Note return to page 1 [1] 1 The Story from Ariosto, Orl. Fur. l. 5. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 2 [2] 2 joy could not shew it self modest enough, without a badge of bitterness.] This is judiciously express'd. Of all the transports of Joy, that which is attended with tears is least offensive; because carrying with it this mark of pain, it allays the envy that usually attends another's happiness. This he finely calls a modest joy, such a one as did not insult the observer by an indication of happiness unmixed with pain.

Note return to page 3 [3] 3 is Signior Montanto return'd] Montánte, in Spanish, is a huge two-handed sword, given, with much humour, to one, the speaker would represent as a Boaster or Bravado.

Note return to page 4 [4] 4 there was none such in the army of any Sort.] Not meaning there was none such of any order or degree whatever, but that there was none such of any quality above the common.

Note return to page 5 *wit enough to keep himself warm,] But how would that make a difference between him and his horse? We should read, Wit enough to keep himself from harm. This suits the satirical turn of her speech, in the character she would give of Benedick; and this would make the difference spoken of. For 'tis the nature of horses, when wounded, to run upon the point of the weapon.

Note return to page 6 [5] 5 he wears his faith] Not religious Profession, but Profession of friendship; for the speaker gives it as the reason of her asking, who was now his Companion? that he had every month a new sworn brother.

Note return to page 7 [7] 7 sigh away Sundays:] A proverbial expression to signify that a man has no rest at all; when Sunday, a day formerly of ease and diversion, was passed so uncomfortably.

Note return to page 8 [8] 8 but in the force of his will] Alluding to the definition of a Heretick in the Schools.

Note return to page 9 [9] 9 Adam Bell, at that time famous for Archery. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 10 [1] 1 if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver in Venice,] All modern Writers agree in representing Venice in the same light, that the Ancients did Cyprus. And 'tis this Character of the People that is here alluded to. The Sieur de St. Disdier speaking of their Courtisanes says, Je suis certain que rien ne peut egaler ce qui se voit à Venice, tant pour la multitude, que pour la pleine libertè—Il y a deux cent cinquante quatre ans que Venice se trouvant sans Courtisanes, la Republique fut obligée d'en faire venir un grand nombre d' Estrangeres. La Doglioni loüe extremement en cela la sagesse de la Rep. laquelle, par ce moyen sceut pourvoir à la seureté des femmes d'honneur, ausquelles on faisoit tous les jours des violences publiques; puisque les lieux les plus saints n'estoient point un asile assuré. C'est pourquoy comme la Rep. croit que Pair salé qu'on respire dans ce climat rend le disordre habituel & sans remede, elle jugea, &c. Mr. Bayle, speaking of the dissolute manners of the Venetian Ecclesiasticks, says, Je me souviens d'avoir demandé un jour à un Homme, qui me contoit mille & mille Dereglemens des Ecclesiastiques de Venice, comment il se pouvoit faire que le Senat souffroit.—On me fit reponse que le bien public obligeoit le Souverain à user de cette Indulgence: & pour m'expliquer cette Enigme, on ajouta que le Senat etoit bien aise que le Peuple eut le dernier mepris pour les Prêtres; car des lors ils sont moins capables de le faire soulever. Thus, when natural temperament, the Policy of the Republic, and the Example of Churchmen, all concur to soment this disorder, it is no wonder it should rise higher here than in any other place.

Note return to page 11 [2] 2 The fairest grant is the necessity;] i. e. no one can have a better reason for granting a request than the necessity of its being granted.

Note return to page 12 [3] 3 Well then, &c. &lblank;] All this impious nonsense thrown to the bottom is the players, and foisted in without rhyme or reason. Leon. Well then, go you into hell, &lblank; Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with his horns on his head, and say, “get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heav'n, here's no place for you maids.” So deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter, for the heav'ns; he shews me where the batchelors fit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Note return to page 13 [a] (a) Jove, Mr. Theobald—Vulg. Love.

Note return to page 14 [4] 4 &lblank; his gift is in devising IMPOSSIBLE slanders:] We should read Impassible, i. e. slanders so ill invented that they will pass upon no body.

Note return to page 15 [5] 5 &lblank; his villany;] by which, she means his malice and impiety. By his impious jests, she insinuates he pleased libertines; and by his devising slanders of them, he angered them.

Note return to page 16 [a] (a) &lblank; your own tongues! Oxf. Edit.—Vulg. their own tongues.

Note return to page 17 [6] 6 &lblank; faith melteth into blood.] i. e. These intemperate desires make men treacherous; but the expression alludes to the old opinion of superstition concerning witches; that they turned wholesome liquors into blood by their charms.

Note return to page 18 [7] 7 such IMPOSSIBLE conveyance] We should read Impassable. A term taken from fencing, when the strokes are so swift and repeated as not to be parried or passed off.

Note return to page 19 [8] 8 she would infect the North-Star;] i. e. There is nothing of so pure and keen a brightness, that her calumnious tongue would not sully.

Note return to page 20 [9] 9 the infernal Até in good apparel] This is a pleasant allusion to the custom of ancient poets and painters, who represent the furies in raggs.

Note return to page 21 [1] 1 she hath often dream'd of unhappiness,] So all the editions; but Mr. Theobald's alters it to, an happiness, having no conception that unhappiness meant any thing but misfortune, and that he thinks she could not laugh at. He had never heard that it signified a wild, wanton, unlucky trick. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher in their comedy of the Maid of the Mill. &lblank; My dreams are like my thoughts honest and innocent: Yours are unhappy.

Note return to page 22 dele an.

Note return to page 23 [2] 2 These words added out of the editions of 1623. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 24 [3] 3 and her hair shall be of what colour it please God.] i. e. She shall not discolour it; hinting at the fashion of discolouring their hair, by art, when it was not of the colour in esteem.

Note return to page 25 [4] 4 We'll fit the kid-fox &lblank;] This is a new species of animals of the Editor's creation. We should read the bid fox, i. e. the fox who had hid himself.

Note return to page 26 [5] 5 but that she loves him with an inraged affection, it is past the Infinite of thought.] It is impossible to make Sense and Grammar of this speech. And the reason is, that the two beginnings of two different sentences are jumbled together and made one. For—but that she loves him with an inraged affection, —is only part of a sentence which should conclude thus,— is most certain. But a new idea striking the speaker, he leaves this sentence unfinished, and turns to another,—It is past the infinite of thought—which is likewise left unfinished; for it should conclude thus—to say how great that affection is. These broken disjointed sentences are usual in conversation. However there is one word wrong, which yet perplexes the sense, and that is Infinite. Human thought cannot sure be called infinite with any kind of figurative propriety. I suppose the true reading was Definite. This makes the passage intelligible. It is past the Definite of thought—i. e. it cannot be defined or conceived how great that affection is. Shakespear uses the word again in the same sense in Cymbeline. For Idiots, in this case of favour, would Be wisely Definite. —i. e. could tell how to pronounce or determine in the case.

Note return to page 27 [6] 6 O, she tore the Letter into a thousand half-pence;] i. e. into a thousand pieces of the same bigness. This is farther explain'd by a Passage in As you like it; &lblank; There were none principal; they were all like one another as half-pence are. In both places the Poet alludes to the old Silver Penny which had a Crease running Cross-wise over it, so that it might be broke into two or four equal pieces, half-pence, or farthings. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 28 [1] 1 Wild hawks. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 29 [2] 2 If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antick, Made a foul blot; &lblank;] The antick was a buffoon character in the old English farces, with a blacked face and a patch-work habit. What I would observe from hence is, that the name of antick or antique, given to this character, shews that the people had some traditional ideas of its being borrowed from the ancient mimes, who are thus described by Apuleius, mimi centunculo, fuligine faciem obducti.

Note return to page 30 [3] 3 If low, an Agat very vilely cut;] But why an agat, if low? For what likeness between a little man and an agat? The ancients, indeed, used this stone to cut upon; but very exquisitely. I make no question but the poet wrote; &lblank; an Aglet very vilely cut; An aglet was the tagg of those points, formerly so much in fashion. These taggs were either of gold, silver, or brass, according to the quality of the wearer; and were commonly in the shape of little images; or at least had a head cut at the extremity. The French call them aiguillettes. Mazeray, speaking of Henry IIId's sorrow for the death of the princess of Conti, says,—portant meme sur ses aiguillettes de petites tetes de Mort. And as a tall man is before compar'd to a Launce ill-headed; so, by the same figure, a little Man is very aptly liken'd to an Aglet ill cut.

Note return to page 31 [4] 4 What fire is in my ears? &lblank;] Alluding to a proverbial saying of the common people, that their ears burn when others are talking of them.

Note return to page 32 [5] 5 Edit. 1600. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 33 [6] 6 no need of such vanity:] Dogberry is only absurd, not absolutely out of his senses. We should read therefore, More need.

Note return to page 34 [7] 7 any villany should be so rich?] The sense absolutely requires us, to read villain.

Note return to page 35 [8] 8 thou art unconfirmed;] i. e. unpractised in the ways of the World.

Note return to page 36 [9] 9 sometimes, like the shaven Hercules, &c.] By the shaven Hercules is meant Samson, the usual subject of old tapestry. In this ridicule on the fashion, the poet has not unartfully given a stroke at the barbarous workmanship of the common Tapestry hangings, then so much in use. The same kind of raillery Cervantes has employed on the like occasion, when he brings his knight and squire to an inn, where they found the story of Dido and Æneas represented in bad tapestry. On Sanco's seeing the tears fall from the eyes of the forsaken queen as big as walnuts, he hopes that when their atchievements became the general subject for these sort of works, that fortune will send them a better artist.—What authorized the poet to give this name to Samson was the folly of certain christian mythologists, who pretend that the grecian Hercules was the jewish Samson. The retenue of our author is to be commended: The sober audience of that time would have been offended with the mention of a venerable name on so light an occasion. Shakespear is indeed sometimes licentious in these matters: But to do him justice, he generally seems to have a sense of religion, and to be under its influence. What Pedro says of Benedick, in this comedy, may be well enough applied to him. The man doth fear God, however it seems not to be in him by some large jests he will make.

Note return to page 37 [1] 1 turn'd Turk,] i. e. taken captive by Love, and turn'd a Renegado to his religion.

Note return to page 38 [2] 2 I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I.] There is much humour, and extreme good sense under the cover of this blundering expression. It is a sly insinuation that length of years, and the being much hacknied in the ways of men, as Shakespear expresses it, take off the gloss of virtue, and bring much defilement on the manners. For as a great Wit says, Youth is the season of Virtue: corruptions grow with years, and I believe the oldest Rogue in England is the greatest.

Note return to page 39 [1] 1 &lblank; I will write against it;] What? a libel? nonsense. We should read, I will rate against it, i. e. rail or revile.

Note return to page 40 [2] 2 most like a liberal villain,] We should read, like an illiberal villain.

Note return to page 41 [3] 3 &lblank; Griev'd I, I had but one? Chid I for That at frugal nature's frame? I've one too much by thee. &lblank;] The meaning of the second line according to the present reading, is this, Chid I at frugal nature that she sent me a girl and not a boy? But this is not what he chid nature for; if he himself may be believed, it was because she had given him but one: and in that he owns he did foolishly, for he now finds he had one too much. He called her frugal, therefore, in giving him but one child. (For to call her so because she chose to send a girl, rather than a boy, would be ridiculous) So that we must certainly read, Chid I for this at frugal nature's 'fraine, i. e. refraine, or keeping back her further favours, stopping her hand, as we say, when she had given him one. But the Oxford Editor has, in his usual way, improved this amendment, by substituting hand for 'fraine.

Note return to page 42 [4] 4 But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, and mine that I was proud on &lblank;] The sense requires that we should read, as in these three places. The reasoning of the speaker stands thus,—Had this been my adopted child, this shame would not have rebounded on me. But this child was mine, as mine I loved her, praised her, was proud of her: consequently, as I claimed the glory I must needs be subjected to the shame, &c.

Note return to page 43 [5] 5 Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?] The friar had just before boasted his great skill in fishing out the truth. And indeed, he appears, by this question, to be no fool. He was by, all the while at the accusation, and heard no names mentioned. Why then should he ask her what man she was accused of? But in this lay the subtilty of his examination. For had Hero been guilty, it was very probable that, in that hurry and confusion of spirits, into which the terrible insult of her lover had thrown her, she would never have observed that the man's name was not mentioned; and so, on this question, have betrayed herself by naming the person she was conscious of an affair with. The friar observed this, and so concluded, that were she guilty she would probably fall into the trap he laid for her.—I only take notice of this to shew how admirably well Shakespear knew how to sustain his characters.

Note return to page 44 [6] 6 SCENE III.] The poet, in my opinion, has shewn a great deal of address in this scene. Beatrice here engages her lover to revenge the injury done her cousin Hero: And without this very natural incident, considering the character of Beatrice, and that the story of her Passion for Benedick was all a fable, she could never have been easily or naturally brought to confess she loved him, notwithstanding all the foregoing preparation. And yet, on this confession, in this very place; depended the whole success of the plot upon her and Benedick. For had she not owned her love here, they must have soon found out the trick, and then the design of bringing them together had been defeated; and she would never have owned a passion she had been only tricked into, had not her desire of revenging her cousin's wrong made her drop her capricious humour at once.

