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

Note return to page 2 2This play was entered at Stationers' Hall, Oct. 8. 1600, by Thomas Fisher. It is probable that the hint for it was received from Chaucer's Knight's Tale. Thence it is, that our author speaks of Theseus as duke of Athens. The tale begins thus: “Whilom as olde stories tellen us, “There was a Duk that highte Theseus, “Of Athenes he was lord and governour, &c.” Lage edit. v. 861. Lidgate too, the monk of Bury, in his translation of the Tragedies of John Bochas, calls him by the same title, chap. xii. l. 21. “Duke Theseus had the victorye.” Creon, in the tragedy of Jocasta, translated from Euripides in 1566, is called Duke Creon: So likewise Skelton: “Not lyke Duke Hamilcar, “Nor lyke Duke Asdruball.” Stanyhurst, in his translation of Virgil, calls Æneas, Duke Æneas; and in Heywood's Iron Age, 2d Part, 1632, Ajax is styled Duke Ajax, Palamedes, Duke Palamedes, and Nestor, Duke Nestor, &c. Steevens. There is an old black-letter'd pamphlet by W. Bettie, called Titana and Theseus: I have not seen it; but one might imagine from the coincidence of names that Shakespeare took a part of his plot from it. Farmer. This pamphlet was entered at Stationers' Hall, in 1608; but Shakespeare has taken no hints from it. Titania is also the name of the Queen of Fairies in Decker's Whore of Babylon, 1607. Steevens.

Note return to page 3 3Long withering out a young man's revenue.] Long withering out is, certainly, not good English. I rather think Shakespeare wrote, Long wintering on a young man's revenue. Warburton. That the common reading is not good English, I cannot perceive, and therefore find in myself no temptation to change it. Johnson. So, in Chapman's Translation of the 4th B. of Homer: “&lblank; there the goodly plant lies withering out his grace.” Steevens.

Note return to page 4 4&lblank; witch'd &lblank;] The old copies read bewitch'd. Johnson.

Note return to page 5 5&lblank; gawds, &lblank;] i. e. baubles, toys, trifles. Our author has the word frequently: See K. John, act III. sc. v. Again, in Apius and Virginia, 1575: “When gain is no grandsier, “And gaudes not set by, &c.” And, in Drayton's Mooncalf: “&lblank; and in her lap “A sort of paper puppets, gauds and toys.” The rev. Mr. Lambe in his notes on the ancient metrical history of the Battle of Floddon, observes that a gawd is a child's toy, and that the children in the North call their play-things gowdys, and their baby-house a gowdy-house. Steevens.

Note return to page 6 6Or to her death; according to our law,] By a law of Solon's, parents had an absolute power of life and death over their children. So it suited the poet's purpose well enough, to suppose the Athenians had it before.—Or perhaps he neither thought nor knew any thing of the matter. Warburton.

Note return to page 7 7To you your father should be as a god, One who compos'd your beauties; yea, and one, To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To Leave the figure, or disfigure it.] We should read: To 'Leve the figure, &c. i. e. releve, to heighten or to add to the beauty of the figure, which is said to be imprinted by him. 'Tis from the French, relever. Thus they say, Tapisseries relevées d'or. In the same sense they use enlever, which Maundeville makes English of in this manner.—“And alle the walles withinne ben covered with gold and sylver, in fyn plates: and in the plates ben stories and batayles of Knyghtes enleved.” p. 228. Rabelais, with a strain of buffoon humour, that equals the sober elegance of this passage in our poet, calls the small gentry of France, “Gentilhommes de bas relief.” Warburton. I know not why so harsh a word should be admitted with so little need; a word that, spoken, could not be understood, and of which no example can be shown. The sense is plain, you owe to your father a being which he may at pleasure continue or destroy. Johnson.

Note return to page 8 8&lblank; to die the death, &lblank;] Shakespeare employs this expression in King John; and I meet with it again in the second part of the Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “We will, my liege, else let us die the death.” So, in Preston's Cambyses: “Do not my grace entreat no more,   “For he shall die the death.” Again, “I give consent and make a vow   “That thou shalt die the death.” Again, in Mucedorus, Bremo says: “Who fights with me that doth not die the death?”

Note return to page 9 9Know of your youth,] Bring your youth to the question. Consider your youth. Johnson.

Note return to page 10 1For aye] i. e. for ever. So, in K. Edward II. by Marlow, 1622: “And sit for aye enthronized in heaven.” Again, in the Tragedy of Crœsus, 1604: “Whereas the other makes us live for ay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 11 2But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,] Thus all the copies; yet earthlier, is so harsh a word, and earthlier happy for happier earthly, a mode of speech so unusual, that I wonder none of the editors have proposed earlier happy. Johnson. It has since been observed, that Mr. Pope did propose earlier. We might read, earthly happier. Steevens.

Note return to page 12 3&lblank; to whose unwish'd yoke] Thus the modern editors; the particle to is wanting in the old copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 13 4You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him. I suspect that Shakespeare wrote: “Let me have Hermia; do you marry him.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 14 5Spotted] As spotless is innocent, so spotted is wicked. Johnson.

Note return to page 15 6Beteem them &lblank;] Give them, bestow upon them. The word is used by Spenser. Johnson. “So would I, said th' enchanter, glad and fain “Beteem to you his sword, you to defend.” Faery Queen. Again, in The Case is Altered. How? Ask Dalio and Milo, a Com. 1635: “I could beteeme her a better match.” But I rather think that to beteem in this place signifies (as in the northern counties) to pour out; from tommer Danish. Steevens.

Note return to page 16 7Too high to be enthrall'd to love.] This reading possesses all the editions, but carries no just meaning in it. Nor was Hermia displeas'd at being in love; but regrets the inconveniencies that generally attend the passion: either, the parties are disproportioned, in degree of blood and quality; or unequal, in respect of years; or brought together by the appointment of friends, and not by their own choice. These are the complaints represented by Lysander; and Hermia, to answer to the first, as she has done to the other two, must necessarily say: O cross! &lblank; too high to be inthrall'd to low! So the antithesis is kept up in the terms; and so she is made to condole the disproportion of blood and quality in lovers. Theobald. Sir T. H. adheres to the old reading. Steevens.

Note return to page 17 8The old editions read momentany, which is the old and proper word. The modern editors, momentary. Johnson.

Note return to page 18 9Brief as the lightning in the colly'd night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say,—Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up:] Though the word spleen be here employed oddly enough, yet I believe it right. Shakespeare, always hurried on by the grandeur and multitude of his ideas, assumes every now and then, an uncommon licence in the use of his words. Particularly in complex moral modes it is usual with him to employ one, only to express a very few ideas of that number of which it is composed. Thus wanting here to express the ideas—of a sudden, or—in a trice, he uses the word spleen; which, partially considered, signifying a hasty sudden fit, is enough for him, and he never troubles himself about the further or fuller signification of the word. Here, he uses the word spleen for a sudden hasty fit; so just the contrary, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, he uses sudden for spleenetic—sudden quips. And it must be owned this sort of conversation adds a force to the diction. Warburton. Brief as the lightning in the colly'd night,] colly'd, i. e. black, smutted with coal, a word still used in the midland counties. So, in Ben Jonson's Poetaster: “—Thou hast not collied thy face enough.” Steevens.

Note return to page 19 1I have a widow aunt, &c.] These lines perhaps might more properly be regulated thus: I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child, And she respects me as her only son; Her house from Athens is remov'd seven leagues, There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee, And to that place &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 20 2&lblank; remote, &lblank;] Remote is the reading of both the quartos; the folio has, &lblank; remov'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 21 3Lys. &lblank; If thou lov'st me then, Steal forth thy father's house, &c. Her. My good Lysander! I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, By, &c. &c. In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.] Lysander does but just propose her running away from her father at midnight, and straight she is at her oaths that she will meet him at the place of rendezvous. Not one doubt or hesitation, not one condition of assurance for Lysander's constancy. Either she was nauseously coming, or she had before jilted him, and he could not believe her without a thousand oaths. But Shakespeare observed nature at another rate.—The speeches are divided wrong, and must be thus rectified; when Lysander had proposed her running away with him, she replies: Her. My good Lysander &lblank; and is going on, to ask security for his fidelity. This he perceives, and interrupts her with the grant of what she demands. Lys. I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, &c. By all the vows that ever men have broke In number more than ever women spoke &lblank; Here she interrupts him in her turn; declares herself satisfied, and consents to meet him in the following words: Her. &lblank; In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. This division of the lines, besides preserving the character, gives the dialogue infinitely more force and spirit. Warburton. This emendation is judicious, but not necessary. I have therefore given the note without altering the text. The censure of men, as oftner perjured than women, seems to make that line more proper for the lady. Johnson.

Note return to page 22 4&lblank; by that fire that burn'd the Carthage queen,] Shakespeare had forgot that Theseus performed his exploits before the Trojan war, and consequently long before the death of Dido. Steevens.

Note return to page 23 5The quarto reads—your fair. Johnson. The reading of the quarto is the true one, and I have restored it. Fair is used again as a substantive in the Comedy of Errors: “My decayed fair, “A sunny look of his would soon repair.” Again, in The Death of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “But what foul hand hath harm'd Matilda's fair?” See a note on the Comedy of Errors, act II. sc. i. Again, in A Looking-Glass for London and England, 1617: “And fold in me the riches of thy fair.” Again, in the Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “Then tell me, love, shall I have all thy fair?” Again, in Greene's Never too Late, 1616: “Though she were false to Menelaus, yet her fair made him brook her follies.” Again, “Flora in tawny hid up all her flowers, “And would not diaper the meads with fair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 24 6Your eyes are lode-stars;] This was a complement not unfrequent among the old poets. The lode star is the leading or guiding star, that is, the pole-star. The magnet is, for the same reason, called the lode-stone, either because it leads iron, or because it guides the sailor. Milton has the same thought in L'Allegro: “Tow'rs and battlements he sees “Bosom'd high in tufted trees, “Where perhaps some beauty lies, “The cynosure of neighb'ring eyes.” Davies calls Elizabeth, “lode-stone to hearts, and lode-stone to all eyes.” Johnson. In Hall's Chronicle, Henry V. promises his friends to be their “guide, lodesman, and conductor.” So, in the Spanish Tragedy: “Led by the loadstar of her heav'nly looks.” Again, in the Battle of Alcazar, 1594: “The loadstar and the honour of our line.” Again, in the ancient Mystery of Candlemas-Day, 1512: “Chief lodesterre of my felicytie.” Steevens.

Note return to page 25 7&lblank; O, were favour so!] Favour is feature, countenance. So, in Twelfth-Night, act II. sc. iv: “&lblank; thine eye “Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves.” Steevens.

Note return to page 26 8This emendation is taken from the Oxford edition. The old reading is, Your words I catch. Johnson.

Note return to page 27 9&lblank; to be to you translated.] To translate, in our author, sometimes signifies to change, to transform. So, in Timon: “&lblank; to present slaves and servants “Translates his rivals” &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 28 1His folly, Helena, is, no fault of mine.] The folio and one of the quartos read, His folly, Helena, is none of mine. Johnson.

Note return to page 29 2Perhaps every reader may not discover the propriety of these lines. Hermia is willing to comfort Helena, and to avoid all appearance of triumph over her. She therefore bids her not to consider the power of pleasing, as an advantage to be much envied or much desired, since Hermia, whom she considers as possessing it in the supreme degree, has found no other effect of it than the loss of happiness. Johnson.

Note return to page 30 3Emptying our bosoms of their counsels swell'd; There my Lysander and myself shall meet: And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, To seek new friends, and strange companions.] This whole scene is strictly in rhyme; and that it deviates in these two couplets, I am persuaded, is owing to the ignorance of the first, and the inaccuracy of the later editors: I have therefore ventured to restore the rhymes, as I make no doubt but the poet first gave them. Sweet was easily corrupted into swell'd, because that made an antithesis to emptying: and strange companions our editors thought was plain English; but stranger companies, a little quaint and unintelligible. Our author very often uses the substantive, Stranger adjectively; and companies, to signify companions: as Rich. II. act I: “To tread the stranger paths of banishment.” And Hen. V: “His companies unletter'd, rude and shallow.” Theobald. Dr. Warburton retains the old reading, and perhaps justifiably; for a bosom swell'd with secrets does not appear as an expression unlikely to have been used by our author, who speaks of a stuff'd bosom in Macbeth. In Lylly's Midas, 1592, is a somewhat similar expression: “I am one of those whose tongues are swell'd with silence.” Again, in our author's K. Richard II. “&lblank; the unseen grief “That swells in silence in the tortur'd soul.” In the scenes of K. Richard II. there is likewise a mixture of rhime and blank verse. I have therefore restored the old reading, &lblank; strange companions. Mr. Tyrwhitt concurs with Theobald. Steevens.

Note return to page 31 4no quantity,] Quality seems a word more suitable to the sense than quantity, but either may serve. Johnson.

Note return to page 32 5in game] Game here signifies not contentious play, but sport, jest. So Spenser: “'twixt earnest, and 'twixt game.” Johnson.

Note return to page 33 6&lblank; Hermia's eyne,] This plural is common both in Chaucer and Spenser. So, in Chaucer's Character of the Prioresse, late edit. v. 152: “&lblank; hir eyen grey as glas.” Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. i. c. 4. st. 9: “While flashing beams do dare his feeble eyen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 34 7&lblank; this hail] Thus all the editions, except the quarto, 1600, printed by Roberts, which reads instead of this hail, his hail. Steevens.

Note return to page 35 8&lblank; the bellows-mender,] In Ben Jonson's masque of Pan's Anniversary, &c. a man of the same profession is introduced. I have been told that a bellows-mender was one who had the care of organs, regals, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 36 9In this scene Shakespeare takes advantage of his knowledge of the theatre, to ridicule the prejudices and competitions of the players. Bottom, who is generally acknowledged the principal actor, declares his inclination to be for a tyrant, for a part of fury, tumult, and noise, such as every young man pants to perform when he first steps upon the stage. The same Bottom, who seems bred in a tiring-room, has another histrionical passion. He is for engrossing every part, and would exclude his inferiors from all possibility of distinction. He is therefore desirous to play Pyramus, Thisbe, and the Lyon at the same time. Johnson.

Note return to page 37 1the scrip.] A scrip, Fr. escript, now written ecrit. So, Chaucer, in Troilus and Cressida, l. 2. 1130. “Scripe nor bil.” Again, in Heywood's, If you know not me, you know Nobody, 1633, Part II: “I'll take thy own word without scrip or scroll.” Holinshed likewise uses the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 38 2&lblank; grow to a point.] Dr. Warburton reads go on; but grow is used, in allusion to his name, Quince. Johnson. To grow to a point, I believe has no reference to the name of Quince. I meet with the same kind of expression in Wily Beguiled: “As yet we are grown to no conclusion.” Again, in The Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “Our reasons will be infinite, I trow, “Unless unto some other point we grow.” Again, in Much Ado about Nothing: “Grow this to what adverse issue it can.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602. B. vi. ch. 31. “The court therefore is well advis'd to sentence not to grow.” Again, in Holinshed's Reign of King John, p. 184: “—if the matter did not grow to any such enforcement.” Steevens. And so grow on to a point.] The sense, in my opinion, hath been hitherto mistaken; and instead of a point, a substantive, I would read appoint a verb, that is, appoint what parts each actor is to perform, which is the real case. Quince first tells them the name of the play, then calls the actors by their names, and after that, tells each of them what part is set down for him to act. Perhaps, however, only the particle a may be inserted by the printer, and Shakespeare wrote to point, i. e. to appoint. The word occurs in that sense in a poem by B. N. 1614, called I Would and would Not, stanza iii: “To point the captains every one their fight.” Warner.

Note return to page 39 3The most lamentable comedy, &c.) This is very probably a burlesque on the title page of Cambyses: “A lamentable Tragedie, mixed full of pleasant Mirth, containing, The Life of Cambises King of Percia, &c.” By Tho. Preston, bl. l. no date. Steevens. Lilly's Campaspe, which was printed in 1591, and is intituled a Tragical Comedy, was perhaps intended to be ridiculed. Malone.

Note return to page 40 4I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in:] We should read: A part to tear a cap in. for as a ranting whore was called a tear-sheet, [2d Part of Hen. IV.] so a ranting bully was called a tear-cap. For this reason it is, the poet makes bully Bottom, as he is called afterwards, wish for a part to tear a cap in. And in the antient plays, the bombast and the rant held the place of the sublime and pathetic: and indeed constituted the very essence of their tragical farces. Thus Bale, in his Acts of English Votaries, part 2. says—“grennyng like termagauntes in a play.” Warburton. In the old comedy of the Roaring Girl, 1611, there is a character called Tear-cat, who says: “I am called, by those who have seen my valour, Tear-cat.” In an anonymous piece called Histriomastix, or The Player Whipt, 1610, in six acts, a parcel of soldiers drag a company of players on the stage, and the captain says: “Sirrah, this is you that would rend and tear a cat upon a “stage, &c.” Again, in The Isle of Gulls, a comedy by J. Day, 1606: “I had rather hear two such jests, than a whole play of such Tear-cat thunderclaps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 41 5To make all split.] This is to be connected with the previous part of the speech; not with the subsequent rhymes. It was the description of a bully. In the second act of the Scornful Lady, we meet with “two roaring boys of Rome, that made all split.” Farmer. Again, in the Wild Goose Chace, by B. and Fletcher: “I love a sea voyage and a blustring tempest, “And let all split.” Steevens. I meet with the same expression in the Widow's Tears, by Chapman, 1612: “Her wit I must employ upon this business to prepare my next encounter, but in such a fashion as shall make all split.” Malone.

Note return to page 42 5As small, &c.] This passage shews how the want of women on the old stage was supplied. If they had not a young man who could perform the part with a face that might pass for feminine, the character was acted in a mask, which was at that time a part of a lady's dress so much in use that it did not give any unusual appearance to the scene: and he that could modulate his voice in a female tone might play the woman very successfully. It is observed in Downe's Memoirs of the Playhouse, that one of these counterfeit heroines moved the passions more strongly than the women that have since been brought upon the stage. Some of the catastrophes of the old comedies, which make lovers marry the wrong women, are, by recollection of the common use of masks, brought nearer to probability. Johnson. Prynne, in his Histriomastix, exclaims with great vehemence through several pages, because a woman acted a part in a play at Blackfryars in the year 1628. Steevens.

Note return to page 43 7&lblank; you must play Thisby's mother.] There seems a double forgetfulness of our poet, in relation to the characters of this interlude. The father and mother of Thisby, and the father of Pyramus, are here mentioned, who do not appear at all in the interlude; but Wall and Moonshine are both employed in it, of whom there is not the least notice taken here. Theobald. Theobald is wrong as to this last particular. The introduction of Wall and Moonshine was an after-thought. See act III. sc. i. It may be observed, however, that no part of what is rehearsed is afterwards repeated, when the piece is acted before Theseus. Steevens.

Note return to page 44 8there is a play fitted.] Both the quartos read here. Steevens.

Note return to page 45 9&lblank; slow of study.] Study is still the cant term used in a theatre for getting any nonsense by rote. Hamlet asks the player if he can “study” a speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 46 1&lblank; your perfect yellow.] Here Bottom again discovers a true genius for the stage by his solicitude for propriety of dress, and his deliberation which beard to chuse among many beards, all unnatural. Johnson. This custom of wearing coloured beards, the reader will find more amply explained in Measure for Measure, act IV. sc. ii. Steevens.

Note return to page 47 2&lblank; French crowns, &c.] That is, a head from which the hair has fallen in one of the last stages of the lues venerea, called the corona veneris. To this our poet has frequent allusions. Steevens.

Note return to page 48 3properties,] Properties are whatever little articles are wanted in a play for the actors, according to their respective parts, dresses and scenes excepted. The person who delivers them out is to this day called the property-man. So, in Albumazar, 1610: “Furbo, our beards, “Black patches for our eyes, and other properties.” Again, in Westward-Hoe, 1606: “I'll go make ready my rustical properties.” Steevens

Note return to page 49 4At the duke's oak we meet &lblank; hold, or cut bow-strings.] This proverbial phrase came originally from the camp. When a rendezvous was appointed, the militia soldiers would frequently make excuse for not keeping word, that their bowstrings were broke, i. e. their arms unserviceable. Hence when one would give another absolute assurance of meeting him, he would say proverbially—hold or cut bow-strings—i. e. whether the bow-string held or broke. For cut is used as a neuter, like the verb frets. As when we say, the string frets, the silk frets, for the passive, it is cut or fretted. Warburton. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0274 This interpretation is very ingenious, but somewhat disputable. The excuse made by the militia soldiers is a mere supposition, without proof; and it is well known that while bows were in use, no archer ever entered the field without a supply of strings in his pocket; whence originated the proverb, to have two strings to one's bow. In The Country Girl, a comedy by T. B. 1647, is the following threat to a fiddler: “&lblank; fiddler, strike, “I'll strike you, else, and cut your begging bowstrings.” The bowstrings in both these instances may only mean the strings which make part of the bow with which musical instruments of several kinds are struck. The propriety of the allusion I cannot satisfactorily explain. Steevens. Hold, or cut cod-piece point, is a proverb to be found in Ray's Collection, p. 57. edit. 1737. Collins.

Note return to page 50 5Over hill, over dale, &c.] So Drayton in his Court of Fairy: Thorough brake, thorough brier, Thorough muck, thorough mire, Thorough water, thorough fire. Johnson.

Note return to page 51 6&lblank; the moones sphere] Unless we suppose this to be the Saxon genitive case, (as it is here printed) the metre will be defective. So, in Spenser's Faery Queen, B. III. c. i. st, 15: “And eke through feare as white as whales bone.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0275

Note return to page 52 7To dew her orbs upon the green:] For orbs Dr. Gray is inclined to substitute herbs. The orbs here mentioned are the circles supposed to be made by the fairies on the ground, whose verdure proceeds from the fairy's care to water them. Thus Drayton: They in their courses make that round, In meadows and in marshes found, Of them so called the fairy ground. Johnson. Thus in Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus “&lblank; similes illis spectris, quæ in multis locis, præsertim nocturno tempore, suum saltatorium orbem cum omnium musarum concentu versare solent.” It appears from the same author, that these dancers always parched up the grass, and therefore it is properly made the office of Puck to refresh it. Steevens.

Note return to page 53 8The cowslip was a favourite among the fairies. There is a hint in Drayton of their attention to May morning: &lblank; For the queen a fitting tow'r, Quoth he, is that fair cowslip flow'r. &lblank; In all your train there's not a fay That ever went to gather May, But she hath made it in her way, The tallest there that groweth. Johnson.

Note return to page 54 9In their gold coats spots you see;] Shakespeare, in Cymbeline, refers to the same red spots: “A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops “I' th' bottom of a cowslip.” Percy. Perhaps there is likewise some allusion to the habit of a pensioner. See a note on the second act of the Merry Wives of Windsor, sc. ii. Steevens.

Note return to page 55 1And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.] The same thought occurs in an old comedy call'd the Wisdom of Doctor Dodypoll, 1600; i. e. the same year in which the first printed copies of this play made their appearance. An enchanter says: “'Twas I that led you through the painted meads “Where the light fairies danc'd upon the flowers, “Hanging on every leaf an orient pearl.” Steevens.

Note return to page 56 2&lblank; lob of spirits,] Lob, lubber, looby, lobcock, all denote both inactivity of body and dulness of mind. Johnson. So, in Preston's Cambyses: “It was such a foolish lob as thou.” Again, in Westward Hoe, 1606: “The lob has his lass, the collier his dowdy.” Both lob and lobcock are used as terms of contempt in The Rival Friends, 1632. Again, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “Hold thy hands, Lob.” Again, in the interlude of Jacob and Esau, 1568: “Should find Esau such a lout or a lob.” Again, in the Knight of the Burning Pestle, by B. and Fletcher: “There is a pretty tale of a witch that had the devil's mark about her, that had a giant to her son, that was called Lob-lye-by-the-fire.” This being seems to be of kin to the lubbar-fiend of Milton, as Mr. Warton has remarked in his Observations on the Faery Queen. Steevens.

Note return to page 57 3&lblank; changeling:] Changeling is commonly used for the child supposed to be left by the fairies, but here for the child taken away. Johnson.

Note return to page 58 4&lblank; Sheen,] Shining, bright, gay. Johnson. So, in Tancred and Guismund, 1592: “&lblank; but why “Doth Phœbus' sister sheen despite thy power?” Again, in the ancient romance of Syr Tryamoure, bl. l. no date: “He kyssed and toke his leve of the quene, “And of other ladies bright and shene.” Steevens.

Note return to page 59 5But they do square;] To square here is to quarrel. The French word contrecarrer has the same import. Johnson. So, in Jack Drum's Entertainment, 1601: “&lblank; let me not seem rude “That thus I seem to square with modesty.” “&lblank; pray let me go, for he'll begin to square, &c.” Again, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578: “Mary she knew you and I were at square, “And left we fell to blowes, she did prepare.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0276

Note return to page 60 6Robin Good-fellow;] This account of Robin Good-fellow corresponds, in every article, with that given of him in Harsenet's Declaration, ch. xx. p. 135: “And if that the bowle of curds and creame were not duly set out for Robin Good-fellow, the frier, and Sisse the dairy-maid, why then either the pottage was burnt to next day in the pot, or the cheeses would not curdle, or the butter would not come, or the ale in the fat never would have got head. But if a pater-noster, or an housle egge were beturned, or a patch of tythe unpaid—then beware of bull-beggars, spirits, &c.” He is mentioned by Cartwright as a spirit particularly fond of disconcerning and disturbing domestic peace and oeconomy. Saint Francis and Saint Benedight Blesse this house from wicked wight; From the night-mare and the goblin, That is hight good-fellow Robin. Keep it, &c. Cartwright's Ordinary, act III. sc. i. v. 8. Warton. Reginald Scot gives the same account of this frolicksome spirit, in his Discovery of Witchcraft, Lond. 1588. 4to. p. 66. “Your grandames, maids, were wont to set a bowl of milk for him, for his pains in grinding of malt and mustard, and sweeping the house at midnight—this white bread and bread and milk, was his standing fee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 61 7Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless huswife churn;] The sense of these lines is confused. Are not you he, says the fairy, that fright the country girls, that skim milk, work in the handmill, and make the tired dairy-woman churn without effect? The mention of the mill seems out of place, for she is not now telling the good but the evil that he does. I would regulate the lines thus: And sometimes make the breathless housewife churn Skim milk, and bootless labour in the quern. Or, by a simple transposition of the lines: And bootless, make the breathless housewife churn Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern. Yet there is no necessity of alteration. Johnson. A Quern is a hand-mill, kuerna, mola. Islandic. So in Stanyhurst's translation of the first book of Virgil, 1582, quern-stones are mill-stones: “Theyre corne in quern-stoans they do grind, &c.” Again, in The more the Merrier, a collection of epigrams, 1608: “Which like a querne can grind more in an hour.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the seventh book of the Odyssey: “&lblank; some apple-colour'd corne “Ground in faire quernes.” Again, in the old Song of Robin Goodfellow, printed in the 3d volume of Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: “I grind at mill, “Their malt up still, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 62 8&lblank; no barm;] Barme is a name for yeast, yet used in our midland counties, and universally in Ireland. So, in Mother Bombie, a comedy, 1594: “It behoveth my wits to work like barme, alias yeast.” Again, in the Humourous Lieutenant of B. and Fletcher: “I think my brains will work yet without barm.” Again, in the Return from Parnassus, 1606: “Such barmy heads will always be working.” Again, in the Prologue to Wily Beguiled: “Go to that barm-froth poet, and to him say, &c.” See Verstegan, p. 61. Steevens.

Note return to page 63 1Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work.] To those traditionary opinions Milton has reference in L'Allegro: Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, &lblank; With stories told of many a feat, How Fairy Mab the junkets eat; She was pinch'd and pull'd she said, And he by frier's lanthorn led; Tells how the drudging goblin sweat To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When in one night ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail had thresh'd the corn Which ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend. A like account of Puck is given by Drayton, in his Nymphidia: He meeteth Puck, which most men call Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall. &lblank; This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, Still walking like a ragged colt, And oft out of a bed doth bolt,   Of purpose to deceive us; And leading us makes us to stray, Long winters' nights out of the way, And when we stick in mire and clay,   He doth with laughter leave us. It will be apparent to him that shall compare Drayton's poem with this play, that either one of the poets copied the other, or, as I rather believe, that there was then some system of the fairy empire generally received, which they both represented as accurately as they could. Whether Drayton or Shakespeare wrote first, I cannot discover. Johnson. The editor of the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, in 4 vols, 8vo. 1775, has incontrovertibly proved Drayton to have been the follower of Shakespeare; for, says he, “Don Quixot (which was not published till 1605.) is cited in the Nymphidia, whereas we have an edition of the Midsummer Night's Dream in 1600.” In this century some of our poets have been as little scrupulous in adopting the ideas of their predecessors. In Gay's ballad, inserted in the What d'ye call It, is the following stanza: “How can they say that nature   “Has nothing made in vain; “Why then beneath the water   “Should hideous rocks remain? &c. &c. Compare this with a passage in Chaucer's Frankeleines Tale, late edit. v. 11179, &c. “In idel, as men sain, ye nothing make, “But, lord, thise grisly fendly rockes blake, &c. &c.” and Mr. Pope is more indebted to the same author for beauties inserted in his Eloisa to Abelard, than he has been willing to acknowledge. Steevens.

Note return to page 64 1&lblank; sweet Puck,] The epithet is by no means superfluous; as Puck alone was far from being an endearing appellation. It signified nothing better than fiend, or devil. So, the author of Pierce Ploughman puts the pouk for the devil, fol. lxxxx. b. v. penult. See also fol. lxvii. v. 15. “none helle powke.” It seems to have been an old Gothic word. Puke, puken; Sathanas. Gudm. And. Lexicon Island. Tyrwhitt. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0277

Note return to page 65 2Puck. Thou speak'st aright;] I would fill up the verse which I suppose the author left complete: I am, thou speak'st aright; It seems that in the Fairy mythology Puck, or Hobgoblin, was the trusty servant of Oberon, and always employed to watch or detect the intrigues of Queen Mab, called by Shakespeare Titania. For in Drayton's Nymphidia, the same fairies are engaged in the same business. Mab has an amour with Pigwiggen; Oberon being jealous, sends Hobgoblin to catch them, and one of Mab's nymphs opposes him by a spell. Johnson.

Note return to page 66 3&lblank; a roasted crab;] So, in the anonymous play of King Henry V. &c. “Yet we will have in store a crab in the fire, “With nut-brown ale.” Again, in Damon and Pythias, 1582: “And sit down in my chaire by my wife faire Alison, “And turne a crabbe in the fire, as merry as Pope John.” In Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600, Christmas is described as: “&lblank; sitting in a corner turning crabs, “Or coughing o'er a warmed pot of ale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 67 4The wisest aunt, &lblank;] Aunt is procuress. In Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575, the bawd Pandarina is always called aunt. “These are aunts of Antwerp, which can make twenty marriages in one week for their kinswomen.” See, Winter's Tale, act IV. sc. i. Among Ray's proverbial phrases is the following. “She is one of mine aunts that made mine uncle go a begging.” The wisest aunt may mean the most sentimental bawd. Steevens.

Note return to page 68 5And taylor cries,] The custom of crying taylor at a sudden fall backwards, I think I remember to have observed. He that slips beside his chair falls as a taylor squats upon his board. The Oxford editor, and Dr. Warburton after him, read and rails or cries, plausibly, but I believe not rightly. Besides, the trick of the fairy is represented as producing rather merriment than anger. Johnson.

Note return to page 69 6&lblank; hold their hips, and loffe,] “And laughter holding both his sides.” Milton. Steevens.

Note return to page 70 7And waxen,] And encrease, as the moon waxes. Johnson.

Note return to page 71 8But make room, faery. Thus the moderns. All the old copies read—But room Fairy. The word Fairy or Faery, was sometimes of three syllables, as often in Spenser. Johnson.

Note return to page 72 9Enter Oberon,] Oberon had been introduced on the stage in 1594, by some other author. In the Stationers' books is entered “The Scottishe story of James the fourthe, slain at Floddon; intermixed with a pleasant comedie presented by Oberon, King of Fairies.” The judicious editor of the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, in his Introductory Discourse, (See vol. iv. p. 161.) observes, that Pluto and Proserpina in the Marchant's Tale, appear to have been “the true progenitors of Shakespeare's Oberon and Titania.” Steevens.

Note return to page 73 1Queen.] As to the Fairy Queen, (says Mr. Warton in his Observations on Spenser) considered apart from the race of fairies, the notion of such an imaginary personage was very common. Chaucer, in his Rime of Sir Thopas, mentions her, together with a Fairy land: “In the old dayis of the king Arthure, “Of which the Bretons speken great honour; “All was this lond fulfillid of fayry: “The Elf-quene, with her jolly company “Daunsid full oft in many a grene mede: “This was the old opinion as I rede.” Wife of Bath's Tale. Steevens.

Note return to page 74 2Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night] We should read: Didst thou not lead him glimmering through the night. The meaning is, She conducted him in the appearance of fire through the dark night. Warburton. Of all attempts at emendation, surely this is the most unnecessary. The glimmering night is the night faintly illuminated by stars. In Macbeth our author says: “The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 75 3From Perigenia, whom he ravished?] Thus all the editors; but our author, who diligently perus'd Plutarch, and glean'd from him, where his subject would admit, knew, from the life of Theseus, that her name was Perigyne, (or Perigune) by whom Theseus had his son Melanippus. She was the daughter of Sinnis, a cruel robber, and tormentor of passengers in the Isthmus. Plutarch and Athenæus are both express in the circumstance of Theseus ravishing her. Theobald. Ægle, Ariadne, and Antiopa were all at different times mistresses to Theseus. See Plutarch. Theobald cannot be blamed for his emendation; and yet it is well known that our ancient authors, as well as the French and the Italians, were not scrupulously nice about proper names, but almost always corrupted them. Steevens.

Note return to page 76 4And never, since the middle summer's spring, &c.] There are not many passages in Shakespeare which one can be certain he has borrowed from the ancients; but this is one of the few that, I think, will admit of no dispute. Our author's admirable description of the miseries of the country being plainly an imitation of that which Ovid draws, as consequent on the grief of Ceres for the loss of her daughter: Nescit adhuc ubi sit; terras tamen increpat omnes, Ingratasque vocat, nec frugum munere dignas. &lblank; Ergo illic sæva vertentia glebas Fregit aratra manu, parilique irata colonos Ruricolasque boves letho dedit: arvaque jussit Fallere depositum, vitiataque femina fecit. Fertilitas terræ latum vulgata per orbem Sparsa jacet. Primis segetes moriuntur in herbis. Et modo sol nimius, nimius modo corripit imber: Sideraque ventique nocent. The middle summer's spring.] We should read that. For it appears to have been some years since the quarrel first began. Warburton. By the middle summer's spring, our author seems to mean the beginning of middle or mid summer. Spring for beginning he uses again: 2d. P. Hen. IV: “As flaws congealed in the spring of day.” which expression has authority from the scripture, St. Luke, ch. i. v. 78: “whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us.” Again, in the romance of Kynge Appolyn of Thyre, 1510: “&lblank; arose in a mornynge at the sprynge of the day, &c.” Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. iii. c. 10: “He wooed her till day-spring he espyde.” Ovid had been translated by Golding:—the first four books in 1565, and all the rest, in a few years afterwards. Steevens.

Note return to page 77 5Paved fountain;] A fountain laid round the edge with stone. Johnson. Perhaps paved at the bottom. So, Lord Bacon in his Essay on Gardens: “As for the other kind of fountaine, which we may call a bathing-poole, it may admit much curiosity and beauty. . . . . As that the bottom be finely paved . . . . the sides likewise, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 78 6&lblank; the winds, piping] So, Milton: “While rocking winds, are piping loud.” Johnson.

Note return to page 79 7&lblank; pelting river] Thus the quartos: the folio reads petty. Shakespeare has in Lear the same word, low pelting farms. The meaning is plainly, despicable, mean, sorry, wretched; but as it is a word without any reasonable etymology, I should be glad to dismiss it for petty: yet it is undoubtedly right. We have “petty pelting officer in Measure for Measure.” Johnson. So, in Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575: “Doway is a pelting town pack'd full of poor scholars.” This word is always used as a term of contempt. So, again in Lylly's Midas, 1592: “&lblank; attire never used but of old women and pelting priests.” Steevens.

Note return to page 80 8Overborn their continents.] Born down the banks that contained them. So, in Lear: “&lblank; close pent up guilts “Rive your concealing continents!” Johnson.

Note return to page 81 9&lblank; murrain flock:] The murrain is the plague in cattle. It is here used by Shakespeare as an adjective; as a substantive by others: “&lblank; sends him as a murrain “To strike our herds; or as a worser plague, “Your people to destroy.” Heywood's Silver Age, 1613. Steevens.

Note return to page 82 1The nine-mens' morris] This was some kind of rural game played in a marked ground. But what it was more, I have not found. Johnson. The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud;] In that part of Warwickshire where Shakespeare was educated, and the neighbouring parts of Northamptonshire, the shepherds and other boys dig up the turf with their knives to represent a sort of imperfect chessboard. It consists of a square, sometimes only a foot diameter, sometimes three or four yards. Within this is another square, every side of which is parallel to the external square; and these squares are joined by lines drawn from each corner of both squares, and the middle of each line. One party, or player, has wooden pegs, the other stones, which, they move in such a manner as to take up each other's men as they are called, and the area of the inner square is called the Pound, in which the men taken up are impounded. These figures are by the country people called Nine Men's Morris, or Merrils, and are so called, because each party has nine men. These figures are always cut upon the green turf or leys, as they are called, or upon the grass at the end of ploughed lands, and in rainy seasons never fail to be choaked up with mud. James. See Peck on Milton's Masque, 115, vol. i. p. 135. Steevens. Nine men's morris is a game still play'd by the shepherds, cowkeepers, &c. in the midland counties, as follows: A figure is made on the ground (like this which I have drawn) by cutting out the turf; and two persons take each nine stones, which they place by turns in the angles, and afterwards more alternately, as at chess or draughts. He who can place three in a strait line, may then take off any one of his adversary's, where he pleases, till one, having lost all his men, loses the game. In Cotgrave's Dictionary, under the article Merelles, is the following explanation. “Le Jeu des Merelles. The boyish game called Merils, or fivepenny morris; played here most commonly with stones, but in France with pawns, or men made on purpose, and termed merelles.” The pawns or figures of men used in the game might originally be black, and hence called morris, or merelles, as we yet term a black cherry a morello, and a small black cherry a merry, perhaps from Maurus a Moor, or rather from morum a mulberry. Tollet.

Note return to page 83 2The human mortals.] Shakespeare might have employ'd this epithet, which, at first sight, appears redundant, to mark the difference between men and fairies. Fairies were not human, but they were yet subject to mortality. Steevens.

Note return to page 84 3The human mortals want their winter here,] But sure it was not one of the circumstances of misery, here recapitulated, that the sufferers wanted their winter. On the contrary, in the poetical descriptions of the golden age, it was always one circumstance of their happiness that they wanted winter. This is an idle blunder of the editors. Shakespeare without question wrote: “The human mortals want their winter heryed,” i. e. praised, celebrated. The word is obsolete; but used both by Chaucer and Spenser in this signification: “Tho' wouldest thou learne to caroll of love, “And hery with hymnes thy lassie's glove.” Spenc. Cal. Feb. The following line confirms the emendation. No night is now with Hymn or Carol blest; and the propriety of the sentiment is evident. For the winter is the season of rural rejoicing, as the gloominess of it and its vacancy from country labours give them the inclination and opportunity for mirth; and the fruits, now gathered in, the means. Well therefore might she say, when she had described the dearths of the seasons and fruitless toil of the husbandmen, that The human mortals want their winter heryed. But, principally, since the coming of Christianity, this season, in commemoration of the birth of Christ, has been particularly devoted to festivity. And to this custom, notwithstanding the impropriety, hymn or carol blest certainly alludes. Mr. Theobald says, he should undoubtedly have advanced this conjecture into the text, but that Shakespeare seems rather fond of hallow'd. Rather than what? hallowed is not synonymous to heryed, but to blest. What was he thinking of? The ambiguity of the English word blest confounded him, which signifies either prais'd or sanctified. Warburton. After all the endeavours of the editors, this passage still remains to me unintelligible. I cannot see why winter is, in the general confusion of the year now described, more wanted than any other season. Dr. Warburton observes that he alludes to our practice of singing carols in December; but though Shakespeare is no great chronologer in his dramas, I think he has never so mingled true and false religion, as to give us reason for believing that he would make the moon incensed for the omission of our carols. I therefore imagine him to have meant heathen rites of adoration. This is not all the difficulty. Titania's account of this calamity is not sufficiently consequential. Men find no winter, therefore they sing no hymns: the moon provoked by this omission, alters the seasons: that is, the alteration of the seasons produces the alteration of the seasons. I am far from supposing that Shakespeare might not sometimes think confusedly, and therefore am not sure that the passage is corrupted. If we should read: And human mortals want their wonted year, yet will not this licence of alteration much mend the narrative; the cause and the effect are still confounded. Let us carry critical temerity a little further. Scaliger transposed the lines of Virgil's Gallus. Why may not the same experiment be ventured upon Shakespeare: The human mortals want their wonted year, The seasons alter; hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown, An od'rous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mock'ry set. The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which. No night is now with hymn or carol blest; Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air; And thorough this distemperature, we see That rheumatick diseases do abound. And this same progeny of evil comes From our debate, from our dissension. I know not what credit the reader will give to this emendation, which I do not much credit myself. Johnson. I think we ought to read: The human mortals want their winter cheer.9Q0278 according to sir T. Hanmer's correction. Tyrwhitt. The repeated adverb therefore, throughout this speech, I suppose to have constant reference to the first time when it is used. —All these irregularities of season, happened in consequence of the disagreement between the king and queen of the fairies, and not in consequence of each other.—Ideas crowded fast on Shakespeare; and as he committed them to paper, he did not attend to the distance of the leading object from which they took their rise.—Mr. Malone concurs with me on this occasion. See his note, which, on account of its length, is added at the conclusion of the play. That the festivity and hospitality attending Christmas, decreased, was the subject of complaint to many of our ludicrous writers. Among the rest, to Nash, whose comedy called Summer's Last Will and Testament, made its first appearance in the same year with this play, viz. 1600. There Christmas is introduced, and Summer says to him: “Christmas, how chance thou com'st not as the rest “Accompanied with some music or some song? “A merry carrol would have grac'd thee well, “Thy ancestors have us'd it heretofore. Christmas. “Ay, antiquity was the mother of ignorance, &c.” and then proceeds to give reasons for such a decay in mirth and housekeeping. The confusion of seasons here described, is no more than a poetical account of the weather, which happened in England about the time when this play was first published. For this information I am indebted to chance, which furnished me with a few leaves of an old meteorological history. Steevens.

Note return to page 85 4distemperature,] is perturbation of the elements. Steevens.

Note return to page 86 5Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;] To have “snow in the lap of June,” is an expression used in Northward Hoe, 1607, and Shakespeare himself in Coriolanus, talks of the “consecrated snow that lies on Dian's lap:” and Spenser in his Faery Queen, B. ii. c. 2. has: “And fills with flow'rs fair Flora's painted lap.” Steevens.

Note return to page 87 6&lblank; Hyems' chin,] Dr. Gray, not inelegantly conjectures, that the poet wrote: “&lblank; on old Hyems' chill and icy crown.” It is not indeed easy to discover how a chaplet can be placed on the chin. Steevens. It [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 88 for It, read, I.

Note return to page 89 7The childing autumn,] is the pregnant autumn, frugifer autumnus. So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “Fifty in number childed all one night.” Again, in his Golden Age, 1611: “I childed in a cave remote and silent.” Again, in his Silver Age, 1613: “And at one instant she shall child two issues.” There is a rose called the childing rose. Steevens.

Note return to page 90 8By their increase,] That is, By their produce. Johnson. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0279

Note return to page 91 9henchman.] Page of honour. This office was abolished by queen Elizabeth. Gray. The office might be abolished at court, but probably remained in the city. Glapthorne, in his comedy called Wit in a Constable, 1637, has this passage: “&lblank; I will teach his hench-boys, “Serjeants, and trumpeters to act, and save “The city all that charges.” So, again: “When she was lady may'ress, and you humble “As her trim hench-boys.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Christmas Masque,—“he said grace as well as any of the sheriff's hench-boys. Again, in the Roaring Girl, 1611: “&lblank; oh, to go a feasting with, “You'd have it for a hench-boy.” Skinner derives the word from Hine A. S. quasi domesticus famulus. Spelman from Hengstman, equi curator, &grir;&grp;&grp;&gro;&grk;&gro;&grm;&gro;&grst;. Steevens. Upon the establishment of the household of Edward IV. were “henxmen six enfants, or more, as it pleyseth the king, eatinge in the halle, &c. There was also a maister of the henxmen, to shewe them the schoole of nurture, and learne them to ride, to wear their harnesse; to have all curtesie—to teach them all languages, and other virtues, as harpinge, pypinge, singinge, dauncinge, with honest bebavioure of temperaunce and patyence.” MS. Harl. 293. At the funeral of Henry VIII. nine henchmen attended with sir Francis Bryan, master of the henchmen. Strype's Eccl. Mem. v. 2. App. n. I. Tyrwhitt. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0280

Note return to page 92 1Which she with pretty and with swimming gate Following (her womb then rich with my young 'squire) Would imitate &lblank;] Following what? she did not follow the ship, whose motion she imitated: for that sailed on the water, she on the land. If by following, we are to understand imitating, it will be a mere pleonasm—imitating would imitate. From the poet's description of the actions, it plainly appears we should read: follying &lblank; Would imitate; i. e. wantoning in sport and gaiety. Thus the old English writers —“and they beleeven folyly and falsly”—says sir J. Maundeville, from and in the sense of folâtrer, to play the wanton. This exactly agrees to the action described—full often has she gossip'd by my side—and—when we have laugh'd to see. Warburton. The foregoing note is very ingenious, but since follying is a word of which I know not any example, and the Fairy's favourrite might, without much licentiousness of language, be said to follow a ship that sailed in the direction of the coast; I think there is no sufficient reason for adopting it. The coinage of new words is a violent remedy, not to be used but in the last necessity. Johnson. Perhaps the parenthesis should begin sooner; as I think Mr. Kenrick observes: (Following her womb, then rich with my young 'squire,) So, in Trulla's combat with Hudibras: “&lblank; She press'd so home, “That he retired, and follow'd's bum.” And Dryden says of his Spanish Friar, “his great belly walks in state before him, and his gouty legs come limping after it.” Farmer.

Note return to page 93 2&lblank; Thou remember'st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's musick. &lblank;] The first thing observable on these words is, that this action of the mermaid is laid in the same time and place with Cupid's attack upon the vestal. By the vestal every one knows is meant queen Elizabeth. It is very natural and reasonable then to think that the mermaid stands for some eminent personage of her time. And if so, the allegorical covering, in which there is a mixture of satire and panegyric, will lead us to conclude, that this person was one of whom it had been inconvenient for the author to speak openly, either in praise or dispraise. All this agrees with Mary queen of Scots, and with no other. Q. Elizabeth could not bear to hear her commended; and her successor would not forgive her satyrist. But the poet has so well marked out every distinguished circumstance of her life and character in this beautiful allegory, as will leave no room to doubt about his secret meaning. She is called a mermaid, 1. to denote her reign over a kingdom situate in the sea, and 2. her beauty, and intemperate lust: “&lblank; Ut turpiter atrum “Desinat in piscem mulier formosa supernè.” for as Elizabeth for her chastity is called a vestal, this unfortunate lady on a contrary account is called a mermaid. 3. An ancient story may be supposed to be here alluded to. The emperor Julian tells us, Epistle 41. that the Sirens (which, with all the modern poets, are mermaids) contended for precedency with the Muses, who overcoming them took away their wings. The quarrels between Mary and Elizabeth had the same cause, and the same issue. &lblank; on a dolphin's back,] This evidently marks out that distinguishing circumstance of Mary's fortune, her marriage with the dauphin of France, son of Henry II. Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,] This alludes to her great abilities of genius and learning, which rendered her the most accomplished princess of her age. The French writers tell us, that, while she was in that court, she pronounced a Latin oration in the great hall of the Louvre, with so much grace and eloquence, as filled the whole court with admiration. That the rude sea grew civil at her song;] By the rude sea is meant Scotland encircled with the ocean; which rose up in arms against the regent, while she was in France. But her return home presently quieted those disorders: and had not her strange ill conduct afterwards more violently inflamed them, she might have passed her whole life in peace. There is the greater justness and beauty in this image, as the vulgar opinion is, that the mermaid always sings in storms: And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid's musick.] Thus concludes the description, with that remarkable circumstance of this unhappy lady's fate, the destruction she brought upon several of the English nobility, whom she drew in to support her cause. This, in the boldest expression of the sublime, the poet images by certain stars shooting madly from their spheres: By which he meant the earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, who fell in her quarrel; and principally the great duke of Norfolk, whose projected marriage with her was attended with such fatal consequences. Here again the reader may observe a peculiar justness in the imagery. The vulgar opinion being that the mermaid allured men to destruction by her songs. To which opinion Shakespeare alludes in his Comedy of Errors: “O train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, “To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears.” On the whole, it is the noblest and justest allegory that was ever written. The laying it in fairy land, and out of nature, is in the character of the speaker. And on these occasions Shakespeare always excels himself. He is born away by the magic of his enthusiasm, and hurries his reader along with him into these ancient regions of poetry, by that power of verse, which we may well fancy to be like what: “&lblank; Olim Fauni Vatesque canebant. Warburton.”

Note return to page 94 3Cupid all arm'd: &lblank;] Surely, this presents us with a very unclassical image. Where do we read or see, in ancient books, or monuments, Cupid armed more than with his bow and arrow; and with these we for ever see him armed. And these are all the arms he had occasion for in this present action; a more illustrious one than any, his friends, the classicks, ever brought him upon.— The change I make is so small, but the beauty of the thought so great, which this alteration carries with it, that, I think, we are not to hesitate upon it. For what an addition is this to the compliment made upon this virgin queen's celibacy, that it alarmed, the power of love? as if his empire was in danger, when this imperial votress had declared herself for a single life: so powerful would her great example be in the world.—Queen Elizabeth could not but be pleased with our author's address upon this head. Warburton. All armed, does not signify dressed in panoply, but only enforces the word armed, as we might say all booted. I am afraid that the general sense of alarmed, by which it is used for put into fear or care by whatever cause, is later than our authour. Johnson. So, in Greene's Never too Late, 1616: “Or where proud Cupid sate all arm'd with fire.” So, in Lord Surrey's translation of the 4th book of the Æneid: “All utterly I could not seem forsaken.” Again, in K. Richard III: “His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights.” Shakespeare's compliment to queen Elizabeth has no small degree of propriety and elegance to boast of. The same can hardly be said of the following with which the tragedy of Saliman and Perseda, 1599, concludes. Death is the speaker, and vows he will spare “&lblank; none but sacred Cynthia's friend, “Whom Death did fear before her life began: “For holy fates have grav'n it in their tables, “That Death shall die if he attempt her end “Whose life is heav'n's delight, and Cynthia's friend.” If incense was thrown in cart loads on the altar, this propitious deity was not disgusted by the smoke of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 95 4At a fair vestal, throned by the west;] It was no uncommon thing to introduce a compliment to queen Elizabeth in the body of a play. So, again in Tancred and Sigismunda [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 96 for Sigismunda, read Gismunda.

Note return to page 97 5And maidens call it, love-in-idleness.] This is as fine a metamorphosis as any in Ovid: With a much better moral, intimating that irregular love has only power when people are idle, or not well employed. Warburton. I believe the singular beauty of this metamorphosis to have been quite accidental, as the poet is of another opinion, in the Taming the Shrew, act I. sc. iv: “But see, while idly I stood looking on, “I found th' effect of love in idleness; “And now in plainness I confess to thee, “Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, “If I atchieve not this young modest girl.” And Lucentio's was surely a regular and honest passion. It is scarce necessary to mention that love in idleness is a flower. Taylor, the water poet, quibbling on the names of plants, mentions it as follows: “When passions are let loose without a bridle, “Then precious time is turn'd to love in idle.” Steevens. The flower or violet, commonly called pansies, or heart's-ease, is named love in idleness in Warwickshire, and in Lyte's Herbal. There is a reason why Shakespeare says it is, “now purple with love's wound,” because one or two of its petals are of a purple colour. Tollet. It is called in other counties the Three coloured violet, the Herb of Trinity, Three faces in a hood, Cuddle me to you, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 98 6I'll put a girdle round about the earth &c.] This expression occurs in the Bird in a Cage, 1633: Perhaps, it is proverbial: “And when I have put a girdle 'bout the world, “This purchase will reward me.” Again, in Bussy D'Ambois, by Chapman, 1613: “To put a girdle round about the world.” Again, in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “May say he has put a girdle round the world, “And sounded all her quicksands.” Again, in Decker's If this be not a good Play, the Devil is in It, 1612: “&lblank; about the world “My travels make a girdle.” Again, in Shirley's Humourous Courtier, 1640, and many other plays. Again, in Massinger's Maid of Honour: “&lblank; her navies “Putting a girdle round about the world.” Steevens.

