Note return to page 1 *See his Letters to me.

Note return to page 2 [a] (a) Much ado about nothing. Act 2. Enter Prince Leonato, Claudio, and Jack Wilson, instead of Balthasar. And in Act 4. Cowley, and Kemp, constantly thro' a whole Scene. Edit. Fol. of 1623, and 1632.

Note return to page 3 [a] (a) The highest date of any I can yet find, is Romeo and Juliet in 1597, when the Author was 33 years old; and Richard the 2d, and 3d, in the next year, viz. the 34th of his age.

Note return to page 4 [a] (a) See the Epilogue to Henry IVth.

Note return to page 5 [a] (a) Lord Falkland, Lord C. J. Vaughan, and Mr. Selden.

Note return to page 6 [1] 1 The Tempest.] These two first Plays, the Tempest and the Midsummer-night's Dream, are the noblest Efforts of that sublime and amazing Imagination, peculiar to Shakespear, which soars above the Bounds of Nature without forsaking Sense: or, more properly, carries Nature along with him beyond her established Limits. Fletcher seems particularly to have admired these two Plays. and hath wrote two in Imitation of them, the Sea-voyage and the Faithful Shepherdess. But when he presumes to break a Lance with Shakespear, and write in emulation of him, as he does in the False one, which is the Rival of Anthony and Cleopatra, he is not so successful. After him, Sir John Suckling and Milton catched the brightest Fire of their Imagination from these two Plays; which shines fantastically indeed, in the Goblins, but much more nobly and serenely in The Mask at Ludlow-Castle.

Note return to page 7 [2] 2 &lblank; long heath,] This is the common name for the erica baccifera; which the Oxford Editor not understanding, conjectured that Shakespear wrote,—Ling, Heath: But, unluckily, Heath and Ling are but two words for the same plant.

Note return to page 8 [3] 3 If by your Art, &c.] Nothing was ever better contrived to inform the Audience of the Story than this Scene. It is a conversation that could not have happened before, and could not but happen now.

Note return to page 9 [4] 4 The very Virtue of compassion in thee,] We must not think that the very Virtue was intended to shew the degree of her compassion, but the kind. Compassion for other's Misfortunes oftenest arises from a sense or apprehension of the like. And then it is Sympathy, not Virtue. Tho' the want of it may be esteemed vicious as arising from a degeneracy of Nature, which cannot happen but by our own fault. Now the Compassion of Miranda, who never ventured to Sea, not being of this kind, Shakespear with great propriety calls it the very Virtue, i. e. the real pure Virtue of Compassion.

Note return to page 10 [5] 5 To trash] signifies to cut away the trash or superfluities; as, to top, signifies, to cut off the top. The Oxford Editor alters it to plash, not considering that to plash signifies to bind and complicate branches together, and so is only used to signify the dressing and pleating of an Hedge.

Note return to page 11 [6] 6 &lblank; like one Who having into truth by telling of it, Made such a Sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.] The corrupted reading of the Second line has rendered this beautiful Similitude quite unintelligible. For what is [having into truth]? or what doth [it] refer to? not to [truth], because if he told truth he could never credit a lie. And yet there is no other correlative to which [it] can belong. I read and point it thus, &lblank; like one Who having, unto truth, by telling OFT, Made such a Sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie. i. e. by often repeating the same Story, made his memory such a Sinner unto truth as to give credit to his own lie. A miserable delusion to which Story-tellers are frequently subject. The Oxford Editor having, by this Correction, been let into the Sense of the Passage, gives us this Sense in his own Words, Who loving an untruth, and telling't oft, Makes &lblank;

Note return to page 12 [7] 7 Good wombs have bore bad sons] Mr. Theobald would give these words to Prospero, because Miranda, bred up in the desart Island from her infancy, could not be suppos'd to be furnished with such an observation from life. An idle reason. Prospero tells us, he had educated her more carefully than usual. Would he then suffer her to be ignorant of the most common cases in human life? Yet the Oxford Editor follows Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 13 [8] 8 When I have deck'd the sea] i. e. honour'd. But this is a poor thought. The Oxford Editor reads brack'd, which is still poorer. I imagine that Shakespear wrote mock'd, i. e. lent the Sea this trifling addition of salt-water: For when any thing is given or added, the effect of which is not felt or perceived, it was in the language of that time properly called mocking.

Note return to page 14 [9] 9 Pro. Now I arise: &lblank;] i. e. now I come to the principal part of my Story, for the sake of which I told the foregoing; namely this, that I have now my Enemies in my Power; and if I omit this Opportunity, I shall never have another to recover my Dukedom. The word is used to usher in a matter of importance. So Richard III. when he comes to the murder of his Nephews, says to Tirrel, &lblank; Rise, and lend an ear.

Note return to page 15 [1] 1 From the still-vext Bermoothes,] Theobald says Bermoothes is printed by mistake for Bermudas. No. That was the name by which the Islands then went, as we may see by the Voyagers of that time; and by our Author's contemporary Poets. Fletcher, in his Woman pleased, says, The Devil should think of purchasing that Eggshell to victual out a Witch for the Bermoothes. Smith, in his account of these Islands p. 172. says, that the Bermudas were so fearful to the world, that many call'd them the Isle of Devils. —p. 174.—to all Seamen no less terrible than an inchanted den of Furies. And no wonder, for the clime was extremely subject to Storms and Hurricanes; and the Islands were surrounded with scattered Rocks lying shallowly hid under the Surface of the Water.

Note return to page 16 [2] 2 Pro. &lblank; What is the time o'th' day? Ari. Past the mid season. Pro. At least two glasses. In this reading, both the Question and the Answer are made impertinently. Prospero asks what time of day it was, when he knew it was two glasses past the mid season: And Ariel replies indefinitely, that it was past the mid season. The Question and Reply should be divided thus, Pro. &lblank; What is the time o'th' day? Ari. Past the mid season, at least, two glasses.

Note return to page 17 [3] 3 Cal. As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholsom fen, Drop on you both.] Shakespear hath very artificially given the air of the antique to the language of Caliban, in order to heighten the grotesque of his character. As here he uses wicked for unwholsome. So Sir John Maundevil, in his travels p. 334. Edit. Lond. 1725.—at alle tymes brennethe a Vesselle of Cristalle fulle of Bawme for to zeven gode smalle and odour to the Emperour, and to voyden awey alle wykkede Eyres, and Corrupciouns. It was a tradition, it seems, that Lord Falkland, Lord C. J. Vaughan, and Mr. Selden concurred in observing, that Shakespear had not only found out a new character in his Caliban, but had also devised and adapted a new manner of language for that character. What they meant by it, without doubt, was, that Shakespear gave his language a certain grotesque air of the Savage and Antique; which it certainly has. But Dr. Bentley took this, of a new language, literally; for speaking of a phrase in Milton, which he supposed altogether absurd and unmeaning, he says, Satan had not the privilege as Caliban in Shakespear, to use new phrase and diction unknown to all others—and again—to practice distances is still a Caliban stile. Note on Milton's paradise lost, l. 4. v. 945. But I know of no such Caliban stile in Shakespear that hath new phrase and diction unknown to all others.

Note return to page 18 [4] 4 Abhorred slave;] In the common Editions this speech was given to Miranda. Mr. Dryden in his alteration of this play rightly transferred it to Prospero.

Note return to page 19 [5] 5 When thou didst not, Savage, know thy own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words to make them known.] The benefit which Prospero here upbraids Caliban with having bestowed, was teaching him language. He shews the greatness of this benefit by marking the inconvenience. Caliban lay under for want of it. What was the inconvenience? This, that he did not know his own meaning. But sure a Brute, to which he is compared, doth know its own meaning, that is, knows what it would be at. This, indeed, it cannot do, it cannot shew its meaning to others. And this certainly is what Prospero would say, &lblank; When thou couldst not, Savage, Shew thy own meaning, &lblank; The following words makes it evident, &lblank; but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish. &lblank; And when once [shew] was corrupted to [know] the transcribers would of course change [couldst] into [didst] to make it agree with the other false reading. There is indeed a Sense in which Know thy own meaning—may be well applied to a brute. For it may signify the not having any reflex knowledge of the operations of its own mind, which, it would seem, a Brute hath not. Tho' this, I say, may be applied to a brute, and consequently to Caliban, and tho' to remedy this brutality be a nobler benefit than even the teaching language; yet such a sense would be impertinent and absurd in this place, where only the benefit of language is talked of by an exact and learned Speaker. Besides, Prospero expresly says, that Caliban had purposes; which, in other words, is that he did know his own meaning.

Note return to page 20 [6] 6 Full fathom five thy father lies, &c.] Gildon, who has pretended to criticise our Author, would give this up as an insufferable and senseless piece of trifling. And I believe this is the general opinion concerning it. But a very unjust one. Let us consider the business Ariel is here upon, and his manner of executing it. The Commission Prospero had intrusted to him, in a whisper, was plainly this; to conduct Ferdinand to the sight of Miranda, and to dispose him to the quick sentiments of love, while he, on the other hand, prepared his daughter for the same impressions. Ariel sets about his business by acquainting Ferdinand, in an extraordinary manner, with the afflictive news of his father's death. A very odd Apparatus, one would think, for a love-fit. And yet as odd as it appears, the Poet has shewn in it the finest conduct for carrying on his plot. Prospero had said, I find my Zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious starr; whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my Fortunes Will ever after droop. &lblank; In consequence of this his prescience, he takes advantage of every favourable circumstance that the occasion offers. The principal affair is the Marriage of his daughter with young Ferdinand. But to secure this point it was necessary they should be contracted before the affair came to Alonzo the Father's knowledge. For Prospero was ignorant how this storm and shipwreck, caused by him, would work upon Alonzo's temper. It might either soften him, or increase his aversion for Prospero as the author. On the other hand, to engage Ferdinand, without the consent of his Father, was difficult. For not to speak of his Quality, where such engagements are not made without the consent of the Sovereign, Ferdinand is represented (to shew it a Match worth the seeking) of a most pious temper and disposition, which would prevent his contracting himself without his Father's knowledge. The Poet therefore, with the utmost address, has made Ariel persuade him of his Father's death to remove this Remora, which might otherwise have either stop'd, and retarded beyond the time of action, or quite spoiled the whole Plot.

Note return to page 21 [7] 7 The fringed curtains of thine eyes advance, And say, what thou seest yond.] The Daughters of Prospero, as they are drawn by Dryden, seem rather to have had their Education in a Court or a Playhouse, than under the severe precepts of a Philosopher in a Desert. But the Miranda of Shakespear is truly what the Poet gives her out. And his art in preserving the unity of her character is wonderful. We must remember what was said in the foregoing note of Prospero's intention to make his Daughter fall in love at sight. And notwithstanding what the wits may say, or the Pretty-fellows think, on this occasion, it was no such easy matter to bring this naturally about. Those who are the least acquainted with human nature know of what force institution and education are to curb and even deface the very strongest passions and affections. She had been brought up under the rough discipline of stoical Morality, and misfortunes generally harden the morality of virtuous men into Stoicism. Such a one was Prospero. And he tells us, that his daughter fully answered the care he bestowed upon her. So that there would be some difficulty for nature to regain its influence so suddenly as the Plot required. The Poet, therefore, with infinite address, causes her to be softened by the tender story her father told her of his misfortunes. For pity preceeds love, and facilitates its entrance into the mind. But this was, evidently, insufficient. Therefore, to make the way the easier, she is supposed to be under the influence of her Father's charm, which was to dissolve, as it were, the rigid chains of virtue and obedience. This is insinuated to the Audience when Prospero, before he begins his story, says to her, &lblank; Lend thy hand And pluck this magick garment from me. The touch communicated the charm, and its efficacy was to lay her to sleep. This is the reason that Prospero so often questions her, as he proceeds in his story, whether she was attentive: being apprehensive the charm might operate too quick, even before he had ended his relation. Without this interpretation his frequent repetition will appear extremely cold, and absurd. For the same reason, likewise, he says, in conclusion, Thou art inclin'd to sleep. 'Tis a good dulness, And give it way: I know thou can'st not chuse.

Note return to page 22 [8] 8 &lblank; vouchsafe my pray'r May know, &lblank;] For, I may know. Extremely poetical; and most expressive of the humility of the Speaker.

Note return to page 23 [9] 9 &lblank; certainly a maid.] Nothing could be more prettily imagined to illustrate the singularity of her character, than this pleasant mistake. She had been bred up in the rough and plain-dealing documents of moral philosophy, which teaches us the knowledge of our selves: And was an utter stranger to the flattery invented by vicious and designing Men to corrupt the other Sex. So that it could not enter into her imagination, that complaisance and a desire of appearing amiable, qualities of humanity which she had been instructed, in her moral lessons, to cultivate, could ever degenerate into such excess, as that any one should be willing to have his fellow-creature believe that he thought her a Goddess or an Immortal.

Note return to page 24 [1] 1 &lblank; controul thee,] i. e. shew thee thy error.

