav'nly looks “Wends poor oppressed Balthasar.” Again, in the play of Orlando Furioso, 1599: “To let his daughter wend with us to France.” Again, in the Merry Devil of Edmonton, 1626: “But wend we merrily to the forest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 350 6&lblank; I shall be post indeed, For she will score your fault upon my pate.] Perhaps before writing was a general accomplishment, a kind of rough reckoning concerning wares issued out of a shop, was kept by chalk or notches on a post, till it could be entered on the books of a trader. So Kitely the merchant making his jealous enquiries concerning the familiarities used to his wife, Cob answers:— “&lblank; if I saw any body to be kiss'd, unless they would have kiss'd the post in the middle of the warehouse; &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 351 7&lblank; that merry sconce of yours,] Sconce is head. So in Hamlet, act V: “&lblank; why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce?” Steevens.

Note return to page 352 8&lblank; o'er-raught&lblank;] That is, over-reached. Johnson. So in Hamlet: “&lblank; certain players “We o'er-raught on the way.” Steevens.

Note return to page 353 9They say, this town is full of cozenage;] This was the character the ancients give of it. Hence &GREs;&grf;&gre;&grs;&gri;&gra; &grasa;&grl;&gre;&grc;&gri;&grf;&gra;&grr;&grm;&gra;&grk;&gra; was proverbial amongst them. Thus Menander uses it, and &GREs;&grf;&gre;&grs;&gri;&gra; &grg;&grr;&graa;&grm;&grm;&gra;&grt;&gra;, in the same sense. Warburton.

Note return to page 354 1As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind, Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;] Those, who attentively consider these three lines, must confess, that the poet intended the epithet given to each of these miscreants, should declare the power by which they perform their feats, and which would therefore be a just characteristic of each of them. Thus, by nimble jugglers, we are taught, that they perform their tricks by slight of hand: and by soul-killing witches, we are informed, the mischief they do is by the assistance of the devil, to whom they have given their souls: but then, by dark-working sorcerers, we are not instructed in the means by which they perform their ends. Besides, this epithet agrees as well to witches as to them; and therefore certainly our author could not design this in their characteristick. We should read: Drug-working sorcerers, that change the mind, and we know by the history of ancient and modern superstition, that these kind of jugglers always pretended to work changes of the mind by these applications. Warburton. The learned commentator has endeavoured with much earnestness to recommend his alteration; but, if I may judge of other apprehensions by my own, without great success. This interpretation of soul-killing is forced and harsh. Sir T. Hanmer reads soul-selling, agreeable enough to the common opinion, but without such improvement as may justify the change. Perhaps the epithets have only been misplaced, and the lines should be read thus: Soul-killing sorcerers, that change the mind, Dark-working witches, that deform the body; This change seems to remove all difficulties. By soul-killing I understand destroying the rational faculties by such means as make men fancy themselves beasts. Johnson. Witches or sorcerers themselves, as well as those who employed them, were supposed to forfeit their souls by making use of a forbidden agency. In that sense, they may be said to destroy the souls of others as well as their own. I believe Dr. Johnson has done as much as was necessary to remove all difficulty from the passage. The hint for this enumeration of cheats, &c. Shakespeare received from the old translation of the Menæchmi, 1595. “For this, assure yourselfe this towne Epidamnum is a place of outrageous expences, exceeding in all ryot and lasciviousnesse: and (I heare) as full of ribaulds, parasites, drunkards, catchpoles, cony-catchers, and sycophants, as it can hold: then for curtizans, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 355 2&lblank; liberties of sin:] Sir T. Hanmer reads, libertines, which, as the author has been enumerating not acts but persons, seems right. Johnson.

Note return to page 356 3Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so. Luc. Why head-strong liberty is lash'd with woe.] Should it not rather be leash'd, i. e. coupled like a head-strong hound? The high opinion I must necessarily entertain of the learned Lady's judgment, who furnished this observation, has taught me to be diffident of my own, which I am now to offer. The meaning of this passage may be, that those who refuse the bridle must bear the lash, and that woe is the punishment of head-strong liberty. It may be observed, however, that the seamen still use lash in the same sense with leash; as does Greene in his Mamillia, 1593: “Thou didst counsel me to beware of love, and I was before in the lash.” Lace was the old English word for a cord, from which verbs have been derived very differently modelled by the chances of pronunciation. So in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “To thee Cassandra which dost hold my freedom in a lace.” When the mariner, however, lashes his guns, the sportsman leashes his dogs, the female laces her clothes, they all perform one act of fastening with a lace or cord. Of the same original is the word windlass, or more properly windlace, an engine, by which a lace or cord is wound upon a barrel. To lace likewise signified to bestow correction with a cord, or rope's end. So in the 2nd Part of Decker's Honest Whore, 1630: “&lblank; the lazy lowne “Gets here hard hands, or lac'd correction.” Again, in The Two angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “So, now my back has room to reach; I do not love to be laced in, when I go to lace a rascal.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0216

Note return to page 357 4&lblank; start some other where?] I cannot but think, that our authour wrote: &lblank; start some other hare? So, in Much ado about Nothing, Cupid is said to be a good hare-finder. Johnson. I suspect that where has here the power of a noun. So in Lear: “Thou losest here, a better where to find.” Again, in Tho. Drant's translation of Horace's Satires, 1567: “&lblank; they ranged in eatche where, “No spousailes knowne, &c.” The sense is, How, if your husband fly off in pursuit of some other woman? The expression is used again, scene 3. “&lblank; his eye doth homage otherwhere.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet, act i: “This is not Romeo, he's some other where.” Other-where signifies—in other places. So in K. Henry VIII. act II. sc. 2: “The king hath sent me otherwhere.” Steevens.

Note return to page 358 5&lblank; though she pause;] To pause is to rest, to be in quiet. Johnson.

Note return to page 359 6&lblank; fool-begg'd&lblank;] She seems to mean, by fool-begg'd patience, that patience which is so near to idiotical simplicity, that your next relation would take advantage from it to represent you as a fool, and beg the guardianship of your fortune. Johnson.

Note return to page 360 7that I could scarce understand them.] i. e. that I could scarce stand under them. This quibble, poor as it is, seems to have been the favourite of Shakespeare. It has been already introduced in the Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; my staff understands me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 361 8Am I so round with you, as you with me,] He plays upon the word round, which signified spherical applied to himself, and unrestrained, or free in speech or action, spoken of his mistress. So the king, in Hamlet, bids the queen be round with her son. Johnson.

Note return to page 362 9&lblank; case me in leather.] Still alluding to a football, the bladder of which is always covered with leather. Steevens.

Note return to page 363 1Of my defeatures.] By defeatures is here meant alteration of features. At the end of this play the same word is used with a somewhat different signification. Steevens.

Note return to page 364 2&lblank; My decayed fair] Shakespeare uses the adjective gilt, as a substantive, for what is gilt, and in this instance fair for fairness. &grT;&grog; &grm;&gro;&gru; &grk;&gra;&grl;&grog;&grn;, is a similar expression. In the Midsummer-Night's Dream, the old quartos read: “Demetrius loves your fair.” Again, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “Thou murd'rer, tyger, glutted with my fair, “Leav'st me forsaken.” Again, in Shakespeare's 68th Sonnet: “Before these bastard signs of fair were born.” Again, in the 83d Sonnet: “And therefore to your fair no painting set.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air “Lurk'd like two thieves to rob him of his fair.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602: “Who lost a daughter, save thyself, for faire, a matchless wench.” Pure is likewise used as a substantive in the Shepherd to the Flowers, a song in England's Helicon, 1614: “Do pluck your pure, ere Phœbus view the land.” Steevens. Fair is frequently used substantively by the writers of Shakespeare's time. So Marston in one of his satires: “As the greene meads, whose native outward faire “Breathes sweet perfumes into the neighbour air.” Hence in the Midsummer-Nights Dream: “Demetrius loves your fair,” may be the right, as well as the old reading. Farmer.

Note return to page 365 3&lblank; too unruly dear,&lblank;] The ambiguity of deer and dear is borrowed, poor as it is, by Waller, in his poem on the Ladies Girdle: “This was my heav'n's extremest sphere, The pale that held my lovely deer.” Johnson. Shakespeare has played upon this word in the same manner in his Venus and Adonis: “Fondling, saith she, since I have hemm'd thee here,   “Within the circuit of this ivory pale, “I'll be the park, and thou shalt be my deer,   “Feed where thou wilt on mountain or on dale.” The lines of Waller seem to have been immediately copied from these. Malone.

Note return to page 366 4&lblank; poor I am but his stale.] The word stale, in our authour, used as a substantive, means not something offered to allure or attract, but something vitiated with use, something of which the best part has been enjoyed and consumed. Johnson. I believe my learned coadjutor mistakes the use of the word stale on this occasion. “Stale to catch these thieves;” in the Tempest, undoubtedly means a fraudulent bait. Here it seems to imply the same as stalking-horse, pretence. I am, says Adriana, but his pretended wife, the mask under which he covers his amours. So in K. John and Matilda, by Robert Davenport, 1655, the queen says to Matilda: “&lblank; I am made your stale, “The king, the king your strumpet, &c,” Again, “&lblank; I knew I was made “A stale for her obtaining.” Again, in the Misfortunes of Arthur, 1587: “Was I then chose and wedded for his stale, “To looke and gape for his retireless sayles “Puft back and flittering spread to every winde?” Again, in the old translation of the Menæchmi of Plautus, 1595, from whence Shakespeare borrowed the expression: “He makes me a stale and a laughing-stock.” Steevens. In Greene's Art of Coney-catching, 1592. A stale is the confederate of a thief; “he that faceth the man,” or holds him in discourse. Again, in another place, “wishing all, of what estate soever, to beware of filthy lust, and such damnable stales, &c.” A stale in this last instance means the pretended wife of a cross-biter. Perhaps, however, stale may here have the same meaning as the French word chaperon. Poor I am but the cover for his infidelity. Collins.

Note return to page 367 5I see, the jewel, best enamelled, Will lose his beauty, yet the gold 'bides still, That others touch, and often touching will: Where gold and no man, that hath a name, By falshood and corruption doth it shame.] In this miserable condition is this passage given us. It should be read thus: I see, the jewel, best enamelled, Will lose his beauty; and the gold 'bides still, That others touch; yet often touching will Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name, But falshood, and corruption, doth it shame. The sense is this, “Gold, indeed, will long bear the handling; however, often touching will wear even gold; just so the greatest character, though as pure as gold itself, may, in time, be injured, by the repeated attacks of falshood and corruption. Warburton. The Revisal reads thus: &lblank; yet the gold 'bides still, That others touch, though often touching will Wear gold, and so a man that hath a name, By falshood and corruption doth it shame. I would read: &lblank; and though gold 'bides still, &c. and the rest, with Dr. Warburton. Steevens.

Note return to page 368 6And make a common of my serious hours.] i. e. intrude on them when you please. The allusion is to those tracts of ground destined to common use, which are thence called commons. Steevens.

Note return to page 369 7and insconce it too,] A sconce was a petty fortification. So in Orlando Furioso, 1559: “Let us to our sconce, and you my lord of Mexico.” Again: “Ay, sirs, ensconce you how you can.” Again: “And here ensconce myself despite of thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 370 8Lest it make you cholerick, &c.] So in the Taming the Shrew: “I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dry'd away, “And I expressly am forbid to touch it, “For it engenders choler, planteth anger, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 371 9Ant. Why is time, &c.] In former editions: Ant. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? S. Dro. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted them in hair, he hath given them in wit. Surely, this is mock-reasoning, and a contradiction in sense. Can hair be supposed a blessing, which Time bestows on beasts peculiarly; and yet that he hath scanted them of it too? Men and Them, I observe, are very frequently mistaken vice versa for each other, in the old impressions of our author. Theobald.

Note return to page 372 1Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair.] That is, Those who have more hair than wit, are easily entrapped by loose women, and suffer the consequences of lewdness, one of which, in the first appearance of the disease in Europe, was the loss of hair. Johnson. So in the Roaring Girl, 1611: “&lblank; Your women are so hot, I must lose my hair in their company, I see.” “His hair sheds off, and yet he speaks not so much in the nose as he did before.” Steevens.

Note return to page 373 2&lblank; falsing.] This word is now obsolete. Spenser and Chaucer often use the verb to false. The author of the Revisal would read falling. Steevens.

Note return to page 374 3&lblank; may'st thou fall] To fall is here a verb active. So in Othello: “Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Steevens.

Note return to page 375 4I am possess'd with an adulterate blot: My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:] Both the integrity of the metaphor, and the word blot, in the preceding line, shew that we should read: &lblank; with the grime of lust: i. e. the stain, smut. So again in this play,—A man may go over shoes in the grime, of it. Warburton.

Note return to page 376 5Being strumpeted] Shakespeare is not singular in his use of this verb. So in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “By this adultress basely strumpetted.” Again: “I have strumpetted no Agamemnon's queen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 377 6I live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured.] To distaine (from the French word, destaindre) signifies, to stain, defile, pollute. But the context requires a sense quite opposite. We must either read, unstain'd; or, by adding an hyphen, and giving the preposition a privative force, read dis-stain'd; and then it will mean, unstain'd, undefiled. Theobald. I would read: I live distained, thou dishonoured. That is, As long as thou continuest to dishonour thyself, I also live distained. Revisal.

Note return to page 378 7&lblank; you are from me exempt,] Exempt, separated, parted. The sense is, If I am doomed to suffer the wrong of separation, yet injure not with contempt me who am already injured. Johnson.

Note return to page 379 8Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine;&lblank;] “Lenta qui velut assitas “Vitis implicat arbores, “Implicabitur in tuum “Complexum.” Catull. So Milton, Par. Lost. B. V: “&lblank; They led the vine “To wed her elm. She spous'd, about him twines “Her marriageable arms.” Malone.

Note return to page 380 9&lblank; idle moss.] i. e. moss that produces no fruit, but being unfertile is useless. So in Othello: &lblank; antres vast and desarts idle. Steevens.

Note return to page 381 1&lblank; the favour'd fallacy.] Thus the modern editors. The old copy reads: &lblank; the free'd fallacy. Which perhaps was only, by mistake, for &lblank; the offer'd fallacy. This conjecture is from an anonymous correspondent. Steevens.

Note return to page 382 2We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprights;] Here Mr. Theobald calls out in the name of Nonsense, the first time he had formally invoked her, to tell him how owls could suck their breath, and pinch them black and blue. He therefore alters owls to ouphs, and dares say, that his readers will acquiesce in the justness of his emendation. But, for all this, we must not part with the old reading. He did not know it to be an old popular superstition, that the scrietch-owl sucked out the breath and blood of infants in the cradle. On this account. the Italians called witches, who were supposed to be in like manner mischievously bent against children, strega from strix, the scrietch-owl. This superstition they had derived from their pagan ancestors, as appears from this passage of Ovid, Sunt avidæ volucres, non quæ Phineïa mensis   Guttura fraudabant; sed genus inde trahunt. Grande caput; stantes oculi; rostra apta rapinæ;   Canities pennis, unguibus hamus inest. Nocte volant, puerosque petunt nutricis egentes,   Et vitiant cunis corpora rapta suis. Carpere dicuntur luctantia viscera rostris,   Et plenum poto sanguine guttur habent. Est illis strigibus nomen: &lblank; Liv. vi. Fast. Warburton. Ghastly owls accompany elvish ghosts in Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar for June. So in Sherringham's Discerptatio de Anglorum Gentis Origine, p. 333. “Lares, Lemures, Stryges, Lamiæ, Manes (Gastæ dicti) et similes monstrorum Greges, Elvarum Chorea dicebatur.” Much the same is said in Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus, p. 112, 113. Tollet. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0218 The epithet elvish is not in the first folio, but is found in the second. Steevens.

Note return to page 383 3Why prat'st thou to thyself? Dromio, thou Dromio, snail, thou slug, thou sot!] In the first of these lines, Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope have both, for what reason I cannot tell, curtailed the measure, and dismounted the doggrel rhyme, which I have replaced from the first folio. The second verse is there likewise read: Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot. The verse is thus half a foot too long; my correction cures that fault: besides drone corresponds with the other appellations of reproach. Theobald.

Note return to page 384 4And shrive you&lblank;] That is, I will call you to confession, and make you tell your tricks. Johnson. So in Hamlet: “&lblank; not shriving time allow'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 385 5carkanet,] seems to have been a necklace or rather chain, perhaps hanging down double from the neck. So Lovelace in his poem: “The empress spreads her carcanets.” Johnson. “Quarquan, ornement d'or qu'on mit au col des damoiselles.” Le grand Dict. de Nicot. A Carkanet seems to have been a necklace set with stones, or strung with pearls. Thus in Partheneia Sacra, &c. 1633: “Seeke not vermilion or ceruse in the face, bracelets of oriental pearls on the wrist, rubie carknets on the neck, and a most exquisite fan of feathers in the hand.” Again, in Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, 1610: “Nay, I'll be matchless for a carcanet, “Whose pearls and diamonds plac'd with ruby rocks “Shall circle this fair neck to set it forth.” Again, in Sir W. Davenant's comedy of the Wits, 1637: “&lblank; she sat on a rich Persian quilt “Threading a carcanet of pure round pearl “Bigger than pigeons eggs.” Again, in The Changes, or Love in a Maze, 1632: “&lblank; the drops “Shew like a carcanet of pearl upon it.” In the play of Soliman and Perseda, 1599, the word carcanet occurs eight or nine times. Steevens. To see the making of her carkanet.] A necklace, from the old French word carcan, whose diminutive was carcanet. It is falsely written caskinet, in Cartwright's Love's Convert, act II. sc. vi. edit. 1651: “The silkworm shall spin only to thy wardrobe; “The sea yield pearls unto thy caskinet.” Read carcanet. Warton. Mr. Warton has been guilty of a small mistake. The caskinet and carcanet were distinct things. The caskinet, I believe, was a small casket for the reception of jewels. So in Lingua, or the Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority, 1607: where the enumeration of articles relative to female ornament is so curious, that I cannot resist the temptation to quote it as an entire system of dress: “—such doing with their looking-glasses, pinning, unpinning; setting, unsetting; formings, and conformings; painting blue veins and cheeks; such stir with sticks and combs, cascanets, dressings, purles, falls, squares, buskes, bodies, scarfs, necklaces, carcanets, rebatos, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pusles, fustles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, fillets, croslets, pendulets, amulets, anulets, bracelets —sardingals, kirtlets, buske-points, shoe-ties, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 386 6Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.] Thus all the printed copies; but certainly, this is cross-purposes in reasoning. It appears, Dromio is an ass by his making no resistance; because an ass, being kick'd, kicks again. Our author never argues at this wild rate, where his text is genuine. Theobald. I do not think this emendation necessary. He first says, that his wrongs and blows prove him an ass; but immediately, with a correction of his former sentiment, such as may be hourly observed in conversation, he observes that, if he had been an ass, he should, when he was kicked, have kicked again. Johnson.

Note return to page 387 7Mome,] a dull stupid blockhead, a stock, a post. This owes its original to the French word Momon, which signifies the gaming at dice in masquerade, the custom and rule of which is, that a strict silence is to be observed: whatever sum one stakes, another covers, but not a word is to be spoken: from hence also comes our word mum! for silence. Hawkins. So in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “Important are th' affairs we have in hand; “Hence with that Mome!” “—Brutus, forbear the presence.” Again, in the old Interlude of the Disobedient Child, b. l. no date, by Tho. Ingeland, late student in Cambridge: “My bones alas shee wyll make to crackell, “And me her husband as a stark Mome.” Again, in the Cobler's Prophecy, 1594, by Robt. Wilson, gent. “I'll not be made such a Mome.” Again, in Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1598: “And when I come home, she makes me a Mome.” Again,— “Farewell, good honest Mome.” Again, in Albions England, 1602. B. iv. chap. 20: “A youth will play the wanton, and an old man prove a Mome.” Steevens.

Note return to page 388 8&lblank; patch!] i. e. fool. Alluding to the particolour'd coats worn by the licens'd fools or jesters of the age. So in Macbeth: “&lblank; what soldiers, patch?” Steevens.

Note return to page 389 9&lblank; I owe?] i. e. I own. So in the Four Prentices of London, 1632: “Who owes that shield? “I:—and who owes that?” Steevens.

Note return to page 390 1&lblank; I trow.] The old copy reads, I hope. Steevens.

Note return to page 391 2&lblank; we shall part with neither.] Thus the old copy: &lblank; we shall part with neither. Common sense requires us to read: &lblank; we shall have part with neither. Warburton. In our old language, to part signified to have part. See Chaucer, Cant. Tales, ver. 9504: “That no wight with his blisse parten shall.” The French use partir in the same sense. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 392 3&lblank; bought and sold.] This is a proverbial phrase. “To be bought and sold in a company.” See Ray's Collection, p. 179. edit. 1737. Steevens.

Note return to page 393 4&lblank; we'll pluck a crow together.] We find the same quibble on a like occasion in one of the comedies of Plautus. The children of distinction among the Greeks and Romans had usually birds of different kinds given them for their amusement. This custom Tyndarus in the Captives mentions, and says, that for his part he had &lblank; tantum upupam. Upupa signifies both a lapwing and a mattock, or some instrument of the same kind, employed to dig stones from the quarries. Steevens.

Note return to page 394 5&lblank; the doors are made against you.] Thus the old edition. The modern editors read: &lblank; the doors are barr'd against you. To make the door, is the expression used to this day in some counties of England, instead of, to bar the door. Steevens.

Note return to page 395 6Supposed by the common rout] For supposed I once thought it might be more commodious to substitute supported; but there is no need of change: supposed is founded on supposition, made by conjecture. Johnson.

Note return to page 396 7For slander lives upon succession;] The line apparently wants two syllables: what they were, cannot now be known. The line may be filled up according to the reader's fancy, as thus: For lasting slander lives upon succession. Johnson. On consulting the first folio, I found the second line had been lengthened out by the modern editors, who read: For ever hous'd where it once gets possession. I have therefore restored it to its former measure. Steevens. The second folio has once; which rather improves the sense, and is not inconsistent with the metre. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 397 8And, in despight of mirth,&lblank;] Mr. Theobald does not know what to make of this; and, therefore, has put wrath instead of mirth into the text, in which he is followed by the Oxford editor. But the old reading is right; and the meaning is, I will be merry, even out of spite to mirth, which is, now, of all things, the most unpleasing to me. Warburton. Though mirth hath withdrawn herself from me, and seems determined to avoid me, yet in despight of her, and whether she will or not, I am resolved to be merry. Revisal.

Note return to page 398 9&lblank; that you have quite forgot] In former copies: And may it be, that you have quite forgot And husbana's office? Shall Antipholis, Ev'n in the spring of love, thy love springs rot? Shall love in buildings grow so ruinate? This passage has hitherto labour'd under a double corruption. What conceit could our editors have of love in buildings growing ruinate? Our poet meant no more than this: Shall thy love-springs rot, even in the spring of love? and shall thy love grow ruinous, ev'n while 'tis but building up? The next corruption is by an accident at press, as I take it; this scene for fifty-two lines successively is strictly in alternate rhimes; and this measure is never broken, but in the second and fourth lines of these two couplets. 'Tis certain, I think, a monosyllable dropt from the tail of the second verse: and I have ventured to supply it by, I hope, a probable conjecture. Theobald. Love-springs are young plants of love. Thus in the Faithful Shepherdess of B. and Fletcher: “The nightingale among the thick-leav'd springs “That sits alone in sorrow.” See a note on the second scene of the fifth act of Coriolanus, where the meaning of this expression is more fully dilated. The rhime which Mr. Theobald would restore, stands thus in the old edition: &lblank; shall Antipholus. If therefore instead of ruinate we should read ruinous, the passage may remain as it was originally written; and perhaps, indeed, throughout the play we should read Antiphilus, a name which Shakespeare might have found in P. Holland's translation of Pliny, B. xxxv, and xxxvii. Antiphilus was a famous painter, and rival to Apelles. Ruinous is justified by a passage in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, act V. sc. iv: “Lest growing ruinous the building fall.” Throughout the first folio, Antipholus occurs much more often than Antipholis, even where the rhime is not concerned; and were the rhime defective here, such transgressions are accounted for in other places. Steevens.

Note return to page 399 1Alas, poor women! make us not believe, &c.] From the whole tenour of the context it is evident, that this negative (not,) got place in the first copies instead of but. And these two monosyllables have by mistake reciprocally dispossess'd one another in many other passages of our author's works. Theobald.

Note return to page 400 2Being compact of credit, means, being made altogether of credulity. So in Heywood's Iron Age, Part II. 1633: “&lblank; she's compact “Merely of blood &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 401 3&lblank; vain,] is light of tongue, not veracious. Johnson.

Note return to page 402 4&lblank; sweet mermaid,] Mermaid is only another name for syren. So in the Index to P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. “Mermaids in Homer were witches, and their songs enchauntements.” Steevens.

Note return to page 403 5&lblank; as a bed I'll take thee,] The old copy reads,—as a bud. Mr. Edwards suspects a mistake of one letter in the passage, and would read: And as a bed I'll take them, and there lye. Perhaps, however, both the ancient readings may be right: As a bud I'll take thee, &c. i. e. I, like an insect, will take thy bosom for a rose, or some other flower, and, “&lblank; phœnix like beneath thine eye “Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die.” It is common for Shakespeare to shift hastily from one image to another. Mr. Edwards's conjecture may, however, receive support from the following passage in the Two Gent. of Verona, act I. sc. ii: “&lblank; my bosom as a bed “Shall lodge thee.” Steevens. The second folio has bed. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 404 6&lblank; if she sink!] I know not to whom the pronoun she can be referred. I have made no scruple to remove a letter from it. The author of the Revisal has the same observation. Steevens.

Note return to page 405 7Not mad, but mated,] i.e. confounded. So in Macbeth: “My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 406 8Gaze where] The old copy reads, when. Steevens.

Note return to page 407 9My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.] When he calls the girl his only heaven on the earth, he utters the common cant of lovers. When he calls her his heaven's claim, I cannot understand him. Perhaps he means that which he asks of heaven. Johnson.

Note return to page 408 1&lblank; for I mean thee:] Thus the modern editors. The folio reads, &lblank; for I am thee. Perhaps we should read: &lblank; for I aim thee. He has just told her, that she was his sweet hope's aim. So in Orlando Furioso, 1594: “&lblank; like Cassius, “Sits sadly dumping, aiming Cæsar's death.” Again, in Drayton's Legend of Robert Duke of Normandy: “I make my changes aim one certain end.” Steevens.

Note return to page 409 2S. Ant. What's her name? S. Dro. Nell, sir; but her name is three quarters; that is, an ell and three quarters, &c.] This passage has hitherto lain as perplexed and unintelligible, as it is now easy, and truly humourous. If a conundrum be restored, in setting it right, who can help it? I owe the correction to the sagacity of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Theobald. This poor conundrum is borrowed by Massinger in The Old Law, 1653: “Cook. That Nell was Hellen of Greece. “Clown. As long as she tarried with her husband she was Ellen, but after she came to Troy she was Nell of Troy. “Cook. Why did she grow shorter when she came to Troy? “Clown. She grew longer, if you mark the story, when she grew to be an ell, &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 410 3S. Ant. Where France? S. Dro. In her forehead, arm'd and reverted, making war against her hair.] All the other countries, mentioned in this description, are in Dromio's replies satirically characterized: but here, as the editors have ordered it, no remark is made upon France; nor any reason given, why it should be in her forehead: but only the kitchen-wench's high forehead is rallied, as pushing back her hair. Thus all the modern editions; but the first folio reads—making war against her heir.—And I am very apt to think, this last is the true reading; and that an equivoque, as the French call it, a double meaning, is designed in the poet's allusion: and therefore I have replaced it in the text. In 1589, Henry III. of France being stabb'd, and dying of his wound, was succeeded by Henry IV. of Navarre, whom he appointed his successor: but whose claim the states of France resisted, on account of his being a protestant. This, I take it, is what he means, by France making war against her heir. Now, as, in 1591, queen Elizabeth sent over 4000 men, under the conduct of the earl of Essex, to the assistance of this Henry of Navarre; it seems to me very probable, that during this expedition being on foot, this comedy made its appearance. And it was the finest address imaginable in the poet to throw such an oblique sneer at France, for opposing the succession of that heir, whose claim his royal mistress, the queen, had sent over a force to establish, and oblige them to acknowledge. Theobald. With this correction and explication Dr. Warburton concurs, and sir Thomas Hanmer thinks an equivocation intended, though he retains hair in the text. Yet surely they have all lost the sense by looking beyond it. Our authour, in my opinion, only sports with an allusion, in which he takes too much delight, and means that his mistress had the French disease. The ideas are rather too offensive to be dilated. By a forehead armed, he means covered with incrusted eruptions: by reverted, he means having the hair turning backward. An equivocal word must have senses applicable to both the subjects to which it is applied. Both forehead and France might in some sort make war against their hair, but how did the forehead make war against its heir? The sense which I have given immediately occurred to me, and will, I believe, arise to every reader who is contented with the meaning that lies before him, without sending out conjecture in search of refinements. Johnson. Shakespeare had not written any thing in 1591. In 1593, “the first heir of his invention” (if we may believe his own account of it) was produced. See the Extracts from the Stationers' Books, at the end of the Prefaces, &c. Vol. I. of this edition. Steevens.

Note return to page 411 4&lblank; to be ballasted] Thus the modern editors. The old copy reads only ballast, which may be right. Thus in Hamlet: “&lblank; to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar.” i. e. hoisted. Steevens.

Note return to page 412 5&lblank; assured to her;] i. e. affianced to her. Thus in K. John: “For so I did when I was first assur'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 413 6And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, &c.] Alluding to the superstition of the common people, that nothing could resist a witch's power of transforming men into animals, but a great share of faith: however the Oxford editor thinks a breast made of flint, better security, and has therefore put it in. Warburton.

Note return to page 414 7&lblank; at the Porcupine;] It is remarkable, that throughout the old editions of Shakespeare's plays, the word Porpentine is used instead of Porcupine. Perhaps it was so pronounced at that time. I have since observed the same spelling in the plays of other ancient authors. Mr. Tollet finds it likewise in p. 66 of Ascham's Works by Bennet, and in Stowe's Chronicle in the years 1117, 1135. Steevens.

Note return to page 415 8&lblank; want gilders] A gilder is a coin valued from one shilling and six pence, to two shillings. Steevens.

Note return to page 416 9Is growing to me&lblank;] i. e. accruing to me. Steevens.

Note return to page 417 9&lblank; thou peevish sheep,] Peevish is silly. So in Cymbeline: “Desire my man's abode where I did leave him; “He's strange and peevish.” See a note on act I. sc. vii. Steevens.

Note return to page 418 1Where Dowsabel&lblank;] This name occurs in one of Drayton's Pastorals: “He had, as antique stories tell, “A daughter cleaped Dowsabel, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 419 2&lblank; meteors tilting in his face?] Alluding to those meteors in the sky, which have the appearance of lines of armies meeting in the shock. To this appearance he compares civil wars in another place: “Which, like the meteors of a troubled heav'n, “All of one nature, of one substance bred, “Did lately meet in the intestine shock “And furious close of civil butchery.” Warburton. The allusion is more clearly explained by the following comparison in the second book of Paradise Lost: “As when to warn proud cities, war appears “Wag'd in the troubled sky, and armies rush “To battle in the clouds, before each van “Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears “Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms “From either end of heaven the welkin burns.” Steevens.

Note return to page 420 3sere,] that is, dry, withered. Johnson.

Note return to page 421 4Stigmatical in making,&lblank;] That is, marked or stigmatized by nature with deformity, as a token of his vicious disposition. Johnson. So in the Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1598: “It is a most dangerous and stigmatical humour.” Again, in The Wonder of a Kingdom, 1636: “If you spy any man that hath a look, “Stigmatically drawn, like to a fury's, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 422 5Far from her nest the lapwing &c.] This expression seems to be proverbial. I have met with it in many of the old comic writers. Greene, in his Second Part of Coney-catching, 1592, says:—“But again to our priggers, who, as before I said, cry with the lapwing farthest from the nest, and from their place of residence where their most abode is.” Nash, speaking of Gabriel Harvey, says—“he withdraweth men, lapwing-like, from his nest, as much as might be.” Again, in Mother Bombie, 1594: “I'll talk of other matters, and fly from the mark I shoot at, lapwing-like, flying from the place where I nestle.” Again, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; and will lye like a lapwing.” See this passage yet more amply explained in a note on Measure for Measure, act i. Steevens.

Note return to page 423 6&lblank; an everlasting garment] Everlasting was in the time of Shakespeare, as well as at present, the name of a kind of durable stuff. The quibble intended here, is likewise met with in B. and Fletcher's Woman Hater: “&lblank; I'll quit this transitory “Trade, and get me an everlasting robe, “Sear up my conscience, and turn serjeant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 424 7A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough;] Dromio here bringing word in haste that his master is arrested, describes the bailiff by names proper to raise horror and detestation of such a creature, such as, a devil, a fiend, a wolf, &c. But how does fairy come up to these terrible ideas? we should read, a fiend, a fury, &c. Theobald. There were fairies like hobgoblins, pitiless and rough, and described as malevolent and mischievous. Johnson.

Note return to page 425 8A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, &c. of allies, creeks, and narrow lands;] It should be written, I think, narrow lanes, as he has the same expression, Rich. II. act V. sc. vi: “Even such they say as stand in narrow lanes.” Gray. The preceding rhime forbids us to read—lanes. A Shoulder-clapper is a bailiff: “&lblank; fear none but these same shoulder-clappers.” Decker's Satiromastix. Steevens.

Note return to page 426 9A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well;] To run counter is to run backward, by mistaking the course of the animal pursued; to draw dry-foot is, I believe, to pursue by the track or prick of the foot; to run counter and draw dry-foot well are, therefore, inconsistent. The jest consists in the ambiguity of the word counter, which means the wrong way in the chase, and a prison in London. The officer that arrested him was a serjeant of the counter. For the congruity of this jest with the scene of action, let our authour answer. Johnson. Ben Jonson has the same expression; Every Man in his Humour, act II. sc. iv. “Well, the truth is, my old master intends to follow my young, dry-foot over Moorfields to London this morning, &c.” To draw dry-foot, is when the dog pursues the game by the scent of the foot: for which the blood-hound is famed. Gray. So in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks: “A hunting, Sir Oliver, and dry-foot too!” Again, in the Dumb Knight, 1633: “I care not for dry-foot hunting.” Steevens.