Note return to page 99 7&lblank; I am invisible;] I thought proper here to observe, that, as Oberon and Puck his attendant, may be frequently observed to speak, when there is no mention of their entering; they are designed by the poet to be supposed on the stage during the greatest part of the remainder of the play; and to mix, as they please, as spirits, with the other actors; and embroil the plot, by their interposition, without being seen, or heard, but when to their own purpose. Theobald.

Note return to page 100 8The one I'll stay: the other stayeth me.] Thus it has been in all the editions hitherto: but Dr. Thirlby ingeniously saw it must be, as I have corrected in the text. Theobald.

Note return to page 101 9&lblank; and wode, &lblank;] Wood, or mad, wild, raving. Pope. We meet with the word in Chaucer, in the character of the Monke, late edit v. 184: “What, shuld he studie, or make himselven wood?” Spenser also uses it, Æglogue III. March: “The elf was so wanton, and so wode.” “The name Woden,” says Verstegan in his Antiquities, “signifies fierce or furious; and in like sense we still retain it, saying when one is in a great rage, that he is wood, or taketh on, as if he were wood.” So, Stanyhurst, in his Translation of the second book of Virgil's Æneid, 1582, speaking of Cassandra: “Lo ye, the wood virgin, with locks unbroided is haled.” In the third part of the Countess of Pembroke's Ivy church, 1591, is the same quibble on the word: “Daphne goes to the woods and vowes herself to Diana; “Phœbus grows stark wood for love and fancie to Daphne.” Again in the Golden Legend, by Wynkyn de Worde, 1527, p. 293: “And for to shewe the more theyr woodnes, they dedyed this temple to the honour of all theyr goddes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 102 1Your virtue is my privilege: For that, &c.] This line seems to be wrong pointed. I would read—Your virtue is my privilege for that, i. e. for leaving the city, &c. Tyrwhitt. This pointing is undoubtedly right, and I have followed it. Steevens.

Note return to page 103 2&lblank; for that It is not night, when I do see your face, &c.] This passage is paraphrased from two lines of an ancient poet: “&lblank; Tu nocte vel atra “Lumen, et in solis tu mihi turba locis.” Johnson.

Note return to page 104 3Nor doth the wood lack worlds of company;] The same thought occurs in the 2d Part of K. Hen. VI: “A wilderness is populous enough, “So Suffolk had thy heavenly company.” Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0281

Note return to page 105 4Where oxlips &lblank;] The oxlip is the greater cowslip. So, in Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 15: “To sort these flowers of showe, with other that were sweet, “The cowslip then they couch, and th' oxlip for her meet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 106 5Quite over-canopy'd with luscious woodbine,] Thus all the old editions. On the margin of one of my folios an unknown hand was written lush woodbine, which, I think is right. This hand I have since discovered to be Theobald's. Johnson. Shakespeare uses the word lush in The Tempest, act II: “How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green?” Steevens.

Note return to page 107 6&lblank; a roundel, and a fairy song;] A roundel is a dance in a ring. Gray. A roundel, rondill, or roundelay, is used to signify a song beginning or ending with the same sentence, redit in orbem. Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589, has a chapter On the roundel, or sphere; and produces what he calls A general resemblance of the roundel to God, the world, and the queen. Steevens. A roundel; that is, as I suppose, a circular dance. Ben Jonson seems to call the rings which such dances are supposed to make in the grass, rondels. Vol. v. Tale of a Tub, p. 23: “I'll have no rondels, I, in the queen's paths.” Tyrwhitt. So, in The Boke of the Governour by Syr Thomas Elyot, 1537: “In stede of these we have now base daunces, bargenettes, pavyons, turgions, and roundes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 108 7Then, for the third part of a minute, hence:] So the old copies. But the queen sets them work, that is to keep them employed for the remainder of the night; the poet, undoubtedly, intended her to say, Dance your round, and sing your song, and then instantly (before the third part of a minute) begone to your respective duties. Theobald. Dr. Warburton reads; &lblank; for the third part of the midnight. The persons employed are fairies, to whom the third part of a minute might not be a very short time to do such work in. The critick might as well have objected to the epithet tall, which the fairy bestows on the cowslip. But Shakespeare, throughout the play, has preserved the proportion of other things in respect of these tiny beings, compared with whose size, a cowslip might be tall, and to whose powers of execution, a minute might be equivalent to an age. Steevens.

Note return to page 109 8&lblank; with rear-mice] A rere-mouse is a bat. So, in Albertus Wallenstein, 1640: “&lblank; dull “Half-spirited souls, who strive on rere-mice wings.” Again, in Ben Jonson's New Inn: “&lblank; I keep no shades “Nor shelters, I, for either owls or rere-mice.” Again, in Chapman's Translation of the 12th book of the Odyssey: “&lblank; did as close imply “My breast about it as a rere-mouse could.” Steevens.

Note return to page 110 9&lblank; quaint spirits: &lblank;] For this Dr. Warburton reads against all authority: “&lblank; quaint sports &lblank; But Prospero, in The Tempest, applies quaint to Ariel. Johnson. “Our quaint spirits.” Dr. Johnson is right in the word, and Dr. Warburton in the interpretation. A spirit was sometimes used for a sport. In Deckar's play, If it be not good, the Devil is in It, the king of Naples says to the devil Ruffman, disguished in the character of Shalcan: “Now Shalcan, some new spirit? Ruff. A thousand wenches stark-naked to play at leap-frog. Omnes. O rare sight! Farmer.

Note return to page 111 1Hence, away; &c.] This, according to all the editions, is made part of the song; but I think without sufficient reason, as it appears to be spoken after the song is over. In the quarto 1600, it is given to the 2d Fairy; but the other division is better. Steevens.

Note return to page 112 [2] Be it ounce, &lblank;] The ounce is a small tiger, or tiger-cat. Johnson.

Note return to page 113 3O take the sense, sweet, of my innocence; Love takes the meaning, in love's conference.] Here, by some mischance or other, innocence and conference have been jumbled into one another's places, and thereby deprived a very sensible reply of all kind of meaning. Restore each to its right place and the sense will be this;—when she had interpreted his words to an evil meaning, he replies: O take the sense, sweet, of my conference; i. e. judge of my meaning by the drift of my whole speech, and do not pervert the sense of an ambiguous word to a meaning quite foreign to the discourse. Besides, says he: Love takes the meaning, in love's innocence. i. e. The innocence of your love may teach you to discover the innocence of mine. These are the sentiments, which were quite lost in this aukward transposition. Warburton. I am by no means convinced of the necessity of this alteration. Lysander in the language of love professes, that as they have one heart, they shall have one bed; this Hermia thinks rather too much, and intreats him to lye further off. Lysander answers: O take the sense, sweet, of my innocence. understand the meaning of my innocence, or my innocent meaning. Let no suspicion of ill enter thy mind: Love takes the meaning, in love's conference. In the conversation of those who are assured of each other's kindness, not suspicion but love takes the meaning. No malevolent interpretation is to be made, but all is to be received in the sense which love can find, and which love can dictate. Johnson. The latter line is certainly intelligible as Dr. Johnson has explained it; but, I think, it requires a slight alteration to make it connect well with the former. I would read: Love take the meaning in love's conference. That is, Let love take the meaning. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 114 4&lblank; we can make of it:] The folio, instead of we can, reads can you. Steevens.

Note return to page 115 5&lblank; interchained] Thus the quarto; the folio interchanged. Steevens.

Note return to page 116 6Now much beshrew &c.] This word, of which the etymology is not exactly known, implies a sinister wish, and means the same as if she had said “now ill befall my manners, &c.” It is used by Heywood in his Iron Age, 1632: “Beshrew your amorous rhetorick,” Again, “Well, Paris, I beshrew you, with my heart.” Steevens. See Minshew's etymology of it, which seems to be an imprecation or wish of such evil to one, as the venomous biting of the shrew-mouse. Tollet.

Note return to page 117 7Near to this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.] Mr. Theobald and sir T. Hanmer, for the sake of the measure, leave out this lack-love. Steevens.

Note return to page 118 8&lblank; wilt thou darkling leave me?] So, in the Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “&lblank; we'll run away with the torch, and leave them to fight darkling.” The word is likewise used by Milton. Steevens.

Note return to page 119 9&lblank; my grace.] My acceptableness, the favour that I can gain. Johnson.

Note return to page 120 1touching now the point of human skill,] i. e. my senses being now at their utmost height of perfection. So, in K. Henry VIII: “I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 121 2Reason becomes the marshal to my will,] That is, My will now follows reason. Johnson. So, in Macbeth: “Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going.” Steevens.

Note return to page 122 3&lblank; true gentleness;] Gentleness is equivalent to what, in modern language, we should call the spirit of a gentleman. Percy.

Note return to page 123 4&lblank; those they did deceive;] The folio reads—that did deceive. Malone.

Note return to page 124 5And you &lblank;] Instead of you, the elder folio reads yet. Mr. Pope first gave the right word from the quarto 1600. Steevens.

Note return to page 125 6Speak, of all loves; &lblank;] Of all loves is an adjuration more than once used by our author. So Merry Wives, &c. act II. sc. 8: &lblank; to send her your little page, of all loves.” Steevens.

Note return to page 126 7Or death, or you, &c.] The folio 1623, and the quarto 1600, instead of the first or, read either. Steevens.

Note return to page 127 8In the time of Shakespeare, there were many companies of players, sometimes five at the same time, contending for the favour of the publick. Of these some were undoubtedly very unskilful and very poor, and it is probable that the design of this scene was to ridicule their ignorance, and the odd expedients to which they might be driven by the want of proper decorations. Bottom was perhaps the head of a rival house, and is therefore honoured with an ass's head. Johnson.

Note return to page 128 9Enter Quince, &c.] The two quartos 1600, and the folio, read only, Enter the Clowns. Steevens.

Note return to page 129 1By'rlakin, a parlous fear.] By our ladykin, or little lady, as ifakins is a corruption of by my faith. The former is used in Preston's Cambyses: “The clock hath stricken vive ich think by laken.” Again, in Magnificence, an ancient folio interlude, written by Skelton, and printed by Rastell: “By lakin, sir, it hath cost me pence.” Again, “By our lakin, syr, not by my will.” Parlous, a word corrupted from perilous, i. e. dangerous. So Phaer and Twyne translate Virg. Æn. lib. vii 302: “Quid Syrtes, aut Scylla mihi, quid vasta Charybdis “Profuit?” “What good did Scylla me? what could prevail Charybdis wood? “Or Sirtes parlous sands? Steevens.

Note return to page 130 2&lblank; that brake;] Brake anciently signified a thicket or bush. So, in Drayton's poem on Moses and his Miracles: “Where God unto the Hebrew spake “Appearing from the burning brake. Steevens.

Note return to page 131 3So doth thy breath, &lblank;] The old copies concur in reading: So hath thy breath, &lblank; Mr. Pope, I believe, first made the alteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 132 4&lblank; stay thou but here a whit,] In the old editions: &lblank; stay thou but here a while; The verses should be alternately in rhyme: but sweet in the close of the first line, and while in the third, will not do for this purpose. The author, doubtless, gave it: &lblank; stay thou but here a whit; i.e. a little while: for so it signifies, as also any thing of no price or consideration; a trifle: in which sense it is very frequent with our author. Theobald.

Note return to page 133 5&lblank; than e'er play'd here!] I suppose he means in that theatre where the piece was acting. Steevens.

Note return to page 134 6&lblank; juvenal,] i.e. young man. So, Falstaff, “&lblank;the juvenal thy master.” Steevens.

Note return to page 135 7&lblank; cues and all.] A cue, in stage cant, is the last words of the preceding speech, and serves as a hint to him who is to speak next. So Othello: “Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it “Without a prompter.” So, in the Return from Parnassus: “Indeed, master Kempe, you are very famous: but that is as well for works in print, as your part in cue.” Kempe was one of Shakespeare's fellow comedians. Steevens.

Note return to page 136 8Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;] Here are two syllables wanting. Perhaps, it was written: Through bog, through mire, &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 137 8&lblank; to make me afeard.] Afeard is from to fear, by the old form of the language, as an hungered, from to hunger. So adry, for thirsty. Johnson.

Note return to page 138 9O Bottom, thou art chang'd! what do I see on thee?] It is plain 'by Bottom's answer, that Snout mentioned an ass's head. Therefore we should read: Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? An ass's head? Johnson.

Note return to page 139 1The ouzel cock, &lblank;] The ouzel cock is generally understood to be the cock blackbird. Ben Jonson uses the word in The Devil is an Ass, Com. “&lblank; stay till cold weather come, “I'll help thee to an ouzel and a field-fare.” P. Holland, however, in his translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. b. x. ch. 24. represents the ouzle and the blackbird, as different birds. See also Mr. Lever's Museum. Steevens.

Note return to page 140 2The throstle with his note so true,] The throstle is the thrush. So, in the old metrical romance of The Squhr of Low Degre. bl. l. no date: “The pee and the popinjaye, “The thrustele, sayinge both nyght and daye.” Again, in the first book of Gower De Confessione Amantis, 1554: “The throstel with the nightingale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 141 3&lblank; plain-song cuckow, &c.] that is, the cuckoo, who, having no variety of strains, sings in plain song, or in plano cantu, by which expression the uniform modulation or simplicity of the chaunt was anciently distinguished, in opposition to prick-song, or variegated music sung by note. Skelton introduces the birds singing the different parts of the service at the funeral of his favourite sparrow: among the rest is the cuckoo. P. 277. edit. Lond. 1736. “But with a large and a long “To kepe just playne songe “Our chanter shall be your cuckoue.” Warton. “Our life is a plain song with cunning penn'd.” Return from Parnassus. Again, in the prologue to the Fair Maid of the Exchange, 1607: “&lblank; to your fav'ring ear “In lowest plain-song doth herself appear.” Again, in Hans Beer-pot's Invisible Comedy, &c. “The cuckoo sings not worth a groat “Because she never changeth note.” Steevens.

Note return to page 142 4Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape, And thy fair virtue's force (perforce) doth move me, On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.] These lines are in one quarto of 1600, the first folio of 1623, the second of 1632, and the third of 1664, &c. ranged in the following order: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape, And thy fair virtue's force (perforce) doth move me. This reading I have inserted, not that it can suggest any thing better than the order to which the lines have been restored by Mr. Theobald from another quarto, but to shew that some liberty of conjecture must be allowed in the revisal of works so inaccurately printed, and so long neglected. Johnson.

Note return to page 143 5&lblank; gleek,] Joke or scoff. Pope. Gleek was originally a game at cards. The word is often used by our ancient comic writers in the same sense as by our author. So, in Mother Bombie, 1594: “There's gleek for you, let me have my gird.” Again, in Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1598: “The more that I get her, the more she doth gleek me.” Again, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: “Messieur Benedetto galled Peratio with this gleek.” Mr. Lambe observes in his notes on the ancient metrical history of the Battle of Floddon, that in the North to gleek is to deceive, or beguile; and that the reply made by the queen of the fairies, proves this to be the meaning of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 144 6&lblank; Where shall we go?] Perhaps this question should be proposed by the four fairies together. Steevens.

Note return to page 145 7Dewberries,] Dewberries strictly and properly are the fruit of one of the species of wild bramble called the creeping, or the lesser bramble: but as they stand here among the more delicate fruits, they must be understood to mean raspberries, which are also of the bramble kind. Hawkins.

Note return to page 146 8&lblank; the fiery glow-worm's eyes,] I know not how Shakespeare, who commonly derived his knowledge of nature from his own observation, happened to place the glow-worm's light in his eyes, which is only in his tail. Johnson.

Note return to page 147 9&lblank; hail!] Out of the four fairies, only three address themselves to Bottom. If this salutation be given to the second fairy, the repetition of the same word will serve for the other two. Steevens.

Note return to page 148 1I shall desire you of more acquaintance,] This line has been very unnecessarily altered. The same mode of expression occurs in Lusty Juventus, a morality, 1561: “I shall desire you of better acquaintance.” Such phraseology was very common to many of our ancient writers. So, again in the Dutchess of Suffolk, 1631: “Beseech my prince of pardon.” Again, in An Humourous Day's Mirth, 1599: “I do desire you of more acquaintance.” Again, in The Travels of 3 English Brothers, 1607: “I must entreat thee of forbearance, Zariph.” Again, in Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1621: “&lblank; craving you of more acquaintance.” Steevens.

Note return to page 149 2&lblank; mistress Squash your mother,] A squash is an immature peascod. So, in Twelfth-Night, act I. sc. 5: “&lblank; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod.” Steevens.

Note return to page 150 3&lblank; patience,] The Oxford edition reads, I know your parentage well. I believe the correction is right. Johnson. Parentage was not easily corrupted to patience. I fancy, the true word is passions, sufferings. Farmer. By patience is meant, standing still in a mustard pot to be eaten with the beef, on which it was a constant attendant. Collins.

Note return to page 151 4&lblank; my love's tongue &lblank;] The old copies read: &lblank; my lover's tongue &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 152 5&lblank; what night-rule] Night-rule in this place should seem to mean, what frolick of the night, what revelry is going forward? So, in Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1598: “Marry here is good rule!” Again: “&lblank; why how now strife! here is pretty rule!” It appears, from the old song of Robin Goodfellow, in the third volume of Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, that it was the office of this waggish spirit “to viewe the night-sports.” Steevens.

Note return to page 153 6&lblank; patches, &lblank;] Patch was in old language used as a term of opprobry; perhaps with much the same import as we use raggamuffin, or tatterdemalion. Johnson. Puck calls the players, “a crew of patches.” A common opprobrious term, which probably took its rise from Patch, cardinal Wolsey's fool. In the western counties, cross-patch is still used for perverse, ill-natur'd fool. Warton. The name was rather taken from the patch'd or pye coats worn by the fools or jesters of those times. So, in the Tempest: “&lblank; what a py'd Ninny's this?” Again, in Preston's Cambyses: “Hob and Lob, ah ye country patches!” Again, in the Three Ladies of London, 1584: “It is simplicitie, that Patch.” Steevens. I should suppose patch to be merely a corruption of the Italian pazzo, which signifies properly a fool. So, in the Merchant of Venice, act II. sc. v. Shylock says of Launcelot: The patch is kind enough;—after having just called him, that fool of Hagar's offspring. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 154 7&lblank; nowl &lblank;] A head. Saxon. Johnson. So, Chaucer, in The History of Beryn, 2524: “No sothly, quoth the steward, it lieth all in thy noll, “Both wit and wysdom, &c.” Again, in The Three Ladies of London, 1584: “One thumps me on the neck, and another strikes me on the nole.” Steevens.

Note return to page 155 8&lblank; minnock &lblank;] This is the reading of the old quarto, and I believe right. Minnekin, now minx, is a nice trifling girl. Minnock is apparently a word of contempt. Johnson. The folio reads mimmick; perhaps for mimick, a word more familiar than that exhibited by one of the 4tos, for the other reads, minnick. Steevens.

Note return to page 156 9&lblank; sort,] Company. So above: &lblank; “that barren sort;” and in Waller: “A sort of lusty shepherds strive.” Johnson. So, in Chapman's May-Day, 1611: “&lblank; though we never lead any other company than a sort of quart-pots.” Steevens.

Note return to page 157 1And, at our stamp, &lblank;] This seems to be a vicious reading. Fairies are never represented stamping, or of a size that should give force to a stamp, nor could they have distinguished the stamps of Puck from those of their own companions. I read: And at a stump here o'er and o'er one falls. So, Drayton: “A pain he in his head-piece feels, “Against a stubbed tree he reels, “And up went poor hobgoblin's heels;   “Alas, his brain was dizzy. &lblank; “At length upon his feet he gets, “Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets, “And as again he forward sets,   “And through the bushes scrambles, “A stump doth trip him in his pace, “Down fell poor Hob upon his face, “And lamentably tore his case,   “Among the briers and brambles.” Johnson. I adhere to the old reading. The stamp of a fairy might be efficacious though not loud; neither is it necessary to suppose, when supernatural beings are spoken of, that the size of the agent determines the force of the action. That fairies did stamp to some purpose, may be known from the following passage in Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus.—“Vero saltum adeo profundè in terram impresserant, ut locus insigni ardore orbiculariter peresus, non parit arenti redivivum cespite gramen.” Shakespeare's own authority, however, is most decisive. See the conclusion of the first scene of the fourth act: “Come, my queen, take hand with me, “And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.” Steevens.

Note return to page 158 2Some, sleeves; some hats: &lblank;] There is the like image in Drayton of queen Mab and her fairies flying from Hobgoblin: “Some tore a ruff, and some a gown,   “'Gainst one another justling; “They flew about like chaff i' th' wind, “For haste some left their masks behind, “Some could not stay their gloves to find,   “There never was such bustling. Johnson.

Note return to page 159 3&lblank; latch'd] or letch'd, lick'd over, lecher, to lick, French. Hanmer. In the North, it signifies to infect. Steevens.

Note return to page 160 4Being o'er shoes in blood,] An allusion to the proverb, Over shoes, over boots. Johnson.

Note return to page 161 5“Noon-tide with the Antipodes.”] Dr. Warburton would read, i'th' antipodes, which Mr. Edwards ridicules without mercy. The alteration is certainly not necessary, but it is not so unlucky, as he imagined. Shirley has the same expression in his Andromana: “To be a whore is more unknown to her, “Then what is done in the Antipodes.” In for among is frequent in old language. Farmer. In The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “And dwell one month with the Antipodes.” Again, in K. Rich. II: “While we were wandring with the Antipodes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 162 6&lblank; so dead, &lblank;] All the old copies read so dead; in my copy of it, some reader has altered dead to dread. Johnson. Dead seems to be the right word, and our author again uses it 2d Part Hen. IV. act I. sc. iii: “Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, “So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone. Steevens.

Note return to page 163 7&lblank; O brave touch.] Touch in Shakespeare's time was the same with our exploit, or rather stroke. A brave touch, a noble stroke, un grand coup, “Mason was very merry, pleasantly playing both with the shrewd touches of many curst boys, and the small discretion of many lewd schoolmasters.” Ascham. Johnson. A touch anciently signified a trick. In the old black letter story of Howleglas, it is always used in that sense. “&lblank; for at all times he did some mad touch.” Steevens.

Note return to page 164 8&lblank; mispriz'd &lblank;] Mistaken; so below misprision is mistake. Johnson.

Note return to page 165 9Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true:] Sir T. H. reads the line thus: Some true love turn'd false, not a false, turn'd true. Steevens.

Note return to page 166 1Hit with Cupid's archery,] This alludes to what was said before: &lblank; the bolt of Cupid fell, It fell upon a little western flower Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound. Steevens.

Note return to page 167 2&lblank; Taurus' snow,] Taurus is the name of a range of mountains in Asia. Johnson.

Note return to page 168 3This princess of pure white, &lblank;] Thus all the editions to sir T. H.'s. He reads: This pureness of pure white; and Dr. Warburton follows him. The old reading may be justified from a passage in sir Walter Raleigh's Discovery of Guinea, where the pine-apple is called The princess of Fruits. Again, in Wyatt's Poems, “Of beauty princesse chief” Steevens.

Note return to page 169 4&lblank; seal of bliss!] He has in Measure for Measure, the same image: “But my kisses bring again, “Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.” Johnson.

Note return to page 170 5&lblank; join in souls,] This is surely wrong. We may read, Join in scorns, or join in scoffs. Johnson. Join in souls, i. e. join heartily, unite in the same mind. Shakespeare in Henry V. uses an expression not unlike this: “For we will hear, note, and believe in heart;” i. e. heartily believe: and in Measure for Measure, he talks of electing with special soul. In Troilus and Cressida, Ulysses, relating the character of Hector as given him by Æneas, says: “&lblank; with private soul “Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.” And, in All Fools, by Chapman, 1605, is the same expression as that for which I contend: “Happy, in soul, only by winning her.” Again, in a Masque called Luminalia, or the Festival of Light, 1637: “You that are chief in souls, as in your blood.” Again, in Pierce Pennyless his Supplication to the Devil, 1595: “&lblank; whose subversion in soul they have vow'd.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602. B. xii. ch. 75. “Could all, in soul, of very God say as an Ethnick said “To one that preached Hercules?” &lblank; Sir T. Hanmer would read—in flouts; Dr. Warburton, insolents. Steevens. I rather believe the line should be read thus: But you must join, ill souls, to mock me too? Ill is often used for bad, wicked. So, in the Sea Voyage of Beaumont and Fletcher, act IV. sc. i: “They did begin to quarrel like ill men;” which I cite the rather, because ill had there also been changed into in, by an error of the press, which Mr. Sympson has corrected from the edition 1647. Tyrwhitt. This is a very reasonable conjecture, though I think it hardly right. Johnson. We meet with this phrase in an old poem by Robert Dabourne: “&lblank; Men shift their fashions &lblank; “They are in souls the same.” &lblank; Farmer.

Note return to page 171 6A trim exploit, a manly enterprize, &c.] This is written much in the manner and spirit of Juno's reproach to Venus in the 4th book of the Æneid: “Egregiam vero laudem et spolia ampla refertis, “Tuque puerque tuus: magnum et memorabile nomen, “Una dolo divûm si fœmina victa duorum est.” Steevens.

Note return to page 172 7&lblank; none, of nobler sort,] The folio reads, noble sort. Sort is here used for degree or quality. So, in the old ballad of Jane Shore: “Long time I lived in the court, “With lords and ladies of great sort.” Malone.

Note return to page 173 8Extort a poor soul's patience,] Harrass, torment. Johnson.

Note return to page 174 9My heart to her.] We should read: My heart with her but as guest-wise sojourn'd. So, Prior: “No matter what beauties I saw in my way, “They were but my visits, but thou art my home.” Johnson.

Note return to page 175 1&lblank; all yon fiery O's] I would willingly believe that the poet wrote fiery orbs. Johnson. Shakespeare uses O for a circle. So, in the prologue to Hen. V. “&lblank; can we crowd “Within this little O, the very casques “That did affright the air at Agincourt?” Again, in the Partheneia Sacra, 1633: “&lblank; the purple canopy of the earth, powder'd over and beset with silver o'es, or rather an azure vault, &c.” Steevens. D'Ewes's Journal of Queen Elizabeth's Parliaments, p. 650, mentions a patent to make spangles and oes of gold; and I think haberdashers call small curtain rings, O's, as being circular. Tollet.

Note return to page 176 2&lblank; in spite of me.] I read, in spite to me. Johnson.

Note return to page 177 3&lblank; artificial gods,] Artificial is ingenious, artful. Steevens.

Note return to page 178 4Have with our needles, &c.] It was probably written by Shakespeare neelds, (a common contraction in the inland counties at this day) otherwise the verse will be inharmonious. See Gammer Gurton's Needle. Again, in sir Arthur Gorges' translation of Lucan, 1614: “Thus Cato spake, whose feeling words “Like pricking neelds, or points of swords, &c.” Again, in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “Deep clerks she dumbs, and with her neele composes “Nature's own shape. &lblank; Again, in Stanyhurst's Virgil, 1582: “&lblank; on neeld-wrought carpets.” The same ideas occur in Pericles Prince of Tyre, 1609: “&lblank; she “Would ever with Marina be: “Be't when they weav'd the sleded silk, “With fingers long, small, white as milk, “Or when she would with sharp neeld wound “The cambrick, &c.” In the age of Shakespeare many contractions were used. Ben Jonson has wher for whether in the prologue to his Sad Shepherd; and in the earl of Sterline's Darius is sport for support, and twards for towards. Steevens.

Note return to page 179 5Two of the first life, coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest:] The true correction of this passage I owe to the friendship and communication of the ingenious Martin Folkes, esq.—Two of the first, second, &c. are terms peculiar in heraldry, to distinguish the different quarterings of coats. Theobald.

Note return to page 180 6Ay, do persever, &lblank;] Persever is the reading of all the old copies. The word was formerly so pronounced. Thus our author in All's Well that End's Well, act IV. sc. ii: “&lblank; say thou art mine, and ever “My love, as it begins, so shall persever.” So, in Glapthorne's Argalus and Parthenia, 1639: “&lblank; for ever “May they in love and union still persever.” Steevens.

Note return to page 181 7&lblank; such an argument.] Such a subject of light merriment. Johnson. So, in the first part of King Henry IV. act II. sc. ii. “&lblank; it would be argument for a week, &c. Steevens. So Isabella, speaking to Lucio in Measure for Measure:— “Make me not, sir, your story.” Steevens.

Note return to page 182 8&lblank; than her weak prayers.] The old copies read: &lblank; than her weak praise. Steevens.

Note return to page 183 9&lblank; you canker-blossom!] The canker-blossom is not in this place the blossom of the canker or wild rose, which our author alludes to in Much Ado about Nothing, act I. sc. vi: “I had rather be a canker in a hedge “Than a rose in his grace.” but a worm that preys on the leaves or buds of flowers, always beginning in the middle. So, in this play, act II. sc. iii: “Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 184 1“&lblank; how fond I am.] Fond, i. e. foolish; often used in that sense by our author:—Merchant of Venice, act II. sc. iv: “&lblank; I do wonder “Thou naughty goaler, that thou art so fond “To come abroad with him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 185 2You minimus, &lblank;] Shakespeare might have given it: “You Minim, you &lblank; i. e. You Diminutive of the creation, you reptile, as in Milton. Theobald.

Note return to page 186 3&lblank; of hind'ring knot-grass made;] It appears that knot-grass was anciently supposed to prevent the growth of any animal or child. Beaumont and Fletcher mention this property of it in The Knight of the Burning Pestle: “Should they put him into a strait pair of gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it.” Again, in The Coxcomb: “We want a boy extremely for this function, kept under, for a year, with milk and knot-grass.” Daisy-roots were supposed to have the same effect. That prince of verbose and pedantic coxcombs, Richard Tomlinson, apothecary, in his translation of Renodæus his Dispensatory, 1657, informs as [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 187 for, informs as, read, informs us.

Note return to page 188 4Thou shalt aby it.] To aby is to pay dear for, to suffer. So, in the Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601: “Had I a sword and buckler here, “You should aby these questions.” The word has occurred before in this play. Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “&lblank; but thou shalt dear aby this blow.” Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, B. ii. c. 8: “His life for due revenge should dear abie.” Again, in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, B. ii. st. 3: “So robb'd to be I never can abide, “But they that do it, dearly shall abye.”

Note return to page 189 5&lblank; thy knaveries willingly.] The quarto in 1600 reads wilfully. Steevens.

Note return to page 190 6&lblank; so sort,] So happen in the issue. Johnson. So, in Monsieur D'Olive, 1606: “&lblank; never look to have any action sort to your honour.”

Note return to page 191 7virtuous property,] Salutiferous. So he calls, in the Tempest, poisonous dew, wicked dew. Johnson.

Note return to page 192 8&lblank; damned spirits all, That in cross-ways and floods have burial,] i. e. The ghosts of self-murderers, who are buried in cross-roads: and of those who being drowned, were condemned (according to the opinion of the ancients) to wander for a hundred years, as the rites of sepulture had never been regularly bestowed on their bodies. That the waters were sometimes the place of residence for damned spirits, we learn from the ancient bl. l. Romance of Syr Eglamoure of Artoys, no date: “Let some preest a gospel saye “For doute of fendes in the flode.” Steevens.

Note return to page 193 9I with the morning's love have oft made sport;] Thus all the old copies, and I think, rightly. Tithonus was the husband of Aurora, and Tithonus was no young deity. So, in The Fawne, by J. Marston, 1606: “Aurora yet keeps chaste old Tithon's bed; “Yet blushes at it when she rises.” Again, in Aurora, a collection of sonnets, by lord Sterline, 1604: “And why should Tithon thus, whose day grows late, “Enjoy the morning's love.” Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. iii. c. 3: “As faire Aurora rising hastily, “Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye “All night in old Tithonus' frozen bed.” Again, in the Faithful Shepherdess of B. and Fletcher: “&lblank; O, lend me all thy red, “Thou shame-fac'd morning, when from Tithon's bed “Thou risest ever-maiden!” How such a waggish spirit as the King of the Fairies might make sport with an antiquated lover, or his mistress in his absence, may be easily understood. Dr. Johnson reads with all the modern editors, “I with the morning light, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 194 1Speak in some bush: where dost thou hide thy head?] This passage is printed thus in all the editions. The sense I think would be clearer if the pointing were regulated thus: Speak. In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? Steevens.

Note return to page 195 2&lblank; buy this dear,] i. e. thou shalt dearly pay for this. Though this is sense, and may well enough stand, yet the poet perhaps wrote thou shalt 'by it dear. So, in another place, thou shalt aby it. So, Milton, “How dearly I abide that boast so vain.” Johnson.

Note return to page 196 3When thou wak'st Thou tak'st, &c.] As the second line is deficient both in metre and construction, it might perhaps be allowable to supply it thus. When thou wak'st, see thou tak'st, True delight, &c. Tyrwhitt. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0296

Note return to page 197 4Jack shall have Jill; &c.] These three last lines are to be found among Heywood's Epigrams on three hundred Proverbs. Steevens.

Note return to page 198 5I see no reason why the fourth act should begin here, when there seems no interruption of the action. In the old quartos of 1600, there is no division of acts, which seems to have been afterwards arbitrarily made in the first folio, and may therefore be altered at pleasure. Johnson.

Note return to page 199 6&lblank; do coy] To coy is to sooth, to stroke. So, in the Arraignment of Paris, 1584: “Plays with Amyntas' lusty boy, and coys him in the dales.” Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602. Book vi. ch. 30: “And whilst she coys his sooty cheeks, or curls his sweaty top.” Again, in sir A. Gorge's translation of Lucan, b. ix: “&lblank; his sports to prove, “Coying that pow'rful queen of love.” Steevens.

Note return to page 200 7&lblank; neif,] i. e. fist. Henry IV. act II. sc. x: “Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif.” Gray.

Note return to page 201 8&lblank; cavalero Cobweb] Without doubt it should be Cavalero Pease-blossom; as for cavalero Cobweb, he had just been dispatched upon a perilous adventure. Gray.

Note return to page 202 9&lblank; the tongs &lblank;] The old rustic music of the tongs and key. The folio has this stage direction.—“Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 203 1In the former editions—and be always away.] What! was she giving her attendants an everlasting dismission? No such thing; they were to be still upon duty. I am convinced the poet meant: &lblank; and be all ways away. i. e. disperse yourselves, and scout out severally, in your watch, that danger approach us from no quarter. Theobald. Mr. Upton reads: And be away—away. Johnson. Mr. Heath would read:—and be always i' th' way. Steevens.

Note return to page 204 2So doth the woodbine the sweet honey-suckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.] What does the woodbine entwist? The honey-suckle. But the woodbine and honey-suckle were, till now, but two names for one and the same plant. Florio, in his Italian Dictionary, interprets Madre Selva by woodbine or honnie-suckle. We must therefore find a support for the woodbine as well as for the ivy. Which is done by reading the lines thus: So doth the woodbine, the sweet honey-suckle, Gently entwist the maple; ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. The corruption might happen by the first blunderer dropping the p in writing the word maple, which word thence became male. A following transcriber, for the sake of a little sense and measure, thought fit to change this male into female; and then tacked it as an epithet to ivy. Warburton. Mr. Upton reads: So doth the woodrine the sweet honey-suckle, for bark of the wood. Shakespeare perhaps only meant, so the leaves involve the flower, using woodbine for the plant and honey-suckle for the flower; or perhaps Shakespeare made a blunder. Johnson. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0298 The thought is Chaucer's. See his Troilus and Cresseide, v. 1236, lib. iii: “And as about a tre with many a twist “Bitrent and writhin is the swete woodbinde, “Gan eche of hem in armis other winde.” What Shakespeare seems to mean, is this—So the woodbine, i. e. the sweet honey-suckle, doth gently entwist the barky fingers of the elm, and so does the female ivy enring the same fingers. It is not unfrequent in the poets, as well as other writers, to explain one word by another which is better known. The reason why Shakespeare thought woodbine wanted illustration, perhaps is this. In some counties, by woodbine or woodbind would have been generally understood the ivy, which he had occasion to mention in the very next line. In the following instance from Old Fortunatus, 1600, woodbind is used for ivy: “And, as the running wood-bind, spread her arms “To choak thy with'ring boughs in her embrace.” And Barrett in his Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, enforces the same distinction that Shakespeare thought it necessary to make: “Woodbin that beareth the honey-suckle.” Steevens. This passage has given rise to various conjectures. It is certain, that the wood-bine, and the honey-suckle were sometimes considered as different plants. In one of Taylor's poems, we have “The woodbine, primrose, and the cowslip fine, “The honisuckle, and the daffadill.” But I think Mr. Steevens's interpretation the true one. The old writers did not always carry the auxiliary verb forward, as the late editor seems to suppose by his alteration of enrings to enring. So bishop Lowth, in his excellent Introduction to Grammar, p. 126, has without reason corrected a similar passage in our translation of St. Matthew. Farmer. Were any change necessary, I should not scruple to read the weedbind, i. e. smilax: a plant that twists round every other that grows in its way. Steevens. In lord Bacon's Nat. Hist. Experiment 496, it is observed that there are two kinds of “honeysuckles, both the woodbine and the trefoil.” i. e. the first is a plant that winds about trees, and the other is a three-leaved grass. Perhaps these are meant in Mr. Farmer's quotation. The distinction, however, may serve to shew why Shakespeare and other authors frequently added woodbine to honey-suckle, when they mean the plant and not the grass. Tollet.

Note return to page 205 3&lblank; the female ivy] Shakespeare call it female ivy, because it always requires some support, which is poetically called its husband. So Milton: “&lblank; led the vine “To wed her elm: she spous'd, about him twines “Her marriageable arms &lblank;” “Ulmo conjuncta marito.” Catull.   “Platanusque cœlebs “Evincet ulmos. Hor. Steevens.

Note return to page 206 5&lblank; sweet savours,] The first edition reads favours. Steevens.

Note return to page 207 6Dian's bud, or Cupid's flower] Thus all the editions. The ingenious Dr. Thirlby gave me the correction, which I have inserted in the text. Theobald.

Note return to page 208 7Titania, musick call, and strike more dead Than common sleep. Of all these fine the sense.] This most certainly is both corrupt in the text and pointing. My emendation needs no justification. The five, that lay asleep on the stage were Demetrius, Lysander, Hermia, Helena, and Bottom. —Dr. Thirlby likewise communicated this very correction. Theobald.

Note return to page 209 8Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair posterity;] We should read: &lblank; to all far posterity. i. e. to the remotest posterity. Warburton.

Note return to page 210 9Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade.] Mr. Theobald says, why sad? Fairies are pleased to follow night. He will have it fade; and so, to mend the rhime, spoils both the sense and grammar. But he mistakes the meaning of sad; it signifies only grave, sober; and is opposed to their dances and revels, which were now ended at the singing of the morning lark. —So Winter's Tale, act IV: “My father and the gentlemen are in sad talk.” For grave or serious. Warburton. Again, in the Phœnix, by Middleton, 1607: “Which of his wild nobility it should be, “For none of his sad council has a voice in't.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0299

Note return to page 211 1Our observation is perform'd:] The honours due to the morning of May. I know not why Shakespeare calls this play a Midsummer Night's Dream, when he so carefully informs us that it happened on the night preceding May day. Johnson. The title of this play seems no more intended to denote the precise time of the action, than that of the Winter's Tale; which we find, was at the season of sheep-shearing. Farmer.

Note return to page 212 2&lblank; they bay'd the bear] Thus all the old copies. And thus in Chaucer's Knightes Tale, v. 2020. late edit: “The hunte ystrangled with the wilde beres.” Steevens. Holinshed, with whose histories our poet was well acquainted, says “the beare is a beast commonlie hunted in the East countries.” See vol. i. p. 206; and in p. 226, he says, “Alexander at vacant times hunted the tiger, the pard, the bore, and the beare.” Pliny, Plutarch, &c. mention bear-hunting. Turberville, in his Book of Hunting, has two chapters on hunting the bear. As the persons mentioned by the poet are foreigners of the heroic strain, he might perhaps think it nobler sport for them to hunt the bear than the boar. Tollet.

Note return to page 213 3&lblank; such gallant chiding;] Chiding in this instance means only sound. So, in Hen. VIII: “As doth a rock against the chiding flood.” Again, in Humour out of Breath, Com. by John Day, 1608: “&lblank; I take great pride “To hear soft music, and thy shrill voice chide.” Again, in the 22d chapter of Drayton's Polyolbion: “&lblank; drums and trumpets chide. &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 214 4So flew'd,] i. e. so mouthed. Flews are the large chaps of a deep-mouthed hound. Hanmer. Flew'd] Sir T. Hanmer justly remarks, that flews are the large chaps of a deep-mouth'd hound. Arthur Golding uses this word in his translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, finished 1567, a book with which Shakespeare appears to have been well acquainted. The poet is describing Actæon's hounds, b. iii. p. 33. b. 1603. Two of them, like our author's, were of Spartan kind: bred from a Spartan bitch and a Cretan dog: “&lblank; with other twaine, that had a sire of Crete, “And dam of Spart: th' one of them called Jollyboy, a grete “And large-flew'd hound.” Shakespeare mentions Cretan hounds (with Spartan) afterwards in this speech of Theseus. And Ovid's translator, Golding, in the same description, has them both in one verse, ibid. p. 33. a. “This latter was a hound of Crete, the other was of Spart.” Warton. So, in Heywood's Brazen Age, 1613: “&lblank; the fierce Thessalian hounds “With their flag ears, ready to sweep the dew “From their moist breasts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 215 5So sanded,] So marked with small spots. Johnson. Sandy'd means of a sandy colour, which is one of the true denotements of a blood-hound. Steevens.

Note return to page 216 6&lblank; saint Valentine is past;] Alluding to the old saying, that birds begin to couple on St. Valentine's day. Steevens.

Note return to page 217 7Fair Helena in fancy following me.] Fancy is here taken for love or affection, and is opposed to fury, as before. Sighs and tears poor Fancy's followers. Some now call that which a man takes particular delight in, his fancy. Flower-fancier, for a florist, and bird-fancier, for a lover and feeder of birds, are colloquial words. Johnson. So, in the Ladies' Privilege, 1640: “For one whose soul, free as the air he breathes, “Can yield a mutual fancy to your flame.” Again, in Hymen's Triumph, a Masque by Daniel, 1628: “With all persuasions sought to win her mind “To fancy him.” Again: “Do not enforce me to accept a man “I cannot fancy.” Again, in the Maid's Metamorphosis by Lylly, 1600: “The more the son became with fancy blind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 218 8&lblank; an idle gawd,] See a note by Mr. Lamb on this word. Act I. sc. i. Steevens.

Note return to page 219 9And I have found Demetrius like a jewel Mine own, and not mine own.] Hermia had observed that things appeared double to her. Helena replies, so methinks; and then subjoins, that Demetrius was like a jewel, her own and not her own. He is here, then, compared to something which had the property of appearing to be one thing when it was another. Not the property sure of a jewel: or, if you will, of none but a false one. We should read: And I have found Demetrius like a gemell, Mine own, and not mine own. From Gemellus, a twin. For Demetrius had that night acted two such different parts, that she could hardly think them both played by one and the same Demetrius; but that there were twin Demetriuses like the two Sofias in the farce.—From Gemellus comes the French. Gemeau or Jumeau, and in the feminine, Gemelle or Jumelle: So in Macon's translation of the Decameron of Boccace— “Il avoit trois filles plus âgées que les masles, des quelles les deux qui estoient, jumelles avoient quinze ans.” Quatrieme Jour. Nov. 3. Warburton. This emendation is ingenious enough to deserve to be true. Johnson. Dr. Warburton has been accused of coining the word, gemell: but Drayton has it in the preface to his Baron's Wars. “The quadrin doth never double; or to use a word of heraldrie, never bringeth forth gemels.” Farmer. Again: “&lblank; unless they had been all gemels, or couplets.” Steevens.

Note return to page 220 1&lblank; Are you sure That we are awake?] This passage, hitherto omitted, I have restored from the quartos 1600. Steevens.

Note return to page 221 2man is but a patch'd fool,] The quarto, 1600, gives the passage thus; “But man is but patch'd a fool, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 222 3Patch'd fool,] That is, a fool in a particolour'd coat. Johnson.

Note return to page 223 4I will sing, &c.] In former editions: Peradventure to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. At whose death? In Bottom's speech there is no mention of any she-creature, to whom this relative can be coupled. I make not the least scruple but Bottom, for the sake of a jest, and to render his voluntary, as we may call it, the more gracious and extraordinary, said;—I shall sing it after death. He, as Pyramus, is kill'd upon the scene; and so might promise to rise again at the conclusion of the interlude, and give the duke his dream by way of song.—The source of the corruption of the text is very obvious. The f in after being sunk by the vulgar pronunciation, the copyist might write it from the sound,—a'ter: which the wise editors not understanding, concluded, two words were erroneously got together; so, splitting them, and clapping in an h, produced the present reading—at her. Theobald.

Note return to page 224 5&lblank; at her death.] He means the death of Thisbe, which is what his head is at present full of. Steevens.

Note return to page 225 6A thing of nought.] This Mr. Theobald changes with great pomp to a thing of naught; i. e. a good for nothing thing. Johnson. A thing of nought is the true reading. So in Hamlet: “Ham. The king is a thing &lblank; “Guil. A thing my lord? “Ham. Of nothing.” See the note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 226 7made men.] In the same sense as in the Tempest, any monster in England makes a man. Johnson. So, in Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, 1631: “Oh joyful day! now am I a made man for ever.” Steevens.

Note return to page 227 8&lblank; sixpence a day, in Pyramus, or nothing.] Shakespeare has already ridiculed the title-page of Cambyses by Tho. Preston; and here he seems to aim a personal stroke at him. Preston acted a part in Thomas Nash's play of Dido Queen of Carthage, before queen Elizabeth at Cambridge, in 1594; and the queen was so well pleased, that she bestowed on him a pension of twenty pounds a year, which is little more than a shilling a day. Our poet, in the first part of Henry IV. has made Falstaff declare, that when he presented the prince's father, he would do it, “In King Cambyses' vein.” Steevens.

Note return to page 228 9These beautiful lines are in all the old editions thrown out of metre. They are very well restored by the later editors. Johnson.

Note return to page 229 1Are of imagination all compact:] i. e. made up of mere imagination. So, in As you Like It: “If he, compact of jars, grow musical.” Steevens.

Note return to page 230 2That is the madman: the lover, all as frantick,] Such is the reading of all the old copies; instead of which, the modern editors have given us: “The madman: while the lover all as frantick.” Steevens.

Note return to page 231 3Constancy;] Consistency, stability, certainty. Johnson.

Note return to page 232 4Call Philostrate.] In the folio, 1623, it is, Call Egeus, and all the speeches afterwards spoken by Philostrate, are there given to that character. But the modern editions, from the quarto 1600, have rightly given them to Philostrate, who appears in the first scene as master of the revels to Theseus, and is there sent out on a similar kind of errand. In the Knight's Tale of Chaucer, Arcite, under the name of Philostrate, is squire of the chamber to Theseus. Steevens.

Note return to page 233 5Say what abridgment, &c.] By abridgment our author means a dramatick performance, which crowds the events of years into a few hours. So, in Hamlet, act II. sc. vii. he calls the players “abridgments, abstracts, and brief chronicles of the time.” Again, in K. Henry V. “Then brook abridgement; and your eyes advance “After your thoughts &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 234 6&lblank; a brief,] i. e. a short account or enumeration. So, in Gascoigne's Dulce Bellum Inexpertis: “She sent a brief unto me by her mayd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 235 7One of the quartos has ripe, the other old editions, rife. Johnson. Rife is a word used both by Sidney and Spencer. It means abounding, but it is now almost obsolete. Again, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “&lblank; you shall find the theaters of the one, the abuses of the other, to be rife among us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 236 8The. reads] This is printed as Mr. Theobald gave it from both the old quartos. In the first folio, and all the following editions, Lysander reads the catalogue, and Theseus makes the remarks. Johnson.

Note return to page 237 9The thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of learning, &c.] I do not know whether it has been before observed, that Shakespeare here, perhaps, alluded to Spencer's poem, entitled The Tears of the Muses, on the neglect and contempt of learning. This piece first appeared in quarto, with others 1591. The oldest edition of this play now known is dated 1600. If Spenser's poem be here intended, may we not presume that there is some earlier edition of this? But however, if the allusion be allowed, at least it seems to bring the play below 1591. Warton. This pretented title of a dramatic performance might be designed as a covert stroke of satire on those who had permitted Spenser to die through absolute want of bread in Dublin, in the year 1598:&lblank; late deceas'd in beggary, seems to refer to this circumstance. Steevens.

Note return to page 238 1keen and critical;] Critical here means criticizing, censuring. So, in Othello: “O, I am nothing if not critical.” Steevens.

Note return to page 239 2Merry and tragical, &lblank;] Our poet is still harping on Cambyses. Steevens.

Note return to page 240 3Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief? That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow.] The nonsense of the last line should be corrected thus: That is, hot ice, a wondrous strange show. Warburton. Mr. Upton reads, not improbably: And wondrous strange black snow. Johnson. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads wondrous scorching snow. Mr. Pope omits the line entirely. I think the passage needs no change, on account of the versification; for wonderous is as often used as three, as it is as two syllables. The meaning of the line is— “That is, hot ice and snow of as strange a quality.” There is an ancient pamphlet entitled, “Tarlton's Devise upon this unlooked for grete snowe.” And perhaps the passage before us may contain some allusion to it. This work is entered on the books of the Stationers' Company; as also, “A ballat of a Northerne Man's Reporte of the wonderful greate snowe in the Southerne parts, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 241 4&lblank; unbreath'd memories] That is, unexercised, unpractised memories. Steevens.

Note return to page 242 5Unless you can find sport in their intents] Thus all the copies. But as I know not what it is to stretch and con an intent, I suspect a line to be lost. Johnson. To intend and to attend were anciently synonymous. Of this use several instances are given in a note on the third scene of the first act of Othello. Intents therefore may be put for the object of their attention. We still say a person is intent on his business. Steevens.

Note return to page 243 6Our sport shall be, &c.] Voltaire says something like this of Louis XIV. who took a pleasure in seeing his courtiers in confusion when they spoke to him. Steevens.

Note return to page 244 7And what poor duty cannot do, Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.] The sense of this passage, as it now stands, if it has any sense, is this: What the inability of duty cannot perform, regardful generosity receives as an act of ability, though not of merit. The contrary is rather true: What dutifulness tries to perform without ability, regardful generosity receives as having the merit, though not the power, of complete performance. We should therefore read: And what poor duty cannot do, Noble respect takes not in might, but merit. Johnson. In might, is perhaps an eliptical expression for what might have been. Steevens.

Note return to page 245 8&lblank; addrest.] That is, ready. So, in K. Hen. V: “To-morrow for our march we are addrest.” Steevens.

Note return to page 246 9[Flourish of trumpets.] It appears from the Guls Hornbook, by Deckar, 1609, that the prologue was anciently usher'd in by trumpets: “Present not yourselfe on the stage (especially at a new play) untill the quaking prologue hath (by rubbing) got cullor into his cheekes, and is ready to give the trumpets their cue that hees upon point to enter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 247 1&lblank; on a recorder;] A kind of flute. Shakespeare introduces it in Hamlet; and Milton says: “To the sound of soft recorders.” This instrument is mentioned in many of the old plays. Steevens.

Note return to page 248 2&lblank; but not in government.] That is, not regularly, according to the tune. Steevens.

Note return to page 249 3In this place the folio, 1623, exhibits the following prompter's direction. Tawyer with a trumpet before them. Steevens.

Note return to page 250 4To meet at Ninus' tomb, &c.] So, in Chaucer's Legend of Thisbe of Babylon: “Thei settin markes their metingis should be, “There king Ninus was graven undir a tre.” Again: “And as she ran her wimple she let fall, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 251 5&lblank; which Lion hight by name,] As all the other parts of this speech are in alternate rhyme, excepting that it closes with a couplet; and as no rhyme is left to name, we must conclude, either a verse is slipt out, which cannot now be retriev'd; or, by a transposition of the words, as I have placed them, the poet intended a triplet. Theobald.

Note return to page 252 6&lblank; her mantle she did fall;] Thus all the old copies. The modern editions read:—“she let fall,” unnecessarily. To fall in this instance is a verb active. So, in the Tempest, act II. sc. i: “And when I rear my hand, do you the like, “To fall it on Gonzalo.” Steevens.

Note return to page 253 7Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,] Mr. Upton rightly observes, that Shakespeare in this line ridicules the affectation of beginning many words with the same letter. He might have remarked the same of The raging rocks And shivering shocks. Gascoigne, contemporary with our poet, remarks and blames the same affectation. Johnson. This alliteration seems to have reached the height of its fashion in the reign of Hen. VIII. The following stanza is quoted from a poem On the Fall and evil Success of Rebellion, written in 1537, by Wilfride Holme. “Loe, leprous lurdeins, lubricke in loquacitie, “Vah, vaporous villeins, with venim vulnerate, “Proh, prating parenticides, plexious to pinnositie, “Fie, frantike, fabulators, furibund, and fatuate, “Out, oblatrant, oblict, obstacle, and obcecate. “Ah addict algoes, in acerbitie acclamant, “Magnall in mischief, malicious to mugilate, “Repriving your Roy so renowned and radiant.” In Tusser's Husbandry, p. 104, there is a poem of which every word begins with a T; and in the old play entitled, The Historie of the Two valiant Knights, Syr Clyomon Knight of the Golden Sheeld, Sonne to the King of Denmark; and Clamydes the White Knight, Son to the King of Suavia, 1599, is another remarkable instance of alliteration: “Bringing my barke to Denmarke here, to bide the bitter broyle “And beating blowes of billows high &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 254 8It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard discourse, my lord.] Demetrius is represented as a punster: I believe the passage should be read: This is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard in discourse. Alluding to the many stupid partitions in the argumentative writings of the time. Shakespeare himself, as well as his contemporaries, uses discourse for reasoning: and he here avails himself of the double sense; as he had done before in the word, partition. Farmer.