Note return to page 25 [2] 2 Mira. O dear father, Make not too rash a tryal of him; for He's gentle, and not fearful.] This seems to be a very odd way of expressing her sense of her Lover's good qualities. It is certain the beauty of it is not seen at first view. Miranda, 'till now, had never seen any Mortal (her father excepted) but Caliban. She had frequently beheld him under that kind of discipline which her father here threatens to inflict upon her lover. I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be The fresh-brook mussles, wither'd roots and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. The perversity of Caliban's nature, and the Cowardliness of it, made punishment necessary, and easy to be inflicted: Finding therefore Ferdinand threatened with the like treatment, out of tenderness both to her Father and Lover she cries—He's gentle, not like the savage Caliban, and so deserves not punishment; this she gathered from his preceeding conversation with her—and not fearful, like that coward, and so is not to be easily managed. This she collected from his drawing his sword, and standing on his defence.

Note return to page 26 [3] 3 My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.] Alluding to a common sensation in dreams, when we struggle, but with a total impuissance in our endeavour, to run, strike, &c.

Note return to page 27 [4] 4 &lblank; our hint of woe] hint of woe, can signify only prognostic of woe: which is not the sense required. We should read stint, i. e. proportion, allotment.

Note return to page 28 [5] 5 All this that follows after the words Pr'ythee, peace.—to the words, You cram these words, &c. seems to have been interpolated, (perhaps by the Players) the verses there beginning again; and all that is between in prose, not only being very impertinent stuff, but most improper and ill-plac'd drollery, in the mouths of unhappy shipwreckt people. There is more of the same sort interspersed in the remaining part of the Scene. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 29 [6] 6 The visitor will not give o'er so.] This Visitor is a Comforter or Adviser. We must read then, 'viser, i. e. the Adviser.

Note return to page 30 [7] 7 As many voucht rarities are.] A Satire on the extravagant accounts that Voyagers then told of the new discovered World.

Note return to page 31 [8] 8 The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.] All this Dialogue is a fine Satire on the Utopean Treatises of Government, and the impracticable inconsistent Schemes therein recommended.

Note return to page 32 [8] 8 The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.] All this Dialogue is a fine Satire on the Utopean Treatises of Government, and the impracticable inconsistent Schemes therein recommended.

Note return to page 33 [9] 9 &lblank; all foyzon, all abundance.] foyzon signifies the great plenty of any thing.

Note return to page 34 [1] 1 &lblank; which to do, Trebles thee o'er.] i. e. follow my advice, and it will advance thy fortune to the height. So Fletcher in his noble Gentleman, I now see your Father's honours Trebling upon you &lblank; And again in his Maid of the Mill, How did you bear her loss? With thy grief trebled. Yet the Oxford Editor alters it to, Troubles thee not.

Note return to page 35 [2] 2 Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there. &lblank;] The meaning is, that ambition would be so affected with the pleasing prospect, that it would doubt whether the discovery, it there made of future greatness, was a real representation, or only, what Shakespear, in another place, calls a Dream of Advantage. The Oxford Editor changes doubt to drop, and so makes nonsense of the whole Sentence; to pierce a wink signifies to see or discern: and to drop discovery signifies not to see. So that the Sentiment is, If you see further into this matter you will not see at all.

Note return to page 36 [3] 3 No advices by letter. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 37 [4] 4 Candy'd be they, and melt, e'er they molest!] i. e. did ten consciences play all their tricks with me; sometimes proving very stubborn, and sometimes again as supple; now frozen up with cold, now dissolved with heat, yet they should ne'er molest, &c. Shakespear explains this thought, where in his winter tale he expresses it thus differently, &lblank; whose honesty till now Endur'd all weathers.

Note return to page 38 [5] 5 This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, &c.] But why morsel? How does this characterise the person spoken of? We must read, This ancient moral. i. e. this man of old fashioned honesty, for such is his Character. —An ancient moral is almost proverbial, in the mouths of licentious people, to signify, morals too severe, and not fit for the times. This way of speaking is familiar with our Author. Rom. & Jul. And why my Lady Wisdom? hold your tongue, good Prudence.

Note return to page 39 [6] 6 &lblank; to keep them living.] i. e. Alonzo and Antonio; for it was on their lives that his project depended. Yet the Oxford Editor alters them, to you, because in the verse before, it is said—you his friend; as if, because Ariel was sent forth to save his friend, he could not have another purpose in sending him, viz. to save his project too.

Note return to page 40 [7] 7 Looks like a foul Bambard] A large Vessel for holding Drink, as well as the Piece of Ordnance so call'd. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 41 [8] 8 Any strange beast there makes a man;] I cannot but think this Satire very just upon our Countrymen: who have been always very ready to make Denisons of the whole Tribe of the Pitheci, and compliment them with the Donum Civitatis, as appears by the names in use. Thus Monkey, which, the Etymologists tell us, comes from Monkin, Monikin, homunculus. Baboon, from Babe, the termination denoting addition and increment, a large Babe. Mantygre speaks its original. And when they have brought their Sirnames with them from their native Country, as Ape, the common people have as it were Christen'd them by the addition of Jack-an-Ape.

Note return to page 42 [9] 9 Have we devils here?—Salvages and men of Inde?— your four legs;] All this is a pleasant ridicule of Maundevile's relations in his Voyages. Who pretended to have traveled thro' an enchaunted Vale clepen the vale of Develes, which Vale, says he, is alle fulle of Develes, and hathe ben alle weys. And Men seyn there, that it is on of the entrees of Helle. The same Author likewise in his account of the Salvages and Men of Inde has transcribed, as of his own knowledge, all the fables of Pliny concerning men with long Ears, one Eye, one Foot, without Heads, &c.

Note return to page 43 [1] 1 Moon-calf?] It was imagined that the Moon had an ill influence on the infant's understanding. Hence Idiots were called Moon-calves.

Note return to page 44 [2] 2 I afraid of him? a very shallow monster, &c.] It is to be observed that Trinculo the speaker is not charged with being afraid: but it was his Consciousness that he was so that drew this bragg from him. This is Nature.

Note return to page 45 [3] 3 Young Scamels from the rock.] We should read Shamois, i. e. young Kids.

Note return to page 46 [4] 4 Pro. Praise in departing.] This is a sarcasm. They were praising the music and attendance of this visionary Entertainment: but their commendations were too hasty, for the Banquet was presently snatched from them: so that the music was only a prelude to a Mockery. Prospero therefore says, Stay your praises 'till you have ended your entertainment. Praise in departing. The phrase alludes to the custom of Guests praising their entertainment when they rise from the Banquet.

Note return to page 47 [5] 5 Each putter out on five for one &lblank;] A Satire on the Voyagers of that time, who had just discovered a new World; and, as was natural, gave very extravagant accounts of the wonders of it. Their Ventures in these expeditions are alluded to in the title, given them, of putters out on five for one.

Note return to page 48 [a] [(a) &lblank; thread &lblank; Mr. Theobald,—vulg. third.]

Note return to page 49 [3] 3 &lblank; virgin-knot, &lblank;] Alluding to the Latin phrase of Zonam solvere.

Note return to page 50 [4] 4 &lblank; bring the rabble,] i. e. of spirits.

Note return to page 51 [5] 5 &lblank; bring a corollary,] Corollarium signifies what we call supernumerary, or, what is more than just sufficient. The word has here a singular propriety and elegance. For corollaria were, amongst the Romans, the little gifts given to the people when Plays were exhibited to them at their public festivals; and corollæ crowns given to those Actors who pleased more than ordinary.

Note return to page 52 [a] [(a) &lblank; brown groves, Oxford Edit.—vulg. broom groves.]

Note return to page 53 [6] 6 &lblank; Thy pole-clipt vineyard, And thy sea-marge steril, and rocky-hard.] Gildon who has made what he calls a Glossary on Shakespear, says—Pole-clipt-clipt in the head. What he had in his head is not worth inquiring. Clipt here signifies embraced: but pole-clipt is a corrupt reading. It sounded well, because vines are supported by Poles, to say pole-clipt vineyard. And sound was what the Player-Editors only attended to. But a little sense might have taught them that vines could not be called pole-clipt, tho' Poles might be called vine-clipt. Shakespear wrote &lblank; Thy pale-clipt Vineyard. i. e. the vineyard inclosed or fenced with Pales, in opposition to the wide and open sea-marge or coast. &lblank; Rocky hard should be read with an hyphen. It is one of the epithets to sea-marge. &lblank; as hard as a rock.

Note return to page 54 [7] 7 This is a most majestick vision, and Harmonious charmingly.] What was intended to be here commended was, 1. The vision of the Goddesses. 2. Their Songs. The vision is commended in these Words, This is a most majestic vision. But for the songs,—we are put off with this nonsense—and harmonious Charmingly. To restore Sense, and the other part of the commendation, we must needs read &lblank; and Harmonious charming lays, And then both the visions and the songs will have their due praises. The word charming cannot with propriety be applied to any thing but music and poetry, because these were supposed to operate, as charms. In our Author's time the word was generally so applied, tho' it be now used ridiculously on every object of pleasure.

Note return to page 55 [8] 8 &lblank; These our Actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into Air, into thin Air; And like the baseless Fabric of their Vision, The cloud-capt Towers, the gorgeous Palaces, The solemn Temples, the great Globe it self, Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve; And like this unsubstantial Pageant faded, Leave not a Rack behind &lblank;] In this reading, all sublunary things, on account of their fleeting existence, are compared to the mask of spirits, which, at the beck of Prosper, vanished suddenly away. But then there is a wretched tautology in the lines, And like the baseless Fabric &c. And like this unsubstantial Pageant &c. Not to mention the aukward expression of [their Vision], which Mr. Theobald, upon what Authority I know not, hath changed into [this Vision]. I suppose to make the expression a little more natural. I would read, And like the baseless Fabric of th' Air Visions. He had just before said, that the Spirits were melted—into Air, into thin Air. This furnishes him with the fine similitude of Air Visions, which generally appearing, as Shakespear in another place says, like A tower'd Citidel, a pendant Rock, A forked Mountain, or blue Promontory, he very properly calls baseless Fabrics, which doth not so well agree with spirits in a human form. By this emendation the tautology, taken notice of above, is avoided: and the Poet, with great perspicuity, and physical exactness, compares the Globe, and all inanimate things upon it, to Air Visions; and men and animals in the words—yea all which it inherit—to the vision of Spirits, which the Speaker had just before presented to them. Further, that the Comparison was indeed to Air Visions is still evident from the words, &lblank; leave not a Rack behind, which can refer only to Air Visions. For Rack is the vestige of an embodied cloud, which hath been broken and dissipated by the Winds. But lastly, to put the emendation out of all reasonable question, we have this very Similitude of Air Visions again in Antony and Cleopatra, with this difference only, that it is there applied to the transient glory of one man, and here, to that of human things in general. Anthony and Cleopatra. Sometimes we see a Cloud that's dragonish, A vapour, sometimes like a bear or lion, A towered Citidel, a pendant Rock, A forked Mountain or blue Promentory; &lblank; thou'st seen these signs, They are black Vesper's Pageants &lblank; That which is now a Horse even with a thought, The Rack dislimns and makes it indistinct, As water is in water—now thy Captain is Even such a body; here I'm Anthony, Yet cannot hold this visible Shape, &c. &lblank; I will only add, that the thought—They are black Vesper's Pageants, is wonderfully beautiful. As it characterizes these Air Visions, which appear only in the Evening, when the setting Sun reflects its light upon the opposite Clouds; and as it gives a vast force to the Similitude, which insinuates that human glory is as certainly succeeded by Misery, as these gaudy Appearances by a dark cloudy Night. It is observable, that the time at which Prospero uses this Similitude of Air Visions, is the Evening.

Note return to page 56 [9] 9 Leave not a Rack behind! &lblank;] The Oxford Editor not knowing what Mariners call the Rack of a Cloud, namely the Vestige of it, after it has been broken and driven by the wind, alters it to Track.

Note return to page 57 [1] 1 &lblank; Sir, I am vext, Bear with my weakness, my old brain is troubled:] Prospero here discovers a great emotion of anger on his sudden recollection of Caliban's plot. This appears from the admirable reflexion he makes on the insignificancy of human things. For thinking men are never under greater depression of mind than when they moralize in this manner: and yet, if we turn to the occasion of his disorder, it does not appear, as first view, to be a thing capable of moving one in Prospero's circumstances. The Plot of a contemptible Savage and two drunken Sailors, all of whom he had absolutely in his power. There was then no apprehension of danger. But if we look more nearly into the case, we shall have reason to admire our Author's wonderful knowledge of nature. There was something in it with which great minds are most deeply affected, and that is the Sense of Ingratitude. He recalled to mind the Obligations this Caliban lay under for the instructions he had given him, and the conveniences of life he had taught him to use. But these reflexions on Caliban's Ingratitude would naturally recal to mind his brother's: And then these two working together were very capable of producing all the disorder of passion here represented.—That these two, who had received, at his hands, the two best Gifts mortals are capable of, when rightly employed, Regal power and the Use of reason; that these, in return, should conspire against the life of the Donor, would surely afflict a generous mind to its utmost bearing.