Note return to page 427 1&lblank; poor souls to hell.] Hell was the cant term for an obscure dungeon in any of our prisons. It is mentioned in the Counterrat, a poem, 1658: “In Wood-street's hole, or Poultry's hell.” The dark place into which a taylor throws his shreds, is still in possession of this title. So in Decker's If this be not a good Play the Devil is in it, 1612: “&lblank; Taylors—'tis known “They scorn thy hell, having better of their own.” There was likewise a place of this name under the Exchequer-chamber, where the king's debtors were confined till they had paid the uttermost farthing. Steevens.

Note return to page 428 2&lblank; on the case.] An action upon the case, is a general action given for the redress of a wrong done any man without force, and not especially provided for by law. Gray.

Note return to page 429 3&lblank; was he arrested on a band?] Thus the old copy, and I believe rightly; though the modern editors read bond. A bond, i. e. an obligatory writing to pay a sum of money, was anciently spelt band. A band is likewise a neckcloth. On this circumstance I believe the humour of the passage turns. B. Jonson, personifying the instruments of the law, says: “&lblank; Statute, and band, and wax, shall go with me.” Again, without personification: “See here your mortgage, statute, band, and wax.” So in the Spanish Tragedy: “1 Citizen. &lblank; Sir, here's my declaration. “2 Citizen. And here's my band. “3 Citizen. And here's my lease.” Again, in The Miseries of inforced Marriage, 1609: “First draw him into bands for money.” Again, in Histriomastix, 1610: “&lblank; tye fast our lands “In statute staple, or these Merchants' bands.” Again, in The Walks of Islington and Hogsden: “From turning over goods in other's hands, “And from the settings of our marks to bands.” Steevens.

Note return to page 430 4If time be in debt,] The old edition reads—If I be in debt. Steevens.

Note return to page 431 5&lblank; what have you got the picture of old Adam new apparell'd?] A short word or two must have slipt out here, by some accident in copying, or at press; otherwise I have no conception of the meaning of the passage. The case is this. Dromio's master had been arrested, and sent his servant home for money to redeem him: he, running back with the money, meets the twin Antipholis, whom he mistakes for his master, and seeing him clear of the officer before the money was come, he cries, in a surprize; What, have you got rid of the picture of old Adam new apparell'd? For so I have ventured to supply, by conjecture. But why is the officer call'd old Adam new apparell'd? The allusion is to Adam in his state of innocence going naked; and immediately after the fall, being cloath'd in a frock of skins. Thus he was new apparell'd: and, in like manner, the serjeants of the Counter were formerly clad in buff, or calves-skin, as the author humourously a little lower calls it. Theobald. The explanation is very good, but the text does not require to be amended. Johnson. These jests on Adam's dress are common among our old writers. So in King Edward III. 1599: “The register of all varieties “Since leathern Adam to this younger hour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 432 6he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than a morris-pike.] Sets up his rest, is a phrase taken from military exercise. When gunpowder was first invented, its force was very weak compared to that in present use. This necessarily required fire-arms to be of an extraordinary length. As the artists improved the strength of their powder, the soldiers proportionably shortned their arms and artillery; so that the cannon which Froissart tells us was once fifty feet long, was contracted to less than ten. This proportion likewise held in their muskets; so that, till the middle of the last century, the musketteers always supported their pieces when they gave sire, with a rest stuck before them into the ground, which they called setting up their rest, and is here alluded to. There is another quibbling allusion too to the serjeant's office of arresting. But what most wants animadversion is the morris pike, which is without meaning, impertinent to the sense, and false in the allusion; no pike being used amongst the dancers so called, or at least not fam'd for much execution. In a word, Shakespeare wrote, &lblank; a Maurice-pike. i. e. a pikeman of prince Maurice's army. He was the greatest general of that age, and the conductor of the Low-country wars against Spain, under whom all the English gentry and nobility were bred to the service. Being frequently overborne with numbers, he became famous for his fine retreats, in which a stand of pikes is of great service. Hence the pikes of his army became famous for their military exploits. Warburton. This conjecture is very ingenious, yet the commentator talks unnecessarily of the rest of a musket, by which he makes the hero of the speech set up the rest of a musket, to do exploits with a pike. The rest of a pike was a common term, and signified, I believe, the manner in which it was fixed to receive the rush of the enemy. A morris-pike was a pike used in a morris or a military dance, and with which great exploits were done, that is, great feats of dexterity were shewn. There is no need of change. Johnson. A morris-pike is mentioned by the old writers as a formidable weapon; and therefore Dr. Warburton's notion is deficient in first principles. “Morespikes (says Langley in his translation of Polydore Virgil) were used first in the siege of Capua.” And in Reynard's Deliverence of certain Christians from the Turks, “the English mariners laid about them with brown bills, halberts, and morrice-pikes.” Farmer. Polydore Virgil does not mention morris-pikes at the siege of Capua, though Langley's translation of him advances their antiquity so high. Tollet. So in Heywood's K. Edward IV. 1626: “Of the French were beaten down “Morris-pikes and bowmen, &c.” Again, in Hollinshed, p. 816: “&lblank; they entered the gallies again with moris pikes and fought, &c.” Steevens. Morris pikes, or the pikes of the Moors, were excellent formerly; and since, the Spanish pikes have been equally famous. See Hartlib's legacy, p. 48. Tollet.

Note return to page 433 7&lblank; if you do expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long spoon.] Or, which modern editors have thrown out of the text, signifies, before. Of this use of the word, many instances occur in ancient writers. So in Arden of Feversham, 1599: “He shall be murdered or the guests come in.” See a note on K. John, act IV. sc. iii. Steevens.

Note return to page 434 8&lblank; a schoolmaster called Pinch,] Thus the old copy: in many country villages the pedagogue is still a reputed conjurer. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0221

Note return to page 435 9Mistress, respice finem, respect your end; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, Beware the rope's end.] These words seem to allude to a famous pamphlet of that time, wrote by Buchanan against the lord of Liddington; which ends with these words, Respice finem, respice funem. But to what purpose, unless our author would shew that he could quibble as well in English, as the other in Latin, I confess I know not. As for prophesying like the parrot, this alludes to people's teaching that bird unlucky words; with which, when any passenger was offended, it was the standing joke of the wise owner to say, Take heed, sir, my parrot prophesies. To this, Butler hints, where, speaking of Ralpho's skill in augury, he says: “Could tell what subtlest parrots mean, “That speak and think contrary clean; “What member 'tis of whom they talk, “When they cry rope, and walk, knave, walk.” Warburton. So in Decker's Satiromastix: “But come, respice funem.” Steevens.

Note return to page 436 1Certes,] i. e. certainly. Obsolete. So in the Tempest: “For certes, these are people of the island.” Steevens.

Note return to page 437 2Kitchen-vestal] Her charge being like that of the vestal virgins, to keep the fire burning. Johnson.

Note return to page 438 3&lblank; thou peevish officer?] This is the second time that in the course of this play, peevish has been used for foolish. Steevens.

Note return to page 439 4&lblank; unhappy strumpet!] Unhappy is here used in one of the senses of unlucky; i. e. mischievous. Steevens.

Note return to page 440 5the copy] i. e. the theme. We still talk of setting copies for boys. Steevens.

Note return to page 441 6Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair;] Shakespeare could never make melancholy a male in this line, and a female in the next. This was the foolish insertion of the first editors. I have therefore put it into hooks, as spurious. Warburton. The defective metre of the second line, is a plain proof that some dissyllable word hath been dropped there. I think it therefore probable our poet may have written: Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth sensue, But moodie [moping] and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair? And at their heels a huge infectious troop. Revisal. It has been observed to me that Mr. Capell reads: But moody and dull melancholy, kins &lblank; woman to grim and comfortless despair; but I hardly think he could be serious; at, though the Roman language may allow of such transfers from the end of one verse to the beginning of the next, the custom is unknown to English poetry, unless it be of the burlesque kind: It is too like Homer Travesty: “&lblank; On this, Agam &lblank; “memnon began to curse and damn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 442 7&lblank; a formal man again:] i. e. to bring him back to his senses, and the forms of sober behaviour. So in Measure for Measure: —“informal women” for just the contrary. Steevens.

Note return to page 443 8&lblank; sorry execution,] So in Macbeth: “Of sorriest fancies your companions making.” Sorry, had anciently a stronger meaning than at present. Thus, in Chaucer's Prologue to The Sompnoures Tale, v. 7283. late edit: “This Frere, whan he loked had his fill “Upon the turments of this sory place.” Again, in the Knightes Tale, where the temple of Mars is described: “All full of chirking was that sory place.” Steevens.

Note return to page 444 9Whom I made lord of me and all I had, At your important letters,&lblank;] Important seems to be for importunate. Johnson. So in one of Shakespeare's Historical plays: “&lblank; great France “My mourning and important tears hath pitied. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0223 Shakespeare, who gives to all nations the customs of his own, seems from this passage to allude to a court of wards in Ephesus. The court of wards was always considered as a grievous oppression. It is glanced at as early as in the old morality of Hycke Scorner: “&lblank; these ryche men ben unkinde: “Wydowes do curse lordes and gentyllmen, “For they contrayne them to marry with theyr men, “Ye, wheder they wyll or no.” Steevens.

Note return to page 445 1&lblank; to take order] i. e. to take measures. So in Othello. act V. “Honest Iago hath ta'en order for it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 446 2And, with his mad attendant and himself,] We should read: &lblank; mad himself. Warburton. We might read: “And here his mad attendant and himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 447 3Beaten the maids a-row,] i. e. successively, one after another. So in Chaucer's Wife of Bathes Tale, v. 6836. late edit: “A thousand time a-row he gan hire kisse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 448 4Whose beard they have sing'd off with brands of fire;] Such a ludicrous circumstance is not unworthy of the farce in which we find it introduced; but is rather out of place in an epic poem, amidst all the horrors and carnage of a battle: “Obvius ambustum torrem Corinæus ab ara “Corripit, et venienti Ebuso, plagamque ferenti, “Occupat os flammis: Illi ingens barba reluxit, “Nidoremque ambusta dedit.” Virg. Æneis, lib. xii. Steevens.

Note return to page 449 5His man with scissars nicks him like a fool:] The force of this allusion I am unable to explain. Perhaps it was once the custom to cut the hair of ideots or jesters close to their heads. There is a proverbial simile—“Like crop the conjurer;” which might have been applied to either of these characters. Steevens. There is a penalty of ten shillings in one of king Alfred's ecclesiastical laws, if one opprobriously shave a common man like a fool. Tollet.

Note return to page 450 6To scorch your face,&lblank;] We should read scotch, i. e. hack, cut. Warburton. To scorch I believe is right. He would have punished her as he had punished the conjurer before. Steevens.

Note return to page 451 7&lblank; with harlots] Antipholis did not suspect his wife of having entertained courtezans, but of having been confederate with cheats to impose on him and abuse him. Therefore, he says to her act IV. sc. iv: &lblank; are these your customers? Did this companion with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house to day? By this description he points out Pinch and his followers. Harlot was a term of reproach applied to cheats among men as well as to wantons among women. Thus, in the Fox, Corbacchio says to Volpone: “&lblank; Out harlot!” Again, in the Winter's Tale: “&lblank; for the harlot king “Is quite beyond mine arm.&lblank;” Again, in the ancient mystery of Candlemas-Day, 1512. Herod says to Watkin: “Nay, harlott, abyde stylle with my knyghts I warne the.”— The learned editor of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 4 vols, 8vo. 1775, observes, that in The Romaunt of the Rose, v. 6068, King of Harlots is Chaucer's Translation of Roy des ribaulx. Chaucer uses the word more than once: “A sturdy harlot went hem ay behind, “That was hir hostes man &c.” Sompnoures Tale, v. 7336. Again, in the Dyers' Play, among the Chester Collection in the Museum, Antichrist says to the male characters on the stage: “Out on ye harlots, whence come ye?” Steevens.

Note return to page 452 8&lblank; I am advised&lblank;] i. e. I am not going to speak precipitately or rashly, but on reflexion and consideration. Steevens.

Note return to page 453 9mated,] i. e. wild, foolish, from the Italian matto. I think you are all fools or madmen. Malone.

Note return to page 454 1&lblank; deformed] for deforming. Steevens.

Note return to page 455 2strange defeatures] Defeature is the privative of feature. The meaning is, time hath cancelled my features. Johnson. Defeatures are undoings, miscarriages, misfortunes; from defaire, Fr. So in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1599: “The day before the night of my defeature, (i. e. undoing.) “He greets me with a casket richly wrought.” The sense is, I am deformed, undone, by misery. Steevens.

Note return to page 456 3&lblank; this grained face] i. e. furrow'd, like the grain of wood. So in Coriolanus: “&lblank; my grained ash.” Steevens.

Note return to page 457 4All those old witnesses (I cannot err)] I believe should be read: All these hold witnesses I cannot err. i. e. all these continue to testify that I cannot err, and tell me, &c. Warburton. The old reading is the true one, as well as the most poetical. The words I cannot err, should be thrown into a parenthesis. By old witnesses I believe he means experienced, accustom'd ones, which are therefore less likely to err. So in the Tempest: “If these be true spies that I wear in my head, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 458 5Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,] This is one of Shakespeare's oversights. The abbess has not so much as hinted at the shipwreck. Perhaps, indeed, this and the next speech should change places. Steevens.

Note return to page 459 6Twenty-five years&lblank;] In former editions: Thirty-three years. 'Tis impossible the poet could be so forgetful, as to design this number here: and therefore I have ventured to alter it to twenty-five, upon a proof, that, I think, amounts to demonstration. The number, I presume, was at first wrote in figures, and, perhaps, blindly; and thence the mistake might arise. Ægeon, in the first scene of the first act, is precise as to the time his son left him, in quest of his brother: My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother, &c. And how long it was from the son's thus parting from his father, to their meeting again at Ephesus, where Ægeon, mistakenly, recognizes the twin-brother, for him, we as precisely learn from another passage in the fifth act: Æge. But seven years since, in Syracusa-bay, Thou knowest we parted; so that these two numbers, put together, settle the date of their birth beyond dispute. Theobald.

Note return to page 460 7&lblank; and go with me;] We should read: &lblank; and gaude with me; i. e. rejoice, from the French, gaudir. Warburton. The sense is clear enough without the alteration. The Revisal offers to read, more plausibly, I think: &lblank; joy with me. Dr. Warburton's conjecture may, however, be countenanced by the following passage in Acolastus a comedy, 1529:—“I have good cause to set the cocke on the hope, and make gaudye chere.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra, act III: “Let's have one other gaudy night.” In the novel of M. Alberto of Bologna, the author adviseth gentlewomen “to beware how they contrive their holyday talke, by waste wordes issuing forth their delicate mouths in carping, gauding, and jesting at young gentlemen, and speciallye olde men, &c.” Palace of Pleasure, 1582. T. 1. fol. 60. Steevens.

Note return to page 461 8After so long grief, such nativity!] We should surely read: After so long grief, such festivity. Nativity lying so near, and the termination being the same of both words, the mistake was easy. Johnson. The old reading may be right. She has just said, that to her, her sons were not born till now. Steevens.

Note return to page 462 9In this comedy we find more intricacy of plot than distinction of character; and our attention is less forcibly engaged, because we can guess in great measure how the denoüement will be brought about. Yet the poet seems unwilling to part with his subject, even in this last and unnecessary scene, where the same mistakes are continued, till their power of affording entertaiment is entirely lost. Steevens.

Note return to page 463 The story is from Ariosto, Orl. Fur. b. v. Pope. It is true, as Mr. Pope has observed, that somewhat resembling the story of this play is to be found in the fifth book of the Orlando Furioso. In Spenser's Faery Queen, b. ii. c. 4. as remote an original may be traced. A novel, however, of Belleforest, copied from another of Bandello, seems to have furnished Shakespeare with his fable, as it approaches nearer in all its particulars to the play before us, than any other performance known to be extant. I have seen so many versions from this once popular collection, that I entertain no doubt but that the great majority [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 464 For the great majority, read, a great majority.

Note return to page 465 1Much Ado about Nothing.] Innogen, (the mother of Hero) in the oldest quarto that I have seen of this play, printed in 1600, is mentioned to enter in two several scenes. The succeeding editions have all continued her name in the Dramatis Personæ. But I have ventured to expunge it; there being no mention of her through the play, no one speech address'd to her, nor one syllable spoken by her. Neither is there any one passage, from which we have any reason to determine that Hero's mother was living. It seems, as if the poet had in his first plan design'd such a character: which, on a survey of it, he found would be superfluous; and therefore he left it out. Theobald. This play was entered at Stationers Hall, Aug. 23, 1600. Steevens.

Note return to page 466 2&lblank; of any sort,] Sort is rank. So in Chapman's version of the 16th book of Homer's Odyssey: “A ship, and in her many a man of sort.” Steevens.

Note return to page 467 3&lblank; joy could not shew itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness.] This is judiciously express'd. Of all the transports of joy, that which is attended with tears is least offensive; because, carrying with it this mark of pain, it allays the envy that usually attends another's happiness. This he finely calls a modest joy, such a one as did not insult the observer by an indication of happiness unmixed with pain. Warburton. Such another expression occurs in Chapman's version of the tenth book of the Odyssey: “&lblank; our eyes wore “The same wet badge of weak humanity.” This is an idea which Shakespeare seems to have been delighted to introduce. It occurs again in Macbeth: “&lblank; my plenteous joys “Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves “In drops of sorrow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 468 4&lblank; no faces truer] That is, none honester, none more sincere. Johnson.

Note return to page 469 5&lblank; is signior Montanto return'd &lblank;] Montante, in Spanish, is a huge two-handed sword, given, with much humour, to one, the speaker would represent as a boaster or bravado. Warburton. Montanto was one of the ancient terms of the fencing-school. So in Every Man in his Humour: “&lblank; your punto, your reverso, your stoccata, your imbrocata, your passada, your montanto, &c.” Again, in the Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 470 6&lblank; there was none such in the army of any sort.] Not meaning there was none such of any order or degree whatever, but that there was none such of any quality above the common. Warburton.

Note return to page 471 7He set up his bills &c.] In B. Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour, Shift says: “This is rare, I have set up my bills without discovery.” Again, in Swetnam Arraign'd, 1620: “I have bought foils already, set up bills, “Hung up my two-hand sword, &c.” Again, in Nash's Have with you to Saffron Walden &c. 1596: “&lblank; setting up bills like a bearward or fencer, what fights we shall have, and what weapons she will meet me at.” Beatrice means, that Benedick published a general challenge, like a prize-fighter. Steevens.

Note return to page 472 8&lblank; challenged Cupid at the flight:] The disuse of the bow makes this passage obscure. Benedick is represented as challenging Cupid at archery. To challenge at the flight is, I believe, to wager who shall shoot the arrow farthest without any particular mark. To challenge at the bird-bolt, seems to mean the same as to challenge at children's archery, with small arrows, such as are discharged at birds. In Twelfth-Night Lady Olivia opposes a bird-bolt to a cannot-bullet, the lightest to the heaviest of missive weapons. Johnson. To challenge at the flight, was a challenge to shoot with an arrow. Flight means an arrow, as may be proved from the following lines in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca: “&lblank; not the quick rack swifter; “The virgin from the hated ravisher “Not half so fearful: not a flight drawn home, “A round stone from a sling. &lblank;” So, in A Woman kill'd with Kindness, 1617: “We have tied our geldings to a tree, two flight-shot off.” Again, in Middleton's Game of Chess, 1625: “Who, as they say, discharg'd it like a flight.” Again, in the Entertainment at Causome House, &c. 1613: “&lblank; it being from the park about two flight-shots in length.” But it is apparent from the following passage in the Civil Wars of Daniel, b. viii. ft. 15. that a flight was not used to signify an arrow in general, but some particular kind of arrow; I believe one of an unusual length: “&lblank; and assign'd “The archers their flight-shafts to shoot away; “Which th' adverse side (with sleet and dimness blind, “Mistaken in the distance of the way) “Answer with their sheaf-arrows, that came short “Of their intended aim, and did no hurt.” Holinshed makes the same distinction in his account of the same occurrence, and adds, that these flights were provided on purpose. Again, in Holinshed, p. 649.—“He caused the soldiers to shoot their flights towards the lord Audlies company.” Mr. Tollet observes, that the length of a flight-shot seems ascertained by a passage in Leland's Itinerary, 1769, vol. iv. p. 44. “The passage into it at ful se is a flite-shot over, as much as the Tamise is above the bridge.”—It were easy to know the length of London-Bridge, and Stowe's Survey may inform the curious reader whether the river has been narrowed by embanking since the days of Leland. The bird-bolt is a short thick arrow without point, and spreading at the extremity so much, as to leave a flat surface, about the breadth of a shilling. Such are to this day in use to kill rooks with, and are shot from a cross-bow. So, in Marston's What You Will, 1607: “&lblank; ignorance should shoot “His gross-knobb'd bird-bolt. &lblank;” Again, in Love in a Maze, 1632: “&lblank; Cupid, “Pox of his bird-bolt! Venus, “Speak to thy boy to fetch his arrow back, “Or strike her with a sharp one!” Steevens. He challenged Cupid at the flight, and my uncle's fool challenged him at the bird-bolt.] The flight was an arrow of a particular kind:—In the Harleian Catalogue of MSS. vol. i. n. 69. is “a challenge of the lady Maiee's servants to all comers, to be performed at Greenwiche—to shoot standart arrow, or flight.” I find the title-page of an old pamphlet still more explicit. “A new post—a marke exceeding necessary for all mens arrows: whether the great man's flight, the gallant's rover, the wiseman's pricke-shaft, the poor man's but-shaft, or the fool's bird-bolt.” Farmer. The flight, which in the Latin of the middle ages was called flecta, was a fleet arrow with narrow feathers, usually employed against rovers. See Blount's Ancient Tenures, 1679. Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0225

Note return to page 473 9&lblank; he'll be meet with you,] This is a very common expression in the midland counties, and signifies he'll be your match, he'll be even with you. So in &grT;&grE;&grX;&grN;&grO;&grG;&grA;&grM;&grI;&grA;, by B. Holiday, 1618: “Go meet her, or else she'll be meet with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 474 1stuff'd with all honourable virtues.] Stuff'd, in this first instance, has no ridiculous meaning. Mr. Edwards observes that Mede, in his Discourses on Scripture, speaking of Adam, says, “—he would God had stuffed with so many excellent qualities.” Edwards's MS. Again, in the Winter's Tale: “&lblank; whom you know “Of stuff'd sufficiency.” Steevens.

Note return to page 475 2&lblank; he is no less than a stuff'd man: but for the stuffing well,—we are all mortal.] Mr. Theobald plumed himself much on the pointing of this passage; which, by the way, he might learn from Davenant: but he says not a word, nor any one else that I know of, about the reason of this abruption. The truth is, Beatrice starts an idea at the words stuff'd man; and prudently checks herself in the pursuit of it. A stuff'd man was one of the many cant phrases for a cuckold. In Lilly's Midas, we have an inventory of Motto's moveables.—“Item, says Petulus, one paire of hornes in the bride-chamber on the bed's head.—The beast's head, observes Licio; for Motto is stuff'd in the head, and these are among unmoveable goods.” Farmer.

Note return to page 476 3&lblank; four of his five wits &lblank;] In our author's time wit was the general term for intellectual powers. So, Davies on the Soul: “Wit, seeking truth from cause to cause ascends,   “And never rests till it the first attain; “Will, seeking good, finds many middle ends,   “But never stays till it the last do gain.” And, in another part: “But a phrenzy do possess the brain,   “It so disturbs and blots the form of things, “As fantasy proves altogether vain,   “And to the wit no true relation brings. “Then doth the wit, admitting all for true,   “Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds;” &lblank; The wits seem to have been reckoned five, by analogy to the five senses, or the five inlets of ideas. Johnson.

Note return to page 477 4wit enough to keep himself warm,] But how would that make a difference between him and his horse? We should read, Wit enough to keep himself from harm. This suits the satirical turn of her speech, in the character she would give of Benedick; and this would make the difference spoken of. For 'tis the nature of horses, when wounded, to run upon the point of the weapon. Warburton. Such a one has wit enough to keep himself warm, is a proverbial expression, and there is surely no need of change. So in the Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638: “You are the wise woman, are you? and have wit to keep yourself warm enough, I warrant you.” Again, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “&lblank; your whole self cannot but be perfectly wise; for your hands have wit enough to keep themselves warm.” An attempt to refute the reasoning of Dr. Warburton, would be loss of time and labour. To bear any thing for a difference, is a term in heraldry. So, in Hamlet, Ophelia says: “&lblank; you may wear yours with a difference. Steevens.

Note return to page 478 5&lblank; he wears his faith &lblank;] Not religious profession, but profession of friendship; for the speaker gives it as the reason of her asking, who was now his companion? that he had every month a new sworn brother. Warburton.

Note return to page 479 6&lblank; with the next block.] A block is the mould on which a hat is formed. So in Decker's Satiromastix: “Of what fashion is this knight's wit? of what block?” See a note on K. Lear, act IV. sc. vi. The old writers sometimes use the word block, for the hat itself. Steevens.

Note return to page 480 7&lblank; the gentleman is not in your books.] This is a phrase used, I believe, by more than understand it. To be in one's books is to be in one's codicils or will, to be among friends set down for legacies. Johnson. I rather think that the books alluded to, are memorandum-books, like the visiting-books of the present age: so, in Decker's Honest Where, and Part, 1630: “I am sure her name was in my Table-Book once.” Or, perhaps, the allusion is to matriculation at the university, So in Aristippus, or the Jovial Philosopher, 1630: “You must be matriculated, and have your name recorded in Albo Academiæ.” Again,—“What have you enrolled him in Albo? Have you fully admitted him into the Society?—to be a member of the body academie?” Again, “And if I be not entred, and have my name admitted into some of their books, let, &c.” And yet I think the following passage in the Maid's Revenge, by Shirley, 1639, will sufficiently support my first supposition: “Pox of your compliment, you were best not write in her Table-Books.” It appears to have been anciently the custom to chronicle the small beer of every occurrence, whether literary or domestic, in these Table-books. So, in the play last quoted: “Devolve itself!—that word is not in my Table-Books.” Hamlet, likewise, has—“my tables, &c.” Again, in the Whore of Babylon, 1607: “&lblank; Campeius!—Babylon “His name hath in her Tables.” Again, in Acolastus, a Comedy, 1529: “&lblank; We weyl haunse thee, or set thy name into our felowship boke, with clappynge of handes, &c.” I know not exactly to what custom this last quoted passage refers, unless to the album; for just after, the same expression occurs again: that “&lblank; from henceforthe thou may'st have a place worthy for thee in our whyte: from hence thou may'st have thy name written in our boke.” It should seem from the following passage in the Taming of a Shrew, that this phrase might have originated from the Herald's Office: “A herald, Kate! oh, put me in thy books!” After all, the following note in one of the Harleian MSS. No 847, may be the best illustration: “W. C. to Henry Fradsham, Gent. the owener of this book; “Some write their fantasies in verse “In theire bookes where they friendshippe shewe, “Wherein oft tymes they doe rehearse “The great good will that they do owe, &c.” Steevens. The gentleman is not in your books.] This phrase has not been exactly interpreted. To be in a man's books, originally meant to be in the list of his retainers. Sir John Mandevile tells us, “alle the mynstrelles that comen before the great Chan ben witholden with him, as of his houshold, and entred in his bookes, as for his own men.” Farmer. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0226

Note return to page 481 8young squarer &lblank;] A squarer I take to be a cholerick, quarrelsome fellow, for in this sense Shakespeare uses the word to square. So, in the Midsummer Night's Dream it is said of Oberon and Titania, that they never meet but they square. So the sense may be, Is there no hot-blooded youth that will keep him company through all his mad pranks? Johnson.

Note return to page 482 9You embrace your charge &lblank;] That is, your burthen, your incumbrance. Johnson.

Note return to page 483 1&lblank; such food to feed it, as signior Benedick?] A kindred thought occurs in Coriolanus, act II. sc. i: “Our very priests must become mockers, if they encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are.” Steevens.

Note return to page 484 2I thank you:] The poet has judiciously marked the gloominess of Don John's character, by making him averse to the common forms of civility. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 485 3&lblank; to tell us, Cupid is a good hare-finder, &c.] I know not whether I conceive the jest here intended. Claudio hints his love of Hero. Benedick asks whether he is serious, or whether he only means to jest, and tell them that Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter. A man praising a pretty lady in jest, may shew the quick sight of Cupid, but what has it to do with the carpentry of Vulcan? Perhaps the thought lies no deeper than this, Do you mean to tell us as new what we all know already? Johnson. I believe no more is meant by those ludicrous expressions than this.—Do you mean, says Benedick, to amuse us with improbable stories? An ingenious correspondent, whose signature is R. W. explains the passage in the same sense, but more amply. “Do you mean to tell us that love is not blind, and that fire will not consume what is combustible?”&lblank; for both these propositions are implied in making Cupid a good hare-finder, and Vulcan (the God of fire) a good carpenter. In other words, would you convince me, whose opinion on this head is well known, that you can be in love without being blind, and can play with the flame of beauty without being scorched. Steevens. I explain the passage thus: Do you scoff and mock in telling us the Cupid, who is blind, is a good hare-finder, which requires a quick eyesight; and that Vulcan, a blacksmith, is a rare carpenter? Tollet. &lblank; After such attempts at decent illustration, I am afraid that he who wishes to know why Cupid is a good hare-finder, must discover it by the assistance of many quibbling allusions of the same sort, about hair and hoar, in Mercutio's song in the second act of Romeo and Juliet. Collins.

Note return to page 486 4&lblank; to go in the song.] i. e. to join with you in your song. —to strike in with you in the song. Steevens.

Note return to page 487 5&lblank; wear his cap with suspicion?] That is, subject his head to the disquiet of jealousy. Johnson.

Note return to page 488 6&lblank; sigh away sundays.] A proverbial expression to signify that a man has no rest at all; when Sunday, a day formerly of ease and diversion, was passed so uncomfortably. Warburton. I cannot find this proverbial expression in any ancient book whatever. I am apt to believe that the learned commentator has mistaken the drift of it, and that it most probably alludes to the strict manner in which the sabbath was observed by the puritans, who usually spent that day in sighs and gruntings, and other hypocritical marks of devotion. Steevens.

Note return to page 489 7Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered.] This and the three next speeches I do not well understand; there seems something omitted relating to Hero's consent, or to Claudio's marriage, else I know not what Claudio can wish not to be otherwise. The copies all read alike. Perhaps it may be better thus, Claud. If this were so, so were it. Bene. Uttered like the old tale, &c. Claudio gives a sullen answer, if it is so, so it is. Still there seems something omitted which Claudio and Pedro concur in wishing. Johnson. Claudio, evading at first a confession of his passion, says; if I had really confided such a secret to him, yet he would have blabbed it in this manner. In his next speech, he thinks proper to avow his love; and when Benedick says, God forbid it should be so, i. e. God forbid he should even wish to marry her; Claudio replies—God forbid I should not wish it. Steevens.

Note return to page 490 2&lblank; but in the force of his will.] Alluding to the definition of a heretick in the schools. Warburton.

Note return to page 491 3&lblank; but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead,] That is, I will wear a horn on my forehead which the huntsman may blow. A recheate is the sound by which dogs are called back. Shakespeare had no mercy upon the poor cuckold, his horn is an inexhaustible subject of merriment. Johnson. So, in the Return from Parnassus: “&lblank; When you blow the death of your fox in the field or covert, then you must sound three notes, with three winds; and recheat, mark you, sir, upon the same three winds.” “Now, sir, when you come to your stately gate, as yon sounded the recheat before, so now you must sound the relief three times.” Again, in the Booke of Huntynge, &c. bl. l. no date. “Blow the whole rechate with three wyndes, the first wynde one longe and six shorte. The seconde wynde two shorte and one longe. The thred wynde one longe and two shorte.” Steevens. A recheate is a particular lesson upon the horn, to call dogs back from the scent: from the old French word recet, which was used in the same sense as retraite. Hanmer.

Note return to page 492 4&lblank; hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick,] Bulge, i. e. bugle-horn—hunting-horn. The meaning seems to be—or that I should be compell'd to carry any horn that I must wish to remain invisible, and that I should be ashamed to hang openly in my belt or baldrick. It is still said of the mercenary cuckold, that he carries his horns in his pockets. Steevens.

Note return to page 493 5notable argument.] An eminent subject for satire. Johnson.

Note return to page 494 6in a bottle like a cat,] As to the cat and bottle, I can procure no better information than the following, which does not exactly suit with the text. In some counties of England, a cat was formerly closed up with a quantity of soot in a wooden bottle, (such as that in which shepherds carry their liquor) and was suspended on a line. He who beat out the bottom as he ran under it, and was nimble enough to escape its contents, was regarded as the hero of this inhuman diversion. Steevens.

Note return to page 495 7and he that hits me, let him be clap'd on the shoulder, and call'd Adam.] But why should he therefore be call'd Adam? Perhaps, by a quotation or two we may be able to trace the poet's allusion here. In Law-Tricks, or, Who would have Thought it, (a comedy written by John Day, and printed in 1608) I find this speech: Adam Bell, a substantial outlaw, and a passing good archer, yet no tobacconist.—By this it appears, that Adam Bell at that time of day was of reputation for his skill at the bow. I find him again mentioned in a burlesque poem of sir William Davenant's, called, The long Vacation in London. Theobald. Adam Bell was a companion of Robin Hood, as may be seen in Robin Hood's Garland; in which, if I do not mistake, are these lines: “For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clough,   “And William of Cloudeslee, “To shoot with our forester for forty mark,   “And our forester beat them all three.” Johnson. The curious reader will find an account of these noted outlaws in the first volume of Dr. Percy's Reliques of ancient English Poetry. Steevens.

Note return to page 496 8In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.] This line is taken from the Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronymo, &c. 1605. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0227

Note return to page 497 9if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice,] All modern writers agree in representing Venice in the same light as the ancients did Cyprus. And it is this character of the people that is here alluded to. Warburton.