Note return to page 255 9O wicked wall, &c.] So, in Chaucer's Legend of Thisbe: “Thus would thei saine, alas! thou wicked wal, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 256 1&lblank; knit up in thee.] Thus the folio. The quarto reads: knit now again. Steevens.

Note return to page 257 2And like Limander, &c.] Limander and Helen, are spoken by the blundering player, for Leander and Hero. Shafalus and Procrus, for Cephalus and Procris. Johnson. On the books of the Stationers' Company, Oct. 22, 1593, is enter'd, “A booke entitled, Procris & Cephalus, divided into four parts.” It has been already observed, that book was once the technical term for play. Shakespeare therefore might design to ridicule some dramatic piece on this subject. Steevens.

Note return to page 258 3Thes. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.] Shakespeare could never write this nonsense: we should read—to rear without warning. i. e. It is no wonder that walls should be suddenly down when they were as suddenly up; &lblank; rear'd without warning. Warburton. The old reading is certainly the true one; and alludes to the proverb, “Walls have ears.” A wall between almost any two neighbours would soon be down, were it to exercise this faculty without previous warning. Farmer.

Note return to page 259 4Here come two noble beasts in a man and a lion.] I don't think the jest here is either compleat, or right. It is differently pointed in several of the old copies, which, I suspect, may lead us to the true reading, viz. Here come two noble beasts—in a man and a lion. immediately upon Theseus saying this, Enter Lion and Moonshine. It seems very probable therefore, that our author wrote, &lblank; in a moon and a lion. the one having a crescent and a lanthorn before him, and representing the man in the moon; the other in a lion's hide. Theobald. Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. I cannot help supposing that we should have it, a moon-calf. The old copies read a man: possibly man was the marginal interpretation of mooncalf; and being more intelligible, got into the text. The man in the moon was no new character on the stage, and is here introduced in ridicule of such exhibitions. Ben Jonson in one of his masques, call'd, News from the New World in the Moon, makes his Factor doubt of the person who brings the intelligence. “I must see his dog at his girdle, and the bush of thorns at his back, ere I believe it.”—“Those, replies one of the heralds, are stale ensigns o' the stage.” Farmer.

Note return to page 260 5Then know, that I one Snug the joiner am;] Thus the folio, 1623, which likewise reads, a lion fell. This not agreeing with the remainder of the speech, the modern editors have altered it into no lion fell. Had they consulted the quarto, 1600, it would have set them right: Then know that I, as Snug the joyner, am A lion fell, nor else no lyons dam. Steevens.

Note return to page 261 6&lblank; in snuff.] An equivocation. Snuff signifies both the cinder of a candle, and hasty anger. Johnson.

Note return to page 262 7&lblank; glittering streams,] The old copies read beams. Steevens.

Note return to page 263 8&lblank; cut thread and thrum;] Thrum is the end or extremity of a weaver's warp; it is popularly used for very coarse yarn. The maids now call a mop of yarn a thrum mop. Warner. So, in Hannibal and Scipio, 1637: “&lblank; no rough pelt of thrums, “To fight with weather.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the 16th Iliad: “And tapestries all golden fring'd, and curl'd with thrumbs behind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 264 9&lblank; and quell!] To quell is to murther, to destroy. So, in the 12th pageant of the Lusus Coventriæ, commonly called the Corpus Christi Play. MS. Cott. Vesp. D. viii: “That he the lawe may here do, “With stonys her to quell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 265 1&lblank; and prove an ass.] The character of Theseus throughout this play is more exalted in its humanity, than its greatness. Though some sensible observations on life, and animated descriptions fall from him, as it is said of Jago, you shall taste him more as a soldier than as a wit, which is a distinction he is here striving to deserve, though with little success; as in support of his pretensions he never rises higher than a pun, and frequently sinks as low as a quibble. Steevens.

Note return to page 266 2The first quarto makes this speech a little longer, but not better. Johnson. The passage omitted is,—“He for a man, God warn'd us; she for a woman, God bless us.” Steevens.

Note return to page 267 3And thus she means &lblank;] Thus all the editions have it. It should be, thus she moans, i. e. laments over the dead Pyramus. Theobald.

Note return to page 268 4Those lilly lips, this cherry nose,] All Thisby's lamentation, till now, runs in regular rhime and metre. But both, by some accident, are in this single instance interrupted. I suspect the poet wrote: These lilly brows, This cherry nose. Now black brows being a beauty, lilly brows are as ridiculous as a cherry nose, green eyes, or cowslip cheeks. Theobald. Lilly lips are changed to lilly brows for the sake of the rhyme, but this cannot be right: Thisbe has before celebrated her Pyramus, as “Lilly-white of hue.” It should be: “These lips lilly, “This nose cherry.” This mode of position adds not a little to the burlesque of the passage. Farmer.

Note return to page 269 5Lay them in gore,] Mr. Theobald and Dr. Warburton instead of lay, read lave, but have no note to justify their alteration. Steevens.

Note return to page 270 6A Bergomask dance,] Sir Thomas Hanmer observes in his Glossary, that this is a dance after the manner of the peasants of Bergomasco, a country in Italy, belonging to the Venetians. All the buffoons in Italy affect to imitate the ridiculous jargon of that people; and from thence it became also a custom to imitate their manner of dancing. Steevens.

Note return to page 271 7&lblank; our company?] At the conclusion of B. and Fletcher's Beggar's Bush, there seems to be a sneer at this character of Bottom; but I do not very clearly perceive its drift. The beggars have resolved to embark for England, and exercise their profession there. One of them adds: “&lblank; we have a course; &lblank; “The spirit of Bottom, is grown bottomless:” This may mean, that either the public grew indifferent to bad actors, to plays in general, or to characters, the humour of which consisted in blunders. Steevens.

Note return to page 272 8gait] i. e. passage, progress. Steevens.

Note return to page 273 4In the old copies: And the wolf beholds the moon. As 'tis the design of these lines to characterize the animals, as they present themselves at the hour of midnight; and as the wolf is not justly characterized by saying he beholds the moon, which other beasts of prey, then awake, do: and as the sounds these animals make at that season, seem also intended to be represented; I make no question but the poet wrote: And the wolf behowls the moon. For so the wolf is exactly characterized, it being his peculiar property to howl at the moon. (Behowl, as bemoan, beseem, and an hundred others.) Warburton. The alteration is better than the original reading; but perhaps the author meant only to say, that the wolf gazes at the moon. Johnson. I think, now the wolf behowls the moon, was the original text. The allusion is frequently met with in the works of our author and his contemporaries. “'Tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon,” says he, in his As You Like It; and Massinger, in his New Way to pay old Debts, makes an usurer feel only “As the moon is moved “When wolves with hunger pin'd, howl at her brightness.” Farmer. So, in Hinde's Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606: “Wilt thou, with the wolf, barke at the moon.” The image is common to all poets. Again, in The Duke's Mistress, 1638: “&lblank; the mandrake's cry “Wolves howling at the moon.” Again, in Lylly's Endymion, 1591: “I am none of those wolves that bark most when thou shinest brightest.” Steevens. If behowls is in need of any further confirmation, it may be found in King Lear, “If wolves had at thy gate howled.” Again, in the 2d part of King Hen. VI: “And now, loud-howling wolves arouse the jades “That drag the tragic, melancholy night.” The word behold was in the time of Shakespeare frequently written behould (as I suppose it was then pronounced)—which probably occasioned the mistake. Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0310

Note return to page 274 5fordone.] i. e. overcome. So, Spenser, Faery Queen, b. i. c. x. s. 33: “And many souls in dolours had fordone.” Again, in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “—fore-wearied with striving, and fore-done with the tyrannous rage of her enemy.” Again, in the ancient metrical Romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton, bl. l. no date: “But by the other day at none, “These two dragons were foredone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 275 6I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door.] Cleanliness is always necessary to invite the residence and the favour of fairies: “These make our girls their slutt'ry rue, “By pinching them both black and blue, “And put a penny in their shoe   “The house for cleanly sweeping. Drayton. Johnson. To sweep the dust behind the door is a common expression, and a common practice in large, old houses; where the doors of halls and galleries are thrown backward, and seldom or never shut. Farmer.

Note return to page 276 7Through this house give glimmering light,] Milton perhaps had this picture in his thought: “Glowing embers through the room “Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.” Il Penseroso. So Drayton: “Hence shadows seeming idle shapes “Of little frisking elves and apes, “To earth do make their wanton 'scapes,   “As hope of pastime hastes them.” I think it should be read: Through this house in glimmering light. Johnson.

Note return to page 277 8Now until, &c.] This speech, which both the old quartos give to Oberon, is in the edition of 1623, and in all the following, printed as the song. I have restored it to Oberon, as it apparently contains not the blessing which he intends to bestow on the bed, but his declaration that he will bless it, and his orders to the fairies how to perform the necessary rites. But where then is the song?—I am afraid it is gone after many other things of greater value. The truth is that two songs are lost. The series of the scene is this; after the speech of Puck, Oberon enters, and calls his fairies to a song, which song is apparently wanting in all the copies. Next Titania leads another song, which is indeed lost like the former, though the editors have endeavoured to find it. Then Oberon dismisses his fairies to the dispatch of the ceremonies. The songs, I suppose, were lost, because they were not inserted in the players' parts, from which the drama was printed. Johnson.

Note return to page 278 8Nor mark prodigious,] Prodigious has here its primitive signification of portentous. So, in K. Richard III: “If ever he have child, abortive be it, “Prodigious, and untimely brought to light.” Steevens.

Note return to page 279 9&lblank; take his gate;] i. e. take his way, or direct his steps. So, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. i. c. 8: “And guide his weary gate both too and fro.” Again, in a Scottish Proverb: “A man may speer the gate to Rome.” Again, in the Mercers' Play, among the Chester Collection of Whitsun Mysteries, p.—: “Therfore goe not through his cuntrey, Nor the gate you came to day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 280 1[Exeunt King, &c.] Since the former part of this play was printed off, I have been informed that the originals of Shakespeare's Oberon and Titania, are to be sought in the ancient French romance of Huon de Bordeaux. Steevens.

Note return to page 281 2&lblank; unearned luck.] i. e. if we have better fortune than we have deserved. Steevens.

Note return to page 282 3Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,] That is, if we be dismissed without hisses. Johnson. So, in J. Markham's English Arcadia, 1607: “But the nymph, after the custom of distrest tragedians, whose first act is entertained with a snaky salutation, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 283 4Give me your hands,] That is, Clap your hands. Give us your applause. Johnson.

Note return to page 284 5[Exit.] Of this play there are two editions in quarto; one printed for Thomas Fisher, the other for James Roberts, both in 1600. I have used the copy of Roberts, very carefully collated, as it seems, with that of Fisher. Neither of the editions approach to exactness. Fisher is sometimes preferable, but Roberts was followed, though not without some variations, by Hemings and Condel, and they by all the folios that succeeded them. Wild and fantastical as this play is, all the parts in their various modes are well written, and give the kind of pleasure which the author designed. Fairies in his time were much in fashion; common tradition had made them familiar, and Spenser's poem had made them great. Johnson.

Note return to page 285 10903001 NOTE ON The human mortals want their winter here, &c. act II. sc. ii. p. 35. From heere, (for so the first folio spells the word) sir Thomas Hanmer by an easy alteration formed cheere, which surely deserves to be admitted into the text, as it affords much better sense than either of the emendations proposed by the two learned commentators who succeeded him. Their “winter cheer,” means those sports with which country people are wont to beguile the winter's evening—or as it is expressed in the next line, “hymns and carols.” Dr. Johnson has written a long note to prove this passage confused and unintelligible; but on a closer view, I believe it will be found perfectly clear.—“Titania's account of this calamity (says he) is not sufficiently consequential. Men find no winter, therefore they sing no hymns; the moon provoked at this omission, alters the seasons that is, the alteration of the seasons produces the alteration of the seasons.” But it is not surprising that no consequence should be found, where no consequence was intended.—No night is now with hymn or carol blest, is not an illation from the preceding line, (The human mortals want, &c.) but put in apposition with it.—The next line, Therefore the moon, &c. has no connection with—No night is now, &c. It does not refer to the omission of hymns or carols, but of the fairy rites, which were disturbed in consequence of Oberon's quarrel with Titania.—The moon is with peculiar propriety represented as incensed at the cessation—not of the christian carols, (as Dr. Warburton thinks) or the heathen rites of adoration, (as Dr. Johnson supposes) but of those sports which have been always reputed to be celebrated by her light.—The whole passage then stands thus.—Titania begins with saying: And never since the middle summer's spring, Met we &lblank; —But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. She then particularly enumerates the several consequences that have flowed from this contention.—The whole is divided into four clauses;—the first ending with the word—continents,—the second with the word—blest,—the third with—abound,—the fourth with which. 1. Therefore the winds &lblank; &lblank; their continents: 2. The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain; The plowman lost his sweat; &lblank; &lblank; The human mortals want their winter cheer; No night is now with hymn or carol blest: 3. Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, &lblank; abound: 4. And thorough this distemperature, we see &lblank; &lblank; now knows not which is which: And this same progeny of evil comes From our debate, from our dissention. In all this there is no difficulty.—All these calamities are the consequences of the dissention between Oberon and Titania;— as seems to be sufficiently pointed out by the word “therefore,” so often repeated.—Those lines which have it not, are evidently put in apposition with the preceding line in which “therefore” is found.—The passage should be pointed thus.—At the words continents—blest—abound—and which, there should be a colon— in all other places where the sense pauses, a semicolon. Malone.

Note return to page 286 1In the old editions in quarto, for J. Roberts, 1600, and in the old folio, 1623, there is no enumeration of the persons. It was first made by Mr. Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 287 2Salanio.] It is not easy to determine the orthography of this name. In the old editions the owner of it is called,—Salanio, Salino, and Solanio.

Note return to page 288 3This character I have restored to the Personæ Dramatis. The name appears in the first folio: the description is taken from the 4to. Steevens.

Note return to page 289 4The reader will find a distinct epitome of the novels from which the story of this play is supposed to be taken, at the conclusion of the notes. It should however be remembered, that if our poet was at all indebted to the Italian novellists, it must have been through the medium of some old translation, which has hitherto escaped the researches of his most industrious editors. It appears from a passage in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, &c. 1579, that a play, comprehending the distinct plots of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, had been exhibited long before he commenced a writer, viz. “The Jew shewn at the Bull, representing the greedinesse of worldly choosers, and the bloody minds of usurers.” These plays, says Gosson, (for he mentions others with it) are goode and sweet plays, &c. The Jew of Malta, by Marlow, neither was performed nor printed till some time after the author's death, which happened in 1593, nor do I know of any other play with the same title. It is therefore not improbable that Shakespeare new-wrote his piece, on the model already mentioned, and that the elder performance, being inferior, was permitted to drop silently into oblivion. This play of Shakespeare had been exhibited before the year 1598, as appears from Meres's Wits Treasury, where it is mentioned with eleven more of our author's pieces. It was enter'd on the books of the Stationers' Company, July 22, in the same year. It could not have been printed earlier, because it was not yet licensed. The old song of Gernutus the Jew of Venice, is published by Dr. Percy in the first volume of his Reliques of ancient English Poetry: and the ballad intituled, The Murtherous lyfe and terrible death of the rich Jewe of Malta; and the tragedie on the same subject, were both entered on the Stationers' books, May 1594. Steevens. The story was taken from an old translation of the Gesta Romanorum, first printed by Winkin de Worde. The book was very popular, and Shakespeare has closely copied some of the language: an additional argument, if we wanted it, of his track of reading.—Three vessels are exhibited to a lady for her choice— The first was made of pure gold, well beset with precious stones without, and within full of dead mens bones; and thereupon was engraven this posie: Whoso chuseth me, shall find that he deserveth. The second vessel was made of fine silver, filled with earth and worms, the superscription was thus, Whoso chuseth me shall find that his nature desireth. The third vessel was made of lead, full within of precious stones, and thereupon was insculpt this posie, Whoso chuseth me shall find that God hath disposed for him.—The lady after a comment upon each, chuses the leaden vessel. In a MS. of Lidgate, belonging to my very learned friend, Dr. Askew, I find a Tale of two Marchants of Egipt and of Baldad, ex Gestis Romanorum. Farmer.

Note return to page 290 5Argosie,] a ship from Argo. Pope. Whether it be derived from Argo I am in doubt. It was a name given in our author's time to ships of great burthen, probably galleons, such as the Spaniards now use in their West India trade. Johnson. Mr. Pope was mistaken. In Ricaut's Maxims of Turkish Polity, ch. xiv. it is said, “Those vast carracks called argosies, which are so much famed for the vastness of their burthen and bulk, were corruptly so denominated from Ragosies,” i. e. ships of Ragusa, a city and territory on the gulph of Venice, tributary to the Porte. If my memory does not fail me, the Ragusans lent their last great ship to the king of Spain for the Armada, and it was lost on the coast of Ireland. Shakespeare, as Mr. Heath observes, has given the name of Ragozine to the pirate in Measure for Measure. Steevens.

Note return to page 291 6Plucking the grass, &c.] By holding up the grass, or any light body that will bend by a gentle blast, the direction of the wind is found. “This way I used in shooting. Betwixt the markes was an open place, there I take a fethere, or a lytle grasse, and so learned how the wind stood.” Ascham. Johnson.

Note return to page 292 7Prying] One of the quartos reads—peering. I have followed the other, because it prevents the jingle which, otherwise, occurs in the line. Steevens.

Note return to page 293 8Andrew] The name of the ship. Johnson.

Note return to page 294 9Vailing her high top lower than her ribs] In Bullokar's English Expository, 1616, to vail, is thus explained: “It means to put off the hat, to strike sail, to give sign of submission.” So, in Stephen Gosson's book, called Playes confuted in several Actions:— “They might have vailed and bended to the king's idol.” Again, in Middleton's Blurt Master Constable, 1602: “I'll vail my crest to death for her dear sake.” Again, in the Fair Maid of the West, 1613, by Heywood: “&lblank; it did me good “To see the Spanish Carveil vail her top “Unto my maiden flag.” A carvel is a small vessel. It is mentioned by Raleigh; and I often meet with the word in Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia 1607: “&lblank; and here to be put into a mastless carvile.” “&lblank; in the creek lies the carvile, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 295 1&lblank; Now, by two-headed Janus,] Here Shakespeare shews his knowledge in the antique. By two-headed Janus is meant those antique bifrontine heads, which generally represent a young and smiling face, together with an old and wrinkled one, being of Pan and Bacchus; of Saturn and Apollo, &c. These are not uncommon in collections of antiques: and in the books of the antiquaries, as Montfauçon, Spanheim, &c. Warburton. Here, says Dr. Warburton, Shakespeare shews his knowledge in the antique: and so does Taylor the water-poet, who describes Fortune, “Like a Janus with a double-face.” Farmer.

Note return to page 296 2&lblank; peep through their eyes,] This gives us a very picturesque image of the countenance in laughing, when the eyes appear half shut. Warburton.

Note return to page 297 3&lblank; their teeth in way of smile,] Because such are apt enough to shew their teeth in anger. Warburton.

Note return to page 298 4Sola. My lord Bassanio, &c.] This speech is given to Lorenzo in the first folio; and Salarino and Salanio make their exit at the close of the preceding speech. Which is certainly right. Lorenzo (who, with Gratiano, had only accompanied Bassanio, till he should find Anthonio) prepares now to leave Bassanio to his business; but is detained by Gratiano, who enters into a conversation with Anthonio. Tyrwhitt. I have availed myself of this judicious correction, by restoring the speech to Lorenzo, and marking the exits of Salarino and Salanio at the end of the preceding speech. Steevens.

Note return to page 299 5Let me play the Fool:] Alluding to the common comparison of human life to a stage-play. So that he desires his may be the fool's or buffoon's part, which was a constant character in the old farces; from whence came the phrase, to play the fool. Warburton.

Note return to page 300 6As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,] The folio reads, I believe rightly:—I am Sir, an oracle. Malone.

Note return to page 301 7&lblank; let no dog bark!] This seems to be a proverbial expression. So, in Acolastus, a comedy, 1529: “&lblank; nor there shall no dogge barke at mine ententes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 302 8&lblank; would almost damn those ears,] Several old editions have it, dam, damme, and daunt. Some more correct copies, damn. The author's meaning is this; That some people are thought wise, whilst they keep silence; who, when they open their mouths, are such stupid praters, that the hearers cannot help calling them fools, and so incur the judgment denounc'd in the Gospel. Theobald.

Note return to page 303 9I'll end my exhortation after dinner.] The humour of this consists in its being an allusion to the practice of the puritan preachers of those times; who being generally very long and tedious, were often forced to put off that part of their sermon called the exhortation, till after dinner. Warburton.

Note return to page 304 1Is that any thing now?] All the old copies read, is that any thing now? I suppose we should read, is that any thing new? Johnson. The sense of the old reading is,—Does what he has just said amount to any thing, or mean any thing? Steevens. Surely the reading of the old copies is right. Anthonio asks; Is that any thing now? and Bassanio answers, that, Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing—the greatest part of his discourse is not any thing. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 305 2&lblank; like a wilful youth,] This does not at all agree with what he had before promised, that what followed should be pure innocence. For wilfulness is not quite so pure. We should read witless, i. e. heedless; and this agrees exactly to that to which he compares his case, of a school-boy; who, for want of advised watch, lost his first arrow, and sent another after it with more attention. But wilful agrees not at all with it. Warburton. Dr. Warburton confounds the time past and present. He has formerly lost his money like a wilful youth, he now borrows more in pure innocence, without disguising his former fault, or his present designs. Johnson.

Note return to page 306 3&lblank; prest unto it:] Prest may not here signify impress'd, as into military service, but ready. Pret. Fr. So, in Cæsar and Pompey, 1607: “What must be, must be; Cæsar's prest for all.” Again, in Hans Beer-pot, &c. 1618: “&lblank; your good word “Is ever prest to do an honest man good.” Again, in A Looking-Glass for London and England, 1617: “&lblank; here in Joppa haven “Our ship is prest and ready to depart.” Again, ibid: “Jehovah! I am prest to do thy will.” I could add twenty more instances of the word being used with this signification. Steevens.

Note return to page 307 4&lblank; sometimes from her eyes] So all the editions; but it certainly ought to be, sometime, i. e. formerly, some time ago, at a certain time: and it appears by the subsequent scene, that Bassanio was at Belmont with the Marquis de Montferrat, and saw Portia in her father's life time. Theobald. It is strange, Mr. Theobald did not know, that in old English, sometimes is synonymous with formerly. Nothing is more frequent in title-pages, than “sometimes fellow of such a college.” Farmer.

Note return to page 308 5Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse;] Though all the editions in this reading, I can perceive neither humour, nor reasoning in it. How does talking of horses, or knowing how to shoe them, make a man e'er the more a colt? Or, if a smith and a lady of figure were to have an affair together, would a colt be the issue of their caresses? The word dolt, which I have substituted, signifies one of the most stupid and blockish of the vulgar. Theobald. Mr. Theobald says, he can perceive neither humour nor reasoning in this reading, and therefore alters colt to dolt; but whatever humour or reasoning there is in the one, there is in the other: for the signification is the same in both. Hen. IV. 1st part, Falstaff says, “What a plague mean you to colt me thus?” And Fletcher constantly uses colt for dolt. Warburton. Colt is used for a witless, heady, gay youngster, whence the phrase used of an old man too juvenile, that he still retains his colt's tooth. See Hen. VIII. Johnson.

Note return to page 309 6&lblank; there is the county Palatine.] I am always inclined to believe, that Shakespeare has more allusions to particular facts and persons than his readers commonly suppose. The count here mentioned was, perhaps, Albertus a Lasco, a Polish Palatine, who visited England in our author's time, was eagerly caressed, and splendidly entertained; but running in debt, at last stole away, and endeavoured to repair his fortune by enchantment. Johnson.

Note return to page 310 7he hears merry tales, and smiles not:] From a transcript made by the late Mr. G. Vertue, of the prices paid to the actors of this time for performing before the king, court, &c. I learn, that the Count Palatine, who married the daughter of James, was frequently a spectator of the plays of Shakespeare, who possibly not finding him very much disposed to enter into the mirth of his scenes, might have dropped the present stroke of satire on him, after he had quitted the kingdom. But this is mere conjecture. Steevens.

Note return to page 311 8&lblank; he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian;] A satire on the ignorance of the young English travellers in our author's time. Warburton.

Note return to page 312 9&lblank; Scottish lord,] Scottish, which is in the quarto, was omitted in the first folio, for fear of giving offence to king James's countrymen. Theobald.

Note return to page 313 1I think, the Frenchman became his surety,] Alluding to the constant assistance, or rather constant promises of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in their quarrels with the English. This alliance is here humorously satirized. Warburton.

Note return to page 314 2How like you the young German, &c.] In Shakespeare's time the duke of Bavaria visited London, and was made knight of the garter. Perhaps in this enumeration of Portia's suitors, there may be some covert allusion to those of queen Elizabeth. Johnson.

Note return to page 315 3&lblank; catch him once upon the hip,] A phrase taken from the practice of wrestlers. Johnson.9Q0319

Note return to page 316 4&lblank; the ripe wants of my friend,] Ripe wants are wants come to the height, wants that can have no longer delay. Perhaps we might read, rife wants, wants that come thick upon him. Johnson.

Note return to page 317 5&lblank; the eanlings] Lambs just dropt: from ean, eniti. Musgrave.

Note return to page 318 6&lblank; of kind,] i. e. of nature. So, Turbervile, in his book of Falconry, 1575, p. 127: “So great is the curtesy of kind, as she ever seeketh to recompense any defect of hers with some other better benefit.” Again, in Drayton's Mooncalf: “&lblank; nothing doth so please her mind, “As to see mares and horses do their kind.” Collins.

Note return to page 319 7&lblank; the fulsome ewes;] Fulsome, I believe, in this instance, means lascivious, obscene. The same epithet is bestowed on the night, in Acolastus his After-Witte. By S. N. 1600: “Why shines not Phœbus in the fulsome night?” In the play of Muleasses the Turk, Madam Fulsome a Bawd is introduced. The word, however, sometimes signifies offensive in smell. So, in Chapman's version of the 17th Book of the Odyssey: “&lblank; and fill'd his fulsome scrip, &c.” It is likewise used by Shakespeare in K. John, to express some quality offensive to nature: “And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust.” Steevens.

Note return to page 320 8This was a way to thrive, &c.] So, in the ancient song of Gernutus the Jew of Venice: “His wife must lend a shilling,   “For every weeke a penny, “Yet bring a pledge that is double worth,   “If that you will have any. “And see, likewise, you keepe your day,   “Or else you lose it all: “This was the living of the wife,   “Her cow she did it call.” Her cow, &c. seems to have suggested to Shakespeare Shylock's argument for usury. Percy.

Note return to page 321 9&lblank; can cite scripture for his purpose &lblank; O, what a goodly outside falshood hath!] But this is not true, that falshood hath always a goodly outside. Nor does this take in the force of the speaker's sentiment; who would observe that that falshood which quotes scripture for its purpose, has a goodly outside. We should therefore read: O what a goodly outside's falshood hath! i. e. his falshood, Shylock's. Warburton. I wish any copy would give me authority to range and read the lines thus: O, what a godly outside falshood hath! An evil soul producing holy witness, Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; Or goodly apple rotten at the heart. Yet there is no difficulty in the present reading. Falsehood, which as truth means honesty, is taken here for treachery and knavery, does not stand for falshood in general, but for the dishonesty now operating. Johnson.

Note return to page 322 1&lblank; my usances:] Use and Usance are both words anciently employ'd for usury. So, in the English Traveller, 1633: “Give me my use, give me my principal.” Again: “A toy; the main about five hundred pounds, “And the use fifty.” Steevens.

Note return to page 323 2Still I have borne it with a patient shrug;] So, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633: “I learn'd in Florence how to kiss my hand, “Heave up my shoulders when they call me dogge.” Malone.

Note return to page 324 3And spit &lblank;] The old copies always read spet, which spelling is followed by Milton: “&lblank; the womb “Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 325 4&lblank; gaberdine,] This word is likewise used by Tho. Drant in his translation of Horace's Epistles, 1567: “&lblank; my cote is bare, my gawberdyne amis.” Steevens.

Note return to page 326 5A breed of barren metal of his friend?] A breed, that is interest money bred from the principal. By the epithet barren, the author would instruct us in the argument on which the advocates against usury went, which is this, that money is a barren thing, and cannot, like corn and cattle, multiply itself. And to set off the absurdity of this kind of usury, he put breed and barren in opposition. Warburton. So, in our Poet's Venus and Adonis: “Foul cank'ring rust the hidden treasure frets, “But gold that's put to use more gold begets.” Malone. Dr. Warburton very truly interprets this passage. Old Meres says, “Usurie and encrease by gold and silver is unlawful, because against nature; nature hath made them sterill and barren, and usurie makes them procreative.” Farmer. The quartos read—a breed of—the folio—a breed for—. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0322

Note return to page 327 6&lblank; dwell in my necessity.] To dwell seems in this place to mean the same as to continue. To abide has both the senses of habitation and continuance. Johnson.

Note return to page 328 7&lblank; left in the fearful guard &c.] But surely fearful was the most trusty guard for a house-keeper in a populous city, where houses are not carried by storm like fortresses. For fear would keep them on their watch, which was all that was necessary for the owner's security. I suppose therefore Shakespeare wrote: fearless guard. i. e. careless; and this, indeed, would expose his house to the only danger he had to apprehend in the day-time, which was clandestine pilfering. This reading is much confirmed by the character he gives this guard, of an unthrifty knave, and by what he says of him afterwards, that he was: &lblank; a huge feeder: Snail-slow in profit, but he sleeps by day More than the wild cat &lblank; Warburton. Dr. Warburton has forgotten that fearful is not only that which fears, but that which is feared or causes fear. Fearful guard, is a guard that is not to be trusted, but gives cause of fear. To fear was anciently to give as well as feel terrours. Johnson. So, in Hen. IV. P. I. “A mighty and a fearful head they are.” Steevens.

Note return to page 329 8I like not fair terms,] Kind words, good language. Johnson.

Note return to page 330 9To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.] To understand how the tawney prince, whose savage dignity is very well supported, means to recommend himself by this challenge, it must be remembered that red blood is a traditionary sign of courage: Thus Macbeth calls one of his frighted soldiers, a lilly liver'd lown; again, in this play, Cowards are said to have livers as white as milk; and an effeminate and timorous man is termed a milksop. Johnson.

Note return to page 331 1Hath fear'd the valiant;] i. e. terrify'd. To fear is often used by our old writers, in this sense. So, Ben Jonson, in Every Man in his Humour: “Make him a warrant, (he shall not go) I but fear the knave.” So, in Hen. VI. 3d Part: “Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal.” Again, in the same play: “For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.” And again, in Hen. IV. Part II: “The people fear me, for they do observe “Unfather'd heirs, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 332 2And hedg'd me by his wit &lblank;] I suppose we may safely read: and hedg'd me by his will. Confined me by his will. Johnson.

Note return to page 333 3That slew the Sophy, &c.] Shakespeare seldom escapes well when he is entangled with geography. The prince of Morocco must have travelled far to kill the Sophy of Persia. Johnson. It were well, if Shakespeare had never entangled himself with geography worse than in the present case. If the prince of Morocco be supposed to have served in the army of sultan Soliman (the second, for instance), I see no geographical objection to his having killed the Sophi of Persia. See D'Herbelot in Soliman Ben Selim. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 334 4So is Alcides beaten by his rage;] Though the whole set of editions concur in this reading, it is corrupt at bottom. Let us look into the poet's drift, and the history of the persons mentioned in the context. If Hercules, (says he) and Lichas were to play at dice for the decision of their superiority, Lichas, the weaker man, might have the better cast of the two. But how then is Alcides beaten by his rage? The poet means no more, than, if Lichas had the better throw, so might Hercules himself be beaten by Lichas. And who was he, but a poor unfortunate servant of Hercules, that unknowingly brought his master the envenomed shirt, dipt in the blood of the Centaur Nessus, and was thrown headlong into the sea for his pains? This one circumstance of Lichas's quality known, sufficiently ascertains the emendation I have substituted, page instead of rage. Theobald.

Note return to page 335 5Therefore be advis'd.] Therefore be not precipitant; consider well what we are to do. Advis'd is the word opposite to rash. Johnson.

Note return to page 336 6The old copies read—Enter the Clown alone; and throughout the play this character is called the Clown at most of his entrances or exits. Steevens.

Note return to page 337 7Try conclusions] —So the old quarto. The first folio, by a mere blunder, reads, try confusions, which, because it makes a kind of paltry jest, has been copied by all the editors. Johnson. To try conclusions is to try experiments. So, in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611: “&lblank; since favour “Cannot attain thy love, I'll try conclusions.” Again, in the Witches of Lancashire, 1634: “Nay then I'll try conclusions: “Mare, Mare, see thou be, “And where I point thee, carry me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 338 8Turn up on your right hand, &c.] This arch and perplexed direction to puzzle the enquirer, seems to imitate that of Syrus to Demea in the Brothers of Terence: “&lblank; ubi eas præterieris, “Ad sinistram hac rectâ plateâ: ubi ad Dianæ veneris, “Ito ad dextram: prius quam ad portam venias, &c. Warburton.

Note return to page 339 9God's sonties,] I know not exactly of what oath this is a corruption. I meet with God's santy in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: Again in The longer thou livest the more Fool thou art, a comedy, bl. l. without date: “Gods santie, this is a goodly book indeed.” Again: “Godes santy, pastyme my playfellow.” Perhaps it was once customary to swear by the santé, i. e. health of the Supreme Being. Oaths of such a turn are not unfrequent among our ancient writers. All, however, seem to have been so thoroughly convinced of the crime of prophane swearing, that they were content to disguise their meaning by abbreviations which were permitted silently to terminate in irremediable corruptions. Steevens.

Note return to page 340 1your child that shall be.] The distinction between boy and son is obvious, but child seems to have some meaning, which is now lost. Johnson. Launcelot, by your child that shall be, may mean, that his duty to his father shall, for the future, shew him to be his child. It became necessary for him to say something of that sort, after all the tricks he had been playing him; or, perhaps, by child that shall be, he alludes to the proverb “once a man and twice a child.” Steevens.

Note return to page 341 2&lblank; my thill-horse] Thill or fill, means the shafts of a cart or waggon. So, in A Woman never Vex'd, 1632: “&lblank; I will “Give you the fore-horse place, and I will be “I' the fills.” Again, in Fortune by Land and Sea, 1655, by Tho. Heywood and W. Rowley: “&lblank; acquaint you with Jock the fore-horse, and Fibb the fil-horse, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 342 3&lblank; more guarded] i. e. more ornamented. So, in Soliman and Perseda, 1599: “Piston. But is there no reward for my false dice? “Erastus. Yes, sir a guarded suit from top to toe.” Again, in Albumazar, 1610: “&lblank; turn my plough-boy Dick to two guarded footmen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 4Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book,] The position of the words makes the sentence somewhat obscure: Their natural order should be this: Well, if any man in Italy, which doth offer to swear upon a book, have a fairer table, I shall have good luck. And the humour of the passage seems this: Launcelot, a joker, and designedly a blunderer, says the reverse of what he should do: which is, That if no man in Italy, who would offer to take his oath upon it, hath a fairer table than he, he shall have good fortune. The banter may, partly, be on chiromancy in general: but it is very much in character for Launcelot, who is a hungry serving-man, to consider his table before his line of life, or any other points of fortune. Theobald. &lblank; fairer table,] The chiromantic term for the lines of the hand. So, Ben Jonson in his Mask of Gipsies, to the lady Elizabeth Hatton: “Mistress of a fairer table, “Hath not history nor fable.” &lblank; which doth offer to swear upon a book, &c.] This nonsense seems to have taken its rise from the accident of a lost line in transcribing the play for the press; so that the passage, for the future, should be printed thus,—Well, if any man in Italy, have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune. It is impossible to find, again, the lost line: but the lost sense is easy enough—if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth [promise luck, I am mistaken. I durst almost] offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Warburton. Mr. Theobald's note is as obscure as the passage. It may be read more than once before the complication of ignorance can be completely disentangled. Table is the palm expanded. What Mr. Theobald conceives it to be, cannot easily be discovered, but he thinks it somewhat that promises a full belly. Dr. Warburton understood the word, but puzzles himself with no great success in the pursuit of the meaning. The whole matter is this: Launcelot congratulates himself upon his dexterity and good fortune, and, in the height of his rapture, inspects his hand, and congratulates himself upon the felicities in his table. The act of expanding his hand puts him in mind of the action in which the palm is shewn, by raising it to lay it on the book, in judicial attestations. Well, says he, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, that doth offer to swear upon a book—Here he stops with an abruptness very common, and proceeds to particulars. Johnson. Without examining the expositions of this passage, given by the three learned annotators, I shall briefly set down what appears to me to be the whole meaning of it. Launcelot, applauding himself for his success with Bassanio, and looking into the palm of his hand, which by fortune-tellers is called the table, breaks out into the following reflection: Well: if any man in Italy have a fairer table; which doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune—i. e. a table, which doth (not only promise, but) offer to swear (and to swear upon a book too) that I shall have good fortune—(He omits the conclusion of the sentence which might have been) I am much mistaken; or, I'll be hanged, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 344 5in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed;] A cant phrase to signify the danger of marrying.—A certain French writer uses the same kind of figure, “O mon Ami, j'aimerois mieux être tombée sur la pointe d'un Oreiller, & m' être rompû le Cou.”— Warburton.

Note return to page 345 6Something too liberal;] Liberal I have already shewn to be mean, gross, coarse, licentious. Johnson.

Note return to page 346 7&lblank; hood mine eyes] Alluding to the manner of covering a hawk's eyes. So, in the Tragedy of Crœsus, 1604: “And like a hooded hawk, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 347 8&lblank; sad ostent] Grave appearance; shew of staid and serious behaviour. Johnson. Ostent is a word very commonly used for show among the old dramatic writers. So, in Heywood's Iron Age, 1632: “&lblank; you in those times “Did not affect ostent.” Again, in Chapman's translation of Homer, edit. 1598, b. 6: “&lblank; did bloodie vapours raine “For sad ostent, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 348 9&lblank; torch-bearers.] See the note in Romeo and Juliet, act. I. sc. 4. We have not spoke us yet, &c. i. e. we have not yet bespoke us, &c. Thus the old copies. It may, however, mean, we have not as yet consulted on the subject of torch-bearers. Mr. Pope reads— “spoke as yet.”— Steevens.

Note return to page 349 1to break up this,] To break up was a term in carving. So, in Love's Labour's Lost, act III. sc. i: “&lblank; Boyet, you can carve; “Break up this capon.” See the note on this passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 350 2&lblank; gormandize,] The word is very ancient, and took its rise from a Danish king. The Danes, towards the latter end of the ninth century, were defeated by king Alfred at Edendon in Wiltshire; and as an article of peace, Guthrum their king, commonly called Gurmond, submitted to be baptized, king Alfred being his godfather, who gave him the name of Athelstan, and took him for his adopted son. During the stay of the Danes in Wiltshire, “they consumed their time in profuseness, and belly-cheer, in idleness and sloth. Insomuch, that as from their laziness in general, we even to this day call them Lur-Danes; so from the licentiousness of Gurmond, and his army in particular, we brand all luxurious and profuse people, by the name of Gurmondizers.” And this luxury, and this laziness, are the sole monuments, the only memorials by which the Danes have made themselves notorious to posterity, by lying encamped in Wiltshire. Vide, A Vindication of Stone-Heng restored, by John Webb, esq. p. 227. Ben Jonson in his Sejanus, act I: “That great Gourmond, fat Apicius.” G.

Note return to page 351 3&lblank; to feed upon The prodigal Christian.] Shylock forgets his resolution. In a former scene he declares he will neither eat, drink, nor pray with Christians. Of this circumstance the poet was aware, and meant only to heighten the malignity of the character, by making him depart from his most settled resolve, for the prosecution of his revenge. Steevens.

Note return to page 352 4&lblank; then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday last,] “Black-Monday is a moveable day; it is Easter-Monday, and was so called on this occasion: In the 34th of Edward III. (1360) the 14th of April, and the morrow after Easter-day, king Edward, with his host, lay before the city of Paris; which day was full dark of mist and hail, and so bitter cold, that many men died on their horses' backs with the cold. Wherefore, unto this day, it hath been called the Blacke-Monday.” Stowe, p. 264—6. Gray. It appears from a passage in Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592, that some superstitious belief was annexed to the accident of bleeding at the nose: “As he stood gazing, his nose on a sudden bled, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his.” Steevens.

Note return to page 353 5Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum, And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife—] Primâ nocte domum claude; neque in vias Sub cantu querulæ despice tibiæ. Hor. Lib. iii. Od. 7. Malone.

Note return to page 354 6&lblank; the vile squeaking] The folio and one of the quartos read squealing. Steevens.

Note return to page 355 7The patch is kind enough;] This term came into use from the name of a celebrated fool, This I learn from Wilson's Art of Rhetorique, 1553: “A word-making, called of the Grecians Onomatopeia, is when we make words of our own mind, such as be derived from the nature of things—As to call one Patche, or Cowlson, whom we see to do a thing foolishly; because these two in their time were notable fools.” Probably the dress which the celebrated Patch wore, was in allusion to his name, patched or particoloured. Hence the stage fool has ever since been exhibited in a motley coat. In Rowley's When you see me you know me, or Hist. of K. Henry VIII. 1632, Cardinal Wolsey's fool Patch is introduced. Perhaps he was the original Patch of whom Wilson speaks. Malone.

Note return to page 356 8O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly] This is a very odd image, of Venus's pigeons flying to seal the bonds of love. The sense is obvious, and we know the dignity due to Venus's pigeons. There was certainly a joke intended here, which the ignorance or boldness of the first transcribers has murdered: I doubt not but Shakespeare wrote the line thus: O, ten times faster Venus' widgeons fly To seal, &c. For widgeon is not only one species of pigeons, but signified likewise metaphorically, a silly fellow, as goose, or gudgeon, does now. The calling love's votaries, Venus's widgeons, is in high humour. Butler uses the same joke in speaking of the Presbyterians: “Th' apostles of this fierce religion, Like Mahomet's, were ass and wigeon. Mahomet's ass, or rather mule, was famous: and the monks in their fabulous accounts of him said, he taught a pigeon to pick peas out of his ears to carry on the ends of this impostor. Warburton. I believe the poet wrote as the editors have printed. How it is so very high humour to call lovers widgeons rather than pigeons, I cannot find. Lovers have in poetry been always called Turtles or Doves, which in lower language may be pigeons. Johnson. That a widgeon is one species of pigeons, I believe remains a secret from all ornithologists but Dr. Warburton. Chapman in his version of Homer often gives pigeons instead of doves. So, in the Catalogue of Warriors: “&lblank; Thisbe that for pigeons doth surpass.” Steevens.

Note return to page 357 8&lblank; a younker,] All the old copies read a younger. Steevens.

Note return to page 358 1&lblank; doth she return;] Surely the bark ought to be of the masculine gender, otherwise the allusion wants somewhat of propriety. This indiscriminate use of the personal for the neuter, at least obscures the passage. A ship, however, is commonly spoken of in the feminine gender. Steevens.

Note return to page 359 2&lblank; a Gentile, and no Jew.] A jest arising from the ambiguity of Gentile, which signifies both a Heathen, and one well born. Johnson. So at the conclusion of the first part of Hieronimo, &c. 1605: “&lblank; So, good night kind gentles, “For I hope there's never a Jew among you all.” Again, in Swetnam Arraign'd, 1620: “Joseph the Jew was a better Gentile far.” Steevens. A Gentile, and no Jew. Dr. Johnson rightly explains this. There is an old book by one Ellis, entitled, “The Gentile Sinner, or England's brave Gentleman.” Farmer.

Note return to page 360 3&lblank; as blunt;] That is, as gross as the dull metal. Johnson.

Note return to page 361 4&lblank; insculp'd upon;] To insculp is to engrave. So, in Woman never Vex'd, 1632: “&lblank; in golden text Shall be insculp'd &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 362 5Gilded wood may worms infold.] In all the old editions this line is written thus: Gilded timber do worms infold. From which Mr. Rowe and all the following editors have made: Gilded wood may worms infold. A line not bad in itself, but not so applicable to the occasion as that which, I believe, Shakespeare wrote: Gilded tombs do worms infold. A tomb is the proper repository of a death's-head. Johnson.

Note return to page 363 6Your answer had not been inscrol'd:] Since there is an answer inscrol'd or written in every casket, I believe for your we should read this. When the words were written yr and ys, the mistake was easy. Johnson.

Note return to page 364 7Chuse me so.] The old quarto edition of 1600 has no distribution of acts, but proceeds from the beginning to the end in an unbroken tenour. This play therefore having been probably divided without authority by the publishers of the first folio, lies open to a new regulation, if any more commodious division can be proposed. The story is itself so wildly incredible, and the changes of the scene so frequent and capricious, that the probability of action does not deserve much care; yet it may be proper to observe, that, by concluding the second act here, time is given for Bassanio's passage to Belmont. Johnson.

Note return to page 365 8I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday;] i. e. I conversed. So, in King John: “Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the fourth book of the Odyssey: “The morning shall yield time to you and me, “To do what fits, and reason mutually.” Steevens.

Note return to page 366 9Slubber not] To slubber is to do any thing carelesly, imperfectly. So, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “&lblank; they slubber'd thee over so negligently.” Steevens.

Note return to page 367 1&lblank; your mind of love:] So all the copies, but I suspect some corruption. Johnson. This imaginary corruption is removed by only putting a comma after mind. Langton. Of love, is an adjuration sometimes used by Shakespeare. So Merry Wives, act II. sc. 7: “Quick. &lblank; desires you to send her your little page, of all loves:” i. e. she desires you to send him by all means. Your mind of love may, however, in this instance, mean—your loving mind. So, in the Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604: “A mind of treason is a treasonable mind. “Those that speak freely, have no mind of treason.” Steevens.

Note return to page 368 2&lblank; embraced heaviness] This unmeaning epithet would make me choose rather to read: enraced heaviness, from the French enraciner, accrescere, inveterascere. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “I could not have owed her a more rooted love.” And, again, in Othello: “With one of an ingraft infirmity.” Warburton. Of Dr. Warburton's correction it is only necessary to observe, that it has produced a new word, which cannot be received without necessity. When I thought the passage corrupted, it seemed to me not improbable that Shakespeare had written entranced heaviness, musing, abstracted, moping melancholy. But I know not why any great efforts should be made to change a word which has no uncommodious or unusual sense. We say of a man now, that he hugs his sorrows, and why might not Anthonio embrace heaviness? Johnson. So, in Much Ado about Nothing, sc. i: “You embrace your charge too willingly.” Again, in this play of the Merchant of Venice, act III. sc. ii: “&lblank; doubtful thoughts and rash-embrac'd despair. Steevens.

Note return to page 369 3And so have I addrest me:] To address is to prepare. The meaning is, I have prepared myself by the same ceremonies. Steevens. I believe we should read: “And so have I. Address me, Fortune, now, “To my heart's hope!” So, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, act III. scene the last, Falstaff says, “&lblank; I will then address me to my appointment.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 370 4&lblank; in the force] i. e. the power. Steevens.

Note return to page 371 5How much low peasantry would then be glean'd From the true seed of honour?] The meaning is, How much meanness would be found among the great, and how much greatness among the mean. But since men are always said to glean corn though they may pick chaff, the sentence had been more agreeable to the common manner of speech if it had been written thus: How much low peasantry would then be pick'd From the true seed of honour? how much honour Glean'd from the chaff? Johnson.

Note return to page 372 6&lblank; how much honour Pickt from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnish'd? &lblank;] This confusion and mixture of the metaphors, makes me think that Shakespeare wrote, To be new vanned. &lblank; i. e. winnow'd, purged, from the French word, vanner; which is derived from the Latin Vannus, ventilabrum, the fan used for winnowing the chaff from the corn. This alteration restores the metaphor to its integrity: and our poet frequently uses the same thought. So, in the second Part of Hen. IV: We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind, That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff. Warburton. Shakespeare is perpetually violating the integrity of his metaphors, and the emendation proposed seems to me to be as faulty as unnecessary; for what is already selected from the chaff needs not be new vanned. I wonder Dr. Warburton did not think of changing the word ruin into rowing, which in some counties of England, is used to signify the second and inferior crop of grass which is cut in autumn. So, in one of our old pieces, of which I forgot to set down the name when I transcribed the following passage: “&lblank; when we had taken the first crop, you might have then been bold to eat the rowens.” The word occurs, however, both in the notes on Tusser, and in Mortimer. Steevens.

Note return to page 373 7&lblank; I wis,] I know. Wissen, German. So, Sidney: “Made them their own before they had it wist.” Again, in Shakespeare's Hen. VI: “I wis your grandame had no worser match.” Again, in the comedy of king Cambyses: “Yea I wis shall you, and that with all speed.” Again, ibid: “No, wis you, Jack, I look a little more smug.” Again, in the old mystery of Candlemas-Day, &c: “And when he wist that thei were goon.” Ascham and Waller both use the word. Steevens.

Note return to page 374 8Take what wife you will to bed,] Perhaps the poet had forgotten that he who missed Portia was never to marry any woman. Johnson.

Note return to page 375 9&lblank; to bear my wroth.] The old editions read—“to bear my wroath.” Wroath is used in some of the old books for misfortune; and is often spelt like ruth, which at present signifies only pity, or sorrow for the misery of another. The modern editors read—my wrath. Steevens.

Note return to page 376 1Por. Here; what would my lord?] Would not this speech to the servant be more proper in the mouth of Nerissa? Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 377 2&lblank; regreets;] i. e. salutations. So, in another of Shakespeare's plays: “Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 378 3&lblank; knapt ginger;] To knap is to break short. The word occurs in the Psalms. Steevens.

Note return to page 379 4&lblank; lest the devil cross my prayer;] But the prayer was Salanio's. The other only, as clerk, says amen to it. We must therefore read—thy prayer. Warburton.

Note return to page 380 1&lblank; a bankrupt, a prodigal,] This is spoke of Anthonio. But why a prodigal? his friend Bassanio indeed had been too liberal; and with this name the Jew honours him when he is going to sup with him: &lblank; I'll go in hate to feed upon The prodigal Christian &lblank; But Anthonio was a plain, reserved, parsimonious merchant; be assured therefore we should read, &lblank; a bankrupt for a prodigal, i. e. he is become bankrupt by supplying the extravagancies of his friend Bassanio. Warburton. There is no need of alteration. There could be, in Shylock's opinion, no prodigality more culpable than such liberality as that by which a man exposes himself to ruin for his friend. Johnson.

Note return to page 381 6&lblank; it was my turquoise, I had it of Leah, when I was a batchelor:] A turquoise is a precious stone found in the veins of the mountains on the confines of Persia to the east, subject to the Tartars. As Shylock had been married long enough to have a daughter grown up, it is plain he did not value this turquoise on account of the money for which he might hope to sell it, but merely in respect of the imaginary virtues formerly ascribed to the stone. It was said of the Turky-stone, that it faded or brightened in its colour, as the health of the wearer encreased or grew less. To this B. Jonson refers, in his Sejanus: “And true as Turkise in my dear lord's ring, “Look well, or ill with him.” Again, in the Muses Elysium, by Drayton: “The turkesse, which who haps to wear, “Is often kept from peril.” Other superstitious qualities are imputed to it, all of which were either monitory or preservative to the wearer. The same quality was supposed to be resident in coral. So, in the Three Ladies of London, 1584: “You must say jet will take up a straw, amber will make one fat, “Coral will look pale when you be sick, and chrystal will stanch blood.” Thus Holinshed, speaking of the death of K. John, “And when the king suspected them (the pears) to be poisoned indeed, by reason that such pretious stones as he had about him cast forth a certain sweat as it were bewraeing the poison, &c.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0333 So Donne, in one of his Elegies: “As a compassionate turcoyse which doth tell “By looking pale, the wearer is not well.” Farmer.

Note return to page 382 7And so though yours, not yours—Prove it so,] It may be more grammatically read: And so though yours I'm not yours. Johnson.

Note return to page 383 8Let fortune go to hell for it,—not I.] This line is very obscure. The form of the expression alludes to what she had said of being forsworn. After some struggle, she resolves to keep her oath: and then says, Let fortune go to hell for it. For what! not for telling or favouring Bassanio, which was the temptation she then lay under: for fortune had taken no oath. And, surely, for the more favouring a man of merit, fortune did not deserve (considering how rarely she trangresses this way) so severe a sentence. Much less could the speaker, who favour'd Bassanio, think so. The meaning then must be, Let fortune rather go to hell for not favouring Bassanio, than I for favouring him. So loosely does our author sometimes use his pronouns—not I, does not signify Let not I go to hell; for then it should be Let not me. But it is a distinct sentence of itself: and is a very common proverbial speech, signifying, I will have nothing to do with it. Which if the Oxford editor had considered, he might have spared his pains in changing I into me. Warburton. The meaning is, “If the worst I fear should happen, and it should prove in the event, that I, who am justly yours by the free donation I have made you of myself, should yet not be yours in consequence of an unlucky choice, let fortune go to hell for robbing you of your just due, not I for violating my oath. Revisal.