Note return to page 58 [2] 2 The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither For stale to catch these Thieves &lblank;] If it be asked what necessity there was for this apparatus, I answer that it was the superstitious fancy of the people, in our Author's time, that Witches, Conjurors, &c. had no power over those against whom they would employ their Charms, till they had got them at this advantage, committing some sin or other, as here of theft.

Note return to page 59 [3] 3 Trin. O King Stephano! O Peer! O worthy Stephano! Look, what a wardrobe here is for thee!] The Humour of these lines consists in their being an allusion to an old celebrated Ballad, which begins thus, King Stephen was a worthy Peer— and celebrates that King's parsimony with regard to his wardrobe. —There are two Stanzas of this ballad in Othello.

Note return to page 60 [4] 4 &lblank; Time Goes upright with his Carriage &lblank;] The thought is pretty. —Time is usually represented as an old man almost worn out, and bending under his load. He is here painted as in great vigour, and walking upright, to denote that things went prosperously on.

Note return to page 61 [5] 5 &lblank; I have be-dimm'd The noon-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green Sea and the azur'd vault, Set roaring war; to the dread ratling thunder Have I giv'n fire, and rifted Jove's stout Oak With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd Promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt up The Pine and Cedar: Graves at my command Have waked their sleepers; op'd, and let them forth By my so potent Art.] Here is evidently an absurd transposition of the words in the last line but one. But Mr. Theobald's defence of the present reading is still more absurd. He justifies the expression of Graves waking their Sleepers, by Beaumont and Fletcher's saying—Fame wakens the ruin'd Monuments— which is an expression purely metaphorical, to signify that those monuments are brought again into remembrance; and is therefore justifiable. But—Graves waking their Sleepers must needs be understood literally. For Prospero would insinuate that dead men were actually raised to life by his Art. Therefore the expression is absurd, and consequently none of Shakespear's, who certainly wrote &lblank; Graves, at my command, Have open'd, and let forth their Sleepers, wak'd By my so potent Art. As a further proof that Shakespear wrote it thus, we may observe, that he borrowed this speech from Medea's in Ovid: Stantia concutio cantu freta, nubila pello; Nubilaque induco: ventos abigoque vocoque: Vipereasque rumpo verbis & carmine fauces: Vivaque saxa sua convulsaque robora terra, Et silvas moveo: jubeoque tremescere Montes, Et mugire solum manesque exire sepulcris. Now manesque exire sepulcris is justly expressed as we have reformed the lines, &lblank; Graves, at my command, Have open'd, and let forth their sleepers, wak'd By my so potent art &lblank; The third line of his original containing an atchievement little in use amongst modern Inchanters he has with judgment omitted it in his imitation.

Note return to page 62 [6] 6 &lblank; But this rough magick I here abjure. And when I have required Some heavenly musick, which ev'n now I do, (To work mine end upon their Senses, that This airy charm is for;) I'll break my staff, &c. &lblank;] If the present reading be genuine, then, by [airy charm] is meant the heavenly musick two lines before. But this admitted, the consequence will be, 1. A wretched tautology; He had said—Some heavenly musick to work mine end; and then immediately adds this airy charm of music is for working mine end. 2. As unpardonable a defect; for, according to this sense and reading, we are not informed what this end was, by not being told the State of their Senses. We must needs then by [airy charm] understand the fire and cracks of sulphurous roaring, as it is called in the 3d Scene of Act I. and thunder and lightning in the 4th Scene of Act III. which had in the highest degree terrified the persons concerned. That this was the airy charm is farther evident from these words, in the following Scene, The charm dissolves apace, and as, &c. It was dissolved, we see, by the heavenly musick, and therefore different from it. But if this be the sense of airy charm, then we see the reading [is for] must be corrupt; and that Shakespear wrote, &lblank; heavenly musick &lblank; To work mine end upon their senses, that This airy charm has frail'd. i. e. which senses the airy charm of Ariel above-mentioned has disturbed and shatter'd. For that this was their condition appears from the lines which follow in the next scene. &lblank; The charm dissolves apace; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness; so their rising senses Begin to chase the ign'rant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason &lblank;

Note return to page 63 [7] 7 &lblank; I'll break my staff; Bury it certain fadoms in the earth.] Certain in its present signification is predicated of a precise determinate number. But this sense would make the thought flat and ridiculous. We must consider the word certain therefore as used in its old signification of a many, indefinitely. So Bale in his Acts of English Votaries says,—But he took with him a certen of his idle companions. For a many. So that Shakespear, I suppose, wrote the line thus, Bury't a certain Fadom in the Earth.

Note return to page 64 *ign'rant fumes,] Ignorant, for hurtful to reason.

Note return to page 65 [8] 8 Where the bee sucks, there suck I;] Mr. Theobald tells us, he has here ventured to vary from the printed Copies, and read lurk 1: Because a Spirit cannot be intended, as he expresses it, to want food. How Shakespear, or any other good Metaphysician would have intended to support these Spirits, had they been of their own making, I do not know: But the people who gave them birth brought them up to good eating and drinking.

Note return to page 66 [9] 9 After Summer, merrily.] This is the reading of all the Editions. Yet Mr. Theobald has substituted Sun-set, because Ariel talks of riding on the Bat in this expedition. An idle fancy. That circumstance is given only to design the time of night in which fairies travel. One would think the consideration of the circumstances should have set him right. Ariel was a spirit of great delicacy, bound by the charms of Prospero, to a constant attendance on his occasions. So that he was confined to the Island Winter and Summer. But the roughness of Winter is represented by Shakespear as disagreeable to fairies, and such-like delicate spirits, who on this account constantly follow Summer. Was not this then the most agreeable circumstance of Ariel's new recover'd liberty, that he could now avoid Winter, and follow Summer quite round the Globe. But to put the matter out of question, let us consider the meaning of this line. There I couch, when Owls do cry. Where? in the Cowslip's bell, and where the Bee sucks, he tells us: this must needs be in Summer. When? when Owls cry, and this is in Winter. When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl. The Song of Winter in Love's Labour Lost. The consequence is, that Ariel flies After-Summer. Yet the Oxford Editor has adopted this judicious emendation of Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 67 [1] 1 Yes, for a Score of Kingdoms] i. e. If the subject or bet were Kingdoms: Score here not signifying the number twenty, but account.

Note return to page 68 [2] 2 Where we in all our Trim. freshly beheld Our royal, good and gallant Ship; &lblank;] The Trim is to be understood of the Ship, and not of the Crew, so that we should read her trim. Dr. Thirlby.

Note return to page 69 [3] 3 &lblank; single I'll resolve you.] Because the conspiracy, against him, of his Brother Sebastian and his own Brother Anthonio, would make part of the relation.

Note return to page 70 [4] 4 And Trinculo is reeling ripe; where should they Find this grand liquor, that hath gilded 'em.] Shakespear, to be sure, wrote—grand 'lixir, alluding to the grand Elixir of the alchymists, which they pretend would restore youth, and confer immortality. This, as they said, being a preparation of Gold, they called Aurum potabile; which Shakespear alluded to in the word gilded; as he does again in Anthony and Cleopatra. How much art thou unlike Mark Anthony? Yet coming from him, that great med'cine hath, With his Tinct, gilded thee. But the joke here is to insinuate that, notwithstanding all the boasts of the Chymists, Sack was the only restorer of youth, and bestower of immortality. So Ben Johnson in his Every man out of his humour—Canarie the very Elixar and spirit of wine— This seems to have been the Cant name for Sack, of which the English were, at that time, immoderately fond. Randolf in his Jealous Lovers, speaking of it, says,—A Pottle of Elixar at the Pegasus bravely caroused. So again in Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, Act III. &lblank; Old reverend Sack, which, for ought that I can read yet, Was that Philosopher's stone the wife King Ptolomeus Did all his wonders by. &lblank; The phrase too of being gilded was a trite one on this occasion. Fletcher in his Chances—Duke. Is she not drunk too? Whore. A little gilded o'er, Sir; Old Sack, Old Sack, Boys!

Note return to page 71 [5] 5 O, touch me not: I am not Stephano, but a cramp.] In reading this play, I all along suspected that Shakespear had taken it from some Italian writer; the Unities being all so regularly observed, which no dramatic writers but the Italian observed so early as our Author's time; and which Shakespear has observed no where but in this Play. Besides, the Persons of the Drama are all Italians. I was much confirmed in my Suspicion when I came to this place. It is plain a joke was intended; but where it lies is hard to say. I suspect there was a quibble in the Original that would not bear to be translated, which ran thus, I am not Stephano but Staffilato. Staffilato signifying, in Italian, a man well lashed or flayed, which was the real case of these varlets. &lblank; Tooth'd briars, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns Which enter'd their frail Skins. &lblank; And the touching a raw part being very painful, he might well cry out Touch me not, &c. In Riccoboni's Catalogue of Italian plays are these, Il Negromante di L. Ariosto, prosa e verso, & Il Negromante Palliato di Gio-Angelo Petrucci, prosa. But whether the Tempest be borrowed from either of these, not having seen them, I cannot say.

Note return to page 72 [6] 6 &lblank; And my ending is despair, Unless I be reliev'd by prayer;] This alludes to the old Stories told of the despair of Necromancers in their last moments; and of the efficacy of the prayers of their friends for them.

Note return to page 73 [1] 1 Long withering out a young Man's revenue] Long withering out is, certainly, not good English. I rather think Shakespear wrote, Long wintering on a young man's revenue.

Note return to page 74 [2] 2 &lblank; stoll'n th' impression of her fantasie,] The expression is elegant and pretty. It alludes to the taking the impression of a Key in Wax, in order to have another made to unlock a Cabinet.

Note return to page 75 [3] 3 Or to her death, according to our law,] By a Law of Solon's, Parents had the 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.

Note return to page 76 [4] 4 To 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 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 Maundevile 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. Rablais, 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.

Note return to page 77 [5] 5 I know not, by what power I am made bold;] It was the Opinion of the Ancients, that when a person did or said any thing that exceeded his common faculties of performance, that he did it by the Assistance of some God. So here she insinuates, that it was Love that enabled her to plead his cause.

Note return to page 78 [6] 6 Come, my Hippolita; what cheer, my love?] Hippolita had not said one single word all this while. Had a modern poet had the teaching of her, we should have found her the busiest amongst them; and, without doubt, the Lovers might have expected a more equitable decision. But Shakespear knew better what he was about; and observed decorum.

Note return to page 79 [7] 7 Beteem, or pour down upon them. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 80 [a] [(a) &lblank; to low, Mr. Theobald,—Vulg. to love.]

Note return to page 81 [8] 8 Brief as the light'ning in the collied 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.] Tho' the word Spleen be here employed odly enough, yet I believe it right. Shakespear 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 spleenatic—sudden quips. And it must be owned this sort of conversion adds a force to the diction.

Note return to page 82 [9] 9 Collied or black. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 83 [1] 1 Lys. &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 nauciously coming; or she had before jilted him; and he could not believe her without a thousand Oaths. But Shakespear 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 woman 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.

Note return to page 84 [a] [(a) Your's would catch [Subnote: for would catch read would I catch.] , Oxf. Ed.—Vulg. your words I'd catch.]

Note return to page 85 for this read his.

Note return to page 86 [2] 2 Grow on to a point,] read Go on &c.

Note return to page 87 [3] 3 I could play Ercles part 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 ancient 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 2d, says—grennyng like Termagauntes in a play.

Note return to page 88 [4] 4 At the Duke's Oak we meet &lblank; hold, or cut bowstrings.] 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 bowstring 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.

Note return to page 89 [1] 1 i. e. quarrel or jar. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 90 [a] [(a) &lblank; rails or cries, Oxf. Ed.—Vulg. Taylor cries.]

Note return to page 91 *Didst 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.

Note return to page 92 [2] 2 Perigenia, Vid. Plut. vit. Thesei. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 93 [3] 3 And never since that middle summer's spring, &c.] There are not many passages in Shakespear of 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 semina 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.

Note return to page 94 [4] 4 The middle summer's spring.] We should read that. For it appears to have been some years since the quarrel first began.

Note return to page 95 [5] 5 The nine mens morris,] A kind of rural chess.

Note return to page 96 [6] 6 The 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 Editor's. Shakespear without question wrote, The human mortals want their winter heryed, i. e. praised, celebrated. The word is obsolete: But used both by Chaucer and Spencer in this signification, Tho' wouldest thou learne to caroll of love, And hery with hymnes thy Lasse'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 unto the text, but that Shakespear 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.