Note return to page 498 1&lblank; guarded with fragments,] Guards were ornamental laces or borders. So in the Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; give him a livery “More guarded than his fellows.” Again, in Henry IV. Part I. “&lblank; velvet guards and sunday citizens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 2ere you stout old ends &c.] Before you endeavour to distinguish yourself any more by antiquated allusions, examine whether you can fairly claim them for your own. This, I think is the meaning; or it may be understood in another sense, examine, if your sarcasms do not touch yourself. Johnson.

Note return to page 500 3The fairest grant is the necessity:] i.e. no one can have a better reason for granting a request than the necessity of its being granted. Warburton.

Note return to page 501 4&lblank; a thick-pleached alley] Thick-pleached is thickly interwoven. In Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; with pleached arms, bending down “His corrigible neck.” Steevens.

Note return to page 502 5What the good-jer, my lord!] We should read, goujere. Steevens.

Note return to page 503 6I cannot hide what I am:] This is one of our authour's natural touches. An envious and unsocial mind, too proud to give pleasure, and too sullen to receive it, always endeavours to hide its malignity from the world and from itself, under the plainness of simple honesty, or the dignity of haughty independence. Johnson.

Note return to page 504 7claw no man in his humour.] To claw is to flatter. So the pope's claw-backs, in bishop Jewel, are the pope's flatterers. The sense is the same in the proverb, Mulus mulum scabit. Johnson.

Note return to page 505 8I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his grace;] A canker is the canker rose, dog-rose, cynosbatus, or hip. The sense is, I would rather live in obscurity the wild life of nature, than owe dignity or estimation to my brother. He still continues his wish of gloomy independence. But what is the meaning of the expression, a rose in his grace? if he was a rose of himself, his brother's grace or favour could not degrade him. I once read thus, I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose in his garden; that is, I had rather be what nature makes me, however mean, than owe any exaltation or improvement to my brother's kindness or cultivation. But a less change will be sufficient: I think it should be read, I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a rose by his grace. Johnson. So, in Heywood's Love's Mistress, 1636: “A rose, a lily, a blew-bottle, and a canker-flower.” Again, in Shakespeare's 54th Sonnet: “The canker blooms have full as deep a die “As the perfumed tincture of the rose.” I think no change is necessary. Steevens.

Note return to page 506 9in sad conference:] Sad in this, as in a former instance, signifies serious. Steevens.

Note return to page 507 1&lblank; both sure,] i.e. to be depended on. Steevens.

Note return to page 508 2heart-burn'd an hour after.] The pain commonly called the heart-burn, proceeds from an acid humour in the stomach, and is therefore properly enough imputed to tart looks. Johnson.

Note return to page 509 3in woollen.] Thus the modern editors. The old copies read —in the woollen. Steevens.

Note return to page 510 4Well then, &c.] Of the two next speeches Dr. Warburton says, All this impious nonsense thrown to the bottom, is the players', and foisted in without rhyme or reason. He therefore puts them in the margin. They do not deserve indeed so honourable a place, yet I am afraid they are too much in the manner of our authour, who is sometimes trying to purchase merriment at too dear a rate. Johnson. I have restored the lines omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 511 6if the prince be too important,] Important here, and in many other places, is importunate. Johnson. So, in the Comedy of Errors: “Whom I made lord of me and all I had, “At your important letters &lblank;”. Steevens.

Note return to page 512 7Balthazar,] The quarto and folio add—or dumb John. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0232

Note return to page 513 8My visor is Philemon's roof, within the house is love.] Thus the whole stream of the copies, from the first downwards. Hero says to Don Pedro, God forbid the lute should be like the case! i.e. that your face should be as homely and as coarse as your mask. Upon this, Don Pedro compares his visor to Philemon's roof. 'Tis plain, the poet alludes to the story of Baucis and Philemon from Ovid: and this old couple, as the Roman poet describes it, liv'd in a thatch'd cottage: “&lblank; Stipulis & canna tecta palustri.” But why, within this house is love? Though this old pair lived in a cottage, this cottage received two straggling Gods, (Jupiter and Mercury) under its roof. So, Don Pedro is a prince; and though his visor is but ordinary, he would insinuate to Hero, that he has something godlike within: alluding either to his dignity or the qualities of his person and mind. By these circumstances, I am sure, the thought is mended: as, I think verily, the text is too by the addition of a single letter—within the house is Jove. Nor is this emendation a little confirmed by another passage in our author, in which he plainly alludes to the same story. As you Like it. “Clown. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was amongst the Goths. “Jaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch'd house!” Theobald. This emendation, thus impressed with all the power of his eloquence and reason, Theobald found in the quarto edition of 1600, which he professes to have seen; and in the first folio, the l and the I are so much alike, that the printers, perhaps, used the same type for either letter. Johnson.

Note return to page 514 9Pedro. Speak low, &c.] This speech, which is given to Pedro, should be given to Margaret. Revisal.

Note return to page 515 1Balth. Well, I would you did like me.] This and the two following little speeches, which I have placed to Balthazar, are in all the printed copies given to Benedick. But, 'tis clear, the dialogue here ought to be betwixt Balthazar and Margaret: Benedick, a little lower, converses with Beatrice: and so every man talks with his woman once round. Theobald.

Note return to page 516 2amen.] I do not concur with Theobald in his arbitrary disposition of these speeches. Balthazar is called in the old copies dumb John, as I have already observed; and therefore it should seem, that he was meant to speak but little. When Benedick says, the hearers may cry, amen, we must suppose that he leaves Margaret and goes in search of some other sport. Margaret utters a wish for a good partner. Balthazar, who is represented as a man of the fewest words, repeats Benedick's Amen, and leads her off, desiring, as he says in the following short speech, to put himself to no greater expence of breath. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0233

Note return to page 517 3&lblank; his dry hand.] A dry hand was anciently regarded as the sign of a cold constitution. To this Maria, in Twelfth-Night, alludes: Act I. sc. iii. Steevens.

Note return to page 518 4Hundred merry Tales;] The book, to which Shakespeare alludes, was an old translation of Les cent Nouvelles Nouvelles. The original was published at Paris, in the black letter, before the year 1500, and is said to have been written by some of the royal family of France. Ames mentions a translation of it prior to the time of Shakespeare. In the London Chaunticleres, 1659, this work, among others, is cry'd for sale by a ballad-man. “The Seven Wise Men of Gotham; a Hundred Merry Tales; Scoggin's Jests, &c.” Again, in the Nice Valour, &c. by B. and Fletcher: “&lblank; the Almanacs, “The Hundred Novels, and the Books of Cookery.” Of this collection there are frequent entries in the register of the Stationers' Company. The first I met with was in Jan. 1581. Steevens.

Note return to page 519 5his gift is in devising impossible slanders:] We should read impassible, i.e. slanders so ill invented, that they will pass upon no body. Warburton. Impossible slanders are, I suppose, such slanders as, from their absurdity and impossibility, bring their own confutation with them. Johnson.

Note return to page 520 6his villainy;] By which she means his malice and impiety. By his impious jests, she insinuates, he pleased libertines; and by his devising slanders of them, he angered them. Warburton.

Note return to page 521 7&lblank; his bearing.] i.e. his carriage, his demeanour. So in Measure for Measure: “How I may formally in person bear me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 522 8&lblank; beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.] i. e. as wax when opposed to the fire kindled by a witch, no longer preserves the figure of the person whom it was designed to represent, but flows into a shapeless lump; so fidelity, when confronted with beauty, dissolves into our ruling passion, and is lost there like a drop of water in the sea. Steevens.

Note return to page 523 9usurer's chain?] I know not whether the chain was, in our authour's time, the common ornament of wealthy citizens, or whether he satirically uses usurer and alderman as synonymous terms. Johnson. Usury seems about this time to have been a common topic of invective. I have three or four dialogues, pasquils, and discourses on the subject, printed before the year 1600. From every one of these it appears, that the merchants were the chief usurers of the age. Steevens.

Note return to page 524 1it is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice, who puts the world into her person,] That is, It is the disposition of Beatrice, who takes upon her to personate the world, and therefore represents the world as saying what she only says herself. Base, though bitter, I do not understand how base and bitter are inconsistent, or why what is bitter should not be base. I believe, we may safely read, It is the base, the bitter disposition. Johnson. The base though bitter, may mean the ill-natur'd though witty. Steevens.

Note return to page 525 2as melancholy as a lodge in a warren;] A parallel thought occurs in the first chapter of Isaiah, where the prophet, describing the desolation of Judah, says: “The daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, &c.” I am informed, that near Aleppo, these lonely buildings are still made use of, it being necessary, that the fields where watermelons, cucumbers, &c. are raised, should be regularly watched. Steevens.

Note return to page 526 3of this young lady;] Benedick speaks of Hero as if she were on the stage. Perhaps, both she and Leonato, were meant to make their entrance with Don Pedro. When Beatrice enters, she is spoken of as coming in with only Claudio. Steevens.

Note return to page 527 4such impossible conveyance,] We should read impassable. A term taken from fencing, when the strokes are so swift and repeated, as not to be parried or passed off. Warburton. I know not what to propose. Impossible seems to have no meaning here, and for impassable I have not found any authority. Spenser uses the word importable in a sense very congruous to this passage, for insupportable, or not to be sustained:   “Both him charge on either side, “With hideous strokes and importable power,   “Which forced him his ground to traverse wide.” It may be easily imagined, that the transcribers would change a word so unusual, into that word most like it, which they could readily find. It must be however confessed, that importable appears harsh to our ears, and I wish a happier critick may find a better word. Sir Tho. Hanmer reads impetuous, which will serve the purpose well enough, but it is not likely to have been changed to impossible. Importable was a word not peculiar to Spenser, but used by the last translators of the Apocrypha, and therefore such a word as Shakespeare may be supposed to have written. Johnson. Importable is very often used by Lidgate in his Prologue to the translation of The Tragedies gathered by Ihon Bochas, &c. as well as by Holinshed. Impossible may be licentiously used for unaccountable. Beatrice has already said, that Benedick invents impossible slanders. So, in The Fair Maid of the Inn, by B. and Fletcher: “You would look for some most impossible antick.” Again, in The Roman Actor, by Massinger: “&lblank; to lose “Ourselves, by building on impossible hopes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 528 5the infernal Até in good apparel.] This is a pleasant allusion to the custom of ancient poets and painters, who represent the furies in rags. Warburton. Até is not one of the furies, but the goddess of revenge. Steevens.

Note return to page 529 6bring you the length of Prester John's foot: fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard:] i. e. I will undertake the hardest task, rather than have any conversation with lady Beatrice. Alluding to the difficulty of access to either of those monarchs, but more particularly to the former. So Cartwright, in his comedy call'd The Siege, or Love's Convert, 1641: “&lblank; bid me take the Parthian king by the beard: or draw an eye-tooth from the jaw royal of the Persian monarch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 530 7&lblank; my lady Tongue.] Thus the quarto 1600. The folio reads—this lady tongue. Steevens.

Note return to page 531 8of that jealous complexion.] Thus the quarto 1600. The folio reads, of a jealous complexion. Steevens.

Note return to page 532 9Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd;] What is it, to go to the world? perhaps, to enter by marriage into a settled state; but why is the unmarry'd lady sun-burnt? I believe we should read, Thus goes every one to the wood but I, and I am sun-burnt. Thus does every one but I find a shelter, and I am left exposed to wind and sun. The nearest way to the wood, is a phrase for the readiest means to any end. It is said of a woman, who accepts a worse match than those which she had refused, that she has passed through the wood, and at last taken a crooked stick. But conjectural criticism has always something to abate its confidence. Shakespeare, in All's well that Ends well, uses the phrase, to go to the world, for marriage. So that my emendation depends only on the opposition of wood to sun-burnt. Johnson. I am sun-burnt may mean, I have lost my beauty, and am consequently no longer such an object as can tempt a man to marry. Steevens.

Note return to page 533 9she hath often dream'd of unhappiness,] So all the editions; but Mr. Theobaldalters it to, an happiness, having no conception that unhappiness meant any thing but misfortune, and that, he thinks, she could not laugh at. He had never heard that it signified a wild, wanton, unlucky trick. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in their comedy of the Maid of the Mill: “&lblank; My dreams are like my thoughts, honest and innocent: “Yours are unhappy.” Warburton.

Note return to page 534 1to bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other.] A mountain of affection with one another is a strange expression, yet I know not well how to change it. Perhaps it was originally written, to bring Benedick and Beatrice into a mooting of affection; to bring them not to any more mootings of contention, but to a mooting or conversation of love. This reading is confirmed by the preposition with; a mountain with each other, or affection with each other, cannot be used, but a mooting with each other is proper and regular. Johnson. Uncommon as the word proposed by Dr. Johnson may appear, it is used in several of the old plays. So in Glapthorne's Wit in a Constable, 1639: “&lblank; one who never “Had mooted in the hall, or seen the revels “Kept in the house at Christmas.” Again, in the Return from Parnassus, 1606: “It is a plain case whereon I mooted in our temple.” Again, “&lblank; at a mooting in our temple.” Ibid. And yet all that I believe is meant by a mountain of affection is, a great deal of affection. In one of Stanyburst's poems, is the following phrase to denote a large quantity of love: “Lumps of love promist, nothing performed, &c.” Again, in the Renegado, by Massinger: “&lblank; 'tis but parting with “A mountain of vexation.” Thus in K. Hen. VIII. “a sea of glory.” In Hamlet, “a sea of troubles.” Again, in Howel's Hist. of Venice: “though they see mountains of miseries heaped on one's back.” Again, in Bacon's Hist of K. Hen. VII. “Perkin sought to corrupt the servants to the lieutenant of the tower by mountains of promises.” Again, in the Comedy of Errors: “&lblank; the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me.” Little can be inferr'd from Shakespeare's offence against grammar. Mr. Malone observes, that “Shakespeare has many phrases equally harsh. He who would hazard such expressions as a storm of fortunes, a vale of years, and a tempest of provocation, would not scruple to write a mountain of affection.” Steevens.

Note return to page 535 3Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro, and the count Claudio, alone; tell them that you know Hero loves me;— Offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding.] Thus the whole stream of the editions from the first quarto downwards. I am obliged here to give a short account of the plot depending, that the emendation I have made may appear the more clear and unquestionable. The business stands thus: Claudio, a favourite of the Arragon prince, is, by his intercessions with her father, to be married to fair Hero; Don John, natural brother of the prince, and a hater of Claudio, is in his spleen zealous to disappoint the match. Borachio, a rascally dependant on Don John, offers his assistance, and engages to break off the marriage by this stratagem. “Tell the prince and Claudio (says he) that Hero is in love with me; they won't believe it: offer them proofs, as, that they shall see me converse with her in her chamber-window. I am in the good graces of her waiting-woman Margaret; and I'll prevail with Margaret, at a dead hour of night to personate her mistress Hero: do you then bring the prince and Claudio to overhear our discourse; and they shall have the torment to hear me address Margaret by the name of Hero; and her say sweet things to me by the name of Claudio.” —This is the substance of Borachio's device to make Hero suspected of disloyalty, and to break off her match with Claudio. But, in the name of common sense, could it displease Claudio, to hear his mistress making use of his name tenderly? If he saw another man with her, and heard her call him Claudio, he might reasonably think her betrayed, but not have the same reason to accuse her of disloyalty. Besides, how could her naming Claudio, make the prince and Claudio believe that she lov'd Borachio, as he desires Don John to insinuate to them that she did? The circumstances weighed, there is no doubt but the passage ought to be reformed, as I have settled it in the text—hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio. Theobald. I am not convinced that this exchange is necessary. Claudio would naturally resent the circumstance of hearing another called by his own name; because, in that case, baseness of treachery would appear to be aggravated by wantonness of insult: and, at the same time he would imagine the person so distinguish'd to be Borachio, because Don John was previously to have informed both him and Don Pedro, that Borachio was the favoured lover. Steevens.

Note return to page 536 4&lblank; carving the fashion of a new doublet.] This folly, so conspicuous in the gallants of former ages, is laughed at by all our comic writers. So in Greene's Farewell to Folly, 1617: “&lblank; We are almost as fantastic as the English gentleman that is painted naked, with a pair of sheers in his hand, as not being resolved after what fashion to have his coat cut.” Steevens.

Note return to page 537 5&lblank; orthographer.] The old copies read—orthography. Steevens.

Note return to page 538 6&lblank; and her hair shall be of what colour it please &c.] Perhaps Benedick alludes to a fashion, very common in the time of Shakespeare, that of dying the hair. Stubbs, in his Anatomy of Abuses, 1595, speaking of the attires of women's heads, says: “If any have haire of her owne, naturall growing, which is not faire ynough, then will they die it in divers collours. Steevens.

Note return to page 539 7Pedro. See where Benedick hath hid himself? Claudio. Very well, my lord: the musick ended, we'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.] i. e. we will be even with the fox now discovered. So the word kid, or kidde, signifies in Chaucer: “The sothfastness that now is hid, “Without coverture shall be kid “When I undoen have this dreming.” Romaunt of the Rose, 2171, &c. “Perceiv'd or shew'd. “He kidde anon his bone was not broken.” Troilus and Cresseide, lib. i. 208. “With that anon sterte out daungere, “Out of the place where he was hidde; “His malice in his cheere was kidde.” Romaunt of the Rose, 2130. Gray. It is not impossible but that Shakespeare chose on this occasion to employ an antiquated word; and yet if any future editor should chuse to read—hid fox, he may observe that Hamlet has said&lblank; “Hide fox and all after.” Steevens.

Note return to page 540 8&lblank; Stalk on, stalk on, the fowl sits.] This is an allusion to the stalking-horse; a horse either real or factitious, by which the fowler anciently shelter'd himself from the sight of the game. So, in the Honest Lawyer, 1616: “Lye there thou happy warranted case “Of any villain. Thou hast been my stalking-horse “Now these ten months.” Again, in the 25th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion; “One underneath his horse to get a shoot doth stalk.” Again, in his Muses Elysium: “Then underneath my horse, I stalk my game to strike.” Steevens. Stalk on, stalk on,] A metaphor taking from the practice of shooting with a stalking-horse. The meaning is, Let us steal nearer, that we may take the surer aim. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 541 9but, that she loves him, with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought.] It is impossible to make sense and grammar of this speech. And the reason is, that the two beginnings of two different sentences are jumbled together and made one. For— but that she loves him with an inraged affection—is only part of a sentence which should conclude thus,—is most certain. But a new idea striking the speaker, he leaves this sentence unfinished, and turns to another,—It is past the infinite of thought—which is likewise left unfinished; for it should conclude thus—to say how great that affection is. These broken disjointed sentences are usual in conversation. However there is one word wrong, which yet perplexes the sense, and that is infinite. Human thought cannot surely be called infinite with any kind of figurative propriety. I suppose the true reading was definite. This makes the passage intelligible. It is past the definite of thought—i. e. it cannot be defined or conceived how great that affection is. Shakespeare uses the word again in the same sense in Cymbeline: “For ideots, in this case of favour, would “Be wisely definite. &lblank;” i. e. could tell how to pronounce or determine in the case. Warburton. Here are difficulties raised only to shew how easily they can be removed. The plain sense is, I know not what to think otherwise, but that she loves him with an enraged affection: It (this affection) is past the infinite of thought. Here are no abrupt stops, or imperfect sentences. Infinite may well enough stand; it is used by more careful writers for indefinite: and the speaker only means, that thought, though in itself unbounded, cannot reach or estimate the degree of her passion. Johnson.

Note return to page 542 1O, she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence;] i. e. into a thousand pieces of the same bigness. This is farther explained by a passage in As You Like It: &lblank; “There were none principal; they were all like one another as half-pence are.” In both places the poet alludes to the old silver penny, which had a crease running cross-wise over it, so that it might be broke into two or four equal pieces, half-pence, or farthings. Theobald. How the quotation explains the passage, to which it is applied, I cannot discover. Johnson. A farthing, and perhaps a halfpenny, was used to signify any small particle or division. So, in the character of the Prioress in Chaucer: “That in hire cuppe was no ferthing sene “Of grese, whan she dronken hadde hire draught.” Prol. to the Cant. Tales, late edit. v. 135. Steevens.

Note return to page 543 2&lblank; have daff'd &lblank;] To daff is the same as to doff, to do off, to put aside. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; to doff their dire distresses.” Steevens.

Note return to page 544 3contemptible spirit.] That is, a temper inclined to scorn and contempt. It has been before remarked, that our author uses his verbal adjectives with great licence. There is therefore no need of changing the word with sir T. Hanmer to contemptuous. Johnson. In the argument to Darius, a tragedy, by lord Sterline, 1603, it is said, that Darius wrote to Alexander “in a proud and contemptible manner.” In this place contemptible certainly means contemptuous. Again, Drayton, in the 24th Song of his Polyolbion, speaking in praise of a hermit, says, that he, “The mad tumultuous world contemptibly forsook, “And to his quiet cell by Crowland him betook.” Steevens.

Note return to page 545 4was sadly borne.] i. e. was seriously carried on. So in Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “The king feigneth to talk sadly with some of his counsel.” So, in the Wise Woman of Hogsdon, 1638: “Marry, sir knight, I saw them in sad talk, but to say they were directly whispering, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 546 5Proposing with the prince and Claudio.] Proposing is conversing, from the French word—propos, discourse, talk. Steevens.

Note return to page 547 6&lblank; our propose.] Thus the quarto. The folio read—our purpose. Propose is right. See the preceding note. Steevens.

Note return to page 548 7&lblank; as haggards of the rock.] Turbervile, in his book of Falconry, 1575, tells us, that “the haggard doth come from foreign parts a stranger and a passenger;” and Latham, who wrote after him, says, that “she keeps in subjection the most part of all the fowl that fly, insomuch, that the tassel gentle, her natural and chiefest companion, dares not come near that coast where she useth, nor sit by the place where she standeth. Such is the greatness of her spirit, she will not admit of any society, until such a time as nature worketh, &c.” So, in The tragical History of Didaco and Violenta, 1576: “Perchaunce she's not of haggard's kind   “Nor heart so hard to bend, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 549 8&lblank; as full, &c.] A full bed means a rich wife. So in Othello: “What a full fortune doth the thick-lips owe? &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 550 9Misprising &lblank;] Despising, contemning. Johnson. To misprize is to undervalue, or take in a wrong light. Steevens.

Note return to page 551 1&lblank; spell him backward.] Alluding to the practice of witches in uttering prayers. Steevens.

Note return to page 552 2If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot: &lblank;] The antick was a buffoon character in the old English farces, with a blacked face, and a patch-work habit. What I would observe from hence is, that the name of antick or antique, given to this character, shews that the people had some traditional ideas of its being borrowed from the ancient mimes, who are thus described by Apuleius, “Mimi centunculo, fuligine faciem obducti.” Warburton.

Note return to page 553 3If low, an agat very vilely cut:] But why an agat, if low? For what likeness between a little man and an agat? The ancients, indeed, used this stone to cut upon; but very exquisitely. I make no question but the poet wrote: &lblank; an aglet very vilely cut: An aglet was the tag of those points, formerly so much in fashion. These tags were either of gold, silver, or brass, according to the quality of the wearer; and were commonly in the shape of little images; or at least had a head cut at the extremity. The French call them, aiguillettes. Mezeray, speaking of Henry IIId's sorrow for the death of the princess of Conti, says, “&lblank; portant meme sur les aiguillettes des petites tetes de mort.” And as a tall man is before compared to a lance ill-headed; so, by the same figure, a little man is very aptly liken'd to an aglet ill-cut. Warburton. The old reading is, I believe, the true one. Vilely cut does not mean aukwardly worked by a tool into shape, but grotesquely veined by nature as it grew. To this circumstance, I suppose, Drayton alludes in his Muses Elizium: “With th' agate, very oft that is   “Cut strangely in the quarry; “As nature meant to shew in this   “How she herself can vary.” Pliny mentions that the shapes of various beings are to be discovered in agates; and Mr. Addison has very elegantly compared Shakespeare, who was born with all the seeds of poetry, to the agate in the ring of Pyrrhus, which, as Pliny tells us, had the figure of Apollo and the nine Muses in the veins of it, produced by the spontaneous hand of nature, without any help from art. Steevens.

Note return to page 554 4&lblank; argument &lblank;] This word seems here to signify discourse, or, the powers of reasoning. Johnson.

Note return to page 555 5She's lim'd, &lblank;] She is ensnared and entangled as a sparrow with birdlime. Johnson. So, in the Spanish Tragedy: “Which sweet conceits are lim'd with sly deceits.” The folio reads—She's ta'en. Steevens.

Note return to page 556 6What fire is in mine ears? &lblank;] Alluding to a proverbial saying of the common people, that their ears burn, when others are talking of them. Warburton.

Note return to page 557 7Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;] This image is taken from falconry. She had been charged with being as wild as haggards of the rock; she therefore says, that wild as her heart is, she will tame it to the hand. Johnson.

Note return to page 558 8Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “As is the night before some festival, “To an impatient child, that hath new robes, “And may not wear them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 559 9the little hangman dare not shoot at him:] This character of Cupid came from the Arcadia of sir Philip Sidney:   “Millions of yeares this old drivell Cupid lives; “While still more wretch, more wicked he doth prove:   “Till now at length that Jove him office gives, “(At Juno's suite who much did Argus love)   “In this our world a hangman for to be   “Of all those fooles that will have all they see.” B. ii. ch. 14. Farmer.

Note return to page 560 1&lblank; as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; &c.] A covert allusion to the old proverb: “As the fool thinketh “So the bell clinketh.” Steevens.

Note return to page 561 2There is no appearance of fancy &c.] Here is a play upon the word fancy, which Shakespeare uses for love as well as for humour, caprice, or affectation. Johnson.

Note return to page 562 3&lblank; all slops.] Slops are loose breeches. So in Romeo and Juliet: “There's a French salutation for your French slop.” Again, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “St. Anthony's fire light in your Spanish slops.” Steevens.

Note return to page 563 4She shall be buried with her face upwards.] Thus the whole set of editions: but what is there any way particular in this? Are not all men and women buried so? Sure, the poet means, in opposition to the general rule, and by way of distinction, with her heels upwards, or face downwards. I have chosen the first reading, because I find it the expression in vogue in our author's time. Theobald. This emendation, which appears to me very specious, is rejected by Dr. Warburton. The meaning seems to be, that she who acted upon principles contrary to others, should be buried with the same contrariety. Johnson. Theobald's conjecture may, however, be supported by a passage in The Wild Goose Chace of B. and Fletcher: “&lblank; love cannot starve me; “For if I die o'th' first fit, I am unhappy, “And worthy to be buried with my heels upwards.” Dr. Johnson's explanation may likewise be countenanced by a passage in an old black letter book, without date, intitled, A merye Jest of a Man that was called Howleglas, &c. “How Howleglas was buried.” “Thus as Howleglas was deade, than they brought him to be buryed. And as they would have put the coffyn into the pytte wyth II cordes, the corde at the fete brake, so that the fote of the coffyn fell into the botome of the pyt, and the coffyn stood bolt upryght in the middes of the grave. Then desired ye people that stode about the grave that tyme, to let the coffyn to stande bolt upryght. For in his lyfe tyme he was a very marvelous man &c. and shall be buryed as marvailously; and in this maner they left Howleglas, &c.” That this book was once popular, may be inferr'd from Ben Jonson's frequent allusions to it. So, in his Poetaster: “What do you laugh, Owleglas?” Again, in the Fortunate Isles, a Masque: “&lblank; What do you think of Owlglas “Instead of him?”—And again, in the Sad Shepherd. This history was originally written in Dutch. The hero is there call'd Uyle-spegel. Under this title he is likewise introduced by Ben Jonson in his Alchymist, and the Masque and Pastoral already quoted. Menage speaks of Ulespiegle as a man famous for tromperies ingenieuses; adds that his Life was translated into French, and quotes the title-page of it, I have another copy published A Troyes, in 1714, the title of which differs from that set down by Menage. I think Shakespeare could hardly allude to a circumstance mentioned by Pliny the Naturalist, “&lblank; that the dead corps of a man floteth upon the water with the face upward, but contrary-wise women swimme groveling, &c.” Holland's Translation, p. 165. The passage, indeed, may mean only—She shall be buried in her lover's arms. So in The Winter's Tale. “Flo. What? like a corse? “Per. No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; “Not like a corse:—or if,—not to be buried, “But quick and in my arms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 564 5Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.] Dryden has transplanted this sarcasm into his All for Love: “Your Cleopatra; Dolabella's Cleopatra; every man's Cleopatra.” Steevens.

Note return to page 565 6Well, give them their charge,] To charge his fellows, seems to have been the regular [Subnote: for the regular, read, a regular.] part of the duty of the constable of the Watch. So, in A New Trick to cheat the Devil, 1639: “My watch is set—charge given—and all at peace.” Again, in The Insatiate Countess, by Marston, 1603: “Come on, my hearts; we are the city's security—I'll give you your charge.” Malone.

Note return to page 566 7no need of such vanity.] Dogberry is only absurd, not absolutely out of his senses. We should read therefore, more need. Warburton. I believe the blunder was intended, and therefore am not willing to admit the proposed emendation. Both the 4to 1600, and the first folio, concur in this reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 567 8bills be not stolen:] A bill is still carried by the watchmen at Litchfield. It was the old weapon of the English infantry, which, says Temple, gave the most ghastly and deplorable wounds. It may be called securis falcata. Johnson. These weapons are mentioned in Glapthorne's Wit in a Constable, 1639: “&lblank; Well said, neighbours; “You're chatting wisely o'er your bills and lanthorns, “As becomes watchmen of discretion.” Again, the same play: “&lblank; sit still, and keep “Your rusty bills from bloodshed. Again, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “&lblank; the watch “Are coming towr'd our house with glaives and bills.” The following are examples of ancient bills. Steevens.

Note return to page 568 9If you hear a child cry, &c.] It is not impossible but that part of this scene was intended as a burlesque on The Statutes of the Streets, imprinted by Wolfe, in 1595. Among these I find the following: 22. “No man shall blowe any horne in the night, within this cittie, or whistle after the houre of nyne of the clock in the night, under paine of imprisonment. 23. “No man shall use to goe with visoures, or disguised by night, under like pain of imprisonment. 24. “Made that night-walkers, and evisdroppers, like punishment. 25. “No hammar-man, as a smith, a pewterer, a founder, and all artificers making great sound, shall not worke after the houre of nyne at the night, &c.” 30. “No man shall, after the houre of nyne at night, keepe any rule, whereby any such suddaine out-cry be made in the still of the night, as making any affray, or beating his wyfe, or servant, or singing, or revyling in his house, to the disturbance of his neighbours, under payne of iii s. iiii d. &c. &c.” Ben Jonson, however, appears to have ridiculed this scene in the Induction to his Bartholomew-Fair: “And then a substantial watch to have stole in upon 'em, and taken them away with mistaking words, as the fashion is in the stage practice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 569 1any villainy should be so rich:] The sense absolutely requires us to read, villain. Warburton. The old reading may stand. Steevens.

Note return to page 570 2thou art unconfirm'd:] i. e. unpractised in the ways of the world. Warburton.

Note return to page 571 3&lblank; reechy painting;] is painting stain'd by smoke. So, in Hans Beer Pot's Invisible Comedy, 1618: “&lblank; he look'd so reechily “Like bacon hanging on the chimney's roof.” from Recan, Anglo-Saxon, to reek, fumare. Steevens.

Note return to page 572 4sometime, like the shaven Hercules &c.] By the shaven Hercules is meant Sampson, the usual subject of old tapestry. In this ridicule on the fashion, the poet has not unartfully given a stroke at the barbarous workmanship of the common tapestry hangings, then so much in use. The same kind of raillery Cervantes has employed on the like occasion, when he brings his knight and 'squire to an inn, where they found the story of Dido and Æneas represented in bad tapestry. On Sancho's seeing the tears fall from the eyes of the forsaken queen as big as walnuts, he hopes that when their atchievements became the general subject for these sorts of works, that fortune will send them a better artist.—What authorised the poet to give this name to Samson was the folly of certain Christian mythologists, who pretend that the Grecian Hercules was the Jewish Samson. The retenue of our author is to be commended: The sober audience of that time would have been offended with the mention of a venerable name on so light an ocsion. Shakespeare is indeed sometimes licentious in these matters: But to do him justice, he generally seems to have a sense of religion, and to be under its influence. What Pedro says of Benedick, in this comedy, may be well enough applied to him, The man doth fear God, however it seems not to be in him by some large jests he will make. Warburton. I believe that Shakespeare knew nothing of these Christian mythologists, and by the shaven Hercules meant only Hercules when shaved to make him look like a woman, while he remained in the service of Omphale, his Lydian mistress. Had the shaven Hercules been meant to represent Samson, he would probably have been equipped with a jaw-bone instead of a club. Steevens.

Note return to page 573 5&lblank; smirch'd] Smirch'd is soiled, obscured. So, in As you Like It, act I. sc. iii: “And with a kind of umber smirch my face.” Steevens.

Note return to page 574 6&lblank; wears a lock.] So in the Return from Parnassus, 1600: “He whose thin sire dwells in a smoky roofe, “Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock.” See Dr. Warburton's Note, act V. sc. i. Steevens.

Note return to page 575 7Conr. Masters, masters, &c.] In former copies: Conr. Masters, &lblank; 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Conr. Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. The regulation which I have made in this last speech, though against the authority of all the printed copies, I flatter myself, carries its proof with it. Conrade and Borachio are not designed to talk absurd nonsense. It is evident therefore, that Conrade is attempting his own justification; but is interrupted in it by the impertinence of the men in office. Theobald.

Note return to page 576 8rabato] A neckband; a ruff. Rabat, French. Hanmer. Rabato, an ornament for the neck, a collar-band or kind of ruff. Fr. Rabat. Menage saith it comes from rabattre to put back, because it was at first nothing but the collar of the shirt or shift turn'd back towards the shoulders. Hawkins. This article of dress is frequently mentioned by our ancient comic writers. So, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609:—“The tyre, the rabato, the loose-bodied gown, &c.” Again, in the comedy of Law Tricks, &c. 1608: “Broke broad jests upon her narrow heel, “Pok'd her rabatos, and survay'd her steel.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602:—“He would persuade me that love was a rabato, and his reason was, that a rabato was worn out with pinning, &c.” Again, in Decker's Untrussing the Humourous Poet: “What a miserable thing it is to be a noble bride! There's such delays in rising, in fitting gowns, in pinning rebatoes, in poaking, &c.” Again, in Decker's Guls Hornbook, 1609: “&lblank; your stiff-necked rebatoes (that have more arches for pride to row under, than can stand under five London-bridges) durst not then, &c.” The second and last of these passages will likewise serve for an additional explanation of the poking-sticks of steel, mentioned by Autolycus in the Winter's Tale. Steevens.