Note return to page 45 [7] 7 Sexton. Let them be in the hands of Coxcomb.] So the Editions. Mr. Theobald gives the words to Conrade, and says, But why the Sexton should be so pert upon his Brother Officers, there seems no reason from any superior qualifications in him; or any suspicion he shews of knowing their ignorance. This is strange. The Sexton throughout shews as good sense in their Examination as any Judge upon the bench could do. And as to his suspicion of their ignorance, he tells the Town-clerk That he goes not the way to examine. The meanness of his name hindered our Editor from seeing the Goodness of his Sense. But this Sexton was an Ecclesiastic of one of the inferior Orders called the Sacristan, and not a Brother Officer, as the Editor calls him. I suppose the book from whence the Poet took his subject was some old English novel translated from the Italian, where the word Sagristana was rendered Sexton. As in Fairfax's Godfrey of Boulogne; When Phœbus next unclos'd his wakeful eye, Up rose the Sexton of that place prophane. The passage then in question is to be read thus, Sexton. Let them be in hand. [Exit. Conr. Off, Coxcomb! Dogberry would have them pinion'd. The Sexton says, it was sufficient if they were kept in safe custody, and then goes out. When one of the watchmen comes up to bind them, Conrade says, Off, Coxcomb! as he says afterwards to the Constable, Away! you are an ass.—But the Editor adds, The old Quarto gave me the first umbrage for placing it to Conrade. What these words mean I don't know: But I suspect the old Quarto divides the passage as I have done.

Note return to page 46 [a] (a) And Sorrow waive;] Oxf. Editor.—Vulg. And sorrow wage.

Note return to page 47 [1] 1 However they have writ the style of Gods,] This alludes to the extravagant titles the Stoics gave their wise man. Sapiens ille cum Diis, ex pari, vivit. Senec. Ep. 59. Jupiter quo antecedit virum bonum? diutius bonus est. Sapiens nihilo se minoris æstimat.—Deus non vincit Sapientem felicitate. Ep. 73.

Note return to page 48 [2] 2 And made a pish at chance and sufferance.] Alludes to their famous Apathy.

Note return to page 49 [3] 3 Ant. He shall kill two of us, &c.] This Brother Anthony is the truest picture imaginable of human nature. He had assumed the Character of a Sage to comfort his Brother, o'erwhelm'd with grief for his only daughter's affront and dishonour; and had severely reproved him for not commanding his passion better on so trying an occasion. Yet, immediately after this, no sooner does he begin to suspect that his Age and Valour are slighted, but he falls into the most intemperate fit of rage himself: and all his Brother can do or say is not of power to pacify him. This is copying nature with a penetration and exactness of Judgment peculiar to Shakespear. As to the expression, too, of his passion, nothing can be more highly painted.

Note return to page 50 [4] 4 we will not wake your patience.] This conveys a sentiment that the speaker would by no means have implied, That the patience of the two Old men was not exercised, but asleep, which upbraids them for insensibility under their wrong. Shakespear must have wrote—We will not wrack, i. e. destroy your patience by tantalizing you.

Note return to page 51 [5] 5 Nay, then give him another staff; &c.] Allusion to Tilting. See note, As you like it. Act 3. Scene 10.

Note return to page 52 [6] 6 What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!] It was esteemed a mark of levity and want of becoming gravity, at that time, to go in the doublet and hose, and leave off the cloak, to which this well turn'd expression alludes. The thought is, that love makes a man as ridiculous, and exposes him as naked as being in the doublet and hose without a cloak.

Note return to page 53 [7] 7 he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name,] There could not be a pleasanter ridicule on the fashion, than the constable's descant on his own blunder. They heard the conspirators satyrize the fashion; Whom they took to be a man, sirnamed, Deformed. This the constable applies with exquisite humour to the courtiers, in a description of one of the most fantastical fashions of that time, the men's wearing rings in their ears, and indulging a favourite lock of hair which was brought before, and tied with ribbons, and called a Love-lock. Against this fashion William Prinn wrote his treatise, called, The unlovelyness of Love locks. To this fantastick mode Fletcher alludes in his Cupid's Revenge—This morning I brought him a new periwig with a lock at it—And yonder's a fellow come has bored a hole in his ear. And again in his Woman-hater—If I could endure an ear with a hole in it, or a platted lock, &c.

Note return to page 54 [8] 8 in the time of good neighbours;] i. e. When men were not envious, but every one gave another his due. The reply is extremely humourous.

Note return to page 55 [9] 9 Question? why, an hour, &c.] i. e. What a question's there, or what a foolish question do you ask. But the Oxford Editor not understanding this phrase, contracted into a single word, (of which we have many instances in English) has fairly struck it out.

Note return to page 56 [1] 1 And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Than this, for whom we render'd up this Woe:] Claudio could not know, without being a prophet, that this new-propos'd match should have any luckier event than that design'd with Hero. Certainly, therefore, this should be a wish in Claudio; and, to this end, the poet might have wrote, speed's; i. e. speed us: and so it becomes a prayer to Hymen. Dr. Thirlby.

Note return to page 57 [2] 2 I would not deny you, &c.] Mr. Theobald says, is not this mock-reasoning? She would not deny him, but that she yields upon great persuasion. In changing the Negative I make no doubt but I have retriev'd the poet's humour: and so changes not into yet. But is not this a Mock Critic? who could not see that the plain obvious sense of the common reading was this, I cannot find in my heart to deny you, but for all that I yield, after having stood out great persuasions to submission. He had said, I take thee for pity, she replies. I would not deny thee, i. e. I take thee for pity too: but as I live I am won to this compliance by importunity of friends. Mr. Theobald by altering not to yet makes it supposed, that he had been importunate, and that she had often denied; which was not the case.

Note return to page 58 [1] 1 Argosie, a ship from Argo. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 59 [2] 2 &lblank; Now by two-headed Janus,] Here Shakespear shews his knowledge in the antique. By two-headed Janus is meant those antique bifrontine heads, which generally represent a young and smiling face, together with an old and wrinkled one, being of Pan and Bacchus; of Saturn and Apollo, &c. These are not uncommon in collections of antiques; and in the books of the antiquaries, as Montfaucon, Spanheim, &c.

Note return to page 60 [3] 3 &lblank; peep through their eyes,] This gives us a very picturesque image of the countenance in laughing, when the eyes appear half shut.

Note return to page 61 [4] 4 &lblank; their teeth in way of smile,] Because such are apt enough to shew their teeth in anger.

Note return to page 62 [5] 5 Let me play the Fool; &lblank;] Alluding to the common comparison of human life to a stage play. So that he desires his may be the fool's or buffoon's part, which was a constant character in the old farces: From whence came the phrase, to play the Fool. Which always signifies the acting absurdly out of mere wantonness. But that, as we observed, is not the sense here.

Note return to page 63 [6] 6 With mirth, and laughter, let old wrinkles come;] Because they come easier, and are longer before they come than when brought by Care.

Note return to page 64 [7] 7 I'll end my exhortation after dinner.] The humour of this consists in its being an allusion to the practice of the puritan preachers of those times; who being generally very long and tedious, were often forced to put off that part of their sermon called the exhortation till after dinner.

Note return to page 65 [8] 8 &lblank; like a wilful youth,] This does not at all agree with what he just before promised, that, what follow'd, should be pure innocence. For wilfulness is not quite so pure. We should read witless, i. e. heedless; and this agrees exactly to that to which he compares his case, of a school-boy, who, for want of advised watch, lost his first arrow, and sent another after it with more attention. But wilful agrees not at all with it.

Note return to page 66 [9] 9 &lblank; in your knowledge &lblank;] i. e. Agreeable to your knowledge and care of my honour.

Note return to page 67 [1] 1 Thrift for thriving. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 68 [2] 2 Ay, that's a Colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse;] Mr. Theobald says, he can perceive neither humour nor reasoning in this reading, and therefore alters Colt to Dolt; but what ever humour or reasoning there is in the one there is in the other: for the signification is the same in both. Hen. IV. 1st part, Falstaff says, What a plague mean you to colt me thus? And Fletcher constantly uses Colt for Dolt.

Note return to page 69 [3] 3 he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian;] A Satire on the ignorance of the young English Travellers in our Author's time.

Note return to page 70 [4] 4 I think, the Frenchman became his surety,] Alluding to the constant assistance, or rather constant promises of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in their quarrels with the English. This Alliance is here humourously satirized.

Note return to page 71 [5] 5 O, what a goodly outside falshood hath!] But this is not true, that falshood hath always a goodly outside. Nor does this take in the force of the speaker's sentiment; who would observe that that falshood which quotes scripture for its purpose has a goodly outside. We should therefore read, O, what a goodly outside's falshood hath! i. e. his falshood, Shylock's

Note return to page 72 [9] 9 A breed of barren metal of his friend?] A breed that is interest money bred from the principal. By the epithet barren the author would instruct us in the argument on which the advocates against usury went, which is this, that money is a barren thing, and cannot like corn and cattle multiply it self. And to set off the absurdity of this kind of usury, he put breed and barren in opposition.

Note return to page 73 [7] 7 &lblank; left in the fearful guard, &c.] But surely fearful was the most trusty guard for a house-keeper in a populous city; where houses are not carried by storm like fortresses. For fear would keep them on their watch, which was all that was necessary for the owner's security. I suppose therefore Shakespear wrote fearless guard. i. e. Careless; and this, indeed, would expose his house to the only danger he had to apprehend in the day-time, which was clandestine pilfering. This reading is much confirmed by the character he gives this guard, of an unthrifty knave, and by what he says of him afterwards, that he was, &lblank; a huge feeder: Snail-slow in profit, but he sleeps by day More than the wild-cat &lblank;

Note return to page 74 [a] [(a) Page, Mr. Theobald—Vulg. rage.]

Note return to page 75 [1] 1 Turn up, on your right-hand, &c.] This arch and perplexed direction, to puzzle the enquirer, seems to imitate that of Syrus to Demea in the Brothers of Terence &lblank; ubi eas præterieris, Ad sinistram hac rectâ plateâ: ubi ad Dianæ veneris, Ito ad dextram: prius quam ad portam venias, &c.

Note return to page 76 [2] 2 my fill-horse] Nonsense. We should read, thill-horse, the horse which draws in the shafts or Thill of the carriage.

Note return to page 77 [3] 3 Thou speak'st it well;] I should choose to read, Thou split'st it well, i. e. dividest the two parts of the proverb between thy master and me.

Note return to page 78 [4] 4 fairer table,] The chiromantic term for the lines of the hand. So Ben Johnson in his Mask of Gipsies to the lady Elizabeth Hatton; Mistress of a fairer table, Hath not history nor fable.

Note return to page 79 [5] 5 which doth offer to swear upon a book, &c.] This nonsense seems to have taken its rise from the accident of a lost line in transcribing the play for the press; so that the passage, for the future, should be printed thus,—Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book I shall have good fortune. It is impossible to find, again, the lost line; but the lost sense is easy enough—if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth [promise good luck, I am mistaken. I durst almost] offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune.

Note return to page 80 [6] 6 in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed,] A cant phrase to signify the danger of marrying.—A certain French writer uses the same kind of figure, O mon Ami, j'aimerois mieux être tombée sur la pointe d'un Oreiller, & m' être rompu le Cou.—

Note return to page 81 [7] 7 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered,] Ut gratas inter mensas Symphonia discors, Et crassum unguentum, & Sardo cum melle papaver Offendunt; poterat duci quia Cœna fine istis.Hor.

Note return to page 82 [8] 8 O, ten times faster Venus' Pidgeons fly] This is a very odd image, of Venus's Pidgeons flying to seal the bonds of Love. The sense is obvious, and we know the dignity due to Venus's Pidgeons. There was certainly a joke intended here, which the ignorance or boldness of the first transcribers have murder'd: I doubt not, but Shakespear wrote the line thus: O, ten times faster Venus' Widgeons fly To seal, &c. For Widgeon is not only one species of Pidgeons, but signified likewise, metaphorically, a silly fellow, as Goose, or Gudgeon, does now. The joke consists in the ambiguity of the signification. And the calling love's votaries, Venus's Widgeons, is in high humour. Butler uses the same joke in speaking of the presbyterians. Th' apostles of this fierce religion, Like Mahomet's, were ass and Widgeon. Mahomet's ass or rather mule was famous: and the monks in their fabulous accounts of him said, he taught a pidgeon to pick peas out of his ears to carry on the ends of his imposture.

Note return to page 83 [9] 9 &lblank; embraced heaviness] This unmeaning epithet would make me choose rather to read, enraced heaviness, from the French enraciner, accrescere, inveterascere. So in Much ado about nothing, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. And again in Othello With one of an ingraft infirmity.

