Note return to page 1 Directions to the Binder. Shakspeare's House to face the title-page to Vol. I. The Head of Lord Southampton to front p. 401, Vol. I. When these Books are sewed and put in boards, it is desired that they may not be beaten; and it is recommended not to bind them till next winter.

Note return to page 2 [a] aThere are but thirty four plays (exclusive of mysteries, moralities, interludes, and translations) now extant, written antecedent to, or in the year 1592. Their titles are as follow: Acolastus 1540 Ferrex and Porrex 1561 Damon and Pythias 1562 Appius and Virginia 1575 Gammer Gurton's Needle 1575 Promos, and Cassandra 1578 Three Ladies of London 1578 Cambyses, no date, but probably written before 1580 Arraignment of Paris 1584 Sappho and Phaon 1584 Alexander and Campaspe 1584 Jeronimo 1588 Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronimo is mad again 1588 Tamburlaine 1588 Titus Andronicus 1589 King Henry V. in or before 1589 King John, in two parts 1591 Endymion 1591 Orlando Furioso before 1592 Alphonsus king of Arragon before 1592 James IV . king of Scotland before 1592 A Looking-Glass for London before 1592 Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay before 1592 Jew of Malta before 1592 Dr. Faustus before 1592 Edward II. before 1592 Lust's Dominion before 1592 Massacre of Paris before 1592 Dido before 1592 Soliman and Perseda 1592 Midas 1592 Galathea 1592 Tancred and Gismund 1592 Arden of Feversham 1592 Between the years 1592 and 1600, the following plays were printed or exhibited, some of which, probably, were written before our author commenced play-wright. Cleopatra 1593 Edward I. 1593 Battle of Alcazar 1594 Wounds of Civil War 1594 Selymus Emperor of the Turks 1594 Cornelia 1594 Mother Bombie 1594 The Cobler's Prophecy 1594 The Wars of Cyrus 1594 King Leir 1594 Taming of a Shrew 1594 Locrine 1595 Antonius 1595 Edward III. 1595 Woman in the Moon 1597 Mucedorus 1597 The virtuous Octavia 1598 Every Man in his Humour 1598 Pinner of Wakefield 1599 Warning for Fair Women 1599 David and Bethsabe 1599 Two angry Women of Abington 1599 The Cafe is altered 1599 Every Man out of his Humour 1599 9Q1270

Note return to page 3 [b] bThey are mentioned in an ancient Treatise against Idleness, vaine Plaies and Interludes, by John Northbrook, bl. l. no date, but written apparently about the year 1580. Stubbes, in his Anatomy of Abuses, p. 90, edit. 1583, inveighs against theatres and curtaines, which he calls Venus' Palaces. Edmund Howes, the continuator of Stowe's Chronicle, says, p. 1004, “That before the year 1570, he neither knew, heard, nor read of any such theatres, set stages, or play-houses, as have been purposely built within man's memory.”

Note return to page 4 [c] cBen Jonson's Bartholomew Fair was performed at this theatre in 1614. He does not give a very favourable description of it:—“Though the fair be not kept in the same region that some here perhaps would have it, yet think that the author hath therein observed a special decorum, the place being as dirty as Smithfield, and as stinking every whit.”—Induction to Barth. Fair.—The other theatres here alluded to, were probably the Red Bull, and the Fortune, which were both near Smithfield.

Note return to page 5 [d] dSee Wright's Historia Histrionica, 1699.

Note return to page 6 [e] eWright, in his Hist. Histrion. informs us, that the theatre in Black-friars, the Cockpit, and that in Salisbury Court, were exactly alike both in form and size. The smallness of the latter is ascertained by these lines in an epilogue to Tottenham Court, a comedy by Nabbes, which was acted there: “When others fill'd rooms with neglect disdain ye, “My little house with thanks shall entertain ye.” The theatre in Black-friars was situated somewhere near the present Apothecaries-Hall. There is still in that neighbourhood, Play-house Yard, where probably the theatre stood. It appears to have been a very ancient play-house, Lilly's Campaspe having been acted there in 1584. It is uncertain at what time it came into the possession of Shakspeare and his fellow-comedians. In the licence granted to them in 1603, the Globe is called the house where they usually performed, and no mention is made of Black-friars theatre. The children of the Revels sometimes acted here; indeed either they, or some other company of children, seem to have belonged to this theatre; for, The Case is altered, a play of Ben Jonson's, is printed as it was acted by the children of the Black-fryars. They were probably introduced occasionally for the sake of variety.

Note return to page 7 [f] f“All the city looked like a private play-house, when the windows are clapt downe, as if some nocturnal and dismal tragedy were presently to be acted.” Decker's Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, 1606. See also Historia Histrionica.

Note return to page 8 [g] gThe Globe, we learn from Historia Histrionica, was nearly of the same size as the theatre built by Edward Alleyn, called the Fortune, the dimensions of which may be conjectured from a circumstance mentioned by Mr. Steevens, vol. I. p. 267, last edit. The Fortune is spoken of in the prologue to the Roaring Girl, a comedy which was acted there, as a play-house of considerable size: “A roaring girl, whose notes till now never were, “Shall fill with laughter our vast theatre.” See also the concluding lines of Shirley's prologue to the Doubtful Heir, infra p. 7.

Note return to page 9 [h] hWright's Hist. Histrion.

Note return to page 10 [i] iSo, in the Curtaine Drawer of the World, 1612: “Each play-house advanceth his flagge in the aire, whither quickly at the waving thereof are summoned whole troops of men, women, and children.”—Again, in A Mad World my Masters, a comedy by Middleton, 1608: “&lblank; the hair about the hat is as good as a flag upon the pole, at a common play-house, to waft company.” See a South View of the City of London as it appeared in 1599, in which are representations of the Globe and Swan theatres. From the words, “a common play-house,” in the passage last quoted, we may be led to suppose that flags were not displayed on the roof of Black-friars, and the other private play-houses. This custom seems to have taken rise from a misconception of a line in Ovid: “Tunc neque marmoreo pendebant vela theatro &lblank;” which Heywood thus translates: “In those days from the marble house did waive “No sail, no silken flag, or ensign brave.” “From the roof (says the same author, describing a Roman amphitheatre) grew a loover or turret, of exceeding altitude, from which an ensign of silk waved continually;—pendebant vela theatro.”—The misinterpretation might, however, have arisen from the English custom.

Note return to page 11 [k] k“'Tis Lent in your cheeks;—the flag is down.” A Mad World my Masters, a comedy by Middleton, 1608.

Note return to page 12 [l] l“After these (says Heywood, speaking of the buildings at Rome, appropriated to scenic exhibitions) they composed others, but differing in form from the theatre or amphitheatre, and every such was called circus; the frame globe-like, and merely round.” Apology for Actors, 1612. See also our author's prologue to K. Henry V. “&lblank; or may we cram “Within this wooden O, &c.”

Note return to page 13 [m] mSee Taylor's Skuller, p. 31, Ep. 22. “As gold is better that's in fire try'd,   “So is the Bank-side Globe, that late was burn'd; “For where before it had a thatched hide,   “Now to a stately theator 'tis turn'd.” See also Stowe's Chronicle, p. 1003.

Note return to page 14 [n] nThe Globe theatre, (which was situated in Southwark, nearly opposite to Queen-street Cheapside) being contiguous to the Bear-Garden, when the sports of the latter were over, the same spectators probably resorted to the former. The audiences at the Bull and the Fortune, were, it may be presumed, of a class still inferior to that of the Globe. The latter, being the theatre of his majesty's servants, must necessarily have had a superior degree of reputation. At all of them, however, it appears, that noise and shew were what chiefly attracted an audience. Our author speaks in Hamlet of “berattling the common [i. e. the public] theatres.” See also A Prologue spoken by a company of players who had seceded from the Fortune, infra p. 15. (Note q) from which we learn that the performers at that theatre “to split the ears of the groundlings,” used “to tear a passion to tatters.” In some verses addressed by Thomas Carew to Mr. [afterwards Sir William] D'Avenant, “Upon his excellent Play, The Just Italian,” 1630, I find a similar character of the Bull theatre: “Now noise prevails; and he is tax'd for drowth “Of wit, that with the cry spends not his mouth.— “&lblank; thy strong fancies, raptures of the brain, “Dress'd in poetic flames, they entertain “As a bold impious reach; for they'll still slight “All that exceeds Red Bull and Cockpit flight. “These are the men in crowded heaps that throng “To that adulterate stage, where not a tongue “Of the untun'd kennel, can a line repeat “Of serious sense; but like lips meet like meat: “Whilst the true brood of actors, that alone “Keep natural unstrain'd action in her throne, “Behold their benches bare, though they rehearse “The terser Beaumont's, or great Jonson's verse.” The true brood of actors were the performers at Black-friars, where The Just Italian was acted.

Note return to page 15 [o] oIn the printed play, these words are omitted; the want of which renders the prologue perfectly unintelligible.

Note return to page 16 [p] pThe common people stood in the Globe theatre, in that part of the house which we now call the pit; which being lower than the stage, Shirley calls them understanders. In the private play-houses, it appears from the subsequent lines, there were seats in the pit.

Note return to page 17 [q] qWright.

Note return to page 18 [r] rKing Lear, in the title page of the original edition, printed in 1608, is said to have been performed by his majesty's servants, playing usually at the Globe on the Bankside.—See also the licence granted by king James in 1603: “&lblank; and the said comedies, tragedies, &c.—to shew—as well within their now usual house called the Globe &lblank;”

Note return to page 19 [s] sSee The Works of Taylor the water-poet, p. 171, edit. 1633.

Note return to page 20 [t] tFleckno, in his Short Discourse of the English Stage, published in 1664, says, some remains of these ancient theatres were at that day to be seen in the inn-yards of the Cross-keys in Grace-church Street, and the Bull in Bishopsgate Street. In the seventeen play-houses erected between the years 1570 and 1629, the continuator of Stowe's Chronicle reckons “five innes or common osteryes turned into play-houses.”

Note return to page 21 [u] u“In the play-houses at London, it is the fashion of youthes to go first into the yarde, and to carry their eye through every gallery; then like unto ravens, when they spye the carion, thither they flye, and press as near to the fairest as they can.” Plays Confuted, in Five Several Actions, by Stephen Gosson, 1579. Again, in Decker's Gul's Horn-book, 1609: “The stage, like time, will bring you to most perfect light, and lay you open; neither are you to be hunted from thence, though the scare-crowes in the yard hoot you, hiss at you, spit at you.” So, in the prologue to an old comedy called The Hog has lost his Pearl, 1611: “We may be pelted off for what we know “With apples, eggs, or stones, from those below.” See also the prologue to The Doubtful Heir, ante p. 7: “&lblank; and what you most delight in, “Grave understanders, &lblank;”

Note return to page 22 [w] w“Whether therefore the gatherers of the publique or private play-house stand to receive the afternoon's rent, let our gallant, having paid it, presently advance himself to the throne of the stage. I mean not into the lords' roome, which is now but the stage's suburbs. No, those boxes,—by the iniquity of custom, conspiracy of waiting-women, and gentlemen-ushers, that there sweat together, and the covetous sharers—are contemptibly thrust into the reare, and much new satten is there dambd, by being smother'd to death in darkness.” Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609. So, in the prologue to Massinger's City-Madam: “The private box took up at a new play “For me and my retinue; a fresh habit “Of a fashion never seen before, to draw “The gallants' eyes that sit upon the stage.” See also, Epigrams, by Sir John Davis, no date, but printed at Middleburg, about 1598: “Rufus the courtier at the theatre,   “Leaving the best and most conspicuous place, “Doth either to the stage himself-transfer,   “Or through a grate doth shew his double face, “For that the clamourous fry of innes of court,   “Fills up the private roomes of greater price; “And such a place where all may have resort,   “He in his singularity doth despise.”

Note return to page 23 [x] xThe pit, Dr. Percy supposes to have received its name from one of the play-houses having been formerly a cock-pit. This account of the term, however, seems to be somewhat questionable. The place where the seats are ranged in St. Mary's at Cambridge, is still called the pit; and no one can suspect that venerable fabric of having ever been a cock-pit, or that the phrase was borrowed from a play-house to be applied to a church. A pit is a place low in its relative situation, and such is the middle part of a theatre. Shakspeare himself uses cock-pit to express a small confined situation, without any particular reference: “Can this cock-pit hold “The vasty fields of France—or may we cram, “Within this wooden O, the very casques “That did affright the air at Agincourt.”

Note return to page 24 [y] ySee an old collection of tales, entitled Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1595: “When the great man had read the actor's letter, he presently in answere to it, took a sheet of paper, and folding sixpence up in it, sealed it, subscribed it, and sent it to his brother; intimating thereby, that though his brother had vowed not in seven years to see him, yet he for his sixpence could come and see him upon the stage at his pleasure.” So, in the induction to The Magnetic Lady, by Ben Jonson: “Not the fæces or grounds of your people that sit in the oblique caves and wedges of your house, your sinful sixpenny mechanicks.” See post. Verses addressed to Fletcher on his Faithful Shepherdess. That there were sixpenny places at the Black-friars play-house, appears from the epilogue to Mayne's City Match, 1639, which was acted at that theatre: “Not that he fears his name can suffer wrack “From them who sixpence pay, and sixpence crack; “To such he wrote not, though some parts have been “So like here, that they to themselves came in.”

Note return to page 25 [z] zSo, in Wit without Money, by B. and Fletcher: “Break in at plays like prentices for three a groat, and crack nuts with the scholars in penny rooms again.” Again, in Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609: “Your groundling and gallery commoner buys his sport by the penny.” Again, in Humour's Ordinarie, where a Man may be very merrie and exceeding well used for his Sixpence, no date: “Will you stand spending your invention's treasure, “To teach stage-parrots speak for penny pleasure.”

Note return to page 26 [a] a“Pay thy two-pence to a player, in this gallery you may sit by a harlot.” Bell-man's Night-walk, by Decker, 1616. So, in The Fleire, a comedy by Sharpham, 1615: “And they, like your common players, let men come in for two-pence a-piece.” Again, in the prologue to the Woman-hater, by B. and Fletcher, 1607: “&lblank; to the utter discomfiture of all two-penny gallery men.” It appears from a passage in The Roaring Girl, a comedy by Middleton, 1611, that there was a two-penny gallery in the Fortune play-house, which belonged to William Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich college: “One of them is Nip; I took him once at the two-penny gallery at the Fortune.”

Note return to page 27 [b] bThe boxes in the theatre at Black-friars were probably small, and appear to have been inclosed in the same manner as at present. See a letter from Mr. Garrard, dated January 25, 1635. Straff. Letters, vol. I. p. 511: “A little pique happened betwixt the duke of Lenox and the lord chamberlain, about a box at a new play in the Black-friars, of which the duke had got the key; which if it had come to be debated betwixt them as it was once intended, some heat or perhaps other inconvenience might have happened.” In the Globe and the other public theatres, they were of considerable size. See the prologue to If this be not a good Play, the Devil is in it, by Decker, acted at the Red Bull: “&lblank; Give me that man, “Who, when the plague of an imposthum'd brains, “Breaking out, infects a theatre, and hotly reigns, “Killing the hearers' hearts, that the vast rooms “Stand empty, like so many dead mens' tombs, “Can call the banish'd auditor home, &c.” He seems to be here describing his antagonist B. Jonson, whose plays were generally performed to a thin audience. See Verses on our author, by Leonard Digges, post.

Note return to page 28 [c] cSee Sir Thomas Overbury's Characters, 1614: “If he have but twelvepence in his purse, he will give it for the best room in a play-house.” So, in the prologue to our author's King Henry VIII: “Those that come to see “Only a shew or two, and so agree “The play may pass, if they be still and willing, “I'll undertake may see away their shilling “In two short hours.” Again, in a copy of verses prefixed to Massinger's Bondman, 1624: “Reader, if you have disburs'd a shilling “To see this worthy story &lblank;” Again, in the Gul's Horn-book, 1609: “At a new play you take up the twelvepenny room next the stage, because the lords and you may seem to be hail-fellow well met.” So late as in the year 1658, we find the following advertisement at the end of a piece called The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru, by Sir William D'Avenant: “Notwithstanding the great expence necessary to scenes and other ornaments, in this entertainment, there is good provision made of places for a shilling, and it shall certainly begin at three in the afternoon.”

Note return to page 29 [d] dSee the prologue to The Queen of Arragon, a tragedy by Habington, 1640: “Ere we begin, that no man may repent “Two shillings and his time, the author sent “The prologue with the errors of his play, “That who will may take his money and away.” Again, in the epilogue to Mayne's City Match, 1639, acted at Black-friars: “To them who call't reproof, to make a face, “Who think they judge, when they frown i' the wrong place, “Who if they speak not ill o' the poet, doubt “They loose by the play, nor have their two shillings out, “He says, &c.”

Note return to page 30 [e] eSee Wit without Money, a comedy, 1639: “And who extoll'd you into the half crown boxes, “Where you might sit and muster all the beauties.” In the play-house called the Hope on the Bankside, there were five different-priced seats, from sixpence to half a crown. See the induction to Bartholomew Fair, by Ben Jonson, 1614.

Note return to page 31 [f] f“&lblank; a fresh habit “Of a fashion never seen before, to draw “The gallants' eyes that sit upon the stage.” Prologue to Massinger's City Madam. So, in A Mad World my Masters, by Middleton, 1608: “The actors have been found in a morning in less compass than their stage, though it were ne'er so full of gentlemen.”

Note return to page 32 [g] g“&lblank; to fair attire the stage “Helps much; for if our other audience see “You on the stage depart, before we end, “Our wits go with you all, and we are fools.” Prologue to All Fools, a comedy, acted at Black-friars, 1605. See also the preface to the first folio edition of our author's works:—“And though you be a magistrate of wit, and sit on the stage at Black-friars, to arraigne plays dailie &lblank;”

Note return to page 33 [h] h“Being on your feet, sneake not away like a coward, but salute all your gentle acquaintance that are spred either on the rushes, or on stooles about you; and draw what troops you can from the stage after you &lblank;” Decker's Gul's Horn-book, 1609. This accounts for Hamlet's sitting on the ground at Ophelia's feet, during the representation of the play before the king and court of Denmark. Our author has only placed the young prince in the same situation in which he perhaps often saw Essex or Southampton at the feet of some celebrated beauty. What some chose from œconomy, gallantry might have recommended to others.

Note return to page 34 [i] i“By sitting on the stage, you may with small cost, purchase the deere acquaintance of the boyes; have a good stoole for sixpence &lblank;” Gul's Horn-book.

Note return to page 35 [k] k“These are most worne and most in fashion “Amongst the bever gallants, the stone riders, “The private stage's audience, the twelvepenny stoole gentlemen.” The Roaring Girl, a comedy by Middleton, 1611. So, in the induction to Marston's Malcontent, 1604: “By God's slid if you had, I would have given you but sixpence for your stool.”—This therefore was the lowest rate; and the price of the most commodious stools on the stage was a shilling.

Note return to page 36 [l] l“When young Rogero goes to see a play, “His pleasure is you place him on the stage, “The better to demonstrate his array, “And how he sits attended by his page, “That only serves to fill those pipes with smoke, “For which he pawned hath his riding cloak.” Springes for Woodcocks, by H. P. 1613.

Note return to page 37 [m] mSee the induction to Marston's Malecontent, 1604, which was acted by his majesty's servants at Black-friars: Tyreman. “Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit here. Sly. “Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private house. Thou dost not take me for a country gentleman, dost? Doest thou think I fear hissing? Let them that have stale suits, sit in the galleries, hiss at me &lblank;” See also, The Roaring Girl, by Middleton: “&lblank; the private stage's audience.—” Ante p. 13. (Note k).