Note return to page 97 [7] 7 The Spring, the Summer, The childing Autumn, angry winter change Their wonted Liveries; and th' amazed World By their increase now knows not which is which; &lblank;] whose increase? or what increase?—Let us attend to the Sentiment —Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter change their Liveries, i. e. Spring and Summer are unseasonably cold; and Autumn and Winter unnaturally warm. This temperature he calls the Liveries or the covering of the Seasons. Which, he says, confounds the amazed world, that, now, knows not which is which. This being owing then to the Seasons changing their garb, the last line was doubtless wrote thus, By their inchase now knows not which is which. i. e. by the temperature in which they are set. The metaphor before was taken from Clothing, here from Jewels. Inchase coming from the French, Enchasseure, a term in use amongst Goldsmiths for the setting a stone in Gold.

Note return to page 98 [8] 8 The chiding Autumn.] The Quarto of 1600, and the Folio of 1623, read childing, and this is right. It is an old word which signified teeming, bearing fruit. So Chaucer, in his Ballade of our Ladie, says, Chosin of Joseph, whom he toke to wive, Unknowyng hym, childing by miracle &lblank; This is the proper epithet of Autumn, and not chiding.

Note return to page 99 [9] 9 Or usher. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 100 [1] 1 Which 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 gossipt by my side—and—when we have laugh'd to see.

Note return to page 101 [2] 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. Queen Elizabeth could not bear to hear her commended; and her successor would not forgive her satirist. 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 antient 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 L'ouvre, 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 imag'ry. The vulgar opinion being that the mermaid allured men to destruction by her songs. To which opinion Shakespear 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 Shakespear 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.

Note return to page 102 [3] 3 Cupid all arm'd: &lblank;] Surely this presents us with a very unclassical Image. In ancient books and monuments we never see Cupid armed with more than his bow and arrows; and with these we find him furnished in all humours. These too are the only arms he had occasion for in the present action; a more illustrious one than any his friends, the classic poets, ever employed him in. I would read therefore Cupid alarm'd. The change, I make, is so small, and the beauty it gives the thought, so great, that, I think, we are not to hesitate upon it. For how great an addition is it to the compliment on this virgin Queen's celibacy, that it alarmed the power of love. As if his empire was in danger, when the Imperial Votress had declared herself for a single life: So great an influence would her example have amongst her sex. Queen Elizabeth could not but be pleased with the delicacy of this compliment.

Note return to page 103 [4] 4 A compliment to Queen Elizabeth. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 104 [5] 5 And maidens call it Love in idleness.] This is as fine a metamorphosis as any in Ovid: With a much better mortal, intimating that irregular love has only power when people are idle, or not well employed.

Note return to page 105 [a] [(a) Slay, slayeth. Dr. Thirlby.—Vulg. stay, stayeth.]

Note return to page 106 [6] 6 Wood, or mad, wild, raving. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 107 [7] 7 Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;] We should read third part of the midnight. The common reading is nonsense. Possibly Shakespear might have used the French word Minuit.

Note return to page 108 [8] 8 &lblank; our queint spirits. &lblank;] We should read sports.

Note return to page 109 [9] 9 O 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.

Note return to page 110 [1] 1 Joke or scoff. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 111 [a] [(a) &lblank; parentage. Oxford Edit.—Vulg. patience well.]

Note return to page 112 [2] 2 Her brother's noon tide with th' Antipodes.] She says, she would as soon believe, that the moon, then shining, could creep through the centre, and meet the sun's light on the other side the Globe. It is plain therefore we should read &lblank; i'th' Antipodes, i. e. in the Antipodes where the sun was then shining.

Note return to page 113 [a] [(a) This pureness, Oxford Edit.—Vulg. This Princess.]

Note return to page 114 [3] 3 Can you not hate me, as I know you do. But you must join in souls to mock me too?] This is spoken to Demetrius. The last line is nonsense. They should be read thus, Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But must join insolents to mock me too? meaning Lysander, who, as she thought, mocked her when he declared his passion for her.

Note return to page 115 [a] [(a) &lblank; like. M. Folks, Esquire.—Vulg. life]

Note return to page 116 [4] 4 Ev'n till the eastern gate, all fiery red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.] The Epithets fair blessed are an insipid unmeaning expletive. Shakespear, without doubt, wrote, far-blessing beams; i. e. whose genial rays have the most extensive influence. A corruption of the same kind we meet with in Timon, Thou blessed-breeding sun. which should be read, Thou blessing-breeding sun, i. e. who giveth blessings wherever it shines.

Note return to page 117 [1] 1 Neafe (Yorkshire) for fist. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 118 [2] 2 So 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 woodbinde 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.

Note return to page 119 [a] [(a) &lblank; o'er, Dr. Thirlby,—Vulg. or.]

Note return to page 120 [a] [(a) &lblank; five, Dr. Thirlby,—Vulg. fine.]

Note return to page 121 [3] 3 Dance 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.

Note return to page 122 [4] 4 Then, 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 4. My father and the gentleman are in sad talk. For grave or serious.

Note return to page 123 [5] 5 The skies, the fountains, &lblank;] I believe the true reading is mountains.

Note return to page 124 [6] 6 Gaude or bawble. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 125 [7] 7 And 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 some thing 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 my 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 Demetrius's like the two Socia's in the Farce.—From Gemellus comes the French, Gemeau or Jumeau, and in the feminine, Gemelle or Jumelle: So in Maçon's translation of the Decameron of Bocace—Il avoit trois filles plus aage'es que les masles, des quelles les deux qui estoient jumelles avoient quinze ans. Quatrieme Jour. Nov. 3.

Note return to page 126 [a] [(a) &lblank; after Death, Mr. Theobald,—Vulg. at her Death.]

Note return to page 127 [1] 1 That if he would but apprehend &lblank;] The Quarto of 1600 reads, That if it—i. e. the imagination; and this is right.

Note return to page 128 [2] 2 The thrice three Muses, &c.] This seems to be intended as a compliment to Spencer, who wrote a poem called The tears of the Muses. He seems to have paid his friend another, in the second Act, where he makes the queen of fairies say to the king, &lblank; But I know When thou hast stoll'n away from fairy land, And, in the shape of Corin, sate all day Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love To am'rous Phillida, —intimating that the pastorals of that poet were so sweet, that it was a superior being under the disguise of a mortal who composed them.

Note return to page 129 [3] 3 Merry 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 shew!

Note return to page 130 [4] 4 Thes. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.] Shakespear 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;—rear'd without warning.

Note return to page 131 [a] [(a) &lblank; moans—Mr. Theobald.—Vulg. means.]

Note return to page 132 [5] 5 Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf beholds the moon: Whilst the heavy plowman snoars, All with weary task fore-done.] It being the design of these words to characterize the several animals, as they present themselves at the hour of midnight; and the wolf not being justly characterized by saying he beholds the moon, which all other beasts of prey then awake do likewise, I make no question but the poet wrote And the wolf behowls the moon. which is his characteristic property. And further to support this emendation we may observe, that the sounds these animals emit, at this season, are plainly intended to be represented.

Note return to page 133 [1] 1 It is observable (I know not for what cause) that the stile of this comedy is less figurative, and more natural and unaffected than the greater part of this Author's, tho' supposed to be one of the first he wrote. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 134 [2] 2 &lblank; shapeless idleness.] The expression is fine, as implying that idleness prevents the giving any form or character to the manners.

Note return to page 135 [3] 3 This whole Scene. like many others in these plays (some of which I believe were written by Shakespear, and others interpolated by the players), is composed of the lowest and most trifling conceits, to be accounted for only from the gross taste of the age he lived in; Populo ut placerent. I wish I had authority to leave them out; but I have done all I could: set a mark of reprobation upon them throughout this edition. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 136 [4] 4 Indeed I bid the base for Protheus.] The speaker here turns the allusion (which her mistress employed) from the base in musick to a country exercise Bid-the Base: In which some pursue, and others are made prisoners. So that Lucetta would intend, by this, to say, indeed I take pains to make you a Captive to Protheus's passion.—He uses the same allusion in his Venus and Adonis, To bid the winds a base he now prepares. and in his Cymbaline he mentions the game, &lblank; Lads more like To run the country Base.

Note return to page 137 [5] 5 Some to discover islands far away.] In Shakespear's time, voyages for the discovery of the islands of America were much in vogue. And we find, in the journals of the travellers of that time, that the sons of noblemen, and of others of the best families in England, went very frequently on these adventures. Such as the Fortescues, Collitons, Thorn-hills, Farmers, Pickerings, Littletons, Willoughbys, Chesters, Hawleys, Bromleys, and others. To this prevailing fashion, our poet frequently alludes, and not without high commendations of it.

Note return to page 138 [1] 1 Oh that she could speak now like an ould Woman] The first Folios read would. It should be wode; mad, crazy, frantick with grief.

Note return to page 139 [2] 2 Is it mine then, or Valentino's Praise,] Here Protheus questions with himself, whether it is his own praise, or Valentine's, that makes him fall in love with Valentine's mistress. But not to insist on the absurdity of falling in love through his own praises, he had not indeed praised her any farther than giving his opinion of her in three words, when his friend asked it of him. In all the old editions, we find the line printed thus, Is it mine, or Valentino's praise? A word is wanting. The line was originally thus, Is it mine eye, or Valentino's praise? Protheus had just seen Valentine's mistress, whom her lover had been lavishly praising. His encomiums therefore heightening Protheus's idea of her at the interview, it was the less wonder he should be uncertain which had made the strongest impression, Valentine's praises, or his own view of her.

Note return to page 140 [3] 3 It is Padua in the former editions. See the note on Act 3. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 141 [4] 4 &lblank; If thou hast sinn'd,] We must certainly read &lblank; If I have sinn'd.

Note return to page 142 [1] 1 &lblank; Sir, in Milan here,] It ought to be thus, instead of —in Verona here.—for the Scene apparently is in Milan, as is clear from several passages in the first Act, and in the beginning of the first Scene of the fourth Act. A like mistake has crept into the eighth Scene of Act II. where Speed bids his fellow-servant Launce, welcome to Padua. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 143 [2] 2 Why, Phaëton, for thou art merops' son, Wilt thou aspire to guide the heav'nly car.] Merops' son, i. e. a bastard, base-born.

Note return to page 144 [3] 3 Laun. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind of knave: but that's all one, if he be but one knave.] Where is the sense, or, if you won't allow the Speaker that, where is the humour of this speech? Nothing had given the fool occasion to suspect that his master was become double, like Antipholis in the Comedy of Errors. The last word is corrupt. We should read, &lblank; if he be but one kind. He thought his master was a kind of knave; however, he keeps himself in countenance with this reflexion, that if he was a knave but of one kind, he might pass well enough amongst his neighbours. This is truly humourous.

Note return to page 145 [4] 4 With my master's ship?] This pun restored by Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 146 [5] 5 St. Nicholas be thy speed.] St. Nicholas presided over Scholars, who were therefore called St. Nicholas's Clerks. Hence, by a quibble between Nicholas and Old Nick, Highway-men, in the first part of Henry the fourth, are called Nicholas's Clerks.

Note return to page 147 [6] 6 But say, this weed her love from Valentine, It follows not, that she will love Sir Thurio. Ridiculum caput. Quasi necesse sit, Si huic non dat, te illam uxorem ducere. Ter. Andr.

Note return to page 148 [7] 7 For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews.] This shews Shakespear's knowledge of antiquity. He here assigns Orpheus his true character of legislator. For under that of a poet only, or lover, the quality given to his lute is unintelligible. But, considered as a lawgiver, the thought is noble, and the imag'ry exquisitely beautiful. For by his lute is to be understood his system of laws: and by the poet's sinews, the power of numbers, which Orpheus actually employed in those laws to make them received by a fierce and barbarous people.

Note return to page 149 [1] 1 lov'd her out of all nick.] i. e. out of all count: that is, extravagantly. A phrase taken from accounts when calculations were made by nicking on numbers upon a stick.

Note return to page 150 [2] 2 when I took my leave of Madam Silvia;] We should certainly read Julia, meaning when his master and he left Verona.

Note return to page 151 [3] 3 But since she did neglect her looking-glass, And threw her sun-expelling mask away; The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks, And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face, That now she is become as black as I.] To starve the Roses is certainly a very proper expression: but what is pinching a tincture? However starved, in the third line, made the blundering Editors write pinch'd in the fourth; tho' they might have seen that it was a tanning scorching, not a freezing air that was spoken of. For how could this latter quality in the air so affect the whiteness of the skin as to turn it black. We should read, And pitch'd the lilly-tincture of her face. i. e. turned the white tincture black, as the following line has it, That now she is become as black as I. and we say, in common speech, as black as pitch.—By the roses being starv'd, is only meant their being withered, and losing their colour.

Note return to page 152 [4] 4 My substance should be statue in thy stead.] It is evident this noun should be a participle statued, i. e. placed on a pedestal, or fixed in a shrine to be adored.