Note return to page 84 [1] 1 &lblank; how much honour Pickt from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnish'd?] This confusion and mixture of the metaphors, makes me think that Shakespear wrote, To be new vanned. &lblank; i. e. winnow'd, purged: from the French word, vanner; which is derived from the Latin Vannus, ventilabrum, the fann used for winnowing the chaff from the corn. This alteration restores the metaphor to its integrity: and our poet frequently uses the same thought. So in the 2d part of Henry IV. We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind, That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff.

Note return to page 85 [1] 1 lest the devil cross my prayer.] But the prayer was Salanio's. We therefore must read—thy prayer.

Note return to page 86 [2] 2 A bankrupt, a prodigal.] This is spoke of Antonio. But why a prodigal? his friend Bassanio indeed had been too liberal; and with this name the Jew honours him when he is going to sup with him. &lblank; I'll go in hate to feed upon   The prodigal christian &lblank; But Antonio was a plain, reserved, parsimonious merchant, be assured therefore we should read,—A bankrupt for a prodigal, i. e. he is become bankrupt by supplying the extravagancies of his friend Bassanio.

Note return to page 87 [3] 3 heal'd by the same means,] I should believe, that Shakespear wrote medicines.

Note return to page 88 [4] 4 Let fortune go to hell for it. not I.] This line is very obscure. The form of the expression alludes to what she had said of being forsworn. After some struggle, she resolves to keep her oath: And then says, Let fortune go to hell for it. For what! not for telling or favouring Bassanio, which was the temptation she then lay under: for fortune had taken no oath. And, surely, for the more [Subnote: for more read mere.] favouring a man of merit, fortune did not deserve (considering how rarely she transgresses this way) so severe a sentence. Much less could the speaker, who favour'd Bassanio, think so. The meaning then must be, Let fortune rather go to hell for not favouring Bassanio, than I for favouring him. So loosely does our author sometimes use his pronouns.—not I does not signify, Let not I go to hell; for then it shou'd be Let not me. But it is a distinct sentence of itself. And is a very common proverbial speech, signifying, I will have nothing to do with it. Which if the Oxford Editor had considered, he might have spared his pains in changing I into me.

Note return to page 89 for his read is.

Note return to page 90 [5] 5 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;] Bassanio is displeas'd at the golden casket for its gawdiness, and the silver one for its paleness; but, what! is he charm'd with the leaden one for having the very same quality that displeas'd him in the silver? The poet certainly wrote, Thy Plainness moves me more than eloquence: This characterizes the lead from the silver, which paleness does not, they being both pale. Besides, there is a beauty in the antithesis between plainness and eloquence; between paleness and eloquence none. So it is said before of the leaden-casket, This third dull lead, with warning all as blunt.

Note return to page 91 [6] 6 Is sum of something, &lblank;] We should read, some of something, i. e. only a piece or part only of an imperfect account. Which she explains in the following line.

Note return to page 92 [7] 7 A comma here set exactly right, by Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 93 [8] 8 The best condition'd and unweary'd spirit In doing courtesies; &lblank;] To be read and pointed thus, The best condition'd: an unweary'd spirit.

Note return to page 94 [9] 9 The Duke cannot deny, &c. &lblank;] As the reason here given seems a little perplexed, it may be proper to explain it. If, says he, the Duke stop the course of law it will be attended with this inconvenience, that stranger merchants, by whom the wealth and power of this city is supported, will cry out of injustice. For the known stated law being their guide and security, they will never bear to have the current of it stoped on any pretence of equity whatsoever.

Note return to page 95 [1] 1 Of lineaments, of manners, &c. &lblank;] The wrong pointing has made this fine sentiment nonsense. As implying that friendship could not only make a similitude of manners, but of faces. The true sense is, lineaments of manners, i. e. form of the manners, which, says the speaker, must need be proportionate.

Note return to page 96 [a] [(a) Hear. Dr. Thirlby,—Vulg. here.

Note return to page 97 [2] 2 I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased To wish it back on you: &lblank;] I should rather think Shakespear wrote, &lblank; And am well 'pris'd, from the French appris, taught, instructed, i. e. you teach me, in the politeness of your good wishes, what I ought to wish you.

Note return to page 98 [3] 3 Thus when you shun Scylla, &c.] By this allusion (says Mr. Theobald) it is evident Shakespear was not stranger to the Hexameter, nor the application of it, Incidit in Scyllam cupiens vitare Charybdim. But is it not strange that our critic, an Englishman, should know this was a Latin proverb, and yet not know that it was become an English one likewise?

Note return to page 99 [1] 1 Enough to press a royal merchant down;] We are not to imagine the word royal to be only a ranting sounding Epithet. It is used with great propriety, and shews the Poet well acquainted with the history of the People whom he here brings upon the stage. For when the French and Venetians, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, had won Constantinople; the French, under the emperor Henry, endeavoured to extend their conquests into the provinces of the Grecian empire on the Terra firma; while the Venetians, who were masters of the sea, gave liberty to any subject of the Republic, who would fit out vessels, to make themselves masters of the isles of the Archipelago, and other maritime places; and to enjoy their conquests in sovereignty; only doing homage to the Republic for their several principalities. By virtue of this licence, the Sanudo's, the Justiniani, the Grimaldi, the Summaripo's, and others, all Venetian merchants, erected principalities in several places of the Archipelago, (which their descendants enjoyed for many generations) and thereby became truly and properly royal merchants. Which indeed was the title generally given them all over Europe. Hence, the most eminent of our own merchants (while public spirit resided amongst them, and before it was aped by faction) were called royal merchants.

Note return to page 100 [2] 2 &lblank; I'll not answer that, But say, it is my humour. &lblank;] This Jew is the strangest Fellow. He is asked a question; says he will not answer it; in the very next line says, he has answered it, and then spends the 19 following lines to justify and explain his answer. Who can doubt then, but we should read &lblank; I'll now answer that, By saying 'tis my humour &lblank;.

Note return to page 101 [3] 3 Masterless passion sways it to the mood] The two old Quarto's and Folio read, Masters of passion. And this is certainly right. He is speaking of the power of sound over the human affections, and concludes, very naturally, that the masters of passion (for so he finely calls the musicians) sway the passions or affections as they please. Alluding to what the ancients tell us of the feats that Timotheus and other musicians worked by the power of music. Can any thing be more natural!

Note return to page 102 [4] 4 Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; &lblank;] This incident Shakespear seems to have taken from J. C. Scaliger's Exot. Exercit. against Cardan. A book that our author was well read in, and much indebted to for a great deal of his physics: it being then much in vogue, and indeed is excellent, tho' now long since forgot. In his 344 Exercit. Sect. 6. he has these words, Narrabo nunc tibi jocosam Sympathiam Reguli Vasconis Equitis. Is dum viveret audito phormingis sono, urinam illico facere cogebatur.—And to make this jocular story still more ridiculous, Shakespear, I suppose, translated phorminx by bag-pipes. But what I would chiefly observe from hence is this, that as Scaliger uses the word Sympathiam which signifies, and so he interprets it, communem affectionem duabus rebus, so Shakespear translates it by affection; Cannot contain their urine for affection. Which shews the truth of the preceding emendation of the text according to the old copies; which have a full stop at affection, and read, Masters of passion.

Note return to page 103 [5] 5 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb.] i. e. why he hath robb'd her of her offspring. Which, the Oxford Editor not understanding, he hath alter'd the line thus, When you behold the ewe bleat for the lamb. i. e. when you hear.

Note return to page 104 [6] 6 Not on thy soale, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,] This lost jingle Mr. Theobald found again; but knew not what to make of it when he had it, as appears by his paraphrase, Tho' thou thinkest that thou art whetting thy knife on the soale of thy shoe, yet it is upon thy soul, thy immortal part. Absurd! the conceit is, that his soul was so hard that it had given an edge to his knife.

Note return to page 105 [7] 7 That malice bears down truth.] By truth is here meant the reasonable offers of accommodation which had been made.

Note return to page 106 [8] 8 The danger formerly by me rehears'd.] This danger was a judicial penalty, which the speaker had just before recited, in the very terms and formality of the law it self: we should therefore read formally.

Note return to page 107 for formerly read formally.

Note return to page 108 [9] 9 There's more depends on this, than on the value.] So the old Quarto reads, and it is right.

Note return to page 109 [1] 1 with patterns of bright gold.] We should read patens: a round broad plate of gold born in heraldry: the cover of the sacramental-cup.

Note return to page 110 [2] 2 Such harmony is in immortal souls;] But the harmony here described is that of the spheres, so much celebrated by the antients. He says, the smallest orb sings like an angel; and then subjoins, such harmony is in immortal souls: But the harmony of angels is not here meant, but of the orbs. Nor are we to think, that here the poet alludes to the notion, that each orb has its intelligence or angel to direct it; for then with no propriety could he say, the orb sung like an angel: he should rather have said, the angel in the orb sung. We must therefore correct the line thus; Such harmony is in immortal sounds: i. e. in the musick of the spheres.

Note return to page 111 [3] 3 The man that hath no musick in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,] The thought here is extremely fine: As if the being affected with musick was only the harmony between the internal [musick in himself] and the external musick [concord of sweet sounds;] which were mutually affected like unison strings. This whole speech could not chuse but please an English audience, whose great passion, as well then as now, was love of musick. Jam verò video naturam (says Erasmus in praise of Folly) ut singulis nationibus, ac pene civitatibus, communem quandam insevisse Philautiam: Atque hine fieri, ut Britanni præter alia, Formam, musicam, & lautas Mensas propriè sibi vindicene.

Note return to page 112 [4] 4 &lblank; you drop Manna in the way Of starved people.] Shakespear is not more exact in any thing, than in adapting his images with propriety to his speakers; of which he has here given an instance in making the young Jewess call good fortune, Manna.

Note return to page 113 [a] [(a) Feast Mr. Theobald—Vulg. fast]

Note return to page 114 [1] 1 Too much to know, is to know nought but fame; And every Godfather can give a name.&wrquo;] The first line in this reading is absurd and impertinent. There are two ways of setting it right. The first is to read it thus, Too much to know, is to know nought but shame; This makes a fine sense, and alludes to Adam's Fall, which came from the inordinate passion of knowing too much. The other way is to read, and point it thus, Too much to know, is to know nought: but feign, i. e. to feign. As much as to say, the affecting to know too much is the way to know nothing. The sense, in both these readings, is equally good: But with this difference; If we read the first way, the following line is impertinent; and to save the correction we must judge it spurious. If we read it the second way, then the following line compleats the sense. Consequently the correction of feign is to be preferred. To know too much (says the speaker) is to know nothing; it is only feigning to know what we do not: giving names for things without knowing their natures; which is false knowledge: And this was the peculiar defect of the Peripatetic Philosophy then in vogue. These philosophers, the poet, with the highest humour and good sense, calls the Godfathers of Nature, who could only give things a name, but had no manner of acquaintance with their essences.

Note return to page 115 [2] 2 A man of complements, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny.] As very bad a Play as this is, it was certainly Shakespear's, as appears by many fine master-strokes scattered up and down. An excessive complaisance is here admirably painted, in the person of one who was willing to make even right and wrong friends: and to persuade the one to recede from the accustomed stubbornness of her nature, and wink at the liberties of her opposite, rather than he would incur the imputation of ill-breeding in keeping up the quarrel. And as our author, and Johnson his contemporary, are, confessedly, the two greatest writers in the Drama that our nation could ever boast of, this may be no improper occasion to take notice of one material difference between Shakespear's worst plays, and the other's. Our author owed all to his prodigious natural genius; and Johnson most to his acquired parts and learning. This, if attended to, will explain the difference we speak of. Which is this, that, in Johnson's bad pieces, we do not discover the least traces of the author of the Fox and Alchemist; but, in the wildest and most extravagant notes of Shakespear, you every now and then encounter strains that recognize their divine composer. And the reason is this, that Johnson owing his chief excellence to art, by which he sometimes strain'd himself to an uncommon pitch, when he unbent himself, had nothing to support him; but fell below all likeness of himself: while Shakespear, indebted more largely to nature than the other to his acquired talents, could never, in his most negligent hours, so totally divest himself of his Genius but that it would frequently break out with amazing force and splendour.

Note return to page 116 [3] 3 In high-born words the worth of many a Knight From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate.] i. e. he shall relate to us the celebrated stories recorded in the old romances, and in their very stile. Why he says from tawny Spain is, because these romances being of Spanish original, the Heroes and the Scene were generally of that country. Why he says, lost in the world's debate is, because the subject of those romances were the crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. So that we see here is meaning in the words.

Note return to page 117 [a] (a) [Mr. Theobald, having.—Vulg. heaven.]

Note return to page 118 [4] 4 taken with the manner.] The following question arising from these words shews we should read—taken in the manner. And this was the phrase in use to signify, taken in the fact. So Dr. Donne in his letters, But if I melt into melancholy while I write, I shall be taken in the manner; and I sit by one, too tender to these impressions.