Note return to page 38 [n] n“On the very rushes where the comedy is to daunce, yea, and under the state of Cambyses himselfe, must our feather'd estridge, like a piece of ordnance, be planted valiantly, because impudently, beating down the mews and hisses of the opposed rascality.” Decker's Gul's Horn-book.

Note return to page 39 [o] oSee also Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour, 1600: “Fore G&wblank;, sweet lady, believe it, I do honour the meanest rush in this chamber for your love.”

Note return to page 40 [p] pThe epilogue to Tancred and Gismund, a tragedy, 1592, concludes thus: “Now draw the curtaines for our scene is done.” So, in the induction to Marston's What You Will, a comedy, 1607: “Let's place ourselves within the curtaines; for good faith the stage is so very little, we shall wrong the general eye very much.” Again, in Lady Alimony, 1657: “Be your stage curtains artificially drawn, and so covertly shrowded, that the squint-eyed groundling may not peep in.” See also a stage direction in The First Day's Entertainment at Rutland House, by Declamation and Music after the manner of the Ancients, by Sir William D'Avenant, 1658: “The song ended, the curtains are drawn open again, and the epilogue enters.”

Note return to page 41 [q] qSee A Prologue upon removing of the late Fortune Players to the Bull, by J Tateham; Fancie's Theatre, 1640: “Here gentlemen our anchor's fixt; and we “Disdaining Fortune's mutability, “Expect your kind acceptance; then we'll sing, “(Protected by your smiles our ever-spring) “As pleasant as if we had still possest “Our lawful portion out of Fortune's breast. “Only we would request you to forbear “Your wonted custom, banding tyle and peare “Against our curtains, to allure us forth;— “Pray take notice—these are of more worth; “Pure Naples silk, not worsted.—We have ne'er “An actor who has mouth enough to tear “Language by the ears. This forlorn hope shall be “By us refin'd from such gross injury: “And then let your judicious loves advance “Us to our merits, them to their ignorance.”

Note return to page 42 [r] rSee Nabbes's Covent Garden, a comedy, 1639: “Enter Dorothy and Susan in the balcone.” So, in The Virgin Martyr, a tragedy by Massinger, 1622: “They whisper below. Enter above Sapritius—with him Artemisia the princess, Theophilus, Spungius, and Hercius.” And these five personages speak from this elevated situation during the whole scene.” See also the early quarto editions of our author's Romeo and Juliet, where we meet—“Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.” So, in The Taming of a Shrew: “Enter aloft the drunkard.”—Almost the whole of the dialogue in that play between the tinker and his attendants, appears to have been spoken in this balcony.

Note return to page 43 [s] sThis appears from a stage-direction in Massinger's Emperor of the East, 1632: “The curtaines drawn above—Theodosius and his eunuchs discovered.”

Note return to page 44 [t] tSee Peck's Memoirs of Milton, p. 282: “The above mentioned art of varying the face of the whole stage was a new thing and never seen in England till August 1605, at what time, king James I. being to be entertained at Oxford, the heads of that University hired the aforesaid Inigo Jones (a great traveller) who undertook to farther them much, and to furnish them with rare devices for the king's entertainment. Accordingly he erected a stage close to the upper end of the hall, (as it seemed at the first sight) at Christ-church; but it was indeed but a false wall, fair painted and adorned with stately pillars, which pillars would turn about. By reason whereof, with other painted clothes, on Wednesday Aug. 28, he varied their stage three times in the acting of one tragedy.”

Note return to page 45 [u] u“Of whyche the lyke thyng is used to be shewed now adays in stage-playes, when some god or some saynt is made to appere forth of a cloude; and succoureth the parties which seemed to be towardes some great danger, through the Soudan's crueltie &lblank;” The author adds in a marginal note: “&lblank; the lyke manner used nowe at our days in stage-playes.” Acolastus, a comedy by T. Palsgrave, chaplain to king Henry VIII. 1540.

Note return to page 46 [x] x9Q1271All the ancient writers on the English stage, assert that until after the death of king Charles I it was unfurnished with scenes: “Now for the difference betwixt our theatres and those of former times, (says Fleckno, who lived near enough the time to be accurately informed) they were but plain and simple, with no other scenes nor decorations of the stage, but only old tapestry, and the stage strewed with rushes; with their habits accordingly.”— Short Discourse of the English Stage, 1664. But though the theatres were not supplied with these costly ornaments, it appears from this writer, (as well as from the passage above quoted, p. 16, note t) that scenes themselves were not a novelty at the Restoration: “For scenes and machines, (he adds, in a subsequent page) they are no new invention; our masques, and some of our playes in former times, (though not so ordinary) having had as good, or rather better, than any we have now.”—To reconcile this passage with the foregoing, the author must be supposed to speak here, not of the exhibitions at the publick theatres, but of private plays, performed either at court or at noblemens' houses. He does not say, “some of our theatres,”—but, “some of our plays having had, &c.” In the reign of king Charles I. the performance of plays at court, and at private houses, seems to have been very common; and gentlemen went to great expence in these exhibitions. See a letter from Mr. Garrard to lord Strafford, dated Feb. 7. 1637. Strafford's Letters, Vol. II. p. 150: “Two of the king's servants, privy-chamber men both, have writ each of them a play, Sir John Sutlin [Suckling] and Will. Barclay, which have been acted in court, and at the Black-friars with much applause. Sutlin's play cost three or four hundred pounds setting out; eight or ten suits of new cloaths he gave the players; an unheard-of prodigality.”—The play on which Sir John Suckling expended this large sum, was, I believe, The Goblins. To the authority of Fleckno, may be added that of Edward Philips, who, in his Theatrum Poetarum, 1674, [article D'Avenant] praises that poet for “the great fluency of his wit and fancy, especially for what he wrote for the English stage, of which, having laid the foundation before by his musical dramas, when the usual plays were not suffered to be acted, he was the first reviver and improver, by painted scenes.” Wright also, who appears to have been well acquainted with the history of our ancient stage, says, in his Historia Histrionica, 1699, that “scenes were first introduced by Sir William D'Avenant, on the publick stage, at the Duke's old theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields.” See also Roscius Anglicanus, p. 20, 1708: “In spring 1662, Sir William D'Avenant opened his house with the first and second parts of The Siege of Rhodes; having new scenes and decorations, being the first that were introduced in England.” Downes the prompter, who was the author of Roscius Anglicanus, himself acted in The Siege of Rhodes, on the opening of Sir William D'Avenant's house.—Scenes, however, we have already observed, had been before used in private exhibitions; he ought therefore to have added—“on a publick theatre.” They had been introduced by Sir William, probably in a less perfect state, about four years before the period Downes speaks of, not indeed in a play, but in an entertainment, entitled, “The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru, exprest by vocal and instrumental Musick, and by Art of perspective in Scenes. Represented daily at the Cockpit in Drury Lane, 1658;” a performance, which Cromwell, from his hatred to the Spaniards, permitted, though he had prohibited all other theatrical exhibitions.

Note return to page 47 [y] yIn The Devil's Charter, a tragedy, 1607, the following stage-direction is found: “Alexander draweth [that is, draws open] the curtaine of his studie, where he discovereth the devill sitting in his pontificals.” Again, in Satiromastix, by Decker, 1602: “Horace sitting in his study, behind a curtaine, a candle by him burning, books lying confusedly, &c.”

Note return to page 48 [z] zSee these several stage-directions in the first folio, 1623.

Note return to page 49 [a] a“Why I descend into this bed of death.” Romeo and Juliet, act v. So, in The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “And then our Romeus, the vault-stone set up-right, “Descended downe, and in his hand he bore the candle light.” Juliet, however, after her recovery, speaks and dies upon the stage.—If therefore, the exhibition was such as has been now supposed, Romeo must have brought her up in his arms from the vault beneath the stage, after he had killed Paris, and then addressed her—“O my love, my wife, &c.”

Note return to page 50 [b] bDefence of Poesie, 1595. Sign. H. 4.

Note return to page 51 [c] cAfter all, however, it is difficult to conceive how some of our author's plays could have been exhibited without some species of scenery. The sentiments of Mr. Steevens, who is of opinion that our ancient theatres were not unfurnished with scenes, appear so weighty, that I shall add them in his own words: “It must be acknowledged that little more is advanced on this occasion, than is fairly supported by the testimony of contemporary writers. Were we, however, to reason on such a part of the subject as is now before us, some suspicions might arise, that where machinery was discovered, the less complicated adjunct of scenes was scarcely wanting. When the column is found standing, no one will suppose but that it was once accompanied by its usual entablature. If this inference be natural, little impropriety can be complained of in one of the stage-directions above mentioned. Where the bed is introduced, the scene of a bed-chamber (a thing too common to deserve description) would of course be at hand. Neither should any great stress be laid on the words of Sir Philip Sidney. Are we not still obliged to receive the stage alternately as a garden, as an ocean, as a range of rocks, or as a cavern? With all our modern advantages, so much of vraisemblance is wanting in a theatre, that the apologies which Shakspeare offers for scenical deficiency, are still in some degree needful; and be it always remembered that Sir Philip Sidney has not positively declared that no painted scenes were in use. Who that mentions the present stage, would think it necessary to dwell on the article of scenery, unless it were peculiarly striking and magnificent? Sir Philip has not spoken of stage-habits, and are we therefore to suppose that none were worn? Besides, between the time when Sir Philip wrote his Defence of Poesy, and the period at which the plays of Shakspeare were represented, the stage in all probability had received much additional embellishment. Let me repeat, that if in 1529 (the date of Acolastus) * [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 52 *What happy deceptions could be produced by the aid of framework and painted canvas, we may learn from Holinshed, and yet more ancient historians. The pageants and tournaments at the beginning of Henry VIIIth's reign very frequently required that the castles of imaginary beings should be exhibited. Of such contrivances some descriptions remain. These extempore buildings afforded a natural introduction to scenery on the stage.

Note return to page 53 *Apemantus must have pointed to the scenes as he spoke the following lines: “&lblank; shame not these woods, “By putting on the cunning of a carper.” Again: “&lblank; will these moist trees “That have outliv'd the eagle, &c.” A piece of old tapestry must have been regarded as a poor substitute for these towering shades.

Note return to page 54 *To shift a scene is at least a phrase employed by Shakspeare himself in K. Hen. V. “&lblank; and not till then “Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.” and by Ben Jonson, yet more appositely, in The Staple of News: “Lic. Have you no news o' the stage? “Tho. O yes; “There is a legacy left to the king's players, “Both for their various shifting of their scenes, “And dextrous change of their persons to all shapes “And all disguises, &c.”

Note return to page 55 *After a pageant had passed through the streets, the characters that composed it were assembled in some hall or other spacious apartment, where they delivered their respective speeches, and were finally set out to view with the advantages of proper scenery and decoration.

Note return to page 56 [d] d“Sir Crack, I am none of your fresh pictures that use to beautify the decayed old arras, in a publick theatre.” Induction to Cynthia's Revels, by Ben Jonson, 1601.

Note return to page 57 [e] eIn the induction to an old tragedy called A Warning for fair Women, 1599, three personages are introduced under the names of Tragedy, Comedy, and History. After some contest for superiority, Tragedy prevails; and History and Comedy retire with these words: Hist. “Look, Comedie, I mark'd it not till now, “The stage is hung with blacke, and I perceive “The auditors prepar'd for tragedie. Com. “Nay then, I see she shall be entertain'd. “These ornaments beseem not thee and me; “Then, Tragedie, kill them to-day with sorrow, “We'll make them laugh with mirthful jests to-morrow.” So, in Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1603: “The stage of heaven is hung with solemn black, “A time best fitting to act tragedies.” Again, in our author's K. Henry VI. P. I. “Hung be the heavens with black, &c.” Again, more appositely, in his Rape of Lucrece, 1594: “Black stage for tragedies, and murthers fell.”

Note return to page 58 [f] f“What child is there that coming to a play and seeing Thebes written upon an old door, doth believe that it is Thebes?” Defence of Poesie, by Sir Philip Sidney. Sig. G. 1595.

Note return to page 59 [g] g“Here—with some fine conveyance, Pleasure shall appeare from beneathe.” All for Money, 1578. So, in Marston's Antonio's Revenge, 1602: “Enter Balurdo from under the stage.” In the fourth act of Macbeth, several apparitions arise from beneath the stage and again descend.—The cauldron likewise sinks:—“Why sinks that cauldron, and what noise is this?” In the Roaring Girl, a comedy by Middleton, 1611, there is a character called Trap-door.

Note return to page 60 [h] hApol. for Actors, 1612. Sig. D 3.

Note return to page 61 [i] iFleckno, in 1664, complains of the bad lighting of the stage, even at that time: “Of this curious art [scenery] the Italians (this latter age) are the greatest masters; the French good proficients; and we in England only scholars and learners yet, having proceeded no farther than to bare painting, and not arrived to the stupendous wonders of your great ingeniers; especially not knowing yet how to place our lights, for the more advantage and illuminating of the scenes.” Short Discourse of the English stage.

Note return to page 62 [k] kAn actor, who wrote a pamphlet against Mr. Pope, soon after the publication of his edition of Shakspeare, says, he could prove that they belonged to several different companies. It appears from the MS. Register of lord Stanhope, treasurer of the chambers to king James I. that Joseph Taylor, in 1613, was at the head of a distinct company from that of Hemminge, called the lady Elizabeth's servants, who acted at the Hope on the Bankside. Some of the players too, whose names are prefixed to the first folio edition of our author, were dead in the year 1600, or soon after; and others there enumerated, might have appeared in a subsequent period, to supply their loss. See the Catalogue of Actors, post.

Note return to page 63 [l] lIn the induction to Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602, Piero asks Alberto, what part he acts. He replies, “the necessity of the play forceth me to act two parts.” See also the Dramatis Personæ of many of our ancient plays; and post. p. 28. (Note t).

Note return to page 64 [m] m“And so our scene must to the battle fly, “Where, O for pity! we shall much disgrace “With four or five most vile and ragged foils, “Right ill dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, “The name of Agincourt.” K. Henry V. act IV.

Note return to page 65 [n] n“Much like to some of the players that come to the scaffold with drumme and trumpet, to proffer skirmishe, and when they have sounded alarme, off go the pieces, to encounter a shadow or conquer a paper-monster.” Schoole of Abuse, by Stephen Gosson, 1579. So, in The True Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, and the Death of good King Henrie the Sixt, 1600: “Alarmes to the battaile.—York flies—then the chambers be discharged—then enter the king, &c.”

Note return to page 66 [o] o“Come let's but think ourselves what may be found “To deceive time with till the second sound.” Notes from Black-fryars, by H. Fitz-Jeoffery, 1617. See also Decker's Gul's Horn-booke, 1609: “Throw the cardes about the stage just upon the third sound, as though you had lost.”

Note return to page 67 [p] pIt has been thought by some that our author's dramas were exhibited without any pauses, in an unbroken continuity of scenes. But this appears to be a mistake. In a copy of Romeo and Juliet, 1599, now before me, which clearly belonged to the play-house, the endings of the acts are marked in the margin; and directions are given for musick to be played between each act. The marginal directions in this copy appear to be of a very old date, one of them being in the ancient style and hand—“Play musicke.”

Note return to page 68 [q] qSee Decker's Gul's Horn-book, 1609. “Present not yourselfe on the stage (especially at a new play) untill the quaking prologue hath by rubbing got cullor into his cheeks, and is ready to give the trumpets their cue, that he's upon the point to enter.”

Note return to page 69 [r] rSee the Induction to Cynthia's Revels, 1601: 1 Child. “Pray you, away; why children what do you mean? 2 Child. “Marry, that you should not speak the prologue. 1 Child. “Sir, I plead possession of the cloak. Gentlemen, your suffrages, for God's sake.” So, in the prologue to The Coronation, by Shirley, 1640: “Since 'tis become the title of our play, “A woman once in a coronation may “With pardon speak the prologue, give as free “A welcome to the theatre, as he “That with a little beard, a long black cloak, “With a starch'd face and supple leg, hath spoke “Before the plays this twelvemonth, let me then “Present a welcome to these gentlemen.” Again, in the prologue to The Woman-Hater, by B. and Fletcher: “Gentlemen, inductions are out of date, and a prologue in verse is as stale as a black velvet cloak, and a bay garland.”

Note return to page 70 [s] sSee Hamlet, act III. sc. ii. “O it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters.” So, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609: “As none wear hoods but monks and ladies,—and feathers but fore-horses, &c. none periwigs but players and pictures.”

Note return to page 71 [t] t“&lblank; partly (says he) to supply the want of players, when there were more parts than there were persons.”

Note return to page 72 [u] uIn The Midsummer Night's Dream, Flute objects to his playing a woman's part, because he has “a beard a coming.” But his friend Quince tells him, “that's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.”

Note return to page 73 [w] w“In our assemblies at playes in London (says Gosson, in his Schoole of Abuse, 1579, Sig. C.) you shall see such heaving and shoving, such ytching and shouldring to sitte by women, such care for their garments that they be not trode on; such eyes to their lappes that no chippes light in them; such pillows to their backes that they take no hurte; such masking in their ears, I know not what; such giving them pippins to pass the time; such playing at foot-saunte without cardes; such licking, such toying, such smiling, such winking, such manning them home when the sports are ended, that it is a right comedie to mark their behaviour.” So also the prologue to Marston's Fawne, 1606: “&lblank; nor doth he hope to win “Your laud or hand with that most common sin “Of vulgar pens, rank bawdry, that smells “Even through your masks, usque ad nauseam.” So, in our author's Romeo and Juliet: “These happy masks that hide fair ladies' brows.” Again, in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; as these black masks “Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder “Than beauty could display'd.” Again, in B. Jonson's verses, addressed to Fletcher on his Faithful Shepherdess: “The wise and many-headed bench that sits “Upon the life and death of plays and wits, “Compos'd of gamester, captain, knight, knight's man, “Lady or pusil, that wears maske or fan, “Velvet or taffata cap, rank'd in the dark “With the shop's foreman, or some such brave sparke, “(That may judge for his sixpence) had, before “They saw it half, damn'd thy whole play.” After the Restoration, masks, I believe, were chiefly worn in the theatre, by women of the town. Wright complains of the great number of masks in his time: “Of late the play-houses are so extremely pestered with vizard masks and their trade, (occasioning continual quarrels and abuses) that many of the more civilized part of the town are uneasy in the company, and shun the theatre as they would a house of scandal.” Hist. Histrion. 1699. Ladies of unblemished character, however, wore masks in the boxes, in the time of Congreve.

Note return to page 74 [x] xSee the induction to Ben Jonson's Staple of News, acted by the king's servants, in 1625: “O Curiosity, you come to see who wears the new suit today; whose cloaths are best pen'd, whatever the part be; which actor has the best leg and foot; what king plays without cuffs, and his queen without gloves: who rides post in stockings, and dances in boots.”9Q1272

Note return to page 75 [y] yRosc. Anglican. p. 19.

Note return to page 76 [z] z“I assure you Sir, we are not so officiously befriended by him [the author] as to have his presence in the tiring-house, to prompt us aloud, stamp at the book-holder, swear for our properties, curse the poor tireman, rayle the musicke out of tune, &c.” Induction to Cynthia's Revels, 1601.