Note return to page 153 [1] 1 It is (I think) very odd to give up his mistress thus at once, without any reason alledg'd. But our Author probably followed the stories just as he found them in his novels, as well as in his histories. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 154 [1] 1 This play was written in the Author's best and ripest years, after Henry the Fourth, by the command of Queen Elizabeth. There is a tradition that it was composed at a fortnight's warning: But that must be meant only of the first imperfect sketch of this Comedy, which is yet extant in an old Quarto Edition printed in 1619. This which we have here was altered and improved by the Author almost in every speech. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 155 [2] 2 Speaks small like a woman.] This is from the Folio of 1623, and is the true reading. He admires her for the sweetness of her voice. But the expression is highly humourous, as making her speaking small like a woman one of her marks of distinction; and the ambiguity of small, which signifies little as well as low, makes the expression still more pleasant.

Note return to page 156 [3] 3 &lblank; latin bilboe:] Vulg. old Quarto, 1619, latten, which is right. Latten is tinned plates beaten out very thin.

Note return to page 157 [4] 4 Scarlet and John?] The names of two of Robin Hood's companions; but the humour consists in the allusion to Bardolph's red face; concerning which see the second part of Henry the fourth.

Note return to page 158 [5] 5 will grow more content:] A conundrum restored by Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 159 [6] 6 I keep but three men and a boy yet, &c.] As great a fool as the poet has made Slender, it appears, by his boasting of his wealth, his breeding, and his courage, that he knew how to win a woman. This is a fine instance of Shakespear's knowledge of nature.

Note return to page 160 [7] 7 His mind is not heroick, and there's the humour of it.] Added from the old Quarto of 1619.

Note return to page 161 [8] 8 and translated her well, out of honesty into English.] i. e. into a corrupt language. This is extremely humorous: But I think the word well, coming in here a second time, is an intrusion, and should be thrust out again, as it burdens the diction and obstructs the easy turn of the thought.

Note return to page 162 [9] 9 As many devils entertain; &lblank;] i. e. Take to your assistance as many devils as she has angels, and then you may be a match for her.

Note return to page 163 [1] 1 &lblank; most judicious iliads;] Read oeillades, glances. French. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 164 [2] 2 I will be Cheater to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to me;] The same joke is intended here, as in the second part of Henry the fourth, Act 2.—I will bar no honest man my house, nor no Cheater.—By which is meant Escheatours, an officer in the exchequer, in no good repute with the common people.

Note return to page 165 [3] 3 Falstaff will learn the humour of the age, French thrift, you rogues; my self, and skirted page.] So Beaumont and Fletcher, in The honest man's fortune.   &lblank; 'tis the comfort, that Ill fortune has undone me into the fashion: For now, in this age, most men do begin To keep but one boy, that kept many men.

Note return to page 166 [4] 4 &lblank; For gourd, and Fullam holds: And high and low beguiles the rich and poor.] Fullam is a cant term for false dice, high and low. Torriano, in his Italian Dictionary, interprets Pise by false dice, high and low men, high Fullams, and low Fullams. Johnson, in his Every man out of his humour, quibbles upon this cant term. Who, he serve? He keeps high men and low men, he has a fair living at Fullam.— As for Gourd, or rather Gord, it was another instrument of gaming, as appears from Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady. —And thy dry bones can reach at nothing now, but Gords or nine-pins.

Note return to page 167 for gords read gord.

Note return to page 168 [5] 5 dress meat, and [drink] make the beds, &c.] Dele drink.

Note return to page 169 [1] 1 tho' love use reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsellor:] This is obscure; but the meaning is, tho' love permit reason to tell what is fit to be done, he seldom follows its advice.—By precisian, is meant one who pretends to a more than ordinary degree of virtue and sanctity. On which account they gave this name to the puritans of that time. So Osborne,— Conform their mode, words and looks to these precisians. And Maine, in his City match,   &lblank; I did commend A great precisian to her, for her woman.

Note return to page 170 [2] 2 I'll exhibit a Bill in Parliament for putting down of men.] Mr. Theobald says, we must necessarily read, &lblank; for putting down of fat men. But how is the matter mended? or the thought made less ridiculous? Shakespear wrote, &lblank; for the putting down of mum, i. e. the fattening liquor so called. So Fletcher in his Wild-goose chase: What a cold I have over my stomach, would I had some mum. This is truly humorous, and agrees with the character she had just before given him of Flemish drunkard. But the greatest confirmation of this conjecture is the allusion the words, in question, bear to a matter then publickly transacting. The Merry Wives of Windsor appears to have been wrote in 1601, or very shortly after. And we are informed by Sir Simon D' Ewes' Journal, that no home affair made more noise in and out of parliament at that time, than the suppression and regulation of taverns, inns, ale-houses, strong-liquors and the drinkers of them. In the Parliament held 1597, a bill was brought into both houses, For suppressing the multitude of Malsters, &c. Another. To restrain the excessive making of Malt, and disorderly brewing of strong beer. Another, For regulation of Inns. Taverns, &c In the next Parliament, held 1601, was a bill. For the suppressing of the multitude of Ale-houses and Tipling-houses. Another, Against excessive and common drunkenness; and several others of the same nature. Some of which, after much canvassing, were thrown out, and others passed into Acts.

Note return to page 171 [3] 3 What, thou liest! Sir Alice Ford! these Knights will hack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry.] The unintelligible nonsense of this speech is hardly to be matched. The change of a single letter has occasioned it, which is thus easily removed. Read and point,—These Knights will lack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. The other had said, I could be knighted, meaning, I could have a Knight for my lover; her companion took it in the other sense, of conferring the title, and says, What, thou liest! Sir Alice Ford!—these Knights will lack a title, [i. e. risque the punishment of degradation] rather than not make a whore of thee.] For we are to observe that—and so thou shouldst not, is a mode of speech, amongst the writers of that time, equivalent to—rather than thou shouldst not.

Note return to page 172 [5] 5 I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; &c.] This absurd passage may be pointed into sense. I have a sword, and it shall bite—upon my necessity, he loves your wife, &c.—Having said his sword should bite, he stops short, as was fitting: For he meant that it should bite upon the high-way. And then turns to the subject of his conference, and swears, by his necessity, that Falstaff loved his wife.

Note return to page 173 [5] 5 I will not believe such a Cataian,] Mr. Theobald has here a pleasant note, as usual. This is a piece of satire that did not want its force at the time of this play's appearing; tho' the history on which it is grounded is become obsolete. And then tells a long story of Martin Frobisher attempting the north-west passage, and bringing home a black stone, as he thought, rich in gold-ore: that it proved not so, and that therefore Cataians and Frobishers became by-words for vain boasters.—The whole is an idle dream. All the mystery of the term Cataian, for a liar, is only this. China was anciently called Cataia or Cathay, by the first adventurers that travelled thither; such as M. Paulo, and our Mandeville, who told such incredible wonders of this new discovered empire, (in which they have not been outdone even by the Jesuits themselves, who followed them) that a notorious liar was usually called a Cataian.

Note return to page 174 [6] 6 Will you go an heirs?]This nonsense is spoken to Shallow. We should read, Will you go on, Heris? i. e. Will you go on, Master. Heris, an old Scotch word for master.

Note return to page 175 [7] 7 stand so firmly on his wife's frailty,] Thus all the Copies. But Mr. Theobald has no conception how any man could stand firmly on his wife's frailty. And why? Because he had no conception how he could stand upon it, without knowing what it was. But if I tell a stranger, that the bridge he is about to cross is rotten, and he believes it not, but will go on, may I not say, when I see him upon it, that he stands firmly on a rotten plank? Yet he has changed frailty for fealty, and the Oxford Editor has followed him. But they took the phrase, to stand firmly on, to signify to insist upon; whereas it signifies to rest upon, which the character of a secure fool, given to him, shews. So that the common reading has an elegance that would be lost in the alteration.

Note return to page 176 [8] 8 I will retort the sum in equipage.] This is added from the old Quarto of 1619, and means, I will pay you again in stolen goods.

Note return to page 177 [9] 9 a short knife and a throng.] So Lear, When Cutpurses come not to throngs.

Note return to page 178 [1] 1 your bold-beating oaths;] We should read bold-bearing oaths, i. e. out-facing.

Note return to page 179 [2] 2 This punk is one of Cupid's carriers, Clap on more sails; pursue; up with your fights, Give fire; she is my prize.] This punk is one of Cupid's carriers, is a plausible reading, yet absurd on examination. For are not all punks Cupid's carriers? Shakespear certainly wrote, This pink is one of Cupid's carriers, and then the sense is proper, and the metaphor, which is all the way taken from the marine, entire. A Pink is a vessel of the small craft, employed as a carrier (and so called) for merchants. Fletcher uses the word, in his Tamer Tamed, This pink, this painted foist, this cockle-boat, To hang her fights out, and defy me, Friends! A well-known man-of-war &lblank; As to the word fights, both in the text and in the quotation, it was then, and, for ought I know, may be now, a common sea-term. Sir Richard Hawkins in his voyages, p. 66. says,—For once we cleared her deck, and had we been able to have spared but a dozen men, doubtless; we had done with her what we would; for she had no close fights, i. e. if I understand it right, no small arms. So that by fights is meant any manner of defense, either small arms or cannon. So Dryden, in his tragedy of Amboyna, Up with your fights, And your nettings prepare, &c. But, not considering this, I led the Oxford Editor into a silly conjecture, which he has done me the honour of putting into his text, which is indeed a proper place for it, Up with yond' frigat.

Note return to page 180 [3] 3 Edition of 1619, in all the succeeding editions this name of Brook (I can't tell why) is alter'd to Broom: whereas it is manifest from this conceit upon the name that it should be Brook. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 181 [4] 4 Quarto Edition, 1619. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 182 [5] 5 I will bring thee where Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feasting; and thou shalt woo her, cry'd game; said I well?] Mr. Theobald alters this nonsense to try'd game; that is, to nonsense of a worse complexion. Shakespear wrote and pointed thus, cry aim, said I well? i. e. consent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good proposal? for to cry aim signifies to consent to, or approve of any thing. So again in this play, p. 300, And to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim, i. e. approve them. And again in King John, Act 2. Scene 2. It ill becomes this presence to cry aim To these ill-tuned repetitions, i. e. to approve of, or encourage them. The phrase was taken, originally, from archery. When any one had challenged another to shoot at the butts (the perpetual diversion, as well as exercise, of that time) the standers-by used to say one to the other, Cry aim, i. e. accept the challenge. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Fair maid of the inn, Act 5, make the Duke say, &lblank; must I cry aime To this unheard of insolence &lblank; i. e. encourage it, and agree to the request of the duel, which one of his subjects had insolently demanded against the other.—But here it is remarkable, that the senseless editors not knowing what to make of the phrase Cry aim, read it thus, &lblank; must I cry ai-me: As if it was a note of interjection. So again Massinger in his Guardian, I will cry aim, and in another room Determine of my vengeance &lblank; And again, in his Renegado, &lblank; to play the Pandor To the Viceroy's loose embraces, and cry aim, While he by force or flattery &lblank; But the Oxford Editor transforms it to Cock o' th' Game; and his improvements of Shakespear's language abound with these modern elegancies of speech, such as Mynheers, Bull-baitings, &c.

Note return to page 183 [1] 1 By shallow rivers, &c.] This is part of a beautiful little poem of the author's, which poem, and the answer to it, the reader will not be displeased to find here. The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. Live with me, and be my Love, And we will all the Pleasure prove, That Hills and Vallies, Dale and Field, And all the craggy Mountains yield. There will we sit upon the Rocks, And see the Shepherds feed their Flocks, By shallow Rivers, by whose Falls Melodious Birds sing Madrigales. There will I make thee Beds of Roses, With a thousand fragrant Posies; A Cap of Flowers, and a Girdle Imbroider'd all with leaves of Myrtle; A Gown made of the finest Wool, Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; Fair lined Slippers for the cold, With Buckles of the purest Gold; A Belt of Straw, and Ivie Buds, With Coral Clasps, and Amber Studs. And if these Pleasures may thee move, Then live with me, and be my Love. The Shepherds Swains shall dance and sing, For thy Delight each May Morning. If these Delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my Love. The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd. If that the World and Love were young, And Truth in every Shepherd's Tongue; These pretty Pleasures might me move, To live with thee, and be thy Love. Time drives the Flocks from Field to Fold, When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold; And Philomel becometh dumb, And all complain of Cares to come: The Flowers do fade, and wanton Fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields. A honey Tongue, a Heart of Gall, Is Fancy's Spring, but Sorrow's Fall. Thy Gowns, thy Shoes, thy Bed of Roses, Thy Cap, thy Girdle, and thy Posies: Some break, some wither, some forgotten, In Folly ripe, in Reason rotten. Thy Belt of Straw and Ivie Buds, Thy Coral Clasps and Amber Studs, All these in me no means can move, To come to thee, and be thy Love. But could Youth last, and Love still breed, Had Joys no date, and Age no need; Then these Delights my Mind might move, To Live with thee, and be thy Love.