Note return to page 119 [a] [(a) but so, so.] A quibble restored by the Oxford Editor.— Vulg. but so.]

Note return to page 120 [5] 5 deserves.] added, rightly, by the Oxford Editor.

Note return to page 121 [a] [(a) On, Mr. Theobald—Vulg. One]

Note return to page 122 [1] 1 these are complements.] We should read, 'complishments, i. e. accomplishments.

Note return to page 123 [2] 2 Arm. But O, but O— Moth. The Hobby-horse is forgot.] In the celebration of May-day, besides the sports now us'd of hanging a pole with garlands, and dancing round it, formerly a boy was drest up representing Maid Marian; another, like a Fryar; and another rode on a Hobby-horse, with bells jingling, and painted streamers. After the reformation took place, and Precisians multiplied, these latter rites were look'd upon to savour of paganism; and then maid Marian, the fryar, and the poor Hobby-horse, were turn'd out of the games. Some who were not so wisely precise, but regretted the disuse of the Hobby-horse, no doubt, satiriz'd this suspicion of idolatry, and archly wrote the epitaph above alluded to. Now Moth, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out, But oh! but oh!—humourously pieces out his exclamation with the sequel of this epitaph. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 124 [3] 3 Like the sequel, I.] Sequele, in french, signifies a great man's train. The joke is that a single page was all his train.

Note return to page 125 [4] 4 my in-cony jew!] Incony or kony in the north signifies, fine, delicate—as a kony thing, a fine thing. It is plain therefore, we should read, my in-cony jewel.

Note return to page 126 [5] 5 No, I'll give you a remuneration: Why? It carries its remuneration. Why? It is a fairer name than a French crown.] Thus this passage has hitherto been writ, and pointed, without any regard to common sense, or meaning. The reform, that I have made, slight as it is, makes it both intelligible and humourous. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 127 [4] 4 Signior Junio's] By this is meant youth in general.

Note return to page 128 [5] 5 And I to be a corporal of his Field, And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!] This nonsense must be corrected thus, And I to be a corporal of his File, And wear his colours! like a tumbler, stoop! The corporal of a file is a military term. And so used elsewhere by Shakespear. All's well, &c. Great Mars! I put my self into thy file. And to stoop like a tumbler agrees with the servile condescensions of a lover. But when the transcribers once saw the tumbler, they thought his hoop could not be far behind.

Note return to page 129 [1] 1 When for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart.] The harmony of the measure, the easiness of the expression, and the good sense in the thought, all concur to recommend these two lines to the reader's notice.

Note return to page 130 [2] 2 &lblank; that my heart means no ill.] We should read, tho' my heart &lblank;

Note return to page 131 [3] 3 An' your waste, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One o' these maids girdles for your waste should be fit.] And was not one of her maid's girdles fit for her? It is plain that my and your have all the way changed places, by some accident or other; and that the lines should be read thus, An' my waste, mistress, was as slender as your wit, One of these maids girdles for my waste should be fit. The lines are humourous enough, both as reflecting on his own gross shape, and her slender wit.

Note return to page 132 [4] 4 &lblank; Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon.] i. e. open this letter. Our poet uses this metaphor, as the French do their Poulet; which signifies both a young fowl, and a love-letter. Poulet, amatoriæ litteræ; says Richelet. Mr. Bishop.

Note return to page 133 [5] 5 Thus dost thou hear, &c.] These six lines appear to be a quotation from some ridiculous poem of that time.

Note return to page 134 [6] 6 Enter &lblank; Holofernes,] There is very little personal reflexion in Shakespear. Either the virtue of those times, or the candour of our author, has so effected, that his satire is, for the most part, general, and as himself says, &lblank; his taxing like a wild goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. &lblank; The place before us seems to be an exception. For by Holofernes is designed a particular character, a pedant and schoolmaster of our author's time, one John Florio, a teacher of the Italian tongue in London, who has given us a small dictionary of that language under the title of A world of words, which in his Epistle Dedicatory he tells us, is of little less value than Stephens's treasure of the Greek tongue, the most compleat work that was ever yet compiled of its kind. In his preface, he calls those who had criticized his works Sea-dogs or Land-critics; Monsters of men, if not beasts rather than men; whose teeth are canibals, their toongs addars-forks, their lips aspes-poison, their eyes basiliskes, their breath the breath of a grave, their words like swordes of Turks that strive which shall dive deepest into a Christian lying bound before them. Well therefore might the mild Nathaniel desire Holofernes to abrogate scurrility. His profession too is the reason that Holofernes deals so much in Italian sentences. There is an edition of Love's Labour's lost, printed 1598, and said to be presented before her Highness this last Christmas 1597. The next year 1598, comes out our John Florio with his World of Words, recentibus odiis; and in the preface, quoted above, falls upon the comic poet for bringing him on the stage. There is another sort of leering curs, that rather snarle than bite, whereof I could instance in one, who lighting on a good sonnet of a gentleman's, a friend of mine, that loved better to be a poet than to be counted so, called the author a Rymer.—Let Aristophanes and his comedians make plaies, and scowre their mouths on Socrates; those very mouths they make to vilifie shall be the means to amplifie his virtue, &c. Here Shakespear is so plainly marked out as not to be mistaken. As to the sonnet of The Gentleman his friend, we may be assured it was no other than his own. And without doubt was parodied in the very sonnet beginning with The praisefull Princess, &c. in which our author makes Holophernes say, He will something affect the letter; for it argues facility. And how much John Florio thought this affectation argued facility, or quickness of wit, we see in this preface where he falls upon his enemy, H. S. His name is H. S. Do not take it for the Roman H. S. unless it be as H. S. is twice as much and an half, as half an AS. With a great deal more to the same purpose; concluding his preface in these words, The resolute John Florio. From the ferocity of this man's temper it was, that Shakespear chose for him the name which Rablais gives to his Pedant of Thubal Holoferne.

Note return to page 135 [7] 7 and such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be; which we taste, and feeling are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.] The Words have been ridiculously, and stupidly, transpos'd and corrupted. The emendation I have offer'd, I hope, restores the author: At least, it gives him sense and grammar: and answers extremely well to his metaphors taken from planting. Ingradare, with the Italians, signifies, to rise higher and higher; andare di grado in grado, to make a progression; and so at length come to fructify, as the poet expresses it.

Note return to page 136 [8] 8 Th' allusion holds in the exchange.] i. e. the riddle is as good when I use the name of Adam, as when you use the name of Cain.

Note return to page 137 [9] 9 Makes fifty sores, O sorel!] We should read, of sorel, alluding to L being the numeral for 50. Concerning the beasts of chase, whereof the Buck, being the first, is called as followeth; the first year a Fawn; the second year a Pricket; the third year, a Sorel; the fourth year a Sore; the fifth year, a buck of the first head, &c. Manhood of the Laws of the Forest, p. 44.

Note return to page 138 for O read of.

Note return to page 139 [a] [(a) Hol. Dr. Thirlby.—Vulg. Sir Nath.]

Note return to page 140 [1] 1 Fauste, precor gelida, &c.] A note of La Monnoye's on these very words in Les Contes des Periers, Nov. 42. will explain the humour of the quotation, and shew how well Shakespear has sustained the character of his pedant.—Il designe le Carme Baptiste Mantuan, dont au commencement du 16 siecle on lisoit publiquement à Paris les Poësies; si celebres alors, que, comme dit plaisamment Farnabe, dans sa preface sur Martial, les Pedans ne faisoient nulle difficulté de preferer à l' Arma virumque cano, le Fauste precor gelida, c'est-a-dire, à l' Eneide de Virgile les Eglogues de Mantuan, la premiere desquelles commence par Fauste precor gelida.

Note return to page 141 [2] 2 Let me supervise, &c.] The common editions give this speech to Nathaniel. Dr. Thirlby restores it rightly to Holofernes.

Note return to page 142 [3] 3 Ovidius Naso was the man.] Our author makes his pedant affect the being conversant in the best authors: Contrary to the practice of modern wits, who represent them as despisers of all such. But those who know the world, know the pedant to be the greatest affecter of politeness.

Note return to page 143 [a] [(a) imitari, Mr. Theobald.—Vulg. imitary.]

Note return to page 144 [4] 4 so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider.] The pedant here, to run down imitation, shews that it is a quality within the capacity of beasts: that the dog and the ape are taught to copy tricks by their master and keeper; and so is the tir'd horse by his rider. This last is a wonderful instance; but it happens not to be true. The author must have wrote—the tryed horse his rider: i. e. one, exercis'd, and broke to the manage: for he obeys every sign, and motion of the rein, or of his rider. So in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, the word is used in the sense of trained, exercised; And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world.

Note return to page 145 [a] [(a) slop. Mr. Theobald.—Vulg. shop.]

Note return to page 146 [a] [(a) but corporal, Mr. Theobald—Vulg. not corporal.

Note return to page 147 [5] 5 &lblank; my true love's fasting pain;] I should rather chuse to read festring, rankling.

Note return to page 148 [6] 6 How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?] We should certainly read, geap, i. e. jeer, ridicule.

Note return to page 149 [7] 7 &lblank; critic Timon &lblank;] ought evidently to be cynic.

Note return to page 150 [8] 8 With men like men, &lblank;] This is a strange senseless line, and should be read thus, With vane-like men, of strange inconstancy:

Note return to page 151 [9] 9 Is ebony like her? O word divine!] We should read, O wood divine.

Note return to page 152 [1] 1 &lblank; black is the badge of hell: The hue of dungeons, and the school of night;] We should read, the scowl of night, i. e. the frown.

Note return to page 153 [2] 2 And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.] This is a contention between two lovers about the preference of a black or white beauty. But, in this reading, he who is contending for the white, takes for granted the thing in dispute; by saying, that white is the crest of beauty. His adversary had just as much reason to call black so. The question debated between them being which was the crest of beauty, black or white. Shakespear could never write so absurdly: Nor has the Oxford Editor at all mended the matter by substituting dress for crest. We should read, And beauty's crete becomes the heavens well, i. e. beauty's white from creta. In this reading the third line is a proper antithesis to the first. I suppose the blunder of the transcriber arose from hence, the french word creste in that pronunciation and orthography is créte, which he understanding, and knowing nothing of the other signification of crete from creta, critically altered it to the English way of spelling, creste.

Note return to page 154 [3] 3 Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.] Quillet is the peculiar word applied to law-chicane. I imagine the original to be this, in the French pleadings, every several allegation in the plaintiff's charge, and every distinct plea in the defendant's answer, began with the words Qu'il est;—from whence was formed the word quillet, to signify a false charge or an evasive answer.

Note return to page 155 [4] 4 The nimble spirits in the arteries;] In the old system of physic they gave the same office to the arteries as is now given to the nerves; as appears from the name which is derived from &grasa;&gre;&grr;&gra; &grt;&grh;&grr;&gre;&gric;&grn;.

Note return to page 156 [5] 5 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?] This line is absolute nonsense. We should read duty, i. e. ethics, or the offices and devoirs that belong to man. A woman's eye, says he, teaches observance above all other things.

Note return to page 157 [6] 6 &lblank; In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers, &lblank;] Alluding to the discoveries in modern astronomy; at that time greatly improving, in which the ladies eyes are compared, as usual to stars. He calls them numbers, alluding to the Pythagorean principles of astronomy, which were founded on the laws of harmony. The Oxford editor, who was at a loss for the conceit, changes numbers to notions, and so loses both the sense and the gallantry of the allusion. He has better luck in the following line, and has rightly changed beauty's to beauteous.

Note return to page 158 [7] 7 &lblank; the suspicious head of theft is stopt.] i. e. a lover in pursuit of his mistress has his sense of hearing quicker than a thief (who suspects every sound he hears) in pursuit of his prey. But Mr. Theobald says, there is no contrast between a lover and a thief: and therefore alters it to thrift, between which and love, he says, there is a remarkable antithesis. What he means by contrast and antithesis, I confess I don't understand. But 'tis no matter: the common reading is sense; and that is better than either one or the other.

Note return to page 159 [8] 8 As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair:] This expression, like that other in The two Gentlemen of Verona, of—Orpheus' harp was strung with poets sinues, is extremely beautiful, and highly figurative. Apollo, as the sun, is represented with golden hair; so that a lute strung with his hair means no more than strung with gilded wire.

Note return to page 160 [9] 9 And when Love speaks the voice of all the Gods, Make, Heav'n drowsie with the harmony!] This nonsense we should read and point thus, And when love speaks the voice of all the Gods, Mark, heav'n drowsie with the harmony. i. e. in the voice of love alone is included the voice of all the Gods. Alluding to the ancient Theogony, that love was the parent and support of all the Gods. Hence, as Suidas tells us, Palcephatus wrote a poem called, &GRAs;&grf;&grr;&gro;&grd;&gria;&grt;&grh;&grst; &grk;&gra;&grig; &GREsa;&grr;&grw;&grt;&gro;&grst; &grf;&grw;&grn;&grhg; &grk;&gra;&grig; &grl;&groa;&grg;&gro;&grst;&grcolon; The voice and speech of Venus and Love, which appears to have been a kind of Cosmogony, the harmony of which is so great that it calms and allays all kind of disorders; alluding again to the ancient use of music, which was to compose monarchs, when, by reason of the cares of empire, they used to pass whole nights in restless inquietude.