Note return to page 577 9Light o' love;] A tune so called, which has been already mentioned by our authour. Johnson. This tune is mentioned in Beaumont and Fletcher's Two Noble Kinsmen. The gaoler's daughter, speaking of a horse, says: “He gallops to the tune of Light o' love.” It is mentioned again in the Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love.” And in the Noble Gentleman of Beaumont and Fletcher. Steevens. Light o' love.] This is the name of an old dance tune which has occur'd already in the Two Gentlemen of Verona. I have lately recovered it from an ancient MS, and it is as follows. Sir John Hawkins.

Note return to page 578 1no barns.] A quibble between barns, repositories of corn, and bairns, the old word for children. Johnson. So, in the Winter's Tale: “Mercy on us, a barn! a very pretty barn!” Steevens.

Note return to page 579 2For the letter that begins them all, H.] This is a poor jest, somewhat obscured, and not worth the trouble of elucidation. Margaret asks Beatrice for what she cries, hey ho; Beatrice answers, for an H, that is, for an ache or pain. Johnson. Heywood, among his Epigrams, published in 1652, has one on the letter H. “H is worst among letters in the cross-row; “For if thou find him either in thine elbow, “In thine arm, or leg, in any degree; “In thine head, or teeth, or toe, or knee; “Into what place soever H may pike him, “Wherever thou find ache thou shalt not like him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 580 3turn'd Turk,] i. e. taken captive by love, and turned a renegado to his religion. Warburton. This interpretation is somewhat far-fetched, yet, perhaps, it is right. Johnson. Hamlet uses the same expression, and talks of his fortune's turning Turk. To turn Turk was a common phrase for a change of condition or opinion. So, in The Honest Whore, by Decker, 1616: “If you turn Turk again, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 581 4some moral] That is, some secret meaning, like the moral of a fable. Johnson. A moral is the same as a morality, one of the earliest kinds of our dramatic performances. So, in Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1621: “&lblank; It was I that penned the Moral of Man's Wit, the Dialogue of Dives, &c.” “The people make no estimation “Of morals, teaching education.” A player, on this occasion, is the speaker, and these performances were full of double meanings and conceits. Again, in Decker's Guls Hornbook, 1609: “&lblank; bee it pastoral or comedy, moral or tragedy. &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 582 5he eats his meat without grudging:] I do not see how this is a proof of Benedick's change of mind. It would afford more proof of amorousness to say, he eats not his meat without grudging; but it is impossible to fix the meaning of proverbial expressions: perhaps, to eat meat without grudging, was the same as, to do as others do, and the meaning is, he is content to live by eating like other mortals, and will be content, notwithstanding his boasts, like other mortal, to have a wife. Johnson.

Note return to page 583 6&lblank; honest as the skin between his brows.] This is a proverbial expression. Steevens.

Note return to page 584 7I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I.] There is much humour, and extreme good sense under the covering of this blundering expression. It is a sly insinuation that length of years, and the being much hacknied in the ways of men, as Shakespeare expresses it, take off the gloss of virtue, and bring much defilement on the manners. For, as a great wit says, Youth is the season of virtue: corruptions grow with years, and I believe the oldest rogue in England is the greatest. Warburton. Much of this is true, but I believe Shakespeare did not intend to bestow all this reflection on the speaker. Johnson.

Note return to page 585 8&lblank; palabras &lblank; So, in the Taming the Shrew, the Tinker says, pocas pallabras, i. e. few words. A scrap of Spanish, which might once have been current among the vulgar. Steevens.

Note return to page 586 *It is a world to see!] i. e. it is wonderful to see. So, in All for Money, an old morality, 1594: “It is a world to see how greedy they be of money.” The same phrase often occurs, with the same meaning, in Holinshead. Steevens.

Note return to page 587 9&lblank; well, God's a good man;] So, in the old Morality or Interlude of Lusty Juventus, 1561: “He wyl say, that God is a good Man, “He can make him no better, and say the best he can.” Again, in A mery Geste of Robyn Hoode, bl. l. no date: “For God is hold a right wise man, “And so is his dame, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 588 1an two men ride &c.] This is not out of place, or without meaning. Dogberry, in his vanity of superiour parts, apologizing for his neighbour, observes, that of two men on an horse, one must ride behind. The first place of rank or understanding can belong but to one, and that happy one ought not to despise his inferiour. Johnson. Shakespeare might have caught this idea from the common seal of the Knights Templars; the device of which was two riding upon one horse. An engraving of the seal is preserved at the end of Matt. Paris Hist. Ang. 1640. Steevens.

Note return to page 589 2some be of laughing,] This is a quotation from the Accidence. Johnson.

Note return to page 590 3&lblank; luxurious bed:] That is, lascivious. Luxury is the confessor's term for unlawful pleasures of the sex. Johnson. So, in K. Lear: “To't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.” Steevens.

Note return to page 591 4Deer my lord, if you in your own proof,] I am surpriz'd the poetical editors did not observe the lameness of this verse. It evidently wants a syllable in the last foot, which I have restored by a word, which, I presume, the first editors might hesitate at; though it is a very proper one, and a word elsewhere used by our author. Besides, in the passage under examination, this word comes in almost necessarily, as Claudio had said in the line immediately preceeding: Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. Theobald. I wonder Mr. Theobald's change of proof into approof, has been so easily adopted by the later editors. His argument for the change, drawn from the lameness of the verse, has no foundation. The lines, according to the reading of the old copies, may be thus distributed: Claud. Not to be married, not to knit my soul To an approved wanton. Leon. Dear my lord, If you, in your own proof, Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, &c. In your own proof may signify in your own trial of her. Tyrwhitt. I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's regulation, which is undoubtedly right. Steevens.

Note return to page 592 5&lblank; word too large;] So he uses large jests in this play, for licentious, not restrained within due bounds. Johnson.

Note return to page 593 6&lblank; I will write against it:] What? a libel; nonsense. We should read: &lblank; I will rate against it: i. e. rail or revile. Warburton. As to subscribe to any thing is to allow it, so to write against is to disallow or deny. Johnson.

Note return to page 594 7&lblank; chaste as the bud &lblank;] Before the air has tasted its sweetness. Johnson.

Note return to page 595 8&lblank; kindly power] That is, natural power. Kind is nature. Johnson.

Note return to page 596 9&lblank; liberal villain,] Liberal here, as in many places of these plays, means, frank beyond honesty or decency. Free of tongue. Dr. Warburton unnecessarily reads, illiberal. Johnson. So, in the Fair Maid of Bristow, 1605: “But Vallinger, most like a liberal villain “Did give her scandalous ignoble terms.” Again, in The Captain, by B. and Fletcher: “And give allowance to your liberal jests “Upon his person.” Again, in Hamlet: “That liberal shepherds give a grosser name.” Steevens. This sense of the word liberal is not peculiar to Shakespeare. John Taylor, in his Suite concerning Players, complains of the “many aspersions very liberally, unmannerly, and ingratefully bestowed upon him.” Farmer.

Note return to page 597 1&lblank; What a Hero hadst thou been] I am afraid here is intended a poor conceit upon the word Hero. Johnson.

Note return to page 598 2Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?] “A thousand daggers, all in honest hands! “And have not I a friend to stick one here?” Venice Preserv'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 599 3The story that is printed in her blood?] That is, the story which her blushes discover to be true. Johnson.

Note return to page 600 4&lblank; Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? I've one too much by thee! &lblank;] The meaning of the second line, according to the present reading is this, Chid I at frugal nature that she sent me a girl and not a boy? But this is not what he chid nature for; if he himself may be believed, it was because she had given him but one: and in that he owns he did foolishly, for he now finds he had one too much. He called her frugal, therefore, in giving him but one child. (For to call her so, because she chose to send a girl rather than a boy, would be ridiculous.) So that we must certainly read: Chid I for this at frugal nature's fraine? i. e. refraine, or keeping back her further favours, stopping her hand, as we say, when she had given him one. But the Oxford editor has, in his usual way, improved this amendment by substituting hand for 'fraine. Warburton. Though frame be not the word which appears to a reader of the present time most proper to exhibit the poet's sentiment, yet it may as well be used to shew that he had one child, and no more, as that he had a girl, not a boy, and as it may easily signify the system of things, or universal scheme, the whole order of beings is comprehended, there arises no difficulty from it which requires to be removed by so violent an effort as the introduction of a new word offensively mutilated. Johnson. Frame is contrivance, order, disposition of things. So, in the Death of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1603: “And therefore seek to set each thing in frame.” Again, in Holinshed's Chronicle, p. 555: “&lblank; there was no man that studied to bring the unrulie to frame.” Again, in Daniel's Verses on Montaigne: “&lblank; extracts of men, “Though in a troubled frame confusedly set.” Again, in Much Ado about Nothing: Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. Steevens.

Note return to page 601 4But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine, that I was proud on; &lblank;] The sense requires that we should read, as in these three places. The reasoning of the speaker stands thus,—Had this been adopted child, her shame would not have rebounded on me. But this child was mine, as mine I loved her, praised her, was proud of her: consequently, as I claimed the glory, I must needs be subjected to the shame, &c. Warburton. Even of this small alteration there is no need. The speaker utters his emotion abruptly, But mine, and mine that I loved, &c. by an ellipsis frequent, perhaps too frequent, both in verse and prose. Johnson.

Note return to page 602 5Friar. What man is he you are accus'd of?] The friar had just before boasted his great skill in fishing out the truth. And, indeed, he appears by this question to be no fool. He was by, all the while at the accusation, and heard no names mentioned. Why then should he ask her what man she was accused of? But in this lay the subtilty of his examination. For, had Hero been guilty, it was very probable that in that hurry and confusion of spirits, into which the terrible insult of her lover had thrown her, she would never have observed that the man's name was not mentioned; and so, on this question, have betrayed herself by naming the person she was conscious of an affair with. The friar observed this, and so concluded, that, were she guilty, she would probably fall into the trap he laid for her.—I only take notice of this to shew how admirably well Shakespeare knew how to sustain his characters. Warburton.

Note return to page 603 6&lblank; bent of honour;] Bent is used by our authour for the utmost degree of any passion, or mental quality. In this play before, Benedick says of Beatrice, her affection has its full bent. The expression is derived from archery; the bow has its bent, when it is drawn as far as it can be. Johnson.

Note return to page 604 7Your daughter here the princes left for dead;] In former copies: Your daughter here the princess (left for dead; But how comes Hero to start up a princess here? We have no intimation of her father being a prince; and this is the first and only time she is complimented with this dignity. The remotion of a single letter, and of the parenthesis, will bring her to her own rank, and the place to its true meaning: Your daughter here the princes left for dead; i. e. Don Pedro, prince of Arragon; and his bastard brother, who is likewise called a prince. Theobald.

Note return to page 605 8&lblank; ostentation:] Show; appearance. Johnson.

Note return to page 606 9&lblank; we rack the value; &lblank;] i. e. We exaggerate the value. The allusion is to rack-rents. The same kind of thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra: “What our contempts do often hurl from us, “We wish it ours again.” Steevens. The following passage in the Widow's Tears by Chapman, 1612, strengthens Mr. Steevens's interpretation: “One joint of him I lost, was much more worth “Than the rackt value of thy entire body.” Malone.

Note return to page 607 1The smallest twine may lead me.] This is one of our authour's observations upon life. Men overpowered with distress, eagerly listen to the first offers of relief, close with every scheme, and believe every promise. He that has no longer any confidence in himself, is glad to repose his trust in any other that will undertake to guide him. Johnson.

Note return to page 608 2Manent Benedick and Beatrice.] The poet, in my opinion, has shewn a great deal of address in this scene. Beatrice here engages her lover to revenge the injury done her cousin Hero: and without this very natural incident, considering the character of Beatrice, and that the story of her passion for Benedick was all a fable, she could never have been easily or naturally brought to confess she loved him, notwithstanding all the foregoing preparation. And yet, on this confession, in this very place, depended the whole success of the plot upon her and Benedick. For had she not owned her love here, they must have soon found out the trick, and then the design of bringing them together had been defeated; and she would never have owned a passion she had been only tricked into, had not her desire of revenging her cousin's wrong made her drop her capricious humour at once. Warburton.

Note return to page 609 3I am gone, though I am here:] i. e. I am out of your mind already, though I remain here in person before you. Steevens.

Note return to page 610 4&lblank; in the height a villain,] So in Hen. VIII: “He's traitor to the height.” “In præcipiti vitium stetit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 611 5&lblank; and counties!] County was the ancient general term for a nobleman. See a note on the County Paris in Romeo and Juliet. Steevens.

Note return to page 612 6&lblank; a goodly count-comfect;] i. e. a specious nobleman made out of sugar. Steevens.

Note return to page 613 7&lblank; and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too;] Mr. Heath would read tongues, but he mistakes the construction of the sentence, which is—not only men, but trim ones, are turned into tongue, i. e. not only common but clever men, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 614 8Scene II. The persons, throughout this scene, have been strangely confounded in the modern editions. The first error has been the introduction of a Town-Clerk, who is, indeed, mentioned in the stage-direction, prefixed to this scene in the old editions, (Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne-clerke in gownes,) but no where else; nor is there a single speech ascribed to him in those editions. The part, which he might reasonably have been expected to take upon this occasion, is performed by the Sexton; who assists at, or rather directs, the examinations; sets them down in writing, and reports them to Leonato. It is probable, therefore, I think, that the Sexton has been stiled the Town-clerk, in the stage-direction abovementioned, from his doing the duty of such an officer. But the editors, having brought both Sexton and Town-clerk upon the stage, were unwilling, as it seems, that the latter should be a mute personage; and therefore they have put into his mouth almost all the absurdities which the poet certainly intended for his ignorant constable. To rectify this confusion, little more is necessary than to go back to the old editions, remembering that the names of Kempe and Cowley, two celebrated actors of the time, are put in this scene, for the names of the persons represented; viz. Kempe for Dogberry, and Cowley for Verges. Tyrwhitt. I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's regulation, which is undoubtedly just; but have left Mr. Theobald's notes as I found them. Steevens.

Note return to page 615 9Both. Yea, sir, we hope. To Cl. Write down—that they hope they serve God: and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains! &lblank;] This short passage, which is truly humourous and in character, I have added from the old quarto. Besides, it supplies a defect: for, without it, the Town-Clerk asks a question of the prisoners, and goes on without staying for any answer to it. Theobald. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0243

Note return to page 616 9'Fore God, they are both in a tale:] This is an admirable stroke of humour: Dogberry says of the prisoners that they are false knaves, and from that denial of the charge, which one in his wits could not but be supposed to make, he infers a communion of counsels, and records it in the examination as an evidence of their guilt. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 617 1To. Cl. Yea, marry, that's the easiest way: Let the watch come forth:] This easiest, is a sophistication of our modern editors, who were at a loss to make out the corrupted reading of the old copies. The quarto in 1600, and the first and second editions in folio, all concur in reading; Yea, marry, that's the eftest way, &c. A letter happened to slip out at press in the first edition; and 'twas too hard a task for the subsequent editors to put it in, or guess at the word under this accidental depravation. There is no doubt but the author wrote, as I have restor'd the text; Yea, marry, that's the deftest way, &c. i. e. the readiest, most commodious way. The word is pure Saxon. Deaflice, debite, congrue, duely, fitly, Ledæthe, opportune, commode, fitly, conveniently, seasonably, in good time, commodiously. Vid. Spelman's Saxon Gloss. Theobald. Mr. Theobald might have recollected, the word deftly in Macbeth: “Thyself and office deftly show.” Shakespeare, I suppose, design'd Dogberry to corrupt this word as well as many others. Steevens.

Note return to page 618 2Sexton. Let them be in the hands of coxcomb.] So the editions. Mr. Theobald gives the words to Conrade, and says, But why the Sexton should be so pert upon his brother officers, there seems no reason from any superior qualifications in him; or any suspicion he shews of knowing their ignorance. This is strange. The Sexton throughout shews as good sense in their examination as any judge upon the bench could do. And as to his suspicion of their ignorance, he tells the Town-Clerk, That he goes not the way to examine. The meanness of his name hindered our editor from seeing the goodness of his sense. But this Sexton was an ecclesiastic of one of the inferior orders called the sacristan, and not a brother officer, as the editor calls him. I suppose the book from whence the poet took his subject, was some old English novel translated from the Italian, where the word sagristano was rendered sexton. As in Fairfax's Godfrey of Boulogne: “When Phœbus next unclos'd his wakeful eye, “Up rose the Sexton of that place prophane.” The passage then in question is to be read thus: Sexton. Let them be in hand. [Exit. Conr. Off, coxcomb! Dogberry would have them pinion'd. The Sexton says, it was sufficient if they were kept in safe custody, and then goes out. When one of the watchmen comes up to bind them, Conrade says, Off, coxcomb! as he says afterwards to the constable, Away! you are an ass.—But the editor adds, The old quarto gave me the first umbrage for placing it to Conrade. What these words mean I don't know: but I suspect the old quarto divides the passage as I have done. Warburton. Theobald has fairly given the reading of the quarto. Dr. Warburton's assertion, as to the dignity of a sexton or sacristan, may be supported by the following passage in Stanyhurst's Version of the fourth Book of the Æneid, where he calls the Massylian priestess: “&lblank; in soil Massyla begotten, “Sexton of Hesperides sinagog.” Steevens. Let them be in hand.] I had conjectured that these words should be given to Verges, and read thus: “Let them bind their hands.” I am still of opinion that the passage belongs to Verges; but, for the true reading of it, I should wish to adopt a much neater emendation, which has since been suggested to me in conversation by Mr. Steevens. Let them be in band. Shakespeare, as he observed to me, commonly uses band for bond. Tyrwhitt. It is plain that they were bound from a subsequent speech of Pedro: “Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer?” Steevens. There is nothing in the old quarto different in this scene from the common copies, except that the names of two actors, Kempe and Cowley, are placed at the beginning of the speeches, instead of the proper words. Johnson.

Note return to page 619 3If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard; And hallow, wag, cry hem, when he should groan:] Mr. Rowe is the first authority that I can find for this reading. But what is the intention, or how can we expound it? “If a man will halloo, and whoop, and fidget, and wriggle about, to shew a pleasure when he should groan,” &c. This does not give much decorum to the sentiment. The old quarto, and the first and second folio editions, all read: And sorrow, wagge, cry hem, &c. We don't, indeed, get much by this reading; though, I flatter myself, by a slight alteration it has led me to the true one, And sorrow wage; cry, hem! when he should groan; i. e. If such a one will combat with, strive against sorrow, &c. Nor is this word infrequent with our author in these significations. Theobald. Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, for wag read waive, which is, I suppose, the same as, put aside, or shift off. None of these conjectures satisfy me, nor perhaps any other reader. I cannot but think the true meaning nearer than it is imagined. I point thus: If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, And, sorrow wag! cry; hem, when he should groan; That is, If he will smile, and cry sorrow be gone, and hem instead of groaning. The order in which and and cry are placed, is harsh, and this harshness made the sense mistaken. Range the words in the common order, and my reading will be free from all difficulty: If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, Cry, sorrow, wag! and hem when he should groan. Johnson. I think we might read: “And sorrow gagge; cry hem, when he should groan;” &lblank; But, leaving this conjecture to shift for itself, I will say a few words upon the phrase, cry hem. It is used again by our author, in the First Part of Henry IV. act II. scene vii.—“They call drinking deep, dying scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they cry hem, and bid you play it off.”—In both places, to cry hem, seems to signify the same as to cry courage; in which sense the interjection hem was sometimes also used by the Latins. As Shakespeare uses a similar phrase, to cry aim, in nearly the same sense, I was once led to imagine that this might have been only a corruption of to cry hem; but having since considered the numerous instances, which Mr. Steevens has produced in illustration of the phrase cry aim, Merry Wives of Windsor, act. II. sc. iii. I am clearly of opinion, that the two phrases, though often of the same import, are of quite distinct and independent originals. Tyrwhitt. Here is a manifest corruption. The tenour of the context is undoubtedly this: “If a man in such melancholy circumstances will smile, stroke his beard with great complacency, and in the very depth of affliction cheerfully cry hem when he should groan, &c.” I therefore, with the least departure from the old copies, and in entire conformity to the acknowledged and obvious sense of the passage, venture to correct thus: If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And sorrowing cry hem, when he should groan. Sorrowing, to say no more, was a participle extremely common in our author's age. Rowe's emendation of this place is equally without meaning and without authority. Sorrowing was here, perhaps, originally written Sorrowinge, according to the old manner of spelling; which brings the correction I have proposed still nearer to the letters of the text in early editions. Warton. To cry, care away! was once an expression of triumph. So, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1529: “I may nowe say, Care awaye!” Sorrow wagge! may be such another phrase of exultation. Again, ibid. “Nowe grievous sorrowe and care away!” What will be said of the conceit I shall now offer, I know not; let it, however, take its chance. We might read: If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, And, sorry wag! cry hem! when he should groan. &lblank; i. e. unfeeling humourist! to employ a note of festivity, when his sighs ought to express concern. Both the words I would introduce, are used by Shakespeare. Falstaff calls the prince, sweet wag! and the epithet sorry is applied, even at this time, to denote any moderate deviation from propriety or morality; as, for instance, a sorry fellow. Othello, speaks of a salt and sorry rheum. The prince, in the First Part of K. Henry IV. act II. sc. iv. says: “&lblank; they cry, hem! and bid you play it off.” This sufficiently proves the exclamation to have been of a comic turn. Steevens.

Note return to page 620 4&lblank; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters.] This may mean, either wash away his sorrow among those who sit up all night to drink, and in that sense may be styled wasters of candles; or overpower his misfortunes by swallowing flap-dragons in his glass, which are described by Falstaff as made of candles' ends. Steevens.

Note return to page 621 5&lblank; than advertisement.] That is, than admonition, than moral instruction. Johnson.

Note return to page 622 6However they have writ the style of gods,] This alludes to the extravagant titles the Stoics gave their wise men. Sapiens ille cum Diis ex pare vivit. Senec. Ep. 59. Jupiter quo antecedit virum bonum? diutius bonus est. Sapiens nihilo se minoris æstimat.— Deus non vincit sapientem felicitate. Ep. 73. Warburton. Shakespeare might have used this expression, without any acquaintance with the hyperboles of stoicism. By the style of gods, he meant an exalted language; such as we may suppose would be written by beings superior to human calamities, and therefore regarding them with neglect and coldness. B. and Fletcher have the same expression in the first of their Four Plays in One: “Athens doth make women philosophers, “And sure their children chat the talk of gods.” Steevens.

Note return to page 623 7And made pish at chance and sufferance.] Alludes to their famous apathy. Warburton.

Note return to page 624 8Canst thou so daffe me? &lblank;] This is a country word, Mr. Pope tells us, signifying, daunt. It may be so; but that is not the exposition here: To daffe and doffe are synonimous terms, that mean, to put off: which is the very sense required here, and what Leonato would reply upon Claudio's saying, he would have nothing to do with him. Theobald. Theobald has well interpreted the word. Shakespeare uses it more than once: “The nimble footed mad-cap prince of Wales, “And his comrades that daff'd the world aside.” Again, “&lblank; I would have daff'd other respects, &c.” Again, in the Lover's Complaint: “There my white stole of chastity I daff'd.” It is perhaps of Scottish origin, as I find it in Ane verie excellent and delectabill Treatise intitulit Philotus, &c. Edinburgh, 1603: “Their daffing does us so undo.” Steevens.

Note return to page 625 9Ant. He shall kill two of us, &c.] This brother Anthony is the truest picture imaginable of human nature. He had assumed the character of a sage to comfort his brother, o'erwhelmed with grief for his only daughter's affront and dishonour; and had severely reproved him for not commanding his passion better on so trying an occasion. Yet, immediately after this, no sooner does he begin to suspect that his age and valour are slighted, but he falls into the most intemperate fit of rage himself: and all he can do or say is not of power to pacify him. This is copying nature with a penetration and exactness of judgment peculiar to Shakespeare. As to the expression, too, of his passion, nothing can be more highly painted. Warburton.

Note return to page 626 1Scambling]—i. e. scrambling. The word is more than once used by Shakespeare. See Dr. Percy's note on the first speech of the play of K. Henry V. and likewise the Scots proverb “It is well ken'd your father's son was never a scambler.” A scambler in its literal sense, is one who goes about among his friends to get a dinner, by the Irish call'd a cosherer. Steevens.

Note return to page 627 2&lblank; we will not wake your patience.] This conveys a sentiment that the speaker would by no means have implied, That the patience of the two old men was not exercised, but asleep, which upbraids them for insensibility under their wrong. Shakespeare must have wrote: &lblank; we will not wrack &lblank; i. e. destroy your patience by tantalizing you. Warburton. This emendation is very specious, and perhaps is right; yet the present reading may admit a congruous meaning with less difficulty than many other of Shakespeare's expressions. The old men have been both very angry and outrageous; the prince tells them that he and Claudio will not wake their patience; will not any longer force them to endure the presence of those whom, though they look on them as enemies, they cannot resist. Johnson.

Note return to page 628 3Nay, then give him another staff, &c.] An allusion to tilting. See note, As You Like It, act III. sc. iv. Warburton.

Note return to page 629 4to turn his girdle.] We have a proverbial speech, If he be angry, let him turn the buckle of his girdle. But I do not know its original or meaning. Johnson. A corresponding expression is used to this day in Ireland.—If he be angry, let him tie up his brogues. Neither proverb, I believe, has any other meaning than this: If he is in a bad humour, let him employ himself till he is in a better. Steevens.

Note return to page 630 5a wise gentleman;] This jest depending on the colloquial use of words is now obscure; perhaps we should read, a wise gentle man, or a man wise enough to be a coward. Perhaps wise gentleman was in that age used ironically, and always stood for silly fellow. Johnson.

Note return to page 631 6What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!] It was esteemed a mark of levity and want of becoming gravity, at that time, to go in the doublet and hose, and leave off the cloak, to which this well-turned expression alludes. The thought is, that love makes a man as ridiculous, and exposes him as naked as being in the doublet and hose without a cloak. Warburton.

Note return to page 632 7one meaning well suited.] That is, one meaning is put into many different dresses; the prince having asked the same question in four modes of speech. Johnson.

Note return to page 633 8And she alone is heir to both of us;] Shakespeare seems to have forgot what he had made Leonato say, in the fifth scene of the first act to Antonio, How now, brother; where is my cousin your son? hath be provided the musick? Anonymous.

Note return to page 634 9he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name;] There could not be a pleasanter ridicule on the fashion, than the constable's descant on his own blunder. They heard the conspirators satyrize the fashion; whom they took to be a man sirnamed, Deformed. This the constable applies with exquisite humour to the courtiers, in a description of one of the most fantastical fashions of that time, the men's wearing rings in their ears, and indulging a favourite lock of hair which was brought before, and tied with ribbons, and called a love-lock. Against this fashion William Prynne wrote his treatise, called, The Unlovelyness of Love-Locks. To this fantastic mode Fletcher alludes in his Cupid's Revenge:—“This morning I brought him a new perriwig with a lock at it—And yonder's a fellow come has bored a hole in his ear.” And again, in his Woman-Hater: “—If I could endure an ear with a hole in it, or a platted lock, &c.” Warburton.

Note return to page 635 1To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs?] Thus all the printed copies, but, sure, erroneously: for all the jest, that can lie in the passage, is destroyed by it. Any man might come over her, literally speaking, if she always kept below stairs. By the correction I have ventured to make, Margaret, as I presume, must mean, What! shall I always keep above stairs? i. e. Shall I for ever continue a chambermaid? Theobald. I suppose every reader will find the meaning of the old copies. Johnson. Lest he should not, the following instance from Sir Aston Cockayne's Poems, is at his service: “But to prove rather he was not beguil'd, “Her he o'er-came, for he got her with child.” And another, more apposite, from Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1603: “Alas! when we are once o' th' falling hand, “A man may easily come over us.” Collins.

Note return to page 636 2I give thee the bucklers.] I suppose that to give the bucklers is, to yield, or to lay by all thoughts of defence, so clypeum abjicere. The rest deserves no comment. Johnson. Greene, in his Second Part of Coney-Catching, 1592, uses the same expression:—“At this his master laught, and was glad, for further advantage, to yeeld the bucklers to his prentise.” So, in The Fair Maid of the Exchange, 1607: “&lblank; not a word to say? “Bow. No, by my troth, if you stay here all day. “Mall. Why then I'll bear the bucklers quite away.” So, Ben Jonson, in The Case is Alter'd, 1609: “&lblank; play an honest part, and bear away the bucklers.” Again, in A Woman never Vex'd, a comedy by Rowley, 1632: —“into whose hands she thrusts the weapons first, let him take up the bucklers.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix: “Charge one of them to take up the bucklers “Against that hair-monger Horace.” Again, in Chapman's May-Day, 1611: “And now I lay the bucklers at your feet.” Again, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “&lblank; if you lay down the bucklers, you lose the victory.” Again, in the Preface to Greene's Defence of Coney-catching, 1592: “&lblank; gave me the bucklers as the subtlest that ever he saw.” Again, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. b. x. ch. 21. “&lblank; it goeth against his stomach (the cock's) to yeeld the gantlet and give the bucklers.” Steevens. So in May-Day, a Comedy by Chapman, 1611: “Well, sir, I ever thought you'd the best wit “Of any man in Venice next mine own; “But now I'll lay the bucklers at your feet.” Malone.

Note return to page 637 3in the time of good neighbours:] i. e. When men were not envious, but every one gave another his due. The reply is extremely humourous. Warburton.

Note return to page 638 4Question? why, an hour, &c.] i. e. What a question's there, or what a foolish question do you ask? But the Oxford editor, not understanding this phrase, contracted into a single word, (of which we have many instances in English) has fairly struck it out. Warburton.

Note return to page 639 5Those that slew thy virgin knight;] Knight, in its original signification, means follower or pupil, and in this sense may be feminine. Helena, in All's Well that Ends well, uses knight in the same signification. Johnson. In the times of chivalry, a virgin knight was one who had as yet atchieved no adventure. Hero had as yet atchieved no matrimonial one. It may be added, that a virgin knight wore no device on his shield, having no right to any till he had deserved it. So, in the Hist. of Clyomon Knight of the Golden Shield, &c. 1599: “Then as thou seem'st in thy attire a virgin knight to be, “Take thou this shield likewise of white &c.” It appears, however, from several passages in Spenser's Faerie Queen, B. i. c. 7. that an ideal order of this name was supposed, as a compliment to queen Elizabeth's virginity: “Of doughtie knights whom faery land did raise “That noble order hight of maidenhed.” Again, B. ii. c. 2. “Order of maidenhed the most renown'd.” Again, B. ii. c. 9. “And numbred be mongst knights of maidenhed.” On the books of the Stationers' Company in the year 1594, is entered, “&lblank; Pheander the mayden knight.” Steevens.

Note return to page 640 6And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's, Than this, for whom we render up this woe!] Claudio could not know, without being a prophet, that this new proposed match should have any luckier event than that designed with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this should be a wish in Claudio; and, to this end, the poet might have wrote, speed's; i. e. speed us: and so it becomes a prayer to Hymen. Thirlby.

Note return to page 641 7I would not deny you; &c.] Mr. Theobald says, is not this mock-reasoning? She would not deny him, but that she yields upon great persuasion. In changing the negative, I make no doubt but I have retrieved the poet's humour: and so changes not into yet. But is not this a mock-critic? who could not see that the plain obvious sense of the common reading was this, I cannot find in my heart to deny you, but for all that I yield, after having stood out great persuasions to submission. He had said, I take thee for pity, she replies, I would not deny thee, i. e. I take thee for pity too: but as I live, I am won to this compliance by importunity of friends. Mr. Theobald, by altering not to yet, makes it supposed, that he had been importunate, and that she had often denied, which was not the case. Warburton.

Note return to page 642 8Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth—[Kissing her.] In former copies: Leon. Peace, I will stop your mouth. What can Leonato mean by this? “Nay, pray, peace, niece! don't keep up this obstinacy of professions, for I have proofs to stop your mouth.” The ingenious Dr. Thirlby agreed with me, that this ought to be given to Benedick, who, upon saying it, kisses Beatrice; and this being done before the whole company, how natural is the reply which the prince makes upon it? How dost thou, Benedick the married man? Besides, this mode of speech, preparatory to a salute, is familiar to our poet in common with other stage-writers. Theobald.

Note return to page 643 This play may be justly said to contain two of the most sprightly characters that Shakespeare ever drew. The wit, the humourist, the gentleman, and the soldier, are combined in Benedick. It is to be lamented, indeed, that the first and most splendid of these distinctions, is disgraced by unnecessary profaneness; for the goodness of his heart is hardly sufficient to atone for the licence of his tongue. The too sarcastic levity, which flashes out in the conversation of Beatrice, may be excused on account of the steadiness and friendship so apparent in her behaviour, when she urges her lover to risque his life by a challenge to Claudio. In the conduct of the fable, however, there is an imperfection similar to that which Dr. Johnson has pointed out in the Merry Wives of Windsor:—the second contrivance is less ingenious than the first:—or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is become stale by repetition. I wish some other method had been found to entrap Beatrice, than that very one which before had been successfully practised on Benedick. Much ado about Nothing, (as I understand from one of Mr. Vertue's MSS.) formerly passed under the title of Benedict and Beatrix. Heming the player received, on the 20th of May, 1613, the sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as his majesty's gratuity, for exhibiting six plays at Hampton-Court, among which was this comedy. Steevens.

Note return to page 644 This enumeration of the persons was made by Mr. Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 645 1I have not hitherto discovered any novel on which this comedy appears to have been founded; and yet the story of it has most of the features of an ancient romance. Steevens.

Note return to page 646 2With all these, living in philosophy.] The style of the rhyming scenes in this play is often entangled and obscure. I know not certainly to what all these is to be referred; I suppose he means, that he finds love, pomp, and wealth in philosophy. Johnson.

Note return to page 647 3&lblank; nor sleep.] The folio—not sleep. Steevens.