Note return to page 184 2These words are added from the first edition. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 185 3He writes verses, he speaks holy-day,] i. e. in a highflown, fustian stile. It was called a holy-day stile, from the old custom of acting their Farces of the mysteries and moralities, which were turgid and bombast, on holy days. So in Much ado about nothing.—I cannot woo in festival terms. And again in the Merchant of Venice,—thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.

Note return to page 186 4How now, my Eyas-musket,] Eyas is a young unfledg'd hawk. I suppose from the Italian Niaso, which originally signified any young bird taken from the nest unfledg'd, afterwards, a young hawk. The French, from hence, took their niais, and used it in both those significations; to which they added a third, metaphorically a silly fellow; un garçon fort niais, un niais. —Musket signifies a sparrow hawk, or the smallest species of hawks. This too is from the Italian Muschetto, a small hawk, as appears from the original signification of the word, namely, a troublesome stinging fly. So that the humour of calling the little page an Eyas-musket is very intelligible.

Note return to page 187 5&lblank; that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any Venetian attire.] The old Quarto reads, Tire-vellet, and the old Folio reads, Or any tire of Venetian admittance. So that the true reading of the whole is this, That becomes the ship-tire, the tire-vailant, or any 'tire of Venetian admittance. The speaker tells his mistress, she had a face that would become all the head-dresses in fashion. The ship-tire was an open head-dress, with a kind of scarf depending from behind. Its name of ship-tire was, I presume, from its giving the wearer some resemblance of a ship (as Shakespear says) in all her trim: with all her pennants out, and flags and streamers flying. Thus Milton, in Samson Agonistes, paints Dalila. But who is this, what thing of sea or land? Female of sex it seems, That so bedeckt, ornate and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' Isles Of Javan or Gadier, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play. This was an image familiar with the poets of that time. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in their play of Wit without money, —She spreads sattens as the King's ships do canvas every where, she may space her misen; &c. This will direct us to reform the following word of tire-valiant, which I suspect to be corrupt, valiant being a very incongruous epithet for a woman's head-dress. I suppose Shakespear wrote tire-vailant. As the ship-tire was an open head-dress, so the tire-vailant was a close one; in which the head and breast were covered as with a vail. And these were, in fact, the two different head-dresses then in fashion, as we may see by the pictures of that time. One of which was so open, that the whole neck, breasts and shoulders, were open'd to view: the other, so securely inclosed in kerchiefs, &c. that nothing could be seen above the eyes or below the chin. &lblank; or any Venetian attire.] This is a wrong reading, as appears from the impropriety of the word attire here used for a woman's head-dress: whereas it signifies the dress of any part. We should read therefore, Or any 'tire of Venetian admittance. For the word attire, reduced by the Aphæresis, to 'tire, takes a new signification, and means only the head-dress. Hence Tire-woman, for a dresser of the head. As to the meaning of the latter part of the sentence, this may be seen by a paraphrase of the whole speech.—Your face is so good, says the speaker, that it would become any head-dress worn at court, either the open or the close, or indeed any rich and fashionable one worth adorning with Venetian point, or which will admit to be adorned. [Of Venetian admittance] The fashionable lace, at that time, was Venetian point.

Note return to page 188 6So now uncape.] So the Folio of 1623 reads, and rightly. It is a term in Fox-hunting, which signifies to dig out the Fox when earth'd. And here is as much as to say, take out the foul linnen under which the adulterer lies hid. The Oxford Editor reads uncouple, out of pure love to an emendation.

Note return to page 189 7Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i'th' earth, And bowl'd to death with turnips. Can we think the speaker would thus ridicule her own imprecation? We may be sure the last line should be given to the procuress, Quickly, who would mock the young woman's aversion for her master the Doctor.

Note return to page 190 8by her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction,] We must read direction. For tho' the speaker might think Ford's wife much frighted at the approach of her husband, yet he is here speaking of the part which she bore in an artful contrivance to deceive him.

Note return to page 191 [1] 1 Why, this passes, Mr. Ford.] No phrase occurs more frequently in Shakespear than this—it past,—and—it passes. It is used on all occasions treated in the familiar way, and always conveys the idea of excess: So that it passes signifies it surpasses all measure, imagination, or expression. And this is the sense of the phrase wherever it is used. Englishmen hate long speeches, which hath made our tongue abound with half sentences, and, what is more, with half words. It takes is another phrase of the same kind, which modern use has rendered very intelligible, yet in it self it is as ambiguous as it passes. The whole sentence being—it takes or captivates the judgment, the fancy, the Interest, the passions, &c.

Note return to page 192 [2] 2 they must come off;] This can never be our Poet's or his Host's meaning. To come off being in other terms to go scot-free. We must read, compt off, i. e. clear their reckoning.

Note return to page 193 [3] 3 With some diffused song:] A diffused song signifies a song that strikes out into wild sentiments beyond the bounds of nature, such as those whose subject is fairy-land.

Note return to page 194 [4] 4 And fairy-like to pinch the unclean Knight;] The Grammar requires us to read, And fairy-like too, pinch the unclean Knight.

Note return to page 195 [5] 5 That silk will I go buy, and in that time &lblank;] Mr. Theobald referring that time to the time of buying the silk, alters it to tire. But there is no need of any change: That time evidently relating to the time of the mask with which Falstaff was to be entertained, and which makes the whole subject of this dialogue. Therefore the common reading is right.

Note return to page 196 [4] 4 There is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death;] i. e. being born in an odd year, having an odd number in a lottery, and the climacteric years of 7 and 63.

Note return to page 197 [1] 1 No man means evil but the devil.] This is a double blunder; for some, of whom this was spoke, were women. We should read then, no one means.

Note return to page 198 [a] [(a) Welch devil Evans? Dr. Thirlby,—Vulg. Herne.]

Note return to page 199 [a] [(a) bribe-buck, Mr. Theobald,—Vulg. brib'd buck.]

Note return to page 200 [2] 2 You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny.] But why Orphan-heirs? Destiny, whom they succeeded, was yet in being. Doubtless the Poet wrote, You ouphen-heirs of fixed destiny. i. e. you Elves, who minister, and succeed in some of the works of destiny. They are called, in this Play, both before and afterwards, Ouphes; here Ouphen; en being the plural termination of Saxon nouns. For the word is from the Saxon, Alfenne, lamiæ, dæmones. Or it may be understood to be an adjective, as wooden, woolen, golden, &c.

Note return to page 201 [3] 3 Raise up the organs of her fantasie;] The sense of this speech is—that she, who had performed her religious duties, should be secure against the illusion of fancy; and have her sleep, like that of infancy, undisturbed by disordered dreams. This was then the popular opinion, that evil spirits had a power over the fancy; and, by that means, could inspire wicked dreams into those who, on their going to sleep, had not recommended themselves to the protection of heaven. So Shakespear makes one, on his lying down, say, From fairies, and the tempters of the night, Protect us heav'n! As this is the sense, let us see how the common reading expresses it; Raise up the organs of her fantasie, i. e. inflame her imagination with sensual ideas; which is just the contrary to what the Poet would have the speaker say. We cannot therefore but conclude he wrote, Rein up the organs of her fantasie, i. e. curb them, that she be no more disturbed by irregular imaginations, than children in their sleep. For, he adds immediately, Sleep she as sound as careless infancy. So in the Tempest, Give not dalliance too much the rein. And in Measure for Measure, I give my sensual race the rein. To give the rein, being just the contrary to rein up. The same thought he has again in Mackbeth, &lblank; Mercyful powers! Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose.

Note return to page 202 [4] 4 In state as wholsom.] The Oxford Editor not knowing the meaning of wholsom, has alter'd it to, In site as wholsom, and so has made the wish a most absurd one. For the site or situation must needs be what it is, till the general destruction. But wholsom here signifies integer. He wishes the castle may stand in its present state of perfection, which the following words plainly shew—as in state 'tis fit.

Note return to page 203 [5] 5 Worthy the owner, and the owner it.] And cannot be the true reading. The context will not allow it; and his court to Queen Elizabeth directs us to another, &lblank; as the owner it. for, sure he had more address than to content himself with wishing a thing to be, which his complaisance must suppose actually was, namely, the worth of the owner.

Note return to page 204 [6] 6 In emrold-tuffs, flow'rs Purple, blue and white, Like saphire, pearl, and rich embroidery.] These lines are most miserably corrupted. In the words,—Flowers purple, blue and white,—the purple is left uncompared. To remedy this, the Editors, who seem to have been sensible of the imperfection of the comparison, read, and rich embroidery; that is, according to them, as the blue and white flowers are compared to saphire and pearl, the purple is compared to rich embroidery. Thus instead of mending one false step they have made two, by bringing saphire, pearl and rich embroidery under one predicament. The lines were wrote thus by the Poet, In emrold-tuffs, flow'rs purfled, blue and white, Like saphire, pearl, in rich embroidery. i. e. let there be blue and white flow'rs worked on the green-sword, like saphire and pearl in rich embroidery. To purfle is to over-lay with tinsel, gold thread, &c. so our ancestors called a certain lace of this kind of work a purfling-lace. 'Tis from the French, pourfiler. So Spencer, &lblank; she was yclad All in a silken Camus, lilly-white, Purfled upon, with many a folded plight. 2. 3. 26. The change of and into in, in the second verse, is necessary. For flow'rs worked, or purfled in the grass, were not like saphire and pearl simply, but saphire and pearl in embroidery. How the corrupt reading and was introduced into the text, we have shewn above.

Note return to page 205 [a] [(a) i'th' blood, a fire, Oxford Editor.—Vulg. a bloody fire.]

Note return to page 206 [7] 7 I am not able to answer the Welch Flannel.] Shakespear possibly wrote Welch Flamen. As Sir Hugh was a choloric Priest, and apt to take fire, flamen was a very proper name, it being given to that order of Latin priests from the flame-coloured habit. By the same kind of humour the scullion, in The Comedy of Errors, is called the Kitchen-Vestal, it being her business to keep the fire in repair.

Note return to page 207 [8] 8 This speech is taken from the edition of 1619. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 208 [1] 1 The story is taken from Cinthio's Novels, December 9. November 5. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 209 [2] 2 Since I am not to know, that your own Science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you: then no more remains: Put that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them work.] To the integrity of this reading Mr. Theobald objects, and says, What was Escalus to put to his sufficiency! why his science: But his science and sufficiency were but one and the same thing. On what then does the relative them depend? He will have it, therefore, that a line has been accidentally dropt, which he attempts to restore by due diligence. Nodum in scirpo quærit. And all for want of knowing, that by sufficiency is meant authority, the power delegated by the Duke to Escalus. The plain meaning of the word [Subnote: for word read words.] being this; Put your skill in governing (says the Duke) to the power which I give you to exercise it, and let them work together.

Note return to page 210 [3] 3 &lblank; and the terms of common justice,] i. e. bounds, limits.

Note return to page 211 [4] 4 For you must know we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply;] This nonsense must be corrected thus, &lblank; with special roll i. e. by a special commission. For it appears, from this scene, that Escalus had one commission, and Angelo another. The Duke had before delivered Escalus his commission. He now declares that designed for Angelo: and he says, afterwards, to both, To th' hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions. Why Angelo's was called the special roll was, because he was in authority superior to Escalus. &lblank; old Escalus, Tho' first in question, is thy secondary.

Note return to page 212 [5] 5 &lblank; for if our virtues, &c.] Paulùm sepultæ distat inertiæ Celata virtus. &lblank; Horat.

Note return to page 213 [6] 6 &lblank; But I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advertise;] This is obscure. The meaning is, I direct my speech to one who is able to teach me how to govern: my part in him, signifying my office, which I have delegated to him.

Note return to page 214 [7] 7 &lblank; my part in him advertise;] i. e. who knows what appertains to the character of deputy or viceroy. Can advertise my part in him; that is, his representation of my person. But all these quaintnesses of expression, the Oxford Editor seems sworn to extirpate; that is, to take away one of Shakespear's characteristic marks; which, if not one of the comliest, is yet one of the strongest. So he alters this to To one that can, in my part, me advertise. A better expression indeed, but, for all that, none of Shakespear's.

Note return to page 215 [8] 8 Come, no more evasion: We have with a prepar'd and leaven'd choice Proceeded to you;] leaven'd has no sense in this place: we should read level'd choice. The allusion is to archery, when a man has fixed upon his object, after taking good aim.

Note return to page 216 [9] 9 In any proportion, &c.] Here the Oxford Editor gives us a dialogue of his own, instead of this: and, as one would expect, neither so clear nor so lively. And all for want of knowing the meaning of the word proportion, which signifies measure: and refers to the question, What, in meeter?

Note return to page 217 [1] 1 despight of all controversie;] Satirically insinuating that the controversies about grace were so intricate and endless, that the disputants unsettled every thing but this, that grace was grace; which, however, in spite of controversy, still remained certain.