Note return to page 384 9&lblank; to peize the time;] Thus the old copies. To peize is from peser, Fr. So, in K. Richard III: “Lest leaden slumber peize me down to-morrow.” To peize the time, therefore, is to retard it by hanging weights upon it. All the modern editors read, without authority,—piece. Steevens.9Q0334

Note return to page 385 1With no less presence,] With the same dignity of mien. Johnson.

Note return to page 386 2Live thou, I live:—With much much more dismay I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray.] One of the quartos reads: Live then, I live with much more dismay To view the fight, than &c. The folio, 1623, thus, Live thou, I live with much more dismay I view the fight, than &c. The other quartos give the present reading. Johnson.

Note return to page 387 3Reply.] These words, reply, reply, were in all the late editions, except sir T. Hanmer's, put as a verse in the song, but in all the old copies stand as a marginal direction. Johnson.

Note return to page 388 4So may the outward shows] He begins abruptly, the first part of the argument has passed in his mind. Johnson.

Note return to page 389 5&lblank; gracious voice,] Pleasing; winning favour. Johnson.

Note return to page 390 6&lblank; by the weight;] That is, artificial beauty is purchased so; as, false hair, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 391 7&lblank; crisped &lblank;] i. e. curled. So, in the Philosopher's Satires, by Robert Anton: “Her face as beauteous as the crisped morn. Steevens.

Note return to page 392 8&lblank; in the sepulchre.] See a note on Timon of Athens, act IV. sc. iii. Shakespeare has likewise satirized this yet prevailing fashion in Love's Labour's Lost. Steevens.

Note return to page 393 9&lblank; the guiled shore] i. e. the treacherous shore. I should not have thought the word wanted explanation, but that some of our modern editors have rejected it, and read gilded. Guiled is the reading of all the ancient copies. Steevens.

Note return to page 394 1Indian beauty;] Sir Tho. Hanmer reads: &lblank; Indian dowdy. Johnson.

Note return to page 395 2Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,] Bassanio is displeased at the golden casket for its gaudiness, and the silver one for its paleness; but what! is he charmed with the leaden one for having the very same quality that displeased him in the silver? The poet certainly wrote: Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence: This characterizes the lead from the silver, which paleness does not, they being both pale. Besides, there is a beauty in the antithesis between plainness and eloquence; between paleness and eloquence none. So it is said before of the leaden casket: This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt. Warburton. It may be that Dr. Warburton has altered the wrong word, if any alteration be necessary. I would rather give the character of silver, “&lblank; Thou stale, and common drudge “'Tween man and man.” &lblank; The paleness of lead is for ever alluded to. “Diane declining, pale as any ledde.” Says Stephen Hawes. In Fairfax's Tasso, we have “The lord Tancredie, pale with rage as lead.” Again, Sackville, in his Legend of the Duke of Buckingham: “Now pale as lead, now cold as any stone.” And in the old ballad of the King and the Beggar: “&lblank; She blushed scarlet red, “Then straight again, as pale as lead.” As to the antithesis, Shakespeare has already made it in the Midsummer Night's Dream: “When (says Theseus) I have seen great clerks look pale, “I read as much, as from the rattling tongue “Of saucy and audacious eloquence.” Farmer.

Note return to page 396 3In measure rain thy joy, &lblank;] The first quarto edition reads: In measure range thy joy. The folio, and one of the quartos: In measure raine thy joy. I once believ'd Shakespeare meant: In measure rein thy joy. The words rain and rein were not in these times distinguished by regular orthography. There is no difficulty in the present reading, only where the copies vary, some suspicion of error is always raised. Johnson. I believe Shakespeare alluded to the well-known proverb, It cannot rain, but it pours. So, in the Laws of Candy, by B. and Fletcher: “&lblank; pour not too fast joys on me, “But sprinkle them so gently, I may stand them.” Mr. Tollet is of opinion that rein is the true word, as it better agrees with the context; and more especially on account of the following passage in Coriolanus, which approaches very near to the present reading: “&lblank; being once chaf'd, he cannot “Be rein'd again to temperance.” So, in Love's Labour's Lost, act V. sc. ii: “Rein thy tongue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 397 4Fair Portia's counterfeit?] Counterfeit, which is at present used only in a bad sense, anciently signified a likeness, a resemblance, without comprehending any idea of fraud. So, in The Wit of a Woman, 1604: “I will see if I can agree with this stranger, for the drawing of my daughter's counterfeit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 398 5Methinks it should have pow'r to steal both his, And leave itself unfurnish'd: &lblank;] I know not how unfinish'd has intruded without notice into the later editions, as the quartos and folio have unfurnish'd, which sir Tho. Hanmer has received. Perhaps it might be: And leave himself unfurnish'd. Johnson.

Note return to page 399 6Peals] The second 4to reads, pearles of praise. Johnson. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0335

Note return to page 400 7Is sum of something; &lblank;] We should read, some of something, i. e. only a piece, or part only of an imperfect account; which she explains in the following line. Warburton. Thus one of the quartos. The folio reads: Is sum of nothing. &lblank; The purport of the reading in the text seems to be this: &lblank; the full sum of me Is sum of something, i. e. is not entirely ideal, but amounts to as much as can be found in—an unlesson'd girl, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 401 8&lblank; being blent together.] i. e. blended. Steevens.

Note return to page 402 9&lblank; you can wish none from me:] That is, none away from me; none that I shall lose, if you gain it. Johnson.

Note return to page 403 1&lblank; for intermission—] Intermission is pause, intervening time, delay. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; gentle heaven “Cut short all intermission!” Steevens.

Note return to page 404 2The best condition'd and unweary'd spirit In doing courtesies; &lblank;] To be read and pointed thus: The best condition'd: an unwary spirit. Warburton.

Note return to page 405 3&lblank; so fond] i.e. so foolish. So, in the old comedy of Mother Bombie, 1594, by Lilly: “&lblank; that the youth seeing her fair cheeks, may be enamoured before they hear her fond speech.” Steevens.

Note return to page 406 4&lblank; dull-ey'd fool,] This epithet dull-ey'd is bestow'd on melancholy in Pericles Prince of Tyre. Steevens.

Note return to page 407 5The duke cannot deny &c. &lblank;] As the reason here given seems a little perplexed, it may be proper to explain it. If, says he, the duke stop the course of law it will be attended with this inconvenience, that stranger merchants, by whom the wealth and power of this city is supported, will cry out of injustice. For the known stated law being their guide and security, they will never bear to have the current of it stopped on any pretence of equity whatsoever. Warburton.

Note return to page 408 6Whose souls do bear an equal yoke, &c.] The folio 1623, reads egal, which I believe in Shakespeare's time was commonly used for equal. So it was in Chaucer's: “I will presume hym so to dignifie “Yet be not egall.” Prol. to the Remedy of Love. Again, in Gorboduc: “Sith all as one do bear you egall faith.” Steevens.

Note return to page 409 7Of lineaments, of manners, &c. &lblank;] The wrong pointing has made this fine sentiment nonsense. As implying that friendship could not only make a similitude of manners, but of faces. The true sense is, lineaments of manners, i. e. form of the manners, which, says the speaker, must needs be proportionate. Warburton. The poet only means to say, that corresponding proportions of body and mind are necessary for those who spend their time together. So, in K. Henry IV. Part ii: “Dol. Why doth the prince love him so then? “Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness, &c.” Every one will allow that the friend of a toper should have a strong head, and the intimate of a sportsman such an athletic constitution as will enable him to acquit himself with reputation in the exercises of the field. The word lineaments was used with great laxity by our ancient writers. In The learned and true Assertion of the Original, Life, &c. of King Arthur, translated from the Latin of John Leland, 1582, it is used for the human frame in general. Speaking of the removal of that prince's bones, —he calls them Arthur's lineaments three times translated; and again, all the lineaments of them remaining in that most stately tomb, saving the shin bones of the king and queen, &c. Again, in Greene's Farewell to Follie, 1617: Nature had so curiously performed his charge in the lineaments of his body, &c.” Again, in Chapman's translation of the twenty-third book of Homer's Iliad: “&lblank; so over labour'd were “His goodly lineaments with chase of Hector, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 410 8This comes too near &c.] In former editions: This comes too near the praising of myself; Therefore no more of it; here other things, Lorenzo, I commit, &c. Portia finding the reflections she had made came too near self-praise, begins to chide herself for it; says, She'll say no more of that sort; but call a new subject. The regulation I have made in the text was likewise prescrib'd by Dr. Thirlby. Theobald.

Note return to page 411 9In speed to Mantua:] Thus all the old copies; and thus all the modern editors implicitly after them. But 'tis evident to any diligent reader, that we must restore, as I have done. In speed to Padua: for it was there, and not at Mantua, Bellario liv'd. So afterwards;—A messenger, with letters from the Doctor, now come from Padua—And again, Come you from Padua, from Bellario?—And again, It comes from Padua, from Bellario.—Besides, Padua, not Mantua, is the place of education for the civil law in Italy. Theobald.

Note return to page 412 1Unto the traject,] The old copies concur in reading, Unto the tranect, which appears to be derived from tranare, and was probably a word current in the time of our author, though I can produce no example of it. Steevens.

Note return to page 413 2I could not do with all;] For the sense of the word do in this place, see a note on Measure for Measure, act I. Collins.

Note return to page 414 3Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother:] Alluding to the well-known line of a modern Latin poet, Philippe Gualtier, in his poem entitled L'Alexandreide: “Incidis in Scyllam cupiens vitare Charybdim.” Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0339 Shakespeare might have met with a translation of this line in many places. Among others in “A Dialogue between Custom and Veritie, concerning the use and abuse of Dauncing and Minstrelsie.” bl. l. no date: “While Silla they doo seem to shun, “In Charibd they doo fall, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 4It is much that the Moor should be more, &c.] This reminds us of the quibbling epigram of Milton, which has the same kind of humour to boast of: “Galli ex concubitu gravidam te Pontia Mori,   Quis bene moratam morigeramque negat? So, in the Fair Maid of the West, 1615: “And for you Moors thus much I mean to say, “I'll see if more I eat the more I may.” Steevens.

Note return to page 416 5Goodly lord,] Surely this should be corrected Good lord! as it is in Theobald's edition. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 417 6How his words are suited!] I believe the meaning is: What a series or suite of words he has independent of meaning; how one word draws on another without relation to the matter. Johnson.

Note return to page 418 7&lblank; his envy's reach,] Envy in this place means hatred or malice. So, in Reynolds's God's Revenge against Murder, 1621: “&lblank; he never looks on her (his wife) with affection, but envy.” p. 109. edit. 1679. Steevens.

Note return to page 419 8apparent] That is, seeming; not real. Johnson.

Note return to page 420 9where for whereas. Johnson.

Note return to page 421 1Enough to press a royal merchant down,] We are not to imagine the word royal to be only a ranting sounding epithet. It is used with great propriety, and shews the poet well acquainted with the history of the people whom he here brings upon the stage. For when the French and the Venetians, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, had won Constantinople, the French under the emperor Henry, endeavoured to extend their conquests into the provinces of the Grecian empire on the Terra Firma; while the Venetians, who were masters of the sea, gave liberty to any subjects of the republic, who would fit out vessels, to make themselves masters of the isles of the Archipelago, and other maritime places; and to enjoy their conquests in sovereignty; only doing homage to the republick for their several principalities. By virtue of this licence, the Sanudos, the Justiniani, the Grimaldi, the Summaripos, and others, all Venetian merchants, erected principalities in several places of the Archipelago, (which their descendants enjoyed for many generations) and thereby became truly and properly royal merchants. Which indeed was the title generally given them all over Europe. Hence, the most eminent of our own merchants (while publick spirit resided amongst them, and before it was aped by faction) were called royal merchants. Warburton. This epithet was in our poet's time more striking and better understood, because Gresham was then commonly dignified with the title of the royal merchant. Johnson.

Note return to page 422 2&lblank; I'll not answer that: But, say, it is my humour; &lblank;] This Jew is the strangest fellow. He is asked a question; says he will not answer it; in the very next line says, he has answered it, and then spends the ten following lines to justify and explain his answer. Who can doubt then, but we should read: &lblank; I'll now answer that, By saying, 'tis my humour. Warburton. Dr. Warburton has mistaken the sense. The Jew being asked a question which the law does not require him to answer, stands upon his right, and refuses; but afterwards gratifies his own malignity by such answers as he knows will aggravate the pain of the enquirer. I will not answer, says he, as to a legal or serious question, but since you want an answer, will this serve you? Johnson.

Note return to page 423 3&lblank; a gaping pig;] So, in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 1623: “He could not abide to see a pig's head gaping; “I thought your grace would find him out a Jew.” Again, in the Mastive, &c. or, A Collection of Epigrams and Satires: “Darkas cannot endure to see a cat “A breast of mutton, or a pig's head gaping.” Steevens. Some men there are, love not a gaping pig; Some that are mad, &c.] By a gaping pig, Shakespeare, I believe, meant a pig prepared for the table; for in that state is the epithet, gaping, most applicable to this animal. A passage in one of Nashe's pamphlets, (which, perhaps furnished our author with his instance) may serve to confirm the observation: “The causes conducting unto wrath are as diverse as the actions of a man's life. Some will take on like a madman, if they see a pig come to the table. Sotericus the surgeon was cholerick at the sight of sturgeon, &c.” Pierce Pennyless his Supplication to the Devil, 1595. Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0341

Note return to page 424 4Cannot contain their urine, &c.] Mr. Rowe reads: Cannot contain their urine for affection, Masterless passion sways it to the mood Of what it likes, or loaths. Masterless passion Mr. Pope has since copied. I don't know what word there is to which this relative it is to be referred. Dr. Thirlby would thus adjust the passage: Cannot contain their urine; for affection, Master of passion, sways it, &c. And then it is govern'd of passion: and the two old quartos and folios read—Masters of passion, &c. It may be objected, that affection and passion mean the same thing. But I observe, the writers of our author's age made a distinction: as Jonson in Sejanus: “&lblank; He hath studied “Affection's passions, knows their springs and ends.” And then, in this place, affection will stand for that sympathy or antipathy of soul, by which we are provok'd to shew a liking or disgust in the working of our passions. Theobald. Masterless passion sways it to the mood] The two old quartos and folio read: Masters of passion. And this is certainly right. He is speaking of the power of sound over the human affections, and concludes, very naturally, that the masters of passion (for so he finely calls the musicians) sway the passions or affections as they please. Alluding to what the ancients tell us of the feats that Timotheus and other musicians worked by the power of music. Can any thing be more natural? Warburton. Does not the verb sway, which governs the two nominative cases affection and masters, require that both should be plural, and consequently direct us to read thus? For affections, masters of passion sway it, &c. Sir John Hawkins. That affections and passions anciently had different significations, may be known from the following instance in Greene's Never too Late, 1616: “His heart was fuller of passions than his eyes of affections.” Affections, as used by Shylock, seem to signify imaginations, or prejudices. In Othello, act I. is a passage somewhat similar. “And though we have here a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safe voice on you.” Steevens. As for affection, those that know how to operate upon the passions of men, rule it by making it operate in obedience to the notes which please or disgust it. Johnson. Sways, which is the reading both of the quarto and folio, seems strong against Dr. Johnson's explication of this passage; for it cannot agree with masters as a substantive. Might we not read? &lblank; for affection Masters our passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loaths. I understand by passion in this place, corporal sensation. So, in Rowley's When you see me you know me, 1632: “To invocate her sound and prosperous health By heaven's fair help in child-bed passions.” For affection, i. e. the natural and involuntary disposition or aversion of the mind to any object, governs and regulates the sensations of our bodies: makes us feel or suffer, according as the mind either likes or loaths its object. This interpretation, and the reading now proposed, are strongly supported by the following passage in All's Well that ends Well: “&lblank; Come, come, disclose “The state of your affections; for your passions “Have to the full appeach'd.” Hellen, whose passions are here said to have betrayed her affection, on the first mention of her love, grew pale and wept. Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0342

Note return to page 425 5Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; &lblank;] This incident Shakespeare seems to have taken from J. C. Scaliger's Exot. Exercit. against Cardan. A book that our author was well read in, and much indebted to for a great deal of his physics: it being then much in vogue, and indeed is excellent, though now long since forgot. In his 344 Exercit. sect. 6. he has these words: “Narrabo nunc tibi jocosam Sympathiam Reguli Vasconis equitis. Is dum viveret, audito phormingis sono, urinam illico facere cogebatur.”—And to make this jocular story still more ridiculous, Shakespeare, I suppose, translated phorminx by bag-pipes. But what I would chiefly observe from hence is this, that as Scaliger uses the word Sympathiam which signifies, and so he interprets it, communem affectionem duabus rebus, so Shakespeare translates it by affection: Cannot contain their urine for affection. Which shews the truth of the preceding emendation of the text according to the old copies; which have a full stop at affection, and read Masters of passion. Warburton. In an old translation from the French of Peter de Loier, intitled, A Treatise of Spectres, or strange Sights, Visions, &c. we have this identical story from Scaliger; and what is still more, a marginal note gives us in all probability the very fact alluded to, as well as the word of Shakespeare. “Another gentleman of this quality lived of late in Devon, neere Excester, who could not endure the playing on a bag-pipe.” We may justly add, as some observation has been made upon it, that affection in the sense of sympathy, was formerly technical; and so used by lord Bacon, sir K. Digby, and many other writers. Farmer. Woollen bag-pipe;] As all the editors agree with complete uniformity in this reading, I can hardly forbear to imagine that they understood it. But I never saw a woollen bag-pipe, nor can well conceive it. I suppose the authour wrote wooden bag-pipe, meaning that the bag was of leather, and the pipe of wood. Johnson. This passage is clear from all difficulty, if we read swelling or swollen bag-pipe, which, that we should, I have not the least doubt. Sir John Hawkins. Woollen is used as a term of contempt in Coriolanus, who says, act III. sc. ii. his mother used to call the plebeians woollen vassals; and yet I think the same epithet hardly applicable to the bagpipe. Steevens.

Note return to page 426 6&lblank; you question &c.] To question is to converse. So, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; in the loss of question &lblank;” i. e. conversation that leads to nothing. To reason had anciently the same meaning. Steevens.

Note return to page 427 7many a purchas'd slave,] This argument considered as used to the particular persons, seems conclusive. I see not how Venetians or Englishmen, while they practise the purchase and sale of slaves, can much enforce or demand the law of doing to others as we would that they should do to us. Johnson.

Note return to page 428 8&lblank; Bellario, a learned doctor, Whom I have sent for &lblank;] The doctor and the court are here somewhat unskilfully brought together. That the duke would, on such an occasion, consult a doctor of great reputation, is not unlikely, but how should this be foreknown by Portia? Johnson.

Note return to page 429 9Not on thy soal, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,] This lost jingle Mr. Theobald found again; but knew not what to make of it when he had it, as appears by his paraphrase, Though thou thinkest that thou art whetting thy knife on the soal of thy shoe, yet it is upon thy soul, thy immortal part. Absurd! the conceit is, that his soul was so hard that it had given an edge to his knife. Warburton.

Note return to page 430 1Of thy sharp envy.] Envy again in this place, signifies hatred or malice. Steevens.

Note return to page 431 2&lblank; inexorable dog;] All the copies read—inexecrable. Steevens.

Note return to page 432 3Cannot impugn you,] To impugn is to oppose, to controvert. So, in the Tragedy of Darius, 1603: “Yet though my heart would fain impugn my word.” Again: “If any press t' impugn what I impart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 433 4You stand within his danger,] So, in the Corvysor's Play, among the collection of Whitsun Mysteries represented at Chester. See MS. Harl. 1013, p. 106: “Two detters some tyme there were “Oughten money to one usurere, “The one was in his daungere “Fyve hundred poundes tolde.” Steevens.

Note return to page 434 5Malice bears down truth.] Malice oppresses honesty, a true man in old language is an honest man. We now call the jury good men and true. Johnson.

Note return to page 435 6I take this offer then.] Perhaps we should read—his, i. e. Bassanio's, who offers twice the sum, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 436 7Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.] This judgment is related by Gracian, the celebrated Spanish jesuit, in his Hero, with a reflexion at the conclusion of it. “—Compite con la del Salomon la promptitud de aquel gran Turco. Pretendia un Judio cortar una onca de carne a un Christiano, pena sobre usura. Insistia en ello con igual terqueria a su Principe que perfidia a su Dios. Mando el gran Juez traer pesa, y cuchillo; cominole el deguello si cortava mas ni menos. Y fue dar agudo corte a la lid, y al mundo milagro del ingenio.” El Heroe de Lorenzo Gracian. Primor. 3. Gregorio Leti, in his Life of Sixtus V. has a similar story. The papacy of Sixtus began in 1583. He died Aug. 29, 1590. The reader will find an extract from Farnworth's Translation, at the conclusion of the play. Steevens.

Note return to page 437 8I am content, &c.] The terms proposed have been misunderstood. Anthonio declares, that as the duke quits one half of the forfeiture, he is likewise content to abate his claim, and desires not the property but the use or produce only of the half, and that only for the Jew's life, unless we read, as perhaps is right, upon my death. Johnson.

Note return to page 438 9&lblank; thou should'st have had ten more,] i. e. a jury of twelve men, to condemn thee to be hanged. Theobald. So, in The Devil is an Ass, by Ben Jonson: “&lblank; I will leave you “To your godfathers in law. Let twelve men work.” Steevens.

Note return to page 439 1&lblank; grace of pardon; Thus the old copies: the modern editors read, less harshly, but without authority, &lblank; your grace's pardon. The same kind of expression occurs in Othello.—I humbly do beseech you of your pardon. In the notes to As you Like It, and The Midsummer Night's Dream, I have given repeated instances of this phraseology. I will add one from Gower De Confessione Amantis, b. ii. and another from Warner's Albion's England, b. viii. chap. 41: “And with the senatour alone “He spake, and pray'd him of a bone.” “I pray the queen of pardon, whom I pardon from my heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 440 2&lblank; upon more advice,] i. e. more reflection. Steevens.

Note return to page 441 3Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan wall,] This image is from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, 5 B. 666 and 1142: “Upon the wallis fast eke would he walke, “And on the Grekis host he would yse &c. “The daie goth fast, and after that came eve,   “And yet came not to Troïlus Cresseide, “He lokith forth, by hedge, by tre, by greve,   “And ferre his heade ovir the walle he leide, &c.” Again, ibid: “And up and doune by west and eke by est,   “Upon the wallis made he many a went.” Steevens.

Note return to page 442 4In such a night, stood Dido with a willow in her hand] This passage contains a small instance out of many that might be brought to prove that Shakespeare was no reader of the classicks. Steevens.

Note return to page 443 5In such a night, &c.] So, Gower, speaking of Medea: “Thus it befell upon a night “Whann there was nought but sterre light “She was vanished right as hir list, “That no wight but herself wist: “And that was at midnight tide, “The world was still on every side, &c. Confessio Amantis, 1554. Steevens.

Note return to page 444 6&lblank; She doth stray about By holy crosses,] So, in the Merry Devil of Edmonton: “But there are Crosses, wife; here's one in Waltham, “Another at the Abbey, and the third “At Ceston; and 'tis ominous to pass “Any of these without a Pater-noster.” and this is a reason assigned for the delay of a wedding. Steevens.

Note return to page 445 7&lblank; sweet soul.] These two words should certainly be taken from the end of Launcelot's speech, and placed at the beginning of the following speech of Lorenzo: Sweet soul, let's in, &c. Mr. Pope, I see, has corrected this blunder of the old edition, but he has changed soule into love, without any necessity. Tyrwhitt. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0348

Note return to page 446 8&lblank; with patterns of bright gold;] We should read patens: a round broad plate of gold borne in heraldry. Warburton. Pattens is the reading of the first folio, and pattents of the quarto. Patterns is printed first in the folio 1632. Johnson. One of the quartos 1600 reads pattens, the other pattents. Steevens.

Note return to page 447 9Such harmony is in immortal souls;] But the harmony here described is that of the spheres, so much celebrated by the antients. He says, the smallest orb sings like an angel; and then subjoins, such harmony is in immortal souls: but the harmony of angels is not here meant, but of the orbs. Nor are we to think, that here the poet alludes to the notion, that each orb has its intelligence or angel to direct it; for then with no propriety could he say, the orb sung like an angel: he should rather have said, the angel in the orb sung. We must therefore correct the lines thus: Such harmony is in immortal sounds: i. e. in the musick of the spheres. Warburton. This passage is obscure. Immortal sounds is a harsh combination of words, yet Milton uses a parallel expression: Spiritus & rapidos qui circinat igneus orbes, Nunc quoque sidereis intercinit ipse choreis Immortale melos, & inenarrabile carmen. It is proper to exhibit the lines as they stand in the copies of the first, second, third, and fourth editions, without any variation, for a change has been silently made by Rowe, and adopted by all the succeeding editors: Such harmony is in immortal souls, But while this muddy vesture of decay Doth grosly close in it, we cannot hear it. That the third is corrupt must be allowed, but it gives reason to suspect that the original was: Doth grosly close it in. Yet I know not whether from this any thing better can be produced than the received reading. Perhaps harmony is the power of perceiving harmony, as afterwards, Musick in the soul is the quality of being moved with concord of sweet sounds. This will somewhat explain the old copies, but the sentence is still imperfect; which might be completed by reading: Such harmony is in th' immortal soul, But while this muddy vesture of decay Doth grosly close it in, we cannot hear it. Johnson. Part of the difficulty of this passage was occasioned by a wrong punctuation. There should be a full point after cherubim, and no note of admiration after souls. “Such harmony, &c.” is not an exclamation arising from the foregoing line—“So great is the harmony!” but a simile or illustration:—“of the same kind is the harmony.”—The whole runs thus: There is not one of the heavenly orbs but sings as it moves, still quiring to the Cherubims. Similar to the harmony they make, is that of immortal souls; (or in other words) each of us have as perfect a harmony in our souls as the harmony of the spheres, inasmuch as we have the quality of being moved by sweet sounds; (as he expresses it afterwards) but our gross terrestrial part, which environs us, deadens the sound, and prevents our hearing it. This saves all the confusion which Dr. Warburton has introduced, who refers souls to orbs, and, not being able to reconcile them, changes the latter [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 448 for, latter, read, former.

Note return to page 449 1&lblank; wake Diana with a hymn;] Diana is the moon, who is in the next scene represented as sleeping. Johnson.

Note return to page 450 2The man that hath no musick in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,] The thought here is extremely fine: as if the being affected with musick was only the harmony between the internal [musick in himself] and the external musick [concord of sweet sounds] which were mutually affected like unison strings. This whole speech could not chuse but please an English audience, whose great passion, as well then as now, was love of musick. Jam verò video naturam (says Erasmus in praise of folly) ut singulis nationibus, ac pene civitatibus, communem quandam insevisse Philautiam: atque hinc fieri, ut Britanni præter alia Formam, musicam, & lautas Mensas propriè sibi vindicent. Warburton. This passage, which is neither pregnant with physical or moral truth, nor poetically beautiful in an eminent degree, has constantly enjoyed the good fortune to be repeated by those whose inhospitable memories would have refused to admit or retain any other sentiment or description of the same author, however exalted or just. The truth is, that it furnishes the vacant fidler with something to say in defence of his profession, and supplies the coxcomb in music, with an invective against such as do not pretend to discover all the various powers of language in inarticulate sounds. Our ancient statutes have often received their best comment by means of reference to the particular occasion on which they were framed. Dr. Warburton has therefore properly accounted for Shakespeare's seeming partiality to this amusement. He might have added, that Peacham requires of his Gentleman only to be able “to sing his part sure, and at first sight, and withal to play the same on a viol or lute.” Let not, however, this capricious sentiment of Shakespeare descend to posterity, unattended by the opinion of the late lord Chesterfield on the same subject. In his 148th Letter to his son, who was then at Venice, his lordship, after having enumerated music among the illiberal pleasures, adds—“if you love music, hear it; go to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I must insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very frivolous contemptible light; brings him into a great deal of bad company, and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much better employed. Few things would mortify me more, than to see you bearing a part in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in your mouth.” Again, Letter 153, “A taste of sculpture and painting is, in my mind, as becoming as a taste of fiddling and piping is unbecoming a man of fashion. The former is connected with history and poetry, the latter with nothing that I know of, but bad company.” Again,—“Painting and sculpture are very justly called liberal arts; a lively and strong imagination, together with a just observation, being absolutely necessary to excel in either; which, in my opinion, is by no means the case of music, though called a liberal art, and now in Italy placed above the other two; a proof of the decline of that country.” Ibidem. Steevens.

Note return to page 451 3&lblank; without respect;] Not absolutely good, but relatively good as it is modified by circumstances. Johnson.

Note return to page 452 4A tucket] Toccata, Ital. a flourish on a trumpet. Steevens.

Note return to page 453 5Let me give light, &c.] There is scarcely any word with which Shakespeare so much delights to trifle as with light, in its various significations. Johnson. Most of the old dramatic writers are guilty of the same quibble. So, Marston in his Insatiate Countess, 1631: “By this bright light that is deriv'd from thee &lblank; “So, sir, you make me a very light creature.” Again, Middleton, in A Mad World my Masters, 1608: “&lblank; more lights—I call'd for light: here come in two are light enough for a whole house.” Again, in Springes for Woodcocks, a collection of epigrams, 1606: “Lais of lighter metal is compos'd “Than hath her lightness till of late disclos'd; “For lighting where she light acceptance feels, “Her fingers there prove lighter than her heels.” Steevens.

Note return to page 454 6Like cutler's poetry;] Knives were formerly inscribed by means of aqua fortis with short sentences in distich. In the works of Tom Brown are some satirical verses on the lyric odes, as they are called, of D'Urfey, containing the following stanza: “Thou write pindarics and be damm'd,   “Write epigrams for Cutlers; “None with thy lyrics will be shamm'd,   “But chambermaids and butlers!” Sir John Hawkins.

Note return to page 455 7&lblank; have been respective.] Respective has the same meaning as respectful. See K. John, act I. Steevens. So, in Chapman's Two Wise Men and all the rest Fools, 1619: “Didst thou not mark how he entreated me with respective terms?” Again, in the 2d Part of Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602, Mario says— “I give the duke most respective thanks.” Malone.

Note return to page 456 8&lblank; a youth, A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, A prating boy, &c.” It is certain from the words of the context and the tenor of the story, that Gratiano does not here speak contemptuously of the judge's clerk, who was no other than Nerissa disguised in man's cloaths. He only means to describe the person and appearance of this supposed youth, which he does by insinuating what seemed to be the precise time of his age: he represents him as having the look of a young stripling, of a boy beginning to advance towards puberty. I am therefore of opinion, that the poet wrote: &lblank; a little stubbed boy. In many counties it is a common provincialism, to call young birds not yet fledged stubbed young ones. But, what is more to our purpose, the author of The History and Antiquities of Glastonbury, printed by Hearne, an antiquarian, and a plain unaffected writer, says, that “Saunders must be a stubbed boy, if not a man at the dissolution of abbeys, &c.” edit. 1722. Pref. Signat. n. 2. It therefore seems to have been a common expression for stripling, the very idea which the speaker means to convey. If the emendation be just here, we should also correct Nerissa's speech which follows: For that same stubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, did lie with me last night. Mr. Warton. I believe scrubbed and stubbed have a like meaning, and signify stunted or shrub-like. So, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. “&lblank; but such will never prove fair trees, but shrubs only.” Steevens.

Note return to page 457 9&lblank; retain &lblank;] The old copies concur in reading contain. Johnson.

Note return to page 458 1What man &lblank; wanted the modesty To urge the thing held as a ceremony?] This is a very licentious expression. The sense is, What man could have so little modesty or wanted modesty so much, as to urge the demand of a thing kept on an account in some sort religious. Johnson. Thus Calphurnia says to Julius Cæsar: “Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies.” Steevens.

Note return to page 459 2Swear by your double self,] Double is here used for—full duplicity. [Subnote: for, full duplicity, read, full of duplicity.] Malone.

Note return to page 460 3&lblank; for his wealth;] For his advantage; to obtain his happiness. Wealth was, at that time, the term opposite to adversity, or calamity. Johnson.

Note return to page 461 4&lblank; you drop manna in the way Of starved people.] Shakespeare is not more exact in any thing, than in adapting his images with propriety to his speakers; of which he has here given an instance in making the young Jewess call good fortune, manna. Warburton. The commentator should have remarked, that this speech is not, even in his own edition, the speech of the Jewess. Johnson.

Note return to page 462 [5] 5It has been lately discovered, that this fable is taken from a story in the Pecorone of Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, a novellist, who wrote in 1378. The story has been published in English, and I have epitomized the translation. The translator is of opinion, that the choice of the caskets is borrowed from a tale of Boccace, which I have likewise abridged, though I believe that Shakespeare must have had some other novel in view. Johnson. There lived at Florence, a merchant whose name was Bindo. He was rich, and had three sons. Being near his end, he called for the two eldest, and left them heirs: to the youngest he left nothing. This youngest, whose name was Giannetto, went to his father, and said, What has my father done? The father replied, Dear Giannetto, there is none to whom I wish better than to you. Go to Venice to your godfather, whose name is Ansaldo; he has no child, and has wrote to me often to send you thither to him. He is the richest merchant amongst the Christians: if you behave well, you will be certainly a rich man. The son answered, I am ready to do whatever my dear father shall command: upon which he gave him his benediction, and in a few days died. Giannetto went to Ansaldo, and presented the letter given by the father before his death. Ansaldo reading the letter, cried out, My dearest godson is welcome to my arms. He then asked news of his father. Giannetto replied, He is dead. I am much grieved, replied Ansaldo, to hear of the death of Bindo; but the joy I feel, in seeing you, mitigates my sorrow. He conducted him to his house, and gave orders to his servants, that Giannetto should be obeyed, and served with more attention than had been paid to himself. He then delivered him the keys of his ready money; and told him, Son, spend this money, keep a table, and make yourself known: remember, that the more you gain the good will of every body, the more you will be dear to me. Giannetto now began to give entertainments. He was more obedient and courteous to Ansaldo, than if he had been an hundred times his father. Every body in Venice was fond of him. Ansaldo could think of nothing but him; so much was he pleased with his good manners and behaviour. It happened, that two of his most intimate acquaintance designed to go with two ships to Alexandria, and told Giannetto, he would do well to take a voyage and see the world. I would go willingly, said he, if my father Ansaldo will give leave. His companions go to Ansaldo, and beg his permission for Giannetto to go in the spring with them to Alexandria; and desire him to provide him a ship. Ansaldo immediately procured a very fine ship, loaded it with merchandize, adorned it with streamers, and furnished it with arms; and, as soon as it was ready, he gave orders to the captain and sailors to do every thing that Giannetto commanded. It happened one morning early, that Giannetto saw a gulph, with a fine port, and asked the captain how the port was called? He replied, That place belongs to a widow lady, who has ruined many gentlemen. In what manner? says Giannetto. He answered, This lady is a fine and beautiful woman, and has made a law, that whoever arrives here is obliged to go to bed with her, and if he can have the enjoyment of her, he must take her for his wife, and be lord of all the country; but if he cannot enjoy her, he loses every thing he has brought with him. Giannetto, after a little reflection, tells the captain to get into the port. He was obeyed; and in an instant they slide into the port so easily that the other ships perceived nothing. The lady was soon informed of it, and sent for Giannetto, who waited on her immediately. She, taking him by the hand, asked him who he was? whence he came? and if he knew the custom of the country? He answered, That the knowledge of that custom was his only reason for coming. The lady paid him great honours, and sent for barons, counts, and knights in great numbers, who were her subjects, to keep Giannetto company. These nobles were highly delighted with the good breeding and manners of Giannetto; and all would have rejoiced to have him for their lord. The night being come, the lady said, it seems to be time to go to bed. Giannetto told the lady, he was entirely devoted to her service; and immediately two damsels enter with wine and sweetmeats. The lady intreats him to taste the wine: he takes the sweet-meats, and drinks some of the wine, which was prepared with ingredients to cause sleep. He then goes into the bed, where he instantly falls asleep, and never wakes till late in the morning, but the lady rose with the sun, and gave orders to unload the vessel, which she found full of rich merchandize. After nine o'clock the women servants go to the bed-side, order Giannetto to rise and be gone, for he had lost the ship. The lady gave him a horse and money, and he leaves the place very melancholy, and goes to Venice. When he arrives, he dares not return home for shame: but at night goes to the house of a friend, who is surprised to see him, and inquiries of him the cause of his return? He answers, his ship had struck on a rock in the night, and was broke in pieces. This friend, going one day to make a visit to Ansaldo, found him very disconsolate. I fear, says Ansaldo, so much, that this son of mine is dead, that I have no rest. His friend told him, that he had been shipwreck'd, and had lost his all, but that he himself was safe. Ansaldo instantly gets up and runs to find him. My dear son, said he, you need not fear my displeasure; it is a common accident; trouble yourself no further. He takes him home, all the way telling him to be chearful and easy. The news was soon known all over Venice, and every one was concerned for Giannetto. Some time after, his companions arriving from Alexandria very rich, demanded what was become of their friend, and having heard the story, ran to see him, and rejoiced with him for his safety; telling him that next spring, he might gain as much as he had lost the last. But Giannetto had no other thoughts than of his return to the lady; and was resolved to marry her, or die. Ansaldo told him frequently, not to be cast down. Giannetto said, he should never be happy, till he was at liberty to make another voyage. Ansaldo provided another ship of more value than the first. He again entered the port of Belmonte, and the lady looking on the port from her bed-chamber, and seeing the ship, asked her maid, if she knew the streamers? the maid said, it was the ship of the young man who arrived the last year. You are in the right, answered the lady; he must surely have a great regard for me, for never any one came a second time: the maid said, she had never seen a more agreeable man. He went to the castle, and presented himself to the lady; who, as soon as she saw him embraced him, and the day was passed in joy and revels. Bed-time being come, the lady entreated him to go to rest: when they were seated in the chamber, the two damsels enter with wine and sweet-meats; and having eat and drank of them, they go to bed, and immediately Giannetto falls asleep, the lady undressed, and lay down by his side; but he waked not the whole night. In the morning, the lady rises, and gives orders to strip the ship. He has a horse and money given to him, and away he goes, and never stops till he gets to Venice; and at night goes to the same friend, who with astonishment asked him what was the matter? I am undone, says Giannetto. His friend answered, You are the cause of the ruin of Ansaldo, and your shame ought to be greater than the loss you have suffered. Giannetto lived privately many days. At last he took the resolution of seeing Ansaldo, who rose from his chair, and running to embrace him, told him he was welcome: Giannetto with tears returned his embraces. Ansaldo heard his tale: do not grieve, my dear son, says he, we have still enough: the sea enriches some men, others it ruins. Poor Giannetto's head was day and night full of the thoughts of his bad success. When Ansaldo enquired what was the matter, he confessed, he could never be contented till he should be in a condition to regain all that he lost. When Ansaldo found him resolved, he began to sell every thing he had, to furnish this other fine ship with merchandize: but, as he wanted still ten thousand ducats, he applied himself to a Jew at Mestri, and borrowed them on condition, that if they were not paid on the feast of St. John in the next month of June, that the Jew might take a pound of flesh from any part of his body he pleased. Ansaldo agreed, and the Jew had an obligation drawn, and witnessed, with all the form and ceremony necessary; and then counted him the ten thousand ducats of gold, with which Ansaldo bought what was still wanting for the vessel. This last ship was finer and better freighted than the other two, and his companions made ready for their voyage, with a design that whatever they gained should be for their friend. When it was time to depart, Ansaldo told Giannetto, that since he well knew of the obligation to the Jew, he entreated, that if any misfortune happened, he would return to Venice, that he might see him before he died; and then he could leave the world with satisfaction: Giannetto promised to do every thing that he conceived might give him pleasure. Ansaldo gave him his blessing, they took their leave, and the ships set out. Giannetto had nothing in his head but to steal into Belmonte; and he prevailed with one of the sailors in the night to sail the vessel into the port. It was told the lady, that Giannetto was arrived in port. She saw from the window the vessel, and immediately sent for him. Giannetto goes to the castle, the day is spent in joy and feasting; and to honour him, a tournament is ordered, and many barons and knights tilted that day. Giannetto did wonders, so well did he understand the lance, and was so graceful a figure on horseback: he pleased so much, that all were desirous to have him for their lord. The lady, when it was the usual time, catching him by the hand, begged him to take his rest. When he passed the door of the chamber, one of the damsels in a whisper said to him, Make a pretence to drink the liquor, but touch not one drop. The lady said, I know you must be thirsty, I must have you drink before you go to bed: immediately two damsels entered the room, and presented the wine. Who can refuse wine from such beautiful hands? cries Giannetto: at which the lady smiled. Giannetto takes the cup, and making as if he drank, pours the wine into his bosom. The lady thinking he had drank, says aside to herself with great joy, You must go, young man, and bring another ship, for this is condemned. Giannetto went to bed, and began to snore as if he slept soundly. The lady perceiving this, laid herself down by his side. Giannetto loses no time, but turning to the lady, embraces her, saying, Now am I in possession of my utmost wishes. When Giannetto came out of his chamber, he was knighted, and placed in the chair of state, had the sceptre put into his hand, and was proclaimed sovereign of the country, with great pomp and splendour; and when the lords and ladies were come to the castle, he married the lady in great ceremony. Giannetto governed excellently, and caused justice to be administered impartially. He continued some time in his happy state, and never entertained a thought of poor Ansaldo, who had given his bond to the Jew for ten thousand ducats. But one day, as he stood at the window of the palace with his bride, he saw a number of people pass along the piazza, with lighted torches in their hands. What is the meaning of this? says he. The lady answered, They are artificers, going to make their offerings at the church of St. John, this day being his festival. Giannetto instantly recollected Ansaldo, gave a great sigh, and turned pale. His lady enquired the cause of his sudden change. He said, he felt nothing. She continued to press with great earnestness, till he was obliged to confess the cause of his uneasiness, that Ansaldo was engaged for the money, that the term was expired; and the grief he was in was lest his father should lose his life for him: that if the ten thousand ducats were not paid that day, he must lose a pound of his flesh. The lady told him to mount on horseback, and go by land the nearest way, to take some attendants, and an hundred thousand ducats; and not to stop till he arrived at Venice; and if he was not dead, to endeavour to bring Ansaldo to her. Giannetto takes horse with twenty attendants, and makes the best of his way to Venice. The time being expired, the Jew had seized Ansaldo, and insisted on having a pound of his flesh. He entreated him only to wait some days, that if his dear Giannetto arrived, he might have the pleasure of embracing him: the Jew replied he was willing to wait; but, says he, I will cut off the pound of flesh, according to the words of the obligation. Ansaldo answered, that he was content. Several merchants would have jointly paid the money; the Jew would not hearken to the proposal, but insisted that he might have the satisfaction of saying, that he had put to death the greatest of the Christian merchants. Giannetto making all possible haste to Venice, his lady soon followed him in a lawyer's habit, with two servants attending her. Giannetto, when he came to Venice, goes to the Jew, and (after embracing Ansaldo) tells him, he is ready to pay the money, and as much more as he should demand. The Jew said, he would take no money, since it was not paid at the time due; but that he would have the pound of flesh. Every one blamed the Jew; but as Venice was a place where justice was strictly administered, and the Jew had his pretensions grounded on publick and received forms, their only resource was entreaty; and when the merchants of Venice applied to him, he was inflexible. Giannetto offered him twenty thousand, then thirty thousand, afterwards forty, fifty, and at last an hundred thousand ducats. The Jew told him, if he would give him as much gold as Venice was worth, he would not accept it; and says he, you know little of me, if you think I will desist from my demand. The lady now arrives at Venice, in her lawyer's dress; and alighting at an inn, the landlord asks of one of the servants who his master was? The servant answered, that he was a young lawyer who had finished his studies at Bologna. The landlord upon this shews his guest great civility: and when he attended at dinner, the lawyer enquiring how justice was administered in that city, he answered, justice in this place is too severe, and related the case of Ansaldo. Says the lawyer, this question may be easily answered. If you can answer it, says the landlord, and save this worthy man from death, you will get the love and esteem of all the best men of this city. The lawyer caused a proclamation to be made, that whoever had any law matters to determine, they should have recourse to him: so it was told to Giannetto, that a famous lawyer was come from Bologna, who could decide all cases in law. Giannetto proposed to the Jew to apply to this lawyer. With all my heart, says the Jew; but let who will come, I will stick to my bond. They came to this judge, and saluted him. Giannetto did not remember him: for he had disguised his face with the juice of certain herbs. Giannetto, and the Jew, each told the merits of the cause to the judge; who, when he had taken the bond and read it, said to the Jew, I must have you take the hundred thousand ducats, and release this honest man, who will always have a grateful sense of the favour done to him. The Jew replied, I will do no such thing. The judge answered, it will be better for you. The Jew was positive to yield nothing. Upon this they go to the tribunal appointed for such judgments: and our judge says to the Jew, Do you cut a pound of this man's flesh where you chuse. The Jew ordered him to be stripped naked; and takes in his hand a razor, which had been made on purpose. Giannetto seeing this, turning to the judge, this, says he, is not the favour I asked of you. Be quiet, says he, the pound of flesh is not yet cut off. As soon as the Jew was going to begin, Take care what you do, says the judge, if you take more or less than a pound, I will order your head to be struck off: and beside, if you shed one drop of blood, you shall be put to death. Your paper makes no mention of the shedding of blood; but says expresly, that you may take a pound of flesh, neither more nor less. He immediately sent for the executioner to bring the block and ax; and now, says he, if I see one drop of blood, off goes your head. At length the Jew, after much wrangling, told him, Give me the hundred thousand ducats, and I am content. No, says the judge, cut off your pound of flesh according to your bond: why did not you take the money when it was offered? The Jew came down to ninety, and then to eighty thousand: but the judge was still resolute. Giannetto told the judge to give what he required, that Ansaldo might have his liberty: but he replied, let me manage him. Then the Jew would have taken fifty thousand: he said, I will not give you a penny. Give me at least, says the Jew, my own ten thousand ducats, and a curse confound you all. The judge replies, I will give you nothing: if you will have the pound of flesh, take it; if not, I will order your bond to be protested and annulled. The Jew seeing he could gain nothing, tore in pieces the bond in a great rage. Ansaldo was released, and conducted home with great joy by Giannetto, who carried the hundred thousand ducats to the inn to the lawyer. The lawyer said, I do not want money; carry it back to your lady, that she may not say, that you have squandered it away idly. Says Giannetto, my lady is so kind, that I might spend four times as much without incurring her displeasure. How are you pleased with the lady? says the lawyer. I love her better than any earthly thing, answers Giannetto: nature seems to have done her utmost in forming her. If you will come and see her, you will be surprised at the honours she will shew you. I cannot go with you, says the lawyer; but since you speak so much good of her, I must desire you to present my respects to her. I will not fail, Giannetto answered; and now, let me entreat you to accept of some of the money. While he was speaking, the lawyer observed a ring on his finger, and said, if you will give me this ring, I shall seek no other reward. Willingly, says Giannetto; but as it is a ring given me by my lady, to wear for her sake, I have some reluctance to part with it, and she, not seeing it on my finger, will believe, that I have given it to a woman. Says the lawyer, she esteems you sufficiently to credit what you tell her, and you may say you made a present of it to me; but I rather think you want to give it to some former mistress here in Venice. So great, says Giannetto, is the love and reverence I bear to her, that I would not change her for any woman in the world. After this he takes the ring from his finger, aud presents it to him. I have still a favour to ask, says the lawyer. It shall be granted, says Giannetto. It is, replied he, that you do not stay any time here, but go as soon as possible to your lady. It appears to me a thousand years till I see her, answered Giannetto: and immediately they take leave of each other. The lawyer embarked, and left Venice. Giannetto took leave of his Venetian friends, and carried Ansaldo with him, and some of his old acquaintance accompanied them. The lady arrived some days before; and having resumed her female habit, pretended to have spent the time at the baths; and now gave order to have the streets lined with tapestry: and when Giannetto and Ansaldo were landed, all the court went out to meet them. When they arrived at the palace, the lady ran to embrace Ansaldo, but feigned anger against Giannetto, though she loved him excessively: yet the feastings, tilts, and diversions went on as usual, at which all the lords and ladies were present. Giannetto seeing that his wife did not receive him with her accustomed good countenance, called her, and would have saluted her. She told him, she wanted none of his caresses: I am sure, says she, you have been lavish of them to some of your former mistresses. Giannetto began to make excuses. She asked him where was the ring she had given him? It is no more than what I expected, cries Giannetto, and I was in the right to say you would be angry with me; but, I swear, by all that is sacred, and by your dear self, that I gave the ring to the lawyer who gained our cause. And I can swear, says the lady, with as much solemnity, that you gave the ring to a woman: therefore swear no more. Giannetto protested that what he had told her was true, and that he said all this to the lawyer, when he asked for the ring. The lady replied, you would have done much better to stay at Venice with your mistresses, for I fear they all wept when you came away. Giannetto's tears began to fall, and in great sorrow he assured her, that what she supposed could not be true. The lady seeing his tears, which were daggers in her bosom, ran to embrace him, and in a fit of laughter shewed the ring, and told him, that she was herself the lawyer, and how she obtained the ring. Giannetto was greatly astonished, finding it all true, and told the story to the nobles and to his companions; and this heightened greatly the love between him and his lady. He then called the damsel who had given him the good advice in the evening not to drink the liquor, and gave her to Ansaldo for a wife: and they spent the rest of their lives in great felicity and contentment. Ruggieri de Figiovanni took a resolution of going, for some time, to the court of Alfonso king of Spain. He was graciously received, and living there some time in great magnificence, and giving remarkable proofs of his courage, was greatly esteemed. Having frequent opportunities of examining minutely the behaviour of the king, he observed, that he gave, as he thought, with little discernment, castles, and baronies, to such who were unworthy of his favours; and to himself, who might pretend to be of some estimation, he gave nothing: he therefore thought the fittest thing to be done, was to demand leave of the king to return home. His request was granted, and the king presented him with one of the most beautiful and excellent mules, that had ever been mounted. One of the king's trusty servants was commanded to accompany Ruggieri, and riding along with him, to pick up, and recollect every word he said of the king, and then mention that it was the order of his sovereign, that he should go back to him. The man watching the opportunity, joined Ruggieri when he set out, said he was going towards Italy, and would be glad to ride in company with him. Ruggieri jogging on with his mule, and talking of one thing or other, it being near nine o'clock, told his companion, that they would do well to put up their mules a little, and as soon as they entered the stable, every beast, except his, began to stale. Riding on further; they came to a river, and watering the beasts, his mule staled in the river: you untoward beast, says he, you are like your master, who gave you to me. The servant remembered this expression, and many others as they rode on all day together; but he heard not a single word drop from him, but what was in praise of the king. The next morning Ruggieri was told the order of the king, and instantly turned back. When the king had heard what he had said of the mule, he commanded him into his presence, and with a smile, asked him, for what reason he had compared the mule to him. Ruggieri answered, My reason is plain, you give where you ought not to give, and where you ought to give, you give nothing; in the same manner the mule would not stale where she ought, and where she ought not, there she staled. The king said upon this, If I have not rewarded you as I have many, do not entertain a thought that I was insensible to your great merit; it is Fortune who hindered me; she is to blame, and not I; and I will shew you manifestly that I speak truth. My discontent, sir, proceeds not, answered Ruggieri, from a desire of being enriched but from your not having given the smallest testimony to my deserts in your service: nevertheless your excuse is valid, and I am ready to see the proof you mention, though I can easily believe you without it. The king conducted him to a hall, where he had already commanded two large caskets, shut close, to be placed: and before a large company told Ruggieri, that in one of them was contained his crown, scepter, and all his jewels, and that the other was full of earth: choose which of them your like best, and then you will see that it is not I, but your fortune that has been ungrateful. Ruggieri chose one. It was found to be the casket full of earth. The king said to him with a smile, Now you may see Ruggieri, that what I told you of fortune is true; but for your sake, I will oppose her with all my strength. You have no intention, I am certain, to live in Spain, therefore I will offer you no preferment here, but that casket which fortune denied you, shall be yours in despite of her: carry it with you into your own country, shew it to your friends, and neighbours, as my gift to you; and you have my permission to boast, that it is a reward of your virtues.

Note return to page 463 Of The Merchant of Venice the style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construction. The comick part raises laughter, and the serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of two actions in one event is in this drama eminently happy. Dryden was much pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, I believe, the critick will find excelled by this play. Johnson.