Note return to page 161 [1] 1 &lblank; a word, that loves all men;] We should read, A word all women love. the following line Or for mens sake (the author of these women;) which refers to this reading, puts it out of all question.

Note return to page 162 [2] 2 &lblank; sown cockle reap'd no corn;] This proverbial expression intimates, that beginning with perjury, they can expect to reap nothing but falshood. The following lines lead us to this sense.

Note return to page 163 [1] 1 this is abominable, &c.] He has here well imitated the language of the most redoubtable pedants of that time. On such sort of occasions, Joseph Scaliger used to break out, Abominor, execror. Afinitas mera est, impietas, &c. and calls his adversary Lutum stercore maceratum, Dæmoniacum retrimentum inscitiæ, Sterquilinium, Stercus Diaboli, Scarabæum, larvam, Pecus postremum bestiarum, infame propudium, &grk;&graa;&grq;&gra;&grr;&grm;&gra;.

Note return to page 164 [2] 2 it insinuateth me of infamy:] There is no need to make the pedant worse than Shakespear made him; who, without doubt, wrote insanity.

Note return to page 165 [a] [(a) Insanie, Mr. Theobald—Vulg. infamy.]

Note return to page 166 [b] [(b) Bone? bone for benè; Priscian a little scratch'd. Mr. Theobald—Vulg. Bome boon, for boon. Priscian a little scratch.]

Note return to page 167 [3] 3 o, u.] A poor Conundrum, as Mr. Theobald truly calls it, restored, by him, to its place.—Vulg. out.

Note return to page 168 [a] [(a) &lblank; past Cure is still past Care. Dr. Thirlby.—Vulg. past Care is still past Cure.]

Note return to page 169 [4] 4 So Pertaunt-like would I o'er sway his state, That he should be my Fool, and I his Fate.] In old farces, to shew the inevitable approaches of death and destiny, the Fool of the farce is made to employ all his stratagems to avoid Death or Fate: Which very stratagems, as they are ordered, bring the Fool, at every turn, into the very jaws of Fate. To this Shakespear alludes again in Measure for Measure, &lblank; merely thou art Death's Fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet runs towards him still &lblank; It is plain from all this, that the nonsense of pertaunt-like should be read portent-like, i. e. I would be his fate or destiny, and like a portent hang over, and influence his fortunes. For portents were not only thought to forebode, but to influence. So the Latins called a person destined to bring mischief, fatale portentum.

Note return to page 170 [5] 5 Like Moscovites, or Russians, as I guess.] The settling commerce in Russia was, at that time, a matter that much ingrossed the concern and conversation of the publick. There had been several embassies employed thither on that occasion; and several tracts of the manners and state of that nation written: So that a mask of Muscovites was as good an entertainment to the audience of that time, as a coronation has been since.

Note return to page 171 [6] 6 Fair ladies, maskt, are roses in the bud; Dismaskt, their damask sweet commixture shewn, Are Angels veiling clouds, or roses blown.] This strange nonsense, made worse by the jumbling together and transposing the lines, I directed Mr. Theobald to read thus, Fair ladies masked are roses in the bud; Or Angels veil'd in clouds: are roses blown, Dismaskt, their damask sweet commixture shewn. But he willing to shew how well he could improve a thought, would print it, &lblank; Or Angel-veiling Clouds, i. e. clouds which veil Angels: And by this means gave us, as the old proverb says, a cloud for a Juno. It was Shakespear's purpose to compare a fine lady to an angel; it was Mr. Theobald's chance to compare her to a cloud: And perhaps the ill-bred reader will say a lucky one. However I supposed the Poet could never be so nonsensical as to compare a masked lady to a cloud, though he might compare her mask to one. The Oxford Editor who had the advantage both of this emendation and criticism, is a great deal more subtile and refined, and says it should not be angels veil'd in clouds, but angels veiling clouds, i. e. capping the sun as they go by him, just as a man veils his bonnet.

Note return to page 172 *&lblank; Shapeless gear;] Shapeless, for uncouth, or what Shakespear elsewhere calls diffused.

Note return to page 173 [7] 7 This is the flower, that smiles on ev'ry one,] The broken disjointed metaphor is a fault in writing. But in order to pass a true judgment on this fault, it is still to be observed, that when a metaphor is grown so common as to desert, as it were, the figurative, and to be received into the common stile, then what may be affirmed of the thing represented, or the substance, may be affirmed of the thing representing, or the image. To illustrate this by the instance before us, a very complaisant, finical, over-gracious person, was so commonly called the flower, or as he elsewhere expresses it, the pink of courtesie, that in common talk, or in the lowest stile, this metaphor might be used without keeping up the image, but any thing affirmed of it as of an agnomen: hence it might be said, without offence, to smile, to flatter, &c. And the reason is this; in the more solemn, less-used metaphors, our mind is so turned upon the image which the metaphor conveys, that it expects, this image should be, for some little time, continued, by terms proper to keep it in view. And if, for want of these terms, the image be no sooner presented than dismissed, the mind suffers a kind of violence by being drawn off abruptly and unexpectedly from its contemplation. Hence it is that the broken, disjointed, and mix'd metaphor so much shocks us. But when it is once become worn and hacknied by common use, then even the very first mention of it is not apt to excite in us the representative image; but brings immediately before us the idea of the thing represented. And then to endeavour to keep up and continue the borrow'd ideas, by right adapted terms, would have as ill an effect on the other hand: Because the mind is already gone off from the image to the substance. Grammarians would do well to consider what has been here said when they set upon amending Greek and Roman writings. For the much-used hacknied metaphors being now very imperfectly known, great care is required not to act in this case temerariously.

Note return to page 174 [8] 8 &lblank; behaviour, what wert thou, 'Till this man shew'd thee? and what art thou now?] These are two wonderfully fine lines, intimating that what courts call manners, and value themselves so much upon teaching, as a thing no where else to be learnt, is a modest silent accomplishment under the direction of nature and common sense, which does its office in promoting social life without being taken notice of. But that when it degenerates into shew and parade it becomes an unmanly contemptible quality.

Note return to page 175 [9] 9 The virtue of your eye must break my oath.] Common sense requires us to read, &lblank; made break my oath, i. e. made me. And then the reply is pertinent—It was the force of your beauty that made me break my oath, therefore you ought not to upbraid me with a crime which you yourself was the cause of.

Note return to page 176 [1] 1 &lblank; smiles his cheek in years, &lblank;] Mr. Theobald says, he cannot, for his heart, comprehend the sense of this phrase. It was not his heart but his head that stood in his way. In years, signifies, into wrinkles. So in The Merchant of Venice, With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. See the note on that line.—But the Oxford editor was in the same case, and so alters it to fleers.

Note return to page 177 [2] 2 &lblank; go, you are allow'd;] i. e. you may say what you will; you are a licensed fool, a common jester. So Twelfth Night. There is no slander in an allow'd fool.

Note return to page 178 [3] 3 With Libbard's head on knee.] This alludes to the old heroic habits, which on the knees and shoulders had usually, by way of ornament, the resemblance of a Leopard's or Lion's head.

Note return to page 179 [4] 4 it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linnen;] This may possibly allude to a story, well known in our author's time, to this Effect. A Spaniard at Rome falling in a duel, as he lay expiring, an intimate friend, by chance, came by, and offered him his best services. The dying man told him he had but one request to make to him, but conjured him by the memory of their past friendship punctually to comply with it, which was not to suffer him to be stript, but to bury him as he lay, in the habit he then had on. When this was promised, the Spaniard closed his eyes, and expired with great composure and resignation. But his friend's curiosity prevailing over his good faith, he had him stript, and found, to his great surprise, that he was without a shirt.

Note return to page 180 [5] 5 I have seen the days of wrong through the little hole of discretion,] This has no meaning, we should read, the day of right, i. e. I have foreseen that a day will come when I shall have justice done me, and therefore I prudently reserve myself for that time.

Note return to page 181 [a] [(a) nimble, Mr. Theobald—Vulg. humble.]

Note return to page 182 [5] 5 But more devout, than these are our respects Have we not been;] This nonsense should be read thus, But more devout than this, (save our respects) Have we not been; &lblank; i. e. save the respect we owe to your majesty's quality, your courtship we have laughed at, and made a jest of.

Note return to page 183 [6] 6 We did not coat them so.] We should read, quote, esteem, reckon.

Note return to page 184 [7] 7 To flatter up these powers of mine with rest;] We should read, fetter up, i. e. the turbulence of his passion, which hindered him from sleeping, while he was uncertain whether she would have him or not. So that he speaks to this purpose, If I would not do more than this to gain my wonted repose, may that repose end in my death.

Note return to page 185 [8] 8 And what to me, my love? &c. &lblank;] These six lines are misplaced and ought to be expung'd, as being the author's first draught only, of what he afterwards improved and made more perfect.

Note return to page 186 [9] 9 Do paint the meadows with delight;] This is a pretty rural song, in which the images are drawn with great force from nature. But this senseless expletive of painting with delight, I would read thus, Do paint the meadows much-bedight, i. e. much bedecked or adorned, as they are in spring-time. The epithet is proper, and the compound not inelegant.

Note return to page 187 [Place this at the end of Love's Labour lost, Vol. 2. page 288.]