Note return to page 77 [a] a9Q1273Soon after the Restoration, Sir William D'Avenant exhibited, I believe, the first farce that appeared on the English stage, translated from Moliere's Sganarelle ou le Cocu Imaginaire; which, Langbaine says, used to be acted after the tragedy of Pompey, written by Mrs. Katherine Philips. It was afterwards incorporated by D'Avenant in a piece of five acts, called The Play-house to be let, where only it is now to be found. In 1677, The Cheats of Scapin was performed, as a second piece, after Titus and Berenice, a play of three acts, in order to furnish out an exhibition of the usual length: and about the same time farces were produced by Duffet, Tate, and others.

Note return to page 78 [b] b“For the eye, beside the beautie of the houses and the stages, he [the devil] sendeth garish apparel, masques, vaulting, tumbling, dancing of gigges, galiardes, moriscoes, hobby-horses, shewing of juggling castes—nothing forgot, that might serve to set out the matter with pompe, or ravish the beholders with variety of pleasure.” Gosson's School of Abuse. Sig. G.9Q1274

Note return to page 79 [c] cSo, in Fitz-Jeoffery's Satires, 1617: “Ye worthy worthies! none else, might I chuse, “Doe I desire my poesie peruse, “For to save charges ere the play begin, “Or when the lord of liberty comes in.” Again, in a satire at the conclusion of The Mastive, or young Whelpe of the old Dogge.—Epigrams and Satires; printed by Thomas Creede: [The author is speaking of those who will probably purchase his book.] “Last comes my scoffing friend, of scowring wit, “Who thinks his judgment 'bove all arts doth sit. “He buys the booke, and hastes him to the play, “Where when he comes and reads, “here's stuff,” doth say; “Because the lookers on may hold him wife, “He laughs at what he likes, and then will rise, “And takes tobacco; then about will looke, “And more dislike the play than of the booke; “At length is vext he should with charge be drawne “For such slight sights to lay a suite to pawne.”

Note return to page 80 [d] d“Before the play begins, fall to cardes.” Gul's Horn-book, 1609.

Note return to page 81 [e] eSee The Woman-Hater, a comedy, by B. and Fletcher, 1607: “There is no poet acquainted with more shakings and quakings towards the latter end of his new play, when he's in that case that he stands peeping between the curtains, so fearfully, that a bottle of ale cannot be opened but he thinks some body hisses.”

Note return to page 82 [f] f“Now, Sir, I am one of your gentle auditors that am come in.—I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket; my light by me—and thus I begin.” Induction to Cynthia's Revels, 1601. So, in Bartholomew Fair, by Ben Jonson: “He looks like a fellow that I have seen accomodate gentlemen with tobacco at our theatres.” Again, in Decker's Gul's Horn-booke: “By sitting on the stage, you may with small cost purchase the deare acquaintance of the boyes; have a good stool for sixpence;—get your matchlighted, &c.”

Note return to page 83 [g] g“&lblank; Pr'ythee what's the play? “I'll see it and sit it out whate'er.— “Had Fate fore-read me in a crowd to die, “Or be made adder-deaf with pippin-cry.” Notes from Black-fryars, by H. Fitz-Jeoffery, 1617.

Note return to page 84 [h] hSee the induction to Marston's Malecontent, a comedy, 1604: “I am one that hath seen this play often, and can give them [Heminge, Burbage, &c.] intelligence for their action; I have most of the jests here in my table-book.” So, in the prologue to Hannibal and Scipio, 1637: “&lblank; Nor shall he in plush, “That from the poet's labours, in the pit “Informs himself, for the exercise of his wit “At taverns, gather notes.”— Again, in the prologue to The Woman Hater, a comedy, 1607: “If there be any lurking among you in corners, with table-books, who have some hopes to find fit matter to feed his malice on, let them clasp them up, and slink away, or stay and be converted.” Again, in Every man in his Humour: “But to such wherever they sit concealed, let them know, the author defies them and their writing-tables.”

Note return to page 85 [i] iSee vol. VI. p. 647.

Note return to page 86 [k] kSee A mad World my Masters, a comedy, by Middleton, 1608: “Some sherry for my lord's players there, sirrah; why this will be a true feast—a right Mitre supper—a play and all.” The night before the insurrection of the gallant and unfortunate earl of Essex, the play of K. Richard II. was acted at his house.

Note return to page 87 [l] lSee the notes on the epilogue to The Second Part of K. Henry IV. vol. V. p. 615.

Note return to page 88 [m] mSee Cambyses, a tragedy, by Thomas Preston; Locrine, 1595; and K. Henry IV. P. II.

Note return to page 89 [n] n“Fuscus doth rise at ten, and at eleven “He goes to Gyls, where he doth eat till one, “Then sees a play.”— Epigrams by Sir John Davies, no date, but printed about 1598. Others, however, were actuated by a stronger curiosity, and, in order to secure good places, went to the theatre without their dinner. See the prologue to The Unfortunate Lovers, by Sir William D'Avenant, 1643: “&lblank; You are grown excessive proud, “Since ten times more of wit than was allow'd “Your silly ancestors in twenty year, “You think in two short hours to swallow here. “For they to theatres were pleas'd to come “Ere they had din'd, to take up the best room; “There sat on benches not adorn'd with mats, “And graciously did vail their high-crown'd hats “To every half-dress'd player, as he still “Through hangings peep'd, to see the galleries fill. “Good easy-judging souls with what delight “They would expect a jigg or target-fight! “A furious tale of Troy,—which they ne'er thought “Was weakly writ, if it were strongly fought; “Laugh'd at a clinch, the shadow of a jest, “And cry'd—a passing good one, I protest.” From the foregoing lines it appears that, anciently, places were not taken in the best rooms or boxes, before the representation. Soon after the Restoration, this practice was established. See a prologue to a revived play, in Covent Garden Drollery, 1672: “Hence 'tis that at new plays you come so soon, “Like bridegrooms hot to go to bed ere noon; “Or if you are detain'd some little space, “The stinking footman's sent to keep your place. “But if a play's reviv'd, you stay and dine, “And drink till three, and then come dropping in.”

Note return to page 90 [o] oSee note (n). See also the prologue to K. Henry VIII. and that to Romeo and Juliet.

Note return to page 91 [p] pSee The Demoiselles a la Mode, by Flecknoe, 1667: 1. Actor. “Hark you, hark you, whither away so fast? 2. Actor. “Why, to the theatre, 'tis past three o'clock, and the play is ready to begin.” See also note n above. After the Restoration, (we are told by old Mr. Cibber) it was a frequent practice of the ladies of quality, to carry Mr. Kynaston the actor, in his female dress, after the play, in their coaches to Hyde Park.

Note return to page 92 [q] q“These [the players] because they are allowed to play every Sunday, make four or five Sundays, at least, every week.” School of Abuse, 1579. In former times, (says Stowe in his Survey of London), ingenious tradesmen and gentlemens' servants would sometimes gather a company of themselves, and learn interludes, to expose vice, or to represent the noble actions of our ancestors. These they played at festivals, in private houses, at weddings, or other entertainments. But in process of time it became an occupation, and these plays being commonly acted on Sundays and other festivals, the churches were forsaken, and the playhouses thronged.”9Q1275

Note return to page 93 [r] r“And seldom have they leisure for a play “Or masque, except upon God's holyday.” Withers's Britaine's Remembrancer, Canto vi. p. 197. b. 16289Q1276

Note return to page 94 [s] sSee vol. I. p. 201 of the prefatory matters; last edit.

Note return to page 95 [t] t“A pipe there, sirrah; no sophisticate— “Villaine, the best—whate'er you prize it at— “Tell yonder lady with the yellow fan, “I shall be proud to usher her anon; “My coach stands ready.”— Notes from Black-fryars, 1617. The author is describing the behaviour of a gallant at the Black-friars theatre.

Note return to page 96 [u] uSee the induction to Cynthia's Revels, 1601: “Besides, they could wish, your poets would leave to be promoters of other mens' jests, and to way-lay all the stale apothegms or old books they can hear of, in print or otherwise, to farce their scenes withal: —again, that feeding their friends with nothing of their own but what they have twice or thrice cooked, they should not wantonly give out, how soon they had dressed it, nor how many coaches came to carry away the broken meat, beside hobby-horses, and foot-cloth nags.”9Q1277

Note return to page 97 [w] wIn the year 1613, the Company of Watermen petitioned his majesty, “that the players might not be permitted to have a play-house in London or in Middlesex, within four miles of the city on that side of the Thames.” From Taylor's True Cause of the Watermens' Suit concerning Players, and the Reasons that their playing in London is their [i. e. the Watermen's] extreme Hindrance, we learn, that the theatres on the Bankside in Southwark were once so numerous, and the custom of going thither by water so general, that many thousand watermen were supported by it.— As the book is not common, and the passage contains some anecdotes relative to the stage at that time, I shall transcribe it: “Afterwards,” [i. e. as I conjecture, about the year 1596] says Taylor, who was employed as an advocate in behalf of the watermen, “the players began to play on the Bankside, and to leave playing in London and Middlesex for the most part. Then there went such great concourse of people by water, that the small number of watermen remaining at home [the majority being employed in the Spanish war] were not able to carry them, by reason of the court, the tearms, the players, and other employments. So that we were inforced and encouraged, hoping that this golden stirring world would have lasted ever, to take and entertaine men and boyes, which boyes are grown men and keepers of houses.—So that the number of watermen, and those that live and are maintained by them, and by the only labour of the oare and the skull, betwixt the bridge of Windsor and Gravesend, cannot be fewer than forty thousand; the cause of the greater halfe of which multitude hath bene the players playing on the Bankside; for I have known three companies, besides the bear-baiting, at once there; to wit, the Globe, the Rose, and the Swan. “And now it hath pleased God in this peaceable time [from 1604 to 1613] that there is no employment at the sea, as it hath bene accustomed; so that as all those great numbers of men remain at home; and the players have all (except the king's men) left their usual residency on the Bankside, and do play in Middlesex, far remote from the Thames; so that every day in the weeke they do draw unto them three or four thousand people, that were used to spend their moneys by water.— “—His majestie's players did exhibit a petition against us, in which they said, that our suit was unreasonable, and that we might as justly remove the Exchange, the walkes in Paul's, or Moorfields, to the Bankside, for our profits, as to confine them.” The affair appears never to have been decided. “Some (says Taylor) have reported that I took bribes of the players, to let the suit fall, and to that purpose I had a supper of them, at the Cardinal's hat, on the Bankside.” Works of Taylor the water-poet, p. 171, edit. 1633.

Note return to page 98 [x] xSee an epilogue to a vacation-play at the Globe, by Sir William D'Avenant. Works, p. 245: “For your own sakes, poor souls, you had not best “Believe my fury was so much supprest “I' the heat of the last scene, as now you may “Boldly and safely too cry down our play; “For if you dare but murmur one false note, “Here in the house, or going to take boat; “By heav'n I'll mow you off with my long sword, “Yeoman and squire, knight, lady and her lord.”

Note return to page 99 [y] ySee a letter from Mr. Garrard to Lord Strafford, dated Jan. 9, 1633–4; Strafford's Letters, vol. I. p. 175: “Here hath been an order of the lords of the council hung up in a table near Paul's and the Black-fryars, to command all that resort to the play-house there, to send away their coaches, and to disperse abroad in Paul's Church-yard, Carter Lane, the Conduit in Fleet Street, and other places, and not to return to fetch their company, but they must trot a-foot to find their coaches:—'twas kept very strictly for two or three weeks, but now I think it is disordered again.”—It should however be remembered that this was written above forty years after Shakspeare's first acquaintance with the theatre. Coaches, in the time of queen Elizabeth were possessed but by very few. They were not in ordinary use till after the year 1605. See Stowe's Annals, p. 867. Even when the above mentioned order was made, there were no hackney coaches. These, as appears from another letter in the same collection, were established a few months afterwards.—“I cannot (says Mr. Garrard) omit to mention any new thing that comes up amongst us, though never so trivial. Here is one captain Baily, he hath been a sea-captain, but now lives on the land, about this city, where he tries experiments. He hath erected according to his ability, some four hackney coaches, put his men in livery, and appointed them to stand at the May-pole in the Strand, giving them instructions at what rates to carry men into several parts of the town, where all day they may be had. Other hackney men seeing this way, they flocked to the same place, and perform their journeys at the same rate. So that sometimes there is twenty of them together, which disperse up and down, that they and others are to be had every where, as water-men are to be had by the water-side. Every body is much pleased with it. For whereas, before, coaches could not be had but at great rates, now a man may have one much cheaper.” This letter is dated April 1, 1634.—Strafford's Letters, vol. I. p. 227. A few months afterwards, hackney chairs were introduced: “Here is also another project for carrying people up and down in close chairs, for the sole doing whereof, Sir Sander Duncombe, a traveller, now a pensioner, hath obtained a patent from the king, and hath forty or fifty making ready for use.” Ibid. p. 336.

Note return to page 100 [z] z“Faustus, nor lord, nor knight, nor wise, nor old,   “To ev'ry place about the town doth ride; “He rides into the fields, plays to behold;   “He rides to take boat at the water-side.” Epigrams, printed at Middleburg, about 1598.

Note return to page 101 [a] a“They use to set up their billes upon posts some certaine dayes before, to admonish the people to make resorte to their theatres, that they may thereby be the better furnished, and the people prepared to fill their purses with their treasures.” Treatise against Idleness, vaine Playes and Interludes, bl. let. (no date). The antiquity of this custom likewise appears from a story recorded by Taylor the water-poet, under the head of Wit and Mirth. 30. “Master Field, the player, riding up Fleet-Street a great pace, a gentleman called him, and asked him what play was played that day. He being angry to be staied on so frivolous a demand, answered that he might see what play was to be plaied upon every poste. I cry you mercy, said the gentleman, I took you for a poste, you rode so fast.” Taylor's Works, p. 183. Ames, in his History of Printing, p. 342, says, that James Roberts [who published some of our author's dramas] printed bills for the players. It appears from the following entry on the Stationers' books, that even the right of printing play-bills was at one time made a subject of monopoly: “Oct. 1587. John Charlewoode.] Lycensed to him by the whole consent of the assistants, the onlye ymprinting of all manner of billes for players. Provided that if any trouble arise herebye, then Charlewoode to beare the charges.”

Note return to page 102 [b] bThis practice did not commence till the beginning of the present century. I have seen a play-bill printed in the year 1697 which expressed only the titles of the two pieces that were to be exhibited, and the time when they were to be represented. Notices of plays to be performed on a future day, similar to those now daily published, are found in the original edition of the Spectators in 1711. In these early theatrical advertisements, our author is always styled the immortal Shakspeare. Hence Pope: “Shakespeare, whom you and every play-house bill “Style the divine, the matchless, what you will &lblank;”

Note return to page 103 [c] cThe titles of the following plays may serve to justify what is here advanced: The most excellent, Historie of the Merchant of Venice. With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Jewe towards the sayd Merchant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three. caskets. As it hath been diverse Times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Servants. Written by William Shakespeare. 1600. M. William Shak-speare: HIS True Chronicle Historie of the Life and Death of King Lear and his three Daughters. With the unfortunate life of Edgar, Sonne and Heire to the Earle of Gloster, and his sullen and assumed humor of Tom of Bedlam: As it was played before the King's Majestie at Whitehall upon S. Stephen's Night in Christmass Hollidayes. By his Majestie's Servants playing usually at the Globe on the Bank-side. 1608. A most Pleasant and Excellent Conceited Comedie of Syr John Falstaffe, and the Merry Wives of Windsor. Entermixed With sundrie variable and pleasing Humors of Sir Hugh the Welch Knight, Justice Shallow, and his wise Cousin Mr. Slender. With the Swaggering Vaine of ancient Pistoll, and Corporal Nym. By William Shakespeare As it hath been divers Times acted By the Right Honourable my Lord Chamberlaine's Servants; Both before her Majestie and else where. 1602. The History of Henrie the Fourth; With the Battell at Shrewsburie, betweene the King and Lord Henrie Percy, surnamed Henry Hotspur of the North. With the humorous conceits of Sir John Falstaffe. Newly corrected by W. Shakespeare. 1598. The TRAGEDIE of King Richard The Third Containing his treacherous Plots, against his brother Clarence: The pittifull Murther of his innocent Nephews: his tiranous usurpation: with the whole course of his detested Life, and most deserved Death As it hath been lately acted by the King's Majesties Servants. Newly augmented By William Shakespeare. 1598. The Late And much-admired Play, called Pericles Prince of Tyre. With the true Relation of the whole Historie, adventures and fortunes of the said Prince: As also, The no less strange and worthy accidents, in the Birth and Life of his Daughter Mariana. As it hath been divers and sundry times acted by His Majestie's Servants at the Globe on the Banck-side. By William Shake-speare. 1609.

Note return to page 104 [d] dNotes from Black-fryars, 1617.

Note return to page 105 [e] eSee The Play-House to be Let: “Player. —There is an old tradition, “That in the time of mighty Tamburlane, “Of conjuring Faustus and the Beauchamps bold, “You poets us'd to have the second day; “This shall be ours, Sir, and to-morrow yours. “Poet. I'll take my venture; 'tis agreed.”

Note return to page 106 [f] f“It is not praise is sought for now, but pence, “Though dropp'd from greasy-apron'd audience. “Clap'd may he be with thunder that plucks bays “With such foul hands, and with squint eyes doth gaze “On Pallas' shield, not caring, so he gains “A cram'd third day, what filth drops from his brains!” Prologue to If this be not a good Play the Devil's in't, 1612. Yet the following passages intimate, that the poet at a subsequent period had some interest in the second day's exhibition: “Whether their sold scenes be dislik'd or hit, “Are cares for them who eat by the stage and wit: “He's one whose unbought muse did never fear “An empty second day, or a thin share.” Prologue to The City Match, a comedy, by J. Mayne, 1639. So, in the prologue to The Sophy, by Sir John Denham, acted at Blackfryars in 1642: “&lblank; Gentlemen, if you dislike the play, “Pray make no words on't till the second day, “Or third be past; for we would have you know it, “The loss will fall on us, not on the poet, “For he writes not for money.”— In other cases, then, it may be presumed, the loss, either o the second or third day, did affect the author.

Note return to page 107 [g] g“But which amongst you is there to be found, “Will take his third day's pawn for fifty pound?” Epilogue to Caius Marius, 1680.

Note return to page 108 [h] h“I must make my boast, though with the most acknowledging respect, of the favours of the fair sex—in so visibly promoting my interest on those days chiefly, (the third and the sixth) when I had the tenderest relation to the welfare of my play.” Southerne's Dedication of Sir Antony Love, a comedy, 1691. Hence Pope: “May Tom, whom heaven sent down to raise “The price of prologues and of plays, &c.”

Note return to page 109 [i] iOn the representation of The Constant Couple, which was performed fifty-three times in the year 1700. Farquhar, on account of the extraordinary success of that play, is said by one of his biographers, to have been allowed by the managers, the profits of four representations.

Note return to page 110 [k] kSoutherne, by this practice, is said to have gained seven hundred pounds by one play.

Note return to page 111 [l] l“One only thing affects me; to think, that scenes invented merely to be spoken, should be inforcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive, is, to do myself the wrong. But since others otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. I have therefore myself set forth this comedie.” Marston's pref. to the Malecontent, 1604.