Note return to page 464 10903002P. III. The Merchant of Venice.] The ancient ballad, on which the greater part of this play is probably founded, has been mentioned in Observations on the Faery Queen, l. 129. Shakespeare's track of reading may be traced in the common books and popular stories of the times, from which he manifestly derived most of his plots. Historical songs, then very fashionable, often suggested and recommended a subject. Many of his incidental allusions also relate to pieces of this kind, which are now grown valuable on this account only, and would otherwise have been deservedly forgotten. A ballad is still remaining on the subject of Romeo and Juliet, which by the date appears to be much older than Shakespeare's time. It is remarkable, that all the particulars in which that play differs from the story in Bandello, are found in this ballad. But it may be said, that he has copied this story as it stands in Paynter's Pallace of Pleasure, 1567, where there is the same variation of circumstances. This, however, shews us that Shakespeare did not first alter the original story for the worse, and is at least a presumptive proof that he never saw the Italian. Shakespeare alludes to the tale of King Cophetua and the Beggar, more than once. This was a ballad; the oldest copy of which, that I have seen, is in A Crown Garland of golden Roses gathered out of England's royall Garden, 1612. The collector of this miscellany was Richard Johnson, who compiled, from various romances, The Seven Champions. This story of Cophetua was in high vogue, as appears from our author's manner of introducing it in Love's Labour's Lost, act IV. sc. i. As likewise from John Marston's Satires, called the Scourge of Villanie, printed 1598, viz. “Go buy some ballad of the fairy king, “And of the beggar wench some rogie thing.” Sign. B. ii. The first stanza of the ballad begins thus: “I read that once in Africa   “A prince that there did raine, “Who had to name Cophetua,   “As poets they do faine, &c.” The prince, or king, falls in love with a female beggar, whom he sees accidentally from the windows of his palace, and afterwards marries her. [Sign. D. 4.] The song, cited at length by the learned Dr. Gray, on this subject, is evidently spurious, and much more modern than Shakespeare's time. The name Cophetua is not once mentioned in it. Notes on Shakespeare, vol. ii. p. 267. However, I suspect, there is some more genuine copy than that of 1612, which I before mentioned. But this point may be, perhaps, adjusted by an ingenious enquirer into our old English literature, who is now publishing a curious collection of ancient ballads, which will illustrate many passages in Shakespeare. I doubt not but he received the hint of writing King Lear from a ballad on that subject. But in most of his historical plays, he copies Hall, Holinshed, and Stowe, the reigning historians of that age. And although these Chronicles were then universally known and read, he did not scruple to transcribe their materials with the most circumstantial minuteness. For this he could not escape an oblique stroke of satire from his envious friend, Ben. Jonson, in the comedy called, The Devil's an Ass, act II. sc. iv. “Fitz-dot. Thomas of Woodstock, I'm sure, was duke: and he was made away at Calice, as duke Humfrey was at Bury. And Richard the Third, you know what end he came to. “Meer-er. By my faith you're cunning in the Chronicle. “Fitz-dot. No, I confess, I ha't from the play-books, and think they're more authentick.” In Antony Wood's collection of ballads, in the Ashmolean Museum, I find one with the following title: “The lamentable and tragical Historie of Titus Andronicus, with the fall of his five and twenty sons in the wars with the Goths; with the murder of his daughter Lavinia, by the empress's two sons, through the means of a bloody Moor, taken by the sword of Titus in the war: his revenge upon their cruel and inhumane acte.” “You noble mindes and famous martiall wights.” The use which Shakespeare might make of this piece, is obvious. Warton. The two principal incidents of this play are to be found separately in a collection of odd stories, which were very popular, at least five hundred years ago, under the title of Gesta Romanorum. The first, Of the bond, is in ch. xlviii. of the copy, which I chuse to refer to, as the completest of any which I have yet seen. MS. Harl. n. 2270. A knight there borrows money of a merchant, upon condition of forfeiting all his flesh for non-payment. When the penalty is exacted before the judge; the knight's mistress, disguised, in forma viri & vestimentis pretiosis induta, comes into court, and, by permission of the judge, endeavours to mollify the merchant. She first offers him his money, and then the double of it, &c. to all which his answer is—Conventionem meam volo habere. —Puella, cum hoc audisset, ait coram omnibus, Domine mi judex, da rectum judicium super his quæ vobis dixero.—Vos scitis quod miles nunquam se obligabat ad aliud per literam nisi quod mercator habeat potestatem carnes ab ossibus scindere, sine sanguinis effusione, de quo nihil erat prolocutum. Statim mittat manum in eum; si vero sanguinem effuderit, Rex contra eum actionem habet. Mercator, cum hoc audisset, ait; date mihi pecuniam & omnem actionem ei remitto. Ait puella, Amen dico tibi, nullum denarium habebis—pone ergo manum in eum, ita ut sanguinem non effundas. Mercator vero videns se confusum abscessit; & sic vita militis salvata est, & nullum denarium dedit.— The other incident, of the caskets, is in ch. xcix. of the same collection. A king of Apulia sends his daughter to be married to the son of an emperor of Rome. After some adventures, (which are nothing to the present purpose) she is brought before the emperor; who says to her, “Puella, propter amorem filii mei multa adversa sustinuisti. Tamen si digna fueris ut uxor ejus sis cito probabo. Et fecit fieri tria vasa. Primum suit de auro purissimo & lapidibus pretiosis interius ex omni parte, & plenum ossibus mortuorum; & exterius erat subscriptio: Qui me elegerit, in me inveniet quod meruit. Secundum vas erat de argento puro, & gemmis pretiosis, plenum terra; & exterius erat subscriptio: Qui me elegerit, in me inveniet quod natura appetit. Tertium vas de plumbo plenum lapidibus pretiosis interius & gemmis nobilissimis; & exterius erat subscriptio talis: Qui me elegerit, in me inveniet quod deus disposuit. Ista tria ostendit puellæ, & dixit, si unum ex istis elegeris in quo commodum & proficuum est, filium meum habebis. Si vero elegeris quod nec tibi nec aliis est commodum, ipsum non habebis.” The young lady, after mature consideration of the vessels and their inscriptions, chuses the leaden, which being opened, and found to be full of gold and precious stones, the emperor says: “Bona puella, bene elegisti—ideo filium meum habebis.” From this abstract of these two stories, I think it appears sufficiently plain that they are the remote originals of the two incidents in this play. That of the Caskets Shakespeare might take from the English Gesta Romanorum, as Mr. Farmer has observed; and that of the bond might come to him from the Pecorone; but upon the whole I am rather inclined to suspect, that he has followed some hitherto unknown novellist, who had saved him the trouble of working up the two stories into one. Tyrwhitt. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0352 The “History of Gesta Romanorum,” is advertised at the end of the comedy of Mucidorus, 1668, to be sold, among other books, on Saffron-Hill, in Wine-Street, near Hatton-Garden. Again, in Sir Giles Goosecap, 1606: “Then for your lordship's quips and quick jests, why Gesta Romanorum were nothing to them.” Again, in Chapman's May-Day, 1611: “&lblank; one that has read Marcus Aurelius, Gesta Romanorum, the Mirror of Magistrates, &c.” Gregorio Leti, in his Life of Sixtus V. translated by Ellis Farneworth, 1745, has likewise this kind of story. It was currently reported in Rome that Drake had taken and plundered S. Domingo in Hispaniola, and carried off an immense booty: this account came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very considerable merchant in the city, who had large concerns in those parts which he had insured. Upon the receiving this news he sent for the insurer Samson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him with it. The Jew whose interest it was to have such a report thought false, gave many reasons why it could not possibly be true; and at last worked himself up into such a passion, that he said, “I'll lay you a pound of my flesh it is a lie.” Secchi, who was of a fiery hot temper, replied, “If you like it, I'll lay you a thousand crowns against a pound of your flesh that it is true.” The Jew accepted the wager, and articles were immediately executed between them, the substance of which was, “That if Secchi won, he should himself cut the flesh with a sharp knife from whatever part of the Jew's body he pleased.” Unfortunately for the Jew, the truth of the account was soon after confirmed, by other advices from the West-Indies, which threw him almost into distraction; especially when he was informed that Secchi had solemnly sworn he would compel him to the exact literal performance of his contract, and was determined to cut a pound of flesh from that part of his body which it is not necessary to mention. Upon this he went to the governor of Rome, and begged he would interpose in the affair, and use his authority to prevail with Secchi to accept of a thousand pistoles as an equivalent for the pound of flesh: but the governor not daring to take upon him to determine a case of so uncommon a nature, made a report of it to the pope, who sent for them both, and having heard the articles read, and informed himself perfectly of the whole affair from their own mouths, said, “When contracts are made, it is just they should be fulfilled, as we intend this shall. Take a knife, therefore, Secchi, and cut a pound of flesh from any part you please of the Jew's body. We would advise you, however, to be very careful; for if you cut but a scruple or grain more or less than your due, you shall certainly be hanged. Go, and bring hither a knife, and a pair of scales, and let it be done in our presence.” The merchant at these words, began to tremble like an aspin-leaf, and throwing himself at his holiness's feet, with tears in his eyes protested, “It was far from his thoughts to insist upon the performance of the contract.” And being asked by the pope what he demanded; answered, “Nothing, holy father, but your benediction, and that the articles may be torn in pieces.” Then turning to the Jew, he asked him, “What he had to say, and whether he was content.” The Jew answered, “That he thought himself extremely happy to come off at so easy a rate, and that he was perfectly content.” “But we are not content,” replied Sixtus, “nor is there sufficient satisfaction made to our laws. We desire to know what authority you have to lay such wagers? The subjects of princes are the property of the state, and have no right to dispose of their bodies, nor any part of them, without the express consent of their sovereigns.” They were both immediately sent to prison, and the governor ordered to proceed against them with the utmost severity of the law, that others might be deterred by their example from laying any more such wagers.—[The governor interceding for them, and proposing a fine of a thousand crowns each, Sixtus ordered him to condemn them both to death, the Jew for selling his life, by consenting to have a pound of flesh cut from his body, which he said was direct suicide, and the merchant for premeditated murder, in making a contract with the other that he knew must be the occasion of his death.] As Secchi was of a very good family, having many great friends and relations, and the Jew one of the most leading men in the synagogue, they both had recourse to petitions. Strong application was made to cardinal Montalto, to intercede with his holiness at least to spare their lives. Sixtus, who did not really design to put them to death, but to deter others from such practices, at last consented to change the sentence into that of the galleys, with liberty to buy off that too, by paying each of them two thousand crowns, to be applied to the use of the hospital which he had lately founded, before they were released. Life of Sixtus V. Fol. B. vii. p. 293, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 465 1The list of the persons being omitted in the old editions, was added by Mr. Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 466 2As you like it was certainly borrowed, if we believe Dr. Gray, and Mr. Upton, from the Coke's Tale of Gamelyn; which by the way was not printed 'till a century afterward: when in truth the old bard, who was no hunter of MSS. contented himself solely with Lodge's Rosalynd, or, Euphues' Golden Legacye. 4to. 1590. Farmer. Shakespeare has followed Lodge's novel more exactly than is his general custom when he is indebted to such worthless originals; and has sketch'd some of his principal characters, and borrowed a few expressions from it. His imitations, &c. however, are in general too insignificant to merit transcription. It should be observed that the characters of Jaques, the Clown, and Audrey, are entirely of the poet's own formation. Although I have never met with any edition of this comedy before the year 1623, it is evident, that such a publication was at least designed. At the beginning of the second volume of the entries at Stationers' Hall, are placed two leaves of irregular prohibitions, notes, &c. Among these are the following: Aug. 4. “As you Like It, a book to be staied.” “Henry the Fift, a book to be staied.” “Comedy of Much Ado, a book to be staied.” The dates scattered over these pages are from 1596 to 1615. Steevens.

Note return to page 467 3As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but a poor thousand crowns, &c.] The grammar, as well as sense, suffers cruelly by this reading. There are two nominatives to the verb bequeathed, and not so much as one to the verb charged: and yet, to the nominative there wanted, [his blessing] refers. So that the whole sentence is confused and obscure. A very small alteration in the reading and pointing sets all right.—As I remember, Adam, it was upon this my father bequeathed me, &c. The grammar is now rectified, and the sense also; which is this, Orlando and Adam were discoursing together on the cause why the younger brother had but a thousand crowns left him. They agree upon it; and Orlando opens the scene in this manner, As I remember, it was upon this, i. e. for the reason we have been talking of, that my father left me but a thousand crowns; however, to make amends for this scanty provision, he charged my brother on his blessing to breed me well. Warburton. There is, in my opinion, nothing but a point misplaced, and an omission of a word which every hearer can supply, and which therefore an abrupt and eager dialogue naturally excludes. I read thus: As I remember, Adam, it was on this fashion bequeathed me. By will but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou sayest, charged my brother on his blessing, to breed me well. What is there in this difficult or obscure? The nominative my father is certainly left out, but so left that the auditor inserts it, in spite of himself. Johnson. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0353

Note return to page 468 4Stays me here at home, unkept;] We should read stys, i. e. keeps me like a brute. The following words—for call you that keeping—that differs not from the stalling of an ox, confirms this emendation. So Caliban says, “And here you sty me in this hard rock.” Warburton. Sties is better than stays, and more likely to be Shakespeare's. Johnson. So, in Noah's Flood, by Drayton: “And sty themselves up in a little room.” Steevens.

Note return to page 469 5His countenance seems to take from me:] We should certainly read, his discountenance. Warburton. There is no need of change, a countenance is either good or bad. Johnson.

Note return to page 470 6Be better employed, and be nought a while.] Mr. Theobald has here a very critical note; which, though his modesty suffered him to withdraw it from his second edition, deserves to be perpetuated, i. e. (says he) be better employed, in my opinion, in being and doing nothing. Your idleness, as you call it, may be an exercise by which you make a figure, and endear yourself to the world: and I had rather you were a contemptible cypher. The poet seems to me to have that trite proverbial sentiment in his eye, quoted from Attilius, by the younger Pliny and others; satius est otiosum esse quàm nihil agere. But Oliver, in the perverseness of his disposition, would reverse the doctrine of the proverb. Does the reader know what all this means? But 'tis no matter. I will assure him—be nought a while is only a north-country proverbial curse equivalent to, a mischief on you. So the old poet Skelton: “Correct first thy selfe, walke and be nought, “Deeme what thou list, thou knowest not my thought.” But what the Oxford editor could not explain, he would amend, and reads: &lblank; and do aught a while. Warburton. If be nought a while has the signification here given it, the reading may certainly stand; but till I learned its meaning from this note, I read: Be better employed, and be naught a while. In the same sense as we say, it is better to do mischief, than to do nothing. Johnson. Notwithstanding Dr. Warburton's far-fetched explanation, I believe that the words be nought a while, mean no more than this, Be content to be a cypher, till I shall think fit to elevate you into consequence. This was certainly a proverbial saying. I find it in The Storie of King Darius, an interlude, 1565: “Come away, and be nought a whyle, “Or surely I will you both defyle.” Again, in K. Henry IV. P. II. Falstaff says to Pistol: “Nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.” Steevens. Naught is the reading of the folio, but I believe nought was intended; for in the early part of the 17th century, nought was generally spelt naught. So, in the 2d part of Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602: “Whose reeling censure if I value not, “It values naught.” In the edition of the same play, 1633, it stands rightly: “It values nought.” Again, ibid: “He who hath naught that fortune's gripe can seize.” Again: “Naught else but smoke.” Malone.

Note return to page 471 7Albeit, I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.] This is sense indeed, and may be thus understood.—The reverence due to my father is, in some degree, derived to you, as the first-born—But I am persuaded that Orlando did not here mean to compliment his brother, or condemn himself; something of both which there is in that sense. I rather think he intended a satirical reflection on his brother, who by letting him feed with his hinds, treated him as one not so nearly related to old sir Rowland as himself was. I imagine therefore Shakespeare might write,—albeit your coming before me is nearer his revenue, i. e. though you are no nearer in blood, yet it must be owned, indeed, you are nearer in estate. Warburton.

Note return to page 472 8I am no villain:] The word villain is used by the elder brother, in its present meaning, for a worthless, wicked, or bloody man; by Orlando in its original signification, for a fellow of base extraction. Johnson.

Note return to page 473 9The old duke's daughter,] The words old and new which seem necessary to the perspicuity of the dialogue, are inserted from sir T. Hanmer's edition. Johnson. The author of the Revisal is of opinion, that the words which follow, her cousin, sufficiently distinguish the person intended. Steevens.

Note return to page 474 1&lblank; mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel,] The wheel of Fortune is not the wheel of a housewife. Shakespeare has confounded Fortune, whose wheel only figures uncertainty and vicissitude, with the destiny that spins the thread of life, though not indeed with a wheel. Johnson. Shakespeare is very fond of this idea. He has the same in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; and rail so high, “That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 475 2Clo. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Ros. My father's love is enough to honour him:] This reply to the Clown is in all the books placed to Rosalind; but Frederick was not her father, but Celia's: I have therefore ventured to prefix the name of Celia. There is no countenance from any passage in the play, or from the Dramatis Personæ, to imagine, that both the Brother-Dukes were namesakes; and one called the Old, and the other the Younger-Frederick; and without some such authority, it would make confusion to suppose it. Theobald. Mr. Theobald seems not to know that the Dramatis Personæ were first enumerated by Rowe. Johnson.

Note return to page 476 3&lblank; since the little wit, that fools have, was silenc'd,] Shakespeare probably alludes to the use of fools or jesters, who for some ages had been allowed in all courts an unbridled liberty of censure and mockery, and about this time began to be less tolerated. Johnson.

Note return to page 477 4&lblank; laid on with a trowel.] I suppose the meaning is, that there is too heavy a mass of big words laid upon a slight subject. Johnson. This is a proverbial expression which is generally used to signify a glaring falshood. See Ray's Proverbs. Steevens.

Note return to page 478 5You amaze me, ladies:] To amaze, here, is not to astonish or strike with wonder, but to perplex; to confuse, so as to put out of the intended narrative. Johnson.

Note return to page 479 6With bills on their necks,—Be it known unto all men by these presents, &lblank;] The ladies and the fool, according to the mode of with at that time, are at a kind of cross purposes. Where the words of one speaker are wrested by another, in a repartee, to a different meaning. As where the Clown says just before—Nay, if I keep not my rank. Rosalind replies—thou losest thy old smell. So here when Rosalind had said, With bills on their necks, the Clown, to be quits with her, puts in, Know all men by these presents. She spoke of an instrument of war, and he turns it to an instrument of law of the same name, beginning with these words: so that they must be given to him. Warburton. This conjecture is ingenious. Where meaning is so very thin, as in this vein of jocularity, it is hard to catch, and therefore I know not well what to determine; but I cannot see why Rosalind should suppose, that the competitors in a wrestling match carried bills on their shoulders, and I believe the whole conceit is in the poor resemblance of presence and presents. Johnson. With bills on their necks, should be the conclusion of Le Beau's speech. Mr. Edwards ridicules Dr. Warburton, “As if people carried such instruments of war, as bills and guns on their necks, not on their shoulders!” But unluckily the ridicule falls upon himself. Lassels, in his Voyage of Italy, says of Tutors, “Some persuade their pupils, that it is fine carrying a gun upon their necks. But what is still more, the expression is taken immediately from Lodge, who furnished our author with his plot. “Ganimede on a day sitting with Aliena (the assumed names, as in the play) cast up her eye, and saw where Rosader came pacing towards them with his forest-bill on his necke.” Farmer. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0354 The quibble may be countenanced by the following passage in Woman's a Weathercock, 1612: “Good-morrow, taylor, I abhor bills in a morning &lblank; “But thou may'st watch at night with bill in hand.” Again, in Rowley's When you see me you know me, 1613: “Enter King, and Compton, with bills on his back.” Again, in The Pinner of Wakefield, 1599: “And each of you a good bat on his neck.” Again, “&lblank; are you not big enough to bear “Your bats upon your necks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 480 7&lblank; is there any else longs to see this broken musick in his sides?] A stupid error in the copies. They are talking here of some who had their ribs broke in wrestling: and the pleasantry of Rosalind's repartee must consist in the allusion she makes to composing in musick. It necessarily follows therefore, that the poet wrote—set this broken musick in his sides. Warburton. If any change were necessary, I should write, feel this broken musick, for see. But see is the colloquial term for perception or experiment. So we say every day, see if the water be hot; I will see which is the best time; she has tried, and sees that she cannot lift it. In this sense see may be here used. The sufferer can, with no propriety, be said to set the musick; neither is the allusion to the act of tuning an instrument, or pricking a tune, one of which must be meant by setting musick. Rosalind hints at a whimsical similitude between the series of ribs gradually shortening, and some musical instruments, and therefore calls broken ribs, broken musick. Johnson.

Note return to page 481 8&lblank; odds in the men:] Sir T. Hanmer. In the old editions, the man. Johnson.

Note return to page 482 9&lblank; if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment,] Absurd! The sense requires that we should read, —our eyes, and—our judgment. The argument is, Your spirits are too bold, and therefore your judgment deceives you; but did you see and know yourself with our more impartial judgment, you would forbear. Warburton. I cannot find the absurdity of the present reading. If you were not blinded and intoxicated, says the princess, with the spirit of enterprise, if you could use your own eyes to see, or your own judgment to know yourself, the fear of your adventure would counsel you. Johnson.

Note return to page 483 1I beseech you, punish me not &c.] I should wish to read, I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts. Therein I confess myself much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. Johnson.

Note return to page 484 2&lblank; one out of suits with fortune;] This seems an allusion to cards, where he that has no more cards to play of any particular sort is out of suit. Johnson. Out of suits with fortune,] I believe means, turned out of her service, and stripp'd of her livery. Steevens.

Note return to page 485 3Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.] A quintaine was a post or butt set up for several kinds of martial exercises, against which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. The allusion is beautiful, I am, says Orlando, only a quintaine, a lifeless block on which love only exercises his arms in jest; the great disparity of condition between Rosalind and me, not suffering me to hope that love will ever make a serious matter of it. The famous satirist Regnier, who lived about the time of our author, uses the same metaphor, on the same subject, though the thought be different: “Et qui depuis dix ans jusqu'en ses derniers jours, “A soûtenu le prix en l'escrime d'amours; “Lasse en fin de servir au peuple de quintaine, “Elle, &c.” Warburton. This is but an imperfect (to call it no worse) explanation of a beautiful passage. The quintaine was not the object of the darts and arms: it was a stake driven into a field, upon which were hung a shield and other trophies of war, at which they shot, darted, or rode, with a lance. When the shield and the trophies were all thrown down, the quintaine remained. Without this information how could the reader understand the allusion of “&lblank; my better parts “Are all thrown down;” Guthrie.

Note return to page 486 4&lblank; the duke's condition,] The word condition means character, temper, disposition. So Anthonio, the merchant of Venice, is called by his friend the best-conditioned man. Johnson.

Note return to page 487 5&lblank; the shorter:] The old copy reads—the taller. Steevens.

Note return to page 488 6&lblank; for my father's child:] Thus the modern editors, the old editions have it, for my child's father, that is, as it is explained by Mr. Theobald, for my future husband. Johnson.

Note return to page 489 7&lblank; by this kind of chase,] That is, by this way of following the argument. Dear is used by Shakespeare in a double sense for beloved, and for hurtful, hated, baleful. Both senses are authorised, and both drawn from etymology, but properly, beloved is dear, and hateful is dere. Rosalind uses dearly in the good, and Celia in the bad sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 490 8And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous,] This implies her to be somehow remarkably defective in virtue: which was not the speaker's thought. The poet doubtless wrote: &lblank; and shine more virtuous. i. e. her virtues would appear more splendid, when the lustre of her cousin's was away. Warburton. The plain meaning of the old and true reading is, that when she was seen alone, she would be more noted. Johnson.

Note return to page 491 9&lblank; Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:] The poet certainly wrote—which teacheth me. For if Rosalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, she could not lack that love which Celia complains she does. Warburton. Either reading may stand. The sense of the established text is not remote or obscure. Where would be the absurdity of saying, You know not the law which teaches you to do right? Johnson.

Note return to page 492 1&lblank; take your change upon you,] In all the later editions, from Mr. Rowe's to Dr. Warburton's, change is altered to charge, without any reason. Johnson. Charge is the reading of the second folio, and, I should think, upon that authority might very well be admitted into the text, in preference to change. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 493 2&lblank; curtle-axe, or cutlace, a broad sword. Johnson.

Note return to page 494 3I'll have a swashing, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer, for we'll have. Johnson. A swashing outside is an appearance of noisy, bullying valour. Swashing blow is used in Romeo and Juliet. Steevens.

Note return to page 495 4In former editions, Here feel we not the penalty. What was the penalty of Adam, hinted at by our poet? The being sensible of the difference of the seasons. The Duke says, the cold and effects of the winter feelingly persuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the penalty? Doubtless, the text must be restored as I have corrected it: and 'tis obvious in the course of these notes, how often not and but by mistake have chang'd place in our author's former editions. Theobald.

Note return to page 496 5Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:] It was the current opinion in Shakespeare's time, that in the head of an old toad was to be found a stone, or pearl, to which great virtues were ascribed. This stone has been often sought, but nothing has been found more than accidental or perhaps morbid indurations of the skull. Johnson. In a book called A Green Forest, or a Natural History, &c. by John Maplett, 1567, is the following account of this imaginary gem: “In this stone is apparently seene verie often the verie “forme of a tode, with despotted and coloured feete, but those uglye and defusedly. It is available against envenoming.” Again, in J. Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, 1639: “&lblank; in most physicians' heads, “There is a kind of toadstone bred.” &lblank; Again, in Adrasta, or The Woman's Spleen, 1635: “Do not then forget the stone “In the toad, nor serpent's bone, &c.” Pliny, in the 32d book of his Nat. Hist. ascribes many wonderful qualities to a bone found in the right side of a toad, but makes no mention of any gem in its head. Steevens.

Note return to page 497 6I would not change it:] Mr. Upton, not without probability, gives these words to the Duke, and makes Amiens begin: Happy is your grace. Johnson.

Note return to page 498 7Native burghers of this desert city,] In Sidney's Arcadia, the deer are called “the wild burgesses of the forest.” Again, in the 18th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “Where, fearless of the hunt, the hart securely stood, “And every where walk'd free, a burgess of the wood.” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 8&lblank; with forked heads] i. e. with arrows, the points of which were barbed. Steevens.

Note return to page 500 9&lblank; as he lay along Under an oak, &c. “There at the foot of yonder nodding beech “That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, “His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, “And pore upon the brook that babbles by.” Gray's Elegy. Steevens.

Note return to page 501 1&lblank; the big round tears, &c.] It is said in one of the marginal notes to a similar passage in the 13th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion, that “the hart weepeth at his dying: his tears are held to be precious in medicine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 502 2To that which had too much:] Shakespeare has almost the same thought in his Lover's Complaint: “&lblank; in a river &lblank; “Upon whose weeping margin she was set, “Like usury, applying wet to wet.” Again, in K. Henry VI. P. III. act V. sc. iv: “With tearful eyes add water to the sea, “And give more strength to that which hath too much.” Steevens.

Note return to page 503 3&lblank; to cope him] To encounter him; to engage with him. Johnson.

Note return to page 504 4&lblank; the roynish clown,] Roynish from rogneux, Fr. mangy, scurvy. The word is used by Chaucer in the Romaunt of the Rose, 988: “That knottie was and all roinous.” Again, by Dr. Gabriel Harvey, in his Pierce's Supererogation, 4to. 1593. Speaking of Long Meg of Westminster, he says,— “Although she were a lusty bouncing rampe, somewhat like Gallemetta or maid Marian, yet was she not such a roinish rannel, such a dissolute gillian-flirt, &c.” We are not to suppose the word is literally employed by Shakespeare, but in the same sense that the French still use carogne, a term of which Moliere is not very sparing in some of his pieces. Steevens.

Note return to page 505 5&lblank; quail] To quail is to faint, to sink into dejection. So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; which my false spirits “Quail to remember.” Steevens.

Note return to page 506 6&lblank; O you memory] Shakespeare often uses memory for memorial: and Beaumont and Fletcher sometimes. So, in the Humourous Lieutenant: “I knew then how to seek your memories.” Again, in The Atheist's Tragedy, by C. Turner, 1611: “And with his body place that memory “Of noble Charlemont.” Again, in Byron's Tragedy: “That statue will I prize past all the jewels “Within the cabinet of Beatrice, “The memory of my grandame.” Steevens.

Note return to page 507 7In the former editions, The bony priser &lblank;] We should read—bony priser. For this wrestler is characterised for his strength and bulk, not for his gaiety or good-humour. Warburton. So Milton: “Giants of mighty bone.” Johnson. So, in the Romance of Syr Degore, bl. l. no date: “This is a man all for the nones, “For he is a man of great bones.” Bonny, however, may be the true reading. So, in K. Henry VI. P. II. act v: “Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.” Mr. Malone observes, that the word bonny occurs more than once in the novel from which this play of As You Like It is taken. Steevens.

Note return to page 508 8This is no place] Place here signifies a seat, a mansion, a residence. So, in the first Book of Samuel. “Saul set him up a place, and is gone down to Gilgal.” We still use the word in compound with another, as—St. James's place, Rathbone place; and Crosby place in K. Richard III. &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 509 9diverted blood,] Blood turned out of the course of nature. Johnson.

Note return to page 510 1Even with the having:] Even with the promotion gained by service is service extinguished. Johnson.

Note return to page 511 2O Jupiter, how merry are my spirits?] And yet, within the space of one intervening line, she says, she could find in her heart to disgrace her man's apparel, and cry like a woman. Sure, this is but a very bad symptom of the briskness of spirits: rather a direct proof of the contrary disposition. Mr. Warburton and I, concurred in conjecturing it should be, as I have reformed in the text:—how weary are my spirits? And the Clown's reply makes this reading certain. Theobald.

Note return to page 512 3&lblank; I had rather bear with you than bear you.] This jingle is repeated in K. Richard III: “You mean to bear me, not to bear with me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 513 4&lblank; yet I should bear no cross,] A cross was a piece of money stamped with a cross. On this our author is perpetually quibbling. Steevens.

Note return to page 514 4If thou remember'st not the slightest folly,] I am inclined to believe that from this passage Suckling took the hint of his song:   “Honest lover, whosoever,   “If in all thy love there ever “Were one wav'ring thought, thy flame “Were not, even, still the same.   “Know this   “Thou lov'st amiss,   “And to love true “Thou must begin again and love anew, &c. Johnson.

Note return to page 515 6&lblank; batlet, &lblank;] The instrument with which washers beat their coarse cloaths. Johnson.

Note return to page 516 7&lblank; two cods &lblank;] For cods it would be more like sense to read peas, which having the shape of pearls, resembled the common presents of lovers. Johnson. In a schedule of jewels in the 15th vol. of Rymer's Fædera, we find, “Item, two peascoddes of gold, with 17 pearles.” Farmer. Peascods was the ancient term for peas as they are brought to market. So, in Greene's Groundwork of Coneycatching, 1592: “went twice in the week to London, either with fruit or pescods, &c.” Again, in the Shepherd's Slumber, a song published in England's Helicon, 1614: “In pescod time when hound to horne   “Gives ear till buck be kill'd, &c.” Again, in The Honest Man's Fortune, by B. and Fletcher: “Shalt feed on delicates, the first peascods, strawberries.” Steevens.9Q0357

Note return to page 517 8&lblank; weeping tears,] A ridiculous expression from a sonnet in Lodge's Rosalynd, the novel on which this comedy is founded. It likewise occurs in the old anonymous play of the Victories of K. Henry V. Steevens.

Note return to page 518 9&lblank; so is all nature in love, mortal in folly.] This expression I do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort, a great quantity, is used as a particle of amplification; as mortal tall, mortal little. Of this sense I believe Shakespeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, so is all nature in love abounding in folly. Johnson.

Note return to page 519 1And in my voice most welcome shall you be.] In my voice, as far as I have a voice or vote, as far as I have power to bid you welcome. Johnson.

Note return to page 520 2&lblank; rugged;] In old editions ragged. Johnson.

Note return to page 521 3&lblank; to live &lblank;] Modern editions, to lie. Johnson. To live i' the sun, is to labour and “sweat in the eye of Phœbus,” or, vitam agere sub dio; for by lying in the sun, how could they get the food they eat? Tollet.

Note return to page 522 4Duc ad me, &lblank;] For ducdame sir T. Hanmer, very acutely and judiciously, reads duc ad me, That is, bring him to me. Johnson. If duc ad me were right, Amiens would not have asked its meaning, and been put off with “a Greek invocation.” It is evidently a word coined for the nonce. We have here, as Butler says, “One for sense, and one for rhyme.”—Indeed we must have a double rhyme; or this stanza cannot well be sung to the same tune with the former. I read thus: “Ducdamè, Ducdamè, Ducdamè,   “Here shall he see   “Gross fools as he, “An' if he will come to Ami.” That is, to Amiens. Jacques did not mean to ridicule himself. Farmer. Duc ad me seems to be a plain allusion to the burthen of Amiens's song: Come hither, come hither, come hither. That Amiens, who is a courtier, should not understand Latin, or be persuaded it was Greek, is no great matter for wonder. An anonymous correspondent proposes to read—Huc ad me. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0358

Note return to page 523 5&lblank; the first-born of Egypt.] A proverbial expression for high-born persons. Johnson.

Note return to page 524 6&lblank; compact of jars,] i. e. made up of discords. Shakespeare elsewhere says, compact of credit, for made up of credulity. Again, in Woman is a Weathercock, 1612: “&lblank; like gilded tombs “Compacted of jet pillars.” The same expression occurs in Tamburlane, 1590: “Compact of rapine, piracy and spoil.” Steevens.

Note return to page 525 7A motley fool!—a miserable world!] What! because he met a motley fool, was it therefore a miserable world? This is sadly blundered; we should read: “&lblank; a miserable varlet.” His head is altogether running on this fool, both before and after these words, and here he calls him a miserable varlet, notwithstanding he railed on lady Fortune in good terms, &c. Nor is the change we make so great as appears at first sight. Warburton. I see no need of changing fool to varlet, nor, if a change were necessary, can I guess how it should certainly be known that varlet is the true word. A miserable world is a parenthetical exclamation, frequent among melancholy men, and natural to Jaques at the sight of a fool, or at the hearing of reflections on the fragility of life. Johnson.

Note return to page 526 8&lblank; motley's the only wear.] It would not have been necessary to repeat that a motley, or a particoloured coat was anciently the dress of a fool, had not the editor of Ben Jonson's works been mistaken in his comment on the 53d Epigram: “&lblank; where, out of motley's he “Could save that line to dedicate to thee?” Motley, says Mr. Whalley, is the man who out of any odd mixture, or old scraps, could save, &c. whereas it means only, Who but a fool, i. e. one in a suit of motley, &c. So, in Butler's Hudibras, Part I. c. iii. l. 106: “For who, without a cap and bauble, “Would put it to a second proof?” See Fig. XII. in the plate at the end of the first part of K. Henry IV. with Mr. Tollet's explanation. Steevens.

Note return to page 527 9Only suit;] Suit means petition, I believe, not dress. Johnson. The poet meant a quibble. So act V. “Not out of your apparel, but out of your suit. Steevens.

Note return to page 528 1He, that a fool doth wisely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart, &lblank; Seem senseless of the bob: if not, &c.] Besides that the third verse is defective one whole foot in measure, the tenour of what Jaques continues to say, and the reasoning of the passage, shew it no less defective in the sense. There is no doubt, but the two little monosyllables, which I have supplied, were either by accident wanting in the manuscript or by inadvertence were left out. Theobald.

Note return to page 529 2if not, &c.] Unless men have the prudence not to appear touched with the sarcasms of a jester, they subject themselves to his power, and the wise man will have his folly anatomised, that is dissected and laid open by the squandring glances or random shots of a fool. Johnson.

Note return to page 530 3As sensual as the brutish sting] Though the brutish sting is capable of a sense not inconvenient in this passage, yet as it is a harsh and unusual mode of speech, I should read the brutish sty. Johnson. I believe the old reading is the true one. So, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. i. c. 8: “A heard of bulls whom kindly rage doth sting.” Again, b. ii. c. 12: “As if that hunger's point, or Venus sting, “Had them enrag'd.” Again, in Othello: “&lblank; our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 531 4&lblank; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the shew Of smooth civility:] We might read torn with more elegance, but elegance alone will not justify alteration. Johnson.

Note return to page 532 5And know some nurture:] Nurture is education. So, in Greene's Never too Late, 1616: “He shew'd himself as full of nurture as of nature.” Steevens.

Note return to page 533 6And take upon command what help we have,] It seems necessary to read, then take upon demand what help, &c. that is, ask for what we can supply, and have it. Johnson. Upon command, is at your own command. Steevens.

Note return to page 534 7Wherein we play in.] Thus the old copy. Mr. Pope more correctly reads: Wherein we play. Steevens.

Note return to page 535 8His acts being seven labours.] Dr. Warburton observes, that this was no unusual division of a play before our author's time, but forbears to offer any one example in support of his assertion. I have carefully perused almost every dramatic piece antecedent to Shakespeare, or contemporary with him; but so far from being divided into acts, they are almost all printed in an unbroken continuity of scenes. I should add, that there is indeed one play of six acts to be met with, and another of twenty-one; but the second of these is a translation from the Spanish, and never could have been design'd for the stage. In one of the Mysteries of Bale, seven acts may indeed be met with. Steevens.9Q0360

Note return to page 536 9Full of wise saws and modern instances,] It is remarkable that Shakespeare uses modern in the double sense that the Greeks used &grk;&gra;&gria;&grn;&gro;&grst;, both for recens and absurdus. Warburton. I am in doubt whether modern is in this place used for absurd: the meaning seems to be, that the justice is full of old sayings and late examples. Johnson. Modern means trite, common. So, in K. John: “And scorns a modern invocation.” So, in this play, act iv. sc. i: “&lblank; betray themselves to modern censure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 537 1&lblank; The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;] There is a greater beauty than appears at first sight in this image. He is here comparing human life to a stage play, of seven acts (which was no unusual division before our author's time). The sixth he calls the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, alluding to that general character in the Italian comedy, called Il Pantalóne; who is a thin emaciated old man in slippers; and well designed, in that epithet, because Pantalóne is the only character that acts in slippers. Warburton.

Note return to page 538 2&lblank; Set down your venerable burden,] Is it not likely that Shakespeare had in his mind this line of the Metamorphoses? “&lblank; Patremque “Fert humeris, venerabile onus Cythereius heros.” Johnson.

Note return to page 539 3Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen,] This song is designed to suit the duke's exiled condition, who had been ruined by ungrateful flatterers. Now the winter wind, the song says, is to be preferred to man's ingratitude. But why? Because it is not seen. But this was not only an aggravation of the injury, as it was done in secret, not seen, but was the very circumstance that made the keeness of the ingratitude of his faithless courtiers. Without doubt, Shakespeare wrote the line thus: Because thou art not sheen, i. e. smiling, shining, like an ungrateful court-servant, who flatters while he wounds, which was a very good reason for giving the winter wind the preference. So, in the Midsummer Night's Dream: “Spangled star-light sheen.” And several other places. Chaucer uses it in this sense: “Your blissful suster Lucina the shene.” And Fairfax: “The sacred angel took his target shene, “And by the Christian champion stood unseen.” The Oxford editor, who had this emendation communicated to him, takes occasion from thence to alter the whole line thus: Thou causest not that teen. But, in his rage of correction, he forgot to leave the reason, which is now wanting, Why the winter wind was to be preferred to man's ingratitude. Warburton. I am afraid that no reader is satisfied with Dr. Warburton's emendation, however vigorously enforced; and it is indeed enforced with more art than truth. Sheen, i. e. smiling, shining. That sheen signifies shining, is easily proved, but when or where did it signify smiling? yet smiling gives the sense necessary in this place. Sir T. Hanmer's change is less uncouth, but too remote from the present text. For my part, I question whether the original line is not lost, and this substituted merely to fill up the measures and the rhyme. Yet even out of this line, by strong agitation may sense be elicited, and sense not unsuitable to the occacasion. Thou winter wind, says the Duke, thy rudeness gives the less pain, as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us with thy presence, and whose unkindness is therefore not aggravated by insult. Johnson. Though the old text may be tortured into a meaning, perhaps it would be as well to read: Because the heart's not seen. ye harts according to the ancient mode of writing, was easily corrupted. Farmer. If instead of not seen we read foreseen &lblank; Because thou art foreseen, the reason will be just and pertinent. Winter, being foreseen, has less power to hurt us, because we guard against it; but ingratitude, being never foreseen, is for that reason more severely felt. Musgrave.

Note return to page 540 4Though thou the waters warp,] The surface of waters, so long as they remain unfrozen, is apparently a perfect plane; whereas, when they are, this surface deviates from its exact flatness, or warps. This is remarkable in small ponds, the surface of which, when frozen, forms a regular concave; the ice on the sides rising higher than that in the middle. Kenrick. To warp was probably in Shakespeare's time, a colloquial word, which conveyed no distant allusion to any thing else, physical or medicinal. To warp is to turn, and to turn is to change: when milk is changed by curdling, we now say, it is turned: when water is changed or turned by frost, Shakespeare says, it is curdled. To be warp'd is only to be changed from its natural state. Johnson. Dr. Johnson is certainly right. So, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson. “I know not, he's grown out of his garb a-late, he's warp'd.—And so, methinks too, he is much converted.“ Thus the mole is called the mould-warp, because it changes the appearance of the surface of the earth. Again, in the Winter's Tale, act I: “My favour here begins to warp.” Steevens.

Note return to page 541 5An absent argument] An argument is used for the contents of a book, thence Shakespeare considered it as meaning the subject, and then used it for subject in yet another sense. Johnson.

Note return to page 542 6And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands:] “To make an extent of lands,” is a legal phrase, from the words of writ (extendi facias) whereby the sheriff is directed to cause certain lands to be appraised to their full extended value, before he delivers them to the person entitled under a recognizance, &c. in order that it may be certainly known how soon the debt will be paid. Malone.

Note return to page 543 7Expediently,] That is, expeditiously. Johnson.

Note return to page 544 8Thrice-crowned queen of night,] Alluding to the triple character of Proserpine, Cynthia, and Diana, given by some mythologists to the same goddess, and comprised in these memorial lines: “Terret, lustrat, agit, Proserpina, Luna, Diana, “Ima, superna, feras, sceptro, fulgore, sagittis.” Johnson.

Note return to page 545 9Unexpressive] for inexpressible. Johnson. Milton in like manner uses unexpressive for inexpressible: “Harping with loud and solemn quire, “With unexpressive notes to heaven's new-born heir.” Hymn on the Nativity. Malone.

Note return to page 546 1He that hath learned no wit by nature or art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of very dull kindred.] Common sense requires us to read: may complain of gross breeding. The Oxford editor has greatly improved this emendation by reading—bad breeding. Warburton. I am in doubt whether the custom of the language in Shakespeare's time did not authorise this mode of speech, and make complain of good breeding the same with complain of the want of good breeding. In the last line of the Merchant of Venice we find that to fear the keeping is to fear the not keeping. Johnson.

Note return to page 547 2Such a one is a natural philosopher.] The shepherd had said all the philosophy he knew was the property of things, that rain wetted, fire burnt, &c. And the Clown's reply, in a satire on physicks or natural philosophy, though introduced with a quibble, is extremely just. For the natural philosopher is indeed as ignorant (notwithstanding all his parade of knowledge) of the efficient cause of things, as the rustic. It appears, from a thousand instances, that our poet was well acquainted with the physics of his time: and his great penetration enabled him to see this remediless defect of it. Warburton. Shakespeare is responsible for the quibble only, let the commentator answer for the refinement. Steevens.

Note return to page 548 3like an ill-roasted egg,] Of this jest I do not fully comprehend the meaning. Johnson. There is a proverb, that a fool is the best roaster of an egg, because he is always turning it. This will explain how an egg may be damn'd, all on one side; but will not sufficiently shew how Touchstone applies his simile with propriety; unless he means that he who has not been at court is but half educated. Steevens.

Note return to page 549 4Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never, &c.] This reasoning is drawn up in imitation of Friar John's to Panurge in Rabelais. Si tu es Coquu, ergo ta femme sera belle; ergo tu seras bien traité d'elle; ergo tu auras des amis beaucoup; ergo tu seras sauvé. The last inference is pleasantly drawn from the popish doctrine of the intercession of saints, and, I suppose, our jocular English proverb, concerning this matter, was founded in Friar John's logic. Warburton.

Note return to page 550 5Make incision in thee!] To make incision was a proverbial expression then in vogue for, to make to understand. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Humourous Lieutenant: “&lblank; O excellent king, “Thus he begins, thou life and light of creatures, “Angel-ey'd king, vouchsafe at length thy favour; “And so proceeds to incision.” &lblank; i. e. to make him understand what he would be at. Warburton. Till I read Dr. Warburton's note, I thought the allusion had been to that common expression, of cutting such a one for the simples; and I must own, after consulting the passage in the Humourous Lieutenant, I have no reason to alter my supposition. The editors of Beaumont and Fletcher declare the phrase to be unintelligible in that as well as in another play where it is introduced. I find the same expression in Monsieur Thomas: “We'll bear the burthen, proceed to incision, fidler.” Steevens.

Note return to page 551 6Bawd to a bell-wether;] Wether and ram had anciently the same meaning. Johnson.

Note return to page 552 7But the fair of Rosalind.] Thus the old copy. Fair is beauty, complexion. See the notes on a passage in the Midsummer Night's Dream, act I. sc. i. and the Comedy of Errors, act II. sc. i. The modern editors read—the face of Rosalind. Lodge's Novel will likewise support the ancient reading: “Then muse not nymphes though I bemone “The absence of fair Rosalynde, “Since for her faire there is fairer none, &c.” Again, “For perfect faire, she is the only one.” Again, “And for her faire she only doth excell.” Again, “And hers the faire which all men do respect, &c. &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 553 8rate to market.] So sir T. Hanmer. In the former editions rank to market. Johnson. Dr. Gray, as plausibly, proposes to read—rant. Steevens.9Q0363

Note return to page 554 9Why should this desert be?] This is commonly printed: Why should this a desert be? but although the metre may be assisted by this correction, the sense is still defective; for how will the hanging of tongues on every tree, make it less a desert? I am persuaded we ought to read: Why should this desert silent be? Tyrwhitt. The notice which this emendation deserves, I have paid to it, by inserting it in the text. Steevens.

Note return to page 555 1That shall civil sayings show.] Civil is here used in the same sense as when we say civil wisdom or civil life, in opposition to a solitary state, or to the state of nature. This desert shall not appear unpeopled, for every tree shall teach the maxims or incidents of social life. Johnson.

Note return to page 556 2Therefore heaven nature charg'd] From the picture of Apelles, or the accomplishments of Pandora. &grP;&gra;&grn;&grd;&grwa;&grr;&grh;&grn;, &grora;&grt;&gri; &grp;&graa;&grn;&grt;&gre;&gri; &GROs;&grl;&grua;&grm;&grp;&gri;&gra; &grd;&grwa;&grm;&gra;&grt;&grap; &gresa;&grx;&gro;&grn;&grt;&gre;&grst; &grD;&grwc;&grr;&gro;&grn; &gres;&grd;&grwa;&grr;&grh;&grs;&gra;&grn;. &lblank; So, before: “&lblank; But thou “So perfect, and so peerless, art created “Of ev'ry creature's best.” Tempest. Perhaps from this passage Swift had his hint of Biddy Floyd. Johnson.

Note return to page 557 3Atalanta's better part;] I know not well what could be the better part of Atalanta here ascribed to Rosalind. Of the Atalanta most celebrated, and who therefore must be intended here where she has no epithet of discrimination, the better part seems to have been her heels, and the worse part was so bad that Rosalind would not thank her lover for the comparison. There is a more obscure Atalanta, a huntress and a heroine, but of her nothing bad is recorded, and therefore I know not which was her better part. Shakespeare was no despicable mythologist, yet he seems here to have mistaken some other character for that of Atalanta. Johnson. Perhaps the poet means her beauty and graceful elegance of shape, which he would prefer to her swiftness. Thus Ovid: “&lblank; nec dicere posses, “Laude pedum, formæne bono præstantior esset. “Ut faciem, et posito corpus velamine vidit, “Obstupuit &lblank; But can Atalanta's better part [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 558 for,—But can Atalanta's &c. read,—But cannot Atalanta's &c.

Note return to page 559 4Sad] is grave, sober, not light. Johnson.

Note return to page 560 5The touches] The features; les traits.0 Johnson.

Note return to page 561 6I was never so be-rhimed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat,] Rosalind is a very learned lady. She alludes to the Pythagorean doctrine, which teaches that souls transmigrate from one animal to another, and relates that in his time she was an Irish rat, and by some metrical charm was rhymed to death. The power of killing rats with rhymes Donne mentions in his Satires, and Temple in his Treatises. Dr. Gray has produced a similar passage from Randolph: “&lblank; My poets “Shall with a satire, steeped in gall and vinegar, “Rhyme them to death as they do rats in Ireland” Johnson. So, in Dr. Dodypoll, a comedy, 1600: “&lblank; he rhyme de grand rats from my house.” Again, in an address to the reader, at the conclusion of Ben Jonson's Poetaster: “Rhime them to death as they do Irish rats “In drumming tunes.” Steevens. So, in his Staple of News, 1625: “Or the fine madrigal in rhyme, to have run him out of the country like an Irish rat.” Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0365

Note return to page 562 7&lblank; friends to meet;] Alluding ironically to the proverb: “Friends may meet, but mountains never greet.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 8Good my complexion!] This is a mode of expression, Mr. Theobald says, which he cannot reconcile to common sense. Like enough: and so too the Oxford editor. But the meaning is, Hold good my complexion, i. e. let me not blush. Warburton. Dr. Warburton's explanation may be just, but as he gives no example of such a meaning affixed to the words in question, we are still at liberty to suspend our faith till some luckier critic shall decide. All I can add is, that I learn from the glossary to Phil. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. that paint for the face was in Shakespeare's time called complexions. Shakespeare likewise uses complexion for disposition. So, in the Merchant of Venice: “It is the complexion of them all to leave their dam.” Steevens.

Note return to page 564 9One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery.] This is stark nonsense; we must read—off discovery, i. e. from discovery. “If you delay me one inch of time longer, I shall think this secret as far from discovery as the South-sea is.” Warburton. This sentence is rightly noted by the commentator as nonsense, but not so happily restored to sense. I read thus: One inch of delay more is a South-sea. Discover, I pr'ythee; tell me who is it quickly!—When the transcriber had once made discovery from discover, I, he easily put an article after South-sea. But it may be read with still less change, and with equal probability. Every inch of delay more is a South-sea discovery: Every delay, however short, is to me tedious and irksome as the longest voyage, as a voyage of discovery on the South-sea. How much voyages to the South-sea, on which the English had then first ventured, engaged the conversation of that time, may be easily imagined. Johnson. Of for off is frequent in the elder writers. A South-sea of discovery is a discovery a South-sea off—as far as the South-sea. Farmer.

Note return to page 565 1&lblank; Garagantua's mouth] Rosalind requires nine questions to be answered in one word. Celia tells her that a word of such magnitude is too big for any mouth but that of Garagantua the giant of Rabelais. Johnson. Garagantua swallowed five pilgrims, their staves and all, in a sallad. It appears from the books of the Stationers' Company, that in 1592 was published, “Garagantua his Prophecie.” And n 1594, “A booke entitled, The History of Garagantua.” The book of Garagantua is likewise mentioned in Laneham's Narrative of Q. Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle, in 1575. Steevens.

Note return to page 566 2&lblank; I found him under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn.] We should read: Under an oak tree. This appears from what follows—like a dropp'd acorn. For how did he look like a dropp'd acorn unless he was found under an oak tree? And from Rosalind's reply, that it might well be called Jove's tree: for the oak was sacred to Jove. Warburton. What tree but an oak was ever known to drop an acorn? Steevens.

Note return to page 567 3&lblank; but I answer you right painted cloth,] This alludes to the fashion, in old tapestry hangings, of mottos and moral sentences from the mouths of the figures worked or printed in them. The poet again hints at this custom in his poem, called, Tarquin and Lucrere: “Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw, “Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.” Theobald. The same allusion is common to many of our old plays. So, in a Match at Midnight, 1633: “There's a witty posy for you. “—No, no; I'll have one shall savour of a saw. &lblank; “Why then 'twill smell of the painted cloth.” Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “But what says the painted cloth? &lblank; “Trust not a woman when she cries, &c.” Again, in the Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “Now will I see if my memory will serve for some proverbs too. Oh, a painted cloth were as well worth a shilling as a thief is worth a halter.” Again, in Decker's If this be not a good Play the Devil is in It, 1612: “What says the prodigal child in the painted cloth?” Again, in the Muse's Looking-Glass, by Randolph, 1638: “Then for the painting, I bethink myself “That I have seen in Mother Redcap's hall “In painted cloth the story of the prodigal.” From this last quotation we may suppose that the rooms in public houses were usually hung with what Falstaff calls water-work. On these hangings perhaps moral sentences were depicted as issuing from the mouths of the different characters represented. Again, in Sir Thomas More's English Works, printed by Rastell, 1557: “Mayster Thomas More in hys youth devysed in hys father's house in London, a goodly hangyng of fyne paynted clothe, with nyne pageauntes, and verses over every of those pageauntes; which verses expressed and declared what the ymages in those pageauntes represented: and also in those pageauntes were paynted the thynges that the verses over them dyd (in effecte) declare.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Pan's Anniversary, “—hath found it out in a painted cloth, or some old hanging (for those are his library) that we must conquer in such a time, &c.”—Of the present phraseology there is an instance in King John: “He speaks plain cannon fire, and bounce, and smoke.” Steevens. This singular phrase may likewise be justified by another of the same kind in K. Henry V: “I speak to thee plain soldier.” Again, in Twelfth Night: “He speaks nothing but madman. Malone. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0368 Sir T. Hanmer reads, I answer you right, in the style of the painted cloth. Something seems wanting, and I know not what can be proposed better. I answer you right painted cloth, may mean, I give you a true painted cloth answer; as we say, she talks right Billingsgate: that is, exactly such language as is used at Billingsgate. Johnson.