Note return to page 188 11302001This child of fancy, that Armado hight, &c.] This, as I have shewn, in the note in its place, relates to the stories in the books of Chivalry. A few words therefore concerning their Origin and Nature may not be unacceptable to the reader. As I don't know of any writer who has given any tolerable account of this matter: and especially as Monsieur Huet, the Bishop of Avranches, who wrote a formal treatise of the Origin of Romances, has said little or nothing of these in that superficial work. For having brought down the account of romances to the later Greeks, and entered upon those composed by the barbarous western writers, which have now the name of Romances almost appropriated to them, he puts the change upon his reader, and, instead of giving us an account of these books of Chivalry, one of the most curious and interesting parts of the subject he promised to treat of, he contents himself with a long account of the poems of the Provincial Writers, called likewise Romances: and so, under the equivoque of a common term, drops his proper subject, and entertains us with another that had no relation to it more than in the name. The Spaniards were of all others the fondest of these fables, as suiting best their extravagant turn to galantry and bravery; which in time grew so excessive, as to need all the efficacy of Cervantes's incomparable satire to bring them back to their senses. The French suffered an easier cure from their Doctor Rabelais, who enough discredited the books of Chivalry, by only using the extravagant stories of its Giants, &c. as a cover for another kind of satire against the refined Politics of his countrymen; of which they were as much possessed as the Spaniards of their Romantic Bravery. A bravery our Shakespear makes their characteristic, in this description of a Spanish Gentleman: A Man of compliments, whom right and wrong Have chose as Umpire of their mutiny: This Child of fancy, that Armado hight, For interim to our studies, shall relate, In high-born words, the worth of many a Knight, From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. The sense of which is to this effect: This Gentleman, says the speaker, shall relate to us the celebrated Stories recorded in the old Romances, and in their very stile. Why he says, from tawny Spain, is because, these Romances being of Spanish Original, the Heroes and the Scene were generally of that country. He says, lost in the world's debate, because the subject of those Romances were the Crusades of the European Christians against the Saracens of Asia and Africa. Indeed, the wars of the Christians against the Pagans were the general subject of the Romances of Chivalry. They all seem to have had their groundwork in two fabulous monkish Historians: The one, who, under the name of Turpin Archbishop of Rheims, wrote the History and Atchievements of Charlemagne and his twelve Peers; to whom, instead of his father, they assigned the task of driving the Saracens out of France and the South parts of Spain: the other, our Geoffry of Monmouth. Two of those Peers, whom the old Romances have rendered most famous, were Oliver and Rowland. Hence Shakespear makes Alanson, in the first part of Henry VI. say, “Froysard, a countryman of ours, records, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, during the time Edward the Third did reign.” In the Spanish Romance of Bernardo del Carpio, and in that of Roncesvalles, the feats of Roland are recorded under the name of Roldan el encantador; and in that of Palmerin de Oliva, or simply Oliva, those of Oliver: for Oliva is the same in Spanish as Olivier is in French. The account of their exploits is in the highest degree monstrous and extravagant, as appears from the judgment passed upon them by the Priest in Don Quixote, when he delivers the Knight's library to the secular-arm of the house-keeper, “Exceptando à un Bernardo del Carpio que anda por ay, y à otro llamado Roncesvalles; que estos en llegando a mis manos, an de estar en las de la ama, y dellas en las del fuego sin remission alguna”1 [Subnote: 1 B. 1. c. 6.] And of Oliver he says; “essa Oliva se haga luego raxas, y se queme, que aun no queden della las cenizas.2 [Subnote: 2 Ibid.] ” The reasonableness of this sentence may be partly seen from one story in the Bernardo del Carpio, which tells us, that the cleft called Roldan, to be seen on the summit of an high mountain in the kingdom of Valencia, near the town of Alicant, was made with a single back-stroke of that hero's broad sword. Hence came the proverbial expression of our plain and sensible Ancestors, who were much cooler readers of these extravagances than the Spaniards, of giving one a Rowland for his Oliver, that is, of matching one impossible lye with another: as, in French, faire le Roland means, to swagger. This driving the Saracens out of France and Spain, was, as we say, the subject of the elder Romances. And the first that was printed in Spain was the famous Amadis de Gaula, of which the Inquisitor Priest says; “segun he oydo dezir, este libro fuè el primero de Cavallerias que se imprimiò en Espa&nbar;a y todos los demás an tomado principio y origen deste;”3 [Subnote: 3 Ibid.] and for which he humourously condemns it to the fire, como à Dogmatizador de una secta tan mala. When this subject was well exhausted, the affairs of Europe afforded them another of the same nature. For after that the western parts had pretty well cleared themselves of these inhospitable Guests; by the excitements of the Popes, they carried their arms against them into Greece and Asia, to support the Byzantine empire, and recover the holy Sepulchre. This gave birth to a new tribe of Romances, which we may call of the second race or class. And as Amadis de Gaula was at the head of the first, so, correspondently to the subject, Amadis de Grecia was at the head of the latter. Hence it is, we find, that Trebizonde is as celebrated in these Romances as Roncesvalles is in the other. It may be worth observing, that the two famous Italian epic poets, Ariosto and Tasso, have borrowed, from each of these classes of old Romances, the scenes and subjects of their several stories: Ariosto choosing the first, the Saracens in France and Spain; and Tasso, the latter, the Crusade against them in Asia: Ariosto's hero being Orlando or the French Roland: for as the Spaniards, by one way of transposing the letters, had made it Roldan, so the Italians, by another, made it Orland. The main subject of these fooleries, as we have said, had its original in Turpin's famous history of Charlemagne and his twelve peers. Nor were the monstrous embellishments of enchantments, &c. the invention of the Romancers, but formed upon eastern tales, brought thence by travellers from their crusades and pilgrimages; which indeed have a cast peculiar to the wild imaginations of the eastern people. We have a proof of this in the travels of Sir J. Maundevile, whose excessive superstition and credulity, together with an impudent monkish addition to his genuine work, have made his veracity thought much worse of than it deserved. This voyager, speaking of the isle of Cos, in the Archipelago, tells the following story of an enchanted dragon. “And also a zonge Man, that wiste not of the Dragoun, went out of a Schipp, and went thorghe the Isle, till that he came to the Castelle, and cam into the Cave; and went so longe till that he fond a Chambre, and there he saughe a Damyselle, that kembed hire Hede, and lokede in a Myrour: and sche hadde meche Tresoure abouten hire: and he trowed that sche hadde ben a comoun Woman, that dwelled there to resceyve Men to Folye. And he abode, till the Damyselle, saughe the schadewe of him in the Myrour. And sche turned hire toward him, and asked him what he wolde. And he seyde, he wolde ben hire Limman or Paramour. And sche asked him, if that he were a Knyghte. And he sayde, nay. And then sche seyde, that he myghte not ben hire Limman. But sche bad him gon azen unto his Felowes, and make him Knighte, and come azen upon the Morwe, and sche scholde come out of her Cave before him; and thanne come and kysse hire on the Mowthe and have no drede. For I schalle do the no maner harm, alle be it that thou see me in lykeness of a Dragoun. For thoughe thou see me hideouse and horrible to loken onne, I do the to wytene that it is made be Enchauntement. For withouten doute, I am none other than thou seest now, a Woman; and therefore drede the noughte. And zif thou kysse me, thou schalt have alle this Tresoure, and be my Lord, and Lord also of all that Isle. And he departed, &c.” p. 29, 30. Ed. 1725. Here we see the very spirit of a Romance-adventure. This honest traveller believed it all, and so, it seems, did the people of the isle. And some Men seyn (says he) that in the Isle of Lango is zit the Doughtre of Ypocras in forme and lykenesse of a gret Dragoun, that is an hundred Fadme in lengthe, as Men seyn: For I have not seen hire. And thei of the Isles callen hire, Lady of the Land. We are not to think then, these kind of stories, believed by pilgrims and travellers, would have less credit either with the writers or readers of Romances: which humour of the times therefore may well account for their birth and favourable reception in the world. The other monkish historian, who supplied the Romancers with materials, was our Geoffry of Monmouth. For it is not to be supposed, that these Children of Fancy (as Shakespear in the place quoted above finely calls them, insinuating that Fancy hath its infancy as well as manhood) should stop in the midst of so extraordinary a carrier, or confine themselves within the lists of the terra firma. From Him therefore the Spanish Romancers took the story of the British Arthur, and the Knights of his round-table, his wife Gueniver, and his conjurer Merlin. But still it was the same subject, (essential to books of Chivalry) the Wars of Christians against Infidels. And whether it was by blunder or design they changed the Saxons into Saracens. I suspect by design: For Chivalry without a Saracen was so very lame and imperfect a thing, that even that wooden Image, which turned round on an axis, and served the Knights to try their swords, and break their lances upon, was called, by the Italians and Spaniards, Saracino and Sarazino; so closely were these two ideas connected. In these old Romances there was much religious superstition mixed with their other extravagancies; as appears even from their very names and titles. The first Romance of Lancelot of the Lake and King Arthur and his Knights, is called the History of Saint Greaal. This St. Greaal was the famous relick of the holy blood pretended to be collected into a vessel by Joseph of Arimathea. So another is called Kyrie Eleïson of Montauban. For in those days Deuteronomy and Paralipomenon were supposed to be the names of holy men. And as they made Saints of their Knights-errant, so they made Knights-errant of their tutelary Saints; and each nation advanced its own into the order of Chivalry. Thus every thing in those times being either a Saint or a Devil, they never wanted for the marvellous. In the old Romance of Lancelot of the Lake, we have the doctrine and discipline of the Church as formally delivered as in Bellarmine himself. “La confession (says the preacher) ne vaut rien si le cœur n'est repentant; & si tu es moult & eloigné de l'amour de nostre Seigneur, tu ne peus estre raccordé si non par trois choses: premierement par la confession de bouche; secondement par une contrition de cœur, tiercement par peine de cœur, & par oeuvre d'aumône & charité. Telle est la droite voye d'aimer Dieu. Or va & si te confesse en cette maniere & recois la discipline des mains de tes confesseurs, car c'est le signe de merite.—Or mande le roy ses evesques, dont grande partie avoit en l'ost, & vinrent tous en sa chapelle. Le roy vint devant eux tout nud en pleurant, & tenant son plein point de menuës verges, si les jetta devant eux, & leur dit en soupirant, qu'ils prissent de luy vengeance, car je suis le plus vil pecheur, &c.—Apres prinst discipline & d'eux & moult doucement la receut.” Hence we find the divinity-lectures of Don Quixote and the penance of his Squire, are both of them in the ritual of Chivalry. Lastly, we find the Knight-errant, after much turmoil to himself, and disturbance to the world, frequently ended his course, like Charles V. of Spain, in a Monastery; or turn'd Hermit, and became a Saint in good earnest. And this again will let us into the spirit of those Dialogues between Sancho and his master, where it is gravely debated whether he should not turn Saint or Archbishop. There were several causes of this strange jumble of nonsense and religion. As first, the nature of the subject, which was a religious War or Crusade: 2dly, The quality of the first Writers, who were religious Men: And 3dly, The end in writing many of them, which was to carry on a religious purpose. We learn, that Clement V. interdicted Justs and Tourneaments, because he understood they had much hindered the Crusade decreed in the Council of Vienna. “Torneamenta ipsa & Hastiludia sive Juxtas in regnis Franciæ, Angliæ, & Almanniæ, & aliis nonnullis provinciis, in quibus ea consuevere frequentiùs exerceri, specialiter interdixit.” Extrav. de Torneamentis C. unic. temp. Ed. I. Religious men, I conceive, therefore, might think to forward the design of the Crusades by turning the fondness for Tilts and Torneaments into that channel. Hence we see the books of Knight-errantry so full of solemn Justs and Torneaments held at Trebizonde, Bizance, Tripoly, &c. Which wise project, I apprehend, it was Cervantes's intention to ridicule, where he makes his Knight propose it as the best means of subduing the Turk, to assemble all the Knights-errant together by Proclamation.4 [Subnote: 4 See Part 2. l. 5. c. 1.]

Note return to page 189 [1] 1 As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by Will, but a poor thousand crowns, &c.] The Grammar, as well as sense, suffers cruelly by this reading. There are two nominatives to the verb bequeathed, and not so much as one to the verb charged: and yet, to the nominative there wanted, [his blessing] refers. So that the whole sentence is confused and obscure. A very small alteration in the reading, and pointing sets all right.—As I remember, Adam, it was upon this my father bequeathed me, &c. The Grammar is now rectified, and the sense also; which is this, Orlando and Adam were discoursing together on the cause why the younger brother had but a thousand crowns left him. They agree upon it; and Orlando opens the scene in this manner, As I remember, it was upon this, i. e. for the reason we have been talking of, that my father left me but a thousand crowns; however, to make amends for this scanty provision, he charged my brother on his blessing to breed me well.

Note return to page 190 [2] 2 stays me here at home, unkept;] We should read stys, i. e. keeps me like a brute. The following words—for call you that keeping—that differs not from the stalling of an ox, confirm this emendation. So Caliban says, And here you sty me in this hard rock.

Note return to page 191 [3] 3 his countenance seems to take from me.] We should certainly read his discountenance.

Note return to page 192 [4] 4 be better employ'd, and be nought a while.] Mr. Theobald has here a very critical note; which, though his modesty suffered him to withdraw from his second edition, deserves to be perpetuated, i. e. (says he) be better employed, in my opinion, in being and doing nothing. Your idleness as you call it may be an exercise, by which you may make a figure, and endear your self to the world: and I had rather you were a contemptible Cypher. The poet seems to me to have that trite proverbial sentiment in his eye quoted, from Attilius, by the younger Pliny and others; satis est otiosum esse quàm nihil agere. But Oliver in the perverseness of his disposition would reverse the doctrine of the proverb. Does the Reader know what all this means? But 'tis no matter. I will assure him—be nought a while is only a north-country proverbial curse equivalent to, a mischief on you. So the old Poet Skelton, Correct first thy selfe, walke and be nought, Deeme what thou list, thou knowest not my thought. But what the Oxford Editor could not explain, he would amend, and reads, &lblank; and do aught a while.

Note return to page 193 [5] 5 albeit, I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.] This is sense indeed, and may be thus understood, —The reverence due to my father is, in some degree, derived to you, as the first-born—But I am persuaded that Orlando did not here mean to compliment his brother, or condemn himself; something of both which there is in that sense. I rather think he intended a satirical reflection on his brother, who by letting him feed with his hinds treated him as one not so nearly related to old Sir Robert as himself was. I imagine therefore Shakespear might write,—albeit your coming before me is nearer to his revenue, i. e. though you are no nearer in blood, yet it must be owned, indeed, you are nearer in estate.

Note return to page 194 [6] 6 for the Duke's daughter her cousin] read, the new Duke's

Note return to page 195 [7] 7 With bills on their necks: Be it known unto all men by these presents.] The ladies and the fool, according to the mode of wit at that time, are at a kind of cross purposes. Where the words of one speaker are wrested by another, in a repartee, to a different meaning. As where the Clown says just before—Nay, if I keep not my rank. Rosalind replies—thou losest thy old smell. So here when Rosalind had said, With bills on their necks, the Clown, to be quits with her, puts in, Know all men by these presents. She spoke of an instrument of war, and he turns it to an instrument of law of the same name, beginning with these words: So that they must be given to him.

Note return to page 196 [8] 8 Is there any else longs to see this broken musick in his sides?] A stupid error in the copies. They are talking here of some who had their ribs broke in wrestling: and the pleasantry of Rosalind's repartee must consist in the allusion she makes to composing in musick. It necessarily follows therefore, that the poet wrote—set this broken musick in his sides.

Note return to page 197 [9] 9 If you saw your self with your eyes, or knew your self with your judgment,] Absurd! The sense requires that we should read, our eyes, and our judgment. The argument is, Your spirits are too bold, and therefore your judgment deceives you; but did you see and know your self with our more impartial judgment you would forbear.

Note return to page 198 [1] 1 Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.] A Quintaine was a Post or Butt set up for several kinds of martial exercises, against which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. The allusion is beautiful. I am, says Orlando, only a quintaine, a lifeless block on which love only exercises his arms in jest; the great disparity of condition between Rosalind and me, not suffering me to hope that love will ever make a serious matter of it. The famous satirist Regnier, who lived about the time of our author, uses the same metaphor, on the same subject, tho' the thought be different. Et qui depuis dix ans, jusqu'en ses derniers jours, A soûtenu le prix en l' escrime d' amours; Lasse en fin de servir au peuple de quintaine, Elle &c. &lblank;

Note return to page 199 [2] 2 cry, hem, and have him.] A proverbial expression signifying, having for asking.