Note return to page 112 [m] mSee The Defence of Coneycatching, 1592: “Master R. G. [Robert Greene] would it not make you blush—if you sold not Orlando Furioso to the queen's players for twenty nobles, and when they were in the country, sold the same play to lord Admiral's men, for as much more? Was not this plain coneycatching, M. G.?” Oldys, in one of his manuscripts, says, that Shakspeare received but five pounds for his Hamlet; whether from the players who first acted it, or the printer or bookseller who first published it, is not distinguished. It has been observed, that Hamlet is more accurately printed than any other of the quarto editions of our author's plays. In the time of Dryden, it should seem, an author did not usually receive more from his bookseller for a dramatick performance than 20£. or 25£. for, in a letter to his son, he mentions, that the whole emoluments which he expected from a new play that he was about to produce, would not exceed one hundred pounds. The profits of the third night were probably seventy pounds; the dedication produced either five or ten guineas, according to the munificence of the patron; and the rest arose from the sale of the copy. In 1715, Sir Richard Steele sold Mr. Addison's comedy, called The Drummer, to J. Tonson for fifty pounds: and in 1721, Dr. Young received the same price for his tragedy of The Revenge. In the next year, Southerne, who seems to have understood author-craft better than any of his contemporaries, sold his Spartan Dame for the extraordinary sum of 120£. and in 1726, Lintot the bookseller paid the celebrated plagiary, James Moore Smyth, one hundred guineas for a comedy, entitled The Rival Modes. From that time, this appears to have been the customary price for several years; but of late, one hundred and fifty pounds have been given for a new play.

Note return to page 113 [n] nSee the preface to the quarto edition of Troilus and Cressida, 1609: “Had I time I would comment upon it, though it needs not, for so much as will make you think your testerne well bestowed, but for so much worth as even poor I know to be stuft in it.” See also the preface to Randolph's Jealous Lovers, a comedy, 1632: “Courteous reader, I beg thy pardon, if I put thee to the expence of a sixpence, and the loss of half an hour.”

Note return to page 114 [o] o“I did determine not to have dedicated my play to any body, because forty shillings I care not for; and above, few or none will bestow on these matters.” Dedication to A Woman's a Weathercock, a comedy, by N. Field, 1612. See also the Author's Epistle popular, prefixed to Cynthia's Revenge, 1613: “Thus do our pie-bald naturalists depend upon poor wages, gape after the drunken harvest of forty shillings, and shame the worthy benefactors of Helicon.” After the Revolution, five, and sometimes ten, guineas, seem to have been the customary present on these occasions.

Note return to page 115 [p] pThis may be collected from the following verses by J. Mayne, to the memory of Ben Jonson: “He that writes well, writes quick, since the rule's true, “Nothing is slowly done, that's always new; “So when thy Fox had ten times acted been, “Each day was first, but that 'twas cheaper seen.”

Note return to page 116 [q] qDownes the prompter, either speaks of, or alludes to, the custom of raising the price of admission on an author's benefit-night.

Note return to page 117 [r] rSee verses by J. Stephens, to his worthy friend H. Fitz-Jeoffery, on his Notes from Black-fryars, 1617: “&lblank; I must “Though it be a player's vice to be unjust “To verse not yielding coyne, let players know, “They cannot recompence your labour, though “They grace you with a chayre upon the stage, “And take no money of you, nor your page,” So, in The Play-house to be let, by Sir W. Davenant: “Poet. Do you set up for yourselves and profess wit, “Without help of your authors? Take heed, Sirs, “You'll get few customers. “Housekeeper. Yes, we shall have the poets. “Poet. 'Tis because they pay nothing for their entrance.”

Note return to page 118 [s] sThe custom of expressing disapprobation of a play, and interrupting the drama, by the noise of catcals, or at least by imitating the tones of a cat, is probably as ancient as Shakspeare's time; for Decker in his Gul's Horn-book, counsels the gallant, if he wishes to disgrace the poet, “to whew at the childrens' action, to whistle at the songs, and mew at the passionate speeches.”—See also the induction to The Isle of Gulls, a comedy, 1608: “Either see it all or none; for 'tis grown into a custom at plays, if any one rise, (especially of any fashionable sort) about what serious business soever, the rest thinking it in dislike of the play (though he never thinks it) cry—‘mew—by Jesus vile’—and leave the poor heartless children to speak their epilogue to the empty seats.”

Note return to page 119 [t] tSejanus, Catiline, and The New Inn. Of the two former Jonson's Ghost is thus made to speak in an epilogue to Every Man in his Humour, written by Lord Buckhurst, about the middle of the last century: “Hold and give way, for I myself will speak: “Can you encourage so much insolence, “And add new faults still to the great offence “Your ancestors so rashly did commit “Against the mighty powers of art and wit, “When they condemn'd those noble works of mine, “Sejanus, and my best-lov'd Catiline?” The title-page of The New Inn, is a sufficient proof of its condemnation. Another piece of this writer does not seem to have met a very favourable reception; for, Mr. Drummond of Hawthornden (Jonson's friend) informs us, that “when the play of The Silent Woman was first acted, there were found verses, after, on the stage, against him, [the author] concluding, that the play was well named, The Silent Woman, because there was never one man to say plaudite to it.” Drummond's Works, fol. p. 226.

Note return to page 120 [u] uThe term, as well as the practice, is ancient.—See the epilogue to The Unfortunate Lovers, by Sir W. Davenant, 1643: “&lblank; Our poet &lblank; “&lblank; will never wish to see us thrive, “If by an humble epilogue we strive “To court from you that privilege to-day, “Which you so long have had, to damn a play.”

Note return to page 121 [x] xSee ante p. 29 (Note w) Verses addressed to Fletcher on his Faithful Shepherdess.

Note return to page 122 [y] ySee the epistle prefixed to the first edition of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, in 1613.

Note return to page 123 [z] z“Mrs. Barry was the first person whose merit was distinguished by the indulgence of having an annual benefit-play, which was granted to her alone, if I mistake not, first in king James's time; and which became not common to others, till the division of this company, after the death of king William's queen Mary.” Apol. for the Life of Mr. Colley Cibber, p. 96.

Note return to page 124 [a] aSee The Picture, a tragicomedy, by Massinger, 1630: Coris. “How do you like the quality? “You had a foolish itch to be an actor, “And may now strole where you please. Hil. “Will you buy my share?

Note return to page 125 [b] bFrom the following stanza in a poem entitled, I would and I would not, by B. N. 1614, five shares seem to have been thought a considerable emolument for an actor to gain by his performance: “I would I were a player, and could act   “As many parts as come upon the stage, “And in my braine could make a full compact   “Of all that passeth betwixt youth and age; “That I might have five shares in every play, “And let them laugh that bear the bell away.” The actors were treated with less respect than at present, being sometimes interrupted during their performance, on account of supposed personalities; for the same author adds— “And yet I would not; for then do I feare   “If I should gall some goose-cap with my speech, “That he would freat, and fume, and chase, and swear,   “As if some flea had bit him by the breech; “And in some passion or strange agonie “Disturb both me and all the companie.”

Note return to page 126 [c] cTucca. “Fare thee well, my honest penny-biter: commend me to seven shares and a half, [I suppose he means either one of the proprietors, or one of the principal actors] and remember tomorrow —If you lack a service, you shall play in my name, rascals; [alluding to the custom of actors calling themselves the servants of certain noblemen] but you shall buy your own cloth, and I'll have two shares for my countenance.” Poetaster, 1602. Though I have supposed the Globe theatre capable of containing so many persons as to produce somewhat more than thirty-five pounds, twenty pounds was probably esteemed a considerable receipt. I know not indeed whether even this is not rather too highly rated; for we find the whole company received but half that sum from his majesty, for the exhibition of a play at court.— If, however, we suppose twenty pounds to have been an ordinary receipt; that one half of this sum belonged to the proprietors, and that the other half was divided into one hundred shares; the player who had five shares in each play, received ten shillings. Mr. Hart and Mr. Kynaston, both very celebrated actors, had but ten shillings a day, each, at the king's theatre in 1681. See Gildon's Life of Betterton, p. 8. In 1684, when the the duke's and the king's company joined, the profits of acting (we are told by C. Cibber) were divided into twenty shares, ten of which went to the proprietors or patentees, and the other moiety to the principal actors, in different divisions, proportioned to their merit. For several years after the Restoration, (another writer informs us) every whole sharer in Mr. Hart's company got 1000£. per annum. Hist. Histrion. 1699. But of these whole sharers, there were probably not more than two or three, and they must have been proprietors as well as actors.

Note return to page 127 [d] dTaylor, the water-poet, says, that two play-houses on the Bankside, the Rose and the Swan, were frequented daily by three or four thousand people. [See ante p. 36, Note w]. Taking then the lowest number, each of them contained one thousand five hundred persons. The Globe was at least as large as either of these; in the South View of London, as it appeared in 1599, it is larger than the Swan: (the Rose is not there delineated). Supposing, however, this account of Taylor's to have been exaggerated, and that the Globe theatre held but one thousand two hundred persons, if nine hundred paid sixpence a-piece, and three hundred one shilling each, the produce would be 37£. 10s. The theatre in Black-fryars probably did not produce, on any one day, above half that sum. Each of the modern theatres, in Drury Lane and Covent Garden, holds two thousand three hundred persons.

Note return to page 128 [e] eRosc. Anglican. p. 41.

Note return to page 129 [f] fHis majesty occasionally added three pounds six shillings and eight pence, by way of bounty.

Note return to page 130 [g] For this information we are indebted to Mr. Oldys.—See Biog. Brit. article Alleyn. vol. I. p. 153. edit. 1778. From the Diary of Edward Alleyn, I expected to have learned several particulars relative to the ancient stage. But on enquiring for it at Dulwich College, I was informed by the gentleman who has at present the care of the library there, that this curious history of the private life of the founder, which had been preserved in the College for more than a century, had by the unaccountable negligence of some former librarian, been lost within these few years. In Dulwich College there was likewise, formerly, a very valuable collection of old plays, that had been made by Mr. Cartwright, the comedian, (a friend of Edward Alleyn) and bequeathed by him to the Society. It was, I believe, the first collection made in England, and contained above five hundred plays. Mr. Garrick some years ago obtained a few of them, in exchange for some other books; being added to his large collection, which he has ordered, by his Will, to be deposited in the British Museum, they are again appropriated to the use of the publick.

Note return to page 131 [h] hSir George Buck. This writer appears to have composed a treatise concerning the English stage; but I know not whether it was ever printed. See The Third University of England, at the end of Stowe's Annals, p. 1082. edit. 1631: “Of this art [the dramatick] have written largely Petrus Victorius, &c.—as it were in vaine for me to say any thing of the art; besides, that I have written thereof a particular treatise.” If this treatise be yet extant, it would probably throw much light on the present enquiry.

Note return to page 132 *In Jonson's Masque of Christmass, 1616, Burbage and Heminge are both mentioned as managers: “I could ha' had money enough for him an I would ha' been tempted, and ha' let him out by the week to the king's players: Master Burbage has been about and about with me; and so has old Mr. Heminge too; they ha' need of him.”

Note return to page 133 [i] iAnswer to Pope, 1729. This writer says, that Heminge and Condell were printers as well as actors.

Note return to page 134 *Extracts from the Warrant-book of the earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, lord chamberlain of the houshold to king Charles I. post, p. 389.

Note return to page 135 [k] kSee The Antipodes, by Brome, 1638: “&lblank; you, Sir, are incorrigible and “Take licence to yourself to add unto “Your parts your own free fancy, &c.” “&lblank; That is a way, my lord, has been allow'd “On elder stages, to move mirth and laughter.” “&lblank; Yes in the days of Tarlton and of Kempe, “Before the stage was purg'd from barbarism.” The character of the Clown as performed by Kempe, seems to have resembled the Harlequin of the present Italian comedy.

Note return to page 136 [l] lSee The Returne from Parnassus, a comedy, 1606: “Indeed, M. Kempe, you are very famous, but that is as well for workes in print as your part in cue.” Kempe's New Jigge of the Kitchen-stuff Woman was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company, in 1595.9Q1278

Note return to page 137 [m] m“&lblank; what meanes Singer then, “And Pope, the clowne, to speak so boorish, when “They counterfaite the clownes upon the stage?” Humour's Ordinarie, where a man may be verie merie and exceeding well used for his sixpence. (No date.)

Note return to page 138 [n] nHeywood's Apol. for Actors.

Note return to page 139 [o] oApol. for Actors.

Note return to page 140 [p] pSee Wright's Hist. Histrion. 1699.

Note return to page 141 [q] qHist. Histr. and Rosc. Anglican.

Note return to page 142 [r] rHist. Histrion.

Note return to page 143 [s] sSee The Scourge of Folly, printed about 1611: “To honest gamesome Robert Armine, “Who tickles the spleene like a harmless vermin.” “Armine, what shall I say of thee, but this, “Thou art a fool and knave—both?—fie, I miss, “And wrong thee much; sith thou indeed art neither, “Although in shew thou play'st both together.”

Note return to page 144 *See Cynthia's Revels, 1600, in which they both acted.

Note return to page 145 [t] tHist. Histrion.

Note return to page 146 [u] uHist. Histrion.

Note return to page 147 [w] wStowe's Annals, p. 697, edit. 1615.—Among the twelve players who were sworn the queen's servants in 1583, “were two rare men, viz. Thomas Wilson for a quicke delicate, refined extemporal witte, and Richard Tarleton, for a wondrous plentifull pleasant extemporall witt.”

Note return to page 148 [x] xIn The Third Part of K. Henry VI. act III. sc. i. (first folio) the following stage-direction is found: “Enter Sinklo and Humphrey:—In the quarto: “Enter two keepers.”

Note return to page 149 [y] ySee Four Letters and certain Sonnets, [by Gabriel Harvey] 1592, p. 29. —“doubtless it will prove some dainty devise, queintly contrived by way of humble supplication to the high and mightie Prince of darknesse; not dunsically botched up, but right formally conveyed, according to the stile and tenour of Tarleton's president, his famous play of the Seaven Deadly Sinnes; which most dealy [f. deadly] but lively playe I might have seen in London, and was verie gently invited thereunto at Oxford by Tarleton himselfe; of whom I merrily demaunding, which of the seaven was his own deadlie sinne, he bluntly answered, after this manner; By G&wblank; the sinne of other gentlemen, lechery.” Tarleton's Repentance and his Farewell to his Frendes in his Sickness, a little before his death,” was entered on the Stationers' books in October 1589; so that the play of The Seven Deadly Sins must have been produced in or before that year. The Seven Deadly Sins had been very early personified, and introduced by Dunbar, a Scottish writer, (who flourished about 1470) in a poem entitled The Daunce. In this piece they are described as presenting a mask or mummery, with the newest gambols just imported from France. In an anonymous poem called The Kalendar of Shepherds, printed by Wynkyn de Worde, 1497, are also described the Seven Visions, or the punishments in hell of The Seven Deadly Sins. See Warton's Hist. of Eng. Poetry, II. 197, 272.

Note return to page 150 [z] z“If we present a foreign history, the subject is so intended, that in the lives of Romans, Grecians, or others, the vertues of our countrymen are extolled, or their vices reproved—We present Alexander killing his friend in his rage, to reprove rashness; Mydas choked with gold, to tax covetousness; Nero against tyranny, Sardanapalus against luxury, Ninus against ambition.” —Heywood's Apol. for Actors, 1610.

Note return to page 151 [a] aSee the foregoing note.

Note return to page 152 [b] bThe Tragedy of Ninus and Semiramis, the first Monarchs of the World, was entered on the Stationers' books, May 10, 1595. See also note z.

Note return to page 153 [c] cThere appears to have been an antient play on this subject. “Art thou proud? Our scene presents thee with the fall of Phaeton; Narcissus pining in the love of his shadow; ambitious Haman now calling himself a god, and by and by thrust headlong among the devils.” Pride and ambition seem to have been used as synoymous terms. Apol. for Actors.

Note return to page 154 1The word Platt seems to have been used here in the sense of platform. See Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “There is the plat-form, and their hands, my lord, “Each severally subscribed to the same.” It is still used at the theatres, in the same sense. Malone.

Note return to page 155 2The part of Will Foole (an appellation that perhaps took its rise from Will. Summers, fool to king Henry VIII.) was, probably, performed originally by Tarleton, the writer of this piece. In the present plat it appears to have been represented by another actor. This paper, therefore, it is to be presumed, was not written out before 1589, in which year Tarleton died. All the other characters, however, might have been represented by the actors here enumerated, before Tarleton's death. If the person who in this plat is distinguished by his Christian name only [Will], was our author, as seems probable, this circumstance may assist us in our conjectures concerning the time of his first introduction to the theatre. Itys, whom I suppose him to have represented, was, according to the fable, but twelve years old, when he was murdered by his mother. In the present exhibition the author might not think it necessary to follow the mythological story so exactly. If Itys was represented by a young man, it was probably thought sufficient. According to Mr. Rowe, Shakspeare's acquaintance with the stage began a few years after he was married, perhaps about the year 1585. Supposing that he continued in the theatre for a year or two, in obscurity, in 1587, (being then twenty-three years old) he might with sufficient propriety have represented the character of Itys, with whose supposed age, it is probable, few of the audience were precisely acquainted. Shakspeare, being once in possession of the part, might have continued to act it, to the period when the above plat is supposed to have been written out. Malone.

Note return to page 156 [d] dOn the outside of the cover is written, “The Book and Platt, &c.”

Note return to page 157 [e] eOur antient audiences were no strangers to the established catalogue of mortal offences. Claudio, in Measure for Measure, declares to Isabella that of the deadly seven his sin was the least. Spenser, F. Q. canto IV. has personified them all; and the Jesuits, in the time of Shakspeare, pretended to cast them out in the shape of those animals that most resembled them. See note on K. Lear, last edit. vol. ix. p. 467.

Note return to page 158 [f] fTereus.] Some tragedy on this subject most probably had existed in the time of Shakspeare, who seldom alludes to fables with which his audience were not as well acquainted as himself. In Cymbeline he observes that Imogen had been reading the tale of Tereus, where Philomel &c. An allusion to the same story occurs again in Titus Andronicus. A Latin tragedy entitled Progne was acted at Oxford when Queen Elizabeth was there in 1566. See Wood's Hist. Ant. Un Oxon. lib. I. p. 287. col. 2. Heywood, in his Apology for Actors, 1610, has the following passage, from which we may suppose that some tragedy written on the story of Sardanapalus was once in possession of the stage. “Art thou inclined to lust? Behold the fall of the Tarquins in the Rape of Lucrece; the guerdon of luxury in the death of Sardanapalus; &c.” See also note z ante p. 60.

Note return to page 159 [g] g I am led to this supposition by observing that Lord Buckhurst's Gorboduc could by no means furnish such dialogue as many of these situations would require; nor does the succession of scenes, enumerated above, by any means correspond with that of the same tragedy.

Note return to page 160 [h] hFrom this paper we may infer, with some degree of certainty, that the following characters were represented by the following actors: [Table: 5Kb] K. Henry VI. E. of Warwick, Geo. Bryan* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 161 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 162 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 163 ‡This performer, and Kit. i. e. Christopher Beeston, who appears in this exhibition as an attendant Lord, belonged to the same company as Burbage, Condell, &c. See B. Jonson's Every Man in his Humour.

Note return to page 164 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 165 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 166 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 167 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 168 †This name will serve to confirm Mr. Tyrwhitt's supposition in the note to The Taming of a Shrew. Vol. III. p. 404.

Note return to page 169 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 170 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 171 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 172 *The names marked with an asterisk occur on the list of the original performers in the plays of Shakspeare.

Note return to page 173 *From this and the following lines it appears that these verses were intended to be prefixed to the folio edition of our author's plays. Malone.