Note return to page 568 4&lblank; in-land man;] Is used in this play for one civilised, in opposition to the rustick of the priest. So, Orlando before—Yet am I in-land bred, and know some nurture. Johnson.

Note return to page 569 5&lblank; a blue eye,] i. e. a blueness about the eyes. Steevens.

Note return to page 570 6&lblank; an unquestionable spirit.] That is, a spirit not inquisitive, a mind indifferent to common objects, and negligent of common occurrences. Here Shakespeare has used a passive for an active mode of speech: so in a former scene, “The Duke is too disputable for me, that is, too disputatious.” Johnson. May it not mean, unwilling to be conversed with? Chamier.

Note return to page 571 7Then your hose should be ungarter'd, &c.] These seem to have been the established and characteristical marks by which the votaries of love were denoted in the time of Shakespeare. So, in the Fair Maid of the Exchange, by Heywood, 1637: “Shall I that have jested at love's sighs, now raise whirlwinds! Shall I, that have flouted ah me's once a quarter, now practise ah me's every minute? Shall I defy hat-bands and tread garters and shoe-strings under my feet? Shall I fall to falling bands, and be a ruffian no longer? I must; I am now liegeman to Cupid, and have read all these informations in his book of statutes.” Again, in A pleasant Comedy how to chuse a good Wife from a bad, 1608: “&lblank; I was once like thee “A sigher, melancholy humorist, “Crosser of arms, a goer without garters, “A hatband-hater, and a busk-point wearer. Malone.

Note return to page 572 8&lblank; point device] i. e. exact, drest with finical nicety. So, in Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, 1610: “If our parrel be not point-device, the fat's i'th' fire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 573 9&lblank; to a living humour of madness;] If this be the true reading we must by living understand lasting, or permanent, but I cannot forbear to think that some antithesis was intended which is now lost; perhaps the passage stood thus, I drove my suitor from a dying humour of love to a living humour of madness. Or rather thus, from a mad humour of love to a loving humour of madness, that is, from a madness that was love, to a love that was madness. This seems somewhat harsh and strained, but such modes of speech are not unusual in our poet: and this harshness was probably the cause of the corruption. Johnson.

Note return to page 574 2Doth my simple feature content you?] says the Clown to Audrey. “Your features, replies the wench. Lord warrant us, what features?” I doubt not, this should be your feature! Lord warrant us, what's feature? Farmer. Feat and feature, perhaps had anciently the same meaning. The Clown asks, if the features of his face content her, she takes the word in another sense, i. e. feats, deeds, and in her reply seems to mean, what feats, i. e. what have we done yet? The courtship of Audrey and her gallant had not proceeded further, as sir Wilful Witwood says, than a little mouth-glew; but she supposes him to be talking of something which as yet he had not performed. Or the jest may turn only on the Clown's pronunciation. In some parts, features might be pronounced, faitors, which signify rascals, low wretches. Pistol uses the word in the second part of K. Henry IV. and Spenser very frequently. Steevens.

Note return to page 575 3&lblank; it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room:] Nothing was ever wrote in higher humour than this simile. A great reckoning, in a little room, implies that the entertainment was mean, and the bill extravagant. The poet here alluded to the French proverbial phrase of the quarter of hour of Rabelais: who said, there was only one quarter of an hour in human life passed ill, and that was between the calling for the reckoning and paying it. Yet the delicacy of our Oxford editor would correct this into, It strikes a man more dead than a great reeking in a little room. This is amending with a vengeance. When men are joking together in a merry humour, all are disposed to laugh. One of the company says a good thing; the jest is not taken; all are silent, and he who said it, quite confounded. This is compared to a tavern jollity interrupted by the coming in of a great reckoning. Had not Shakespeare reason now in this case to apply his simile to his own case, against his critical editor? Who, 'tis plain, taking the phrase to strike dead in a literal sense, concluded, from his knowledge in philosophy, that it could not be so effectually done by a reckoning as by a reeking. Warburton.

Note return to page 576 4&lblank; and what they swear in poetry, &c.] This sentence seems perplexed and inconsequent, perhaps it were better read thus, What they swear as lovers they may be said to feign as poets. Johnson.

Note return to page 577 5A material fool!] A fool with matter in him; a fool stocked with notions. Johnson.

Note return to page 578 6I am foul.] By foul is meant coy or frowning. Hanmer. I rather believe foul to be put for the rustick pronunciation of full. Audrey, supposing the Clown to have spoken of her as a full slut, says, naturally enough, I am not a slut, though, I thank the gods, I am foul, i. e. full. She was more likely to thank the gods for a belly-full, than for her being coy or frowning. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 579 7&lblank; what though?] What then. Johnson.

Note return to page 580 8Sir Oliver] He that has taken his first degree at the university, is in the academical style called Dominus, and in common language was heretofore termed Sir. This was not always a word of contempt; the graduates assumed it in their own writings; so Trevisa the historian writes himself Syr John de Trevisa. Johnson. We find the same title bestowed on many divines in our old comedies. So, in Wily Beguiled: “&lblank; Sir John cannot tend to it at evening prayer; for there comes a company of players to town on Sunday in the afternoon, and Sir John is so good a fellow that I know he'll scarce leave their company to say evening prayer.” Again: “We'll all go to church together, and so save Sir John a labour.” Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0370

Note return to page 581 9&lblank; God'ild you] i. e. God yield you, God reward you. See Macbeth, act I. sc. 6. Steevens.

Note return to page 582 1&lblank; his bow,] i. e. his yoke. Steevens.

Note return to page 583 2Not—O sweet Oliver, O brave &c.] Some words of an old ballad. Warburton. Of this speech, as it now appears, I can make nothing, and think nothing can be made. In the same breath he calls his mistress to be married, and sends away the man that should marry them. Dr. Warburton has very happily observed, that O sweet Oliver is a quotation from an old song; I believe there are two quotations put in opposition to each other. For wind I read wend, the old word for go. Perhaps the whole passage may be regulated thus: Clo. I am not in the mind, but it were better for me to be married of him than of another, for he is not like to marry me well, and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife—Come, sweet Audrey, we must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. [they whisper. Clo. Farewel, good sir Oliver, not O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, leave me not behind thee,—but   Wend away,   Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee to-day. Of this conjecture the reader may take as much as shall appear necessary to the sense, or conducive to the humour. I have received all but the additional words. The song seems to be complete without them. Johnson. The Clown dismisses sir Oliver only because Jaques had alarmed his pride and raised his doubts, concerning the validity of a marriage solemnized by one who appears only in the character of an itinerant preacher. He intends afterwards to have recourse to some other of more dignity in the same profession. Dr. Johnson's opinion, that the latter part of the Clown's speech is only a repetition from some other ballad, or perhaps a different part of the same, is I believe, just. Steevens. O sweet Oliver. The epithet of sweet seems to have been peculiarly appropriated to Oliver, for which perhaps he was originally obliged to the old song before us. No more of it, however, than these two lines seem to be preserved. [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 584 for seem to be preserved, read, has as yet been produced.

Note return to page 585 2Something browner than Judas's: &lblank;] See Mr. Tollet's note and mine, on a passage in the 4th scene of the 1st act of the Merry Wives of Windsor, from both which it appears that Judas was constantly represented in ancient painting or tapestry, with red hair and beard. So, in the Insatiate Countess, 1631: “I ever thought by his red beard he would prove a Judas.” Steevens.

Note return to page 586 3I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.] There is much of nature in this petty perverseness of Rosalind; she finds faults in her lover, in hope to be contradicted, and when Celia in sportive malice too readily seconds her accusations, she contradicts herself rather than suffer her favourite to want a vindication. Johnson.

Note return to page 587 4&lblank; as the touch of holy bread.] We should read beard, that is, as the kiss of an holy saint or hermit, called the kiss of charity: This makes the comparison just and decent; the other impious and absurd. Warburton.

Note return to page 588 5&lblank; a nun of winter's sisterhood] This is finely expressed. But Mr. Theobald says, the words give him no ideas. And 'tis certain, that words will never give men what nature has denied them. However, to mend the matter, he substitutes Winifred's sisterhood. And after so happy a thought, it was to no purpose to tell him there was no religious order of that denomination. The plain truth is, Shakespeare meant an unfruitful sisterhood, which had devoted itself to chastity. For as those who were of the sisterhood of the spring, were the votaries of Venus; those of summer, the votaries of Ceres; those of autumn, of Pomona: so these of the sisterhood of winter were the votaries of Diana; called, of winter, because that quarter is not, like the other three, productive of fruit or increase. On this account it is, that when the poet speaks of what is most poor, he instances it in winter, in these fine lines of Othello: “But riches endless is as poor as winter “To him that ever fears he shall be poor.” The other property of winter that made him term them of its sisterhood is its coldness. So, in the Midsummer Night's Dream: “To be a barren sister all your life, “Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.” Warburton. There is certainly no need of Theobald's conjecture, as Dr. Warburton has most effectually supported the old reading. In one circumstance, however, he may have been mistaken. The Golden Legend, p. CCCI, &c. gives a full account of St. Winifred and her sisterhood. Edit. by Wynkyn de Worde, 1527. Steevens.

Note return to page 589 6&lblank; as concave as a cover'd goblet,] Why a cover'd? Because a goblet is never kept cover'd but when empty. Shakespeare never throws out his expressions at random. Warburton.

Note return to page 590 7&lblank; much question] i. e. conversation. Steevens.

Note return to page 591 8&lblank; quite traverse, athwart, &c.] An unexperienced lover is here compared to a puny tilter, to whom it was a disgrace to have his lance broken across, as it was a mark either of want of courage or address. This happened when the horse flew on one side, in the career: and hence, I suppose, arose the jocular proverbial phrase of spurring the horse only on one side. Now as breaking the lance against his adversary's breast, in a direct line, was honourable, so the breaking it across against his breast was, for the reason above, dishonourable: hence it is, that Sidney, in his Arcadia, speaking of the mock-combat of Clinias and Dametas says, The wind took such hold of his staff that it crost quite over his breast, &c.—And to break across was the usual phrase, as appears from some wretched verses of the same author, speaking of an unskilful tilter: “Methought some slaves he mist: if so, not much amiss: “For when he most did hit, he ever yet did miss, “One said he brake across, full well it so might be, &c.” This is the allusion. So that Orlando, a young gallant, affecting the fashion (for brave is here used, as in other places, for fashionable) is represented either unskilful in courtship, or timorous. The lover's meeting or appointment corresponds to the tilter's career; and as the one breaks staves, the other breaks oaths. The business is only meeting fairly, and doing both with address: and 'tis for the want of this, that Orlando is blamed. Warburton. So, in Northward Hoe, 1607: “—melancholick like a tilter, that had broke his staves foul before his mistress.” Steevens. A puny tilter, that breaks his staff like a noble goose. Sir T. Hanmer altered this to a nose-quill'd goose, but no one seems to have regarded the alteration. Certainly nose-quill'd is an epithet likely to be corrupted: it gives the image wanted, and may in a great measure be supported by a quotation from Turberville's Falconrie. “Take with you a ducke, and slip one of her wing feathers, and having thrust it through her nares, throw her out unto your hawke.” Farmer. Again, in Philaster, by B. and Fletcher: “He shall for this time only be seel'd up “With a feather through his nose, that he may only “See heaven, &c.” Again, in the Booke of Hankyng, Huntyng, and Fyshyng, &c. bl. l. no date: “—and with a pen put it in the haukes nares once or twice, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 592 9&lblank; will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?] This is spoken of the executioner. He lives indeed by bloody drops, if you will: but how does he die by bloody drops? The poet must certainly have wrote—that deals and lives, &c. i. e. that gets his bread by, and makes a trade of cutting off heads: but the Oxford editor makes it plainer. He reads: Than he that lives and thrives by bloody drops. Warburton. Either Dr. Warburton's emendation, except that the word deals, wants its proper construction, or that of sir T. Hanmer, may serve the purpose; but I believe they have fixed corruption upon the wrong word, and should rather read: Than he that dies his lips by bloody drops? Will you speak with more sternness than the executioner, whose lips are used to be sprinkled with blood? The mention of drops implies some part that must be sprinkled rather than dipped. Johnson. I am afraid our bard is at his quibbles again. To dye means as well to dip a thing in a colour foreign to its own, as to expire. In this sense, contemptible as it is, the executioner may be said to die as well as live by bloody drops. Shakespeare is fond of opposing these terms to each other. In K. John is a play on words not unlike this: “&lblank; all with purpled hands “Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes.” Camden has preserved an epitaph on a dyer, which has the same turn: “He that dyed so oft in sport, “Dyed at last, no colour for't.” So Heywood, in his Epigrams, 1562: “Is thy husband a dyer, woman? alack, “Had he no colour to dye thee on but black? “Dieth he oft? yea, too oft when customers call; “But I would have him one day die once for all. “Were he gone, dyer never more would I wed, “Dyers be ever dying, but never dead.” So, Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, 1589: “We once sported upon a country fellow, who came to run for the best game, and was by his occupation a dyer, and had very big swelling legs. “He is but coarse to run a course, “Whose shanks are bigger than his thigh; “Yet is his luck a little worse “That often dyes before he die.” “Where ye see the words course and dye used in divers senses, one giving the rebound to the other.” Steevens. He that lives and dies, i. e. he who to the very end of his life continues a common executioner. So, in the second scene of the fifth act of this play, “live and die a shepherd.” Tollet. To die and live by a thing is to be constant to it, to persevere in it to the end. Lives therefore does not signify is maintained, but the two verbs taken together mean, who is all his life conversant with bloody drops. Musgrave.

Note return to page 593 1The cicatrice and capable impressure] Cicatrice is here not very properly used; it is the scar of a wound. Capable impressure, hollow mark. Johnson.

Note return to page 594 2&lblank; power of fancy,] Fancy is here used for love, as before in the Midsummer Night's Dream. Johnson.

Note return to page 595 3&lblank; Who might be your mother,] It is common for the poets to express cruelty by saying, of those who commit it, that they were born of rocks, or suckled by tigresses. Johnson.

Note return to page 596 4That you insult, exult, and all at once,] If the speaker intended to accuse the person spoken to only for insulting and exulting; then, instead of—all at once, it ought to have been, both at once. But by examining the crime of the person accused, we shall discover that the line is to be read thus; That you insult, exult, and rail at once. For these three things Phebe was guilty of. But the Oxford editor improves it, and, for rail at once, reads domineer. Warburton. I see no need of emendation. The speaker may mean thus: Who might be your mother, that you insult, exult, and that too all in a breath. Such is perhaps the meaning of all at once. Steevens.

Note return to page 597 5&lblank; what though you have no beauty,] Though all the printed copies agree in this reading, it is very accurately observed to me by an ingenious unknown correspondent, who signs himself L. H. (and to whom I can only here make my acknowledgement) that the negative ought to be left out. Theobald. I consider this the old reading as a humourous way of expressing her little share of beauty, or her foulness, as the same person calls it afterwards, and hints it again. So in Ben Jonson's Alchemist, act I. sc. i: “&lblank; a thin thredden cloke “That scarce would cover your no-buttocks.” Tollet. That the reading of the folio is wrong, appears very clearly from this passage in Lodge's Rosalynde, which Shakespeare has here imitated. “Sometimes have I seen high disdaine turned to hot desires.—Because thou art beautiful, be not so coy; as there is nothing more faire, so there is nothing more fading.” Malone.

Note return to page 598 6Of nature's sale-work:] i. e. those works that nature makes up carelessly and without exactness. The allusion is to the practice of mechanicks, whose work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance-customers, or to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work. Warburton.

Note return to page 599 7That can entame my spirits to your worship.] I should rather think that Shakespeare wrote entraine, draw, allure. Warburton. The common reading seems unexceptionable. Johnson. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 600 8Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer:] The only sense of this is, An ill-favour'd person is most ill-favour'd, when if he be ill-favour'd, he is a scoffer. Which is a deal too absurd to come from Shakespeare; who, without question, wrote: Foul is most foul, being found to be a scoffer: i. e. where an ill-favoured person ridicules the defects of others, it makes his own appear excessive. Warburton. The sense of the received reading is not fairly represented; it is, The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers. Johnson.

Note return to page 601 9&lblank; with her foulness,] So, sir T. Hanmer, the other editions, your foulness. Johnson.

Note return to page 602 1&lblank; though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as he.] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. Johnson.

Note return to page 603 3&lblank; swam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes lost their religion. The fashion of travelling, which prevailed very much in our author's time, was considered by the wiser men as one of the principal causes of corrupt manners. It was therefore gravely censured by Ascham in his Schoolmaster, and by bishop Hall in his Quo Vadis; and is here, and in other passages, ridiculed by Shakespeare. Johnson.

Note return to page 604 4A Rosalind of a better leer than you.] i. e. of a better feature, complexion, or colour, than you. So, in P. Holland's Pliny, B. XXXI. c. ii. p. 403: “In some places there is no other thing bred or growing, but brown and duskish, insomuch as not only the cattel is all of that lere, but also the corn on the ground, &c.” The word seems to be derived from the Saxon Hleare, facies, frons, vultus. So it is used in Titus Andronicus, act IV. sc. ii: “Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer.” Tollet.

Note return to page 605 5&lblank; chroniclers of that age] Sir T. Hanmer reads, coroners, by the advice, as Dr. Warburton hints, of some anonymous critick. Johnson. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0372

Note return to page 606 6&lblank; I will laugh like a hyen,] The bark of the hyena very much resembles a loud laugh. So, in Webster's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: “&lblank; Methinks I see her laughing, “Excellent Hyena!” Again, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “You laugh hyena like, weep like a crocodile.” Again, in Green's Never too Late, 1616: “&lblank; weeps with the crocodile, and smiles with the hiena.” Steevens.

Note return to page 607 7&lblank; and that when thou art inclin'd to sleep.] We should read, to weep. Warburton. I know not why we should read to weep. I believe most men would be more angry to have their sleep hindered than their grief interrupted. Johnson.

Note return to page 608 8&lblank; make the doors] This is an expression used in several of the midland counties, instead of bar the doors. So, in the Comedy of Errors: “The doors are made against you.” The modern editors read, “make the doors fast” in this play, and “the doors are barr'd against you” in the other. Steevens.

Note return to page 609 9&lblank; Wit, whither wilt?] This must be some allusion to a story well known at that time, though now perhaps irretrievable. Johnson. This was an exclamation much in use, when any one was either talking nonsense, or usurping a greater share in conversation than justly belonged to him. So, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: “My sweet, Wit whither wilt thou, my delicate poetical fury, &c.” Again, in Heywood's Royal King, 1637: “Wit:—is the word strange to you? Wit? &lblank; “Whither wilt thou?” And again, in More Dissemblers than Women, a comedy by Middleton. Again, in the Preface to Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, 1621: “Wit whither wilt thou? woe is me, “Th' hast brought me to this miserie.” The same expression occurs more than once in Taylor the water-poet, and seems to have been the title of some ludicrous performance. Steevens.

Note return to page 610 1You shall never take her without her answer,] See Chaucer, Marchantes Tale, ver. 10138—10149:   “Ye, sire, quod Proserpine, and wol ye so? “Now by my modre Ceres soule I swere, “That I shal yeve hire suffisant answere, “And alle women after for hire sake; “That though they ben in any gilt ytake, “With face bold they shul hemselve excuse, “And bere hem doun that wolden hem accuse. “For lacke of answere, non of us shul dien. “Al had ye seen a thing with bothe youre eyen, “Yet shul we so visage it hardely, “And wepe and swere and chiden subtilly, “That ye shull ben as lewed as ben gees.” Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 611 2&lblank; make her fault her husband's occasion,] That is, represent her fault as occasioned by her husband. Sir T. Hanmer reads her husband's accusation. Johnson.

Note return to page 612 2I will think you the most pathetical break-promise,] There is neither sense nor humour in this expression. We should certainly read,—atheistical break-promise. His answer confirms it, that he would keep his promise with no less religion, than—; Warburton. I do not see but that pathetical may stand, which seems to afford as much sense and as much humour as astheistical. Johnson. The same epithet occurs again in Love's Labour Lost, and with as little apparent meaning: “&lblank; most pathetical nit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 613 3&lblank; to her own nest.] So, in Lodge's Rosalynde. “And I pray you (quoth Aliena) if your own robes were off, what mettal are you made of that you are so satyricall against women? Is it not a foule bird defiles the owne nest?” Steevens.

Note return to page 614 4His leather skin and horns to wear.] Shakespeare seems to have formed this song on a hint afforded by the novel which furnished him with the plot of his play. “What news, Forrester? Hast thou wounded some deere, and lost him in the fall? Care not, man, for so small a losse; thy fees was but the skinne, the shoulders, and the horns.” Lodge's Rosalynd, or Euphues's Golden Legacie, 1592. For this quotation the reader is indebted to Mr. Malone. Steevens.

Note return to page 615 5Take thou no scorn] In former editions: Then sing him home, the rest shall bear this burden. This is an admirable instance of the sagacity of our preceding editors, to say nothing worse. One should expect, when they were poets, they would at least have taken care of the rhimes, and not foisted in what has nothing to answer it. Now, where is the rhime to, the rest shall bear this burden? Or, to ask another question, where is the sense of it? Does the poet mean, that He, that kill'd the deer, shall be sung home, and the rest shall bear the deer on their backs? This is laying a burden on the poet, that we must help him to throw off. In short, the mystery of the whole is, that a marginal note is wisely thrust into the text: the song being design'd to be sung by a single voice, and the stanzas to close with a burden to be sung by the whole company. Theobald. This note I have given as a specimen of Mr. Theobald's jocularity, and the eloquence with which he recommends his emendations. Johnson.

Note return to page 616 6The foregoing noisy scene was introduced only to fill up an interval, which is to represent two hours. This contraction of the time we might impute to poor Rosalind's impatience, but that a few minutes after we find Orlando sending his excuse. I do not see that by any probable division of the acts this absurdity can be obviated. Johnson.

Note return to page 617 7And here's much Orlando!] Thus the old copy. The modern editors read, but without the least authority. I wonder much, Orlando is not here. Steevens.

Note return to page 618 8Vengeance is used for mischief. Johnson.

Note return to page 619 9Youth and kind] Kind is the old word for nature. Johnson.

Note return to page 620 1&lblank; napkin, i. e. handkerchief.] So, in Othello: “Your napkin is too little.” Steevens.

Note return to page 621 2Within an hour;] We must read, within two hours. Johnson. May not within an hour signify within a certain time? Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 622 3Under an oak, &c.] The passage stands thus in Lodge's Novel. “Saladyne wearie with wandring up and downe, and hungry with long fasting, finding a little cave by the side of a thicket, eating such fruite as the forrest did affoord, and contenting himself with such drinke as nature had provided, and thirst made delicate, after his repast he fell into a dead sleepe. As thus he lay, a hungry lyon came hunting downe the edge of the grove for pray, and espying Saladyne, began to ceaze upon him: but seeing he lay still without any motion, he left to touch him, for that lyons hate to pray on dead carkasses: and yet desirous to have some foode, the lyon lay downe and watcht to see if he would stirre. While thus Saladyne slept secure, fortune that was careful of her champion, began to smile, and brought it so to passe, that Rosader (having stricken a deere that but lightly hurt fled through the thicket) came pacing downe by the grove with a boare speare in his hande in great haste, he spyed where a man lay asleepe, and a lyon fast by him: amazed at this sight, as he stood gazing, his nose on the sodaine bledde, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his. Whereupon drawing more nigh, he might easily discerne his visage, and perceived by his phisnomie that it was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader into a deepe passion, as a man perplexed, &c.—But the present time craved no such doubting ambages: for he must eyther resolve to hazard his life for his reliefe, or else steale away and leave him to the crueltie of the lyon. In which doubt hee thus briefly debated, &c.” Steevens

Note return to page 623 4A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,] So, in Arden of Feversham, 1592: “&lblank; the starven lioness “When she is dry-suckt of her eager young.” Steevens.

Note return to page 624 5&lblank; in which hurtling] To hurtle is to move with impetuosity and tumult. So, in Julius Cæsar: “A noise of battle hurtled in the air.” Again, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599: “—hearing of the gangs of good fellows that hurtled and bustled thither, &c.” Again, in Spenser's Faerie Queen, B. I. c. 4: “All hurtlen forth, and she with princely pace, &c.” Again, B. I. c. 8: “Came hurtling in full fierce, and forc'd the knight retire.” Steevens.

Note return to page 625 6cousin—Ganymed!] Celia in her first fright forgets Rosalind's character and disguise, and calls out cousin, then recollects herself, and says Ganymed. Johnson.

Note return to page 626 7The heathen philosopher, when he desired to eat a grape, &c.] This was designed as a sneer on the several trifling and insignificant sayings and actions, recorded of the ancient philosophers, by the writers of their lives, such as Diogenes Laertius, Philostratus, Eunapius, &c. as appears from its being introduced by one of their wise sayings. Warburton. A book called The Dictes and Sayinges of the Philosophers, was printed by Caxton in 1477. It was translated out of French into English by Lord Rivers. From this performance, or some republication of it, Shakespeare's knowledge of these philosophical trifles might be derived. Steevens.

Note return to page 627 8I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction;] All this seems to be an allusion to sir Thomas Overbury's affair. Warburton. The Revisal justly observes that the affair of poisoning Overbury did not break out till 1615, long after Shakespeare had left the stage, and within a year, or a little more, of his death. Steevens.

Note return to page 628 9Is't possible, &c.] Shakespeare, by putting this question into the mouth of Orlando, seems to have been aware of the impropriety which he had been quilty of by deserting his original. In Lodge's Novel, the elder brother is instrumental in saving Aliena from a band of ruffians, who “thought to steale her away, and to give her to the king for a present, hopeing, because the king was a great leacher, by such a gift to purchase all their pardons.” Without the intervention of this circumstance, the passion of Aliena appears to be very hasty indeed. Steevens.

Note return to page 629 1And you, fair sister.] I know not why Oliver should call Rosalind sister. He takes her yet to be a man. I suppose we should read, and you, and your fair sister. Johnson. Oliver speaks to her in the character she had assumed, of a woman courted by Orlando his brother. Chamier.

Note return to page 630 2Clubs cannot part them.] Alluding to the way of parting dogs in wrath. Johnson.

Note return to page 631 3human as she is,] That is, not a phantom, but the real Rosalind, without any of the danger generally conceived to attend the rites of incantation. Johnson.

Note return to page 632 4Which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician:] Hence it appears this was written in James's time, when there was a severe inquisition after witches and magicians. Warburton.

Note return to page 633 5&lblank; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon.] This is borrowed from Lodge's Rosalynde, 1592: “I tell thee, Montanus, in courting Phœbe, thou barkest with the wolves of Syria against the moone.” Malone.

Note return to page 634 6&lblank; a woman of the world.] To go to the world, is to be married. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “Thus (says Beatrice) every one goes to the world, but I.” Steevens.

Note return to page 635 7The stanzas of this song are in all the editions evidently transposed: as I have regulated them, that which in the former copies was the second stanza is now the last. The same transposition of these stanzas is made by Dr. Thirlby, in a copy containing some notes on the margin, which I have perused by the favour of sir Edward Walpole. Johnson.

Note return to page 636 8&lblank; the pretty rank time,] Thus the modern editors. The old copy reads: In the spring time, the onely pretty rang time. I think we should read: In the spring time, the only pretty ring time. i. e. the aptest season for marriage; or, the word only, for the sake of equality of metre, may be omitted. Steevens.

Note return to page 637 9Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.] Though it is thus in all the printed copies, it is evident from the sequel of the dialogue, that the poet wrote as I have reform'd in the text, untimeable.— Time and tune, are frequently misprinted for one another in the old editions of Shakespeare. Theobald. This emendation is received, I think very undeservedly, by Dr. Warburton. Johnson.

Note return to page 638 1As those that fear they hope and know they fear.] This strange nonsense should be read thus: As those that fear their hap, and know their fear. i. e. As those who fear the issue of a thing when they know their fear to be well grounded. Warburton. The depravation of this line is evident, but I do not think the learned commentator's emendation very happy. I read thus: As those that fear with hope, and hope with fear. Or thus, with less alteration: As those that fear, they hope, and now they fear. Johnson. The author of the Revisal would read: “As those that fear their hope, and know their fear. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0377 I would read: As those that fear, then hope; and know then fear. Musgrave.

Note return to page 639 2Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, &c.] What strange beasts? and yet such as have a name in all languages? Noah's ark is here alluded to; into which the clean beasts entered by sevens, and the unclean by two, male and female. It is plain then that Shakespeare wrote, here come a pair of unclean beasts, which is highly humourous. Warburton. Strange beasts are only what we call odd animals. There is no need of any alteration. Johnson.

Note return to page 640 3We found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.] So all the copies; but it is apparent from the sequel that we must read, the quarrel was not upon the seventh cause. Johnson.

Note return to page 641 4God'ild you, sir;] i. e. God yield you, reward you. So, in the Collection of Chester Mysteries, Mercer's Play, p. 74. b: “The high father of heaven, I pray, “To yelde you your good deed to day.” See MS. Harl. Brit. Mus. 2013. Steevens.

Note return to page 642 5&lblank; I desire you of the like.] We should read, I desire of you the like. On the Duke's saying, I like him very well, he replies, I desire you will give me cause that I may like you too. Warburton. I have not admitted the alteration, because there are other examples of this mode of expression. Johnson. See a note on the first scene of the third act of the Midsummer Night's Dream, where many examples of this phraseology are given. So, in Spencer's Faery Queen, B. II. c . 9: “If it be I, of pardon I you pray.” Again, B. IV. c. 6: “I me submit, and you of pardon pray.” Again, B. IV. c. 8: “She dear besought the prince of remedy.” Again, B. V. c. 2: “She her besought of gracious redress.” Again, B. V. c. 8: “Saying, sir Knight, of pardon I you pray.” Steevens.

Note return to page 643 6According as marriage binds, and blood breaks:] The construction is, to swear as marriage binds. Which I think is not English. I suspect Shakespeare wrote it thus, to swear and to forswear, according as marriage bids and blood bids break. Warburton. I cannot discover what has here puzzled the commentator: to swear according as marriage binds, is to take the oath enjoin'd in the ceremonial of marriage. Johnson.

Note return to page 644 7Dulcet diseases.] This I do not understand. For diseases it is easy to read discourses: but, perhaps the fault may lie deeper. Johnson. Perhaps he calls a proverb a disease. Proverbial sayings may appear to him as the surfeiting diseases of conversation. They are often the plague of commentators. Steevens.

Note return to page 645 8As thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a courtier's beard;] This folly is touched upon with high humour by Fletcher in his Queen of Corinth: “&lblank; Has he familiarly “Dislik'd your yellow starch, or said your doublet “Was not exactly frenchified? &lblank; “&lblank; or drawn your sword, “Cry'd 'twas ill mounted? Has he given the lye “In circle, or oblique, or semicircle, “Or direct parallel; you must challenge him.” Warburton.

Note return to page 646 9O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book;] The poet has, in this scene, rallied the mode of formal duelling, then so prevalent, with the highest humour and address: nor could he have treated it with a happier contempt, than by making his clown so knowing in the forms and preliminaries of it. The particular book here alluded to is a very ridiculous treaties of one Vincentio Saviolo, intitled, Of honour and honourable quarrels, in quarto, printed by Wolf, 1594. The first part of this tract he entitles, A discourse most necessary for all gentlemen that have in regard their honours, touching the giving and receiving the lye, whereupon the Duello and the Combat in divers forms doth ensue; and many other inconveniences for lack only of true knowledge of honor, and the right understanding of words, which here is set down. The contents of the several chapters are as follow. I. What the reason is that the party unto whom the lye is given ought to become challenger, and of the nature of lies. II. Of the manner and diversity of lies. III. Of the lye certain, or direct. IV. Of conditional lies, or the lye circumstantial. V. Of the lye in general. VI. Of the lye in particular. VII. Of foolish lies. VIII. A conclusion touching the wresting or returning back of the lye, or the countercheck quarrelsome. In the chapter of conditional lies, speaking of the particle if, he says, “—Conditional lies be such as are given conditionally, thus—if thou hast said so or so, then thou liest. Of these kind of lies, given in this manner, often arise much contention, whereof no sure conclusion can arise.” By which he means, they cannot proceed to cut one an-another's throat, while there is an if between. Which is the reason of Shakespeare making the Clown say, I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel: but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an if, as if you said so, then I said so, and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your if is the only peace-maker; much virtue in if. Caranza was another of these authentic authors upon the Duello. Fletcher in his last act of Love's Pilgrimage ridicules him with much humour. Warburton.

Note return to page 647 1&lblank; books for good manners:] One of these books I have seen. It is entitled The Boke of Nurture, or Schole of good Manners, for Men, Servants, and Children, with stans puer ad mensam; black letter, without date. Steevens.

Note return to page 648 2Like a stalking-horse,] See sir John Hawkins's note on Much Ado about Nothing, act II. sc. ult. Steevens.

Note return to page 649 3Enter Hymen,] Rosalind is imagined by the rest of the company to be brought by enchantment, and is therefore introduced by a supposed aerial being in the character of Hymen. Johnson.

Note return to page 650 4If there be truth in sight,] The answer of Phebe makes it probable that Orlando says, if there be truth in shape: that is, if a form may be trusted; if one cannot usurp the form of another. Johnson.

Note return to page 651 5If truth holds true contents.] That is, if there be truth in truth, unless truth fails of veracity. Johnson.

Note return to page 652 6Wedding is &c.] Catullus, addressing himself to Hymen, has this stanza: Quæ tuis careat sacris,   Non queat dare præsides   Terra finibus: at queat   Te volente. Quis huic deo   Compararier ausit. Johnson.

Note return to page 653 7Duke Frederick, &c.] In Lodge's Novel the usurping duke is not diverted from his purpose by the pious counsels of a hermit, but is subdued and killed by the twelve peers of France, who were brought by the third brother of Rosader (the Orlando of this play) to assist him in the recovery of his right. Steevens.

Note return to page 654 8To see no pastime, I:—what you would have, I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.] Amidst this general festivity, the reader may be sorry to take his leave of Jaques, who appears to have no share in it, and remains behind unreconciled to society. He has, however, filled with a gloomy sensibility the space allotted to him in the play, and to the last preserves that respect which is due to him as a consistent character, and an amiable though solitary moralist. It may be observed, with scarce less concern, that Shakespeare has on this occasion forgot old Adam, the servant of Orlando, whose fidelity should have entitled him to notice at the end of the piece, as well as to that happiness which he would naturally have found, in the return of fortune to his master. Steevens. It is the more remarkable, that old Adam it forgotten; since at the end of the novel, Lodge makes him captaine of the king's guard. Farmer.

Note return to page 655 9&lblank; no bush,] It appears formerly to have been the custom to hang a tuft of ivy at the door of a vintner. I suppose ivy was rather chosen than any other plant, as it has relation to Bacchus. So, in Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575: “Now a days the good wyne needeth none Ivye Garland.” Again, in the Rival Friends, 1632: “'Tis like the ivy-bush unto a tavern.” Again, in Summer's last Will and Testament, 1600: “Green ivy-bushes at the vintners' doors.” Steevens.

Note return to page 656 1&lblank; What a case am I in then, &c.] Here seems to be a chasm, or some other depravation, which destroys the sentiment here intended. The reasoning probably stood thus, Good wine needs no bush, good plays need no epilogue, but bad wine requires a good bush, and a bad play a good epilogue. What case am I in then? To restore the words is impossible; all that can be done without copies is, to note the fault. Johnson.

Note return to page 657 2&lblank; furnish'd like a beggar,] That is dressed: so before, he was furnished like a huntsman. Johnson.

Note return to page 658 3&lblank; I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women,—that between you and the women, &c.] This passage should be read thus, I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases them; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, —to like as much as pleases them, that between you and the women, &c. Without the alteration of You into Them the invocation is nonsense; and without the addition of the words, to like as much as pleases them, the inference of, that between you and the women the play may pass, would be unsupported by any precedent premises. The words seem to have been struck out by some senseless player, as a vicious redundancy. Warburton. The words you and ym written as was the custom in that time, were in manuscript scarcely distinguishable. The emendation is very judicious and probable. Johnson.

Note return to page 659 4&lblank; If I were a woman,] Note that in this authour's time the parts of women were always performed by men or boys. Hanmer.

Note return to page 660 5Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give away their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven for the heroism of her friendship. The character of Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comick dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low buffoonery than in some other plays; and the graver part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to the end of his work, Shakespeare suppressed the dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson in which he might have found matter worthy of his highest powers. Johnson.

Note return to page 661 1We have hitherto supposed Shakespeare the author of the Taming of the Shrew, but his property in it is extremely disputable. I will give my opinion, and the reasons on which it is founded. I suppose then the present play not originally the work of Shakespeare, but restored by him to the stage, with the whole Induction of the Tinker; and some other occasional improvements; especially in the character of Petruchio. It is very obvious that the Induction and the Play were either the works of different hands, or written at a great interval of time. The former is in our author's best manner, and a great part of the latter in his worst, or even below it. Dr. Warburton declares it to be certainly spurious; and without doubt supposing it to have been written by Shakespeare, it must have been one of his earliest productions. Yet it is not mentioned in the list of his works by Meres in 1598. I have met with a facetious piece of sir John Harrington, printed in 1596, (and possibly there may be an earlier edition) called The Metamorphoses of Ajax, where I suspect an allusion to the old play; “Read the Booke of Taming a Shrew, which hath made a number of us so perfect, that now every one can rule a shrew in our countrey, save he that hath hir.”—I am aware a modern linguist may object that the word book does not at present seem dramatick, but it was once technically so: Gosson, in his Schoole of Abuse, containing a pleasaunt Inuective against Poets, Pipers, Players, Jesters, and such like Caterpillars of a Commonwealth, 1579, mentions “twoo prose bookes played at the Bell-Sauage:” and Hearne tells us, in a note at the end of William of Worcester, that he had seen a MS. in the nature of a Play or Interlude, intitled the Booke of Sir Thomas Moore.” And in fact there is such an old anonymous play in Mr. Pope's list: “A pleasant conceited history, called, the Taming of a Shrew—sundry times acted by the earl of Pembroke his servants.” Which seems to have been republished by the remains of that company in 1607, when Shakespeare's copy appeared at the Black-Friars or the Globe.—Nor let this seem derogatory from the character of our poet. There is no reason to believe that he wanted to claim the play as his own; for it was not even printed till some years after his death; but he merely revived it on his stage as a manager. In support of what I have said relative to this play, let me only observe further at present, that the author of Hamlet speaks of Gonzago, and his wife Baptista; but the author of the Taming of the Shrew knew Baptista to be the name of a man. Mr. Capell indeed made me doubt, by declaring the authenticity of it to be confirmed by the testimony of sir Aston Cockayn. I knew sir Aston was much acquainted with the writers immediately subsequent to Shakespeare; and I was not inclined to dispute his authority: but how was I surprised, when I found that Cockayn ascribes nothing more to Shakespeare, than the Induction-Wincot-ale and the Beggar! I hope this was only a slip of Mr. Capell's memory. Farmer. The following is sir Aston's Epigram. To Mr. Clement Fisher of Wincot. Shakespeare your Wincot-ale hath much renown'd, That fox'd a beggar so (by chance was found Sleeping) that there needed not many a word To make him to believe he was a lord: But you affirm (and in it seem most eager) 'Twill make a lord as drunk as any beggar. Bid Norton brew such ale as Shakespeare fancies Did put Kit Sly into such lordly trances: And let us meet there (for a fit of gladness) And drink ourselves merry in sober sadness. Sir A. Cockayn's Poems, 1659, p. 124. In spite of the great deference which is due from every commentator to Mr. Farmer's judgment, I own I cannot concur with him on the present occasion. I know not to whom I could impute this comedy, if Shakespeare was not its author. I think his hand is visible in almost every scene, though perhaps not so evidently as in those which pass between Katharine and Petruchio. I once thought that the title of this play might have been taken from an old story, entitled, The Wyf lapped in Morells skin, or The Taming of a Shrew; but I have since discovered among the entries in the books of the Stationers' Company the following. “Peter Shorte] May 2, 1594, a pleasaunt conceyted hystorie called, The Tayminge of a Shrowe.” It is likewise entered to Nich. Ling, Jan. 22, 1606; and to John Smythwicke, Nov. 19, 1607. It was no uncommon practice among the authors of the age of Shakespeare, to avail themselves of the titles of ancient performances. Thus, as Mr. Warton has observed, Spenser sent out his Pastorals under the title of the Shepherd's Kalendar, a work which had been printed by Wynkyn de Worde, and reprinted about twenty years before these poems of Spenser appeared, viz. 1559. Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, is of opinion, that The Frolicksome Duke, or the Tinker's Good Fortune, an ancient ballad in the Pepy's Collection, might have suggested to Shakespeare the Induction for this comedy. Chance, however, has at last furnished me with the original to which Shakespeare was indebted for his fable; nor does this discovery at all dispose me to retract my former opinion, which the reader may find at the conclusion of the play. Such parts of the dialogue as our author had immediately imitated, I have occasionally pointed out at the bottom of the page; but must refer the reader, who is desirous to examine the whole structure of the piece, to Six old Plays on which Shakespeare founded, &c. published by S. Leacroft, at Charing-cross, as a Supplement to our commentaries on Shakespeare. Beaumont and Fletcher wrote what may be called a sequel to this comedy, viz. The Woman's Prize, or the Tamer Tam'd; in which Petruchio is subdued by a second wife. Steevens.

Note return to page 662 2I'll pheese you, &lblank;] To pheeze or fease, is to separate a twist into single threads. In the figurative sense it may well enough be taken, like teaze or toze, for to harrass, to plague. Perhaps I'll pheeze you, may be equivalent to I'll comb your head, a phrase vulgarly used by persons of Sly's character on like occasions. The following explanation of the word is given by Sir Tho. Smith in his book de Sermone Anglico, printed by Robert Stephens, 4to. To feize, means in fila diducere. Johnson. Shakespeare repeats his use of the word in Troilus and Cressida, where Ajax says he will pheese the pride of Achilles; and Love-wit in the Alchemist employs it in the same sense. Again, in Putenham's Art of Poetry, 1589: “Your pride serves you to feaze them all alone.” Again, in Stanyhurst's version of the first book of Virgil's Æneid: “We are touz'd, and from Italye feazed.” —Italis longe disjungimur oris. Again, ibid: “Feaze away the droane bees, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 663 3&lblank; no rogues:] That is, vagrants, no mean fellows, but gentlemen. Johnson. One William Sly was a performer in the plays of Shakespeare, as appears from the list of comedians prefixed to the folio, 1623. This Sly is likewise mentioned in Heywood's Actor's Vindication. He was also among those to whom James I. granted a licence to act at the Globe theatre in 1603. Steevens.

Note return to page 664 4&lblank; paucas-pallabris;] Sly, as an ignorant fellow, is purposely made to aim at languages out of his knowledge, and knock the words out of joint. The Spaniards say, pocas palabras, i. e. few words: as they do likewise, Cessa, i. e. be quiet. Theobald. This is a burlesque on Hieronymo, which Theobald speaks of in the following note. “What new device have they devised now? Pocas pallabras.” In the comedy of the Roaring Girl, 1611, a cut-purse makes use of the same words. Again they appear in The Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638, and in some others, but are always appropriated to the lowest characters. Steevens.

Note return to page 665 5&lblank; let the world slide:] This expression is proverbial. It is used in B. and Fletcher's Wit without Money: “&lblank; will you go drink, “And let the world slide, uncle?” Steevens.

Note return to page 666 6&lblank; you have burst?] To burst and to break were anciently synonymous. Falstaff says—that “John of Gaunt burst Shallow's head for crowding in among the marshal's men.” Again, in Soliman and Perseda: “God save you, sir, you have burst your shin.” Again, in Dr. Philemon Holland's translation of Plutarch's Apophthegmes, edit. 1603, p. 405. To brast and to burst, have the same meaning. So, in All for Money, a tragedy by T. Lupton, 1574: “If you forsake our father, for sorrow he will brast.” In the same piece burst is used when it suited the rhime. Again, in the old Morality of Every Man: “Though thou weep till thy hart to brast.” Steevens. Burst?] You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? I believe the true reading to be brast which often literally, and in the sense of the text, signifies broke. A word perpetually used by Shakespeare's contemporary poets, particularly Spenser. Warton.

Note return to page 667 7Go by, S. Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.] All the editions have coined a saint here, for Sly to swear by. But the poet had no such intentions. The passage has particular humour in it, and must have been very pleasing at that time of day. But I must clear up a piece of stage history, to make it understood. There is a fustian old play, called Hieronymo; or, The Spanish Tragedy: which, I find, was the common butt of raillery to all the poets in Shakespeare's time: and a passage, that appeared very ridiculous in that play, is here humorously alluded to. Hieronymo, thinking himself injur'd, applies to the king for justice; but the courtiers, who did not desire his wrongs should be set in a true light, attempt to hinder him from an audience. “Hiero. Justice, oh! justice to Hieronymo. “Lor. Back;—see'st thou not the king is busy? “Hiero. Oh, is he so? “King. Who is he, that interrupts our business? “Hiero. Not I:—Hieronymo, beware; go by, go by.” So Sly here, not caring to be dun'd by the Hostess, cries to her in effect, “Don't be troublesome, don't interrupt me, go by;” and to fix the satire in his allusion, pleasantly calls her Jeronimo. Theobald. The first part of this tragedy is called Jeronimo. The Tinker therefore does not say Jeronimo as a mistake for Hieronimo. Steevens.

Note return to page 668 8&lblank; I must go fetch the Headborough. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth Borough, &c.] This corrupt reading had pass'd down through all the copies, and none of the editors pretended to guess at the poet's conceit. What an insipid, unmeaning reply does Sly make to his Hostess? How do third, or fourth, or fifth borough relate to Headborough? The author intended but a poor witticism, and even that is lost. The Hostess would say, that she'll fetch a constable: and this officer she calls by his other name, a Third-borough: and upon this term Sly founds the conundrum in his answer to her. Who does not perceive at a single glance, some conceit started by this certain correction? There is an attempt at wit, tolerable enough for a tinker, and one drunk too. Third-borough is a Saxon term sufficiently explained by the glossaries: and in our statute-books, no further back than the 28th year of Henry VIII. we find it used to signify a constable. Theobald. Theobald took his explanation of Third-borough, from Cowel's Law Dict. which at the same time might have taught him to doubt of its propriety. In the Personæ Dramatis to Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub, the high-constable, the petty-constable, the head-borough, and the third-borough, are enumerated as distinct characters. It is difficult to say precisely what the office of a third-borough was. Steevens. A thirdborough seems originally to have signified him who had the principal government within his own tything, or trithing. Norden's Hist. of Cornwall, decides for the former word tithing. See p. 29, 30. “The shirife has his bayliwickes; the hundreds have constables; tythings have therd-barows, in some places hedborows, in some borrowshed, and in the weste partes, a tything-man.” Tollet. If the authority of Lambard and Cowel are not sufficient to to justify Theobald in preferring this word to headborough, glossaries are of no use. As to the office of thirdborough, it is known to all acquainted with the civil constitution of this country to be co-extensive with that of constable. Sir John Hawkins.

Note return to page 669 9Falls asleep.] The spurious play already mentioned, begins thus: “Enter a Tapster, beating out of his doores Slie drunken. “Taps. You whoreson drunken slave, you had best be gone, “And empty your drunken panch somewhere else, “For in this house thou shalt not rest to night. [Exit. Tapster. “Slie. Tilly vally; by crisee Tapster Ile fese you anone: “Fills the t'other pot, and all's paid for: looke you, “I doe drinke it of mine owne instigation. Omne bene. “Heere Ile lie awhile: why Tapster, I say, “Fill's a fresh cushen heere: “Heigh ho, heere's good warme lying. [He falles asleepe. “Enter a noble man and his men from hunting.” Steevens.

Note return to page 670 1Brach Merriman,—the poor our is imbost, And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.] Here, says Pope, brach signifies a degenerate hound: but Edwards explains it a hound in general. That the latter of these criticks is right, will appear from the use of the word brach in Sir J. Moores's Comfort against Tribulation, book iii. ch. 24. “Here it must be known of some men that can skill of hunting, whether that we mistake not our terms, for then are we utterly ashamed, as ye wott well.—And I am so cunning, that I cannot tell, whether among them a bitche be a bitche or no; but as I remember she is no bitch but a brache.” The meaning of the latter part of the paragraph seems to be, “I am so little skilled in hunting, that I can hardly tell whether a bitch be a bitch or not; my judgment goes no further, than just to direct me to call either dog or bitch by their general name-Hound.” I am aware that Spelman acquaints his reader, that brache was used in his days for a lurcher, and that Shakespeare himself has made it a dog of a particular species. “Mastiff, greyhound, mungrill grim, “Hound or spaniel, brache or hym.” K. Lear, act III. sc. v. But it is manifest from the passage of More just cited, that it was sometimes applied in a general sense, and may therefore be so understood in the passage before us; and it may be added, that brache appears to be used in the same sense by Beaumont and Fletcher. “A. Is that your brother? E. Yes, have you lost your memory? A. As I live he is a pretty fellow. Y. O this is a sweet brache.” Scornful Lady, act. I. sc. I. Warton. Sir T. Hanmer reads, Leech Merriman, that is, apply some remedies to Merriman, the poor cur has his joints swell'd. Perhaps we might read, bathe Merriman, which is I believe the common practice of huntsmen, but the present reading may stand: &lblank; tender well my hounds: Brach—Merriman—the poor cur is imbost. Johnson. Imbost,] a hunting term; when a deer is hard run and foams at the mouth, he is said to be emboss'd. A dog also when he is strained with hard running (especially upon hard ground) will have his knees swelled, and then he is said to be emboss'd: from the French word bosse which signifies a tumour. This explanation of the word will receive illustration from the following passage in the old comedy, intitled, A pleasant Comedy of the gentle Craft, acted at court, and printed in the year 1618. signat. C: “&lblank; Beate every brake, the game's not farre, “This way with winged feet he fled from death: “Besides, the miller's boy told me even now, “He saw him take soyle, and he hallowed him, “Affirming him so emboss'd.” Warton. Mr. Warton's first explanation is just. Lylly, in his Midas, 1592, has not only given us the term, but the explanation of it. “Pet. There was a boy leash'd on the single, because when he was imboss'd he took soyle. “Li. What's that? “Pet. Why a boy was beaten on the tayle with a leathern thong, because, when he fom'de at the mouth with running, he went into the water.” Steevens. I believe brach Merriman means only Merriman the brach. So in the old song, “Cow Crumbocke is a very good cow.” Brach however appears to have been a particular sort of hound. In an old metrical charter, granted by Edward the Confessor to the hundred of Cholmer and Dancing, in Essex, there are the two following lines; “Four greyhounds & six Bratches, “For hare, fox, and wild-cattes.” Merriman surely could not be designed for the name of a female of the canine species. Steevens. It seems from the commentary of Ulitius upon Gratius, from Caius de Canibus Britannicis, from bracco, in Spelman's Glossary, and from Markham's Country Contentments, that brache originally meant a bitch. Ulitius, p. 163, observes, that bitches have a superior sagacity of nose, “fœminis [canibus] sagacitatis plurimum inesse, usus docuit;” and hence, perhaps, any hound with eminent quickness of scent, whether dog or bitch, was called brache, for the term brache is sometimes applied to males. Our ancestors hunted much with the large southern hounds, and had in every pack a couple of dogs peculiarly good and cunning to find game, or recover the scent, as Markham informs us. To this custom Shakespeare seems here to allude, by naming two braches, which, in my opinion, are beagles; and this discriminates brache from the lym, a blood-hound mentioned together with it, in the tragedy of King Lear. In the following quotation offered by Mr. Steevens on another occasion, the brache hunts truely by the scent, behind the doe, while the hounds are on every side: “For as the dogs pursue the silly doe, “The brache behind, the hounds on every side; “So trac'd they me among the mountains wide.” Phaer's Legend of Owen Glendower. Tollet.

Note return to page 671 1&lblank; how Silver made it good] This, I suppose, is a technical term. It occurs likewise in the 23d song of Drayton's Polyolbion: “What's offer'd by the first, the other good doth make.” Steevens.

Note return to page 672 2And when he says he is,—say that he dreams, For he is nothing but a mighty lord.] I should rather think that Shakespeare wrote: “And when he says he's poor,—say, that he dreams.” The dignity of a lord is then significantly opposed to the poverty which it would be natural for him to acknowledge. Steevens. If any thing should be inserted, it may be done thus: “And when he says he's Sly, say that he dreams.” The likeness in writing of Sly and say produced the omission. Johnson. This is hardly right; for how should the lord know the beggar's name to be Sly? Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0378

Note return to page 673 3&lblank; modesty.] By modesty is meant moderation, without suffering our merriment to break into an excess. Johnson.

Note return to page 674 4Enter Players.] The old play already quoted reads: “Enter two of the plaiers with packs at their backs, and a boy.” “Now, sirs, what store of plaies have you? “San. Marry my lord you may have a tragicall, “Or a commoditie, or what you will. “The other. A comedie thou shouldst say, souns thou'lt shame us all. “Lord. And what's the name of your comedie? “San. Marrie my lord, 'tis calde The Taming of a Shrew: “'Tis a good lesson for us my L. for us that are maried men,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 675 5&lblank; to accept our duty.] It was in those times the custom of players to travel in companies, and offer their service at great houses. Johnson. In the fifth Earl of Northumberland's Household Book, (with a copy of which I was honoured by the late dutchess) the following article occurs. The book was begun in the year 1512: “Rewards to Playars. “Item, to be payd to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy for rewards to players for playes playd in Chrystinmas by stranegers in my house after xxd. every play by estimacion somme xxxiij s. iiij d. Which ys apoynted to be payd to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy at the said Christynmas in full contentacion of the said rewardys xxxiij s. iiij d.” Steevens.