Note return to page 648 4When I to feast expresly am forbid;] The copies all have: When I to fast expresly am forbid; But if Biron studied where to get a good dinner, at a time when he was forbid to fast, how was this studying to know what he was forbid to know? Common sense, and the whole tenour of the context require us to read, feast, or to make a change in the last word of the verse: When I to fast expresly am fore-bid; i. e. when I am enjoined before-hand to fast. Theobald.

Note return to page 649 5&lblank; while truth the while Doth falsly blind &lblank;] Falsly is here, and in many other places, the same as dishonestly or treacherously. The whole sense of this gingling declamation is only this, that a man by too close study may read himself blind, which might have been told with less obscurity in fewer words. Johnson.

Note return to page 650 6Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed, And give him light that was it blinded by.] This is another passage unnecessarily obscure: the meaning is, that when he dazzles, that is, has his eye made weak, by fixing his eye upon a fairer eye, that fairer eye shall be his heed, his direction or lode-star, (See Midsummer-Night's Dream) and give him light that was blinded by it. Johnson.

Note return to page 651 7Too much to know, is to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name.] The first line in this reading is absurd and impertinent. There are two ways of setting it right. The first is to read it thus: Too much to know, is it know nought but shame; This makes a fine sense, and alludes to Adam's fall, which came from the inordinate passion of knowing too much. The other way is to read, and point it thus: Too much to know, is to know nought: but feign, i. e. to feign. As much as to say, the affecting to know too much is the way to know nothing. The sense, in both these readings, is equally good: but with this difference; If we read the first way, the following line is impertinent; and to save the correction, we must judge it spurious. If we read it the second way, then the following line completes the sense. Consequently the correction of feign is to be preferred. To know too much (says the speaker) is to know nothing: it is only feigning to know what we do not: giving names for things without knowing their natures; which is false knowledge: And this was the peculiar defect of the Peripatetic philosophy then in vogue. These philosophers, the poet, with the highest humour and good sense, calls the godfathers of nature, who could only give things a name, but had no manner of acquaintance with their essences. Warburton. That there are two ways of setting a passage right, gives reason to suspect that there may be a third way better than either. The first of these emendations makes a fine sense, but will not unite with the next line; the other makes a sense less fine, and yet will not rhyme to the correspondent word. I cannot see why the passage may not stand without disturbance. The consequence, says Biron, of too much knowledge, is not any real solution of doubts, but mere empty reputation. That is, too much knowledge gives only fame, a name which every godfather can give likewise. Johnson.

Note return to page 652 8Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.] To proceed is an academical term, meaning, to take a degree, as he proceeded bachelor in physick. The sense is, he has taken his degrees on the art of hindering the degrees of others. Johnson.

Note return to page 653 9&lblank; sneaping frost,] So sneaping winds in the Winter's Tale: To sneap is to check, to rebuke. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 1Why should I joy in an abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose, Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows: But like of each thing, that in season grows.] As the greatest part of this scene (both what precedes and follows) is strictly in rhimes, either successive, alternate, or triple; I am persuaded, that the copyists have made a slip here. For by making a triplet of the three last lines quoted, birth in the close of the first line is quite destitute of any rhime to it. Besides, what a displeasing identity of sound recurs in the middle and close of this verse? Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows: Again; new fangled shows seems to have very little propriety. The flowers are not new-fangled; but the earth is new-fangled by the profusion and variety of the flowers, that spring on its bosom in May. I have therefore ventured to substitute earth, in the close of the third line, which restores the alternate measure. It was very easy for a negligent transcriber to be deceived by the rhime immediately preceding; so mistake the concluding word in the sequent line, and corrupt it into one that would chime with the other. Theobald.

Note return to page 655 3A dangerous law against gentility!] I have ventured to prefix the name of Biron to this line, it being evident, for two reasons, that it, by some accident or other, slipt out of the printed books. In the first place, Longaville confesses, he had devis'd the penalty: and why he should immediately arraign it as a dangerous law, seems to be very inconsistent. In the next place, it is much more natural for Biron to make this reflexion, who is cavilling at every thing; and then for him to pursue his reading over the remaining articles.—As to the word gentility, here, it does not signify that rank of people called, gentry; but what the French express by, gentilesse, i. e. elegantia, urbanitas. And then the meaning is this: Such a law for banishing women from the court, is dangerous, or injurious, to politeness, urbanity, and the more refined pleasures of life. For men without women would turn brutal, and savage, in their natures and behaviour. Theobald.

Note return to page 656 4Not by might master'd, but by special grace:] Biron, amidst his extravagancies, speaks with great justness against the folly of vows. They are made without sufficient regard to the variations of life, and are therefore broken by some unforeseen necessity. They proceed commonly from a presumptuous confidence, and a false estimate of human power. Johnson.

Note return to page 657 5Suggestions &lblank;] Temptations. Johnson.

Note return to page 658 6&lblank; quick recreation &lblank;] Lively sport, spritely diversion. Johnson.

Note return to page 659 7A man of complements, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:] As very bad a play as this is, it was certainly Shakespeare's, as appears by many fine master-strokes scattered up and down. An excessive complaisance is here admirably painted, in the person of one who was willing to make even right and wrong friends: and to persuade the one to recede from the accustomed stubbornness of her nature, and wink at the liberties of her opposite, rather than he would incur the imputation of ill-breeding in keeping up the quarrel. And as our author, and Jonson his contemporary, are confessedly the two greatest writers in the drama that our nation could ever boast of, this may be no improper occasion to take notice of one material difference between Shakespeare's worst plays and the other's. Our author owed all to his prodigious natural genius; and Jonson most to his acquired parts and learning. This, if attended to, will explain the difference we speak of. Which is this, that, in Jonson's bad pieces, we do not discover the least traces of the author of the Fox and Alchemist; but in the wildest and most extravagant notes of Shakespeare, you every now and then encounter strains that recognize their divine composer. And the reason is this, that Jonson owing his chief excellence to art, by which he sometimes strained himself to an uncommon pitch, when he unbent himself, had nothing to support him; but fell below all likeness of himself: while Shakespeare, indebted more largely to nature than the other to his acquired talents, could never, in his most negligent hours, so totally divest himself of his genius but that it would frequently break out with amazing force and splendour. Warburton. This passage, I believe, means no more than that Don Armado was a man nicely versed in ceremonial distinctions, one who could distinguish in the most delicate questions of honour the exact boundaries of right and wrong. Compliment, in Shakespeare's time, did not signify, at least did not only signify verbal civility, or phrases of courtesy, but according to its original meaning, the trappings, or ornamental appendages of a character, in the same manner, and on the same principles of speech with accomplishment. Complement is, as Armado well expresses it, the varnish of a complete man. Johnson. Dr. Johnson's opinion may be supported by the following passage in Lingua, or The Combat of the Tongue and the five Senses for Superiority, 1607:—“after all fashions and of all colours, with rings, jewels, a fan, and in every other place, odd complements.” And again, by the title-page to Richard Brathwaite's English Gentlewoman, “drawne out to the full body, expressing what habiliments doe best attire her; what ornaments doe best adorne her; and what complements doe best accomplish her.” Again, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; adorned with the exactest complements belonging to everlasting nobleness.” Again, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “Chairs and stools, and other such complements for a chamber.” Again, in Marston's Sophonisba, 1606: “Enter Scipio and Lælius with the complements of a Roman general before them.” Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. iii. c. 5: “And both encreas'd her beauty excellent, “So all did make in her a perfect complement.” Steevens. This child of fancy.] This expression has been adopted by Milton in his Allegro: “Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child.” Malone.

Note return to page 660 8From tawny Spain, &c.] i. e. he shall relate to us the celebrated stories recorded in the old romances, and in their very stile. Why he says from tawny Spain is, because these romances, being of Spanish original, the heroes and the scene were generally of that country. Why he says, lost in the world's debate is, because the subject of those romances were the crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. So that we see here is meaning in the words. Warburton.

Note return to page 661 9&lblank; in the world's debate.] The world seems to be used in a monastick sense by the king, now devoted for a time to a monastic life. In the world, in seculo, in the bustle of human affairs, from which we are now happily sequestred, in the world, to which the votaries of solitude have no relation, Johnson.

Note return to page 662 1Which is the king's own person?] In former editions: “Dull. Which is the duke's own person? The king of Navarre is in several passages, through all the copies, called the duke: but as this must have sprung rather from the inadvertence of the editors, than a forgetfulness in the poet, I have every where, to avoid confusion, restored king to the text. Theobald. I have followed the old copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 663 2&lblank; Tharborough:] i. e. Thirdborough, a peace officer, alike in authority with a headborough or a constable. Sir J. Hawkins.

Note return to page 664 3A high hope for a low having;] In old editions: A high hope for a low heaven; A low heaven, sure, is a very intricate matter to conceive. I dare warrant, I have retrieved the poet's true reading; and the meaning is this: “Though you hope for high words, and should have them, it will be but a low acquisition at best.” This our poet calls a low having: and it is a substantive which he uses in several other passages. Theobald. It is so used in Macbeth, act I: “&lblank; great prediction “Of noble having, and of royal hope.” Heaven, however, may be the true reading, in allusion to the gradations of happiness promised by Mohammed to his followers. So, in the comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600: “Oh, how my soul is rapt to a third heaven!” Steevens.

Note return to page 665 4&lblank; taken with the manner.] The following question arising from these words shews we should read,—taken in the manner. And this was the phrase in use to signify, taken in the fact. So Dr. Donne, in his letters, “But if I melt into melancholy while I write, I shall be taken in the manner; and I sit by one, too tender to these impressions.” Warburton. With the manner, and in the manner, are expressions, used indifferently by our old writers. So in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1630: “—and, being taken with the manner, had nothing to say for himself.” Steevens.

Note return to page 666 5base minnow of thy mirth,] A minnow is a little fish which cannot be intended here. We may read, the base minion of thy mirth. Johnson. The old reading is certainly the true one. The base minnow of thy mirth, is the contemptibly little object that contributes to thy entertainment. Shakespeare makes Coriolanus characterise the tribunitian insolence of Sicinius, under the same figure: “&lblank; hear you not “This Triton of the minnows?” Steevens.

Note return to page 667 6I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.] So Falstaff, in the Second Part of K. Henr IV: “&lblank; it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 668 7dear imp.] Imp was anciently a term of dignity. Lord Cromwell in his last letter to Henry VIII. prays for the imp his son. It is now used only in contempt or abhorrence; perhaps in our authour's time it was ambiguous, in which state it suits well with this dialogue. Johnson. Pistol salutes king Henry V. by the same title. Steevens.

Note return to page 669 8&lblank; my tender juvenal.] Juvenal is youth. So, in The Noble Stranger, 1640: “Oh, I could hug thee for this, my jovial juvinell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 670 9&lblank; tough.] Old and tough, young and tender, is one of the proverbial phrases collected by Ray. Steevens.

Note return to page 671 1crosses love not him.] By crosses he means money. So, in As You Like It, the Clown says to Celia, “if I should bear you, I should bear no cross.” Johnson.

Note return to page 672 2Moth. And how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you.] Banks's horse, which play'd many remarkable pranks. Sir Walter Raleigh (History of the World, first Part, p. 178) says: “If Banks had lived in older times, he would have shamed all the inchanters in the world: for whosoever was most famous among them, could never master, or instruct any beast as he did his horse.” And sir Kenelm Digby (a Treatise of Bodies, ch. xxxviii. p. 393.) observes: “That his horse would restore a glove to the due owner, after the master had whispered the man's name in his ear; would tell the just number of pence in any piece of silver coin, newly shewed him by his master; and even obey presently his command, in discharging himself of his excrements, whensoever he had bade him.” Dr. Gray. Banks's horse is alluded to by many writers contemporary with Shakespeare; among the rest, by B. Jonson, in Every Man out of his Humour: “He keeps more ado with this monster, than ever Banks did with his horse.” Again, in Hall's Satires, lib. iv. sat. 2: “More than who vies his pence to view some tricke “Of strange Morocco's dumbe arithmeticke.” Again, in Ram-Alley, 1611: “Banks's horse and he were both taught in a stable.” Again, in Aristippus, 1630: “Before I heard this lecture, Banks's horse was an Aristotle to me.” Again, in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “It shall be chronicled next after the death of Banks's horse.” Again, in Ben Jonson's 134th Epigram: “Old Banks the jugler, our Pythagoras, “Grave tutor to the learned horse, &c.” The fate of this man and his very docile animal, is not exactly known, and, perhaps, deserves not to be remembered. From the next lines, however, to those last quoted, it should seem as if they had died abroad. “&lblank; Both which “Being, beyond sea, burned for one witch, “Their spirits transmigrated to a cat.” Among the entries at Stationers'-Hall, is the following; Nov. 14, 1595. “A ballad shewing the strange qualities of a yong nagg called Morocco.” Again, Dec. 17th, 1595. “Maroccius excitatus, or Banks's bay horse in a traunce.” Again, in The Mastive, an ancient collection of Epigrams: “Attempteth eke like Banks's horse to dance.” Among other exploits of this celebrated beast, it is said that he went up to the top of St. Paul's; and the same circumstance is likewise mentioned in The Guls Horn-booke, a satirical pamphlet, by Decker, 1609. “—From hence you may descend to talk about the horse that went up, and strive, if you can, to know his keeper; take the day of the month, and the number of the steppes, and suffer yourself to believe verily that it was not a horse, but something else in the likeness of one.” Again, in Lanthorn and Candle-light, or the Bellman's second Night-walk, by the same author: “More strange tricks are play'd by such riders, than Bankes his curtall did ever practice.” Again, in a Collection of Epigrams, by J. D. and C. M. no date: “Another Banks pronounced long ago:   “When he his curtall's qualities exprest.” Again,   “Yet Banks's horse is better knowne than he.” Again, in Chrestoloros, or Seven Bookes of Epigrames, written by T. B. 1598, lib. III. ep. 17:   “Of Bankes' Horse. “Bankes hath a horse of wondrous qualitie, “For he can fight, and pisse, and dance, and lie, “And finde your purse, and tell what coyne ye have: “But Bankes, who taught your horse to smel a knave?” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0249

Note return to page 673 3the King and the Beggar?] See Dr. Percy's Collection of old Ballads, in three vols. Steevens.

Note return to page 674 4&lblank; my digression] Digression on this occasion signifies the act of going out of the right way. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, “Digression from the valour of a man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 675 5the rational hind Costard;] Perhaps, we should read—the irrational hind, &c. Tyrwhitt. The rational hind, perhaps, means only the reasoning brute, the animal with some share of reason. Steevens. I have always read irrational hind: if hind be taken in it's bestial sense, Armado makes Costard a female. Farmer. Shakespeare uses it in its bestial sense in Julius Cæsar, act I. sc. iii. and as of the masculine gender: “He were no lion were not Romans hinds.” Again, in K. Henry IV. p. 1. sc. iii: “&lblank; you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lye.” Steevens.

Note return to page 676 6Maid. Fair weather after you. Come, Jaquenetta, away.] Thus all the printed copies: but the editors have been guilty of much inadvertence. They make Jaquenetta, and a Maid enter; whereas Jaquenetta is the only maid intended by the poet, and is committed to the custody of Dull, to be conveyed by him to the lodge in the park. This being the case, it is evident to demonstration, that—Fair weather after you—must be spoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull says to her, Come, Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the text. Theobald. Mr. Theobald has endeavoured here to dignify his own industry by a very slight performance. The folios all read as he reads, except that instead of naming the persons they give their characters, enter Clown, Constable, and Wench. Johnson.

Note return to page 677 7It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words;] I suppose we should read, it is not for prisoners to be silent in their wards, that is, in custody, in the holds. Johnson. I believe the blunder was intentional. The quarto, however, reads, It is for prisoners, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 678 8&lblank; affect &lblank;] i. e. love. So in Warner's Albion's England, 1602, b. xii. ch. 74: “But this I know, not Rome affords whom more you might affect, “Than her, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 679 9The first and second cause will not serve my turn;] See the last act of As You Like It, with the notes. Johnson.

Note return to page 680 *&lblank; sonneteer.] The old copies read only—sonnet. Steevens.

Note return to page 681 1&lblank; chapmen's tongues:] Chapman here seems to signify the seller, not, as now commonly, the buyer. Cheap or cheping was anciently the market, chapman therefore is marketman. The meaning is, that the estimation of beauty depends not on the uttering or proclamation of the seller, but on the eye of the buyer. Johnson.

Note return to page 682 2Well fitted &lblank;] is well qualified. Johnson.

Note return to page 683 3&lblank; match'd with &lblank;] is combined or joined with. Johnson.

Note return to page 684 4Were all address'd] To address is to prepare. So in Hamlet: “&lblank; it lifted up its head, and did address “Itself to motion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 685 5And sin to break it:] Sir T. Hanmer reads: Not sin to break it. I believe erroneously. The princess shews an inconvenience very frequently attending rash oaths, which, whether kept or broken, produce guilt. Johnson.

Note return to page 686 6&lblank; and not demands, On payment, &c.] The former editions read: &lblank; and not demands One payment of a hundred thousand crowns, To have his title live in Aquitain. I have restored, I believe, the genuine sense of the passage. Aquitain was pledged, it seems, to Navarre's father, for 200,000 crowns. The French king pretends to have paid one moiety of this debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of) but demands this moiety back again: instead whereof (says Navarre) he should rather pay the remaining moiety and demand to have Aquitain redelivered up to him. This is plain and easy reasoning upon the fact suppos'd; and Navarre declares, he had rather receive the residue of his debt, than detain the province mortgaged for security of it. Theobald.

Note return to page 687 7&lblank; depart withal] To depart and to part were anciently synonymous. So, in K. John: “Hath willingly departed with a part.” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 8Non poynt, &lblank;] So in the Shoemaker's Holiday, 1600: “&lblank; tell me where he is. “No point. Shall I betray my brother?” Steevens.

Note return to page 689 9What lady is that same?] It is odd that Shakespeare should make Dumain enquire after Rosaline, who was the mistress of Biron, and neglect Katharine, who was his own. Biron behaves in the same manner. No advantage would be gained by an exchange of names, because the last speech is determined to Biron by Maria, who gives a character of him after he has made his exit. Perhaps all the ladies wore masks but the princess. Steevens.

Note return to page 690 1God's blessing on your beard!] That is, mayst thou have sense and seriousness more proportionate to thy beard, the length of which suits ill with such idle catches of wit. Johnson.

Note return to page 691 2&lblank; unless we feed on your lips.] Shakespeare has the same expression in his Venus and Adonis: “Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or on dale, “Graze on my lips.” Malone.

Note return to page 692 3My lips are no common, though several they be.] Several is an inclosed field of a private proprietor; so Maria says, her lips are private property. Of a lord that was newly married, one observed that he grew fat; “Yes,” said sir Walter Raleigh, “any beast will grow fat, if you take him from the common and graze him in the several.” Johnson. So, in The Rival Friends, 1632: “&lblank; my sheep have quite disgrest “Their bounds, and leap'd into the severall.” Again, in Green's Disputation, &c. 1592: “rather would have mewed me up as a henne, to have kept that severall to himself by force, &c.” Again, in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “Of late he's broke into a severall “That does belong to me.” Steevens. My lips are no common, though several they be.] In the note upon this passage it is said that several is an inclosed field of a private proprietor. Dr. Johnson has totally mistaken this word. In the first place it should be spelled severell. This does not signify an inclosed field or private property, but is rather the property of every landholder in the parish. In the uninclosed parishes in Warwickshire and other countries, their method of tillage is thus. The land is divided into three fields, one of which is every year fallow. This the farmers plough and manure, and prepare for bearing wheat. Betwixt the lands and at the end of them, some little grass land is interspersed, and there are here and there, some little patches of given swerd. The next year this ploughed field bears wheat, and the grass land is preserved for hay; and the year following the proprietors sow it with beans, oats, or barley, at their discretion; and the next year it lies fallow again; so that each field in its turn is fallow every third year; and the field thus fallowed is called the common field, on which the cows and sheep graze, and have herdsmen and shepherds to attend them, in order to prevent them from going into the two other fields which bear corn and grass. These last are called the severell, which is not separated from the common by any fence whatever; but the care of preventing the cattle from going into the severell is left to the herdsmen and shepherds; but the herdsmen have no authority over the town bull, who is permitted to go where he pleases in the severell. Dr. James. Holinshed's Description of Britain, p. 33, and Leigh's Accedence of Armourie, 1597, p. 52. spell this word like Shakespeare. Leigh mentions the town bull, and says, “all severals to him are common.” Tollet.

Note return to page 693 4His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,] That is, his tongue being impatiently desirous to see as well as speak. Johnson.

Note return to page 694 5To feel only looking &lblank;] Perhaps we may better read: To feed only by looking &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 695 6Boyet. You are too hard for me.] Here, in all the books, the 2d act is made to end: but in my opinion very mistakenly. I have ventured to vary the regulation of the four last acts from the printed copies, for these reasons. Hitherto the 2d act has been of the extent of seven pages; the 3d of but five; and the 5th of no less than twenty-nine. And this disproportion of length has crowded too many incidents into some acts, and left the others quite barren. I have now reduced them into a much better equality; and distributed the business likewise, (such as it is) into a more uniform cast. Theobald. Mr. Theobald has reason enough to propose this alteration, but he should not have made it in his book without better authority or more need. I have therefore preserved his observation, but continued the former division. Johnson.

Note return to page 696 7Enter Armado and Moth.] In the folios the direction is, enter Braggart and Moth, and at the beginning of every speech of Armado stands Brag. both in this and the foregoing scene between him and his boy. The other personages of this play are likewise noted by their characters as often as by their names. All this confusion has been well regulated by the later editors. Johnson.

Note return to page 697 8Concolinel &lblank;] Here is apparently a song lost. Johnson. I have observed in the old comedies, that the songs are frequently omitted. On this occasion the stage direction is generally —Here they sing—or Cantant. Probably the performer was left to chuse his own ditty, and therefore it could not with propriety be exhibited as part of a new performance. Sometimes yet more was left to the discretion of the ancient comedians, as I learn from the following circumstance in K. Edward IV. 2d p. 1619:—“Jockey is led whipping over the stage, speaking some words, but of no importance.” Again, in Greene's Tu Quoque, 1599: “Here they two talk and rail what they list.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “He places all things in order, singing with the ends of old ballads as he does it.” Again, in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, 1604: “Cantat Gallice.” But no song is set down. Again, in the 5th Act: “Cantat saltatque cum Cithara.” Not one out of the many songs supposed to be sung in Marston's Antonio's Revenge, 1602, are inserted; but instead of them, cantant. Steevens.

Note return to page 698 9&lblank; festinately hither;] i. e. hastily. Shakespeare uses the adjective festinate, in another of his plays. Steevens.

Note return to page 699 1a French brawl?] A brawl is a kind of dance. Ben Jonson mentions it in one of his masques:   “And thence did Venus learn to lead “Th' Idalian brawls, &c.” In the Malcontent of Marston, I meet with the following account of it. “The brawl, why 'tis but two singles to the left, two on the right, three doubles forwards, a traverse of six rounds: do this twice, three singles side galliard trick of twenty coranto pace; a figure of eight, three singles broken down, come up, meet two doubles, fall back, and then honour.” Again, in B. Jonson's masque of Time Vindicated: “The Graces did them footing teach; “And, at the old Idalian brawls, “They danc'd your mother down.” Steevens. So, in Massinger's Picture, act II. sc. ii: “'Tis a French brawl, an apish imitation “Of what you really perform in battle.” Tollet.

Note return to page 700 2canary to it with your feet,] Canary was the name of a spritely nimble dance. Theobald.

Note return to page 701 3like a man after the old painting;] It was a common trick among some of the most indolent of the ancient masters, to place the hands in the bosom or the pockets, or conceal them in some other part of the drapery, to avoid the labour of representing them, or to disguise their own want of skill to employ them with grace and propriety. Steevens.

Note return to page 702 4These are complements,] Dr. Warburton has here changed complements to 'complishments, for accomplishments, but unnecessarily. Johnson.

Note return to page 703 5these betray, &c.] The former editors:—these betray nice wenches, that would be betray'd without these, and make them men of note. But who will ever believe, that the odd attitudes and affectations of lovers, by which they betray young wenches, should have power to make these young wenches men of note? His meaning is, that they not only inveigle the young girls, but make the men taken notice of too, who affect them. Theobald.

Note return to page 704 6By my pen of observation.] Sir T. Hanmer reads: “by my penny of observation;” and this is certainly right. The allusion is to the famous old piece, called a Penniworth of Wit. Farmer.

Note return to page 705 7Arm. But O,—but O— Moth.—the hobby-horse is forgot.] In the celebration of May-day, besides the sports now used of hanging a pole with garlands, and dancing round it, formerly a boy was dressed up representing Maid Marian; another like a fryar; and another rode on a hobby-horse, with bells jingling, and painted streamers. After the Reformation took place, and precisians multiplied, these latter rites were looked upon to savour of paganism; and then maid Marian, the friar, and the poor hobby-horse, were turned out of the games. Some who were not so wisely precise, but regretted the disuse of the hobby-horse, no doubt, satirized this suspicion of idolatry, and archly wrote the epitaph above alluded to. Now Moth, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out, But oh! but oh!—humourously pieces out his exclamation with the sequel of this epitaph. Theobald. The same line is repeated in Hamlet. See the note on act III. sc. ii. Steevens.

Note return to page 706 8but a colt,] Colt is a hot, mad-brained, unbroken young fellow; or sometimes an old fellow with youthful desires. Johnson.

Note return to page 707 9You are too swift, sir, to say so.] How is he too swift for saying that lead is slow? I fancy we should read, as well to supply the rhyme as the sense: You are too swift, sir, to say so so soon: Is that lead slow, sir, which is fir'd from a gun? Johnson. The meaning, I believe, is, You do not give yourself time to think, if you say so. Swift, however, means ready at replies. So, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “I have eaten but two spoonfuls, and methinks I could discourse both swiftly and wittily already. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0250 Swift is here used, as in other places, synonymously with witty. I suppose the meaning of Atalanta's better part, in As You Like It, is her wit—the swiftness of her mind. Farmer.

Note return to page 708 1By thy favour, sweet welkin, &lblank;] Welkin is the sky, to which Armado, with the false dignity of a Spaniard, makes an apology for sighing in its face. Johnson.

Note return to page 709 2here's a Costard broken &lblank;] i. e. a head. So, in Hycke Scorner: “I wyll rappe you on the costard with my horne.” Steevens.

Note return to page 710 3no l'envoy;] The l'envoy is a term borrowed from the old French poetry. It appeared always at the head of a few concluding verses to each piece, which either served to convey the moral, or to address the poem to some particular person. It was frequently adopted by the ancient English writers. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “Well said: now to the L'Envoy.”—All the Tragedies of John Bochas, translated by Lidgate, are followed by a L'Envoy. Steevens.

Note return to page 711 4no salve, in the male, sir.] The old folio reads, no salve in thee male, sir, which, in another folio, is, no salve, in the male, sir. What it can mean is not easily discovered: if mail for a packet or bag was a word then in use, no salve in the mail may mean, no salve in the mountebank's budget. Or shall we read, no enigma, no riddle, no l'envoy—in the vale, sir—O, sir, plantain. The matter is not great, but one would wish for some meaning or other. Johnson. Male or mail was a word then in use. Reynard the fox sent Kayward's head in a male. And, so, in Tamburlane, or the Scythian Shepherd, 1590: “Open the males, yet guard the treasure sure.” I believe Dr. Johnson's first explanation to be right. Steevens. I can scarcely think that Shakespeare had so far forgotten his little school learning, as to suppose that the Latin verb salve, and the English substantive, salve, had the same pronunciation; and yet without this, the quibble cannot be preserved. Farmer. The same quibble occurs in Aristippus, or the Jovial Philosopher, 1630: “Salve, Master Simplicius. “Salve me; 'tis but a Surgeon's compliment.” Steevens. No salve in the male, sir, may mean, “I will have none of all the salves you have in the male:” treating him as a mountebank. Musgrave. Perhaps we should read—no salve in them all, sir. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 712 5I will example it:] These words, and some others, are neither in the first folio, nor in the 4to 1631, but in that of 1598. I still believe the whole passage to want some regulation, though it has not sufficient merit to encourage the editor who should attempt it. Steevens.

Note return to page 713 6And he ended the market.] Alluding to the proverb—Three women and a goose make a market. Tre donne et un occa fan un mercato. Ital. Ray's Proverbs. Steevens.

Note return to page 714 7how was there a Costard broken in a shin?] Costard is the name of a species of apple. Johnson. It has been already observed that the head was anciently called the costard. So, in K. Rich. III. “Take him over the costard with the hilt of thy sword.” A costard likewise signified a crab-stick. So, in the Loyal Subject of B. and Fletcher: “I hope they'll crown his service.” &lblank; “With a costard.” Steevens.

Note return to page 715 8Like the sequel, I.] Sequele, in French, signifies a great man's train. The joke is, that a single page was all his train. Warburton. I believe this joke exists only in the apprehension of the commentator. Sequelle, by the French, is never employed but in a derogatory sense. They use it to express the gang of a highwayman, but not the train of a lord; the followers of a rebel, and not the attendants on a general. Thus Holinshed, p. 639.—“to the intent that by the extinction of him and his sequeale, all civil warre and inward division might cease, &c.” Moth uses sequel only in the literary acceptation. Steevens.

Note return to page 716 9&lblank; my incony Jew!] Incony or kony in the north signifies, fine, delicate—as a kony thing, a fine thing. It is plain therefore, we should read: &lblank; my incony jewel. Warburton. I know not whether it be right, however specious, to change Jew to Jewel. Jew, in our author's time, was, for whatever reason, apparently a word of endearment. So, in the Midsummer-Night's Dream: “Most brisky Juvenile, and eke most lovely Jew.” Johnson. The word is used again in the 4th act of this play: “&lblank; most incony vulgar wit.” In the old comedy called Blurt Master Constable, 1602. I meet with it again. A maid is speaking to her mistress about a gown: “&lblank; it makes you have a most inconie body.” Cony and incony have the same meaning. So, Metaphor says in Jonson's Tale of a Tub: “O superdainty canon, vicar inconey.” Again, in the Two angry Women of Abingdon, 1599: “O I have sport inconey i'faith.” Again, in Marlow's Jew of Malta, 1633: “While I in thy incony lap do tumble.” Again, in Doctor Dodypoll, a comedy, 1600: “A cockscomb incony, but that he wants money.” Steevens.

Note return to page 717 1No, I'll give you a remuneration: Why? it carries its remuneration. Why? it is a fairer name than a French crown.] Thus this passage has hitherto been writ, and pointed, without any regard to common sense, or meaning. The reform, that I have made, slight as it is, makes it both intelligible and humorous. Theobald.

Note return to page 718 2Guerdon] i. e. reward. So, in the Spanish Tragedy: “Speak on, I'll guerdon thee, whate'er it be.” Again, “And hope for guerdon of my villainy.” Again, “Yet speak the truth and I will guerdon thee.” Again, in Wily Beguil'd: “I hope, as guerdon for my just desert.” Steevens.

Note return to page 719 3in print.] i. e. exactly, with the utmost nicety. It has been proposed to me to read in point, but, I think, without necessity, the former expression being still in use. Steevens. &lblank; I will do it, Sir, in print. So, Ben Jonson, vol. IV. p. 140, Whalley's edit: “&lblank; sits my ruff well? “Lin. In print.” Again, vol. I. Every Man out of his Humour. (p. 195.) “O, you are a gallant in print now, brother.” Tyrwhitt. So, again in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “I am sure my husband is a man in print, in all things else.” Again, in Woman is a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; this doublet sits in print, my lord.” Again, in Blurt Master. Constable: “Next, your ruff must stand in print.” Steevens.

Note return to page 720 4This wimpled &lblank;] The wimple was a hood or veil which fell over the face. Had Shakespeare been acquainted with the flammeum of the Romans, or the gem which represents the marriage of Cupid and Psyche, his choice of the epithet would have been much applauded by all the advocates in favour of his learning. In Isaiah, ch. iii. v. 22. we find:—“ the mantles, and “the wimples, and the crisping-pins;” and, in The Devil's Charter, 1607, to wimple is used as a verb: “Here, I perceive a little rivelling “Above my forehead, but I wimple it, “Either with jewels, or a lock of hair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 721 5This signior Junio's giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;] It was some time ago ingeniously hinted to me, (and I readily came into the opinion) that as there was a contrast of terms in giant-dwarf, so, probably, there should be in the word immediately preceding them; and therefore that we should restore: This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid. i. e. this old young man. And there is, indeed, afterwards, in this play, a description of Cupid which sorts very aptly with such an emendation: That was the way to make his godhead wax, For he hath been five thousand years a boy. The conjecture is exquisitely well imagined, and ought by all means to be embraced unless there is reason to think, that, in the former reading, there is an allusion to some tale, or character in an old play. I have not, on this account, ventured to disturb the text, because there seems to me some reason to suspect, that our author is here alluding to Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca. In that tragedy there is the character of one Junius, a Roman captain, who falls in love to distraction with one of Bonduca's daughters; and becomes an arrant whining slave to this passion. He is afterwards cured of his infirmity, and is as absolute a tyrant against the sex. Now, with regard to these two extremes, Cupid might very probably be styled Junius's giant-dwarf; a giant in his eye, while the dotage was upon him; but shrunk into a dwarf, so soon as he had got the better of it. Theobald. Mr. Upton has made a very ingenious conjecture on this passage. He reads: This signior Julio's giant-dwarf &lblank; Shakespeare, says he, intended to compliment Julio Romano, who drew Cupid in the character of a giant-dwarf. Dr. Warburton thinks, that by Junio is meant youth in general. Johnson. There is no reason to suppose that Beaumont's and Fletcher's Bonduca was written so early as the year 1598, when this play appeared. Even if it was then published, the supposed allusion to the character of Junius is forced and improbable; and who, in support of Upton's conjecture will ascertain, that Julio Romano ever drew Cupid as a giant-dwarf? Shakespeare, in K. Rich. III. act IV. sc. iv. uses signory for seniority; and Stowe's Chronicle, p. 149. Edit. 1614, speaks of Edward the signior, i. e. the elder. I can therefore suppose that signor here means senior, and not the Italian title of honour. Thus in the first folio, at the end of the Comedy of Errors: “S. Dro. Not I, sir; you are my elder. “E. Dro. That's a question: how shall we try it? “S. Dro. We'll draw cuts for the signior. Tollet.