Note return to page 174 *This, I believe, alludes to some of the company of The Fortune playhouse, who removed to the Red Bull. See a Prologue on the removing of the late Fortune players to The Bull. Tateham's Fancies Theatre, 1640. Malone.

Note return to page 175 *These verses are prefixed to an edition of Shakspeare's poems, 12 mo. 1640. Malone.

Note return to page 176 †These anonymous verses are likewise prefixed to Shakspeare's Poems, 1640. Malone.

Note return to page 177 *This author published a small volume of Epigrams in 1651, among which this poem in memory of Shakspeare is found. Malone.

Note return to page 178 *Milton.

Note return to page 179 *The persons represented in this play (which is in my possession) are—Duke; Fidelio; Aspero; Hortensio; Borgias; Picentio; Count Gismond; Fernese; Bentivoglio; Cosmo; Julio; Captain; Lieutenant; Ancient; two Doctors; an Ambassador; Victoria; Elinor; Isabel; Lesbia.—Scene, Florence. Malone.

Note return to page 180 *Shewing a flower.

Note return to page 181 *The original relater of this story was Luigi da Porto, a gentleman of Vicenza, who died in 1529. His novel did not appear till some years after his death; being first printed at Venice, in octavo, in 1535, under the title of La Giulietta. A second edition was published in 1539. And it was again reprinted at the same place in 1553, (without the author's name) with the following title: Historia nuovamente ritrovata di due nobili Amanti, con la loro pietosa morte; intervenuta gia nella Citta di Verona, nell tempo del Signor Bartolomeo dalla Scala. Nuovamente Stampata—There are same variations in the editions. In an epistle prefixed to this work, which is addressed Alla bellissima e leggiadra Madonna Lucina Savorgnana, the author gives the following account of the manner in which he became acquainted with this story. “Siccome voi stessa vedeste, mentre il cielo verso me in tutto ogni suo sdegno rivolto non ebbe, nel bel principio di mia giovanezza al mestier dell'arme mi diedi, e in quella molti grandi et valorosi uomini seguendo, nella dilettevole vostra patria del Frioli alcun anno mi essercitai; per la quale, secondo i casi, quando privatamente or quinci or quindi servendo, m' era bisogno di andare. Aveva io per continuo uso cavalcando di menar meco uno mio arciero, uomo di forse cinquanta anni, pratico nell' arte e piacevolissimo, e come quasi tutti que' di Verona (ov' egli nacque) sono, parlante molto, et chiamato Peregrino. Questi oltra che animoso et esperto soldate fusse, leggiadro & forse più di quello che agli anni suoi si saria convenuto, innamorato sempre si ritrovava, il che al suo valore doppio valore aggiugneva: onde le più belle novelle & con miglior ordine e grazia si dilettava di raccontare; e massimamente quello che di amore parlavano, che alcun altro, ch' io udissi giammai. Per la qual cosa partendo io da Gradisca, ove in alloggiamenti mi stava, & con costui e due altri miei, forse d' amore sospinto, verso Udine venendo; la quale strada molto solinga, e tutta per la guerra arsa e distrutta in quel tempo era, e molto dal pensiero soppresso e lontano dagli altri venendomi, accostatomisi il detto Peregrino, come quello che i miei pensieri indovinava, così mi disse: Volete voi sempre in trista vita vivere, perchè una bella crudele, altramente mostrando, poco vi ami? E benchè contro a me stesso dica, pure perchè meglio sì danno, che non si ritengono, i consigli, vi dirò, Patron mio, che oltra che a voi nell' essercizio, che siete, lo star molto nella prigion d' amore si disdica; sì tristi son quasi tutti i fini, a'quali egli ci conduce, ch' è uno pericolo il seguirlo: E in testimonianza di ciò, quando a voi piacesse, potre' io una novella nella mia città avvenuta, che la strada men solitaria, e men rincrescevole ci faria, raccontarvi; nella quale sentireste come due nobili amanti a misera e piatosa morte guidati fossero. E già avendo io fatto segno di udirlo volontieri, egli così cominciò.”

Note return to page 182 *&lblank; the hearer's hart can gesse.] From these words it should seem that this poem was formerly sung or recited to casual passengers in the streets. See also p. 294. l. 34. “If any man be here &c.”

Note return to page 183 *In the original Italian Novel Juliet awakes from her trance before the death of Romeo. Shakspeare has been arraigned for departing from it, and losing so happy an opportunity of introducing an affecting scene. He was misled, we see, by the piece now before us. The curious reader may perhaps not be displeased to compare the conclusion of this celebrated story as it stands in the Giulietta of Luigi da Porto, with the present poem. It is as follows: “A questo ultimo pensiero sì gli fu la fortuna favorevole, che la sera del dì seguente, che la donna era stata seppellita, in Verona, senza esser da persona conosciuto, entrò, e aspettava la notte; e gìa sentendo ogni parte di silenzio piena, al luogo de' frati Minori, ove l'arca era, si ridusse. Era questa Chiesa nella Citadella, ove questi frati in quel tempo stavono: e avvegnacchè dipoi', non sò come, lasciandola, venissero a stare nel borgo di S. Zeno, nel luogo, che ora santo Bernardino si noma, pure fu ella dal proprio santo Francesco già abitata: presso le mura della quale, dal canto di fuori, erano allora luoghi fuori delle chiese veggiamo: uno de' quali antica sepoltura de tutti e Cappelletti era, e nel quale la bella giovane si stava. A questo accostatosi Romeo, (che forse verso le quattro ore esser poteva) e come uomo di gran nerbo, che egli era, per forza il coperchio levatogli, e con certi legni che seco portati aveva, in modo puntellato avendolo, che contra sua voglia chiuder non si poteva, dentro vi entrò, e lo richiuse. Aveva seco il sventurato giovane recato una lume orba, per la sua donna alquanto vedere; la quale, rinchiuso nell' arca, di subito tirò fuori e aperse. Et ivi la sua bella Giulietta tra ossa e stracci di molti morti, come morta vide giacere. Onde immantinente forte piagnendo, così comminciò: O occhi, che agli occhi miei soste, mentre al cielo piacqe, chiare luci! O bocca, da me mille volte sì dolcemente basciata, e dalla quale così saggie parole si udivano! O bel petto che il mio cuore in tanta letizia albergasti! ove io ora ciechi, muti, e freddi vi retrovo? Come senza voi veggo, parlo, o vivo? O misera mia donna, ove sei d' Amore condotta? il quale vuole che poco spazio due tristi amanti e spenga e alberghi? Oimè! questo non mi promise la speranza, e quel desio, che del tuo amore primieramente mi accesero. O sventurata mia vita, a che ti reggi? E così dicendo, gli occhi, la bocca, e'l petto le basciava, ogni ora in maggior pianto abbondando; nel qual diceva: O mura, che sopra mi state, perchè, addosso cadendomi, non fate ancor più brieve la mia vita? Ma perciocche la morte in libertà di ogn' uno esser si vede, vilissima cosa per certo é desiderarla e non prenderla. E così l'ampolla, che con l'acqua velenosissima nella manica aveva, tirata fuori, parlando seguí: Io non sò qual destino sopra miei nimici e da me morti, nel lor sepolchro a morire mi conduca; ma posciachè, o anima mia, presso alla donna nostra così giova il morire, ora moriamo: e postasi a bocca la cruda acqua nel suo petto tutta la ricevette. Dapoi presa l' amata giovane, nelle braccia forte stringendola, diceva: O bel corpo ultimo termine di ogni mio desio, se alcun sentimento dopo il partir dell' anima ti é restato, o se ella il mio crudo morir vede, priego che non le dispiaccia, che non avendo io teco potuto lieto e palese vivere, almen secreto e mesto teco mi muoja: e molto stretto tenendola, la morte aspettava. Già era giunta l'ora, che il calor della giovane la fredda e potente virtù della polvere dovesse avere estinta, e ella svegliarsi; perchè stretta e dimenata da Romeo, nelle sue braccia si destò, e risentitasi, dopo un gran sospiro, disse: Oimè, ove sono? chi mi stringe? misera me! chi mi bascia? e credendo che questi frate Lorenzo fusse, gridò: A questo modo, frate, serbate la fede a Romeo? a questo modo a lui mi condurrete sicura?—Romeo la donna viva sentendo, forte si maravigliò, e forse di Pigmalione ricordandosi, disse: Non mi conoscete, o dolce donna mia? Non vedete che io il tristo vostro sposo sono, per morire appo voi, da Mantova quì solo e secreto venuto? La Giulietta nel monumento vedendosi, e in braccio ad uno che diceva essere Romeo sentendosi, quasi fuori di sè stessa era, et da sè alquanto sospintolo, e nel viso guatatolo, e subito riconosciutolo, abbracciandolo, mille basci gli donò, e disse— Qual schiochezza vi fece quà entro, e con tanto pericolo, entrare? Non vi bastava per le mie lettere avere inteso, come io mi dovea, con lo aiuto di frate Lorenzo, finger morta, e che di brieve sarei stata con voi? Aliora il tristo giovane, accorto del suo gran fallo, incomenciò: Oh misera la mia sorte, oh sfortunato Romeo, oh vieppiù di tutti gli altri amanti dolorosissimo! io di ciò vostre lettere non ebbi: e quivi le raccontò, come Pietro la sua non vera morte per vera gli disse; onde credendola morta, aveva, per farle morendo compagnia, ivi presso lei tolto il veleno: il quale, come acutissimo, sentiva che per tutte le membra la morte gli cominciava mandare. La sventurata fanciulla questo udendo, sì dal dolore vinta restò, che altro che le belle sue chiome, e l'innocente petto battersi e stracciarsi fare non sapeva: e a Romeo, che già resupino giacea, basciandolo spesso, un mare delle sue lagrime gli spargea sopra; e essendo più pallida che la cenere divenuta, tutta tremante, disse— Dunque nella mia presenza e per mia cagione dovete, signor mio, morire? E il Cielo concederà, che dopo voi (benchè poco) io viva? Misera me! almeno a voi la mia vita potessi io donare, e sola morire. Al la quale il giovine con voce languida rispose—Se la mia fede e'l mio amore mai caro vi fu, viva speme mia, per quello vi priego, che dopo me non vi spiaccia la vita, se non per altra cagione, almen per poter pensare di colui, che del vostro amore preso, per voi, dinanzi a' bei vostri occhi, si muore. A questo rispose la donna—Se voi per la mia finta morte morite, che debbo io per le vostra non finta fare? Dogliomi solo, che io quì ora dinanzi a voi non abbia il modo di morire, e a me stessa, perciocchè tanto vivo, odio porto; ma io spero bene che non passerà molto, sì come stata sono cagione, cosi saró della vostra morte compagna:—e con fatica, queste parole finite, tramortita si cadde: e risentitasi, andava miseramente con la bella bocca gli estremi spirti del suo caro amante raccogliendo; il qual verso il suo fine a gran passo caminava. In questo tempo avea frate Lorenzo inteso, come e quando la giovane la polvere bevuta avesse, et che per morta era stata seppellita: e sapendo il termine esser giunto, nel quale le detta polvere la sua virtù finiva, preso un suo fidato compagno, forse un' ora innanzi al giorno all' arca venne. Alla qual giungendo e ella piagnere e dolersi udendo, per la fessura del coperchio mirando, e un lume dentro vedendovi, maravigliatosi forte, pensó che la giovane, a qualche guisa, la lucerna con essa lei ivi entro portata avesse, e che svegliata, per tema di alcun morto, o forse di non star sempre in quel luogo rinchiusa, si rammaricasse, e piagnesse in tal modo. E con l'aita del compagno prestamente aperta la sepoltura, vide Giulietta, la quale, tutta scapigliata e dolente, s'era in sedere levata, et il quasi morto amante nel suo grembo recato s'avea; alla quale egli disse: Dunque temevi, figliuola mia, che io quì dentro ti lasciasci morire? E ella il frate vedendo, e il pianto raddoppiando, rispose— Anzi temo io, che voi con la vita me ne traggiate. Deh, per la pietà di Dio, reserrate il sepolchro, e andatevene, in guisa che io quì mi muoja: ovvero porgetemi un coltello, che io nel mio petto ferendo, di doglia mi tragga. Oh padre mio, oh padre mio, ben mandaste la lettera! Ben sarò io maritata! Ben me guidarete a Romeo. Vedetelo quì nel mio grembo gia morto. E raccontandogli tutto il fatto, glielo mostrò. Frate Lorenzo queste cose undendo, come insensato si stava; e mirando il giovine, il qual per passare di questa all' altra vita era, forte piagnendo, lo chiamò, dicendo: O Romeo, qual sciagura mi t'ha tolto? parlami alquanto: drizza a me un poco gli occhi tuoi? O Romeo, vedi la tua carissima Giuilietta, che ti prega che la miri; perchè non respondi almeno a lei, nel cui bel grembo ti giaci? Romeo al caro nome della sua donna, alzò alquanto gli languidi occhi dalla vicina morte gravati, e vedutala, gli richiuse: e poco dipoi per le sue membra la morte discorrendo, tutto torcendosi, fatto un breive sospiro, si mori.” Morto nella guisa che divisato vi ho il misero amante, dopo molto pianto, già vicinandosi il giorno, disse il frate alla giovane—E tu Giulietta, che farai? la qual tostamente rispose—morrommi quì entro. Come, figliuola, disse egli, non dire questo; esci fuori, che quantunque non sappia che di te farmi, pur non ti mancherà il rinchiuderti in qualche santo monistero, et ivi pregar sempre Dio per te e per lo morto tuo sposo, se bisogno ne ha. Al qual disse la donna: “Padre, altro non vi domando io che questa grazia, la quale per lo amor che voi alla felice memoria de costui portaste, (e mostrogli Romeo) mi farete volentieri, e questo fie, di non far mai palese la nostra morte: acciocchè gli nostri corpi possano insieme sempre in questo sepolchro stare; et se per caso il morir nostro si risapesse, per lo già detto amore, vi priego che i nostri miseri padri, in nome di ambo noi, vogliate pregare, che quelli, i quali Amore in uno stesso fuoco arse, e ad una istessa morte condusse, non sia loro grave in uno istesso sepolchro lasciare. E voltatasi al giacente corpo di Romeo, il cui capo sopra uno origliere, che con lei nell' arca era stato lasciata, posto aveva, gli occhi meglio rinchiusi avendogli, e di lagrime il freddo volto bagnandogli, disse—Che debbo io senza te in vita più fare, Signor mio? E che altro mi resta verso te, se non con la mia morte seguirti? niente altro certo: acciocchè da te, dal quale la morte solo mi poteva separare, la istessa morte separare non mi possa. E detto questo, la sua gran sciagura nell' animo recatasi, e la perdita del caro amante ricordandosi, deliberando di più non vivere, raccolto a sè il fiato, e per bono spazio tenutolo, e poscia con un gran grido fuori mandando, sopra il morto corpo morta ricadde.”

Note return to page 184 *Don Quix. lib. i. c. 6. “Valame Dios, dixo el Cura, dando una gran voz, que aqui estè Tirante el Blanco! Dadmele acà, compadre, que hago cuenta que he hallado en èl un tesoro de contento, y una mina de passatiempos. Aqui està Don Quirieleyson de Montalvan, valeroso Cavallero, y su hermano Tomas de Montalvan, y el Cavallero Fonseca, con la batalla que el valiente Detriante [r. de Tirante] hizo con el alano, y las agudezas de la Donzella Plazer de mi vida, con los amores y embustes de la viuda Reposada, y la Señora Emperatriz, enamorada de Hipolito su escudero.” Aqui està Don Quirieleyson &c. Here, i. e. in this romance of Tirante el Blanco, is Don Quirieleyson &c.

Note return to page 185 10911C21 Add at the beginning of note x. p. 17. of the present volume.] That scenes had not been used in the publick theatres in Shakspeare's time, may be fairly inferred from Heywood's preface to his Love's Mistress, a comedy, printed in 1636. “For the rare decorements (says he) which new apparell'd it [Love's Mistress] when it came the second time to the royal view, (her gracious majesty then entertaining his highness at Denmark House upon his birth-day,) I cannot pretermit so give a due character to that admirable artist Mr. Inigo Jones, master surveyor of the king's worke &c. who to every act, nay almost to every scene by his excellent inventions gave such an extraordinary lustre; upon every occasion changing the stage to the admiration of all the spectators.” If in our author's time the publick stage had been changed, or, in other words, had the Globe and Blackfryars playhouses been furnished with scenes, would they have created so much admiration at a royal entertainment in 1636, twenty years after his death? Malone.

Note return to page 186 10911C22 Add to note x, p. 29. of this volume.] It is however one of Prynne's arguments against the stage, in the invective which he published about eight years after the date of this piece, that “the ordinary theatrical interludes were usually acted in over-costly effeminate, fantastick and gawdy apparel. Histriomast. p. 216. But little credit is to be given to that voluminous zealot, on a question of this kind. As the frequenters of the theatre were little better than incarnate devils, and the musick in churches the bleating of brute beasts, so a piece of coarse stuff trimmed with tinsel was probably in his opinion a most splendid and ungodly dress. Malone.

Note return to page 187 10911C23 Add at the beginning of note a, p. 30. of this volume.] Though there is reason to believe that in our author's time no second piece was exhibited after the principal performance, similar to the modern farce, it appears that a jig (a kind of ludicrous metrical composition) was a customary entertainment, after tragedies at least.—“Now as after the cleare streame hath glided away in his owne current, the bottom is muddy and troubled; and as I have often seen after the finishing of some worthy tragedy or catastrophe in the open theatres, that the sceane, after the epilogue, hath been more black, about a nesty bawdy jigge, then the most horrid scene in the play was; the stinkards speaking all things, yet no man understanding any thing; a mutiny being amongst them, yet none in danger; no tumult, and yet no quietness; no mischiefe begotten, and yet mischiefe borne; the swiftness of such a torrent, the more it over-whelms, breeding the more pleasure; so after these worthies and conquerors had left the field, another race was ready to begin, at which though the persons in it were nothing equal to the former, yet the shoutes and noyse at these was as great, if not greater.” A strange Horse-race, by Thomas Decker, 1613. [In the text therefore, instead of—Had any shorter pieces been exhibited after the principal performance, I should have said—Had any shorter pieces, of the same kind as our modern farces, been exhibited &c.] Malone.

Note return to page 188 10911C24Add to note b, p. 31. of this volume.] At a subsequent period we hear only of dancing between the acts. See Beaumont's Verses to Fletcher on his Faithful Shepherdess: “Nor want there those who, as the boy does dance “Between the acts, will censure the whole play.” Malone.

Note return to page 189 10911C25Add to note q, p. 34. of this volume.] See also A Sermon preached at Paule's Crosse on St. Bartholomew day, being the 24. of August, 1578. By John Stockwood:—“Will not a fylthie playe with the blast of a trumpette sooner call thyther [to the country] a thousande, than an houre's tolling of a bell bring to the sermon a hundred? Nay even heere in the citie, without it be at this place, and some other certaine ordinarie audience, where shall you find a reasonable company? Whereas if you resorte to the Theatre, the Curtaine, and other places of playes in the citie, you shall on the Lord's day have these places, with many other that I can reckon, so full as possible they can throng.” From the same discourse it appears that there were then eight theatres open.—“For reckoning (says the preacher) with the leaste the gaine that is reaped of eight ordinarie places in the citie (which I knowe), by playing but once a weeke, (whereas many times they play twice, and sometimes thrice,) it amounteth to two thousand pounds by the yeare; the suffering of which waste must one day be answered before God.” According to this account each of the eight theatres, by playing once a week, gained at the end of the year two hundred and fifty pounds; that is, near five pounds by every performance.—But the account was probably exaggerated. Malone.