Note return to page 200 [3] 3 And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous,] This implies her to be some how remarkably defective in virtue; which was not the speaker's thought. The poet doubtless wrote, &lblank; and shine more virtuous. i. e. her virtues would appear more splendid, when the lustre of her cousin's was away.

Note return to page 201 [4] 4 Which teacheth thee &lblank;] The poet certainly wrote—which teacheth me. For if Rosalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, she could not lack that love which Celia complains she does.

Note return to page 202 [a] [(a) Here feel we but. Mr. Theobald— Vulg. Here feel we not.]

Note return to page 203 [1] 1 The bonny Priser &lblank;] We should read boney Priser. For this wrestler is characterised for his strength and bulk, not for his gayety or good-humour.

Note return to page 204 [2] 2 O Jupiter! how merry are my spirits?] And yet within the space of one intervening line, she says, she could find in her heart to disgrace her man's apparel, and cry like a woman. It should be,—how weary are my spirits? And the Clown's reply makes this reading certain.

Note return to page 205 [a] (a) Duc ad me, Oxford edition.—Vulg. Ducdame;

Note return to page 206 [3] 3 A motley fool; a miserable world!] What! because he met a motley fool, was it therefore a miserable world? This is sadly blundered; we should read, &lblank; a miserable varlet. His head is altogether running on this fool, both before and after these words, and here he calls him a miserable varlet, notwithstanding he railed on lady fortune in good terms, &c. Nor is the change we make so great as appears at first sight.

Note return to page 207 [4] 4 Seem senseless of the bob.] Both the measure and the sense direct us to read, Not to seem senseless &c.

Note return to page 208 [5] 5 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;] Secretum iter & fallentis semita vitæ. Hor.

Note return to page 209 [6] 6 Full of wise saws and modern instances,] It is remarkable that Shakespear uses modern in the double sense that the Greeks used &grk;&gra;&gria;&grn;&gro;&grst;, both for recens and absurdus.

Note return to page 210 [7] 7 &lblank; The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,] There is a greater beauty than appears at first sight in this image. He is here comparing human life to a stage play, of seven acts, (which was no unusual division before our author's time.) The sixth he calls the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, alluding to that general character in the Italian comedy, called Il Pantalóne; who is a thin emaciated old man in slippers; and well designed, in that epithet, because Pantalóne is the only character that acts in slippers.

Note return to page 211 [8] 8 Because thou art not seen,] This song is designed to suit the Duke's exiled condition, who had been ruined by ungrateful flatterers. Now the winter wind, the song says, is to be preferr'd to man's ingratitude. But why? Because it is not seen. But this was not only an aggravation of the injury, as it was done in secret, not seen, but was the very circumstance that made the keenness of the ingratitude of his faithless courtiers. Without doubt, Shakespear wrote the line thus, Because thou art not sheen, i. e. smiling, shining, like an ungrateful court-servant, who flatters while he wounds, which was a very good reason for giving the winter wind the preference. So in the Midsummer's Night's Dream, Spangled star light sheen, and several other places. Chaucer uses it in this sense, Your blisful suster Lucina the shene. And Fairfax, The sacred Angel took his Target shene, And by the Christian Champion stood unseen. The Oxford editor, who had this emendation communicated to him, takes occasion from thence to alter the whole line thus, Thou causest not that teen. But, in his rage of correction, he forgot to leave the reason, which is now wanting, Why the winter wind was to be preferred to man's ingratitude.

Note return to page 212 [1] 1 He that hath learned no wit by nature or art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of very dull kindred.] Common sense requires us to read, may complain of gross breeding. The Oxford editor has greatly improved this emendation by reading, —bad breeding.

Note return to page 213 [2] 2 Such a one is a natural philosopher.] The shepherd had said all the Philosophy he knew was the property of things, that rain wetted, fire burnt, &c. And the Clown's reply, in a satire on Physicks or Natural Philosophy, though introduced with a quibble, is extremely just. For the Natural Philosopher is indeed as ignorant (notwithstanding all his parade of knowledge) of the efficient cause of things as the Rustic. It appears, from a thousand instances, that our poet was well acquainted with the Physics of his time: and his great penetration enabled him to see this remediless defect of it.

Note return to page 214 [3] 3 Why, if thou never wast at Court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never, &c.] This reasoning is drawn up in imitation of Friar John's to Panurge in Rablais. Si tu es Coquu, ergo ta femme sera belle; ergo tu seras bien traité d'elle; ergo tu auras des Amis beaucoup; ergo tu seras sauvé. The last inference is pleasantly drawn from the popish doctrine of the intercession of Saints. And, I suppose, our jocular English proverb, concerning this matter, was founded in Friar John's logic.

Note return to page 215 [4] 4 make incision in thee,] To make incision was a proverbial expression then in vogue, to make to understand. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Humourous Lieutenant, &lblank; O excellent King, Thus he begins, thou life and light of creatures Angel-ey'd King, vouchsafe at length thy favour; And so proceeds to incision &lblank; i. e. to make him understand what he would be at.

Note return to page 216 [3] 3 Let the Forest judge.] We should read Forester, i. e. the shepherd who was there present.

Note return to page 217 [6] 6 O most gentle jupiter!] We should read juniper, as the following words shew, alluding to the proverbial term of a Juniper lecture: A sharp or unpleasing one; Juniper being a rough prickly plant.

Note return to page 218 [7] 7 Good my complexion!] This is a mode of expression, Mr. Theobald says, which he cannot reconcile to common sense. Like enough: and so too the Oxford Editor. But the meaning is, Hold good my complexion, i. e. let me not blush.

Note return to page 219 [8] 8 One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery.] This is stark nonsense; we must read—off discovery, i. e. from discovery. “If you delay me one inch of time longer, I shall think this secret as far from discovery as the South-sea is.”

Note return to page 220 [9] 9 I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.] We should read, Under an oak tree. This appears from what follows—like a dropp'd acorn. For how did he look like a dropp'd acorn unless he was found under an oak-tree. And from Rosalind's reply, that it might well be called Jove's tree: For the Oak was sacred to Jove.

Note return to page 221 [1] 1 But I answer you right painted cloth.] This alludes to the fashion, in old painted hangings, of motto's and moral sentences from the mouths of the figures. The poet again hints at these in his poem, call'd, Tarquin and Lucrece: Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw, Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 222 [2] 2 it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room;] Nothing was ever wrote in higher humour than this simile. A great reckoning, in a little room, implies that the entertainment was mean, and the bill extravagant. The poet here alluded to the French proverbial phrase of the quarter of hour of Rablais: who said, there was only one quarter of hour in human life passed ill, and that was between the calling for the reckoning and paying it. Yet the delicacy of our Oxford Editor would correct this into, It strikes a man more dead than a great reeking in a little room. This is amending with a vengeance. When men are joking together in a merry humour, all are disposed to laugh. One of the company says a good thing; the jest is not taken; all are silent, and he who said it, quite confounded. This is compared to a tavern jolitry interrupted by the coming in of a great reckoning. Had not Shakespear reason now in this case to apply his simile, to his own case, against his critical editor? Who, 'tis plain, taking the phrase to strike dead in a literal sense, concluded, from his knowledge in philosophy, that it could not be so effectually done by a reckoning as by a reeking.

Note return to page 223 [3] 3 O sweet Oliver, &c.] Some words of an old ballad.

Note return to page 224 [4] 4 as the touch of holy bread.] We should read beard, that is, as the kiss of an holy saint or hermit, called the kiss of charity: This makes the comparison just and decent; the other impious and absurd.

Note return to page 225 [a] [(a) cast. 1st Folio—Vulg. chast.

Note return to page 226 [5] 5 a nun of Winter's sisterhood] This is finely expressed. But Mr. Theobald says, the words give him no ideas. And tis certain, that words will never give men what nature has denied them. However, to mend the matter, he substitutes Winifred's sisterhood. And, after so happy a thought, it was to no purpose to tell him there was no religious order of that denomination. The plain truth is, Shakespear meant an unfruitful sisterhood, which had devoted itself to chastity. For as those who were of the sisterhood of the spring were the votaries of Venus; those of summer, the votaries of Ceres; those of autumn, of Pomona; so these of the sisterhood of winter were the votaries of Diana: Called, of winter, because that quarter is not, like the other three, productive of fruit or increase. On this account, it is, that, when the poet speaks, of what is most poor, he instances in winter, in these fine lines of Othello, But riches endless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. The other property of winter that made him term them of its sisterhood is its coldness. So in Midsummer Night's Dream, To be a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.

Note return to page 227 [6] 6 as concave as a cover'd goblet,] Why a cover'd? Because a goblet is never kept cover'd but when empty. Shakespear never throws out his expressions at random.

Note return to page 228 [7] 7 quite travers, athwart &c.] An unexperienced lover is here compared to a puny Tilter, to whom it was a disgrace to have his Lance broken across, as it was a mark either of want of Courage or Address. This happen'd when the horse flew on one side, in the carrier: And hence, I suppose, arose the jocular proverbial phrase of spurring the horse only on one side. Now as breaking the Lance against his Adversary's breast, in a direct line, was honourable, so the breaking it across against his breast was, for the reason above, dishonourable: Hence it is, that Sidney, in his Arcadia, speaking of the mock-combat of Clinias and Dametas says, The wind took such hold of his Staff that it crost quite over his breast &c.—And to break across was the usual phrase as appears from some wretched verses of the same Author speaking of an unskilful Tilter, Methought some Staves he mist: if so, not much amiss. For when he most did hit, he ever yet did miss. One said he brake across, full well it so might be &c. This is the allusion. So that Orlando, a young Gallant, affecting the fashion (for brave is here used, as in other places, for fashionable) is represented either unskilful in courtship, or timorous. The Lover's meeting or appointment corresponds to the Tilter's Carrier: And as the one breaks Staves, the other breaks Oaths. The business is only meeting fairly, and doing both with Address: And 'tis for the want of this, that Orlando is blamed.

Note return to page 229 [8] 8 &lblank; will you sterner be, Than He that dies and lives by bloody drops? This is spoken of the executioner. He lives indeed, by bloody Drops, if you will: but how does he die by bloody Drops? The poet must certainly have wrote—that deals and lives, &c. i. e. that gets his bread by, and makes a trade of cutting off heads: But the Oxford Editor makes it plainer. He reads, Than he that lives and thrives by bloody drops.

Note return to page 230 [9] 9 The power of fancy,] i. e. the arms of Love: As poets talk of the darts of Cupid in the Eyes of their Mistresses.

Note return to page 231 [1] 1 That you insult, exult, and all, at once] If the Speaker intended to accuse the person spoken to only for insulting and exsulting; then, instead of—all at once, it ought to have been, both at once. But by examining the crime of the person accused, we shall discover that the line is to be read thus, That you insult, exult, and rail, at once. For these three things Phebe was guilty of. But the Oxford Editor improves it, and, for rail at once, reads domineer.

Note return to page 232 [a] [(a) have beauty. Anonymus.—Vulg. have no beauty.

Note return to page 233 [2] 2 Of nature's sale-work:] i. e. those works that nature makes up carelesly and without exactness. The allusion is to the practice of Mechanicks, whose work bespoke is more elaborate, than that which is made up for chance-customers, or to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work.

Note return to page 234 [3] 3 That can entame my spirits to your worship.] I should rather think that Shakespear wrote entraine, draw, allure.

Note return to page 235 [4] 4 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer:] The only sense of this is, An ill-favoured person is most ill-favoured, when, if he be ill-favoured, he is a scoffer. Which is a deal too absurd to come from Shakespear; who, without question, wrote, Foul is most foul, being found to be a Scoffer: i. e. where an ill-favour'd person ridicules the defects of others, it makes his own appear excessive.

Note return to page 236 [a] [(a) Deed shepherd, Oxford Editor—Vulg. Dead shepherd.]

Note return to page 237 [1] 1 The foolish chroniclers] Perhaps Coroners. Anonymus.

Note return to page 238 [2] 2 and that when you are inclin'd to sleep.] We should read, to weep.

Note return to page 239 [3] 3 her fault her husband's occasion.] i. e. shew what she did was occasioned by her husband's ill conduct.

Note return to page 240 [4] 4 I will think you the most pathetical break-promise.] There is neither sense nor humour in this expression. We should certainly read,—atheistical break-promise. His answer confirms it, that he would keep his promise with no less Religion, than &lblank;

Note return to page 241 [5] 5 hurtling. skirmishing. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 242 [1] 1 The heathen philosopher, when he desired to eat a grape, &c.] This was designed as a snere on the several trifling and insignificant sayings and actions, recorded of the ancient philosophers, by the writers of their lives, such as Diogenes Laertius, Philostratus, Eunapius, &c. as appears from its being introduced by one of their wise sayings.