Note return to page 722 6Of trotting paritors: &lblank;] An apparitor or paritor, is an officer of the bishop's court, who carries out citations; as citations are most frequently issued for fornication, the paritor is put under Cupid's government. Johnson.

Note return to page 723 7And I to be a corporal of his file, &c.] In former editions: And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! A corporal of a field is quite a new term: neither did the tumblers ever adorn their hoops with ribbands, that I can learn: for those were not carried in parade about with them, as the fencer carries his sword: nor, if they were, is the similitude at all pertinent to the case in hand. I read: &lblank; like a tumbler stoop. To stoop like a tumbler agrees not only with that profession, and the servile condescensions of a lover, but with what follows in the context. The wise transcribers, when once the tumbler appeared, thought his hoop must not be far behind. Warburton. The conceit seems to be very forced and remote, however it be understood. The notion is not that the hoop wears colours, but that the colours are worn as a tumbler carries his hoop, hanging on one shoulder and falling under the opposite arm. Johnson. Perhaps the tumblers' hoops were adorned with their master's colours, or with ribbands. To wear his colours, means to wear his badge or cognisance, or to be his servant or retainer. So, in Holinshed's Hist. of Scotland, p. 301: “The earle of Surrie gave to his servants this cognisance (to wear on their left arm) which was a white lyon, &c.” So, in Stowe's Annals, p. 274. “All that ware the dukes sign, or colours, were faine to hide them, conveying them from their necks into their bosome.” Again, in Selden's Duello, chap. ii: “His esquires cloathed in his colours.” Biron banters himself upon being a corporal of Cupid's field, and a servant of that great general and imperator. Tollet. It was once a mark of gallantry to wear a lady's colours. So, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “—dispatches his lacquey to the chamber early to know what her colours are for the day, with purpose to apply his wear that day accordingly, &c.” I am informed by a lady who remembers morris-dancing, that the character who tumbled, always carried his hoop dressed out with ribbands, and in the position described by Dr. Johnson. Steevens. Corporals of the field are mentioned in Carew's Survey of Cornwall; and Raleigh speaks of them twice, vol. i. p. 103. vol. ii. p. 367, edit. 1751. Tollet. This officer is likewise mentioned in Ben Jonson's New Inn: “As corporal of the field, maestro del campo.” Giles Clayton, in his Martial Discipline, 1591, has a chapter on the office and duty of a corporal of the field. In one of Drake's Voyages, it appears, that the captains Morgan and Sampson by this name, “had commandement over the rest of the land-captaines.” Brokesby tells us, that “Mr. Dodwell's father was in an office then known by the name of corporal of the field, which he said was equal to that of a captain of horse.” Farmer. It appears from Lord Strafford's Letters, vol. ii. p. 199, that a corporal of the field was employed as an aid-de-camp is now, “in taking and carrying too and fro the directions of the general, or other the higher officers of the field.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 724 8What? what? I love!] The second what has been supplied by the editors. I should like better to read—What? I! I love! Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 725 9&lblank; like a German clock, Still a repairing; &lblank;] The same allusion occurs in Westward-Hoe, by Decker and Webster, 1607:—“no German clock, no mathematical engine whatsoever, requires so much reparation, &c.” Again, in A Mad World my Masters, 1608: “&lblank; she consists of a hundred pieces, “Much like your German clock, and near allied: “Both are so nice they cannot go for pride. “Besides a greater fault, but too well known, “They'll strike to ten when they should stop at one.” Ben Jonson has the same thought in his Silent Woman, and B. and Fletcher in Wit without Money. The following extract is taken from a book called The Artificial Clock-Maker, 3d edit. 1714:—“Clock-making was supposed to have had its beginning in Germany within less than these two hundred years. It is very probable, that our balance-clocks or watches, and some other automata, might have had their beginning there; &c.” Again, p. 91.—“Little worth remark is to be found till towards the 16th century; and then clock, work was revived or wholly invented anew in Germany, as is generally thought, because the ancient pieces are of German work.” A skilful watch-maker informs me, that clocks have not been commonly made in England much more than one hundred years backward. To the inartificial construction of these first pieces of mechanism executed in Germany, we may suppose Shakespeare alludes. The clock at Hampton-Court, which was set up in 1540, (as appears from the inscription affixed to it) is said to be the first ever fabricated in England. Steevens.

Note return to page 726 1Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.] To this line Mr. Theobald extends his second act, not injudiciously, but, was before observed, without sufficient authority. Johnson.

Note return to page 727 2Here, good my glass, &lblank;] To understand how the princess has her glass so ready at hand in a casual conversation, it must be remembered that in those days it was the fashion among the French ladies to wear a looking-glass, as Mr. Bayle coarsely represents it, on their bellies; that is, to have a small mirrour set in gold hanging at the girdle, by which they occasionally viewed their faces or adjusted their hair. Johnson. Dr. Johnson, perhaps, is mistaken. She had no occasion to have recourse to any other looking-glass than the Forester, whom she rewards for having shewn her to herself as in a mirror. Steevens. Whatever be the interpretation of this passage, Dr. Johnson is right in the historical fact. Stubbs, in his Anatomie of Abuses, is very indignant at the ladies for it: “They must have their looking-glasses carried with them, wheresoever they go; and good reason, for how else could they see the devil in them? And, in Massinger's City Madam, several women are introduced with looking-glasses at their girdles. Farmer. Again, in the Ladies Priviledge, 1640: “&lblank; I would not have a lady “That wears a glass about her, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 728 3When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart.] The harmony of the measure, the easiness of the expression, and the good sense in the thought, all concur to recommend these two lines to the reader's notice. Warburton.

Note return to page 729 4&lblank; that my heart means no ill.] We should read: &lblank; though my heart &lblank; Warburton. That my heart means no ill, is the same with to whom my heart means no ill: the common phrase suppresses the particle, as I mean him [not to him] no harm. Johnson

Note return to page 730 5&lblank; a member of the commonwealth.] Here, I believe, is a kind of jest intended: a member of the common-wealth is put for one of the common people, one of the meanest. Johnson.

Note return to page 731 6An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One of these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit.] And was not one of her maids' girdles fit for her? It is plain that my and your have all the way changed places, by some accident or other; and that the lines should be read thus: An my waste, mistress, was as slender as your wit, One of these maids' girdles for my waste should be fit. These lines are humourous enough, both as reflecting on his own gross shape, and her slender wit. Warburton. This conjecture is ingenious enough, but not well considered. It is plain that the ladies' girdles would not fit the princess. For when she has referred the clown to the thickest and the tallest, he turns immediately to her with the blunt apology, truth is truth; and again tells her, you are the thickest here. If any alteration is to be made, I should propose: An your waist, mistress, were as slender as your wit. This would point the reply; but perhaps he mentions the slenderness of his own wit to excuse his bluntness. Johnson.

Note return to page 732 7&lblank; Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon.] i. e. open this letter. Our poet uses this metaphor, as the French do their poulet; which signifies both a young fowl and a love-letter. Poulet, amatoriæ literæ, says Richelet; and quotes from Voiture, Repondre au plus obligeant poulet du monde; to reply to the most obliging letter in the world. The Italians use the same manner of expression, when they call a love-epistle, una pollicetta amorosa. I owed the hint of this equivocal use of the word to my ingenious friend Mr. Bishop. Theobald. Henry IV. consulting with Sully about his marriage, says, “my niece of Guise would please me best, notwithstanding the malicious reports, that she loves poulets in paper, better than in a fricasee.”—A message is called a cold pigeon, in the letter concerning the entertainments at Killingworth Castle. Farmer. To break up was a peculiar phrase in carving. Percy. So, in Westward-Hoc, by Decker and Webster, 1607: at “the skirt of that sheet, in black-work is wrought his name: break not up the wild-fowl till anon.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Gipsies Metamorphosed: “A London cuckold hot from the spit, “And when the carver up had broke him, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 733 8Break the neck of the wax, &lblank;] Still alluding to the capon. Johnson. So, in the True Tragedies of Marius and Scilla, 1594: “Lectorius read, and break these letters up.” Steevens. One of Lord Chesterfield's Letters, 8vo. vol. iii. p. 114, gives us the reason why poulet meant amatoria litera. Tollet.

Note return to page 734 9More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer &c.] I would read, fairer than fair, more beautiful, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 735 1Illustrate for illustrious. It is often used by Chapman in his translation of Homer. Steevens.

Note return to page 736 2king Cophetua.] This story is again alluded to in Henry IV: “Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof.” But of this king and beggar, the story, then doubtless well known, is, I am afraid, lost. Zenelophon has not the appearance of a female name, but since I know not the true name, it is idle to guess. Johnson. The ballad of King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, may be seen in the Reliques of Antient Poetry, vol. i. The beggar's name was Penelophon, here corrupted. Percy. The poet alludes to this song in Romeo and Juliet, Henry IV. 2d part, and Richard II. Steevens.

Note return to page 737 3Thus dost thou hear, &c.] These six lines appear to be a quotation from some ridiculous poem of that time. Warburton.

Note return to page 738 4going o'er it:] A pun upon the word stile. Musgrave.

Note return to page 739 5&lblank; ere while.] Just now; a little while ago. So Raleigh: “Here lies Hobbinol, our shepherd while e'er.” Johnson.

Note return to page 740 6A phantasm,] On the books of the Stationers' Company, Feb. 6, 1608, is entered, “a book called Phantasm, the Italian Taylor and his boy; made by Mr. Armin, servant to his majesty.” It probably contains the history of Monarcho, of whom Mr. Farmer speaks in the following note, to which I have subjoined an additional instance. Steevens.

Note return to page 741 7&lblank; a monarcho; &lblank;] Sir T. Hanmer reads: &lblank; a mammuccio. &lblank; Johnson. The allusion is to a fantastical character of the time.—“Popular applause (says Meres) dooth nourish some, neither do they gape after any other thing, but vaine praise and glorie,— as in our age Peter Shakerlye of Paules, and Monarcho that lived about the court.” p. 178. Farmer. In Nash's Have with you to Saffron-Walden, &c. 1595, I meet with the same allusion:—“but now he was an insulting monarch above Monarcho the Italian, that ware crownes in his shoes, and quite renounced his natural English accents and gestures, and wrested himself wholly to the Italian puntilio's &c.” An allusion of a similar kind remains unexplained in Ben Jonson's Alchemist, act I. sc. i: “&lblank; and a face cut for thee, “Worse than Gamaliel Ratsey's.” Gamaliel Ratsey was a famous highwayman, who always robbed in a mask. I once had in my possession a pamphlet containing his life and exploits. In the title-page of it he is represented with this ugly visor on his face. On the books of the Stationers' Company, May 2, 1605, this book is entered thus: “A book called the lyfe and death of Gamaliel Ratsey, a famous theefe of England, executed at Bedford.” Again, “Twoo balletts of Gamaliel Ratsey, and severall his companie who were executed at Bedford.” Again, “Ratsey's Ghost, or the 2d part of his life, with the rest of his mad pranks, &c.” A local allusion employed by a poet like Shakespeare, resembles the mortal steed that drew in the chariot of Achilles. But short services could be expected from either. Steevens.

Note return to page 742 8&lblank; Come lords, away.] Perhaps the Princess said rather: &lblank; Come, ladies, away. The rest of the scene deserves no care. Johnson.

Note return to page 743 9Who is the shooter?] It should be who is the suitor? and this occasions the quibble. “Finely put on, &c. seem only marginal observations. Farmer. It appears that suitor was anciently pronounced shooter. So, in The Puritan Widow, 1605: tho maid informs her mistress that some archers are come to wait on her. She supposes them to be fletchers, or arrow-smiths. Enter the suters, &c. “Why do you not see them before you? are not these archers, what do you call them, shooters? Shooters and archers are all one, I hope.” Steevens.

Note return to page 744 1queen Guinever] This was king Arthur's queen, not over famous for fidelity to her husband. See the song of the Boy and the Mantle in Dr. Percy's Collection. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady, the elder Loveless addresses Abigail, the old incontinent waiting-woman, by this name. Steevens.

Note return to page 745 2&lblank; the clout.] The clout was the white mark at which archers took their aim. The pin was the wooden nail that upheld it. Steevens.

Note return to page 746 3&lblank; to bear her fan!] See a note on Romeo and Juliet, act II. sc. iv. where Nurse asks Peter for her fan. Steevens.

Note return to page 747 4Enter &lblank; Holofernes,] There is very little personal reflexion in Shakespeare. Either the virtue of those times, or the candour of our author, has so effected, that his satire is, for the most part, general, and, as himself says: &lblank; his taxing like a wild goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. &lblank; The place before us seems to be an exception. For by Holofernes is designed a particular character, a pedant and schoolmaster of our author's time, one John Florio, a teacher of the Italian tongue in London, who has given us a small dictionary of that language under the title of A World of Words, which in his epistle dedicatory he tells us, is of little less value than Stephens's Treasure of the Greek Tongue, the most complete work that was ever yet compiled of its kind. In his preface, he calls those who had criticized his works sea-dogs or land-critics; monsters of men, if not beasts rather than men; whose teeth are canibals, their toongs addars forks, their lips aspes poison, their eyes basiliskes, their breath the breath of a grave, their words like swordes of Turks, that strive which shall dive deepest into a Christian lying bound before them. Well therefore might the mild Nathaniel desire Holofernes to abrogate scurrility. His profession too is the reason that Holofernes deals so much in Italian sentences. There is an edition of Love's Labour's Lost, printed 1598, and said to be presented before her highness this last Christmas, 1597. The next year 1598, comes out our John Florio, with his World of Words, recentibus odiis; and in the preface, quoted above, falls upon the comic poet for bringing him on the stage. There is another sort of leering curs, that rather snarle than bite, whereof I could instance in one, who lighting on a good sonnet of a gentleman's, a friend of mine, that loved better to be a poet than to be counted so, called the author a rymer.—Let Aristophanes and his comedians make plaies, and scowre their mouths on Socrates; those very mouths they make to vilifie, shall be the means to amplifie his virtue, &c. Here Shakespeare is so plainly marked out as not to be mistaken. As to the sonnet of the gentleman his friend, we may be assured it was no other than his own. And without doubt was parodied in the very sonnet beginning with The praiseful princess, &c. in which our author makes Holofernes say, He will something affect the letter; for it argues facility. And how much John Florio thought this affectation argued facility, or quickness of wit, we see in this preface where he falls upon his enemy, H. S. His name is H. S. Do not take it for the Roman H. S. unless it be as H. S. is twice as much and an half, as half an AS. With a great deal more to the same purpose; concluding his preface in these words, The resolute John Florio. From the ferocity of this man's temper it was, that Shakespeare chose for him the name which Rabelais gives to his pedant of Thubal Holoferne. Warburton. I am not of the learned commentator's opinion, that the satire of Shakespeare is so seldom personal. It is of the nature of personal invectives to be soon unintelligible; and the author that gratifies private malice, animam in vulnere ponit, destroys the future efficacy of his own writings, and sacrifices the esteem of succeeding times to the laughter of a day. It is no wonder, therefore, that the sarcasms, which, perhaps, in the authour's time, set the playhouse in a roar, are now lost among general reflections. Yet whether the character of Holofernes was pointed at any particular man, I am, notwithstanding the plausibility of Dr. Warburton's conjecture, inclined to doubt. Every man adheres as long as he can to his own pre-conceptions. Before I read this note I considered the character of Holofernes as borrowed from the Rhombus of sir Philip Sidney, who, in a kind of pastoral entertainment, exhibited to queen Elizabeth, has introduced a school-master so called, speaking a leash of languages at once, and puzzling himself and his auditors with a jargon like that of Holofernes in the present play. Sidney himself might bring the character from Italy; for, as Peacham observes, the school-master has long been one of the ridiculous personages in the farces of that country. Johnson. Dr. Warburton is certainly right in his supposition that Florio is meant by the character of Holofernes. Florio had given the first affront. “The plaies, says he, that they plaie in England, are neither right comedies, nor right tragedies; but representations of histories without any decorum.”—The scraps of Latin and Italian are transcribed from his works, particularly the proverb about Venice, which has been corrupted so much. The affectation of the letter, which argues facilitie, is likewise a copy of his manner. We meet with much of it in the sonnets to his patrons.   “In Italie your lordship well hath seene “Their manners, monuments, magnificence, “Their language learnt, in sound, in stile, in sense,   “Prooving by profiting, where you have beene. —“To adde to fore-learn'd facultie, facilitie.” We see then, the character of the schoolmaster might be written with less learning, than Mr. Colman conjectured: nor is the use of the word thrasonical, any argument that the author had read Terence. It was introduced to our language long before Shakespeare's time. Stanyhurst writes, in a translation of one of Sir Tho. More's epigrams: “Lynckt was in wedlocke a loftye thrasonical hufsnuffe.” It can scarcely be necessary to animadvert any further upon what Mr. Colman has advanced in the Appendix to his Terence. If this gentleman, at his leisure from modern plays, will condescend to open a few old ones, he will soon be satisfied, that Shakespeare was obliged to learn and repeat in the course of his profession, such Latin fragments, as are met with in his works. The formidable one, ira furor brevis est, which is quoted from Timon, may be found, not in plays only, but in every tritical essay from that of king James to that of dean Swift inclusive. I will only add, that if Mr. Colman had previously looked at the panegyrick on Cartwright, he could not so strangely have misrepresented my argument from it: but thus it must ever be with the most ingenious men, when they talk without-book. Let me however take this opportunity of acknowledging the very genteel language which he has been pleased to use on this occasion. Mr. Warton informs us in his Life of Sir Tho. Pope, that there was an old play of Holophernes acted before the princess Elizabeth in the year 1556. Farmer. In support of Mr. Farmer's opinion, the following passage from Orlando Furioso, 1594, may be brought: “&lblank; Knowing him to be a Thrasonical mad-cap, they have sent me a Gnathonical companion, &c.” Greene, in the dedication to his Arcadia, has the same word: “&lblank; as of some thrasonical huffe-snuffe.” Florio's first work is, registred on the books of the Stationers' Company, under the following title. “Aug. 1578. Florio his first Frute, being Dialogues in Italian and English, with certen Instructions, &c. to the learning the Italian Tonge.” In 1595, he dedicated his Italian and English dictionary to the earl of Southampton. In the year 1600, he published his translation of Montaigne. Florio pointed his ridicule not only at dramatic performances, but, even at performers. Thus, in his preface to this work, “&lblank; as if an owle should represent an eagle, or some tara-rag player should act the princely Telephus with a voyce as rag'd as his clothes, a grace as bad as his voyce.” Steevens.

Note return to page 748 5&lblank; sanguis, in blood;] I suppose we should read in sanguis, blood. Steevens.

Note return to page 749 6&lblank; ripe as a pomewater,] A species of apple, formerly much esteemed. Malus Carbonaria. See Gerard's Herbal, edit. 1597. p. 1273. Steevens.

Note return to page 750 7'twas a pricket.] In a play called The Return from Parnassus, 1606, I find the following account of the different appellations of deer, at their different ages: “Amoretto. I caused the keeper to sever the rascal deer from the bucks of the first head. Now, sir, a buck is the first year, a fawn; the second year, a pricket; the third year, a sorell; the fourth year, a soare; the fifth, a buck of the first head; the sixth year, a compleat buck. Likewise your hart is the first year, a calfe; the second year, a brocket; the third year, a spade; the fourth year, a stag; the sixth year, a hart. A roe-buck is the first year, a kid; the second year, a girl; the third year, a hemuse; and these are your special beasts for chase.” Again, in A Christian turn'd Turk, 1612:—“I am but a pricket, a mere sorell; my head's not harden'd yet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 751 8And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be, Which we taste, and feeling are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.] The words have been ridiculously, and stupidly, transposed and corrupted. I read, we thankful should be for those parts (which we taste and feel ingradare) that do fructify, &c. The emendation I have offered, I hope, restores the author: at least, it gives him sense and grammar: and answers extremely well to his metaphors taken from planting. Ingradare, with the Italians, signifies, to rise higher and higher; andare di grado in grado, to make a progression; and so at length come to fructify, as the poet expresses it. Warburton. Sir T. Hanmer reads thus: And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be, For those parts which we taste and feel do fructify in us more than he. And Mr. Edwards, in his animadversions on Dr. Warburton's notes, applauds the emendation. I think both the editors mistaken, except that sir T. Hanmer found the metre, though he missed the sense. I read, with a slight change: And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be, When we taste and feeling are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he. That is, such barren plants as are exhibited in the creation, to make us thankful when we have more taste and feeling than he, of those parts, or qualities which produce fruit in us, and preserve us from being likewise barren plants. Such is the sense, just in itself and pious, but a little clouded by the diction of sir Nathaniel. The length of these lines was no novelty on the English stage. The moralities afford scenes of the like measure. Johnson. This stubborn piece of nonsense, as somebody has called it, wants only a particle, I think, to make it sense. I would read: And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts, that do fructify in us more than he. Which in this passage has the force of as, according to an idiom of our language, not uncommon, though not strictly grammatical. What follows is still more irregular; for I am afraid our poet, for the sake of his rime, has put he for him, or rather in him. If he had been writing prose, he would have expressed his meaning, I believe, more clearly thus—that do fructify in us more than in him. Tyrwhitt. I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 752 9For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool; So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school.] The meaning is, to be in a school would as ill become a patch, or low fellow, as folly would become me. Johnson.

Note return to page 753 1And raught not] i. e. reach'd not. So, in the Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “&lblank; the fatal fruit “Raught from the golden tree of Proserpine. Steevens.

Note return to page 754 2The allusion holds in the exchange.] i. e. the riddle is as good when I use the name of Adam, as when you use the name of Cain. Warburton.

Note return to page 755 3The praiseful princess, &c.] The ridicule designed in this passage may not be unhappily illustrated by the alliteration in the following lines of Ulpian Fullwell, in his Commemoration of queen Anne Bullayne, which makes part of a collection called The Flower of Fame, printed 1575: “Whose princely praise hath pearst the pricke, “And price of endless fame, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 756 4Makes fifty sores, O sorel!] We should read: &lblank; of sore L, alluding to L being the numeral for 50. Warburton.

Note return to page 757 5if their daughters be capable, &c.] Of this double entendre, despicable as it is, Mr. Pope and his coadjutors availed themselves, in their unsuccessful comedy called Three Hours after Marriage. Steevens.

Note return to page 758 6&lblank; quasi person.] So in Holinshed, p. 953: “Jerom was vicar of Stepnie, and Garard was person of Honie-lane.” I believe, however, we should write the word—persone. The same play on the word pierce is put into the mouth of Falstaff. Steevens.

Note return to page 759 7Nath. Fauste, precor gelida] Though all the editions concur to give this speech to sir Nathaniel, yet, as Dr. Thirlby ingeniously observed to me, it is evident it must belong to Holofernes. The Curate is employed in reading the letter to himself; and while he is doing so, that the stage may not stand still, Holofernes either pulls out a book, or, repeating some verse by heart from Mantuanus, comments upon the character of that poet. Baptista Spagnolus (sirnamed Mantuanus, from the place of his birth) was a writer of poems, who flourished towards the latter end of the 15th century. Theobald. Fauste, precor gelida &c.] A note of La Monnoye's on these very words in Les Contes des Periers, Nov. 42. will explain the humour of the quotation, and shew how well Shakespeare has sustained the character of his pedant.—Il designe le Carme Baptiste Mantuan, dont au commencement du 16 siecle on lisoit publiquement à Paris les Poesies; si celebres alors, que, comme dit plaisamment Farnabe dans sa preface sur Martial, les Pedans ne faisoient nulle difficulté de preferer à le Arma virumque cano, le Fauste precor gelida, c'est-a-dire, à l' Eneide de Virgile les Eclogues de Mantuan, la premiere desquelles commence par Fauste, precor gelida. Warburton. The Eclogues of Mantuanus the Carmelite were translated before the time of Shakespeare, and the Latin printed on the opposite side of the page. Steevens.

Note return to page 760 8&lblank; Vinegia, vinegia, Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia.] In old editions: Venechi, venache a, qui non te vide, i non te piaech. And thus Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope. But that poets, scholars, and linguists, could not restore this little scrap of true Italian, is to me unaccountable. Our author is applying the praises of Mantuanus to a common proverbial sentence, said of Venice. Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia. O Venice, Venice, he who has never seen thee, has thee not in esteem. Theobald. The proverb, as I am informed, is this; He that sees Venice little, values it much; he that sees it much, values it little. But I suppose Mr. Theobald is right, for the true proverb would not serve the speaker's purpose. Johnson. The proverb stands thus in Howell's Letters, book i. sect. 1. l. 36. Venetia, Venetia, chi non te vede, non te pregia, Ma chi t' ha troppo veduto te dispregia. Venice, Venice, none thee unseen can prize; Who thee hath seen too much, will thee despise. The players in their edition, have thus printed the first line. Vemchie, vencha, que non te unde, que non te perreche. Steevens.

Note return to page 761 9Nath. Here are only numbers ratified;] Though this speech has all along been placed to sir Nathaniel, I have ventured to join it to the preceding words of Holofernes; and not without reason. The speaker here is impeaching the verses; but sir Nathaniel, as it appears above, thought them learned ones: besides, as Dr. Thirlby observes, almost every word of this speech fathers itself on the pedant. So much for the regulation of it: now, a little, to the contents. And why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention imitary is nothing. Sagacity with a vengeance! I should be ashamed to own myself a piece of a scholar, to pretend to the task of an editor, and to pass such stuff as this upon the world for genuine. Who ever heard of invention imitary? Invention and imitation have ever been accounted two distinct things. The speech is by a pedant, who frequently throws in a word of Latin amongst his English; and he is here flourishing upon the merit of invention, beyond that of imitation, or copying after another. My correction makes the whole so plain and intelligible, that, I think, it carries conviction along with it. Theobald. This pedantry appears to have been common in the age of Shakespeare. The author of Lingua, or the Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority, 1607, takes particular notice of it: “I remember, about the year 1602, many used this skew kind of language, which, in my opinion, is not much unlike the man, whom Platony, the son of Lagus, king of Egypt, brought for a spectacle, half white half black.” Steevens.

Note return to page 762 1Ovidius Naso was the man:] Our author makes his pedant affect the being conversant with the best authors: contrary to the practice of modern wits, who represent them as despisers of all such. But those who know the world, know the pedant to be the greatest affecter of politeness. Warburton.

Note return to page 763 2so doth the bound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider.] The pedant here, to run down imitation, shews that it is a quality within the capacity of beasts: that the dog and the ape are taught to copy tricks by their master and keeper; and so is the tired horse by his rider. This last is a wonderful instance; but it happens not to be true. The author must have wrote— the tryed horse his rider: i. e. one exercised and broke to the manage: for he obeys every sign, and motion of the rein, or of his rider. So, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, the word is used in the sense of trained, exercised: “And how he cannot be a perfect man, “Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world.” Warburton. The tired horse was the horse adorned with ribands,—The famous Banks's horse so often alluded to. Lilly, in his Mother Bombie, brings in a Hackneyman and Mr. Halfpenny at cross-purposes with this word: “Why didst thou boare the horse through the eares?” “—It was for tiring.” “He would never tire,” replies the other.” Farmer. So, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, Part ii. 1602: “Slink to thy chamber then and tyre thee.” Again, in What you will, by Marston, 1606: “My love hath tyred some fidler like Albano.” Malone.

Note return to page 764 3Trip and go, my sweet;] So, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, by Nashe, 1600: “Trip and go, heave and hoe, “Up and down, to and fro.—” Perhaps originally the burthen of a song. Malone.

Note return to page 765 4colourable colours.] That is specious, or fair seeming appearances. Johnson.

Note return to page 766 5&lblank; (being repast)] it has been proposed to read, before repast. Steevens.

Note return to page 767 6I am toiling in a pitch;] Alluding to lady Rosaline's complexion, who is through the whole play represented as a black beauty. Johnson.

Note return to page 768 7The night of dew, that on my cheeks down flows:] I cannot think the night of dew the true reading, but know not what to offer. Johnson. This phrase, however quaint, is the poet's own. He means, the dew that nightly flows down his cheeks. Shakespeare, in one of his other plays, uses night of dew for dewy night, but I cannot at present recollect, in which. Steevens. Why not dew of night? Musgrave.

Note return to page 769 8&lblank; he comes in like a perjure, &lblank;] The punishment of perjury is to wear on the breast a paper expressing the crime. Johnson. Thus Holinshed, p. 838, speaking of cardinal Wolsey, “—he so punished perjurie with open punishment, and open papers wearing, that in his time it was lesse used.” Steevens.

Note return to page 770 9Oh, rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose: Disfigure not his shop.] All the editions happen to concur in this error: but what agreement in sense is there between Cupid's hose and his shop? or, what relation can those two terms have to one another? or, what, indeed, can be understood by Cupid's shop? It must undoubtedly be corrected, as I have reformed the text. Slops are large and wide-knee'd breeches, the garb in fashion in our author's days, as we may observe from old family pictures; but they are now worn only by boors and sea-faring men: and we have dealers whose sole business it is to furnish the sailors with shirts, jackets, &c. who are called slop-men, and their shops, slop-shops. Theobald. I suppose this alludes to the usual taudry dress of Cupid, when he appeared on the stage. In an old translation of Casa's Galateo is this precept: “Thou must wear no garments, that be over much daubde with garding: that men may not say, thou hast Ganimedes hosen, or Cupides doublet.” Farmer.

Note return to page 771 1&lblank; the liver vein, &lblank;] The liver was anciently supposed to be the seat of love. Johnson.

Note return to page 772 2all hid, all hid,] The children's cry at hide and seek. Musgrave.

Note return to page 773 3By earth, she is but corporal, there you lie.] Old edition: By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie. Dumain, one of the lovers, in spite of his vow to the contrary, thinking himself alone here, breaks out into short soliloquies of admiration on his mistress; and Biron, who stands behind as an eves-dropper, takes pleasure in contradicting his amorous raptures. But Dumain was a young lord: he had no sort of post in the army: what wit, or allusion, then, can there be in Biron's calling him corporal? I dare warrant, I have restored the poet's true meaning, which is this. Dumain calls his mistress divine, and the wonder of a mortal eye; and Biron in flat terms denies these hyperbolical praises. I scarce need hint, that our poet commonly uses corporal as corporeal. Theobald. Theobald's emendation is plausible, but perhaps unnecessary. The passage may be thus explained. Dumain swears first, by heaven, that she is the wonder of a mortal eye. Biron seems in his reply to mean, Swear next by earth, that she is not corporeal; and when you have carried matters so far, I shall not scruple to tell you in yet plainer terms, that you lie. Steevens.

Note return to page 774 4&lblank; amber coted.] To cote is to outstrip, to overpass. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; certain players “We coted on the way.” Again, in Chapman's Homer: “&lblank; Words her worth had prov'd with deeds, “Had more ground been allow'd the race, and coted far his steeds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 775 5&lblank; but a fever she Reigns in my blood.] So, in Hamlet: “For, like the hectic, in my blood he rages. Steevens.

Note return to page 776 6Air, would I might triumph so!] Perhaps we may better read: Ah! would I might triumph so! Johnson.

Note return to page 777 7&lblank; my hand is sworn,] A copy of this sonnet is printed in England's Helicon, 1614, and reads: “But, alas! my hand hath sworn.” It is likewise printed as Shakespeare's, in Jaggard's Collection, 1599. Steevens.

Note return to page 778 8&lblank; even Jove would swear,] The word even has been supplied; and the two preceding lines are wanting in the copy published in England's Helicon, 1614. Steevens.

Note return to page 779 9&lblank; my true love's fasting pain.] I should rather chuse to read fesiring, rankling. Warburton. There is no need of any alteration. Fasting is longing, hungry, wanting. Johnson.

Note return to page 780 1How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?] We should certainly read, geap, i. e. jeer, ridicule. Warburton. To leap is to exult, to skip for joy. It must stand. Johnson.

Note return to page 781 2Your eyes do make no coaches;] Alluding to a passage in the king's sonnet: “No drop but as a coach doth carry thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 782 3To see a king transformed to a knot!] Knot has no sense that can suit this place. We may read sot. The rhimes in this play are such, as that sat and sot may be well enough admitted. Johnson. A knot is, I believe, a true lover's knot, meaning that the king &lblank; lay'd his wreathed arms athwart His loving bosom so long, i. e. remained so long in the lover's posture, that he seemed actually transformed into a knot. The word sat is in some counties pronounced sot. This may account for the seeming want of exact rhime. In the old comedy of Albumazar, the same thought occurs: “Why should I twine my arms to cables?” So, in the Tempest: “&lblank; sitting, “His arms in this sad knot.” Again, in Titus Andronicus: “Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: “Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, “And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief “With folded arms. Again, in the Raging Turk, 1631: “&lblank; as he walk'd “Folding his arms up in a pensive knot.” The old copy, however, reads—a gnat, and Mr. Tollet seems to think it contains an allusion to St. Matthew, ch. xxiii. v. 24. where the metaphorical term of a gnat means a thing of least importance, or what is proverbially small. The smallness of a gnat is likewise mentioned in Cymbeline. Steevens. A knott is likewise a Lincolnshire bird of the snipe kind. It is foolish even to a proverb, and is said to be easily ensnared. Ray, in his Ornithology, observes, that it took its name from Canute, who was particularly fond of it. The knott is enumerated among other delicacies by sir Epicure Mammon in Ben Jonson's Alchemist: “My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, &c. “Knotts, godwits, &c.” Again, in R. Broome's Northern Lass, 1633: “Six brace of partridges and six pheasants in a dish: godwits, knots, quails, &c.” Again, in the 25th song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “The knot that called was Canutus' bird of old, “Of that great king of Danes his name that still doth hold, “His appetite to please that far and near was sought.” Again, in Ben Jonson's 101st Epigram: “Knot, rail, and ruff too—” Collins.

Note return to page 783 4&lblank; critic Timon &lblank;] ought evidently to be cynic. Warburton. There is no need of change. Critic and critical are used by our author in the same sense as cynic and cynical. Iago, speaking of the fair sex as harshly as is sometimes the practice of Dr. Warburton, declares he is nothing if not critical. Steevens.

Note return to page 784 5With men-like men &lblank;] This is a strange senseless line, and should be read thus: “With vane-like men, of strange inconstancy. Warburton This is well imagined, but perhaps the poet may mean, with men like common men. Johnson. I believe the emendation is proper. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “If speaking, why a vane blown with all winds. Steevens.