Note return to page 676 6I think, 'twas Soto &lblank;] I take our author here to be paying a compliment to Beaumont and Fletcher's Women Pleased, in which comedy there is the character of Soto, who is a farmer's son, and a very facetious serving-man. Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope prefix the name of Sim to the line here spoken; but the first folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the name of one of the players here introduced, and who had played the part of Soto with applause. Theobald. As both the quarto and folio prefix the name of Sincklo to this line, why should we displace it? Sincklo is a name elsewhere used by Shakespeare. In one of the parts of Henry VI. Humphrey and Sincklo enter with their bows, as foresters. With this observation I was favoured by a learned lady, and have replaced the old reading. Steevens. It is true that Soto, in the play of Women Pleased, is a farmer's eldest son, but he does not wooe any gentlewoman; so that it may be doubted, whether that be the character alluded to. There can be little doubt that Sincklo was the name of one of the players, which has crept in, both here and in the Third Part of Henry VI. instead of the name of the person represented. Again, at the conclusion of the Second Part of K. Henry IV. “Enter Sincklo and three or four officers.” See the quarto 1600. Tyrwhitt. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0379

Note return to page 677 7&lblank; in the world.] Here follows another insertion made by Mr. Pope from the old play. These words are neither found in the quarto, 1631, nor in the folio, 1623. I have therefore sunk them into a note, as we have no proof that the first sketch of the piece was written by Shakespeare. “2 Play. [to the other] Go, get a dish-clout to make clean your shoes, and I'll speak for the properties* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 678 *Property] in the language of a playhouse, is every implement necessary to the exhibition. Johnson. So, in The Bird in a Cage, by Shirley, 1633: “No matter for properties, “We'll imagine, madam, you have a beard.” Again, in The Noble Stranger, 1640: “To an antiquary's study for strange properties to perform the ceremonies requisite at inspiration.” Steevens.

Note return to page 679 †&lblank; a little vinegar to make our devil roar.] When the acting the mysteries of the Old and New Testament was in vogue, at the representation of the mystery of the Passion, Judas and the devil made a part. And the devil, wherever he came, was always to suffer some disgrace, to make the people laugh: as here, the buffoonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar. And the Passion being that, of all the mysteries, which was most frequently represented, vinegar became at length the standing implement to torment the devil; and was used for this purpose even after the mysteries ceased, and the moralities came in vogue; where the devil continued to have a considerable part.—The mention of it here was to ridicule so absurd a circumstance in these old farces. Warburton. All Dr. Warburton has said, relative to Judas and the vinegar, wants confirmation. I have met with no such circumstances in any mysteries, whether in MS. or in print; and yet both the Chester and Coventry collections are preserved in the British Museum. See MS. Harl. 2013, and Cotton MS. Vespasian. D. viii. Perhaps, however, some entertainments of a farcical kind might have been introduced between the acts. Between the divisions of one of the Chester Mysteries, I met with this marginal direction.—Here the Boy and Pig; and perhaps the devil in the intervals of this first comedy of the Taming of a Shrew, might be tormented for the entertainment of the audience; or, according to a custom observed in some of our ancient puppet-shews, might beat his wife with a shoulder of mutton. In the Preface to Marlow's Tamburlaine, 1590, the Printer says: “I have (purposelie) omitted and left out some fond and frivolous jestures, digressing (and in my poore opinion) farre unmeete for the matter, which I thought might seeme more tedious unto the wise, than any way els to be regarded, though (happly) they have bene of some vaine conceited fondlings greatly gaped at, what time they were shewed upon the stage in their graced deformities: neverthelesse now to be mixtured in print with such matter of worth, it would prove a great disgrace, &c.” The bladder of vinegar was, however, used for other purposes. I meet with the following stage direction in the old play of Cambyses (by T. Preston) when one of the characters is supposed to die from the wounds he had just received.—Here let a small bladder of vinegar be prick'd. I suppose to counterfeit blood: red-wine vinegar was chiefly used, as appears from the ancient books of cookery. In the ancient Tragedy, or rather Morality, called All for Money, by T. Lupton, 1578. Sin says: “I knew I would make him soon change his note, “I will make him sing the Black Sanctus, I hold him a groat. “Here Satan shall cry and roar.” Again, a little after. “Here he roareth and crieth.” Of the kind of wit current through these productions, a better specimen can hardly be found than the following: “Satan. Whatever thou wilt have, I will not thee denie. “Sinne. Then give me a piece of thy tayle to make a flappe for a flie. “For if I had a piece thereof, I do verely believe “The humble bees stinging should never me grieve. “Satan. No, my friend, no, my tayle I cannot spare, “But aske what thou wilt besides, and I will it prepare. “Sinne. Then your nose I would have to stop my tayle behind, “For I am combred with collike and letting out of winde: “And if it be too little to make thereof a case, “Then I would be so bold to borrowe your face.” Such were the entertainments, of which our maiden queen sat a spectatress in the earlier part of her reign. Steevens.

Note return to page 680 8Who for twice seven years &lblank;] In former editions: Who for these seven years hath esteem'd himself No better than a poor and loathsome beggar. I have ventured to alter a word here, against the authority of the printed copies; and hope, I shall be justified in it by two subsequent passages. That the poet designed, the tinker's supposed lunacy should be of fourteen years standing at least, is evident upon two parallel passages in the play to that purpose. Theobald. The remark is just, but perhaps the alteration may be thought unnecessary by those who recollect that our author rarely reckons time with any great correctness. Both Falstaff and Orlando forget the true hour of their appointments. The old copy, however, reads—for this seven years, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 681 9An onion &lblank;] It is not unlikely that the onion was an expedient used by the actors of interludes. Johnson. So, in Anthony and Cleopatra: “The tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 682 1Enter Sly, &c.] Thus in the original play. “Enter two with a table and banquet on it, and two other with Slie asleepe in a chaire, richlie apparelled, and the musick plaieng.” “One. So, sirha, now go call my lord; “And tell him all things are ready as he will'd it. “Another. Set thou some wine upon the boord, “And then Ile go fetch my lord presently. Exit. “Enter the Lord and his men. “Lord. How now, what is all things readie? “One. Yea, my lord. “Lord. Then sound the musick, and Ile wake him strait, “And see you doe as earst I gave in charge. “My lord, my lord, (he sleepes soundly) my lord. “Slie. Tapster, gives a little small ale: heigh ho. “Lord. Here's wine, my lord, the purest of the grape. “Slie. For which lord? “Lord. For your honor, my lord. “Slie. Who I, am I a lord?—What fine apparell have I got! “Lord. More richer far your honour hath to weare, “And if it please you I will fetch them straight. “Wil. And if your honour please to ride abroad, “Ile fetch your lustie steedes more swift of pace “Then winged Pegasus in all his pride, “That ran so swiftlie over Persian plaines. “Tom. And if your honour please to hunt the deere, “Your hounds stands readie cuppled at the doore, “Who in running will oretake the row, “And make the long-breathde tygre broken-winded.” Steevens.

Note return to page 683 2&lblank; of Burton-heath &lblank; Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife, of Wincot,] I suspect we should read Barton-heath. Barton and Woodmancot, or, as it is vulgarly pronounced, Woncot, are both of them in Glostershire, near the residence of Shakespeare's old enemy, Justice Shallow. Very probably too, this fat ale-wife might be a real character. Steevens. Wilnecotte is a village in Warwickshire, with which Shakespeare was well acquainted, near Stratford. The house kept by our genial hostess, still remains, but is at present a mill. The meanest hovel to which Shakespeare has an allusion, interests curiosity, and acquires an importance: at least, it becomes the object of a poetical antiquarian's inquiries. Warton.

Note return to page 684 3I am not bestraught:] I once thought that if our poet did not design to put a corrupted word into the mouth of the Tinker, we ought to read, distraught, i. e. distracted. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, &c.” For there is no verb extant from which the participle bestraught can be formed. In Albion's England, however, by Warner, 1602, I meet with the word as spelt by Shakespeare: “Now teares had drowned further speech, till she as one bestrought “Did crie, &c.” Again, in the old Song, beginning, “When griping griefes, &c.” “Be-straughted heads relyef hath founde.” Again, in Lord Surrey's Translation of the 4th book of Virgil's Æneid: “Well near bestraught, upstart his heare for dread.” Steevens.

Note return to page 685 4&lblank; Leet,] As the Court leet, or courts of the manor. Johnson.

Note return to page 686 5&lblank; John Naps of Greece,] A hart of Greece was a fat hart. Graisse, Fr. So, in the old ballad of Adam Bell, &c. “Eche of them slew a hart of graece.” Again, in Ives's Select Papers, at the coronation feast of Elizabeth of York, queen of king Henry VII. among other dishes were “capons of high Greece.” Perhaps this expression was used to imply that John Naps (who might have been a real character) was a fat man: or as Poins calls the associates of Falstaff Trojans, John Naps might be called a Grecian for such another reason. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0381

Note return to page 687 6In this place, Mr. Pope, and after him other editors, had introduced the three following speeches, from the old edition 1607. I have already observed that it is by no means probable, that the former comedy of the Taming of the Shrew was written by Shakespeare, and have therefore removed them from the text. “Sly. By the mass, I think I am a lord indeed: “What is thy name? “Man. Sim, an it please your honour. “Sly. Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon,   “or Simon. Put forth thy hand, and fill the pot.” Steevens.

Note return to page 688 7Enter the Page, &c.] Thus in the original play. “Enter the boy in woman's attire. “Slie. Sim, is this she? “Lord. I, my lord. “Slie. Masse 'tis a pretty wench; what's her name? “Boy. Oh that my lovelie lord would once vouchsafe “To looke on me, and leave these frantike fits! “Or were I now but half so eloquent “To paint in words what Ile performe in deedes, “I know your honour then would pittie me. “Slie. Harke you, mistresse; will you eate a piece of bread? “Come, sit down on my knee: drinke to her, Sim; “For she and I will go to bed anon. “Lord. May it please you, your honour's plaiers be come “To offer your honour a plaie. “Slie. A plaie, Sim, O brave! be they my plaiers? “Lord. I, my lord. “Slie. Is there not a foole in the plaie? “Lord. Yes, my lord. “Slie. When will they plaie, Sim? “Lord. Even when it please your honor; they be readie. “Boy. My lord, Ile go bid them begin their plaie. “Slie. Doo, but looke that you come again. “Boy. I warrant you, my lord; I will not leave you thus. Exit. Boy. “Slie. Come, Sim, where be the plaiers? Sim stand by me, “And weele flowt the plaiers out of their coates. “Lord. Ile cal them my lord. Ho, where are you there? “Sound trumpets. “Enter two young gentlemen, and a man, and a boy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 689 8Mr. Pope made likewise the following addition to this speech from the elder play. “Sly. Come, sit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her.” Madam, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 690 9&lblank; come now to bed.] Here Mr. Pope adds again—Sim, drink to her. Steevens.

Note return to page 691 1Is not a commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?] Thus the old copies; the modern ones read, It is not a commodity, &c. Commonty for comedy, &c. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0382

Note return to page 692 2&lblank; from fruitful Lombardy,] So Mr. Theobald. The former editions, instead of from, had for. Johnson. Padua is a city of Lombardy, therefore Mr. Theobald's emendation is unnecessary. Steevens.

Note return to page 693 3&lblank; ingenious] I rather think it was written ingenuous studies, but of this and a thousand such observations there is little certainty. Johnson.

Note return to page 694 4Pisa renowned for grave citizens,] This passage, I think, should be read and pointed thus: Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, Gave me my being, and my father first, A merchant of great traffick through the world, Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii. In the next line, which should begin a new sentence, Vincentio his son, is the same as Vincentio's son, which the author of the Revisal not apprehending, has proposed to alter Vincentio into Lucentio. It may be added, that Shakespeare [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 695 after Shakespeare, insert, elsewhere.

Note return to page 696 5Vincentio his son,] i. e. Vincentio's son. So Spenser's Fairy Queen, Book IV. cant. i. stanza 35: “This knight too late his manhood and his might “I did assay.” Musgrave.

Note return to page 697 6Virtue, and that part of philosophy] Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read to virtue; but formerly ply and apply were indifferently used, as to ply or apply his studies. Johnson.

Note return to page 698 7Me pardonato,] We should read, Mi perdonate. Steevens.

Note return to page 699 8&lblank; Aristotle's checks,] are, I suppose, the harsh rules of Aristotle. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0383

Note return to page 700 9A pretty peat!] Peat or pet is a word of endearment from petit, little, as if it meant pretty little thing. Johnson. This word is used in the old play of King Leir (not Shakespeare's): “Gon. I marvel, Ragan, how you can endure “To see that proud, pert peat, our youngest sister, &c.” Again, in Coridon's Song, by Tho. Lodge; published in England's Helicon, 1614: “And God send every pretty peate, “Heigh hoe the pretty peate, &c.” and is, I believe, of Scotch extraction. I find it in one of the proverbs of that country, where it signifies darling. “He has fault of a wife, that marries mam's pet.” i. e. He is in great want of a wife who marries one that is her mother's darling. Again, in Look about You, 1600: “An old knave, and cannot be content with such a peat!” Again, in Lingua, 1607: “Was nothing like thy busk-point, pretty peat.” Steevens.

Note return to page 701 1&lblank; so strange?] That is, so odd, so different from others in your conduct. Johnson.

Note return to page 702 2Cunning men] Cunning had not yet lost its original signification of knowing, learned, as may be observed in the translation of the Bible. Johnson.

Note return to page 703 3&lblank; happy man be his dole!] A proverbial expression. It is used in Damon and Pithias, 1582. Dole is any thing dealt out or distributed, though its original meaning was the provision given away at the doors of great men's houses. Steevens.

Note return to page 704 4If love hath touch'd you, nought remains but so,] The next line from Terence, shews that we should read: “If Love hath toyl'd you,” &lblank; i. e. taken you in his toils, his nets. Alluding to the captus est, habet, of the same author. Warburton.

Note return to page 705 5Redime &c.] Our author had this line from Lilly, which I mention, that it may not be brought as an argument of his learning. Johnson. Mr. Farmer's pamphlet affords an additional proof that this line was taken from Lilly, and not from Terence; because it is quoted, as it appears in the grammarian, and not as it appears in the poet. It may be added, that captus est, habet, is not in the same play which furnished the quotation. Steevens.

Note return to page 706 6&lblank; daughter of Agenor] Europa, for whose sake Jupiter transformed himself into a bull. Steevens.

Note return to page 707 7Basta;] i. e. 'tis enough; Italian and Spanish. This expression occurs in the Mad Lover, and the Little French Lawyer, of Beaumont and Fletcher. Steevens.

Note return to page 708 8port,] Port, is figure, show, appearance. Johnson.

Note return to page 709 9&lblank; good and weighty.] The division for the second act of this play is neither marked in the folio nor quarto editions. Shakespeare seems to have meant the first act to conclude here, where the speeches of the Tinker are introduced; though they have been hitherto thrown to the end of the first act, according to a modern and arbitrary regulation. Steevens.

Note return to page 710 1&lblank; has rebus'd your worship?] What is the meaning of rebus'd? or is it a false print for abus'd? Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 711 2&lblank; what he 'leges in Latin.] i. e. I suppose, what he alleges in Latin. Petruchio has been just speaking Italian to Hortensio, which Grumio mistakes for the other language. Steevens. I cannot help suspecting that we should read: “Nay, 'tis no matter what be leges in Latin, if this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service. Look you, sir.”—That is, 'Tis no matter what is law, if this be not a lawful cause, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 712 3&lblank; knock me soundly?] Shakespeare seems to design a ridicule on this clipt and ungrammatical phraseology; which yet he has introduced in Othello: “I pray talk me of Cassio.” Steevens.

Note return to page 713 4Where small experience grows. But, in a few,] This nonsense should be read thus: Where small experience grows but in a mew, i. e. a confinement at home. And the meaning is, that no improvement is to be expected of those who never look out of doors. Warburton. Why this should seem nonsense, I cannot perceive. In a few, means the same as in short, in few words. Johnson. So, in K. Henry IV. Part II: “In few;—his death, whose spirit lent a fire,” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 714 5(As wealth is burthen of my wooing dance)] The burthen of a dance is an expression which I have never heard; the burthen of his wooing song had been more proper. Johnson.

Note return to page 715 6Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,] This I suppose relates to a circumstance in some Italian novel, and should be read Florentio's. Warburton. Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,] I suppose this alludes to the story of a Florentine, which is met with in an old book, called, A Thousand Notable Things, and perhaps in other Collections. “He was ravished over-night with the lustre of jewels, and was mad till the marriage was solemnized; but next morning, viewing his lady before she was so gorgeously trim'd up.— She was such a leane, yellow, rivell'd, deform'd creature, that he never lived with her afterwards.” Farmer. The allusion is to a story told by Gower in the first book De Confessione Amantis. Florent is the name of a knight who had bound himself to marry a deformed hag, provided she taught him the solution of a riddle on which his life depended. The following is the description of her. “Florent his wofull heed up lifte, “And saw this vecke, where that she sit, “Which was the lothest wighte “That ever man caste on his eye: “Hir nose baas, hir browes hie, “Hir eyes small, and depe sette, “Hir chekes ben with teres wette, “And rivelyn as an empty skyn, “Hangyng downe unto the chyn; “Hir lippes shronken ben for age, “There was no grace in hir visage. “Hir front was narowe, hir lockes hore, “She loketh foorth as doth a more: “Hir neck is shorte, his shulders courbe, “That might a mans luste distourbe: “Hir bodie great, and no thyng small, “And shortly to descrive hir all, “She hath no lith without a lacke, “But like unto the woll sacke: &c.” &lblank; “Though she be the fouleste of all, &c.” This story might have been borrowed by Gower from an older narrative in the Gesta Romanorum. See the Introductory Discourse to the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, last edit. vol. IV. p. 153. Steevens.

Note return to page 716 7Affection's edge in me,] This man is a strange talker. He tells you he wants money only. And, as to affection, he thinks so little of the matter, that give him but a rich mistress, and he will take her though incrusted all over with the worst bad qualities of age, ugliness, and ill-manners. Yet after this, he talks of affection's edge being so strong in him that nothing can abate it. Some of the old copies indeed, instead of me read time: this will direct us to the true reading, which I am persuaded is this: “Affection sieg'd in coin, i. e. placed, seated, fixed. This makes him speak to the purpose, that his affection is all love of money. The expression too is proper, as the metaphor is intire—to remove affection sieg'd in coin. Warburton. Surely the sense of the present reading is too obvious to be missed or mistaken. Petruchio says, that, if a girl has money enough, no bad qualities of mind or body will remove affection's edge; i. e. hinder him from liking her. Johnson.

Note return to page 717 8aglet] the tag of a point. Pope. So, in the Spanish Tragedy, 1605: “And all those stars that gaze upon her face, “Are aglets on her sleeve-pins and her train.” Steevens.

Note return to page 718 9an he begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks.] This is obscure. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, he'll rail in his rhetorick; I'll tell you, &c. Rhetorick agrees very well with figure in the succeeding part of the speech, yet I am inclined to believe that rope-tricks is the true word. Johnson. In Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare uses ropery for roguery, and therefore certainly wrote rope-tricks. Rope-tricks we may suppose to mean tricks of which the contriver would deserve the rope. Steevens.

Note return to page 719 1&lblank; that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat:] The humour of this passage I do not understand. This animal is remarkable for the keenness of its sight. Probably the poet meant to have said—a cat in a bottle. Of this diversion see an account in Much Ado about Nothing, act I. to the note on which, the following passages may be added from a poem called Cornu-copiæ, or Pasquil's Night-cap, or an Antidote for the Head-ache, 1623, p. 48: “Fairer than any stake in Greys-inne field, &c. “Guarded with gunners, bill-men, and a rout “Of bow-men bold, which at a cat do shoot.” Again, ibid: “Nor on the top a cat-a-mount was fram'd, “Or some wilde beast that ne'er before was tam'd; “Made at the charges of some archer stout, “To have his name canoniz'd in the clout.” I did not meet with these instances till the play to which they belong was printed off. They serve, however, to shew that it was customary to shoot at factitious as well as real cats. There are two proverbs which any reader who can, may apply to this allusion of Grumio: “Well might the cat wink when both her eyes were out.” “A muffled cat was never a good hunter.” The first in is Ray's Collection, the second in Kelly's. Steevens. It may mean, that he shall swell up her eyes with blows, till she shall seem to peep with a contracted pupil, like a cat in the light. Johnson.

Note return to page 720 2&lblank; in Baptista's keep] Keep is custody. The strongest part of an ancient castle was called the keep. Steevens.

Note return to page 721 3And her witholds, &c.] It stood thus: And her witholds he from me. Other more suitors to her, and rivals in my love, &c. The regulation which I have given to the text, was dictated to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Theobald.

Note return to page 722 4Well seen in musick,] Seen is versed, practised. So, in The longer thou Livest the more Fool thou art, 1570: “Sum would have you seen in stories, “Sum to feates of arms will you allure, &c. “Sum will move you to reade Scripture. “Marry, I would have you seene in cardes and dise.” Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. IV. c. ii: “Well seene in every science that mote bee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 723 5&lblank; at any hand,] i. e. at all events. Steevens.

Note return to page 724 6&lblank; help me &lblank;] The old copy reads:—help one. Steevens.

Note return to page 725 7&lblank; old Antonio's son.] The folio 1623, and quarto 1631, —read old Butonio's son. Steevens.

Note return to page 726 8&lblank; and trumpets clang?] Probably the word clang is here used adjectively, as in the Paradise Lost, b. xi. v. 834, and not as a verb: “&lblank; an island salt and bare, “The haunt of seals, and orcs, and sea-mews clang.” Warton. I believe Mr. Warton is mistaken. Clang as a substantive, is used in The Noble Gentleman of Beaumont and Fletcher: “I hear the clang of trumpets in this house.” Again, in Tamburlaine, &c. 1590: “&lblank; hear you the clang “Of Scythian trumpets?” &lblank; Again, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1594: “The trumpet's clang, and roaring noise of drums.” Again, in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607: “Hath not the clang of harsh Armenian troops, &c.” Again, in Drant's translation of Horace's Art of Poetry, 1567: “Fit for a chorus, and as yet the boystus sounde and shryll “Of trumpetes clang the stalles was not accostomed to fill.” The trumpet's clang is certainly the clang of trumpets, and not an epithet bestowed on those instruments. Steevens.

Note return to page 727 9That gives not half so great a blow to hear,] This awkward phrase could never come from Shakespeare. He wrote, without question, &lblank; so great a blow to th'ear. Warburton. So, in K. John: “Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his “But buffets better than a fist of France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 728 1&lblank; with bugs.] i. e. with bug-bears. So, in Cymbeline: &lblank; are become “The mortal bugs o'th' field.” Steevens.

Note return to page 729 2He that has the two fair daughters, &c.] This speech should rather be given to Gremio; to whom, with the others, Tranio has addressed himself. The following passages might be written thus: Tra. Even he. Biondello! Gre. Hark you, sir; you mean not her too. Tyrwhitt. This speech, in the old copy, is given to Tranio. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0386

Note return to page 730 3&lblank; this feat—] The old old copy read—this seeke— The emendation was made by Mr. Rowe. Steevens.

Note return to page 731 4Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,] Mr. Theobald asks what they were to contrive? and then says, a foolish corruption possesses the place, and so alters it to convive; in which he is followed, as he pretty constantly is, when wrong, by the Oxford editor. But the common reading is right, and the critic was only ignorant of the meaning of it. Contrive does not signify here to project but to spend, and wear out. As in this passage of Spenser: Three ages such as mortal men contrive. Fairy Queen, b. xi. ch. 9. Warburton. The word is used in the same sense of spending or wearing out in Painter's Palace of Pleasure. Johnson. So, in Damon and Pithias, 1582: “In travelling countries, we three have contrived “Full many a year, &c.” Contrive, I suppose, is from contero. So, in the Hecyra of Terence. “Totum hunc contrivi diem.” Steevens.

Note return to page 732 5&lblank; but for these other goods,] This is so trifling and unexpressive a word, that, I am satisfied our author wrote gawds, (i. e. toys, trifling ornaments;) a term that he frequently uses and seems fond of. Theobald.

Note return to page 733 6&lblank; to keep you fair.] I wish to read, To keep you fine. But either word may serve. Johnson.

Note return to page 734 7&lblank; hilding &lblank;] The word hilding or hinderling, is a low wretch; it is applied to Katharine for the coarseness of her behaviour. Johnson.

Note return to page 735 8&lblank; Baccare, you are marvellous forward.] We must read, Baccalare; by which the Italians mean, thou arrogant, presumptuous man! the word is used scornfully upon any one that would assume a port of grandeur. Warburton. The word is neither wrong nor Italian: it was an old proverbial one, used by John Heywood; who hath made, what he pleases to call, Epigrams upon it. Take two of them, such as they are: “Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow, “Went that sow backe at that bidding, trow you?” “Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow: se “Mortimer's sow speaketh as good Latin as he.” Howel takes this from Heywood, in his Old Sawes and Adages: and Philpot introduces it into the proverbs collected by Camden. Farmer. Again, in the ancient Enterlude of the Repentaunce of Mary Magdalene, 1567: “Nay, hoa there, Backare, you must stand apart: “You love me best, I trow, mystresse Mary.” Again, in John Lylly's Midas—1592. “The masculine gender is more worthy than the feminine, and therefore Licio Backare.” Again, in John Grange's Golden Aphroditis, 1577, “&lblank;yet wrested he so his effeminate bande to the siege of backwarde affection, that both trumpe and drumme sounded nothing for their larum, but Baccare, Baccare.” Steevens.

Note return to page 736 9I doubt it not, sir, but you will curse your wooing neighbours. This is a gift] This nonsense may be rectified by only pointing it thus, I doubt it not, sir, but you will curse your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift, &c. addressing himself to Baptista. Warburton.

Note return to page 737 1&lblank; free leave give to this young scholar,] This is an injudicious correction of the first folio, which reads—freely give unto this young scholar. We should read, I believe— I freely give unto you this young scholar, That hath been long studying at Rheims, as cunning In Greek, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 738 2&lblank; this small packet of Greek and Latin books.] In queen Elizabeth's time the young ladies of quality were usually instructed in the learned languages, if any pains were bestowed on their minds at all. Lady Jane Gray and her sisters, queen Elizabeth, &c. are trite instances. Percy.

Note return to page 739 3&lblank; her frets,] A fret is that stop of a musical instrument which causes or regulates the vibration of the string. Johnson.

Note return to page 740 4And—twangling Jack; &lblank;] Of this contemptuous appellation I know not the precise meaning. Something like it, however, occurs in Magnificence an ancient folio interlude by Skelton, printed by Rastell: “&lblank; ye wene I were some hafter, “Or ellys some jangelynge jacke of the vale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 741 5Good-morrow Kate; &c.] Thus in the original play: “Feran. Twenty good-morrows to my lovely Kate. “Kate. You jeast I am sure; is she yours already? “Feran. I tel thee Kate, I know thou lov'st me wel. “Kate. The divel you do; who told you so? “Feran. My mind, sweet Kate, doth say I am the man, “Must wed, and bed, and marrie bonnie Kate. “Kate. Was ever seene so grosse an asse as this? “Feran. I, to stand so long and never get a kisse. “Kate. Hands off, I say, and get you from this place; “Or I will set my ten commandements in your face. “Feran. I prithy do, Kate; they say thou art a shrew, “And I like thee the better, for I would have thee so. “Kate. Let go my hand, for feare it reach your eare. “Feran. No, Kate, this hand is mine, and I thy love. “Kate. Yfaith, sir, no; the woodcoke wants his taile. “Feran. But yet his bil will serve, if the other faile. “Alfon. How now, Ferando? what [says] my daughter? “Feran. Shee's willing, sir, and loves me as her life. “Kate. 'Tis for your skin then, but not to be your wife. “Alfon. Come hither, Kate, and let me give thy hand, “To him that I have chosen for thy love; “And thou to-morrow shall be wed to him. “Kate. Why father, what do you mean to do with me, “To give me thus unto this brainsicke man, “That in his mood cares not to murder me? [She turns aside and speaks. “But yet I will consent and marry him, “(For I methinkes have liv'd too long a maide) “And match him too, or else his manhood's good. “Alfon. Give me thy hand: Ferando loves thee well, “And will with wealth and ease maintaine thy state. “Here Ferando, take her for thy wife, “And Sunday next shall be our wedding day.” “Feran. Why so, did not I tel thee I should be the man? “Father, I leave my lovely Kate with you. “Provide yourselves against our marriage day, “For I must hie me to my country house “In haste, to see provision may be made “To entertaine my Kate when she doth come, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 742 6A joint stool.] This is a proverbial expression: “Cry you mercy, I took you for a join'd stool.” See Ray's Collection. It is likewise repeated as a proverb in Mother Bombie, a comedy by Lilly, 1594, and by the Fool in King Lear. Steevens.

Note return to page 743 7Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.] Perhaps we may read better: Ay, for a turtle, and he takes a buzzard. That is, he may take me for a turtle, and he shall find me a hawk. Johnson. This kind of expression likewise seems to have been proverbial. So, in the Three Lords of London, 1590: “&lblank; hast no more skill, “Than take a faulcon for a buzzard?” Steevens.

Note return to page 744 8a craven.] A craven is a degenerate, dispirited cock. So, in Rhodon and Iris, 1631: “That we will pull the craven from his nest.” [Subnote: add, Steevens.]

Note return to page 745 9Go fool, and whom thou keep'st command.] This is exactly the &grP;&gra;&grs;&grs;&graa;&grm;&gre;&grn;&gro;&grst; &gres;&grp;&gria;&grt;&gra;&grs;&grs;&gre; of Theocritus, Eid. xv. v. 90. and yet I would not be positive that Shakespeare had ever read even a translation of Theocritus. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 746 1Am I not wise? Yes; keep you warm.] So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady: “&lblank; your house has been kept warm, sir. “I am glad to hear it; pray God, you are wise too.” Again, in our poet's Much Ado about Nothing: “&lblank; that if he has wit enough to keep himself warm.” Steevens.

Note return to page 747 2&lblank; nill you,] So, in the Death of Robert Earl of Huntington, 1601: “Will you or nill you, you must yet go in.” Again, in Damon and Pythias, 1582: “Neede hath no law; will I, or nill I, it must be done.” Steevens.

Note return to page 748 3&lblank; a wild Kate to a Kate Conformable,] Thus the folio, and the quarto 1631. The modern editors read, with an appearance of probability, but without authority or notice: &lblank; a wild Cat to a Kate, &c. Steevens. [Notes from the 1780 Supplement]9Q0388

Note return to page 749 4&lblank; a second Grissel; &c.] So, in the Fair Maid of Bristow, 1605, bl. 1. “I will become as mild and dutiful “As ever Grissel was unto her lord, “And for my constancy as Lucrece was.” There is a play entered at Stationers' Hall, May 28, 1599, called “The plaie of Patient Grissel.” Bocaccio was the inventor of the story, and Chaucer copied it in his Clerke of Oxenforde's Tale. Steevens.

Note return to page 750 5&lblank; kiss on kiss She vy'd so fast, &lblank;] I know not that the word vie has any construction that will suit this place; we may easily read: &lblank; kiss on kiss She ply'd so fast. Johnson. Vie and revye were terms at cards, now superseded by the more modern word, brag. Our author has in another place, “time revyes us,” which has likewise been unnecessarily altered. The words were frequently used in a sense somewhat remote from their original one. In the famous trial of the seven bishops, the chief justice says, “We must not permit vying and revying upon one another.” Farmer. It appears from a passage in Green's Tu Quoque, 1599, that to vie was one of the terms used at the game of Gleek.—“I vie it.”—“I'll none of it:”—“nor I.” “Give me a mourneval of aces and a gleek of queens.” The same expression occurs in Randolph's Jealous Lovers, 1632: “All that I have is thine, though I could vie, “For every silver hair upon my head, “A piece of gold.” It appears from Cyril Turner's All's Lost by Lust, 1633, that it was likewise a term used at the game of Maw. Again, in Swetnam Arraign'd, 1620: “Again for me too: I will vye it. “I'll see you, and revy it again.” Steevens.

Note return to page 751 6&lblank; 'tis a world to see,] i. e. It is wonderful to see. This expression is often met with in old historians, as well as dramatic writers. So, in Holinshed, vol. I. p. 209: “It is a world also to see how many strange heartes, &c.” Again, in Partheneia Sacra, 1633: “It is a world to see what mines and countermines they will make.” Steevens.

Note return to page 752 7&lblank; a meacock wretch,] i. e. a timorous dastardly creature. So, in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635: “A woman's well holp up with such a meacock.” Again, in Glapthorne's Hollander, 1640: “They are like my husband; mere meacocks verily.” Again, in Apius and Virginia, 1575: “As stout as a stockfish, as meek as a meacock.” Steevens.

Note return to page 753 8But thine doth fry.] Old Gremio's notions are confirmed by Shadwell:   “The fire of love in youthful blood,   “Like what is kindled in brush-wood,     “But for a moment burns &lblank;   “ But when crept into aged veins,   “It slowly burns, and long remains,   “It glows, and with a sullen heat, “Like fire in logs, it burns, and warms us long;   And though the flame be not so great,“   “Yet is the heat as strong.” Johnson. A similar thought occurs in A Woman never Vex'd, a comedy by Rowley, 1632: “My old dry wood shall make a lusty bonfire, when thy green chips lie hissing in the chimney-corner.” Steevens.

Note return to page 754 9&lblank; counterpoints,] So, in a Knack to know a Knave, 1594: “Then I will have rich counterpoints, and musk.” These coverings for beds are at present called counterpanes; but either mode of spelling is proper. Counterpoint is the monkish term for a particular species of music, in which notes of equal duration, but of different harmony, are set in opposition to each other. In like manner counterpanes were anciently composed of patch-work, and so contrived that every pane or partition in them, was contrasted with one of a different colour, though of the same dimensions. Steevens.

Note return to page 755 1tents and canopies,] I suppose by tents old Gremio means work of that kind which the ladies call tent-stitch. He would hardly enumerate tents (in their common acceptation) among his domestic riches. Steevens.

Note return to page 756 2Pewter &lblank;] We may suppose that pewter was, even in the time of queen Elizabeth, too costly to be used in common. It appears from “The regulations and establishment of the household of Henry Algernon Percy, the fifth earl of Northumberland, &c.” that vessels of pewter were hired by the year. This household-book was begun in the year 1512. See Holinshed's Description of England, p. 188, and 189. Steevens.

Note return to page 757 3Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land! My land amounts not to so much in all: That she shall have; besides &lblank;] Though all the copies concur in this reading, surely, if we examine the reasoning, something will be found wrong. Gremio is startled at the high settlement Tranio proposes: says, his whole estate in land can't match it, yet he'll settle so much a year upon her, &c. This is playing at cross purposes. The change of the negative in the second line salves the absurdity, and sets the passage right. Gremio and Tranio are vyeing in their offers to carry Bianca: the latter boldly proposes to settle land to the amount of two thousand ducats per annum. My whole estate, says the other, in land, amounts but to that value; yet she shall have that: I'll endow her with the whole; and consign a rich vessel to her use over and above. Thus all is intelligible, and he goes on to outbid his rival. Warburton. Gremio only says, his whole estate in land doth not indeed amount to two thousand ducats a year, but she shall have that, whatever be its value, and an argosy over and above; which argosy must be understood to be of very great value from his subjoining: What, have I choak'd you with an argosy? Revisal.

Note return to page 758 4&lblank; two galliasses] A galeas or galliass, is a heavy low-built vessel of burthen, with both sails and oars, partaking at once of the nature of a ship and a galley. So, in the Noble Soldier, 1634: “&lblank; to have rich gulls come aboard their pinnaces, for then they are sure to build galliasses.” Steevens.

Note return to page 759 5&lblank; out-vied.] This is a term at the old game of gleek. So, in Greene's Art of Coney-catching, 1592: “They draw a card, and the barnacle vies, and the countryman vies upon him, &c.” When one man was vied upon another, he was said to be out-vied. So, in the Jealous Lovers, by Randolph, 1632: “Thou canst not finde out wayes enow to spend it; “They will out-vie thy pleasures.” Steevens.

Note return to page 760 6Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten.] That is, with the highest card, in the old simple games of our ancestors. So that this became a proverbial expression. So, Skelton: “Fyrste pycke a quarrel, and fall out with him then, “And so outface him with a card of ten. And, Ben Jonson, in his Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; a Hart of ten “I trow he be.” i. e. an extraordinary good one. Warburton. If the word hart be right, I do not see any use of the latter quotation. Johnson. A hart of ten is an expression taken from the Laws of the Forest, and relates to the age of the deer. When a hart is past six years of age, he is generally call'd a hart of ten. Forest Laws, 4to. 1598. Again, in the sixth scene of the Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; a great large deer! “Rob. What head? “John. Forked. A hart of ten.” The former expression is very common. So, in Law-Tricks, &c. 1608: “I may be out-fac'd with a card of ten.” In the Chances, by Beaumont and Fletcher, a card of five is mentioned; and in the Emperor of the East, by Massinger: “He is a deer of ten, at the least.” As we are on the subject of cards, it may not be amiss to take notice of a common blunder relative to their names. We call the king, queen, and knave, court-cards, whereas they were antiently denominated coats or coat-cards, from their coats or dresses. So Ben Jonson, in his New Inn: “When she is pleas'd to trick or trump mankind, “Some may be coats, as in the cards.” So, Greene, in his Art of Coneycatching, 1592: “Call what you will, either hart, spade, club, or diamond, cote-card, or other.” Again, in May-Day, a comedy, by Chapman, 1611: “She had in her hand the ace of hearts and a coat-card. She led the board with her coat; I plaid the varlet, and took up her coat; and meaning to lay my finger on her ace of hearts, up started a quite contrary card.” Again, in B. Jonson's Staple of News: “&lblank; We call'd him a coat-card “O' the last order.” &lblank; Again, in Massinger's Old Law: “—Here's a trick of discarded cards of us: we were rank'd with coats as long as my old master liv'd.” Again, in The Ball, a comedy by Chapman and Shirley, 1639: “&lblank; name but one, “And if he cannot shew as many coats &lblank; “Ma. Methinks he has good cards for her.” Again, in Rowley's When you see me you know me, 1613: “You have been at noddy, I see. “Ay, and the first card comes to my hand is a knave. “I am a coat-card, indeed. “Then thou must needs be a knave, for thou art neither queen nor king.” Steevens.

Note return to page 761 7&lblank; if I fail not of my cunning.] As this is the conclusion of an act, I suspect that the poet design'd a rhyming couplet. Instead of cunning we might read—doing, which is often used by Shakespeare in the sense here wanted, and agrees perfectly well with the beginning of the line—“a child shall get a sire.” After this, the former editors add, Sly. Sim, when will the fool come again* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 762 *When will the fool come again?] The character of the fool has not been introduced in this drama, therefore I believe that the word again should be omitted, and that Sly asks, When will the fool come? the fool being the favourite of the vulgar, or, as we now phrase it, of the upper gallery, was naturally expected in every interlude. Johnson.

Note return to page 763 8&lblank; no breeching scholar] i. e. no school-boy liable to corporal correction. So, in King Edward the Second, by Marlow, 1622: “Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy.” Again, in The Hog has lost his Pearl, 1614: “&lblank; he went to fetch whips I think, and, not respecting my honour, he would have breech'd me.” Again, in Amends for Ladies, 1639: “If I had had a son of fourteen that had served me so, I would have breech'd him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 764 9Pantaloon.] the old cully in Italian farces. Johnson.

Note return to page 765 1Pedascule &lblank;] He would have said Didascale, but thinking this too honourable, he coins the word Pedascule, in imitation of it, from pedant. Warburton. I believe it is no coinage of Shakespeare's. It is more probable that it lay in his way, and he found it. Steevens.

Note return to page 766 2In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.] This and the seven verses that follow, have in all the editions been stupidly shuffled and misplaced to wrong speakers; so that every word said was glaringly out of character. Theobald.

Note return to page 767 3&lblank; for, sure, Æacides &c.] This is only said to deceive Hortensio who is supposed to listen. Steevens.

Note return to page 768 4Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice To change true rules for new inventions.] This is sense and the meaning of the passage; but the reading of the second verse, for all that, is sophisticated. The genuine copies all concur in reading: To change true rules for old inventions. Theobald. I suppose we may safely read odd inventions. I know not who first proposed it. Steevens. Mr. Theobald is unfaithful in his account of the old copies. The quarto and folio read: To charge true rules for old inventions. I believe that an opposition was intended, and that old is right.— As change was corrupted into charge, why might not true have been put instead of new, [Correction: 1Kb]

Note return to page 769 for, instead of new, read, instead of new?

Note return to page 770 5full of spleen;] That is, full of humour, caprice, and inconstancy. Johnson.

Note return to page 771 6&lblank; old news,] These words have been added by some of the editors, and necessarily, for the reply of Baptista supposes them to have been already spoken,—old laughing,—old utis, &c. are expressions of that time merely hyperbolical, and have been more than once used by Shakespeare. Steevens. So, in Lingua, 1607: “Here's old turning! These chymicks seeking to turn lead into gold, turn away all their own silver.” Malone.

Note return to page 772 7a pair of boots—one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points:] How a sword should have two broken points, I cannot tell. There is, I think, a transposition caused by the seeming relation of point to sword. I read, a pair of boots, one buckled, another laced with two broken points; an old rusty sword —with a broken hilt, and chapeless. Johnson. I suspect that several words giving an account of Petruchio's belt are wanting. The belt was then broad and rich, and worn on the outside of the clothes.—Two broken points might therefore have concluded the description of its ostentatious meanness. Steevens. The broken points might be the two broken tags to the laces. Tollet.

Note return to page 773 8&lblank; that have been candle-cases,] That is, I suppose, boots long left off, and after having been converted into cases to hold the ends of candles, returning to their first office. I do not know that I have ever met with the word candle-case in any other places, except the following preface to a dramatic dialogue, 1635, entitled, The Case is Alter'd, How?—“I write upon cases, neither knife-cases, pin-cases, nor candle-cases.” And again, in How to chuse a Good Wife from a Bad, 1608: “A bow-case, a cap-case, a comb-case, a lute-case, a fiddle-case, and a candle-case.” Steevens.

Note return to page 774 9&lblank; infected with the fashions,—past cure of the fives,] Fashions. So called in the West of England, but by the best writers on farriery, farcins, or farcy. Fives. So called in the West: vives elsewhere, and avives by the French; a distemper in horses, little differing from the strangles. Gray. Shakespeare is not the only writer who uses fashions for farcy. So, in Decker's comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600: “Shad. What shall we learn by travel? “Andel. Fashions. “Shad. That's a beastly disease.” Again, in the New Ordinary, by Brome: “My old beast is infected with the fashions, fashion-sick.” Again, in Decker's Guls Hornbook, 1609:—“Fashions was then counted a disease, and horses died of it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 775 1&lblank; near-legg'd before,] I do not understand what is meant by this description, unless it signifies that the horse moved his legs so close together as to cut himself. Steevens.

Note return to page 776 1&lblank; a crupper of velure,] Velure is velvet. Velours, Fr. So, in the World tossed at Tennis, 1620, by Middleton and Rowley: “Come, my well-lined soldier (with valour “Not velure) keep me warm.” Again, in the Noble Gentleman, by B. and Fletcher: “&lblank; an old hat, “Lin'd with velure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 777 2&lblank; stock] i. e. stocking. Steevens.

Note return to page 778 3an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick'd in't for a feather:] This was some ballad or drollery of that time, which the poet here ridicules, by making Petruchio prick it up in his foot-boy's old hat for a feather. His speakers are perpetually quoting scraps and stanzas of old ballads, and often very obscurely; for, so well are they adapted to the occasion, that they seem of a piece with the rest. In Shakespeare's time, the kingdom was over-run with these doggrel compositions. And he seems to have borne them a very particular grudge. He frequently ridicules both them and their maker with excellent humour. In Much Ado about Nothing, he makes Benedict say, Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I get again with drinking, prick out my eyes with a ballad-maker's pen. As the bluntness of it would make the execution of it extremely painful. And again, in Troilus and Cressida, Pandarus in his distress having repeated a very stupid stanza from an old ballad, says, with the highest humour, There never was a truer rhime; let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse. We see it, we see it. Warburton.

Note return to page 779 3Enter Petruchio and Grumio. Thus in the original play— “Enter Ferando, basely attired, and a red cap on his head.” “Feran. Good-morrow, father: Polidor well met: “You wonder, I know, that I have staide so long. “Alfon. Yea, marry sonne: we were almost persuaded “That we should scarce have had our bridegroom here: “But say, why art thou thus basely attired? “Feran. Thus richly, father, you should have saide; “For when my wife and I are married once, “Shee's such a shrew, if we should once fall out, “Sheele pull my costly sutes over mine eares, “And therefore am I thus attir'd a while: “For many things I tell you's in my head, “And none must know thereof but Kate and I; “For we shall live like lambes and lions sure: “Nor lambs to lions never were so tame, “If once they lie within the lions pawes, “As Kate to me, if we were married once: “And therefore, come, lets to church presently. “Pol. Fie, Ferando! not thus attir'd: for shame, “Come to my chamber, and there suite thyselfe, “Of twenty sutes that I did never weare. “Feran. Tush Polidor, I have as many sutes “Fantastike made to fit my humor so, “As any in Athens; and as richly wrought “As was the massie robe that late adorn'd “The stately legat of the Persian king, “And this from them I have made choice to weare. “Alfon. I prethee, Ferando, let me intreat, “Before thou go'st unto the church with us, “To put some other sute upon thy backe. “Feran. Not for the world, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 780 4&lblank; to disgress;] to deviate from any promise. Johnson.

Note return to page 781 5Tra. But, sir, our love] Our is an injudicious interpolation. The first folio reads—But, sir, love concerneth us to add, Her father's liking—which I think, should be thus corrected: But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add Her father's liking. &lblank; We must suppose, that Lucentio had before informed Tranio in private of his having obtained Bianca's love; and Tranio here resumes the conversation, by observing, that to her love it concerns them to add her father's consent; and then goes on to propose a scheme for obtaining the latter. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 782 6As willingly &c.] This is a proverbial saying. See Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 783 7&lblank; quaff'd off the muscadel,] It appears from this passage, and the following one in The History of the two Maids of Moreclacke, a comedy by Robert Armin, 1609, that it was the custom to drink wine immediately after the marriage ceremony. Armin's play begins thus: Enter a Maid strewing flowers, and a serving-man perfuming the door. “Maid. Strew, strew. “Man. The muscadine stays for the bride at church. “The priest and Hymen's ceremonies 'tend “To make them man and wife.” Again, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: &lblank; “and when we are at church, bring the wine and cakes.” In Ben Jonson's Magnetic Lady, the wine drank on this occasion is called a “knitting cup.” Again, in No Wit like a Woman's, by Middleton: “Even when my lip touch'd the contracting cup.” There was likewise a flower that borrowed its name from this ceremony. “Bring sweet carnations, and sops in wine, “Worne of paramours.” Hobbinol's Dittie, &c. by Spenser. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady: “Were the rosemary branches dipp'd, and all “The hippocras and cakes eat and drunk off; “Were these two arms encompass'd with the hands “Of batchelors to lead me to the church, &c.” Steevens. In an old canzonet on a wedding, set to musick by Morley, 1606: “Sops in wine, spice-cakes are a dealing.” Farmer. The fashion of introducing a bowl of wine into the church at a wedding to be drank by the bride and bridegroom and persons present, was very anciently a constant ceremony; and, as appears from this passage, not abolished in our author's age. We find it practised at the magnificent marriage of queen Mary and Philip, in Winchester cathedral, 1554. “The trumpetts sounded, and they both returned to their traverses in the quire, and there remayned untill masse was done: at which tyme, wyne and sopes were hallowed and delyvered to them both.” Collect. Append. Vol. IV. p. 400. edit. 1770. Mr. Warton.

Note return to page 784 8&lblank; the oats have eaten the horses.] There is still a ludicrous expression used when horses have staid so long in a place as to have eaten more than they are worth—viz. that their heads are too big for the stable-door. I suppose Grumio has some such meaning, though it is more openly express'd, as follows, in the original play. “Enter Ferando and Kate, and Alfonso and Polidor, and Emilia, and Aurelius and Phylema.” “Feran. Father, farewel; my Kate and I must home: “Sirrha, go make ready my horse presently. “Alfon. Your horse! what son, I hope you do but jest; “I am sure you will not go so suddainely. “Kate. Let him go or tarry, I am resolv'd to stay; “And not to travel on my wedding day. “Feran. Tut, Kate, I tel thee we must needes go home: “Vilaine, hast thou sadled my horse? “San. Which horse? your curtall? “Feran. Souns you slave, stand you prating here? “Saddle the bay gelding for your mistris. “Kate. Not for me, for I will not go. “San. The ostler will not let me have him: you owe ten pence “For his meate, and 6 pence for stuffing my mistris saddle. “Feran. Here, villaine; goe pay him strait. “San. Shall I give him another pecke of lavender? “Feran. Out slave, and bring them presently to the dore. “Alfon. Why son, I hope at least youle dine with us. “San. I pray you, master, lets stay til dinner be done. “Feran. Sounes vilaine, art thou here yet? [Exit Sander. “Come, Kate, our dinner is provided at home. “Kate. But not for me, for here I mean to dine: “Ile have my wil in this as well as you; “Though you in madding mood would leave your friends, “Despite of you Ile tarry with them still. “Feran. I Kate thou shalt, but at some other time: “When as thy sisters here shall be espoused, “Then thou and I wil keepe our wedding-day, “In better sort then now we can provide; “For heere I promise thee before them all, “We will ere longe returne to them againe: “Come, Kate, stand not on termes; we will away; “This is my day, to-morrow thou shalt rule, “And I will doe whatever thou commandes. “Gentlemen, farewell, wee'l take our leaves; “It will be late before that we come home. [Exeunt Ferando and Kate. “Pol. Farewell Ferando, since you will be gone. “Alfon. So mad a couple did I never see, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 785 9Was ever man so ray'd?] That is, was ever man so mark'd with lashes. Johnson. It rather means bewray'd, i. e. made dirty. So Spenser speaking of a fountain, b. ii. cant. 8 st. 32: “Which she increased with her bleeding heart, “And the clean waves with purple gore did ray.” Again, b. iii. cant. 8. st. 32: “The whiles the piteous lady up did rise, “Ruffled and foully ray'd with filthy soil.” Tollet. So, in The last Will and Testament of Summer, 1600: “Let there be a few rushes laid in the place where Backwinter shall tumble, for fear of raying his clothes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 786 1a little pot, and soon hot,] This is a proverbial expression. It introduced in the Isle of Gulls, 1633: “—Though I be but a little pot, I shall be as soon hot as another.” Steevens.

Note return to page 787 2Gru. &lblank; winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistress, and my self, fellow Curtis. Curt. Away, you three inch'd fool; I am no beast.] Why, had Grumio call'd him one; to give his resentment any colour? We must read as, without question, Shakespeare wrote: &lblank; and thy self, fellow Curtis. Why Grumio said that winter had tamed Curtis, was for his slowness in shewing Grumio to a good fire. Besides, all the joke consists in the sense of this alteration. Warburton. “Winter, says Grumio, tames man, woman, and beast: for it has tamed my old master, my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.—Away, you three-inch'd fool, replies Curtis, I am no beast. Why, asks Dr. Warburton, had Grumio call'd him one? he alters therefore myself to thyself, and all the editors follow him. But there is no necessity; if Grumio calls himself a beast, and Curtis, Fellow; surely he calls Curtis a beast likewise. Malvolio takes this sense of the word, “let this fellow be look'd to!—Fellow! not Malvolio, after my degree, but fellow!” In Ben Jonson's Case is Altered, “What says my Fellow Onion?” quoth Christophero.—“All of a house, replies Onion, but not fellows.” In the old play, call'd The Return from Parnassus, we have a curious passage, which shews the opinion of contemporaries concerning the learning of Shakespeare; this use of the word fellow brings it to my remembrance. Burbage and Kempe are introduced to teach the university-men the art of acting, and are represented (particularly Kempe) as leaden spouts—very illiterate. “Few of the university, says Kempe, pen plays well; they smell too much of that writer Ovid, and that writer Metamorphosis:— why, here's our Fellow Shakespeare puts them all down.” Farmer. The sentence delivered by Grumio is proverbial: “Wedding, and ill-wintering, tame both man and beast.” See Ray's Collection. Steevens.

Note return to page 788 3Away, you three-inch fool!] i. e. with a skull three inches thick, a phrase taken from the thicker sort of planks. Warburton.

Note return to page 789 4Why thy horn is a foot, and so long am I, at the least.] Though all the copies agree in this reading, Mr. Theobald says, yet he cannot find what horn Curtis had; therefore he alters it to my horn. But the common reading is right, and the meaning is that he had made Curtis a cuckold. Warburton.

Note return to page 790 5Jack boy, &c.] fragment of some old ballad. Warburton. Jack boy, ho boy. Dr. Warburton is nearly right in his conjecture on this passage: It is the beginning of an old round in three parts, here given with the music. Jack boy! ho Boy! Sir John Hawkins.