Note return to page 218 [2] 2 They shall stand for seed;] Seneca, in his mock Apotheosis of Claudius, ridiculing him for having extended the rights of Roman citizens so immoderately, makes Clotho say, Ego mehercule, pusillum temporis adjicere illi volebam, dum hos pauculos, qui supersunt, civitate donaret: constituerat enim omnes Græcos, Gallos, Hispanos, Britannos, togatos videre. Sed quoniam placet aliquos peregrinos in semen relinqui, et tu ita jubes fieri, fiat.

Note return to page 219 [3] 3 Thus can the Demi-god, Authority, Make us pay down, for our offence, by weight The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will; On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.] The wrong pointing of the second line hath made the passage unintelligible. There ought to be a full stop at weight. And the sense of the whole is this: The Demi-god, Authority, makes us pay the full penalty of our offence, and its decrees are as little to be questioned as the words of heaven, which pronounces its pleasure thus,—I punish and remit punishment according to my own uncontroulable will; and yet who can say what dost thou.—Make us pay down, for our offence, by weight, is a fine expression, to signify paying the full penalty. The metaphor is taken from paying money by weight, which is always exact; not so by tale, on account of the practice of diminishing the species.

Note return to page 220 [4] 4 &lblank; most mutual &lblank;] i. e. most intimate. The phrase is extremely elegant on this occasion; yet disliked by the Oxford Editor, who strikes out most.

Note return to page 221 [5] 5 A man of stricture and firm abstinence] stricture makes no sense in this place. We should read, A man of strict ure and firm abstinence. i. e. a man of the exactest conduct, and practised in the subdual of his passions. Ure an old word for use, practice, so enur'd, habituated to.

Note return to page 222 [6] 6 The needful bits and curbs for headstrong weeds,] Common sense, and the integrity of the metaphor, shews that Shakespear wrote headstrong steeds.

Note return to page 223 [7] 7 &lblank; We have let slip; Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave,] The similitude shews that Shakespear wrote, &lblank; we have let sleep.

Note return to page 224 [8] 8 When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men, But in the presence of the Prioress; Then, if you speak, you must not shew your face; Or, if you shew your face, you must not speak.] This is a very artful preparation for the effects that Isabel's solicitation had on Angelo in the following Scene, as it shews the mischiefs of beauty to be so great, that the Religious had laid down rules and regulations to prevent its inordinate influence, which lessens our surprise at Angelo's weakness.

Note return to page 225 [9] 9 &lblank; 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, &lblank;] The Oxford Editor's note, on this passage, is in these words. The lapwings fly with seeming fright and anxiety far from their nests, to deceive those who seek their young. And do not all other birds do the same? But what has this to do with the infidelity of a general lover, to whom this bird is compared. It is another quality of the lapwing, that is here alluded to, viz. its perpetually flying so low and so near the passenger, that he thinks he has it, and then is suddenly gone again. This made it a proverbial expression to signify a lover's falshood: and it seems to be a very old one; for Chaucer, in his Plowman's Tale, says—And lapwings that well conith lie.

Note return to page 226 [1] 1 That from the seedness &lblank;] An old word for seed-time. So the lawyers translate semen hyemale & quadragesimale, by winter seedness, and lent seedness.

Note return to page 227 [2] 2 &lblank; foyson;] Harvest. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 228 [1] 1 Than fall, and bruise to death.] I should rather read fell, i. e. strike down. So in Timon of Athens, All, save thee, I fell with curses.

Note return to page 229 [2] 2 I'll rent the fairest house in it, for three pence a bay:] Mr. Theobald found that this was the reading of the old books, and he follows it out of pure reverence for antiquity; for he knows nothing of the meaning of it. He supposes Bay to be that projection called a Bay-window; as if the way of rating houses was by the number of their Bay-windows. But it is quite another thing, and signifies the squared frame of a timber house; each of which divisions or squares is called a Bay. Hence a building of so many Bays.

Note return to page 230 [3] 3 &lblank; all the souls that were,] This is false divinity. We should read are.

Note return to page 231 [4] 4 And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.] This is a fine thought, and finely expressed: The meaning is, that mercy will add such grace to your person, that you will appear as amiable as man come fresh out of the hands of his creator.

Note return to page 232 [5] 5 &lblank; like a prophet, Looks in a glass] This alludes to the fopperies of the Berril, much used at that time by cheats and fortune-tellers to predict by.

Note return to page 233 [a] [(a) But ere they live,—Oxford Edit. Vulg. But here they live.]

Note return to page 234 [6] 6 As makes the angels weep;] The notion of angels weeping for the sins of men is rabbinical.—Ob peccatum flentes angelos inducunt Hebræorum magistri.—Grotius ad Lucam.

Note return to page 235 [7] 7 &lblank; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.] Mr. Theobald says the meaning of this is, that if they were endowed with our spleens and perishable organs, they would laugh themselves out of immortality: Which amounts to this, that if they were mortal they would not be immortal. Shakespear meant no such nonsense. By spleens, he meant that peculiar turn of the human mind, that always violently inclines it to a spiteful, unseasonable mirth. Had the angels that, says Shakespear, they would laugh themselves out of their immortality, by indulging a passion which does not deserve that prerogative. The ancients thought, that immoderate laughter was caused by the bigness of the spleen.

Note return to page 236 [8] 8 We cannot weigh our brother with our self:] Why could she not? She could not weigh her brother with the Duke indeed, their qualities being so disproportioned as to aggravate her brother's crimes, and extenuate the Duke's. So that it is plain we should read &lblank; with your self.

Note return to page 237 [9] 9 That my sense bleeds with it.] The first Folio reads breeds, which tho' it have no meaning, yet Mr. Theobald adopts, and discards a very sensible word, to make room for it.

Note return to page 238 [1] 1 &lblank; tested gold,] i. e. attested, or marked with the standard stamp.

Note return to page 239 [2] 2 &lblank; preserved souls,] i. e. preserved from the corruption of the world. The metaphor is taken from fruits preserved in sugar.

Note return to page 240 [3] 3 &lblank; virtuous season.] i, e. kindly season. But the subject here gives the figure a peculiar elegance.

Note return to page 241 [4] 4 Who falling in the flaws of her own youth Hath blister'd her report:] Who doth not see that the integrity of the metaphor requires we should read flames of her own youth.

Note return to page 242 [5] 5 &lblank; oh, injurious love,] Her execution was respited on account of her pregnancy, the effects of her love: therefore she calls it injurious; not that it brought her to shame, but that it hindered her freeing herself from it. Is not this all very natural? yet the Oxford Editor changes it to injurious law.

Note return to page 243 [6] 6 Whilst my intention,] Nothing can be either plainer or exacter than this expression. But the old blundering Folio having it, invention, this was enough for Mr. Theobald to prefer authority to sense.

Note return to page 244 [7] 7 Grown fear'd and tedious;] We should read sear'd: i. e. old. So Shakespear uses, in the sear, to signify old age.

Note return to page 245 [8] 8 Let's write good angel on the devil's horn; 'Tis not the devil's crest.] i. e. Let the most wicked thing have but a virtuous pretence, and it shall pass for innocent. This was his conclusion from his preceeding words, &lblank; oh form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? &lblank; But the Oxford Editor makes him conclude just counter to his own premises; by altering it to, Is't not the devil's crest. So that, according to this alteration, the reasoning stands thus.— False seeming wrenches awe from fools, and deceives the wise. Therefore, Let us but write good angel on the devil's horn; (i. e. give him the appearance of an angel;) and what then? Is't not the devil's crest? (i. e. he shall be esteem'd a devil.)

Note return to page 246 [9] 9 &lblank; 'tis all as easie.] Easie is here put for light or trifling. 'Tis, says he, as light or trifling a crime to do so, as so, &c. Which the Oxford Editor not apprehending, has alter'd it to just; for 'tis much easier to conceive what Shakespear should say, than what he does say. So just before, the poet said, with his usual licence, their sawcy sweetness, for sawcy indulgence of the appetite. And this, forsooth, must be changed to sawcy lewdness, tho' the epithet confines us, as it were, to the poet's word.

Note return to page 247 [1] 1 Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he, &c.] This is so obscure, but the allusion so fine, that it deserves to be explain'd. A feodary was one, that in the times of vassalage held lands of the chief lord, under the tenure of paying rent and service: which tenures were call'd feuda amongst the Goths. Now, says Angelo, “we are all frail; yes, replies Isabella; if all mankind were not feodaries, who owe what they are to this tenure of imbecillity, and who succeed each other by the same tenure, as well as my brother, I would give him up.” The comparing mankind, lying under the weight of original sin, to a feodary, who owes suit and service to his lord, is, I think, not ill imagined.

Note return to page 248 [2] 2 And credulous to false prints.] i. e. take any impression.

Note return to page 249 *&lblank; speak the former language.] We should read formal, which he here uses for plain, direct.

Note return to page 250 *I know your virtue hath a licence in't,] Alluding to the licences given by Ministers to their Spies, to go into all suspected companies and join in the language of Malecontents.

Note return to page 251 [3] 3 My vouch against you,] The calling his denial of her charge, his vouch, has something fine. Vouch is the testimony one man bears for another. So that, by this, he insinuates his authority was so great, that his denial would have the same credit that a vouch or testimony has in ordinary cases.

Note return to page 252 [4] 4 &lblank; stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny.] Metaphor taken from a lamp or candle going out.

Note return to page 253 [1] 1 &lblank; Reason thus with life; If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing, That none but fools would keep.] But this reading is not only contrary to all sense and reason; but to the drift of this moral discourse. The Duke, in his assum'd character of a Friar, is endeavouring to instil into the condemn'd prisoner a resignation of mind to his sentence; but the sense of the lines, in this reading, is a direct persuasive to Suicide! I make no doubt, but the Poet wrote, That none but Fools would reck. i. e. care for, be anxious about, regret the loss of. So in the Tragedy of Tancred and Gismunda, Act 4. Scene 3. &lblank; Not that she recks this life &lblank; And Shakespear in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Recking as little what betideth me &lblank;

Note return to page 254 [2] 2 &lblank; meerly thou art Death's Fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet runn'st tow'rd him still.] In those old Farces called moralities, the Fool of the piece, in order to shew the inevitable approaches of Death, is made to employ all his stratagems to avoid him: which, as the matter is ordered, bring the Fool, at every turn, into his very jaws. So that the representations of these scenes would afford a great deal of good mirth and morals mixed together. And from such circumstances, in the genius of our ancestors publick diversions, I suppose it was, that the old proverb arose, of being merry and wise.

Note return to page 255 [3] 3 &lblank; Thou art not noble; For all th' accommodations, that thou bear'st, Are nurs'd by baseness:] This enigmatical sentence, so much in the manner of our Author, is a fine proof of his knowledge of human nature. The meaning of it being this, Thy most virtuous actions have a selfish motive, and even those of them which appear most generous, are but the more artful disguises of self-love.

Note return to page 256 [4] 4 &lblank; Thy best of Rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grosly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.] Evidently from the following passage of Cicero: Habes somnum imaginem Mortis, camque quotidie induis, & dubitas quin sensus in morte nullus sit, cum in ejus simulacro videas esse nullum sensum. But the Epicurean insinuation is, with great judgment, omitted in the imitation.

Note return to page 257 [5] 5 &lblank; Thou hast nor youth, nor age; But as it were an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms of palsied Eld.] The drift of this period is to prove, that neither youth nor age can be said to be really enjoyed, which, in poetical language, is,—We have neither youth nor age. But how is this made out? That Age is not enjoyed he proves, by recapitulating the infirmities of it, which deprive that period of life of all sense of pleasure. To prove that Youth is not enjoyed, he uses these words, For all thy blessed youth becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms of palsied Eld. Out of which, he that can deduce the conclusion, has a better knack at logic than I have. I suppose the Poet wrote, &lblank; for pall'd, thy blazed youth Becomes assuaged; and doth beg the alms Of palsied Eld; &lblank; i. e. when thy youthful appetite becomes palled, as it will be in the very enjoyment, the blaze of youth is at once assuaged, and thou immediately contractest the infirmities of old age; as, particularly, the palsie and other nervous disorders, consequent on the inordinate use of sensual pleasures. This is to the purpose; and proves Youth is not enjoyed by shewing the short duration of it. The words of Cicero, of which this is an imitation, confirm this emendation, Quæ verò ætas longa est? Aut quid omnino homini longum? Nonne modò pueros, modò adolescentes, in cursu à tergo insequens, nec opinantes assecuta est senectus?

Note return to page 258 [6] 6 &lblank; heat, affection, limb, nor beauty.] But how does beauty make riches pleasant? We should read bounty, which compleats the sense, and is this; Thou hast neither the pleasure of enjoying riches thy self, for thou wantest vigour: nor of seeing it enjoyed by others, for thou wantest bounty. Where the making the want of bounty as inseparable from old age as the want of health, is extremely satyrical tho' not altogether just.