Note return to page 190 10911C26Add to note r, p. 34. of this volume.] However, in the Refutation of the Apologie for Actors, by J. G. quarto, 1615, it is asked, “if plays do so much good, why are they not suffered on the Sabbath, a day select whereon to do good.” From hence it appears that plays were not permitted to be publickly acted on Sundays in the time of James I.—Perhaps Withers only alluded to private representations. Malone.9Q1282

Note return to page 191 10911C27Add to note u, p, 35. of this volume.] So, in the Gul's Hornbook, 1609: “By this time the parings of fruit and cheese are in the voyder; cards and dice lie stinking in the fire; the guests are all up; the guilt rapiers ready to be hang'd; the French lacquey and Irish foote-boy shrugging at the doores with their masters' hobby-horses to ride to the new play;—that's the rendevous—thither they are gallopt in post: let us take a pair of oars and row lustily after them.” Malone.

Note return to page 192 10911C28P. 58. of this vol. After l. 17.] To this last of actors is likewise to be added the infamous Hugh Peters, who, after he had been expelled the University of Cambridge, went to London, and enrolled himself as a player in Shakspeare's company, in which he usually performed the part of a Clown† [Subnote: †Arbitrary Government displayed to the Life, in the illegal Transactions of the late Times under the tyrannick Usurpation of Oliver Cromwell, p. 98. edit. 1690. Malone.] . Malone.

Note return to page 193 10911C29P. 76. of this vol. After the quotation from Shirley's prologue to the Sisters, add] See also Sheppard's Epigrams, 1651: “Two happy wits lately bright shone, “The true sons of Hyperion, “Fletcher and Beaumont; who so wrot, “Jonson's fame was soon forgot; “Shakspeare no glory was allow'd, “His sun quite shrunk beneath a cloud.” Malone.

Note return to page 194 *The following papers are added as tending to throw some light on the Account of the ancient English Theatres and Actors, ante p. 1. &c. The greater part of them are now first printed. Malone.

Note return to page 195 *Numb. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. are transcribed from the Warrant-book of the earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, lord chamberlain of the houshold to king Charles I.

Note return to page 196 †Henry Condell, not being here mentioned, was probably at this time dead.

Note return to page 197 *From hence it appears that the king's players even at this time usually acted at Blackfryars in the day-time;—that at Court they usually represented plays in the evening; and in that case, as the performance did not interfere with their ordinary publick exhibition, they were only paid ten pounds (which it appears from the council-books was the stated payment so far back as in the time of queen Elizabeth); but when they acted at Whitehall by day-light, or went to Hampton Court &c. so that they could not have any play publickly represented the same day, they received twenty pounds. We may therefore infer that the former sum was the utmost produce of any one representation at the Blackfryars theatre. This and all the subsequent warrants being in favour of Lowen, Taylor, and others, it is probable that John Heminge was at this time dead, or had retired from the stage.

Note return to page 198 *This is entitled in the margin—A Player's Pass.

Note return to page 199 †In another warrant, he is mentioned, with ten others, as a dependant on the players—“employed by his Majesty's servants at Blackfryers, and of special use unto them, both on the stage and otherwise.”

Note return to page 200 *The foregoing is entitled in the margin, Cockpitt Playes appropried.

Note return to page 201 *From the original. Of this paper (which remained for a considerable time in the hands of the Killigrew family, and is now in the possession of Mr. Reed of Staple Inn, by whom it was obligingly communicated to the editor,) the superscription is lost; but it was probably addressed to the lord Chamberlain or the king, about the year 1678.

Note return to page 202 †In an indenture tripartite dated 31. Dec. 1666, between Thomas Killigrew and Henry Killigrew his son and heir, of the first part, Thomas Porter Esq. of the second part, and Sir John Sayer and Dame Katharine his wife, of the third part, it is recited (inter alia) “that the profits arising by acting of plays, masques, &c. then performed by the company of actors called the king and queen's players, were, by agreement amongst themselves and Thomas Killigrew, divided into twelve shares and three quarters of a share—and that Thomas Killigrew was to have two full shares and three quarters. And by agreement between Henry and Thomas—Henry was to have 4£. per week out of the two shares of Thomas, except such weeks when the players did not act.” From the emoluments which Dryden is here said to have received by his share and a quarter, the total profits of the theatre at this time should seem to have been about 4000£. per annum. So that the writer who asserts that every whole sharer in Mr. Killigrew's company received 1000£. a year [ante, p. 48.] must have been misinformed.

Note return to page 203 *Of this nobleman few particulars are known. However, the circumstances of his having been the most intimate friend of the Earl of Essex, and, according to tradition, the liberal benefactor of Shakspeare, have endeared his memory to posterity. His grandfather, the first Earl, was Lord Chancellor in the time of king Henry VIII. His father, who died in 1583, was a Roman Catholick, and a strenuous partizan of Mary queen of Scots. In what year our great poet's patron was born, is uncertain. He accompanied Lord Essex as a volunteer, on the expedition to Cadiz in 1597, and afterwards attended him to Ireland as General of the horse; from which employment he was dismissed by the peremptory orders of queen Elizabeth, who was offended with him for having presumed to marry Miss Elizabeth Vernon [in 1596] without her majesty's consent; which, in those days, was esteemed a heinous offence. When lord Essex, for having returned from Ireland without the permission of the queen, was confined at the lord Keeper's house, lord Southampton withdrew from court. At this period, a circumstance is mentioned by a writer of that time, which corresponds with the received account of his admiration of Shakspeare. “My lord Southampton and lord Rutland (says Rowland Whyte, in a letter to Sir Robert Sydney, Sydney Papers, vol. II. p. 132.) come not to the court [at Nonsuch]. The one doth but very seldome. They pass away the tyme in London, merely in going to plaies every day.” This letter is dated in the latter end of the year 1599. Being condemned for having joined the earl of Essex in his wild project, that amiable nobleman generously supplicated the lords for his unfortunate friend, declaring at the same time that he was himself not at all solicitous for life; and we are told by Camden, who was present at the trial, that lord Southampton requested the peers to intercede for her majesty's mercy (against whom he protested that he had not any ill intention) with such ingenuous modesty, and such sweet and persuasive elocution, as greatly affected all who heard him. He for some time remained doubtful of his life, but at length was pardoned: yet he was confined in the Tower during the remainder of queen Elizabeth's reign. Bacon mentions, in one of his letters, that upon her death he was much visited there. On the 10th of April 1603, he was released; king James, at the same time that he sent the order for his enlargement, honouring him so far as to desire him to meet him on his way to England. Soon afterwards his attainder was reversed, and he was installed a Knight of the Garter. By the machinations of the earl of Salisbury, the great adversary of Essex, it is supposed king James was persuaded to believe that too great an intimacy subsisted between lord Southampton and his queen; on which account (though the charge was not avowed, disaffection to the king being the crime alleged,) he was apprehended in the latter end of June, 1604; but there being no proof whatever of his disloyalty, he was immediately released. In 1614, we find him with lord Herbert of Cherbury at the siege of Rees, in the dutchy of Cleve. He had before been constituted captain of the Isle of Wight and of Carisbroke castle, and in 1619 was appointed a privy counsellor. Two years afterwards, having joined the popular party, who were justly inflamed at the king's supineness and pusillanimity in suffering the Palatinate to be wrested from his son-in-law, he was committed to the custody of the dean of Westminster, at the same time that the earl of Oxford and Sir Edward Coke were sent to the Tower. After his enlargement, he went to the Low Countries, where he died on the 10th of Nov. 1624. There is a portrait of this nobleman at Bulstrode, (a seat of the duke of Portland's,) with a cat that was with him in the Tower; and another at Woburn Abbey, painted by Mierevelde. The print in the opposite page, was engraved after one done by Simon Pass in the year 1617, probably from a picture of Miervelde's also, painted perhaps when Lord Southampton was in the Netherlands. There is a strong resemblance between this print and the picture at Woburn; with which it corresponds in many particulars. Malone.

Note return to page 204 1Our author himself has told us that this poem was his first composition. It was entered in the Stationers' books by Richard Field, on the 18th of April 1593; and again by—Harrison, sen. of the 23d of June, 1594; in which year I suppose it to have been published, though I have not met with an edition of so old a date. The earliest copy that I have seen, was printed by John Harrison in 12mo, 1600, with which I have been furnished by the kindness of the rev. Dr. Farmer. There were however, I believe, two editions before this; for it is likewise entered on the Stationers' books by W. Leake, June 23, 1596; and is frequently alluded to by writers between the year 1594, and 1600.—As the soul of Euphorbus (says Meres in his Wit's Treasury, 1598,) was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweet, witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakspeare. Witness his Venus and Adonis, his Lucrece &c.”— In the early part of our author's life, his poem seem to have gained him more reputation than his plays;—at least they are oftner mentioned, or alluded to. Thus the author of an old comedy called The Return from Parnassus, written about the year 1602, in his review of the poets of the time, says not a word of his dramatick compositions, but allots him his portion of fame solely on account of the poems that he had produced. When the name of William Shakspeare is read, one of the characters pronounces this eulogium: “Who loves Adonis' love, or Lucrece' rape? “His sweeter verse contains heart-robbing life; “Could but a graver subject him content, “Without love's foolish lazy languishment.” In England's Helicon, 1600, is a short piece, entitled The Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis, subscribed with the letters H. C. (probably Henry Constable), which, I believe, was written before Shakspeare's poem. Malone.

Note return to page 205 2Rose-cheek'd Adonis &lblank;] So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; bring down the rose-cheek'd youth “To the tub-fast and the diet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 206 3More white and red than doves or roses are;] Thus all the copies. We might better read (as Dr. Farmer observes to me): &lblank; than doves and roses are. I think it probable, however, that for this slight inaccuracy the author and not the printer is answerable. Malone.

Note return to page 207 4Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,] With this contest between art and nature &c. I believe every reader will be surfeited before he has gone through the following poems. The lines under the print of Noah Bridges, engraved by Faithorne, have the same thought: “Faithorne, with nature at a noble strife &c. It occurs likewise in Timon of Athens. Steevens.

Note return to page 208 5Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “And when she dies, with beauty dies her store.” Steevens.

Note return to page 209 6Here come and sit, where serpent never hisses,] Thus, Rowe in his Jane Shore: “Where no rude swains her shady cell may know, “No serpents climb” &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 210 7And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety, But rather famish them amid their plenty,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; other women cloy “The appetites they feed; but she makes hungry “Where most she satisfies.” Malone.

Note return to page 211 8&lblank; she seizeth on his sweating palm, The precedent of pith and livelihood,] So, in Anthony and Cleopatra, Charmian says: “&lblank; if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 212 9&lblank; her 'miss;] That is, her misbehaviour. Farmer. The same substantive is used in the 35th Sonnet: “My self corrupting, salving thy amiss.” Again, in Hamlet: “Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.” Again, in Lilly's Woman in the Moon, a comedy, 1597: “Pale be my looks, to witness my amiss.” Malone.

Note return to page 213 1Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone,] To tire is to peck. So, in Decker's Match me in London, a comedy, 1631: “&lblank; the vultur tires “Upon the eagle's heart.” Malone.

Note return to page 214 2Forc'd to content &lblank;] That is, to content or satisfy Venus; to endure her kisses. So, in Hamlet: &lblank; It doth much content me “To hear him so inclin'd.” Perhaps, however, the author wrote: Forc'd to consent, &lblank; Malone It is plain that Venus was not so easily contented. Forc'd to content, I believe, means that Adonis was forced to content himself in a situation from which he had no means of escaping. Thus Cassio in Othello: “So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content.” Steevens.

Note return to page 215 3&lblank; flowers, So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.] So, in Macbeth: “To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 216 *&lblank; to a river that is rank,] Full; abounding in the quantity of its waters, So, in Julius Cæsar: “Who else must be let blood, who else is rank.” Malone.

Note return to page 217 4For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;] Thus the old copies. I think the poet wrote air. The two words were, I believe, in the time of our author, pronounced alike; and hence perhaps arose the mistake. See a subsequent passage, in which the former word occurs; p. 411. stanza 1. Malone. This is turning Venus into a mere recitative-singer. The poet very plainly tells us that she entreats and laments prettily, because she is conscious that her entreaties and lamentations are addressed to a pretty ear. She strives to make her discourse correspond with the beauty of its object. So, the Queen in Hamlet, addressing herself to the corpse of Ophelia: “Sweets to the sweet!” Besides, is it usual to talk of tuning any thing to an air? Steevens. If my conjecture be right, Shakspeare, in making Venus tune her tale to a pleasing air, or, in others words, woo Adonis with that melody of voice which renders even beauty itself more attractive, only used the same language that he has employed in other places. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame.” Again, more appositely, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; to their instruments “Tune a deploring dump.” Tuning a tale to a pretty air, is reciting a story with harmonious cadence—as the words of a song are recited with the accompaniment of musick. Malone.

Note return to page 218 5Her best is better'd &lblank;] This is the reading of the edition in 1600. That of 1636 and the modern editions read—breast. Malone.

Note return to page 219 6And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.] So in Titus Andronicus: “&lblank; kiss for kiss “Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: “Oh were the sum of these that I should pay “Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.” Steevens.

Note return to page 220 7To coy, to wanton, &c.] So, in The Midsummer Night's Dream: “While I thy amiable cheeks do coy.” See note on that passage, last edit. Vol. III. p. 89, 90. Steevens.

Note return to page 221 8&lblank; servile to my coy disdain.] So, in Measure for Measure: “Servile to all the skiey influences.” Steevens.

Note return to page 222 9&lblank; and lacking juice,] The edition of 1600 has—joice. So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562 (ante, p. 304): “That soon my joyceless corps shall yeld up banish'd breath &lblank; The word jucie, as Dr. Farmer informs me, is so pronounced in the midland counties. Malone.

Note return to page 223 1&lblank; I will enchant thine ear,] It appears from the corresponding rhime, that this word was formerly pronounced as if it were written air. In our author's native county it is still so pronounced by the vulgar. Malone.

Note return to page 224 2Or, like a nymph, with long dishevel'd hair, Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:] So, in The Tempest: “And ye that on the sands with printless feet “Do chase the ebbing Neptune &lblank; Milton seems to have borrowed this image: “Whilst from off the waters fleet: “Thus I set my printless feet &lblank;” Masque at Ladlow Castle. Malone.

Note return to page 225 3Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse:] Alluding to twinn'd cherries, apples, peaches, &c. which accidentally grow into each other. Thus our author says, king Henry VIII. and Francis I. embraced “as they grew together.” Steevens. Shakspeare, I think, meant to say no more than this; that those things which grow only to [or for] themselves, without producing any fruit, or benefiting mankind, do not answer the purpose for which they were intended. Thus, in a subsequent passage: “So in thyself thyself art made away &lblank;” Again, in our author's 95th Sonnet: “The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, “Though to itself it only live and die.” Again, more appositely, in the present poem: “Poor flower! quoth she, this was thy father's guise, “(Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire) “For every little grief to wet his eyes; “To grow unto himself was his desire, “And so 'tis thine &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 226 4&lblank; young and so unkind?] So, in King Lear, act I. sc. i.: “So young and so untender?” Steevens.

Note return to page 227 5I'll sigh celestial breath, &lblank;] The same expression is found in Coriolanus: “&lblank; Never man “Sigh'd truer breath.” Malone.

Note return to page 228 6The sun that shines from heaven, shines but warm,] The sun affords only a natural and genial heat: it warms, but it does not burn. Malone.

Note return to page 229 7&lblank; but died unkind.] That is, unnatural. Kind and nature were formerly synonymous. So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “And what revenge of old the angry syres did fynde, “Against theyr children that rebeld, and shewd them selfe unkind.” Malone. Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; kindless villain.” i.e. unnatural. Steevens.

Note return to page 230 8What am I, that thou should'st contemn me this?] I suppose, without regard to the exactness of the rhime, we should read— thus. Thus and kiss correspond in sound as well as unlikely and quickly, adder and shudder, which we meet with afterwards. Steevens. That thou should'st contemn me this, means, that thou should'st contemptuously refuse this favour that I ask. Malone.

Note return to page 231 9&lblank; her intendments &lblank;] i. e. intentions. Thus, in Every Man in his Humour: “&lblank; but I, spying his intendment, discharg'd my petronel into his bosom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 232 1She locks her lilly fingers one in one.] Should we not read She locks their lilly fingers, one in one. Farmer. I do not see any need of change.—Venus's arms at present infold Adonis. To prevent him from escaping, she renders her hold more secure, by locking her hands together. Malone.

Note return to page 233 2I'll be the park, and thou shalt be my deer;] I suspect the poet wrote: I'll be thy park, &lblank; The copies, however, all agree in the reading of the text. The same image is found in The Comedy of Errors: “My decayed fair “A sunny look of his would soon repair; “But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, “And feeds from home.” Malone. Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “&lblank; I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 234 3Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale; Graze on my lips;] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “&lblank; unless we feed on your lips.” Malone.

Note return to page 235 4&lblank; where the pleasant fountains lie.] So, Strumbo, in the tragedy of Locrine: “&lblank; the pleasant water of your secret fountain.” Amner.

Note return to page 236 5Controlling what he was controlled with.] So, in K. John: “Controulment for controulment. So answer France.” Steevens.

Note return to page 237 6Upon his compass'd crest &lblank;] Compass'd is arched. A compass'd cieling is a phrase yet in use. Malone. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; she came to him the other day into the compass'd window,” i. e. the bow window. Steevens.

Note return to page 238 7His nostrils drink the air, &lblank;] So, Ariel in the Tempest: “I drink the air before me.” Steevens. Again, in Timon: “&lblank; and through him “Drink the free air.” Malone.

Note return to page 239 8His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, As from a furnace, vapours doth he send;] In this description Shakspeare seems to have had the book of Job in his thoughts. Malone. As from a furnace vapours doth he send;] So, in Cymbeline: “He furnaceth the thick sighs from him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 240 9His flatt'ring holla, &lblank;] This seems to have been formerly a term of the manege. So, in As you like it: “Cry holla to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets unseasonably.” Malone.

Note return to page 241 1His art with nature's workmanship at strife,] So, in Timon of Athens: “It tutors nature: artificial strife “Lives in these touches livelier than life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 242 2To bid the wind a base he now prepares,] Base is a rustick game, sometimes termed prison-base; properly prison-bars. It is mentioned by our author in Cymbeline: “&lblank; lads more like to run “The country base, than to commit such slaughter.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Indeed I bid the base for Protheus.” Malone.

Note return to page 243 3And whêr he run or fly, they know not whether;] Whêr for whether. So, in King John: “Now shame upon thee, whêr he does or no.” Again, in a poem in praise of Ladie P&wblank; Epitaphes, Epigrammes, &c. by G. Turberville, 1567: “If she in Ida had been seene   “With Pallas and the rest, “I doubt where Paris would have chose   “Dame Venus for the best.” Malone.

Note return to page 244 4&lblank; outward strangeness, &lblank;] i. e. seeming coyness, shyness, backwardness. Thus Jachimo, speaking of his servant to Imogen: “He's strange and peevish.” Steevens.

Note return to page 245 5He vails his tail, &lblank;] To vail, in old language, is to lower. So, in Hamlet: “Do not for ever with thy vailed lids “Seek for thy noble father in the dust.” Malone.