Note return to page 785 6In pruning me?] A bird is said to prune himself when he picks and sleeks his feathers. So, in K. Henry IV. Part I: “Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up “The crest of youth” &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 786 8She (an attending star) &lblank;] Something like this is a stanza of sir Henry Wotton, of which the poetical reader will forgive the insertion: &lblank; Ye stars, the train of night,   That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light:   Ye common people of the skies, What are ye when the sun shall rise? Johnson.

Note return to page 787 9Is ebony like her? O word divine!] This is the reading of all the editions that I have seen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewise conjectured,) &lblank; O wood divine! Theobald.

Note return to page 788 1&lblank; Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night;] In former editions, &lblank; the school of night. Black being the school of night, is a piece of mystery above my comprehension. I had guessed, it should be: &lblank; the stole of night: but I have preferred the conjecture of my friend Mr. Warburton, who reads: &lblank; the scowl of night, as it comes nearer in pronunciation to the corrupted reading, as well as agrees better with the other images. Theobald.

Note return to page 789 2And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.] This is a contention between two lovers about the preference of a black or white beauty. But, in this reading, he who is contending for the white, takes for granted the thing in dispute; by saying, that white is the crest of beauty. His adversary had just as much reason to call black so. The question debated between them being which was the crest of beauty, black or white. Shakespeare could never write so absurdly: nor has the Oxford editor at all mended the matter by substituting dress for crest. We should read: And beauty's crete becomes the heavens well. i. e. beauty's white, from creta. In this reading the third line is a proper antithesis to the first. I suppose the blunder of the transcriber arose from hence. The French word creste in that pronunciation and orthography is crete, which he understanding, and knowing nothing of the other signification of crete from creta, critically altered it to the English way of spelling, creste. Warburton. This emendation cannot be received till its author can prove that crete is an English word. Besides, crest is here properly opposed to badge, Black, says the king, is the badge of hell, but that which graces the heaven is the crest of beauty. Black darkens hell, and is therefore hateful: white adorns heaven, and is therefore lovely. Johnson. And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well, i. e. the very top, the height of beauty, or the utmost degree of fairness, becomes the heavens. So the word crest is explained by the poet himself in King John: “&lblank; this is the very top, “The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest “Of murder's arms.” In heraldry, a crest is a device placed above a coat of arms. Shakespeare therefore assumes the liberty to use it in a sense equivalent to top or utmost height, as he has used spire in Coriolanus: “&lblank; to the spire and top of praises vouch'd.” So, “the cap of all the fools alive” is the top of them all, because cap was the uppermost part of a man's dress.” See All's Well that ends Well. Tollet. Ben Jonson, in Love's Triumph through Calipolis, a Masque, says: “To you that are by excellence a queen, “The top of beauty, &c.” Again, in the Mirror of Knighthood, Part I. ch. xiv: “&lblank; in the top and pitch of all beauty, so that theyr matches are not to bee had.” Steevens.

Note return to page 790 4Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.] Quillet is the peculiar word applied to law-chicane. I imagine the original to be this. In the French pleadings, every several allegation in the plaintiff's charge, and every distinct plea in the defendant's answer, began with the words qu'il est;—from whence was formed the word quillet, to signify a false charge or an evasive answer. Warburton.

Note return to page 791 5&lblank; affection's men at arms:] A man at arms, is a soldier armed at all points both offensively and defensively. It is no more than, Ye soldiers of affection. Johnson.

Note return to page 792 6From women's eyes &c.] This and the two following lines are omitted, I suppose, by mere oversight in Dr. Warburton's edition. Johnson.

Note return to page 793 6The nimble spirits in the arteries;] In the old system of physic they gave the same office to the arteries as is now given to the nerves; as appears from the name which is derived from &grasa;&gre;&grr;&gra; &grt;&grh;&grr;&gre;&gric;&grn;. Warburton.

Note return to page 794 7Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?] i. e. a lady's eyes give a fuller notion of beauty than any authour. Johnson.

Note return to page 795 8In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers &lblank;] Alluding to the discoveries in modern astronomy, at that time greatly improving, in which the ladies' eyes are compared, as usual, to stars. He calls them numbers, alluding to the Pythagorean principles of astronomy, which were founded on the laws of harmony. The Oxford editor, who was at a loss for the conceit, changes numbers to notions, and so loses both the sense and the gallantry of the allusion. He has better luck in the following line, and has rightly changed beauty's to beauteous. Warburton. Numbers are, in this passage, nothing more than poetical measures. Could you, says Biron, by solitary contemplation, have attained such poetical fire, such spritely numbers, as have been prompted by the eyes of beauty? The astronomer, by looking too much aloft, falls into a ditch. Johnson.

Note return to page 796 9&lblank; the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:] i. e. a lover in pursuit of his mistress has his sense of hearing quicker than a thief (who suspects every sound he hears) in pursuit of his prey. But Mr. Theobald says, there is no contrast between a lover and a thief: and therefore alters it to thrift, between which and love, he says, there is a remarkable antithesis. What he means by contrast and antithesis, I confess, I don't understand. But 'tis no matter: the common reading is sense; and that is better than either one or the other. Warburton. “The suspicious head of theft is the head suspicious of theft.” “He watches like one that fears robbing,” says Speed, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona. This transposition of the adjective is sometimes met with. Grimme tells us, in Damon and Pythias: “A heavy pouch with golde makes a light hart.” Farmer.

Note return to page 797 1For valour, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?] The poet is here observing how all the senses are refined by love. But what has the poor sense of smelling done, not to keep its place among its brethren? Then Hercules's valour was not in climbing the trees, but in attacking the dragon gardant. I rather think, that for valour we should read savour, and the poet meant, that Hercules was allured by the odour and fragrancy of the golden apples. Theobald.

Note return to page 798 2As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair:] This expression, like that other in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, of— Orpheus' harp was strung with poets' sinews, is extremely beautiful, and highly figurative. Apollo, as the sun, is represented with golden hair; so that a lute strung with his hair, means no more than strung with gilded wire. Warburton. &lblank; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute strung with his hair. The author of the Revisal supposes this expression to be allegorical, p. 138. “Apollo's lute strung with sunbeams, which in poetry are called hair.” But what idea is conveyed by Apollo's lute strung with sunbeams? Undoubtedly the words are to be taken in their literal sense: and, in the stile of Italian imagery, the thought is highly elegant. The very same sort of conception occurs in Lilly's Mydas, a play which most probably preceded Shakespeare's. Act IV. sc. i. Pan tells Apollo: “Had thy lute been of lawrell, and the strings of Daphne's haire, thy tunes might have been compared to my notes, &c.” Warburton. The same thought occurs in How to chuse a Good Wife from a Bad, 1608: “Hath he not torn those gold wires from thy head, “Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp, “And kept them to play music to the gods.” Lylly's Midas, quoted by Mr. Warton, was published in 1592. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0257

Note return to page 799 3And when love speaks the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.] This nonsense we should read and point thus: And when love speaks the voice of all the gods, Mark, heaven drowsy with the harmony. i. e. in the voice of love alone is included the voice of all the gods. Alluding to that ancient theogony, that Love was the parent and support of all the gods. Hence, as Suidas tells us, Palæphatus wrote a poem called, &GRAsa;&grf;&grr;&gro;&grd;&gri;&grt;&grh;&grst; &grk;&gra;&grig; &GREsa;&grr;&grw;&grt;&gro;&grst; &grf;&grw;&grn;&grhg; &grk;&gra;&grig; &grl;&groa;&grg;&gro;&grst;&grcolon; The voice and speech of Venus and Love, which appears to have been a kind of cosmogony, the harmony of which is so great, that it calms and allays all kinds of disorders: alluding again to the antient use of music, which was to compose monarchs, when, by reason of the cares of empire, they used to pass whole nights in restless inquietude. Warburton. The ancient reading is, Make heaven &lblank; Johnson. I cannot find any reason for this emendation, nor do I believe the poet to have been at all acquainted with that ancient theogony mentioned by the critic. The former reading, with the slight addition of a single letter, was, perhaps, the true one. When love speaks, (says Biron) the assembled gods reduce the element of the sky to a calm, by their harmonious applauses of this favoured orator. Mr. Collins observes, that the meaning of the passage may be this.—That the voice of all the gods united, could inspire only drowsiness, when compared with the chearful effects of the voice of Love. That sense is sufficiently congruous to the rest of the speech; and much the same thought occurs in The Shepherd Arsileus' Reply to Syrenus' Song, by Bar. Yong; published in England's Helicon, 1614: “Unless mild Love possess your amorous breasts, “If you sing not of him, your songs do weary.” Dr. Warburton has raised the idea of his author, by imputing to him a knowledge, of which, I believe, he was not possessed; but should either of these explanations prove the true one, I shall offer no apology for having made him stoop from the critic's elevation. I would, however, read, Makes heaven drowsy with its harmony. Though the words mark! and behold! are alike used to bespeak or summon attention, yet the former of them appears so harsh in Dr. Warburton's emendation, that I read the line several times over before I perceived its meaning. To speak the voice of the gods appears to me as defective in the same way. Dr. Warburton, in a note on All's Well that ends Well, observes, that to speak a sound is a barbarism. To speak a voice is, I think, no less reprehensible. Steevens. Few passages have been more canvassed than this. I believe, it wants no alteration of the words, but only of the pointing: And when love speaks (the voice of all) the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Love, I apprehend, is called the voice of all, as gold, in Timon, is said to speak with every tongue; and the gods (being drowsy themselves with the harmony) are supposed to make heaven drowsy. If one could possibly suspect Shakespeare of having read Pindar, one should say, that the idea of music making the hearers drowsy, was borrowed from the first Pythian. Tyrwhitt. Perhaps here is an accidental transposition. We may read, as, I think, some one has proposed before: “The voice makes all the gods “Of heaven drowsy with the harmony.” Farmer. That harmony had the power to make the hearers drowsy, the present commentator might infer from the effect it usually produces on himself. In Cinthia's Revenge, 1613, however, is an instance which should weigh more with the reader: “Howl forth some ditty that vast hell may ring “With charms all-potent, earth asleep to bring.” Again, in the Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; music call, and strike more dead “Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.” Steevens. The voice may signify the assenting voice; as in Hamlet: “Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.” By harmony I presume the poet means unison. Musgrave.

Note return to page 800 4From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:] In this speech I suspect a more than common instance of the inaccuracy of the first publishers: From women's eyes this doctrine I derive, and several other lines, are as unnecessarily repeated. Dr. Warburton was aware of this, and omitted two verses, which Dr. Johnson has since inserted. Perhaps the players printed from piece-meal parts, or retained what the author had rejected, as well as what had undergone his revisal. It is here given according to the regulation of the old copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 801 5&lblank; a word, that loves all men;] We should read: &lblank; a word all women love. The following line: Or for men's sake (the author of these women;) which refers to this reading, puts it out of all question. Warburton. Perhaps we might read thus, transposing the lines: Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men; For women's sake, by whom we men are men; Or for men's sake, the authors of these women. The antithesis of a word that all men love, and a word which loves all men, though in itself worth little, has much of the spirit of this play. Johnson. There will be no difficulty, if we correct it to “men's sakes, the authors of these words.” Farmer. I think no alteration should be admitted in these four lines, that destroys the artificial structure of them, in which, as has been observed by the author of the Revisal, the word which terminates every line, is prefixed to the word sake in that immediately following. Tollet.

Note return to page 802 6&lblank; sown cockle reap'd no corn;] This proverbial expression intimates, that beginning with perjury, they can expect to reap nothing but falshood. The following lines lead us to this sense. Warburton.

Note return to page 803 7If so, our copper buys no better treasure.] Here Mr. Theobald ends the third act. Johnson.

Note return to page 804 8Satis quod sufficit.] i. e. Enough's as good as a feast. Steevens.

Note return to page 805 9Your reasons at dinner have been, &c.] I know not well what degree of respect Shakespeare intends to obtain for this vicar, but he has here put into his mouth a finished representation of colloquial excellence. It is very difficult to add any thing to this character of the schoolmaster's table-talk, and perhaps all the precepts of Castiglione will scarcely be found to comprehend a rule for conversation so justly delineated, so widely dilated, and so nicely limited. It may be proper just to note, that reason here, and in many other places, signifies discourse; and that audacious is used in a good sense for spirited, animated confident. Opinion is the same with obstinacy or opiniatreté. Johnson. So, again, in this play: “Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.” Steevens.

Note return to page 806 1without affection,] i. e. without affectation. So, in Hamlet: &lblank; “No matter that might indite the author of affection.” So, in Twelfth Night, Malvolio is call'd “an affection'd ass.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 2&lblank; his tongue filed,] Chaucer, Skelton, and Spencer, are frequent in their use of this phrase. Ben Jonson has it likewise. Steevens.

Note return to page 808 3He is too piqued,] To have the beard piqued or shorn so as to end in a point, was, in our authour's time, a mark of a traveller affecting foreign fashions: so says the Bastard in K. John: “&lblank; I catechise “My piqued man of countries.” Johnson. See a note on King John, act I. and another on King Lear, where the reader will find the epithet piqued differently interpreted. Piqued may allude to the length of the shoes then worn. Bulwer, in his Artificial Changeling says:—“We weare our forked shoes almost as long again as our feete, not a little to the hindrance of the action of the foote, and not only so, but they prove an impediment to reverentiall devotions, for our bootes and shooes are so long snouted, that we can hardly kneele in God's house.” Steevens. I believe picked (for so it should be written) signifies nicely drest in general, without reference to any particular fashion of dress. It is a metaphor taken from birds, who dress themselves by picking out or pruning, their broken or superfluous feathers. So Chaucer uses the word, in his description of Damian dressing himself, Cant. Tales, ver. 9885: “He kembeth him, he proineth him and piketh.” And Shakespeare, in this very play, uses the corresponding word pruning for dressing, act IV. sc. iii: “&lblank; or spend a minute's time “In pruning me &lblank;” The substantive pickedness is used by B. Jonson for nicety in dress. Discoveries, vol. vii. p. 116: “&lblank; too much pickedness is not manly.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 809 4&lblank; point-devise &lblank;] A French expression for the utmost, or finical exactness. So, in Twelfth Night, Malvolio says: “I will be point-device, the very man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 810 5This is abhominable, &c.] He has here well imitated the language of the most redoubtable pedants of that time. On such sort of occasions, Joseph Scaliger used to break out, “Abominor, execror. Asinitas mera est, impietas, &c.” and calls his adversary, “Lutum stercore maceratum, dæmoniacum recrimentum inscitiæ, sterquilinium, stercus diaboli, scarabæum, larvam, pecus postremum bestiarum, infame propudium, &grk;&graa;&grq;&gra;&grr;&grm;&gra;.” Warburton. Shakespeare knew nothing of this language; and the resemblance which Dr. Warburton finds, if it deserves that title, is quite accidental. It is far more probable, that he means to ridicule the foppish manner of speaking, and affected pronunciation, introduced at court by Lilly and his imitators. &lblank; abhominable,] So the word is constantly spelt in the old moralities and other antiquated books: “And then I will bryng in “Abhominable lyving.” Lusty Juventus, 1561. Steevens.

Note return to page 811 6it insinuateth me of insanie;] In former editions, it insinuateth me of infamy: Ne intelligis, domine? to make frantick, lunatick? Nath. Laus Deo, bene intelligo. Hol. Bome, boon for boon Prescian; a little scratch, 'twill serve. This play is certainly none of the best in itself, but the editors have been so very happy in making it worse by their indolence, that they have left me Augeas's stable to cleanse: and a man had need to have the strength of a Hercules to heave out all their rubbish. But to business: Why should infamy be explained by making frantick, lunatick? It is plain and obvious that the poet intended the pedant should coin an uncouth affected word here, insanie, from insania of the Latins. Then, what a piece of unintelligible jargon have these learned criticks given us for Latin? I think, I may venture to affirm, I have restored the passage to its true purity. Nath. Laus Deo, bone, intelligo. The curate, addressing with complaisance his brother pedant, says, bone, to him, as we frequently in Terence find bone vir; but the pedant, thinking he had mistaken the adverb, thus descants on it. Bone?—bone for bene. Priscian a little scratched: 'twill serve. Alluding to the common phrase, Diminuis Prisciani caput, applied to such as speak false Latin. Theobald. It insinuateth me of infamy. There is no need to make the pedant worse than Shakespeare made him; who, without doubt, wrote insanity. Warburton. There seems yet something wanting to the integrity of this passage, which Mr. Theobald has in the most corrupt and difficult places very happily restored. For ne intelligis domine? to make frantick, lunatick, I read (nonne intelligis, domine?) to be mad, frantick, lunatick. Johnson. Insanie appears to have been a word anciently used. In a book entitled, The Fall and evil Successe of Rebellion from Time to Time, &c. written in old English verse by Wilfride Holme, imprinted at London by Henry Bynneman; without date, (though, from the concluding stanza, it appears to have been produced in the 8th year of the reign of Henry VIII.) I find the word used:   “In the days of sixth Henry, Jack Cade made a brag, “With a multitude of people; but in the consequence,   “After a little insanie, they fled tag and rag, “For Alexander Iden he did his diligence.” Steevens. I should rather read, “it insinuateth men of insanie.” Farmer.

Note return to page 812 8&lblank; the alms-basket of words!] i. e. the refuse of words. The refuse meat of great families was formerly sent to the prisons. So, in the Inner Temple Masque, 1619, by J. Middleton [Subnote: for, J. Middleton, read, T. Middleton.] : “his perpetual lodging in the King's Bench, and his ordinary out of the basket.” Again, in If this be not a good Play the Devil is in It, 1612: “He must feed on beggary's basket.” Steevens.

Note return to page 813 9Honorificabilitudinitatibus:] This word, whencesoever it comes, is often mentioned as the longest word known. Johnson. It occurs likewise in Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 1604: “His discourse is like the long word honorificabilitudinitatibus; a great deal of sound and no sense.” I meet with it likewise in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599. Steevens.

Note return to page 814 1&lblank; a flap-dragon.] A flap-dragon is a small inflammable substance, which topers swallow in a glass of wine. See a note on K. Henry IV. part II. act II. sc. ult. Steevens.

Note return to page 815 2Moth. The third of the five vowels, &c.] In former editions: The last of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I; Hol. I will repeat them, a, e, I &lblank; Moth. The sheep:—the other two concludes it out. Is not the last and the fifth the same vowel? Though my correction restores but a poor conundrum, yet if it restores the poet's meaning, it is the duty of an editor to trace him in his lowest conceits. By O, U, Moth would mean—Oh, you—i. e. You are the sheep still, either way; no matter which of us repeats them. Theobald.

Note return to page 816 3&lblank; a quick venew of wit:] A venew is the technical term for a bout at the fencing-school. So, in the Four Prentices of London, 1632: “&lblank; in the fencing-school “To play a venew.” Steevens.

Note return to page 817 4I will whip about your infamy unum cita;] Here again all the editions give us jargon instead of Latin. But Moth would certainly mean, circum circa: i. e. about and about: though it may be designed he should mistake the terms. Theobald.

Note return to page 818 5&lblank; the charge-house] I suppose, is the free-school. Steevens.

Note return to page 819 6dally with my excrement,] The authour has before called the beard valour's excrement in the Merchant of Venice. Johnson.

Note return to page 820 7if this fadge not,] i. e. suit not. Several instances of the use of this word are given in Twelfth Night. Steevens.

Note return to page 821 8Via!] An Italian exclamation, signifying, Courage! come on! Steevens.

Note return to page 822 9&lblank; to make his god-head wax;] To wax anciently signified to grow. It is yet said of the moon, that she waxes and wanes. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song I. “I view those wanton brooks that waxing still do wane.” Again, in Lylly's Love's Metamorphoses, 1601: “Men's follies will ever wax, and then what reason can make them wise?” Again, in the Polyolbion, Song V. “The stem shall strongly wax, as still the trunk doth wither.” Steevens.

Note return to page 823 1taking it in snuff;] Snuff is here used equivocally for anger, and the snuff of a candle. See more instances of this conceit in K. Henry IV. Part I. act I. sc. iii. Steevens.

Note return to page 824 2&lblank; for past care is still past cure.] The transposition which I have made in the two words, care and cure, is by the direction of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Theobald.

Note return to page 825 3'Ware pencils! &lblank;] The former editions read: Were pencils &lblank; Sir T. Hanmer here rightly restored: ‘Ware pencils &lblank; Rosaline, a black beauty, reproaches the fair Katharine for painting. Johnson. The folio reads: Ware pensals &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 826 4&lblank; so full of O's.] i. e. pimples. Shakespeare talks of “&lblank; fiery O's and eyes of light,” in another play. Steevens.

Note return to page 827 5Pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.] In former copies this line is given to the Princess; but as she has behaved with great decency all along, there is no reason why she should start all at once into this coarse dialect. Rosaline and Katharine are rallying one another without reserve; and to Katharine this first line certainly belonged, and therefore I have ventured once more to put her in possession of it. Theobald. “Pox of that jest!” Mr. Theobald is scandalized at this language from a princess. But there needs no alarm—the small pox only is alluded to; with which, it seems, Katharine was pitted; or, as it is quaintly expressed, “her face was full of O's.” Davison has a canzonet on his lady's sicknesse of the poxe: and Dr. Donne writes to his sister: “at my return from Kent, I found Pegge had the poxe—I humbly thank God, it hath not much disfigured her.” Farmer.

Note return to page 828 6&lblank; in by the week!] This I suppose to be an expression taken from hiring servants or artificers; meaning, I wish I was as sure of his service for any time limited, as if I had hired him. The expression was a common one. So, in Vittoria Corombona, 1612: “What, are you in by the week? So; I will try now whether thy wit be close prisoner.” Again, in the Wit of a Woman, 1604: “Since I am in by the week, let me look to the year.” Steevens.

Note return to page 829 7So portent-like, &c.] In former copies: So pertaunt-like, would I o'er-sway his state, That he should be my fool, and I his fate. In old farces, to shew the inevitable approaches of death and destiny, the Fool of the farce is made to employ all his stratagems to avoid Death or Fate; which very stratagems, as they are ordered, bring the Fool, at every turn, into the very jaws of Fate. To this Shakespeare alludes again in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; merely thou art Death's Fool; “For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, “And yet run'st towards him still &lblank;” It is plain from all this, that the nonsense of pertaunt-like, should be read, portent-like, i. e. I would be his fate or destiny, and, like a portent, hang over, and influence his fortunes. For portents were not only thought to forebode, but to influence. So the Latins called a person destined to bring mischief, fatale portentum. Warburton. Mr. Theobald reads: So pedant-like &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 830 8None are so, &c.] These are observations worthy of a man who has surveyed human nature with the closest attention. Johnson.

Note return to page 831 9Saint Dennis, to saint Cupid!—The princess of France invokes, with too much levity, the patron of her country, to oppose his power to that of Cupid. Johnson.

Note return to page 832 1&lblank; spleen ridiculous &lblank;] is, a ridiculous fit. Johnson.

Note return to page 833 2Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.] The settling commerce in Russia was, at that time, a matter that much ingrossed the concern and conversation of the publick. There had been several embassies employed thither on that occasion; and several tracts of the manners and state of that nation written: so that a mask of Muscovites was as good an entertainment to the audience of that time, as a coronation has been since. Warburton.

Note return to page 834 3Beauties, no richer than rich taffata.] i. e. the taffata masks they wore to conceal themselves. All the editors concur to give this line to Biron; but, surely, very absurdly: for he's one of the zealous admirers, and hardly would make such an inference. Boyet is sneering at the parade of their address, is in the secret of the ladies' stratagem, and makes himself sport at the absurdity of their proem, in complimenting their beauty, when they were mask'd. It therefore comes from him with the utmost propriety. Theobald.

Note return to page 835 4Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, &lblank;] When queen Elizabeth asked an ambassador how he liked her ladies, It is hard, said he, to judge of stars in the presence of the sun. Johnson.

Note return to page 836 5Since you can cog, &lblank;] To cog, signifies to falsify the dice, and to falsify a narrative, or to lye. Johnson.

Note return to page 837 6Well-liking wits] Well-liking is the same as embonpoint. So, in Job ch. xxxix. v. 4. “&lblank; Their young ones are in good-liking.” Steevens.

Note return to page 838 7&lblank; better wits have worn plain statute-caps.] This line is not universally understood, because every reader does not know that a statute cap is part of the academical habit. Lady Rosaline declares that her expectation was disappointed by these courtly students, and that better wits might be found in the common places of education. Johnson. Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.] Woollen caps were enjoined by act of parliament, in the year 1571, the 13th of queen Elizabeth. “Besides the bills passed into acts this parliament, there was one which I judge not amiss to be taken notice of—it concerned the queen's care for employment for her poor sort of subjects. It was for continuance of making and wearing woollen caps, in behalf of the trade of cappers; providing, that all above the age of six years. (except the nobility and some others) should on sabbath days and holy days, wear caps of wool, knit, thicked, and drest in England, upon penalty of ten groats.” Gray. This act may account for the distinguishing mark of Mother Red-cap. I have observed that mention is made of this sign by some of our ancient pamphleteers and playwriters, as far back as the date of the act referred to by Dr. Gray. If that your cap be wool—became a proverbial saying. So, in Hans Beerpot, a comedy, 1618: “You shall not flinch; if that your cap be wool, “You shall along.” Steevens. I think my own interpretation of this passage is right. Johnson. Probably the meaning is—better wits may be found among the citizens, who are not in general remarkable for sallies of imagination. In Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 1605, Mrs. Mulligrub says,—“though my husband be a citizen, and his cap's made of wool, yet I have wit.” Again, in the Family of Love, 1608: “'Tis a law enacted by the common-council of statute-caps.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0260

Note return to page 839 8Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud; Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shewn, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.] This strange nonsense, made worse by the jumbling together and transposing the lines, I directed Mr. Theobald to read thus: Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud: Or angels veil'd in clouds: are roses blown, Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shewn. But he, willing to shew how well he could improve a thought, would print it: Or angel-veiling clouds &lblank; i. e. clouds which veil angels: and by this means gave us, as the old proverb says, a cloud for a Juno. It was Shakespeare's purpose to compare a fine lady to an angel; it was Mr. Theobald's chance to compare her to a cloud: and perhaps the ill-bred reader will say a lucky one. However, I supposed the poet could never be so nonsensical as to compare a masked lady to a cloud, though he might compare her mask to one. The Oxford editor, who had the advantage both of this emendation and criticism, is a great deal more subtile and refined, and says it should not be &lblank; angels veil'd in clouds, but &lblank; angels vailing clouds, i. e. capping the sun as they go by him, just as a man vails his bonnet. Warburton. I know not why sir T. Hanmer's explanation should be treated with so much contempt, or why vailing clouds should be capping the sun. Ladies unmask'd, says Boyet, are like angels vailing clouds, or letting those clouds which obscured their brightness, sink from before them. What is there in this absurd or contemptible? Johnson. Holinshed's History of Scotland, p. 91. says: “The Britains began to avale! the hills where they had lodged.” i. e. they began to descend the hills, or come down from them to meet their enemies. If Shakespeare uses the word vailing in this sense, the meaning is—Angels descending from clouds which concealed their beauties; but Dr. Johnson's exposition may be better. Tollet. To avale comes from the Fr. aval [Terme de batelier] Down, downward, down the stream. So, in the French Romant de la Rose, 1415: “Leaue aloit aval enfaisant “Son melodieux et plaisant.” Again, in Laneham's Narrative of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kenelworth-Castle, 1575: “&lblank; as on a sea-shore when the water is avail'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 840 9&lblank; shapeless gear;] Shapeless, for uncouth, or what Shakespeare elsewhere calls diffused. Warburton.

Note return to page 841 1Exeunt Ladies.] Mr. Theobald ends the fourth act here. Johnson.

Note return to page 842 2&lblank; as pigeons peas;] This expression is proverbial: “Children pick up words as pigeons peas, “And utter them again as God shall please.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 843 3&lblank; wassels,] Wassels were meetings of rustic mirth and intemperance. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Antony, “Leave thy lascivious wassels” &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 844 4A mean most meanly; &c.] The mean, in music, is the tenor. So, Bacon: “The treble cutteth the air so sharp, as it returneth too swift to make the sound equal; and therefore a mean or tenor is the sweetest.” Again, in Herod and Antipater, 1622: “Thus sing we descant on one plain-song, kill; “Four parts in one, the mean excluded quite.” Again, in Drayton's Barons' Wars. Cant. iii. “The base and treble married to the mean.” Steevens.

Note return to page 845 5This is the flower, that smiles on every one,] The broken disjointed metaphor is a fault in writing. But in order to pass a true judgment on this fault, it is still to be observed, that when a metaphor is grown so common as to desert, as it were, the figurative, and to be received into the common style, then, what may be affirmed of the thing represented, or the substance, may be affirmed of the thing representing, or the image. To illustrate this by the instance before us, a very complaisant, finical, over-gracious person, was so commonly called the flower, or, as he elsewhere expresses it, the pink of courtesy, that in common talk, or in the lowest style, this metaphor might be used without keeping up the image, but any thing affirmed of it as an agnomen: hence it might be said, without offence, to smile, to flatter, &c. And the reason is this; in the more solemn, less-used metaphors, our mind is so turned upon the image which the metaphor conveys, that it expects this image should be, for some little time, continued by terms proper to keep it in view. And if, for want of these terms, the image be no sooner presented than dismissed, the mind suffers a kind of violence by being drawn off abruptly and unexpectedly from its contemplation. Hence it is, that the broken, disjointed, and mixed metaphor so much shocks us. But when it is once become worn and hacknied by common use, then even the very first mention of it is not apt to excite in us the representative image; but brings immediately before us the idea of the thing represented. And then to endeavour to keep up and continue the borrowed ideas, by right adapted terms, would have as ill an effect on the other hand: because the mind is already gone off from the image to the substance. Grammarians would do well to consider what has been here said, when they set upon amending Greek and Roman writings. For the much-used hacknied metaphors being now very imperfectly known, great care is required not to act in this case temerariously. Warburton. This is the flower that smiles on every one, To shew his teeth as white as whale his bone.] As white as whale's bone is a proverbial comparison in the old poets. In the Faery Queen, b. iii. c. i. st. 15: “Whose face did seem as clear as crystal stone, “And eke, through feare, as white as whales bone.” And in Turberville's Poems, printed in the year 1570, is an ode intitled, “In Praise of Lady P.” “Her mouth so small, her teeth so white,   As any whale his bone; “Her lips without so lively red,   “That passe the corall stone.” And in L. Surrey, fol. 14. edit. 1567: “I might perceive a wolf, as white as whales bone, “A fairer beast of fresher hue, beheld I never none.” Again, in the old romance of Syr Degore: “The kyng had no chyldren but one, “A daughter, as white as whales bone.” Skelton joins the whales bone with the brightest precious stones, in describing the position of Pallas: “A hundred steppes mounting to the halle,   “One of jasper, another of whales bone; “Of diamantes, pointed by the rokky walle.” Crowne of Lawrell, p. 24. edit. 1736. Warton. It should be remember'd that some of our ancient writers supposed ivory to be part of the bones of a whale. The same simile occurs in the old black letter romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “The erle had no chylde but one, “A mayden as white as whales bone.” Again, “That a fayre sonne had Chrystabell, “As whyte as whales bone.” Again, in the ancient metrical romance of Syr Isenbras, bl. l. no date: “His wyfe as white as whales bone.” Again, in the Squhr of Low Degree, bl. l. no date: “Lady as white as whales bone.” Again, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; his herrings which were as white as whales bone, &c.” We should, however, read whales bone, the Saxon genitive case, and not whale his bone as it is here printed. So, in the Midsummer Night's Dream: “Swifter than the moones sphere.” Steevens.

Note return to page 846 6&lblank; Behaviour, what wert thou, 'Till this man shew'd thee? and what art thou now? These are two wonderfully fine lines, intimating that what courts call manners, and value themselves so much upon teaching, as a thing no where else to be learnt, is a modest silent accomplishment under the direction of nature and common sense, which does its office in promoting social life without being taken notice of. But that when it degenerates into shew and parade, it becomes an unmanly contemptible quality. Warburton. What is told in this note is undoubtedly true, but is not comprised in the quotation. Johnson.

Note return to page 847 7The virtue of your eye must break my oath.] Common sense requires us to read: &lblank; made break my oath. i. e. made me. And then the reply is pertinent.—It was the force of your beauty that made me break my oath, therefore you ought not to upbraid me with a crime which you yourself was the cause of. Warburton. I believe the author means that the virtue, in which word goodness and power are both comprised, must dissolve the obligation of the oath. The princess, in her answer, takes the most invidious part of the ambiguity. Johnson.

Note return to page 848 8&lblank; when we greet &c.] This is a very lofty and elegant compliment. Johnson.

Note return to page 849 9Three-pil'd hyperboles,] A metaphor from the pile of velvet. So, in the Winter's Tale, Autolycus says: “I have worn three-pile.” Steevens.

Note return to page 850 1Sans, sans, I pray you.] It is scarce worth remarking, that the conceit here is obscured by the punctuation. It should be written Sans sans, i. e. without sans; without French words: an affectation of which Biron had been guilty in the last line of his speech, though just before he had forsworn all affectation in phrases, terms, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 851 2Write, &c.] This was the inscription put upon the door of the houses infected with the plague, to which Biron compares the love of himself and his companions; and pursuing the metaphor finds the tokens likewise on the ladies. The tokens of the plague are the first spots or discolorations, by which the infection is known to be received. Johnson. So, in Histriomastix, 1610: “It is as dangerous to read his name on a play-door, as a printed bill on a plague door.” Again, in the Whore of Babylon, 1607: “Have tokens stamp'd on them to make them known, “More dreadful than the bills that preach the plague.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “On our side, like the token'd pestilence.” Again, in Two wise Men and all the rest Fools, 1619: “A will and a tolling bell are as present death as God's tokens.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0261 So, in Sir Tho. Overbury's Characters, 1632: “Lord have mercy on us may well stand over their doors, for debt is a most dangerous city pestilence.” Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0262

Note return to page 852 3&lblank; how can this be true, That you should forfeit, being those that sue?] That is, how can those be liable to forfeiture that begin the process. The jest lies in the ambiguity of sue, which signifies to prosecute by law, or to offer a petition. Johnson.

Note return to page 853 4&lblank; you force not to forswear.] You force not is the same with you make no difficulty. This is a very just observation. The crime which has been once committed, is committed again with less reluctance. Johnson. So, in Warner's Albion's England, b. x. ch. 59: “&lblank; he forced not to hide how he did err.” Steevens.