Note return to page 259 [7] 7 The princely Angelo?—princely guards.] The stupid Editors mistaking guards for satellites, (whereas it here signifies lace) altered priestly, in both places, to princely. Whereas Shakespear wrote it priestly, as appears from the words themselves, &lblank; 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover With priestly guards. &lblank; In the first place we see that guards here signifies lace, as referring to livery, and as having no sense in the signification of satellites. Now priestly guards means sanctity, which is the sense required. But princely guards means nothing but rich lace, which is a sense the passage will not bear. Angelo, indeed, as Deputy, might be called the princely Angelo: but not in this place, where the immediately preceding words of, This outward sainted Deputy, demand the reading I have here restored.

Note return to page 260 [a] [(a) give thee for this rank offence, Oxf. Edit.—Vulg. give't thee; from this rank offence.]

Note return to page 261 [8] 8 &lblank; bite the law by th' nose, When he would force it?] i. e. inforce it. This is but a kind of bear-garden phrase, taken from the custom of driving cattle, and setting a dog upon them to catch them by the nose, and stop them when they go astray.

Note return to page 262 [9] 9 &lblank; and the delighted spirit] i. e. the spirit accustomed here to ease and delights. This was properly urged as an aggravation to the sharpness of the torments spoken of. The Oxford Editor not apprehending this, alters it to dilated. As if, because the spirit in the body is said to be imprisoned, it was crowded together likewise; and so, by death, not only set free, but expanded too; which, if true, would make it the less sensible of pain.

Note return to page 263 [1] 1 The weariest, &c.] See the infamous wish of Mæcenas, recorded by Seneca, 101 Ep. Debilem facito manu, Debilem pede, coxa, &c. Vita dum superest, bene est, &c.

Note return to page 264 [2] 2 Do not satisfie your resolution with hopes that are fallible;] A condemned man, whom his confessor had brought to bear death with decency and resolution, began anew to entertain hopes of life. This occasioned the advice in the words above. But how did these hopes satisfie his resolution? or what harm was there, if they did? We must certainly read, Do not falsifie your resolution with hopes that are fallible. And then it becomes a reasonable admonition. For hopes of life, by drawing him back into the world, would naturally elude or weaken the virtue of that resolution, which was raised only on motives of religion. And this his confessor had reason to warn him of. The term falsifie is taken from fencing, and signifies the pretending to aim a stroke in order to draw the adversary off his guard. So Fairfax, Now strikes he out, and now he falsifieth.

Note return to page 265 [3] 3 bastard.] A kind of sweet wine then much in vogue. From the Italian, Bastardo.

Note return to page 266 [4] 4 'Twas never merry world since of two usuries the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law. A furr'd gown, &c.] Here a satire on usury turns abruptly to a satire on the person of the usurer, without any kind of preparation. We may be assured then, that a line or two, at least, have been lost. The subject of which we may easily discover, a comparison between the two usurers; as, before, between the two usuries. So that for the future the passage should be read with asterisks thus—by order of law. *** a furr'd gown, &c.

Note return to page 267 [a] [(a) array my self. Mr. Bishop.—Vulg. away my self.]

Note return to page 268 [5] 5 &lblank; as faults, from seeming, free!] i. e. as faults are destitute of all comeliness or seeming. The first of these lines refers to the Deputy's sanctified hypocrisy; the second, to the Clown's beastly occupation. But the latter part is thus ill expressed for the sake of the rhime.

Note return to page 269 [6] 6 Pigmalion's images, newly made woman,] i. e. come out cured from a salivation.

Note return to page 270 [7] 7 Is't not drown'd i'th' last rain?] This strange nonsense should be thus corrected, It's not down i'th' last reign, i. e. these are severities unknown to the old Duke's time. And this is to the purpose.

Note return to page 271 [8] 8 Go, say, I sent thee thither. For debt Pompey? or how?] It should be pointed thus, Go, say, I sent thee thither for debt, Pompey; or how—, i. e. to hide the ignominy of thy case, say, I sent thee to prison for debt, or whatever other pretence thou fanciest better. The other humourous replies, For being a bawd, for being a bawd, i. e. the true cause is the most honourable. This is in character.

Note return to page 272 [9] 9 It is too general a vice,] The occasion of the observation was Lucio's saying, that it ought to be treated with a little more lenity; and his answer to it is,—The vice is of great kindred. Nothing can be more absurd than all this. From the occasion, and the answer, therefore, it appears, that Shakespear wrote, It is too gentle a vice, which signifying both indulgent and well bred, Lucio humourously takes it in the latter sense.

Note return to page 273 [1] 1 mercy swear.] We should read swerve, i. e. deviate from her nature. The common reading gives us the idea of a ranting whore.

Note return to page 274 [2] 2 How may likeness made in crimes, Making practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most pondrous and substantial things.] Thus all the Editions read corruptly: and so have made an obscure passage in itself, quite unintelligible. Shakespear wrote it thus, How may that likeness, made in crimes, Making practice of the times, Draw &lblank; The sense is this, How much wickedness may a man hide within, tho' he appear an angel without. How may that likeness made in crimes, i. e. by Hypocrisy; [a pretty paradoxical expression, an angel made in crimes] by imposing upon the world [thus emphatically expressed, making practice on the times] draw with its false and feeble pretences [finely called spiders strings] the most pondrous and substantial matters of the world, as Riches, Honour, Power, Reputation, &c.

Note return to page 275 [1] 1 Take, oh, take, &c.] This is part of a little sonnet of Shakespear's own writing, consisting of two Stanzas, and so extremely sweet, that the reader won't be displeased to have the other. Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow, Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops, the pinks, that grow, Are of those that April wears. But my poor heart first set free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.

Note return to page 276 [2] 2 In action all of precept, &lblank;] i. e. shewing the several turnings of the way with his hand; which action contained so many precepts, being given for my direction.

Note return to page 277 [3] 3 O place and greatness! &c.] It plainly appears that this fine speech belongs to that which concludes the preceding Scene, between the Duke and Lucio. For they are absolutely foreign to the subject of this, and are the natural reflections arising from that. Besides, the very words, Run with these false and most contrarious quests, evidently refer to Lucio's scandals just preceding: which the Oxford Editor, in his usual way, has emended, by altering these to their.—But that some time might be given to the two women to confer together, the players, I suppose, took part of the speech, beginning at No might nor greatness, &c. and put it here, without troubling themselves about its pertinency. However, we are obliged to them for not giving us their own impertinency, as they have frequently done in other places.

Note return to page 278 [4] 4 Doth flourish the deceit.] A metaphor taken from embroidery, where a coarse ground is filled up and covered with figures of rich materials and elegant workmanship.

Note return to page 279 [5] 5 &lblank; for yet our tythe's to sow.] As before, the blundering Editors had made a prince of the priestly Angelo, so here they have made a priest of the prince. We should read tilth, i. e. our tillage is yet to make. The grain, from which we expect our harvest, is not yet put into the ground.

Note return to page 280 [6] 6 discredit our mystery.] I think it just worth while to observe, that the word mystery, when used to signify a trade or manual profession, should be spelt with an i, and not a y; because it comes not from the Greek &grM;&gru;&grs;&grha;&gre;&gri;&gra;, but from the French, Mestier.

Note return to page 281 [7] 7 what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. Clown. Proof.— Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. Clown. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough: if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief.] Thus it stood in all the editions till Mr. Theobald's, and was methinks not very difficult to be understood. The plain and humourous sense of the speech is this, Every true man's apparel which the thief robbs him of, fits the thief. Why? because if it be too little for the thief, the true man thinks it big enouhg: i. e. a purchase too good for him. So that this fits the thief in the opinion of the true man. But if it be too big for the thief, yet the thief thinks it little enough; i. e. of value little enough. So that this fits the thief in his own opinion. Where we see that the pleasantry of the joke consists in the equivocal sense of big enough and little enough. Yet Mr. Theobald says, he can see no sense in all this, and therefore alters the whole thus,—Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. Clown. If it be too little for your true man, your thief thinks it big enough: if it be too big for your true man, your thief thinks it little enough.—And for his alteration gives this extraordinary reason.—I am satisfied the poet intended a regular syllogism; and I submit it to judgment, whether my regulation has not restor'd that wit and humour which was quite lost in the depravation.—But the place is corrupt, tho' Mr. Theobald could not find it out. Let us consider it a little. The Hangman calls his trade a mistery: the Clown cannot conceive it. The Hangman undertakes to prove it in these words, Every true man's apparel, &c. but this proves the thief's trade a mistery, not the hangman's. Hence it appears that the speech, in which the hangman proved his trade a mistery, is lost. The very words it is impossible to retrieve, but one may easily understand what medium he employed in proving it: without doubt the very same the clown employed to prove the thief's trade a mistery; namely, that all sort of clothes fitted the hangman. The Clown, on hearing this argument, replied, I suppose, to this effect; Why, by the same kind of reasoning, I can prove the thief's trade too to be a mistery. The other asks how, and the Clown goes on as above, Every true man's apparel fits your thief; if it be too little, &c. The jocular conclusion from the whole being an insinuation that thief and hangman were rogues alike. This conjecture gives a spirit and integrity to the dialogue, which, in its present mangled condition, is altogether wanting: and shews why the argument of every true man's apparel, &c. was in all the editions given to the Clown, to whom indeed it belongs; and likewise that the present reading of that argument is the true. The lost speeches came in at the place marked by the asterisks.

Note return to page 282 [a] [(a) yare: the old books.—Vulg. yours.]

Note return to page 283 [8] 8 meal'd] i. e. mingled.

Note return to page 284 [9] 9 lay myself in hazard.] Metaphor from chess-play.

Note return to page 285 [1] 1 nothing of what is writ.] We should read—here writ.— the Duke pointing to the letter in his hand.

Note return to page 286 [2] 2 in for the Lord's-sake.] i. e. to beg for the rest of their lives.

Note return to page 287 [a] [(a) To th' under generation, Oxford Edition. Vulg. To yonder generation]

Note return to page 288 [3] 3 &lblank; yet reason dares her:] The old Folio impressions read, —yet reason dares her No. And this is right. The meaning is, the circumstances of our case are such, that she will never venture to contradict me: dares her to reply No to me, whatever I say.

Note return to page 289 [4] 4 He says, to vail full purpose.] Mr. Theobald alters it to He says, t'availful purpose; because he has no idea of the common reading. A good reason! Yet the common reading is right. Full is used for beneficial; and the meaning is, He says, it is to hide a beneficial purpose, that must not be yet revealed.

Note return to page 290 [1] 1 And hide the false, seems true.] We should read Not hide.

Note return to page 291 for wish read wish'd.

Note return to page 292 [2] 2 Oh, that it were as like, as it is true!] Like is not here used for probable, but for seemly. She catches at the Duke's word, and turns it to another sense; of which there are a great many examples in Shakespear, and the writers of that time.

Note return to page 293 [3] 3 In countenance:] i. e. in partial favour.

Note return to page 294 [4] 4 Whenever he's conven'd.] The first Folio reads convented, and this is right: for to convene signifies to assemble; but convent, to cite, or summons. Yet, because convented hurts the measure, the Oxford Editor sticks to conven'd, tho' it be nonsense, and signifies, Whenever he is assembled together. But thus it will be, when the author is thinking of one thing and his critic of another. The poet was attentive to his sense, and the Editor, quite throughout his performance, to nothing but the measure: which Shakespear having entirely neglected, like all the dramatic writers of that age, he has spruced him up with all the exactness of a modern measurer of Syllables. This being here taken notice of once for all, shall, for the future, be forgot, as if it had never been.

Note return to page 295 [5] 5 informal women] i. e. women who have ill concerted their story. Formal signifies frequently, in our author, a thing put into form or method: so informal, out of method, ill concerted. How easy is it to say, that Shakespear might better have wrote informing, i. e. accusing. But he who (as the Oxford Editor) thinks he did write so, knows nothing of the character of his stile.

Note return to page 296 [6] 6 Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,] Barbers shops were, at all times, the resort of idle people. Tonstrina erat quædam: hîc solebamus ferè Plerumque eam opperiri &lblank; Which Donatus calls apta sedes otiosis. Formerly, with us, the better sort of people went to the Barber's shop to be trimm'd; who then practised the under parts of Surgery: so that he had occasion for numerous instruments, which lay there ready for use; and the idle people, with whom his shop was generally crowded, would be perpetually handling and misusing them. To remedy which, I suppose, there was placed up against the wall a table of forfeitures, adapted to every offence of this kind; which, it is not likely, would long preserve its authority.

Note return to page 297 *That brain'd my purpose:] We should read bain'd. i. e. destroy'd.

Note return to page 298 *&lblank; deny thee vantage.] Vantage, for means, opportunity.

Note return to page 299 [7] 7 Against all sense you do importune her.] The meaning required is, against all reason and natural affection; Shakespear, therefore, judiciously uses a single word that implies both; Sense signifying both reason and affection.

Note return to page 300 [a] [(a) her worth works yours, Oxf. Edit.—Vulg. her worth worth yours.]

Note return to page 301 [8] 8 according to the trick;] i. e. the fashion. So to trick up, signifies to dress in the mode.

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