Note return to page 246 6Banning &lblank;] i. e. cursing. So, in K. Richard III: “Fell banning hag &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 247 7&lblank; the heart hath treble wrong, When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; the grief that does not speak, “Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.” Steevens.

Note return to page 248 8But when the heart's attorney once is mute, The client breaks, &c.] So in K. Rich. III. “Why should calamity be full of words? “Windy attorneys to their client woes &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 249 9Looks on the dull earth &c.] So, in The Two Gent. of Verona: “She excells each mortal thing “Upon the dull earth dwelling.” Steevens.

Note return to page 250 1And all this dumb play had his acts made plain With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.] From the present passage, I think it probable, that this first production of our author's muse was not composed till after he had left Stratford, and became acquainted with the theatre. Malone.

Note return to page 251 2&lblank; lest thy hard heart do steel it,] So, in Othello: “&lblank; thou dost stone my heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 252 3&lblank; soft sighs can never grave it;] Engrave it, i. e. make an impression on it. Steevens.

Note return to page 253 4Who sees his true love in her naked bed, Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; Cytherea, “How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lilly! “And whiter than the sheets.” Malone.

Note return to page 254 5His other agents aim at like delight?] So also Macbeth expresseth himself to his wife: &lblank; I am settled, and bend up “Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.” Amner.

Note return to page 255 6My love to love is love but to disgrace it;] My inclination towards love is only a desire to render it contemptible.—The sense is almost lost in the jingle of words. Malone.

Note return to page 256 *For I have heard it is a life in death, That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.] So, in K. Rich. III. “For now they kill me with a living death.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “These lovers cry—Oh! oh! they die! “Yet that which seems the wound to kill, “Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!   “So dying love lives still: “Oh! oh! a while; but ha! ha! ha! “Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha!” Malone.

Note return to page 257 7Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?] So, in The Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis, by H. C. (probably Henry Constable) printed in England's Helicon, 1600: “I am now too young “To be wonne by beauty; “Tender are my years, “I am yet a bud.” Malone.

Note return to page 258 8You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,] So, in the song above quoted: “Wind thee from mee, Venus,   “I am not disposed; “Thou wringest me too hard,   “Pr'ithee let me goe: “Fie, what a pain it is   “Thus to be enclosed!” This poem, I believe, preceded that of Shakspeare. Malone.

Note return to page 259 *Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; To love's alarm it will not ope the gate.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “You—to remove that siege of grief from her &lblank;” Again, ibid: “She will not stay the siege of loving terms.” Malone.

Note return to page 260 9&lblank; mermaid's voice &lblank;] Our ancient writers commonly use mermaid for Syren. See note on The Comedy of Errors, last edit. Vol. II. p. 203. Steevens.

Note return to page 261 1&lblank; and invisible;] I suspect that both for the sake of better rhime, and better sense, we should read invincible. These words are mis-printed, alternately one for the other, in K. Henry IV. P. II. and K. John. Steevens. An opposition was, I think, clearly intended between external beauty, of which the eye is the judge, and a melody of voice, (whch the poet calls inward beauty,) striking not the sight but the ear. I therefore believe invisible to be the true reading. Malone.

Note return to page 262 *Say, that the sense of feeling &lblank;] Thus the Duodecimo, 1600. All the modern editions read—reason. Malone.

Note return to page 263 2&lblank; foul flaws &lblank;] i. e. violent blasts of wind. So, in our author's K. Henry IV. P. II: “&lblank; as sudden ‘As flaws congealed in the spring of day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 264 3Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth,,] So, in Hamlet: “But, as we often see against some storm &lblank; “The bold winds speechless, and the orb below “As hush as death, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 265 4Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; that name “Shot from the deadly level of a gun &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 266 *But blessed bankrupt &lblank;] I suspect there is here some corruption. We might better read—And blesed &c. Malone.

Note return to page 267 5Fair fall the wit &c.] So, in K. John: “Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me” Steevens.

Note return to page 268 6Her two blue windows &lblank;] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Downy windows close; “And golden Phœbus never be beheld “Of eyes again so royal.” Malone. This thought is more dilated in Cymbeline: “&lblank; the enclosed lights now canopied “Under these windows:—white and azure! laced “With blue of heaven's own tinct.” Steevens.

Note return to page 269 7&lblank; glorifies the sky,] So, in King John: “Do glorify the banks that bound them in.” Steevens.

Note return to page 270 8&lblank; his hairless face &lblank;] So, in K. John: “This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops.” Steevens.

Note return to page 271 9&lblank; murder'd this poor heart &lblank;] So, in K. Henry V: “The king hath kill'd his heart.” Steevens.

Note return to page 272 1&lblank; their verdure still endure, To drive infection from the dangerous year!] I have somewhere read, that in rooms where plants are kept in a growing state, the air is never unwholesome. Steevens.

Note return to page 273 2Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,] We meet the same image in Measure for Measure: “Take, O take those lips away, “That so sweetly were forsworn; “&lblank; But my kisses bring again “Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.” Malone.

Note return to page 274 *&lblank; for fear of slips,] i. e. of counterfeit money. See note on Romeo and Juliet, edit. 1778. Vol. X. p. 69. “&lblank; what counterfeit did I give you? Mer. “The slip, Sir, the slip &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 275 3A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; And pay them &c.] I suspect the author wrote: A thousand kisses buy, my heart, from me, And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. Malone.

Note return to page 276 4The owl, night's herald, shrieks, &c.] So, in Macbeth: “It was the owl that shriek'd, that fatal bellman “That gives the stern'st good-night.” In Romeo and Juliet, the lark is called the herald of the morn. Steevens.

Note return to page 277 5&lblank; a sweet embrace; Incorporate then they seem; face grows to face.] So, in K. Henry VIII: “&lblank; how they clung “In their embracements, as they grew together.” Steevens.

Note return to page 278 6Forgetting shame's pure blush, and honour's wrack.] Here the poet charges his heroine with having forgotten what she can never be supposed to have known. Shakspeare's Venus may surely say with Quartilla in Petronius: “Junonem meam iratam habeam, si unquam me meminerim virginem fuisse.” Steevens.

Note return to page 279 7While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.] Thus Pope's Eloisa: “Give all thou canst, and let me dream the rest.” Amner.

Note return to page 280 8&lblank; dissolves with temp'ring, And yields at last to every light impression?] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 281 9&lblank; whose leave exceeds commission:] i. e. whose licentiousness. Steevens.

Note return to page 282 1The poor fool &lblank;] This was formerly an expression of tenderness. So, King Lear, speaking of Cordelia: “And my poor fool is hang'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 283 2&lblank; by Cupid's bow she doth protest,] So, in The Midsummer Night's Dream: “I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow.” Malone.

Note return to page 284 3He carries thence incaged in his breast.] Thus the Duodecimo, 1600. So, in K. Richard II: “And yet incaged in so small a verge &lblank;” The edition of 1636 and all the modern copies have engaged. Malone.

Note return to page 285 4The boar! (quoth she) whereat a sudden pale, Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,] So, in The Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis, by H. C. printed in England's Helicon, 1600: “Now he sayd, let's goe,   “Harke the hounds are crying; “Grislie boare is up,   “Huntsmen follow fast. “At the name of boare   “Venus seemed dying: “Deadly-colour'd pale   “Roses overcast.” Malone. Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,] So again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “&lblank; red as roses that on lawn we lay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 286 5&lblank; in the very lists of love,] So also, one Dryden, in his play called Don Sebastian: “The sprightly bridegroom on his wedding night, “More gladly enters not the lists of love.” Amner.

Note return to page 287 6To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy.] To clip in old language is to embrace. Malone.

Note return to page 288 7&lblank; birds deceiv'd with painted grapes,] Alluding to a celebrated work of one of the ancient painters. Steevens.

Note return to page 289 8As those poor birds that helpless berries saw:] Berries incapable of being eaten; with which they could not help themselves. Malone. Helpless berries are berries that afford no help, i. e. nourishment. Steevens.

Note return to page 290 9The warm effects &lblank;] I think we should read affects. So, in Othello: “&lblank; the young affects “In me defunct.” Steevens.

Note return to page 291 1She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Quicken with kissing:—had my lips that power “Thus would I wear them out.” Steevens.

Note return to page 292 *Like to a mortal butcher, &lblank;] Mortal for deadly. Malone.

Note return to page 293 2The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes.] Thus Virgil describing the rapid passage of two centaurs through the woods: “&lblank; dat euntibus ingens “Sylva locum, et magno cedunt virgulta fragore.” Steevens.

Note return to page 294 3&lblank; doth cry, kill, kill;] So, in King Lear: “And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law, “Then kill, kill, kill.” Steevens.

Note return to page 295 4&lblank; bate-breeding &lblank;] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Quickly observes that John Rugby is “no tell-tale, no breed-bate.” Bate is an obsolete word signifying strife, contention. Steevens.

Note return to page 296 5&lblank; love's tender spring,] The tender blossoms of growing love. Printems d'amour. Spring is sometimes used by Shakspeare for a young shoot or plant; but here it clearly has its usual signification. So again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring.” Malone. This canker that eats up love's tender spring,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.” Steevens.

Note return to page 297 6This carry-tale, &lblank;] So, in Love's Labour's lost: “Some carry-tale, some please-man &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 298 7That sometimes true news, sometime false doth bring,] “Tam ficti pravique tenax quam nuntia veri.” Virgil. Steevens.

Note return to page 299 8Doth make them droop with grief, &lblank;] So the edition of 1600. The subsequent copies have drop. Malone.

Note return to page 300 9And fear doth teach it divination:] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “Tell thou thy earl his divination lyes.” Steevens. And fear doth teach it divination: I prophecy thy death, &c.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “O God! I have an ill-devining soul; “Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, “As one dead in the bottom of a tomb.” Malone.

Note return to page 301 1But if thou needs will hunt, be rul'd by me; Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,] So, in The Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis, by H. C. 1600: “Speake, sayd she, no more “Of following the boare, “Thou unfit for such a chase; “Course the feareful hare, “Venison do not spare, “If thou wilt yield Venus grace.” Malone.

Note return to page 302 2&lblank; to over-shut his troubles,] I would read over-shoot, i. e. fly beyond. Steevens.

Note return to page 303 3The many musits through the which he goes,] Musits are said by the lexicographer to be the place where the hare goes for relief. They should, perhaps, rather be described as the windings or mazes by which she endeavours to escape her pursuers. It seems to have been a made word from the verb to muse, which formerly signified to be amazed; to wonder. The modern editions read unfits. Malone. A muset is a gap in a hedge. See Cotgrave's explanation of the French word Trouée. Steevens.

Note return to page 304 4And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer;] Sorteth means accompanies, consorts with. Sort anciently signified a troop, or company. Malone.

Note return to page 305 5&lblank; Echo replies, As if another chase were in the skies.] So Dryden: “With shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky, “And echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.” Steevens.

Note return to page 306 6To one sore sick that hears his passing bell.] This thought is borrowed by Beaumont and Fletcher in Philaster: “&lblank; like one who languishing “Hears his sad bell &lblank; Steevens.

Note return to page 307 7Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,] So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “&lblank; roaming through a thorny wood “Scratching her legs. Steevens.

Note return to page 308 8Unlike thyself, thou hear'st me moralize,] Thus the Duodecimo, 1600. The edition of 1636, and the modern copies read: Unlike myself &lblank; But there is no need of change. Unlike thyself refers to the hunting of the boar, which Venus considers as a rude sport, ill suited to the delicate frame of Adonis. Malone.

Note return to page 309 9In night, quoth she, desire sees best of all.] I verily believe that a sentiment similar, in some sort, to another uttered by that forward wanton Juliet, occurreth here: “Lovers can see to do their amorous rites “By their own beauties.” Amner.

Note return to page 310 1The earth in love with thee, thy footing trips, And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.] So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; lest the base earth “Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss.” Steevens.

Note return to page 311 2&lblank; die forsworn.] i. e. having broken her oath of virginity. Steevens.

Note return to page 312 3Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine,] Shine was formerly used as a substantive. So, in Pericles: “Thou shew'd'st a subject's shine &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 313 4&lblank; defeature;] This word is derived from defaire, Fr. to undo. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “&lblank; strange defeatures in my face.” Steevens.

Note return to page 314 5&lblank; and frenzies wood,] Wood in old language is frantick. Malone.

Note return to page 315 6But in one minute's sight brings beauty under:] Thus the edition of 1600, and those subsequent. Perhaps the author wrote fight. The least of these maladies after a momentary engagement subdues beauty Malone. In one minute's sight is a phrase equivalent to the more modern one—at a minute's warning. King Lear says: “I have seen the time;” Hamlet: “Or ever I have seen that day.” A minute's sight, means while we can take note of a minute, while a minute's space can be perceived or ascertained. Steevens.

Note return to page 316 7Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd, and done,] Done was formerly used in the sense of wasted, consumed, destroyed. So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “Done to death by slanderous tongues.” It still among the vulgar retains the same meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 317 8&lblank; the lamp that burns by night,] i. e. “&lblank; &grl;&grua;&grx;&grn;&gro;&grn; &gres;&grr;&grwa;&grt;&grw;&grn;, “&grK;&gra;&grig; &grg;&graa;&grm;&gro;&grn; &gra;&grx;&grl;&gru;&groa;&gre;&grn;&grt;&gra; &lblank;” Musæus. Steevens.

Note return to page 318 9What is thy body but a swallowing grave,] So, in King Richard II: “&lblank; in the swallowing gulph “Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.” Again, in our author's 77th Sonnet: “The wrinkles which thy glass will truly shew, “Of mouthed graves will give thee memory.” Malone.

Note return to page 319 *&lblank; a swallowing grave, Seeming to bury that posterity &c.] So, in our author's third Sonnet: “&lblank; who is he so fond will be the tomb “Of his self-love, to stop posterity?” Malone.

Note return to page 320 1But gold that's put to use, more gold begets.] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? Shy. “I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast.” Steevens.

Note return to page 321 2When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse.] So, in Hamlet: “And reason panders will.” Steevens.

Note return to page 322 3&lblank; love to heaven is fled, Since sweating lust on earth usurps his name.] This information is of as much consequence as that given us by Homer about one of his celebrated rivers, which, he says, was “Xanthus by name to those of heavenly birth, “But call'd Scamander by the sons of earth.” Steevens.

Note return to page 323 4Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lusi's winter comes ere summer half be done;] So again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “O rash false heat, wrapt in repentant cold! “Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old.” Malone.

Note return to page 324 5My face is full of shame, my heart of teen;] Teen is sorrow. The word is often used by Spenser. Malone.

Note return to page 325 6Mine ears that to your wanton talk attended,] Thus the Duodecimo, 1600. That of 1636, and the modern editions, read, wanton calls. Malone. Mine ears that to your wanton talk attended, Do burn &c.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; I do condemn mine ears, that have “So long attended thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 326 7&lblank; through the dark lawns runs apace,] The modern editors read—lanes. Malone.

Note return to page 327 8Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky,] So, in King Richard II: “I see thy glory like a shooting star.” Again, in The Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; the rude sea grew civil at her song, “And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, “To hear the sea-maid's musick.” Malone. Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “And fly like chiddren Mercury, “Or like a star dis-orb'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 328 9&lblank; as one on shore, Gazing upon a late embarked friend,] Perhaps Otway had this passage in his thoughts when he wrote the following lines: “Methinks I stand upon a naked beach, “Sighing to winds, and to the seas complaining; “While afar off the vessel sails away, “Where all the treasure of my soul's embark'd. Malone. See the scene in Cymbeline where Imogen tells Pisanio how he ought to have gazed after the vessel in which Posthumus was embark'd. Steevens.

Note return to page 329 1Till the wind waves &lblank; Whose ridges &lblank;] So, in King Lear: “Horns welk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 330 2Or 'stonish'd as night wanderers often are,] So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; the wrathful skies “Gallow the very wanderers of the dark.” Steevens.

Note return to page 331 3&lblank; the fair discovery of her way.] I would read—discoverer, i. e. Adonis. Steevens. The old reading appears to me to afford the same meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 332 4Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every call, Soothing the humour of fantastick wits?] But the exercise of this fantastick humour is not so properly the character of wits, as of persons of a wild and jocular extravagance of temper. To suit this idea, as well as to close the rhime more fully, I am persuaded the poet wrote: Soothing the humour of fantastick wights. Theobald. Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every call, Soothing the humour of fantastick wits?] See the scene of “Anon, anon, Sir,” in K. Henry IV. P. I.—Had Mr. Theobald been as familiar with ancient pamphlets as he pretended to have been, he would have known that the epithet fantastick is applied with singular propriety to the wits of Shakspeare's age. The rhime, like many others in the same piece, may be weak, but the old reading is certainly the true one. Steevens.

Note return to page 333 5O thou clear god, &c.] Perhaps Mr. Rowe had read the lines that compose this stanza, before he wrote the following, with which the first act of his Ambitious Stepmother concludes: “Our glorious sun, the source of light and heat, “Whose influence chears the world he did create, “Shall smile on thee from his meridian skies, “And own the kindred beauties of thine eyes; “Thine eyes, which, could his own fair beams decay, “Might shine for him, and bless the world with day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 334 6There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother, May lend thee light, &lblank;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; Her eye in heaven. “Would through the airy region stream so bright, “That birds would sing and think it were not night.” Malone.

Note return to page 335 7Musing the morning is so much o'er-worn,] Musing in ancient language is wondering. So, in Macbeth: “Do not muse at me my most worthy friends.” Malone.

Note return to page 336 8&lblank; she coasteth &lblank;] So, in K. Hen. VI. P. III: “Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, “Will coast my crown.” See note on that passage, last edit. Vol. VI. p. 441. Steevens.

Note return to page 337 9Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ake, Hasting to feed her fawn &lblank;] So, in As you like it: “While like a doe, I go to find my fawn, “And give it food.” Steevens.

Note return to page 338 1Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy,] Ecstacy anciently signified any violent perturbation of mind. So, in Macbeth: “Better be with the dead &lblank; “Than on the torture of the mind to lie, “In restless ecstacy.” Malone. Again, more appositely in The Comedy of Errors: “Mark, how he trembleth in his ecstacy!” Steevens.

Note return to page 339 2Her more than haste is mated with delays,] Is checked, or confounded. So, in Macbeth: “My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight.” The modern editions read marred. Malone.

Note return to page 340 3&lblank; drink tears, &lblank;] So, in Pope's Eloisa: “And drink the falling tears each other sheds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 341 4She vail'd her eye-lids, &lblank;] She lowered or closed her eye-lids. So, in Hamlet: “Do not for ever with thy vailed lids “Seek for thy noble father in the dust.” Malone.

Note return to page 342 5But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,] So, in K. Hen. IV. P. I: “For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes” Steevens.

Note return to page 343 6&lblank; like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,] In this stanza we meet with some traces of Cordelia's sorrow: “&lblank; you have seen “Sunshine and rain at once &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 344 7The dire imagination she did follow] The edition of 1600 reads: The dry imagination &lblank; which was evidently a misprint. The reading of the text was furnished by the copy printed in 1636. Malone.

Note return to page 345 8&lblank; like pearls in glass;] So, in K. Lear: “Like pearls from diamonds dropt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 346 9When as I met the boar, &lblank;] When as and when were used indiscriminately by our ancient writers. Malone.

Note return to page 347 1Her rash suspect she doth extenuate:] Suspect is suspicion. So, in our author's 70th Sonnet: “The ornament of beauty is suspect.” Malone.