Note return to page 791 6be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without?] i. e. Are the drinking vessels clean, and the maid servants dress'd? But the Oxford Editor alters it thus: Are the Jacks fair without, the Jills fair within? What his conceit is in this, I confess I know not. Warburton. Hanmer's meaning seems to be this: Are the men who are waiting without the house to receive my master, dress'd; and the maids, who are waiting within, dress'd too? I believe the poet meant to play upon the words Jack and Jill, which signify two drinking measures, as well as men and maid servants. The distinction made in the questions concerning them, was owing to this. The Jacks being of leather, could not be made to appear beautiful on the outside, but were very apt to contract foulness within; whereas, the Jills, being of metal, were expected to be kept bright externally, and were not liable to dirt on the inside like the leather. The quibble on the former of these words I find in the Atheist's Tragedy, by C. Turner, 1611: “&lblank; have you drunk yourselves mad? “1 Ser. My lord, the Jacks abus'd me. “D'Am. I think they are jacks indeed that have abus'd thee.” “I owe money to several hostesses, and you know such jills will quickly be upon a man's jack.” Puritan Widow, 1600. In this last instance, the allusion to drinking measures is evident. Steevens.

Note return to page 792 7&lblank; bemoil'd;] i. e. be-draggled, bemired. Steevens.

Note return to page 793 8&lblank; how he swore, And how she pray'd—that never pray'd before;] These lines, with little variation, are found in the old copy of K. Leir, published before that of Shakespeare. Steevens.

Note return to page 794 9garters of an indifferent knit:] What is the sense of this I know not, unless it means, that their garters should be fellows; indifferent, or not different, one from the other. Johnson. This is rightly explained. So, in Hamlet: “As the indifferent children of the earth.” Steevens. In Shakespeare's time indifferent was used for different. Thus Speed in his Hist. of Great Britaine, 1614, p. 779, describing the French and English armies at the battle of Agincourt, says, —“The face of these hoasts were diverse and indifferent; the French gallant, fresh, and through vaine hope of honour already mounted above men of mean rank;—the English weake, weary, and sore-starved.” So, in Aretine's Hist. of the Goths, translated by Golding, 1563. “In a place of advantage and easie to the Goths, but very untoward and un-indifferent for the souldiers of Belisarius.” That garters of a different knit were formerly worn, appears from &grT;&grE;&grX;&grN;&grO;&grG;&grA;&grM;&grI;&grA;, or the Marriages of the Arts, by Barton Holyday, 1630, where the following stage direction occurs. “Phantastes in a branched velvet jerkin—red silk stockings, and particoloured garters.” Malone.

Note return to page 795 1Enter Petruchio, &c.] Thus the original play. Enter Ferando and Kate. “Feran. Now welcome Kate. Wheres these villaines “Heere? what, not supper yet upon the boord! “Nor table spread, nor nothing done at all! “Where's that villaine that I sent before? “San. Now, adsum, sir. “Feran. Come hither you villaine; Ile cut your nose “You rogue: help me off with my boots: wilt please “You to lay the cloth? Sowns the villaine “Hurts my foote: pull easily I say: yet againe? He beates them all. They cover the boord, and fetch in the meate. “Sowns, burnt and scorch't! who drest this meate? “Wil. Forsooth, John Cooke. He throwes downe the table and meate, and all, and beates them all. “Feran. Goe, you villaines; bring me such meate? “Out of my sight, I say, and beare it hence. “Come, Kate, wee'l have other meate provided: “Is there a fire in my chamber, sir? “San. I, forsooth. [Exeunt Ferando and Kate. “Manent serving men, and eate up all the meate. “Tom. Sownes, I thinke of my conscience my maister's madde since he was married. “Wil. I laft what a boxe he gave Sander “For pulling off his bootes. Enter Ferando againe. “San. I hurt his foote for the nonce man. “Feran. Did you so, you damned villaine? He beates them all out againe. “This humour must I hold me to a while, “To bridle and hold backe my head-strong wise, “With curbes of hunger, ease, and want of sleepe: “Nor sleep nor meate shall she enjoy to night; “Ile mew her up as men do mew their hawkes, “And make her gently come unto the lewre: “Were she as stubborne and as full of strength “As was the Thracian horse Alcides tamde, “That king Egeus fed with flesh of men, “Yet would I pull her downe and make her come, “As hungry hawkes doe flie unto their lewre. [Exit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 796 2&lblank; no link to colour Peter's hat,] Link, I believe, is the same with what we now call lamp-black. Johnson. A link is a torch of pitch. Greene, in his Mihil Mumchance, says—“This cozenage is used likewise in selling old hats found upon dunghills, instead of newe, blackt over with the smoake of an old linke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 797 3&lblank; Soud, soud, &c.] That is, sweet, sweet. Soot, and sometimes sooth, is sweet. So, in Milton, to sing soothly, is, to sing sweetly. Johnson. So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578. “He'll hang handsome young men for the soote sinne of of love.” Steevens.

Note return to page 798 4It was the friar of orders grey,] Dispersed through Shakespeare's plays are many little fragments of ancient ballads, the entire copies of which cannot now be recovered. Many of these being of the most beautiful and pathetic simplicity, Dr. Percy has selected some of them, and connected them together with a few supplemental stanzas; a work, which at once shews his own poetical abilities, as well as his respect to the truly venerable remains of our most ancient bards. Steevens.

Note return to page 799 6And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:] This cousin Ferdinand, who does not make his personal appearance on the scene, is mentioned, I suppose, for no other reason than to give Katharine a hint, that he could keep even his own relations in order, and make them obedient as his spaniel Troilus. Steevens.

Note return to page 800 7&lblank; full-gorg'd, &c.] A hawk too much fed was never tractable. So, in the Tragedie of Crœsus, 1604: “And like a hooded hawk, gorg'd with vain pleasures, “At random flies, and wots not where he is.” Again, in the Booke of Haukyng, bl. l. no date: “&lblank; ye shall say your hauke is full-gorged and not cropped.” The lure was only a thing stuff'd like that kind of bird which the hawk was designed to pursue. The use of the lure was to tempt him back after he had flown. Steevens.

Note return to page 801 8&lblank; to man my haggard,] A haggard is a wild hawk; to man a hawk is to tame her. Johnson. So, in a comedy called The Isle of Gulls, 1606: “Haggard, I'll make your proud heart stoop to the lure of obedience.” Steevens.

Note return to page 802 9&lblank; watch her as we watch these kites,] Thus in the same book of Haukyng, &c. bl. l. commonly called, The Book of St. Albans. “And then the same night after the teding, wake her all night, and on the morrowe all day.” Again, in the Lady Errant, by Cartwright: “We'll keep you as they do hawks; watching you until you leave your wildness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 803 1This is the way to kill a wife with kindness;] An allusion might be intended to Heywood's play, called, A Woman killed with Kindness, which was acted in 1604, and perhaps before. Malone.

Note return to page 804 2Is't possible, friend Licio, &c.] This scene, Mr. Pope, upon what authority I can't pretend to guess, has in his editions made the first of the fifth act: in doing which, he has shewn the very power and force of criticism. The consequence of this judicious regulation is, that two unpardonable absurdities are fixed upon the author, which he could not possibly have committed. For, in the first place, by this shuffling the scenes out of their true position, we find Hortensio, in the fourth act, already gone from Baptista's to Petruchio's country-house; and afterwards in the beginning of the fifth act we find him first forming the resolution of quitting Bianca; and Tranio immediately informs us, he is gone to the Taming-school to Petruchio. There is a figure, indeed, in rhetorick, call'd &grura;&grs;&grt;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grn; &grp;&grr;&groa;&grt;&gre;&grr;&gro;&grn;; but this is an abuse of it, which the rhetoricians will never adopt upon Pope's authority. Again, by this misplacing, the Pedant makes his first entrance, and quits the stage with Tranio in order to go and dress himself like Vincentio, whom he was to personate: but his second entrance is upon the very heels of his exit; and without any interval of an act, or one word intervening, he comes out again equipp'd like Vincentio. If such a critick be fit to publish a stage-writer, I shall not envy Mr. Pope's admirers, if they should think fit to applaud his sagacity. I have replaced the scenes in that order, in which I found them in the old books. Theobald.

Note return to page 805 3Ay, and he'll tame her. &c.] Thus in the original play: “&lblank; he means to tame his wife ere long. “Val. He saies so. “Aurel. Faith he's gon unto the taming-schoole. “Val. The taming-schoole! why is there such a place? “Aurel. I: and Ferando is the maister of the schoole.” Steevens.

Note return to page 806 4&lblank; charm her chattering tongue.] So, in K. Henry VI. P. III: “Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 5An ancient angel] For angel Mr. Theobald, and after him sir T. Hanmer and Dr. Warburton, read engle. Johnson. It is true that the word enghle, which sir T. Hanmer calls a gull, deriving it from engluer, Fr. to catch with bird-lime, is sometimes used by B. Jonson. It cannot, however, bear that meaning at present, as Biondello confesses his ignorance of the quality of the person who is afterwards persuaded to represent the father of Lucentio. The precise meaning of it is not ascertained in Jonson, neither is the word to be found in any of the original copies of Shakespeare. Angel primitively signifies a messenger, but perhaps this sense is not strictly applicable to the passage before us. So, Ben Jonson, in the Sad Shepherd: “&lblank; the dear good angel of the spring, “The nightingale.” &lblank; And Chapman, in his translation of Homer, always calls a messenger an angel. See particularly B. xxiv. In the Scornful Lady of Beaumont and Fletcher, an old usurer is indeed called: “&lblank; old angel of gold.” Steevens.

Note return to page 808 6Master, a mercatantè, or a pedant,] The old editions read marcantant. The Italian word mercatantè is frequently used in the old plays for a merchant, and therefore I have made no scruple of placing it here. The modern editors, who printed the word as they found it spelt in the folio and quarto, were obliged to supply a syllable to make out the verse, which the Italian pronunciation renders unnecessary. A pedant was the common name for a teacher of languages. So, in Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson: “He loves to have a fencer, a pedant, and a musician, seen in his lodgings.” Steevens. Mercatantè. So, Spenser, in the third book of his Fairy Queen: “Sleeves dependant Albanesè-wise.” And our author has Veronesè in his Othello. Farmer.

Note return to page 809 7&lblank; Surely like a father.] I know not what he is, says the speaker, however this is certain, he has the gait and countenance of a fatherly man. Warburton.

Note return to page 810 8'Tis death for any one in Mantua &c.] So, in the Comedy of Errors: “&lblank; if any Syracusan born “Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies. Steevens.

Note return to page 811 9To pass assurance &c.] To pass assurance means to make a conveyance or deed. Deeds are by law-writers called, “The common assurances of the realm,” because thereby each man's property is assured to him. So, in a subsequent scene of this act, “they are busied about a counterfeit assurance.” Malone.

Note return to page 812 1Go with me, &c.] There is an old comedy called Supposes, translated from Ariosto, by George Gascoigne. Thence Shakespeare borrowed this part of the plot, (as well as some of the phraseology) though Theobald pronounces it his own invention. There likewise he found the quaint name of Petruchio. My young master and his man exchange habits, and persuade a Scenæse, as he is called, to personate the father, exactly as in this play, by the pretended danger of his coming from Sienna to Ferrara, contrary to the order of the government. Farmer.

Note return to page 813 2Enter Katharine and Grumio.] Thus the original play,— “Enter Sander and his mistris. “San. Come, mistris. “Kate. Sander, I prethee helpe me to some meat; “I am so faint that I can scarcely stand. “San. I marry mistris: but you know my maister “Has given me a charge that you must eat nothing, “But that which he himself giveth you. “Kate. Why man, thy master needs never know it. “San. You say true, indeed. Why looke you, mistris; “What say you to a pece of bieffe and mustard now? “Kate. Why, I say 'tis excellent meat; canst thou helpe me to some? “San. I, I could helpe you to some, but that “I doubt the mustard is too chollerick for you. “But what say you to a sheapes head and garlicke? “Kate. Why any thing; I care not what it be. “San. I, but the garlicke I doubt will make your breath stincke; and then my master will course me for letting you eate it. But what say you to a fat capon? “Kate. That's meate for a king; sweete Sander help me to some of it. “San. Nay, berlady, then 'tis too deere for us; we must not meddle with the king's meate. “Kate. Out villaine! dost thou mocke me? “Take that for thy sawsinesse. [She beats him. “San. Sounes are you so light-fingred, with a murrin? “Ile keepe you fasting for it these two daies. “Kate. I tell thee, villaine, Ile tear the flesh off “Thy face and eate it, and thou prate to me thus. “San. Here comes my master now: heele course you. “Enter Ferando with a piece of meate upon his dagger point, and Polidor with him. “Feran. See here, Kate, I have provided meat for thee: “Here, take it: what, is't not worthy thanks? “Go, sirha, take it away againe, you shall be “Thankful for the next you have. “Kate. Why, I thanke you for it. “Feran. Nay, now tis not worth a pin: go, sirha, and take it hence, I say. “San. Yes, sir, Ile carrie it hence: Master, let her “Have none; for she can fight, as hungry as she is. “Pol. I pray you, sir, let it stand; for Ile eate “Some with her myselfe. “Feran. Wel, sirha, set it down againe. “Kate. Nay, nay, I pray you, let him take it hence, “And keep it for your owne diet, for Ile none; “Ile nere be beholding to you for your meat: “I tel thee flatly here unto thy teeth, “Thou shalt not keepe me nor feed me as thou list, “For I will home againe unto my father's house. “Feran. I, when y'are meeke and gentle, but not before: “I know your stomacke is not yet come downe, “Therefore no marvel thou canst not eat: “And I will go unto your father's house. “Come Polidor, let us go in againe; “And Kate come in with us: I know, ere long, “That thou and I shall lovingly agree.” The circumstance of Petruchio bringing meat to Katharine on the point of his dagger, is a ridicule on Marloe's Tamburlaine, who treats Bajazet in the same manner. Steevens.

Note return to page 814 3&lblank; what, sweeting, all amort?] This Gallicism is common to many of the old plays. So, in Wily Beguil'd: “Why how now, Sophos, all amort? Again, in Ram-Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “What all amort! What's the matter?” Steevens.

Note return to page 815 4And all my pains is sorted to no proof:] And all my labour has ended in nothing, or proved nothing. “We tried an experiment, but it sorted not.” Bacon. Johnson.

Note return to page 816 5&lblank; fardingals, and things;] Though things is a poor word, yet I have no better, and perhaps the authour had not another that would rhime. I once thought to transpose the words rings and things, but it would make little improvement. Johnson. However poor the word, the poet must be answerable for it, as he had used it before, act II. sc. 5. when the rhime did not force it upon him. We will have rings, and things, and fine array. Again, in the Tragedy of Hoffman, 1632: “'Tis true that I am poor, and yet have things, “And golden rings, &c.” A thing is a trifle too inconsiderable to deserve particular discrimination. Again, in Warner's Albion's England, 1602: “And after meat presented him with many a sight and thing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 817 6Enter Haberdasher.] Thus in the original play. “San. Master, the haberdasher has brought my mistris home her cap here. “Feran. Come hither, sirha: what have you there? “Haber. A velvet cap, sir, and it please you. “Feran. Who spoke for it? Didst thou, Kate? “Kate. What if I did? Come hither, sirha, give me the cap; Ile see if it will fit me. [She sets it on her head. “Feran. O monstrous! why it becomes thee not. “Let me see it, Kate: here, sirha, take it hence; “This cap is out of fashion quite. “Kate. The fashion is good inough: belike you mean to make a fool of me. “Feran. Why true, he means to make a foole of thee, “To have thee put on such a curtald cap: “Sirha, begone with it. “Enter the Taylor with a gowne. “San. Here is the Taylor too with my mistris gowne. “Feran. Let me see it, Taylor: What, with cuts and jags? “Sounes, thou vilaine, thou hast spoil'd the gowne. “Taylor. Why, sir, I made it as your man gave me direction; “You may read the note here. “Feran. Come hither, sirha: Taylor, read the note. “Taylor. Item, a faire round compass'd cape. “San. I, that's true. “Taylor. And a large truncke sleeve. “San. That's a lie maister; I said two truncke sleeves. “Feran. Well, sir, go forward. “Taylor. Item, a loose-bodied gowne. “San. Maister, if ever I said loose bodies gowne, “Sew me in a seame, and beat me to death “With a bottom of browne thred. “Taylor. I made it as the note bade me. “San. I say the note lies in his throate, and thou too, and thou sayest it. “Taylor. Nay, nay, ne'er be so hot, sirha, for I feare you not. “San. Dost thou heare, Tailor? thou hast braved many men: “Brave not me. Th'ast fac'd many men. “Taylor. Wel, sir. “San. Face not me: I'le neither be fac'd, nor braved, at thy hands, I can tell thee. “Kate. Come, come, I like the fashion of it wel inough; “Heere's more adoe than needes; I'le have it, I; “And if you doe not like it, hide your eies: “I think I shall have nothing, by your will. “Feran. Go, I say, and take it up for your maister's use. “San. Souns villaine, not for thy life; touch it not: “Souns, take up my mistris gowne to his maister's use! “Feran. Well, sir, what's your conceit of it? “San. I have a deeper conceit in it than you thinke for. Take up my mistris gowne to his maister's use! “Feran. Taylor, come hither; for this time make it: “Hence againe, and Ile content thee for thy paines. “Taylor. I thanke you, sir. [Exit Taylor. “Feran. Come, Kate, wee now will go see thy father's house, “Even in these honest meane abiliments; “Our purses shall be rich, our garments plaine, “To shrowd our bodies from the winter rage; “And that's inough, what should we care for more? “Thy sisters, Kate, to-morrow must be wed, “And I have promised them thou should'st be there: “The morning is well up; lets haste away; “It wil be nine a clocke ere we come there. “Kate. Nine a clocke! why 'tis already pass two in the afternoon, by al the clockes in towne. “Feran. I say tis but nine a clocke in the morning. “Kate. I say 'tis two a clocke in the afternoone. “Feran. It shall be nine then ere you go to your fathers: “Come backe againe; we will not goe to day: “Nothing but crossing me still? “Ile have you say as I doe, ere I goe. [Exeunt omnes. Steevens.

Note return to page 818 7&lblank; on a porringer;] The same thought occurs in King Henry VIII. “&lblank; rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head.” Steevens.

Note return to page 819 8Why sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak, &c.] Shakespeare has here copied nature with great skill. Petruchio, by frightening, starving, and overwatching his wife, had tamed her into gentleness and submission. And the audience expects to hear no more of the shrew: when on her being crossed, in the article of fashion and finery, the most inveterate folly of the sex, she flies out again, though for the last time, into all the intemperate rage of her nature. Warburton.

Note return to page 820 9A custard-coffin, &lblank;] A coffin was the ancient culinary term for the raised crust of a pye or custard. So, in Ben Jonson's Staple of News: “&lblank; if you spend “The red-deer pies in your house, or fell them forth, sir, “Cast so, that I may have their coffins all “Return'd, &c.” Again, in Ben Jonson's Masque of Gypsies Metamorphosed: “And coffin'd in crust 'till now she was hoary.” Steevens.

Note return to page 821 1Censer,] Censers in barber's shops, are now disused, but they may easily be imagined to have been vessels which, for the emission of the smoke, were cut with great number and varieties of interstices. Johnson.

Note return to page 822 2&lblank; thou thimble,] The taylor's trade having an appearance of effeminacy, has always been, among the rugged English, liable to sarcasms and contempt. Johnson.

Note return to page 823 3&lblank; be-mete] i. e. be-measure thee. Steevens.

Note return to page 824 5faced many things.] i. e. turned up many gowns, &c. with facings, &c. So, in Hen. IV: “To face the garment of rebellion “With some fine colour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 825 6&lblank; brav'd many men;] i. e. made many men fine. Bravery was the ancient term for elegance of dress. Steevens.

Note return to page 826 7&lblank; loose-body'd gown,] I think the joke is impair'd, unless we read with the original play already quoted—a loose body's gown. It appears, however, that loose-bodied gowns were the dress of harlots. Thus, in the Michaelmas Term by Middleton, 1607: “Dost dream of virginity now? remember a loose-bodied gown, wench, and let it go.” Steevens.

Note return to page 827 8&lblank; a small compass'd cape;] Stubbs, in his Anatomy of Abuses 1565, gives a most elaborate description of the gowns of women; and adds—“Some have capes reaching down to the midst of their backs, faced with velvet, or else with some fine wrought taffata, at the least, fringed about, very bravely.” Steevens. A compass'd cape is a round cape. To compass is to come round. Johnson.

Note return to page 828 9take thou the bill,] The same quibble between the written bill, and bill the ancient weapon carried by foot-soldiers, is to be met with in Timon. Steevens.

Note return to page 829 1&lblank; thy mete-yard,] i. e. thy measuring-yard. So, in the Miseries of Inforc'd Marriage, 1607: “Be not a bar between us, or my sword “Shall mete thy grave out.” Steevens.

Note return to page 830 2After this exit, the characters before whom the play is supposed to be exhibited, have been hitherto introduced from the original so often mentioned in the former notes. “Lord. Who's within there? “Enter Servants. “Asleep again! go take him easily up, and put him in his own apparel again. But see you wake him not in any case.” “Serv. It shall be done, my lord; come help to bear him hence. [They bear off Sly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 831 3I cannot but think that the direction about the Tinker, who is always introduced at the end of the acts, together with the change of the scene, and the proportion of each act to the rest, make it probable that the fifth act begins here. Johnson.

Note return to page 832 4Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus.] This line has in all the editions hitherto been given to Tranio. But Tranio could with no propriety speak this, either in his assumed or real character. Lucentio was too young to know any thing of lodging with his father, twenty years before at Genoa: and Tranio must be as much too young, or very unfit to represent and personate Lucentio. I have ventured to place the line to the Pedant, to whom it must certainly belong, and is a sequel of what he was before saying. Theobald. Shakespeare has taken a sign out of London, and hung it up in Padua: “Meet me an hour hence at the sign of the Pegasus in Cheapside.” Return from Parnassus, 1606: Again, in the Jealous Lovers by Randolph, 1632: “A pottle of elixir at the Pegasus, “Bravely carous'd, is more restorative.” Steevens.

Note return to page 833 5For curious I cannot be with you,] Curious is scrupulous. So, in Holinshed, p. 888: “The emperor obeying more compassion than the reason of things, was not curious to condescend to performe so good an office, &c.” Again, p. 890. “&lblank; and was not curious to call him to eat with him at his table.” Steevens.

Note return to page 834 6&lblank; Where then do you know best, Be we affy'd; &lblank;] This seems to be wrong. We may read more commodiously: &lblank; Where then you do know best Be we affie'd; &lblank; Or thus, which I think is right: Where then do you trow best, We be affied: &lblank; Johnson.

Note return to page 835 7And happily we might be interrupted.] Thus the old copy. Mr. Pope reads: And haply then we might be interrupted. Steevens. Happily, in Shakespeare's time, signified accidentally, as well as fortunately. It is rather surprising, that an editor should be guilty of so gross a corruption of his author's language, for the sake of modernizing his orthography. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 836 8Exit.] It seems odd management to make Lucentio go out here for nothing that appears, but that he may return again five lines lower. It would be better, I think, to suppose that he lingers upon the stage, till the rest are gone, in order to talk with Biondello in private. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 837 9I cannot tell; expect,] I can make no sense of expect. I rather believe this passage should be read thus.—I cannot tell; except—they are busied, &c. i. e. I cannot tell; except thus much; they are busied, &c. And below I would read—to the church; take, &c. i. e. go to the church; take, &c. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 838 1Exit.] Here, in the original play, the Tinker speaks again, and the scene continues thus. “Slie. Sim, must they be married now? “Lord. I my lord. “Enter Ferando, and Kate, and Sander. “Slie. Looke, Sim, the foole is come againe now. “Feran. Sirha, go fetch our horses forth, and bring them to the backe-gate presently. “San. I wil, sir, I warrant you. [Exit Sander. “Feran. Come, Kate: the moone shines cleere to-night, methinkes. “Kate. The moone! why husband you are deceiv'd; it is the sun. “Feran. Yet againe? come backe againe; it shal be the moone ere we come at your fathers. “Kate. Why Ile say as you say; it is the moone. “Feran. &lblank;, save the glorious moone! “Kate. &lblank;, save the glorious moone! “Feran. I am glad, Kate, your stomacke is come downe; “I know it well thou knowst it is the sun; “But I did trie to see if thou wouldst speake, “And crosse me now as thou hast done before; “And trust me, Kate, hadst thou not namde the moone, “We had gone backe againe as sure as death. “But soft, who's this that's comming here? “Enter the Duke of Cestus alone. “Duke. Thus al alone from Cestus am I come, “And left my princely court, and noble traine, “To come to Athens, and in this disguise “To see what course my son Aurelius takes. “But stay; here's some it may be travels thither: “Good sir, can you direct me the way to Athens? [Ferando speaks to the old man. His speech is very partially and incorrectly quoted by Mr. Pope in the following page. Steevens.

Note return to page 839 1Tell me, sweet Kate,] In the first sketch of this play, printed in 1607, we find two speeches in this place worth preserving, and seeming to be of the hand of Shakespeare, though the rest of that play is far inferior: “Fair lovely maiden, young and affable, “More clear of hue, and far more beautiful “Than precious sardonyx, or purple rocks “Of amethists, or glistering hyacinth &lblank; “&lblank; Sweet Catharine, this lovely woman &lblank; “Cath. Fair lovely lady, bright and chrystaline, “Beauteous and stately as the eye-train'd bird; “As glorious as the morning wash'd with dew, “Within whose eyes she takes her dawning beams, “And golden summer sleeps upon thy cheeks. “Wrap up thy radiations in some cloud, “Lest that thy beauty make this stately town “Uninhabitable as the burning zone, “With sweet reflections of thy lovely face. Pope. An attentive reader will perceive in this speech several words which are employed in none of the legitimate plays of Shakespeare. Such, I believe, are, sardonyx, hyacinth, eye-train'd, radiations, and especially uninhabitable; our poet generally using inhabitable in its room, as in Rich. II: “Or any other ground inhabitable.” These instances may serve as some slight proofs, that the former piece was not the work of Shakespeare; but I have since observed that Mr. Pope had changed inhabitable into uninhabitable. Steevens.

Note return to page 840 3&lblank; and then come back to my mistress as soon as I can.] The editions all agree in this reading; but what mistress was Biondello to come back to? he must certainly mean; “Nay, faith, sir, I must see you in the church; and then for fear I should be wanted, I'll run back to wait on Tranio, who at present personates you, and whom therefore I at present acknowledge for my master.” Theobald.

Note return to page 841 4&lblank; to Padua,] The reading of the old copies is from Padua, which is certainly wrong. The editors have made it to Padua, but it should rather be from Pisa. Both parties agree that Lucentio's father is come from Pisa, as indeed they necessarily must; the point in dispute is, whether he be at the door, or looking out of the window. Tyrwhitt.

Note return to page 842 5&lblank; a copatain-hat,] is I believe, a hat with a conical crown, such as was anciently worn by well-dressed men. Johnson. This kind of hat is twice mentioned by Gascoigne. See Hearbes, p. 154: “A coptankt hat made on a Flemish block. And again, in his Epilogue, p. 216: “With high copt hats, and feathers flaunt a flaunt.” In Stubbs's Anatomie of Abuses, printed 1595, there is an entire chapter “on the hattes of England,” beginning thus: “Sometimes they use them sharpe on the crowne, pearking up like the speare or shaft of a steeple, standing a quarter of a yard above the crowne of their heads, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 843 6&lblank; a sail-maker in Bergamo.] Chapman has a parallel passage in his Widow's Tears, a comedy, 1612: “&lblank; he draws the thread of his descent from Leda's distaff, when 'tis well known his grandfire cried coney-skins in Sparta.” Steevens.

Note return to page 844 7Call forth an officer, &c.] Here, in the original play, the Tinker speaks again: “Slie. I say weele have no sending to prison. “Lord. My lord, this is but the play; they're but in jest. “Slie. I tell thee, Sim, weele have no sending “To prison, that's flat: why Sim, am not I don Chrifto Vari? “Therefore I say they shall not goe to prison. “Lord. No more they shall not, my lord: They be runne away. “Slie. Are they run away, Sim? that's well: “Then gis some more drinke, and let them play againe. “Lord. Here, my lord.”Steevens.

Note return to page 845 8&lblank;couey-catch'd] i.e. deceived, cheated.Steevens.

Note return to page 846 9While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne.]The modern editors read supposers, but wrongly. This is a plain allusion to Gascoigne's comedy entitled Supposes, from which several of the incidents in this play are borrowed.Tyrwhitt. This is highly probable; but yet supposes is a word often used in its common sense, which, on the present occasion is sufficiently commodious. So, in Greene's Farewell to Folly, 1617: “—with Plato to build a commonwealth on supposes.” Shakespeare uses the word in Troilus and Cressida: “That we come short of our suppose so far, &c.” It appears likewise from the Preface to Greene's Metamorphosis, that supposes was a game of some kind. “After supposes, and such ordinary sports, were past, they fell to prattle, &c.” Again, in Drayton's epistle from K. John to Matilda:   “And tells me those are shadows and supposes.” To blear the eye, was an ancient phrase signifying to deceive. So, in Chaucer's Manciple's Tale: v. 17202. late edit.   “For all they waiting, blered is thin eye.” Again, in the 10th pageant of the Coventry Plays, in the British Museum, MS. Cott. Vesp. D. VIII:   “Shuld I now in age begynne to dote,   “If I her chyde, she wolde clowte my cote,   “Blere myne ey and pyke out a mote.”Steevens.

Note return to page 847 1My cake is dough:] This is a proverbial expression which I meet with in the old interlude of Tom Tyler and his Wife, 1598: “Alas poor Tom, his cake is dough.” Again, in The Case is Alter'd, 1609: “Steward, your cake is dough as well as mine.” Steevens.

Note return to page 848 2&lblank; swift] besides the original sense of speedy in motion, signified witty, quick-witted. So, in As You Like It, the Duke says of the Clown, “He is very swift and sententious.” Quick is now used in almost the same sense as nimble was in the age after that of our author. Heylin says of Hales, that he had known Laud for a nimble disputant. Johnson.

Note return to page 849 3&lblank; that gird, good Tranio.] A gird is a sarcasm, a gibe. So, in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, 1579: “Curculio may chatte til his heart ake, ere any be offended with his gyrdes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 850 4Let's each one send unto his wife;] Thus in the original play. “Feran. Come, gentlemen; nowe that supper's done, “How shall we spend the time til we go bed? “Aurel. Faith, if you wil, in trial of our wives, “Who wil come soonest at their husbands cal. “Pol. Nay, then Ferando, he must needes sit out; “For he may cal, I thinke, til he be weary, “Before his wife wil come before she list. “Feran. Tis wel for you that have such gentle wives: “Yet in this trial wil I not sit out; “It may be Kate will come as soone as I do send. “Aurel. My wife comes soonest, for a hundred pound. “Pol. I take it. Ile lay as much to yours, “That my wife comes as soone as I do send. “Aurel. How now, Ferando! you dare not lay belike. “Feran. Why true, I dare not lay indeed: “But how? So little money on so sure a thing. “A hundred pound! Why I have laid as much “Upon my dog in running at a deere. “She shal not come so far for such a trifle: “But wil you lay five hundred markes with me? “And whose wife soonest comes, when he doth cal, “And shewes herselfe most loving unto him, “Let him enjoy the wager I have laid: “Now what say you? Dare you adventure thus? “Pol. I, were it a thousand pounds, I durst presume “On my wife's love: and I will lay with thee. Enter Alfonso. “Alfon. How now sons! What in conference so hard? “May I, without offence, know what about? “Aurel. Faith, father, a waighty cause, about our wives: “Five hundred markes already we have laid; “And he whose wife doth shew most love to him, “He must injoy the wager to himselfe. “Alfon. Why then Ferando, he is sure to lose it: “I promise thee son, thy wife wil hardly come; “And therefore I would not wish thee lay so much. “Feran. Tush, father; were it ten times more, “I durst adventure on my lovely Kate: &lblank; “But if I lose, Ile pay, and so shall you. “Aurel. Upon mine honor, if I lose, Ile pay. “Pol. And so wil I upon my faith, I vow. “Feran. Then sit we downe, and let us send for them. “Alfon. I promise thee Ferando, I am afraid thou wilt lose. “Aurel. Ile send for my wife first: Valeria, “Go bid your mistris come to me. “Val. I wil, my lord. [Exit Valeria. “Aurel. Now for my hundred pound: &lblank; “Would any lay ten hundred more with me, “I know I should obtaine it by her love. “Feran. I pray—you have not laid too much already. “Aurel. Trust me, Ferando, I am sure you have; “For you, I dare presume, have lost it al. “Enter Valeria againe. “Now, sirha, what saies your mistris? “Val. She is something busie, but sheele come anone. “Feran. Why so; did I not tel you this before? “She was busie, and cannot come. “Aurel. I pray—your wife send you so good an answere: &lblank; “She may be busie, yet she saies shele come. “Feran. Wel, wel: Polidor, send you for your wife. “Pol. Agreed. Boy, desire your mistris to come hither. “Boy. I will, sir. [Exit. “Feran. I, so, so; he desires her to come. “Alfon. Polydor, I dare presume for thee, “I thinke thy wife wil not denie to come; “And I do marvel much, Aurelius, “That your wife came not when you sent for her. “Enter the Boy againe. “Pol. Now, wher's your mistris? “Boy. She bade me tell you that shee will not come: “And you have businesse, you must come to her. “Feran. O monstrous intollerable presumption, “Worse than a blasing star, or snow at midsummer, “Earthquakes, or any thing unseasonable! “She will not come; but he must come to her. “Pol. Wel, sir, I pray you, let's hear what “Answere your wife will make. “Feran. Sirha, command your mistris to come To me presently. Exit. Sander. “Aurel. I thinke, my wife, for all she did not come, “Wil prove most kind; for now I have no feare, “For I am sure Ferando's wife, she will not come. “Feran. The more's the pitty; then I must lose. “Enter Kate and Sander. “But I have won, for see where Kate doth come. “Kate. Sweete husband, did you send for me? “Feran. I did, my love, I sent for thee to come: “Come hither, Kate: What's that upon thy head? “Kate. Nothing, husband, but my cap, I thinke. “Feran. Pul it off and tread it under thy feet; “Tis foolish; I wil not have thee weare it. [“She takes off her cap and treads on it. “Pol. O wonderful metamorphosis! “Aurel. This is a wonder, almost past beleefe. “Feran. This is a token of her true love to me; “And yet Ile try her further you shall see. “Come hither, Kate: Where are thy sisters? “Kate. They be sitting in the bridal chamber. “Feran. Fetch them hither; and if they will not come, “Bring them perforce, and make them come with thee. “Kate. I will. “Alfon. I promise thee, Ferando, I would have sworne “Thy wife would ne'r have done so much for thee. “Feran. But you shal see she wil do more then this; “For see where she brings her sisters forth by force. “Enter Kate thrusting Phylema and Emilia before her, and makes them come unto their husbands cal. “Kate. See, husband, I have brought them both. “Feran. Tis wel done, Kate. “Emel. I sure; and like a loving peece, you're worthy “To have great praise for this attempt. “Phyle. I, for making a foole of herselfe and us. “Aurel. Beshrew thee, Phylema, thou hast “Lost me a hundred pound to night; “For I did lay that thou wouldst first have come. “Pol. But, thou, Emilia, has lost me a great deale more. “Emel. You might have kept it better then: “Who bade you lay? “Feran. Now, lovely Kate, before their husbands here, “I prethee tel unto these head-strong women “What dewty wives do owe unto their husbands. “Kate. Then, you that live thus by your pamper'd wils, “Now list to me, and marke what I shall say. &lblank; “Th' eternal power, that with his only breath, “Shall cause this end, and this beginning frame, “Not in time, nor before time, but with time confus'd, “For al the course of yeares, of ages, months, “Of seasons temperate, of dayes and houres, “Are tun'd and stopt by measure of his hand &lblank; “The first world was a forme without a forme, “A heape confus'd, a mixture al deform'd, “A gulfe of gulfes, a body bodilesse, “Where al the elements were orderlesse, “Before the great commander of the world, “The king of kings, the glorious God of heaven, “Who in six daies did frame his heavenly worke, “And made al things to stand in perfect course &lblank; “Then to his image he did make a man, “Olde Adam, and from his side asleepe, “A rib was taken; of which the Lord did make “The woe of man, so term'd by Adam then, “Woman, for that by her came sinne to us, “And for her sinne was Adam doom'd to die. “As Sara to her husband, so should we “Obey them, love them, keepe and nourish them, “If they by any meanes do want our helpes: “Laying our hands under their feet to tread, “If that by that we might procure their ease; “And, for a president, Ile first begin, “And lay my hand under my husband's feet. “[She laies her hand under her husband's feet. “Feran. Inough sweet; the wager thou hast won; “And they, I am sure, cannot deny the same. “Alfon. I, Ferando, the wager thou hast won; “And for to shew thee how I am pleas'd in this, “A hundred pounds I freely give thee more, “Another dowry for another daughter, “For she is not the same she was before. “Feran. Thanks, sweet father; gentlemen, good night; “For Kate and I will leave you for to-night: “Tis Kate and I am wed, and you are sped: “And so farewell, for we will to our beds. “Exit Ferando, Kate, and Sander. “Alfon. Now Aurelius, what say you to this? “Aurel. Beleeve me, father, I rejoyce to see “Ferando and his wife so lovingly agree. “Exeunt Aurelius and Phylema, and Alfonso and Valeria. “Emel. How now, Polidor? in a dumpe? What saist thou, man? “Pol. I say, thou art a shrew. “Emel. That's better than a sheepe. “Pol. Well, since tis done, come, lets goe. “Exeunt Polidor and Emelia. “Then enter two bearing of Slie in his owne apparell againe, and leaves him where they found him, and then goes out: then enters the Tapster. “Tapster. Now that the darkesome night is overpast, “And dawning day appeares in christall skie, “Now must I haste abroade: but soft! who's this? “What Slie? o wondrous! hath he laine heere all night? “Ile wake him; I thinke hee's starved by this, “But that his belly was so stuff'd with ale: “What now Slie! awake for shame,—&c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 851 5Then vail your stomachs, &lblank;] i. e. abate your pride, your spirit. Steevens.

Note return to page 852 6Though you hit the white;] To hit the white is a phrase borrowed from archery: the mark was commonly white. Here it alludes to the name Bianca, or white. Johnson. So, in Feltham's Answer to Ben Jonson's ode at the end of his New Inn: “As oft you've wanted brains “And art to strike the white, “As you have levell'd right.” Again, in Sir Aston's Cokayn's Poems, 1658: “And as an expert archer hits the white.” Malone.

Note return to page 853 7At the conclusion of this piece, Mr. Pope continued his insertions from the old play, as follows: Enter two servants, bearing Sly in his own apparel, and leaving him on the stage. Then enter a Tapster. “Sly. [awaking.] Sim, give's some more wine.—What, all the players gone?—Am I not a lord? “Tap. A lord, with a murrain?—Come, art thou drunk still? “Sly. Who's this? Tapster!—Oh, I have had the bravest dream that ever thou heard'st in all thy life. “Tap. Yea, marry, but thou hadst best get thee home, for your wife will curse you for dreaming here all night. “Sly. Will she? I know how to tame a shrew. I dreamt upon it all this night, and thou hast wak'd me out of the best dream that ever I had. But I'll to my wife, and tame her too, if she anger me.” These passages, which have been hitherto printed as part of the work of Shakespeare, I have sunk into the notes, that they may be preserved, as they seem to be necessary to the integrity of the piece, though they really compose no part of it, being neither published in the folio or quarto edition. Mr. Pope, however, has quoted them with a degree of inaccuracy which would have deserved censure, had they been of greater consequence than they are. The players delivered down this comedy, among the rest, as one of Shakespeare's own; and its intrinsic merit bears sufficient evidence to the propriety of their decision.

Note return to page 854 May I add a few reasons why I neither believe the former comedy of the Taming the Shrew, 1607, nor the old play of King John in two parts, to have been the work of Shakespeare? He generally followed every novel or history from whence he took his plots, as closely as he could; and is so often indebted to these originals for his very thoughts and expressions, that we may fairly pronounce him not to have been above borrowing, to spare himself the labour of invention. It is therefore probable, that both these plays, (like that of Hen. V. in which Oldcastle is introduced) were the unsuccessful performances of contemporary players. Shakespeare saw they were meanly written, and yet that their plans were such as would furnish incidents for a better dramatist. He therefore might lazily adopt the order of their scenes, still writing the dialogue anew, and inserting little more from either piece, than a few lines which he might think worth preserving, or was too much in haste to alter. It is no uncommon thing in the literary world, to see the track of others followed by those who would never have given themselves the trouble to mark out one of their own. The following are the observations of Dr. Hurd on the Induction to this comedy. They are taken from his Notes on the Epistle to Augustus. “The Induction, as Shakespeare calls it, to The Taming of the Shrew, deserves, for the excellence of its moral design and beauty of execution, throughout, to be set in a just light. “This Prologue sets before us the picture of a poor drunken beggar, advanced, for a short season, into the proud rank of nobility. And the humour of the scene is taken to consist in the surprize and awkward deportment of Sly, in this his strange and unwonted situation. But the poet had a further design and more worthy his genius, than this farcical pleasantry. He would expose, under cover of this mimic fiction, the truly ridiculous figure of men of rank and quality, when they employ their great advantages of place and fortune, to no better purposes, than the soft and selfish gratification of their own intemperate passions: Of those, who take the mighty privilege of descent and wealth to lie in the freer indulgence of those pleasures, which the beggar as fully enjoys, and with infinitely more propriety and consistency of character, than their lordships. “To give a poignancy to his satire, the poet makes a man of quality himself, just returned from the chace, with all his mind intent upon his pleasures, contrive this metamorphosis of the beggar, in the way of sport and derision only; not considering, how severely the jest was going to turn upon himself. His first reflections, on seeing this brutal drunkard, are excellent: “O! monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! “Grim death! how foul and loathsome is thy image! “The offence is taken at human nature, degraded into bestiality; and at a state of stupid insensibility, the image of death. Nothing can be juster, than this representation. For these lordly sensualists have a very nice and fastidious abhorrence of such ignoble brutality. And what alarms their fears with the prospect of death, cannot chuse but present a foul and loathsome image. It is, also, said in perfect consistency with the true Epicurean character, as given by these, who understood it best, and which is, here, sustained by this noble disciple. For, though these great masters of wisdom made pleasure the supreme good, yet, they were among the first, as we are told, to cry out against the Asotos; meaning such gross sensualists, “qui in mensam vomunt & qui de conviviis auferuntur, crudique postridie se rursus ingurgitant.” But as for the “mundos, elegantes, optumis cocis, pistoribus, piscatu, aucupio, venatione, his omnibus exquisitis, vitantes cruditatem,” these they complimented with the name of beatos and sapientes. [Cic. de Fin. lib. ii. 8.] “And then, though their philosophy promised an exemption from the terrors of death, yet the boasted exemption consisted only in a trick of keeping it out of the memory by continual dissipation; so that when accident forced it upon them, they could not help on all occasions, expressing the most dreadful apprehensions of it. “However, this transient gloom is soon succeeded by gayer prospects. My lord bethinks himself to raise a little diversion out of this adventure: “Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man: And, so, proposes to have him conveyed to bed, and blessed with all those regalements of costly luxury, in which a selfish opulence is wont to find its supreme happiness. “The project is carried into execution. And now the jest begins. Sly, awakening from his drunken nap, calls out as usual for a cup of ale. On which the Lord, very characteristically, and (taking the poets design* [Subnote: *To apprehend it thoroughly, it may not be amiss to recollect what the sensible Bruyere observes on a like occasion. “Un Grand aime le Champagne, abhorre la Brie; il s'enyvre de meillieure vin, que l'homme de peuple: seule difference, que la crapule laisse entre les conditions les plus disproportionnées, entre le Seigneur, & l'Estaffier.” [Tom. ii. p. 12.]], as here explained) with infinite satyr, replies: “O! that a mighty man of such descent, “Of such possessions, and so high esteem, “Should be infused with so foul a spirit! “And again, afterwards: “Oh! noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, “Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment; “And banish hence these lowly, abject themes. For, what is the recollection of this high descent and large possessions to do for him? And, for the introduction of what better thoughts and nobler purposes, are these lowly abject themes to be discarded? Why, the whole inventory of Patrician pleasures is called over; and he hath his choice of whichsoever of them suits best with his lordship's improved palate. A long train of servants, ready at his beck: music, such as twenty caged nightingales do sing: couches, softer and sweeter than the lustful bed of Semiramis: burning odours, and distilled waters: floors bestrewed with carpets: the diversions of hawks, hounds, and horses: in short, all the objects of exquisite indulgence are presented to him. “But among these, one species of refined enjoyment, which requires a taste, above the coarse breeding of abject commonalty, is chiefly insisted on. We had a hint, of what we were to expect, before: “Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, “And hang it round with all my wanton pictures. sc. II. And what lord, in the luxury of his wishes, could feign to himself a more delicious collection, than is here delineated? “2 Man. Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight “Adonis painted by a running brook; “And Citherea all in sedges hid; “Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, “Ev'n as the waving sedges play with wind. “Lord. We will shew thee Io, as she was a maid, “And how she was beguiled and surprized, “As lively painted, as the deed was done. “3 Man. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood, “Scratching her legs, that one shall swear, she bleeds, “So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. These pictures, it will be owned, are, all of them, well chosen* [Subnote: *Sir Epicure Mammon, indeed, would have thought this an insipid collection; for he would have his rooms “Fill'd with such pictures, as Tiberius took “From Elephantis, and dull Aretine “But coldly imitated.” Alchemist, Act II. sc. ii. But then Sir Epicure was one of the Asoti, before mentioned. In general, the satiric intention of the poet in this collection of pictures may be further gathered from a similar stroke in Randolph's Muse's Looking Glass, where, to characterize the voluptuous, he makes him say “&lblank; I would delight my sight “With pictures of Diana and her nymphs “Naked and bathing.”]. But the servants were not so deep in the secret, as their master. They dwell entirely on circumstantials. While his lordship, who had, probably, been trained in the chast school of Titian, is for coming to the point more directly. There is a fine ridicule implied in this. “After these incentives of picture, the charms of beauty itself are presented, as the crowning privilege of his high station: “Thou hast a lady far more beautiful “Than any woman in this waining age. Here indeed the poet plainly forgets himself. The state, if not the enjoyment, of nobility, surely demanded a mistress, instead of a wife. All that can be said in excuse of this indecorum, is, that he perhaps conceived, a simple beggar, all unused to the refinements of high life, would be too much shocked, at setting out, with a proposal, so remote from all his former practices. Be it, as it will, beauty, even in a wife, had such an effect on this mock Lord, that, quite melted and overcome by it, he yields himself at last to the inchanting deception. “I see, I hear, I speak, “I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things; “Upon my life I am a Lord indeed. The satyr is so strongly marked in this last line, that one can no longer doubt of the writer's intention. If any should, let me further remind him, that the poet, in this fiction, but makes his Lord play the same game, in jest, as the Sicilian tyrant acted, long ago, very seriously. The two cases are so similar, that some readers may, perhaps, suspect the poet of having taken the whole conceit from Tully. His description of this instructive scenery is given in the following words: “Visne (inquit Dionysius) ô Damocle, quoniam te haec vita delectat, ipse eandem degustare & fortunam experiri meam? Cum se ille cupere dixisset, conlocari jussit hominem in aureo lecto, strato pulcherrimo, textili stragulo magnificis operibus picto: abaeosque complures ornavit argento auroque caelato: hinc ad mensam eximia forma pueros delectos jussit consistere, eosque nutum illius intuentes diligenter ministrare: aderant unguenta, coronae: incendebantur odores: mensae conquisitissimis epulis extruebantur.” [Tusc. Disp. lib. v. 21.] It follows, that Damocles fell into the sweet delusion of Christophero Sly. Fortunatus sibi Damocles videbatur. “The event in these two dramas, was, indeed, different. For the philosopher took care to make the flatterer sensible of his mistake; while the poet did not think fit to disabuse the beggar. But this was according to the design of each. For, the former would shew the misery of regal luxury; the latter its vanity. The tyrant, therefore, is painted wretched. And his Lordship only a beggar in disguise. “To conclude with our poet. The strong ridicule and decorum of this Induction make it appear, how impossible it was for Shakespeare, in his idlest hours, perhaps, when he was only revising the trash of others, not to leave some strokes of the master behind him. But the morality of its purpose should chiefly recommend it to us. For the whole was written with the best design of exposing that monstrous Epicurean position, that the true enjoyment of life consists in a delirium of sensual pleasure. And this, in a way the most likely to work upon the great, by shewing their pride, that it was fit only to constitute the summum bonum of one “No better than a poor and loathsome beggar. Sc. iii. “Nor let the poet be thought to have dealt too freely with his betters, in giving this representation of nobility. He had the highest authority for what he did. For the great master of life himself gave no other of Divinity. “Ipse pater veri Doctus Epicurus in arte   “Jussit & hanc vitam dixit habere Deos. Petron. c. 132. Steevens.

Note return to page 855 From this play the Tatler formed a story, vol. iv. No. 231. “THERE are very many ill habits that might with much ease have been prevented, which, after we have indulged ourselves in them, become incorrigible. We have a sort of proverbial expression, of taking a woman down in her wedding shoes, if you would bring her to reason. An early behaviour of this sort, had a very remarkable good effect in a family wherein I was several years an intimate acquaintance. “A gentleman in Lincolnshire had four daughters, three of which were early married very happily; but the fourth, though no way inferior to any of her sisters, either in person or accomplishments, had from her infancy discovered so imperious a temper, (usually called a high spirit) that it continually made great uneasiness in the family, became her known character in the neighbourhood, and deterred all her lovers from declaring themselves. However, in process of time, a gentleman of a plentiful fortune and long acquaintance, having observed that quickness of spirit to be her only fault, made his addresses, and obtained her consent in due form. The lawyers finished the writings, (in which, by the way, there was no pin-money) and they were married. After a decent time spent in the father's house, the bridegroom went to prepare his seat for her reception. During the whole course of his courtship, though a man of the most equal temper, he had artificially lamented to her, that he was the most passionate creature breathing. By this one intimation, he at once made her understand warmth of temper to be what he ought to pardon in her, as well as that he alarmed her against that constitution in himself. She at the same time thought herself highly obliged by the composed behaviour which he maintained in her presence. Thus far he with great success soothed her from being guilty of violences, and still resolved to give her such a terrible apprehension of his fiery spirit, that she should never dream of giving way to her own. He returned on the day appointed for carrying her home; but instead of a coach and six horses, together with the gay equipage suitable to the occasion, he appeared without a servant, mounted on a skeleton of a horse, which his huntsman had the day before brought in to feast his dogs on the arrival of his new mistress, with a pillion fixed behind, and a case of pistols before him, attended only by a favourite hound. Thus equipped, he in a very obliging (but somewhat positive) manner, desired his lady to seat herself on the cushion; which done, away they crawled. The road being obstructed by a gate, the dog was commanded to open it: the poor cur looked up and wagged his tail; but the master, to shew the impatience of his temper, drew a pistol and shot him dead. He had no sooner done it, but he fell into a thousand apologies for his unhappy rashness, and begged as many pardons for his excesses before one for whom he had so profound a respect. Soon after their steed stumbled, but with some difficulty recovered; however the bridegroom took occasion to swear, if he frightened his wife so again, he would run him through! And alas! the poor animal being now almost tired, made a second trip; immediately on which the careful husband alights, and with great ceremony, first takes off his lady, then the accoutrements, draws his sword, and saves the huntsman the trouble of killing him: then says to his wife, Child, pr'ythee take up the saddle; which she readily did, and tugged it home, where they found all things in the greatest order, suitable to their fortune and the present occasion. Some time after, the father of the lady gave an entertainment to all his daughters and their husbands, where, when the wives were retired, and the gentlemen passing a toast about, our last married man took occasion to observe to the rest of his brethren, how much, to his great satisfaction, he found the world mistaken as to the temper of his lady, for that she was the most meek and humble woman breathing. The applause was received with a loud laugh; but as a trial which of them would appear the most master at home, he proposed they should all by turns send for their wives down to them. A servant was dispatched, and answer was made by one, Tell him I will come by and by; and another, That she would come when the cards were out of her hand; and so on. But no sooner was her husband's desire whispered in the ear of our last married lady, but the cards were clapped on the table, and down she comes with, My dear, would you speak with me? He received her in his arms, and, after repeated caresses, tells her the experiment, confesses his good-nature, and assures her, that since she could now command her temper, he would no longer disguise his own.” It cannot but seem strange that Shakespeare should be so little known to the author of the Tatler, that he should suffer this story to be obtruded upon him; or so little known to the publick, that he could hope to make it pass upon his readers as a real narrative of a transaction in Lincolnshire; yet it is apparent, that he was deceived, or intended to deceive, that he knew not himself whence the story was taken, or hoped that he might rob so obscure a writer without detection. Of this play the two plots are so well united, that they can hardly be called two without injury to the art with which they are interwoven. The attention is entertained with all the variety of a double plot, yet is not distracted by unconnected incidents. The part between Katharine and Petruchio is eminently spritely and diverting. At the marriage of Bianca the arrival of the real father, perhaps, produces more perplexity than pleasure. The whole play is very popular and diverting. Johnson.

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