Note return to page 854 5&lblank; a consent,] i. e. a conspiracy. So, in K. Henry VI. Part I: “&lblank; the stars “That have consented to king Henry's death.” Steevens.

Note return to page 855 6&lblank; zany,] A zany is a buffoon, a merry Andrew, a gross mimic. So, in Antonio's Revenge, 1602: “Laughs them to scorn, as man doth busy apes, “When they will zany men.” Steevens.

Note return to page 856 7&lblank; smiles his cheek in years;—Mr. Theobald says, he cannot for his heart, comprehend the sense of this phrase. It was not his heart but his head that stood in his way. In years, signifies, into wrinkles. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come.” See the note on that line.—But the Oxford editor was in the same case, and so alters it to fleers. Warburton. Webster, in his Dutchesse of Malfy, makes Castruchio declare of his lady: “She cannot endure merry company, for she says much laughing fills her too full of the wrinckle.” Farmer. Again, in Lingua, or the Combat of the Tongue, &c. 1607: “That light and quick, with wrinkled laughter painted.” Again, in Twelfth Night: “&lblank; he doth smile his cheek into more lines than is in the new map, &c.” [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 857 add, Steevens.

Note return to page 858 8&lblank; in will, and error. Much upon this it is:—And might not you] I believe this passage should be read thus: &lblank; in will and error. Boyet. Much upon this it is. Biron. And might not you, &c. Johnson. In will and error. i. e. first in will, and afterwards in error. Musgrave.

Note return to page 859 9&lblank; by the squier,] Esquierre, French, a rule, or square. The sense is nearly the same as that of the proverbial expression in our own language, he hath got the length of her foot; i. e. he hath humoured her so long that he can persuade her to what he pleases. Revisal.

Note return to page 860 1&lblank; Go, you are allow'd;] i.e. you may say what you will; you are a licensed fool, a common jester. So, in Twelfth Night: “There is no stander in an allow'd fool.” Warburton.

Note return to page 861 2You cannot beg us, &lblank;] That is, we are not fools; our next relations cannot beg the wardship of our persons and fortunes. One of the legal tests of a natural is to try whether he can number. Johnson.

Note return to page 862 3I know not the degree of the worthy, &c.] This is a stroke of satire which, to this hour, has lost nothing of its force. Few performers are solicitous about the history of the character they are to represent. Steevens.

Note return to page 863 4That sport best pleases, which doth least know how: Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it presents, There form, &c. The third line may be read better thus: &lblank; the contents Die in the zeal of him which them presents. This sentiment of the Princess is very natural, but less generous than that of the Amazonian Queen, who says, on a like occasion, in the Midsummer-Night's Dream: “I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, “Nor duty in his service perishing.” Johnson.

Note return to page 864 5Enter Armado.] The old copies read—Enter Braggart. Steevens.

Note return to page 865 6And if these four worthies &c.] These two lines might have been designed as a ridicule on the conclusion of Selimus, a tragedy, 1594: “If this first part, gentles, do like you well, “The second part shall greater murders tell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 866 7A bare throw at novum, &lblank;] This passage I do not understand. I fancy that novum should be novem, and that some allusion is intended between the play of nine-pins and the play of the nine worthies, but it lies too deep for my investigation. Johnson. Novum (or novem) appears from the following passage in Green's Art of Legerdemain, 1612, to have been some game at dice: “The principal use of them (the dice) is at novum, &c.” Again, in The Bell-man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640: “The principal use of langrets is at novum; for so long as a payre of bard cater treas be walking, so long can you cast neither 5 nor 9— for without cater treay, 5 or 9, you can never come.” Again, in A Woman never Vex'd:—“What ware deal you in? cards, dice, bowls, or pigeon-holes; sort them yourselves, either passage, novum, or mum-chance.” Steevens. Novem—“a bare throw at novem.” The former editions read novum. Dr. Johnson retains the old reading, but with great ingenuity conjectures, “novum should be novem, and the same allusion is intended between the play of nine-pins and the play of the nine worthies.” There is no necessity for this emendation; novum was an old game at dice, as appears from a passage in Green's Tu quoque: “Scat.. &lblank; By the hilts of my sword, I have lost forty crowns, in as small time almost as a man might tell it. “Spend. Change your game for dice, we are a full number for novum.” See Dods. Old Plays, vol. iii. p. 31. Hawkins.

Note return to page 867 8Cannot prick out, &c.] Dr. Gray proposes to read, pick out. So, in K. Hen. IV. Part I: “Could the world pick thee out three such enemies again?” The old reading, however, may be right. To prick out, is a phrase still in use among gardeners. To prick may likewise have reference to vein. Steevens.

Note return to page 868 9Pageant of the Nine Worthies.] In M S. Harl. 2057, p. 31. is “The order of a showe intended to be made Aug. 1. 1621.” “First, 2 woodmen &c. “St. George fighting with the dragon. “The 9 worthies in compleat armor with crownes of gould on their heads, every one having his esquires to beare before him his shield and penon of armes, dressed according as these lords were accustomed to be: 3 Assaralits, 3 Infidels, 3 Christians. “After them, a Fame, to declare the rare virtues and noble deedes of the 9 worthye women.” Such a pageant as this, we may suppose it was the design of Shakespeare to ridicule. Steevens.

Note return to page 869 1With libbard's head on knee.] This alludes to the old heroic habits, which on the knees and shoulders had usually, by way of ornament, the resemblance of a leopard's or lion's head. Warburton. The libbard, as some of the old English glossaries inform us, is the male of the panther. This ornament is mentioned in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “&lblank; posset cuppes carv'd with libbard's faces, and lyon's heads with spouts in their mouths, to let out the posset-ale most artificially.” Again, in the metrical chronicle of Robert de Brunne: “Upon his shoulders a shelde of stele, “With the 4 libbardes painted wele.” Steevens. See Masquine in Cotgrave's Dictionary: “The representation of a lyon's head, &c. upon the elbow, or knee of some old fashioned garments.” Tollet.

Note return to page 870 *&lblank; it stands too right.] It should be remembered, to relish this joke, that the head of Alexander was obliquely placed on his shoulders. Steevens.

Note return to page 871 2&lblank; lion, that holds his poll-ax, sitting on a close-stool,] Alluding to the arms given to the nine worthies in the old history. Hanmer. This alludes to the arms given in the old history of the Nine Worthies, to “Alexander, the which did beare geules, a lion or, seiante in a chayer, holding a battell-ax argent.” Leigh's Accidence of Armory, 1597. p. 23. Tollet.

Note return to page 872 3A-jax;] There is a conceit of Ajax and a jakes. Johnson. This conceit, paltry as it is, was used by Ben Jonson, and Camden the antiquary. Ben, among his Epigrams, has these two lines: “And I could wish, for their eternis'd sakes, “My muse had plough'd with his that sung A-jax.” So, Camden, in his Remains, having mentioned the French word pet, says, ‘Enquire, if you understand it not, of Cloacina's chaplains, or such as are well read in A-jax.” Again, in The Mastive, &c. a collection of epigrams and satires: no date: “To thee, brave John, my book I dedicate, “That wilt, from A-jax with thy force defend it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 873 4A cittern head.] So, in The Fancies, 1638: “&lblank; a cittern-headed gew-gaw.” Again, in Decker's Match me in London, 1631: “Fiddling on a cittern with a man's broken head at it.” Again, in Ford's Lover's Melancholy, 1629: “I hope the chronicles will rear me one day for a head-piece—” “Of woodcock without brains in it; barbers shall wear thee on their citterns, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 874 5&lblank; on a flask.] i. e. a soldier's powder-horn. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, “Is set on fire.” Again, in the Devil's Charter, 1607: “Keep a light match in cock; wear flask and touch-box.” Steevens.

Note return to page 875 6Hector was but a Trojan &lblank;] A Trojan, I believe, was in the time of Shakespeare, a cant term for a thief. So, in K. Henry IV. Part I: “Tut there are other Trojans that thou dream'st not of, &c.” Again, in this scene, “&lblank; unless you play the honest Trojan, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 876 7Stuck with cloves.] An orange stuck with cloves appears to have been a common new-year's gift. So, Ben Jonson, in his Christmas Masque:—“he has an orange and rosemary, but not a clove to stick in it.” A gilt nutmeg is mentioned in the same piece, and on the same occasion. Steevens.

Note return to page 877 8&lblank; he would fight, yea,] Thus all the old copies. Theobald very plausibly reads—he would fight ye; a common vulgarism. Steevens.

Note return to page 878 9&lblank; more Ates;] That is, more instigation. Ate was the mischievous goddess that incited bloodshed. Johnson. So, in K. John: “An Até, stirring him to war and strife.” Steevens.

Note return to page 879 1&lblank; my arms &lblank;] The weapons and armour which he wore in the character of Pompey. Johnson.

Note return to page 880 2it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen, &c.] This may possibly allude to a story well known in our author's time, to this effect. A Spaniard at Rome falling in a duel, as he lay expiring, an intimate friend, by chance, came by, and offered him his best services. The dying man told him he had but one request to make him, but conjured him, by the memory of their past friendship, punctually to comply with it, which was not to suffer him to be stript, but to bury him as he lay, in the habit he then had on. When this was promised, the Spaniard closed his eyes, and expired with great composure and resignation. But his friend's curiosity prevailing over his good faith, he had him stript, and found, to his great surprise, that he was without a shirt. Warburton. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen, &c.] This is a plain reference to the following story in Stow's Annals, p. 98. (in the time of Edward the Confessor.) “Next after this (king Edward's first cure of the king's evil) mine authors affirm, that a certain man, named Vifunius Spileorne, the son of Ulmore of Nutgarshall, who, when he hewed timber in the wood of Brutheullena, laying him down to sleep after his sore labour, the blood and humours of his head so congealed about his eyes, that he was thereof blind, for the space of nineteen years; but then (as he had been moved in his sleep) he went woolward and bare-footed to many churches, in every of them to pray to God for help in his blindness.” Dr. Gray. The same custom is alluded to in an old collection of Satyres, Epigrams, &c. “And when his shirt's a washing, then he must “Go woolward for the time; he scorns it, he, “That worth two shirts his laundress should him see.” Again, in a Merry Geste of Robyn Hoode, bl. l. no date: “Barefoot, woolward have I hight, “Thether for to go.” Again, in Powell's Hist. of Wales, 1584: “The Angles and Saxons slew 1000 priests and monks of Bangor, with a great number of lay-brethren, &c. who were come bare-footed and woolward to crave mercy, &c. Steevens. In Lodge's Incarnate Devils, 1596, we have the character of a swashbuckler: “His common course is to go always untrust; except when his shirt is a washing, and then he goes woolward.” Farmer. Woolward] I have no shirt: “I go woolward for penance.” The learned Dr. Gray, whose accurate knowledge of our old historians has often thrown much light on Shakespeare, supposes that this passage is a plain reference to a story in Stowe's Annals, p. 98. But where is the connection or resemblance between this monkish tale and the passage before us? There is nothing in the story, as here related by Stowe, that would even put us in mind of this dialogue between Boyet and Armado, except the singular expression go woolward; which, at the same time is not explained by the annotator, nor illustrated by his quotation. To go woolward, I believe, was a phrase appropriated to pilgrims and penitentiaries. In this sense it seems to be used in Pierce Plowman's Visions, Pass. xviii. fol. 96. b. edit. 1550: “Wolward and wetshod went I forth after “An a reechless reuke, that of no wo retcheth, “An yedeforth like a lorell, &c.” Skinner derives woolward from the Saxon wol, plague, secondarily any great distress, and weard, toward. Thus, says he, it signifies, “in magno discrimine & expectatione magni mali constitutus.” I rather think it should be written woolward, and that it means cloathed in wool, and not in linen. This appears, not only from Shakespeare's context, but more particularly from an historian who relates the legend before cited, and whose words Stowe has evidently translated. This is Ailred abbot of Rievaulx, who says, that our blind man was admonished, “Ecclesias numero octoginta nudis pedibus et absque linteis circumire.” Dec. Scriptor. 392. 50. The same story is told by William of Malmsbury, Gest. Reg. Angl. lib. ii. p. 91. edit. 1601. And in Caxton's Legenda Aurea, fol. 307. edit. 1493. By the way it appears, that Stowe's Vifunius Spileorne, son of Ulmore of Nutgarshall, ought to be Wulwin, surnamed de Spillicote, son of Wulmar de Lutegarshalle, now Ludgershall: and the wood of Brutheullena is the forest of Bruelle, now called Brill, in Buckinghamshire. Warton.

Note return to page 881 3I have seen the days of wrong through the little hole of discretion,] This has no meaning. We should read, the day of right, i. e. I have seen that a day will come when I shall have justice done me, and therefore I prudently reserve myself for that time. Warburton. I believe it rather means, I have hitherto looked on the indignities I have received, with the eyes of discretion, (i. e. not been too forward to resent them) and will insist on such satisfaction as will not disgrace my character, which is that of a soldier. To have decided the quarrel in the manner proposed by his antagonist, would have been at once a derogation from the honour of a soldier, and the pride of a Spaniard. “One may see day at a little hole,” is a proverb in Ray's Collection: “Day light will peep through a little hole,” in Kelly's. Steevens.

Note return to page 882 4&lblank; liberal &lblank;] Liberal, in our author, frequently signifies, as in this instance, free to excess. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “&lblank; like a most liberal villain, “Confess'd,” &c. Again, in Othello: “I'll be in speaking liberal as the North.” Steevens.

Note return to page 883 5In the converse of breath, &lblank;] Perhaps converse may, in this line, mean interchange. Johnson.

Note return to page 884 6An heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:] Thus all the editions; but, surely, without either sense or truth. None are more humble in speech, than they who labour under any oppression. The princess is desiring her grief may apologize for her not expressing her obligations at large; and my correction is conformable to that sentiment. Besides, there is an antithesis between heavy and nimble; but between heavy and humble, there is none. Theobald. The following passage in K. John inclines me to dispute the propriety of Theobald's emendation: “&lblank; grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.” By humble, the princess seems to mean obsequiously thankful. Steevens.

Note return to page 885 7And often, at his very loose, decides, &c.] At his very loose, may mean, at the moment of his parting, i. e. of his getting loose, or away from us. So in some ancient poem of which I forgot to preserve either the date or title: “Envy discharging all her pois'nous darts,   “The valiant mind is temper'd with that fire, “At her fierce loose that weakly never parts,   “But in despight doth force her to retire. Steevens.

Note return to page 886 8&lblank; which fain it would convince;] We must read: &lblank; which fain would it convince; that is, the entreaties of love which would fain over-power grief. So Lady Macbeth declares, “That she will convince the chamberlains with wine.” Johnson.

Note return to page 887 9Honest plain words &c.] As it seems not very proper for Biron to court the princess for the king in the king's presence at this critical moment, I believe the speech is given to a wrong person. I read thus: Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double: Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief. King. And by these badges, &c. Johnson. Too many authors sacrifice propriety to the consequence of their principal character, into whose mouth they are willing to put more than justly belongs to him, or at least the best things they have to say. The original actor of Biron, however, like Bottom in the Midsummer Night's Dream, might have taken this speech out of the mouth of an inferior performer. Steevens.

Note return to page 888 1Suggested us &lblank;] That is, tempted us. Johnson.

Note return to page 889 2As bombast and as lining to the time:] This line is obscure. Bombast was a kind of loose texture not unlike what is now called wadding, used to give the dresses of that time bulk and protuberance, without much increase of weight; whence the same name is given to a tumour of words unsupported by solid sentiment. The princess, therefore, says, that they considered this courtship as but bombast, as something to fill out life, which not being closely united with it, might be thrown away at pleasure. Johnson. Prince Henry calls Falstaff, “&lblank; my sweet creature of bombast.” Steevens.

Note return to page 890 3But more devout than these are our respects Have we not been; &lblank;] This nonsense should be read thus: But more devout than this, (save our respects) Have we not been; &lblank; i. e. save the respect we owe to your majesty's quality, your courtship we have laugh'd at, and made a jest of. Warburton.   We have receiv'd your letters full of love; Your favours the ambassadors of love; And in our maiden council rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time; But more devout than these are our respects Have we not been, and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment. The sixth verse being evidently corrupted, Dr. Warburton proposes to read: But more devout than this, (save our respects) Have we not been; &lblank; Dr. Johnson prefers the conjecture of sir Thomas Hanmer: But more devout than this, in our respects. I would read, with less violence, I think, to the text, though with the alteration of two words: But more devout than these are your respects Have we not seen, &lblank; Tyrwhitt. I read with sir T. Hanmer: But more devout than this, in our respects, Johnson. The difficulty I believe arises only from Shakespeare's remarkable position of his words, which may be thus construed.— But we have not been more devout, or made a more serious matter of your letters and favours than these our respects, or considerations and reckonings of them, are, and as we have just before said, we rated them in our maiden council at courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy. Tollet.

Note return to page 891 4We did not coat them so.] We should read, quote, esteem, reckon, though our old writers spelling by the ear, probably wrote cote, as it was pronounced. Johnson. We did not quote 'em so, is, we did not regard them as such. So, in Hamlet: “I'm sorry that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him. See, act II. sc. i.” Steevens.

Note return to page 892 5To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,] Dr. Warburton would read fetter, but flatter or sooth is, in my opinion, more apposite to the king's purpose than fetter. Perhaps we may read: To flatter on these hours of time with rest; That is, I would not deny to live in the hermitage, to make the year of delay pass in quiet. Johnson.

Note return to page 893 6Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too: your sins are rank: You are attaint with fault and perjury: Therefore if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick.] These six verses both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think should be expunged; and therefore I have put them between crotches: not that they were an interpolation, but as the authors first draught, which he afterwards rejected; and executed the same thought a little lower with much more spirit and elegance. Shakespeare is not to answer for the present absurd repetition, but his actor-editors; who, thinking Rosaline's speech too long in the second plan, had abridg'd it to the lines above quoted; but, in publishing the play, stupidly printed both the original speech of Shakespeare, and their own abridgment of it. Theobald.

Note return to page 894 7&lblank; are rank.] The folio and 4to 1631, read—are rack'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 895 8&lblank; fierce endeavour. &lblank;] Fierce is vehement, rapid. So, in K. John: “&lblank; fierce extremes of sickness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 896 9&lblank; dear groans,] Dear should here, as in many other places, be dere, sad, odious. Johnson. I believe dear in this place, as in many others, means only immediate, consequential. So, already in this scene: &lblank; full of dear guiltiness. Steevens.

Note return to page 897 1The characters of Biron and Rosaline, suffer much by comparison with those of Benedick and Beatrice. We know that Love's Labour's Lost was the elder performance; and as our author grew more experienced in dramatic writing, he might have seen how much he could improve on his own originals. To this circumstance, perhaps, we are indebted for the more perfect comedy of Much Ado about Nothing. Steevens.

Note return to page 898 2When, &c.] The first lines of this song that were transposed, have been replaced by Mr. Theobald. Johnson.

Note return to page 899 3Cuckow-buds] Gerard in his Herbal, 1597, says, that the flos cuculi, cardamine, &c. are called “in English cuckoo-flowers, in Norfolk Canterbury-bells, and at Namptwich in Cheshire ladiesmocks.” Shakespeare, however, might not have been sufficiently skilled in botany to be aware of this particular. Mr. Tollet has observed that Lyte in his Herbal, 1578 and 1579, remarks, that cowslips are in French, of some called coquu, prime vere, and brayes de coquu. This he thinks will sufficiently account for our author's cuckoo-buds, by which he supposes cowslip-buds to be meant; and further directs the reader to Cotgrave's Dictionary, under the articles—Cocu, and herbe a coqu. Steevens. Cuckow-buds must be wrong. I believe cowslip-buds, the true reading. Farmer.

Note return to page 900 4Do paint the meadows with delight;] This is a pretty rural song, in which the images are drawn with great force from nature. But this senseless expletive of painting with delight, I would read thus: Do paint the meadows much-bedight, i. e. much bedecked or adorned as they are in spring-time. The epithet is proper, and the compound not inelegant. Warburton. Much less elegant than the present reading. Johnson.

Note return to page 901 5&lblank; doth keel the pot.] This word is yet used in Ireland, and signifies to scum the pot. Goldsmith. So, in Marston's What you Will, 1607:—“Faith, Doricus, thy brain boils, keel it, keel it, or all the fat's in the fire.” Steevens. To keel the pot is certainly to cool it, but in a particular manner: it is to stir the pottage with the ladle to prevent the boiling over. Farmer. To keel signifies to cool in general, without any reference to the kitchen. So, in Gower De Confessione Amantis. lib. v. fol. 121. b. “The cote he found, and eke he feleth “The mace, and than his herte keleth “That there durst he not abide.” Again, fol. 131. b. “With water on his finger ende “Thyne hote tonge to kele.” Mr. Lambe observes in his notes on the ancient metrical History of the Battle of Floddon, that it is a common thing in the North “for a maid servant to take out of a boiling pot a wheen, i. e. a small quantity, viz. a porringer or two of broth, and then to fill up the pot with cold water. The broth thus taken out, is called the keeling wheen. In this manner greasy Joan keeled the pot.” “Gie me beer, and gie me grots, “And lumps of beef to swum abeen; “And ilka time that I stir the pot, “He's hae frae me the keeling wheen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 902 6the parson's saw] Saw seems anciently to have meant, not as at present, a proverb, a sentence, but the whole tenor of any instructive discourse. So, in the fourth chapter of the first book of the Tragedies of John Bochas, translated by Lidgate: “These old poetes in their sawes swete “Full covertly in their verses do fayne, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 903 7When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,] So, in the Midsummer Night's Dream: “And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, “In very likeness of a roasted crab.” Again, in Like will to Like, quoth the Devil to the Collier, 1587: “Now a crab in the fire were worth a good groat: “That I might quaffe with my captain Tom Toss-pot.” Again, “Good hostess lay a crab in the fire, and broil a mess of souse-a.” Steevens.

Note return to page 904 8In this play, which all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejected as unworthy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are many passages mean, childish, and vulgar; and some which ought not to have been exhibited, as we are told they were, to a maiden queen. But there are scattered through the whole many sparks of genius; nor is there any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shakespeare. Johnson.

Note return to page 905 10902001THIS child of fancy, that Armado hight, &c.] This, as I have shewn in the note in its place, relates to the stories in the books of chivalry. A few words, therefore, concerning their origin and nature, may not be unacceptable to the reader. As I don't know of any writer, who has given any tolerable account of this matter: and especially as monsieur Huet, the bishop of Avranches, who wrote a formal treatise of the Origin of Romances, has said little or nothing of these in that superficial work. For having brought down the account of romances to the later Greeks, and entered upon those composed by the barbarous western writers, which have now the name of Romances almost appropriated to them, he puts the change upon his reader, and instead of giving us an account of these books of chivalry, one of the most curious and interesting parts of the subject he promised to treat of, he contents himself with a long account of the poems of the provincial writers, called likewise romances; and so, under the equivoque of a common term, drops his proper subject, and entertains us with another, that had no relation to it more than in the name. The Spaniards were of all others the fondest of these fables, as suiting best their extravagant turn to gallantry and bravery; which in time grew so excessive, as to need all the efficacy of Cervantes's incomparable satire to bring them back to their senses. The French suffered an easier cure from their doctor Rabelais, who enough discredited the books of chivalry, by only using the extravagant stories of its giants, &c. as a cover for another kind of satire against the refined politicks of his countrymen; of which they were as much possessed as the Spaniards of their romantic bravery. A bravery our Shakespeare makes their characteristic, in this description of a Spanish gentleman: A man of compliments, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: This child of fancy, that Armado hight, For interim to our studies, shall relate, In high-born words, the worth of many a knight, From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. The sense of which is to this effect: This gentleman, says the speaker, shall relate to us the celebrated stories recorded in the old romances, and in their very style. Why he says, from tawny Spain, is because these romances, being of the Spanish original, the heroes and the scene were generally of that country. He says, lost in the world's debate, because the subjects of those romances were the crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. Indeed, the wars of the Christians against the Pagans were the general subject of the romances of chivalry. They all seem to have had their ground-work in two fabulous monkish historians: the one, who, under the name of Turpin, archbishop of Rheims, wrote the History and Atchievements of Charlemagne and his Twelve Peers; to whom, instead of his father, they assigned the task of driving the Saracens out of France and the south parts of Spain: the other, our Geoffry of Monmouth. Two of those peers, whom the old romances have rendered most famous, were Oliver and Rowland. Hence Shakespeare makes Alençon, in the first part of Henry VI. say; “Froyssard, a countryman, of ours, records, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, during the time Edward the third did reign.” In the Spanish romance of Bernardo del Carpio, and in that of Roncesvalles, the feats of Roland are recorded under the name of Roldan el encantador; and in that of Palmerin del Oliva * [[Subnote: *Dr. Warburton is quite mistaken in deriving Oliver from (Palmerin de) Oliva, which is utterly incompatible with the genius of the Spanish language. The old romance, of which Oliver was the hero, is entitled in Spanish “Historias de los nobles Cavalleros Oliveros de Castilla, y Artus de Algarbe, in fol. en Valladolid, 1501, in fol. en Sevilla, 1507;” and in French thus, “Histoire d' Olivier de Castille, & Artus d' Algarbe son loyal compagnon, & de Heleine, Fille au Roy d' Angleterre, &c. translatée du Latin par Phil. Camus, in fol. Gothique.” It has alow appeared in English. See Ames's Typograph. p. 94, 47. Percy.], or simply Oliva, those of Oliver: for Oliva is the same in Spanish as Olivier is in French. The account of their exploits is in the higest degree monstrous and extravagant, as appears from the judgment passed upon them by the priest in Don Quixote, when he delivers the knight's library to the secular arm of the house-keeper, “Eccetuando à un Bernardo del Carpio que anda por ay, y à otro llmado Roncesvalles; que estos en llegando a mis manos, an de estar en las de la ama, y dellas en las del fuego sin remission alguna * [Subnote: *B. i. c. 6.].” And of Oliver he says, “essa Oliva se haga luego raxas, y se queme, que aun no queden della las cenizas † [Subnote: †Ibid.].” The reasonableness of this sentence may be partly seen from one story in the Bernardo del Carpio, which tells us, that the cleft called Roldan, to be seen in the summit of an high mountain in the kingdom of Valencia, near the town of Alicant, was made with a single back-stroke of that hero's broad sword. Hence came the proverbial expression of our plain and sensible ancestors, who were much cooler readers of these extravagancies than the Spaniards, of giving one a Rowland for his Oliver, that is, of matching one impossible lye with another: as, in French, faire le Roland means, to swagger. This driving the Saracens out of France and Spain, was, as we say, the subject of the elder romances. And the first that was printed in Spain was the famous Amadis de Gaula, of which the inquisitor priest says: “segun he oydo dezir, este libro fué el primero de Cavallerias qui se imprimiò en Espana, y todos los demás an tomado principio y origen deste‡ [Subnote: ‡Ibid.];” and for which he humourously condemns it to the fire, coma à Dogmatazador de una secta tan mala. When this subject was well exhausted, the affairs of Europe afforded them another of the same nature. For after that the western parts had pretty well cleared themselves of these inhospitable guests: by the excitements of the popes, they carried their arms against them into Greece and Asia, to support the Byzantine empire, and recover the holy sepulchre. This gave birth to a new tribe of romances, which we may call of the second race or class. And as Amadis de Gaula was at the head of the first, so, correspondently to the subject, Amadis de Græcia was at the head of the latter. Hence it is, we find, that Trebizonde is as celebrated in these romances as Roncesvalles is in the other. It may be worth observing, that the two famous Italian epic poets, Ariosto and Tasso, have borrowed, from each of these classes of old romances, the scenes and subjects of their several stories: Ariosto choosing the first, the Saracens in France and Spain; and Tasso, the latter, the Crusade against them in Asia: Ariosto's hero being Orlando, or the French Roland: for as the Spaniards, by one way of transposing the letters, had made it Roldan, so the Italians, by another, make it Orland. The main subject of these fooleries, as we have said, had its original in Turpin's famous History of Charlemagne and his Twelve Peers. Nor were the monstrous embellishments of enchantments, &c. the invention of the romancers, but formed upon eastern tales, brought thence by travellers from their crusades and pilgrimages; which indeed have a cast peculiar to the wild imaginations of the eastern people. We have a proof of this in the travels of sir J. Maundevile, whose excessive superstition and credulity, together with an impudent monkish addition to his genuine work, have made his veracity thought much worse of than it deserved. This voyager, speaking of the isle of Cos in the Archipelago, tells the following story of an enchanted dragon. “And also a zonge man, that wiste not of the dragoun, went out of a schipp, and went thorghe the isle, till that he cam to the castelle, and cam into the cave; and went so longe till that he fond a chambre, and there he saughe a damyselle, that kembed hire hede, and lokede in a myrour: and sche hadde moche tresoure abouten hire: and he trowed that sche hadde ben a comoun woman, that dwelled there to reiceyve men to folye. And he abode, till the damyselle saughe the schadowe of him in the myrour. And sche turned hire toward him, and asked him what he wolde. And he seyde, he wolde ben hire limman or paramour. And sche asked him, if that he were a knyghte. And he sayde, nay. And then sche sayde, that he myght not ben hire limman. But sche bad him gon azen unto his felowes, and make him knyghte, and come azen upon the morwe, and sche scholde come out of her cave before him; and thanne come and kysse hire on the mowth and have no drede. For I schalle do the no maner harm, alle be it that thou see me in lykeness of a dragoun. For thoughe thou see me hideouse and horrible to loken onne, I do the to wytene that it is made be enchauntement. For withouten doubte, I am none other than thou seest now, a woman; and herefore drede the noughte. And zyf thou kysse me, thou schalt have all this tresoure, and be my lord, and lord also of all that isle. And he departed, &c.” p. 29, 30. ed. 1725. Here we see the very spirit of a romance adventure. This honest traveller believed it all, and so, it seems, did the people of the isle. “And some men seyne (says he) that in the isle of Lango is zit the doughtre of Ypocras in forme and lykenesse of a great dragoun, that is an hundred fadme in lengthe, as men seyn, for I have not seen hire. And thei of the isles callen hire, lady of the land.” We are not to think then, these kind of stories, believed by pilgrims and travellers, would have less credit either with the writers or readers of romances: which humour of the times therefore may well account for their birth and favourable reception in the world. The other monkish historian, who supplied the romancers with materials, was our Geoffry of Monmouth. For it is not to be supposed, that these children of fancy (as Shakespeare in the place quoted above, finely calls them, insinuating that fancy hath its infancy as well as manhood) should stop in the midst of so extraordinary a career, or confine themselves within the lists of the terra firma. From him therefore the Spanish romancers took the story of the British Arthur, and the knights of his round table, his wife Gueniver, and his conjurer Merlin. But still it was the same subject, (essential to books of chivalry) the wars of Christians against Infidels. And, whether it was by blunder or design, they changed the Saxons into Saracens, I suspect by design; for chivalry without a Saracen was so very lame and imperfect a thing, that even that wooden image, which turned round on an axis, and served the knights to try their swords, and break their lances upon, was called, by the Italians and Spaniards, Saracino and Sarazino; so closely were these two ideas connected. In these old romances there was much religious superstition mixed with their other extravagancies; as appears even from their very names and titles. The first romance of Lancelot of the Lake and King Arthur and his Knights, is called the History of Saint Greaal. This saint Greaal was the famous relick of the holy blood pretended to be collected into a vessel by Joseph of Arimathea. So another is called Kyrie Eleison of Montauban. For in those days Deuteronomy and Paralipomenon were supposed to be the names of holy men. And as they made saints of their knights-errant, so they made knights-errant of their tutelary saints; and each nation advanced its own into the order of chivalry. Thus every thing in those times being either a saint or a devil, they never wanted for the marvellous. In the old romance of Launcelot of the Lake, we have the doctrine and discipline of the church as formally delivered as in Bellarmine himself. “Là confession (says the preacher) ne vaut rien si le cœur n'est repentant; et si tu es moult & eloigné de l'amour de nostre Seigneur, tu ne peus estre recordé si non par trois choses: premierement par la confession de bouche; secondement par une contrition de cœur, tiercement par peine de cœur, & par oeuvre d'aumône & charité. Telle est la droite voye d'aimer Dieu. Or va & si te confesse en cette maniere & recois la discipline des mains de tes confesseurs, car c'est le signe de merite.—Or mande le roy ses evesques, dont grande partie avoit en l'ost, & vinrent tous en sa chapelle. Le roy devant eux tout nud en pleurant & tenant son plein point de vint menuës verges, si les jetta devant eux, & leur dit en soupirant, qu'ils prissent de luy vengeance, car je suis le plus vil pecheur, &c.—Apres prinst discipline & d'eux & moult doucement la receut.” Hence we find the divinity-lectures of Don Quixote and the penance of his 'squire, are both of them in the ritual of chivalry. Lastly, we find the knight-errant, after much turmoil to himself, and disturbance to the world, frequently ended his course, like Charles V. of Spain, in a monastery; or turned hermit, and became a saint in good earnest. And this again will let us into the spirit of those dialogues between Sancho and his master, where it is gravely debated whether he should not turn saint or archbishop. There were several causes of this strange jumble of nonsense and religion. As first, the nature of the subject, which was a religious war or crusade: secondly, the quality of the first writers, who were religious men; and thirdly, the end of writing many of them, which was to carry on a religious purpose. We learn, that Clement V. interdicted justs and tournaments, because he understood they had much hindered the crusade decreed in the council of Vienna. “Torneamenta ipsa & hastiludia five juxtas in regnis Franciæ, Angliæ, & Almanniæ, & aliis nonnullis provinciis, in quibus ea consuevere frequentiùs exerceri, specialiter interdixit.” Extrav. de Torneamentis C. unic. temp. Ed. I. Religious men, I conceive, therefore, might think to forward the design of the crusades by turning the fondness for tilts and tournaments into that channel. Hence we see the books of knight-errantry so full of solemn justs and torneaments held at Trebizonde, Bizance, Tripoly, &c. Which wise project, I apprehend, it was Cervantes's intention to ridicule, where he makes his knight propose it as the best means of subduiug the Turk, to assemble all the knights-errant together by proclamation* [Subnote: *See Part ii. l. 5. c. 1.]. Warburton. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0264

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