Note return to page 243 [2] 2 I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; &c.] All this seems to be an allusion to Sir Thomas Overbury's affair.

Note return to page 244 [3] 3 which I tender dearly, tho' I say, I am a magician:] Hence it appears this was written in James's time, when there was a severe inquisition after witches and magicians.

Note return to page 245 [a] [(a) untimeable. Mr. Theobald—Vulg. untuneable.

Note return to page 246 [4] 4 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.] This strange nonsense should be read thus, As those that fear their hap, and know their fear. i. e. As those who fear the issue of a thing when they know their fear to be well grounded.

Note return to page 247 [5] 5 Here come a pair of very strange beasts, &c.] What! strange beasts? and yet such as have a name in all languages? Noah's Ark is here alluded to; into which the clean beasts entered by sevens, and the unclean by two, male and female. It is plain then that Shakespear wrote, here come a pair of unclean beasts, which is highly humourous.

Note return to page 248 [6] 6 &lblank; I desire you of the like:] We should read, I desire of you the like. On the Duke's saying, I like him very well, he replies, I desire you will give me cause that I may like you too.

Note return to page 249 [7] 7 according as marriage binds, and blood breaks:] The construction is, to swear as marriage binds. Which I think is not English. I suspect Shakespear wrote it thus, to swear and to forswear, according as marriage bids, and blood bids break.

Note return to page 250 [8] 8 as thus, Sir; I did dislike the cut of a courtier's beard;] This folly is touched upon with high humour by Fletcher in his Queen of Corinth. &lblank; Has he familiarly Dislik'd your yellow starch, or said your doublet Was not exactly frenchified? &lblank; &lblank; or drawn your sword, Cry'd 'twas ill mounted? Has he given the lye In circle or oblique or semicircle Or direct parallel; you must challenge him.

Note return to page 251 [9] 9 O Sir, we quarrel in print, by the book;] The Poet has, in this scene, rallied the mode of formal dueling, then so prevalent, with the highest humour and address; nor could he have treated it with a happier contempt, than by making his Clown so knowing in the forms and preliminaries of it. The particular book here alluded to is a very ridiculous treatise of one Vincentio Saviolo, intitled, Of honour and honourable quarrels, in Quarto printed by Wolf, 1594. The first part of this tract he intitles, A discourse most necessary for all gentlemen that have in regard their honors, touching the giving and receiving the lye, whereupon the Duello and the Combat in divers forms doth ensue; and many other inconveniences, for lack only of true knowledge of honor, and the right understanding of words, which here is set down. The contents of the several chapters are as follow. I. What the reason is that the party unto whom the lye is given ought to become challenger, and of the nature of lies. II. Of the manner and diversity of lies. III. Of the lye certain, or direct. IV. Of conditional lies, or the lye circumstantial. V. Of the lye in general. VI. Of the lye in particular. VII. Of foolish lies. VIII. A conclusion touching the wresting or returning back of the lye, or the countercheck quarrelsome. In the chapter of conditional lies speaking of the particle if, he says—Conditional lies be such as are given conditionally thus—if thou hast said so or so, then thou liest. Of these kind of lies, given in this manner, often arise much contention, whereof no sure conclusion can arise. By which he means, they cannot proceed to cut one another's throats, while there is an if between. Which is the reason of Shakespear's making the Clown say, I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel: but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an if, as if you said so, then I said so, and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your if is the only peace-maker; much virtue in if. Caranza was another of these authentick Authors upon the Duello. Fletcher in his last Act of Love's Pilgrimage ridicules him with much humour.

Note return to page 252 [1] 1 I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women,—that between you and the women, &c.] This passage should be read thus, I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases them: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women,—to like as much as pleases them, that between you and the women, &c. Without the alteration of You into Them the invocation is nonsense; and without the addition of the words, to like as much as pleases them, the inference of, that between you and the women the play may pass, would be unsupported by any precedent premises. The words seem to have been struck out by some senseless Player, as a vicious redundancy.

Note return to page 253 [1] 1 paucus pallabris;] Meaning pocas palabras, Spanish, few words. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 254 [2] 2 Go by S. Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.] All the editions have coin'd a Saint here, for Sly to swear by. But the poet had no such intentions. There is a sustian old play, call'd, Hieronymo; Or, The Spanish Tragedy: which, I find, was the common butt of rallery to all the poets of Shakespear's time: and a passage, that appear'd very ridiculous in that play, is here humourously alluded to. Hieronymo, thinking himself injur'd, applies to the King for justice; but the courtiers, who did not desire his wrongs should be set in a true light, attempt to hinder him from an audience. Hiero. Justice, oh! justice to Hieronymo. Lor. Back;—seest thou not, the King is busie? Hiero. Oh, is he so? King. Who is He, that interrupts our Business? Hier. Not I:—Hieronymo, beware; go by, go by. So Sly here, not caring to be dun'd by the Hostess, cries to her in effect, Don't be troublesom, don't interrupt me, go by. Mr. Theobald.

Note return to page 255 [3] 3 I must go fetch the Headborough.] Vulg. A poor witticism (as Mr. Theobald rightly calls it) restored by him.

Note return to page 256 [a] [(a) Leech Merriman. Oxford Editor—Vulg. Brach Merriman.]

Note return to page 257 [4] 4 a little Vinegar to make our devil roar.] When the acting the mysteries of the old and new Testament was in vogue; at the representation of the mystery of the Passion, Judas and the Devil made a part. And the Devil, whereever he came, was always to suffer some disgrace, to make the people laugh: As here, the buffonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar. And the Passion being that, of all the mysteries, which was most frequently represented, vinegar became at length the standing implement to torment the Devil: And used for this purpose even after the mysteries ceased, and the moralities came in vogue; where the Devil continued to have a considerable part.— The mention of it here was to ridicule so absurd a circumstance in these old farces.

Note return to page 258 [a] [(a) To virtue. Oxford Editor—Vulg. virtue.]

Note return to page 259 [1] 1 &lblank; th' effect of Love in idleness:] i. e. the effect, or virtue of the Flower so called. See Midsummer Night's Dream.

Note return to page 260 [2] 2 If Love hath touch'd you, nought remains but so,] The next line from Terence, shews that we should read, If Love hath toyl'd you, &lblank; i. e. taken you in his toils, his nets. Alluding to the captus est, habet, of the same Author.

Note return to page 261 [3] 3 Where small experience grows but in a few.] This nonsense should be read thus, Where small experience grows but in a mew, i. e. a confinement at home. And the meaning is that no improvement is to be expected of those who never look out of doors. Fairfax says of Clarinda, Her lofty hand would of itself refuse To touch the dainty needle or nice thread, She hated chambers, closets, secret mews, And in broad fields preserv'd her maidenhead.

Note return to page 262 [4] 4 Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,] This I suppose relates to a circumstance in some Italian novel, and should be read, Florentio's.

Note return to page 263 [5] 5 Affection's edge in me.] This man is a strange talker. He tells you he wants money only. And, as to affection, he thinks so little of the matter, that give him but a rich mistress, and he will take her though incrusted all over with the worst bad qualities of age, ugliness and ill-manners. Yet, after this, he talks of Affection's edge being so strong in him that nothing can abate it. Some of the old copies indeed, instead of me read time: this will direct us to the true reading, which I am persuaded is this, Affection sieg'd in coin, i. e. placed, seated, fixed. This makes him speak to the purpose, that his affection is all love of money. The expression too is proper, as the metaphor is intire—to remove affection sieg'd in coin.

Note return to page 264 [6] 6 aglet, the tag of a point. Mr. Pope.

Note return to page 265 [7] 7 Here's no knavery!] See this phrase explain'd in the first part of Henry IV.

Note return to page 266 [8] 8 That gives not half so great a blow to hear,] This aukward phrase could never come from Shakespear. He wrote, without question, &lblank; so great a blow to th' ear.

Note return to page 267 [9] 9 Please ye, we may contrive this afternoon,] Mr. Theobald asks what they were to contrive? and then says, a foolish corruption possesses the place, and so alters it to convive; in which he is followed, as he pretty constantly is, when wrong, by the Oxford Editor. But the common reading is right, and the Critic was only ignorant of the meaning of it. Contrive does not signify here to project, but to spend and wear out. As in this passage of Spenser, Three ages such as mortal men contrive. Fairy Queen, Book xi. Chap. 9.

Note return to page 268 [a] [(a) Gawds. Mr. Theobald—Vulg. goods.]

Note return to page 269 [1] 1 Baccare, you are marvellous forward.] We must read, Baccalare; by which the Italians mean, thou arrogant, presumptuous man! the word is used scornfully, upon any one that would assume a port of grandeur.

Note return to page 270 [2] 2 I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curse your wooing neighbours. This is a gift] This nonsense may be rectified by only pointing it thus, I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curse your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift, &c. addressing himself to Baptista.

Note return to page 271 [3] 3 Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land! My land amounts not to so much in all: That she shall have, and &lblank;] Tho' all the copies concur in this reading, surely, if we examine the reasoning, something will be found wrong. Gremio is startled at the high settlement Tranio proposes; says, his whole estate in land can't match it, yet he'll settle so much a year upon her. &c. This is playing at cross-purposes. The change of the negative in the second line salves the absurdity, and sets the passage right. Gremio and Tranio are vyeing in their offers to carry Bianca: The latter boldly proposes to settle land to the amount of two thousand ducats per annum. My whole estate, says the other, in land, amounts but to that value; yet she shall have that: I'll endow her with the whole; and consign a rich vessel to her use, over and above. Thus all is intelligible, and he goes on to outbid his rival.

Note return to page 272 [4] 4 Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten:] That is, with the highest card, in the old simple games of our ancestors. So that this became a proverbial expression. So Skelton, Fyrste pycke a quarrel, and fall out with him then, And so outface him with a card of ten. And Ben Johnson in his Sad Shepherd, &lblank; a Hart of ten I trow he be, &lblank; i. e. an extraordinary good one.

Note return to page 273 [1] 1 Pedascule, &lblank;] he would have said Didascale, but thinking this too honourable, he coins the word Pedascale in imitation of it, from Pedant.

Note return to page 274 [2] 2 An old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prickt up in't for a feather:] This was some ballad or drollery of that time, which the poet here ridicules, by making Petruchio prick it up in his foot-boy's old hat for a feather. His speakers are perpetually quoting scraps and stanzas of old Ballads, and often very obscurely; for, so well are they adapted to the occasion, that they seem of a piece with the rest. In Shakespear's time, the kingdom was over-run with these doggrel compositions. And he seems to have born them a very particular grudge. He frequently ridicules both them and their makers with exquisite humour. In Much ado about nothing, he makes Benedict say, Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I get again with drinking, prick out my eyes with a ballad-maker's pen. As the bluntness of it would make the execution extremely painful. And again in Troilus and Cressida, Pandarus in his distress having repeated a very stupid stanza from an old ballad, says, with the highest humour, There never was a truer rhyme; let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse. li'e see it, we see it.

Note return to page 275 [3] 3 the oats have eaten the horses.] That is the distemper so called.

Note return to page 276 for here read her.

Note return to page 277 [1] 1 Gru. &lblank; winter tames man, woman and beast; for it hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistress, and my self, fellow Curtis. Curt. Away, you three-inch'd fool; I am no beast.] Why had Grumio called him one? to give his resentment any colour. We must read as, without question, Shakespear wrote, &lblank; and thy self, fellow Curtis. Why Grumio said that winter had tamed Curtis was for his slowness in shewing Grumio to a good fire. Besides, all the joke consists in the sense of this alteration.

Note return to page 278 [2] 2 Away you three-inch'd fool;] i. e. with a scull three inches thick, a phrase taken from the thicker sort of planks.

Note return to page 279 [3] 3 Why thy horn is a foot, and so long am I at least.] Tho' all the copies agree in this reading, Mr. Theobald says, yet he cannot find what horn Curtis had; therefore he alters it to my horn. But the common reading is right, and the meaning is that he had made Curtis a cuckold.

Note return to page 280 [4] 4 Jack boy, &c.] fragment of some old ballad.

Note return to page 281 [5] 5 Be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without?] i. e. Are the drinking vessels clean, and the maid-servants dress'd? But the Oxford Editor alters it thus, Are the Jacks fair without, the Jills fair within? What his conceit is in this, I confess I know not.

Note return to page 282 [a] [(a) Engle. Mr. Theobald.—Vulg. Angel.]

Note return to page 283 [5] 5 &lblank; Surely like a father.] I know not what he is, says the speaker, however this is certain, he has the gate and countenance of a fatherly man.

Note return to page 284 [6] 6 Why, Sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak, &c.] Shakespear has here copied nature with great skill. Petruchio, by frightening, starving and overwatching his wife, had tamed her into gentleness and submission. And the audience expects to hear no more of the Shrew: When on her being crossed, in the article of fashion and finery, the most inveterate folly of the sex, she flies out again, though for the last time, into all the intemperate rage of her nature.

Note return to page 285 [1] 1 &lblank; copped or pointed. Mr. Pope.

Previous section