Note return to page 348 2Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs; &lblank;] As Venus is here bribing Death with flatteries to spare Adonis, the editors could not help thinking of pompous tombs. But tombs are no honour to Death, considered as a being, but to the parties buried. I much suspect our author intended: Tells him of trophies, statues, domes &lblank; Theobald. This alteration is plausible, but not necessary. Tombs are in one sense honours to Death, inasmuch as they are so many memorials of his triumphs over mortals. Besides, the idea of a number of tombs naturally presents to our mind the dome or building that contains them; so that nothing is obtained by the change. Malone.

Note return to page 349 3&lblank; and stories His victories, his triumphs, and his glories.] This verb is also used in The Rape of Lucrece: “He stories to her ears her husband's fame &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 350 4And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.] The same expression occurs in Othello: “Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, “But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, “Chaos is come again.” Malone.

Note return to page 351 5The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light;] “Illa per intactas segetes, vel summa volaret “Gramina, nec teneras cursu læsisset aristas. Virgil. Steevens.

Note return to page 352 6Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,] So, in Coriolanus: “Thrusts forth his horns again into the world “That were in-shell'd when Marcus stood for Rome.” The former of these passages supports Mr. Tyrwhitt's reading of another. See the Plays of Shakspeare, last edit. Vol. VII. p. 460, and Vol. II. p. 64. Steevens.

Note return to page 353 7&lblank; consort with ugly night,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “To be consorted with the humorous night.” Malone.

Note return to page 354 8Who like a king &lblank; Whereat each tributary subject quakes;] So, in King Lear: “Ay, every inch a king: “When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 355 9As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,] So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “&lblank; oft the teeming earth “Is with a kind of cholick pinch'd and vex'd “By the imprisoning of unruly wind “Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, “Shakes the old beldame earth &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 356 1&lblank; that the boar had trench'd] Trench'd is cut. Trancher, Fr. So, in Macbeth: “Safe in a ditch he bides “With twenty trenched gashes on his head.” Malone.

Note return to page 357 2Dumbly she passions, frantickly she doteth,] This verb is again used by our author in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning “For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight.” Malone.

Note return to page 358 3Whose tongue is musick now? &lblank;] So, in The Comedy of Errors: “That never words were musick to thine ear.” Malone.

Note return to page 359 4&lblank; nor wind will ever strive to kiss you:] So, in Othello: “The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets. Steevens. Again, in The Merchant of Venice: “Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind.” Malone.

Note return to page 360 5Having no fair to lose &lblank;] Fair was formerly used as a substantive, in the sense of beauty. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “My decayed fair “A sunny look of his would soon repair.” See many other instances of this expression in the last edition of our author's plays, Vol. II. p. 180. It appears from the corresponding rhime, and the jingle in the present line, that the word fear was pronounced in the time of Shakspeare as if it were written fare. It is still so pronounced in Warwickshire. Malone.

Note return to page 361 6&lblank; the wind doth hiss you.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; the winds, “Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 362 7Play with his locks; &lblank;] The earliest copy that I have seen, reads lokes. But it was, I think, a misprint. The reading of the text is that of the edition in 1636. Malone.

Note return to page 363 8&lblank; because he would not fear him;] Because he would not terrify him. So, in K. Henry VI. P. I: “For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.” Malone.

Note return to page 364 9&lblank; when he hath sung, The tyger would be tame &lblank;] So, in Othello: “She would sing the savageness out of a bear.” Steevens.

Note return to page 365 1&lblank; urchin-snouted boar,] The urchin is the sea-hedgehog. Malone.

Note return to page 366 2&lblank; the loving swine Sheath'd, unaware, his tusk in his soft groin.] So, in The Sheepheard's Song of Venus and Adonis, 1600: “On the ground he lay, “Blood had left his cheeck, “For an orped [f. o'er-fed] swine “Smit him in the groyne; “Deadly wound his death did bring: “Which when Venus found, “She fell into a swound, “And awak'd her hands did wring.” Malone.

Note return to page 367 3My youth with his;] Thus the Duodecimo, 1600. The edition of 1636, and the modern copies, read—my mouth; which cannot be right, unless our author forgot what he had before written. Adonis had granted her a kiss. “He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth, “(Their lips together glew'd) fell to the earth.” Malone.

Note return to page 368 4&lblank; two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies.] The same want of grammar is discoverable in Cymbeline: “His steeds to water at those springs   “On chalic'd flow'rs that lies.” See note on this passage, last edit. Vol. IX. p. 220. Steevens.

Note return to page 369 5&lblank; this is my spite,] This is done, purposely to vex and distress me. Malone.

Note return to page 370 6Ne'er settled equally, too high, or low;] So, in The Midsummer Night's Dream: “The course of true love never did run smooth &c. “O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 371 7&lblank; to tread the measures;] To dance. So, in K. Rich. III: “Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, “Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.” Malone.

Note return to page 372 8It shall be cause of war, &c.] Several of the effects here predicted of love, in Timon of Athens are ascribed to gold. Steevens.

Note return to page 373 9Was melted like a vapour &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; and what seem'd corporal, melted “Like breath into the wind.” Steevens. Again, in The Tempest: “These our actors, “As I foretold you, were all spirits, and “Are melted into air, into thin air.” Malone.

Note return to page 374 1&lblank; here is my breast,] As Venus sticks the flower to which Adonis is turned, in her bosom, I think we must read against all the copies, and with much more elegance: Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast &lblank; For it was her breast which she would insinuate to have been Adonis' bed. The close of the preceding stanza partly warrants this change: “&lblank; but know it is as good “To wither in my breast, as in his blood.” As the succeeding lines in this stanza likewise do: “Low in this hollow cradle take thy rest.” Theobald. I have received this emendation, as the reading is, I think, more elegant, and the change very small. Malone.

Note return to page 375 2This poem is received as one of Shakspeare's undisputed performances, —a circumstance which recommends it to the notice it might otherwise have escaped. There are some excellencies which are less graceful than even their opposite defects; there are some virtues, which being merely constitutional, are entitled to very small degrees of praise. Our poet might design his Adonis to engage our esteem, and yet the sluggish coldness of his disposition is as offensive as the impetuous forwardness of his wanton mistress. To exhibit a young man insensible to the caresses of transcendent beauty, is to describe a being too rarely seen to be acknowledged as a natural character, and when seen, of too little value to deserve such toil of representation. No elogiums are due to Shakspeare's hero on the score of mental chastity, for he does not pretend to have subdued his desires to his moral obligations. He strives indeed, with Platonick absurdity, to draw that line which was never drawn, to make that distinction which never can be made, to separate the purer from the grosser part of love, assigning limits, and ascribing bounds to each, and calling them by different names; but if we take his own word, he will be found at last only to prefer one gratification to another, the sports of the field to the enjoyment of immortal charms. The reader will easily confess that no great respect is due to the judgment of such a would-be Hercules, with such a choice before him.—In short, the story of Joseph and the wife of Potiphar is the more interesting of the two; for the passions of the former are repressed by conscious rectitude of mind, and obedience to the highest law. The present narrative only includes the disappointment of an eager female, and the death of an unsusceptible boy. The deity, from her language, should seem to have been educated in the school of Messalina; the youth, from his backwardness, might be suspected of having felt the discipline of a Turkish seraglio. It is not indeed very clear whether Shakspeare meant on this occasion, with Le Brun, to recommend continence as a virtue, or to try his hand with Aretine on a licentious canvas. If our poet had any moral design in view, he has been unfortunate in his conduct of it. The shield which he lifts in defence of chastity, is wrought with such meretricious imagery as cannot fail to counteract a moral purpose.—Shakspeare, however, was no unskillful mythologist, and must have known that Adonis was the offspring of Cynaras and Myrrha. His judgment therefore would have prevented him from raising an example of continence out of the produce of an incestuous bed.—Considering this piece only in the light of a jeu d'esprit, written without peculiar tendency, we shall even then be sorry that our author was unwilling to leave the character of his hero as he found it; for the common and more pleasing fable assures us, that “&lblank; when bright Venus yielded up her charms, “The blest Adonis languish'd in her arms.” We should therefore have been better pleased to have seen him in the situation of Ascanius, “&lblank; cum gremio fotum dea tollit in altos “Idaliæ lucos, ubi mollis amaracus illum “Floribus et multa aspirans complectitur umbra;” than in the very act of repugnance to female temptation, self-denial being rarely found in the catalogue of Pagan virtues. If we enquire into the poetical merit of this performance, it will do no honour to the reputation of its author. The great excellence of Shakspeare is to be sought in dramatick dialogue, expressing his intimate acquaintance with every passion that sooths or ravages, exalts or debases the human mind. Dialogue is a form of composition which has been known to quicken even the genius of those who in mere uninterrupted narrative have sunk to a level with the multitude of common writers. The smaller pieces of Otway and Rowe have added nothing to their fame. Let it be remembered too, that a contemporary author, Dr. Gabriel Harvey, points out the Venus and Adonis as a favourite only with the young, while graver readers bestowed their attention on the Rape of Lucrece. Here I cannot help observing that the poetry of the Roman legend is no jot superior to that of the mythological story. A tale which Ovid has completely and affectingly told in about one hundred and forty verses, our author has coldly and imperfectly spun out into near two thousand. The attention therefore of these graver personages must have been engaged by the moral tendency of the piece, rather than by the force of style in which it is related. Steevens. This first essay of Shakspeare's Muse does not appear to me so entirely void of poetical merit as it has been represented. In what high estimation it was held in our author's life-time, may be collected from what has been already observed in the preliminary remark, and from the circumstances mentioned in a note which the reader will find at the end of The Rape of Lucrece. To the other elogiums on this piece may be added the concluding lines of a poem entitled Mirrha the Mother of Adonis; or Lustes Prodegies, by William Barksted, 1607: “But stay, my Muse, in thine own confines keep,   “And wage not warre with so deere lov'd a neighbor; “But having sung thy day-song, rest and sleep;   “Preserve thy small fame, and his greater favor. “His song was worthie merit; Shakspeare, hee “Sung the faire blossome, thou the wither'd tree: “Laurel is due to him; his art and wit “Hath purchas'd it; cyprus thy brows will fit.” Malone.

Note return to page 376 1This argument appearsto have been written by Shakspeare, being prefixed to the original edition in 1594; and is a curiosity, this, and the two dedications to the earl of Southampton, being the only prose compositions of our great poet (not in a dramatick form) now remaining. To the edition of 1616, and that printed by Lintot in 1710, a shorter argument is likewise prefixed, under the name of Contents; which not being the production of our author, nor throwing any light on the poem, is now omitted. Malone.

Note return to page 377 2This poem was first printed in quarto, in the year 1594. It was again published in 1598, 1600, and 1607. All these copies have been collated for the present edition, and they all correspond, excepting such slight variations as repeated impressions necessarily produce. I have heard of editions of this piece likewise in 1596 and 1602, but I have not seen either of them. In 1616 another edition appeared, which in the title-page is said to be newly revised and corrected. When this copy first came to my hands, it occurred to me, that our author had perhaps an intention of revising and publishing all his works, (which his fellow-comedians in their preface to his plays seem to hint he would have done, if he had lived,) and that he began with this early production of his muse, but was prevented by death from completing his scheme; for he died in the same year in which this corrected copy of Lucrece (as it is called) was printed. But on an attentive examination of this edition, I have not the least doubt that the piece was revised by some other hand. It is so far from being correct, that it is certainly the most inaccurate and corrupt of all the ancient copies. In some passages emendations are attempted merely for the sake of harmony; in others, a word of an ancient cast is changed for one somewhat more modern; but most of the alterations seem to have been made, because the reviser did not understand the poet's meaning, and imagined he saw errors of the press, where in fact there were none. Of this the reader will find instances in the course of the following notes; for the variations of the editions are constantly set down. I may likewise add, that this copy (which all the modern editions have followed) appears manifestly to have been printed from the edition in 1607, the most incorrect of all those that preceded, as being the most distant from the original, which there is reason to suppose was published under the author's immediate inspection. Had he undertaken the task of revising and correcting any part of his works, he would surely have made his own edition, and not a very incorrect re-impression of it, the basis of his improvements. The story on which this poem is founded, is related by Dion. Halicarnassensis, lib. iv. c. 72; by Livy, lib. i. c. 57, 58; and by Ovid, Fast. lib. ii. Diodorus Siculus and Dion Cassius have also related it. The historians differ in some minute particulars. Malone.9Q1284

Note return to page 378 3&lblank; did not let] Did not forbear. Malone.

Note return to page 379 4Where mortal stars, &lblank;] i. e. eyes. Our author has the same allusion in The Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; who more engilds the night, “Than all yon firy o's and eyes of light.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “At my poor house look to behold this night “Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light.”. Malone.

Note return to page 380 5Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate, That kings might be espoused to more fame, But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.] Thus the quarto, 1594, and three subsequent editions. The duodecimo, 1616, reads: &lblank; at so high a rate, and in the next line but one, But king nor prince to such a peerless dame. The alteration in the first line was probably made in consequence of the editor's not being sufficiently conversant with Shakspeare's compounded words; (thus, in All's Well that ends Well, we find high-repented blames; and in Twelfth Night, high-fantastical;) in the last, to avoid that jingle which the author seems to have considered as a beauty or received as a fashion. Malone.

Note return to page 381 6&lblank; as soon decay'd and done,] Done is frequently used by our ancient writers in the sense of consumed. So, in Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; wasted, thaw'd, and done, “As mountain snow melts with the mid-day sun.” Malone.

Note return to page 382 7As is the morning's silver-melting dew,] The duodecimo, 1616, and the modern editions, read corruptedly: As if the morning's silver-melting dew. Malone.

Note return to page 383 8An expir'd date, &lblank;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; and expire the term “Of a despised life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 384 9An expir'd date, cancel'd ere well begun:] Thus the quarto, 1594, the editions of 1598, 1600, and 1607. That of 1616 reads, apparently for the sake of smoother versification: A date expir'd, and cancel'd ere begun. Malone.9Q1285

Note return to page 385 1Beauty itself doth of itself persuade The eyes of men without an orator;] So Daniel, in his Rosamond, 1599: “&lblank; whose power doth move the blood “More than the words or wisdom of the wise.” Again, in The Martial Maid, by B. and Fletcher: “&lblank; silent orators, to move beyond “The honey-tongued rhetorician.” Steevens.

Note return to page 386 2&lblank; why is Collatine the publisher Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown From thievish ears, because it is his own?] Thus the old copies. The modern editions read: From thievish cares— Malone. The conduct of Lucretia's husband is here made to resemble that of Posthumus in Cymbeline. The present sentiment occurs likewise in Much ado about Nothing: “&lblank; The flat transgression of a school-boy; who being over-joyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.” Steevens.

Note return to page 387 3Suggested this proud issue of a king;] Suggested, I think, here means tempted, prompted, instigated. So, in K. Richard II: “What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee “To make a second fall of cursed man?” Again, in Love's Labour's Lost: “These heavenly eyes that look into these faults, “Suggested us to make.” Malone.

Note return to page 388 4&lblank; which in his liver glows.] Thus the quarto, 1594. Some of the modern editions have grows.—The liver was formerly supposed to be the seat of love. Malone.

Note return to page 389 5&lblank; wrapt in repentant cold,] The duodecimo, 1600, reads: &lblank; wrapt in repentance cold, but it was evidently an error of the press. The first copy has repentant. Malone. To quench the coal which in his liver glows. &lblank; wrapt in repentant cold,] So, in King John: “There is no malice in this burning coal; “The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, “And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.” Steevens.

Note return to page 390 6Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old!] Like a too early spring, which is frequently checked by blights, and never produces any ripened or wholsome fruit, the irregular forwardness of an unlawful passion never gives any solid or permanent satisfaction. So, in a subsequent stanza: “Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring.” Again, in Hamlet: “For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, “Hold it a fashion and a toy of blood; “A violet in the youth of primy nature, “Forward, not permanent; sweet, not lasting; “The perfume and suppliance of a minute: “No more.” Again, in King Richard III: “Short summers lightly have a forward spring.” Blasts is here a neutral verb. In Venus and Adonis we meet nearly the same sentiment: “Love's gentle spring doth alway fresh remain; “Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.” Malone.

Note return to page 391 7Virtue would stain that or with silver white.] The original edition exhibits this line thus: Virtue would stain that ore with silver white. Ore might certainly have been intended for o'er, (as it is given in the modern copies,) the word over, when contracted, having been formerly written ore. But in this way the passage is not reducible to grammar. Virtue would stain that, i. e. blushes, o'er with silver white.—The word intended was, I believe, or, i. e. gold, to which the poet compares the deep colour of a blush. The terms of heraldry in the next stanza seem to favour this supposition; and the opposition between or and the silver white of virtue is entirely in Shakspeare's manner. So, afterwards: “Which virtue gave the golden age to gild “Their silver cheeks &lblank;” Malone. Shakspeare delights in opposing the colours of gold and silver to each other. So, in Macbeth: “His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood.” We meet with a description, allied to the present one, in Much ado about Nothing: “&lblank; I have mark'd “A thousand blushing apparitions “To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames “In angel whiteness bear away those blushes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 392 8&lblank; in that white intituled,] I suppose he means, that consists in that whiteness, or takes its title from it. Steevens. Our author has the same phrase in his 37th Sonnet: “For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, “Or any of these all, or all, or more, “Intitled in their parts, do crowned sit &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 393 9&lblank; in her fair face's field,] Field is here equivocally used. The war of lilies and roses requires a field of battle; the heraldry in the preceding stanza demands another field, i. e. the ground or surface of a shield or escutcheon armorial. Steevens.

Note return to page 394 1This silent war of lilies and of roses Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses;] There is here much confusion of metaphor. War is, in the first line, used merely to signify the contest of lilies and roses for superiority; and in the third, as an army which takes Tarquin prisoner, and encloses his eye in the pure ranks of white and red. Our authorhas the same expression in Coriolanus: “Our veil'd dames “Commit the war of white and damask in “Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil “Of Phœbus' burning kisses.” Were not the present phraseology so much in Shakspeare's manner, we might read: The silent band of lilies &c. So, a little lower: “The coward captive vanquished doth yield “To those two armies &lblank; Again, in a subsequent stanza: “Fearing some bad news from the warlike band “Where her beloved Collatinus lies.” The copies however all agree in reading war, and I believe they are not corrupt. Malone. If the copies agree in reading war, for once they agree in a true reading. So, in The Taming of a Shrew: “Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? “Such war of white and red within her cheeks!” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “Oh, what a war of looks was then between them!” Steevens.

Note return to page 395 2Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe,] Praise here signifies the object of praise, i. e. Lucretia. To owe in old language means to possess. So, in Othello: “Not poppy, nor mandragora &lblank; “Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep “Which thou ow'dst yesterday.” Malone.

Note return to page 396 3Birds never lim'd no secret bushes fear:] So, in K. Henry VI. P. III: “The bird that hath been limed in a bush, “With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.” Steevens.

Note return to page 397 4Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty:] So, in King Lear: “Robes and furr'd gowns hide all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 398 5Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,] So, Daniel, in his Rosamond: “Ah beauty, Syren, fair enchanting good! “Sweet silent rhetorick of persuading eyes!” Malone.

Note return to page 399 6Writ in the glassy margents of such books;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies, “Find written in the margin of his eyes.” In all our ancient English books, the comment is printed in the margin. Malone.

Note return to page 400 7Nor could she moralize his wanton sight,] To moralize here signifies to interpret, to investigate the latent meaning of his looks. So, in Much ado about Nothing: “You have some moral in this Benedictus.” Malone.

Note return to page 401 8With bruised arms and wreaths of victory:] So, in King Richard III: “Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, “Our bruised arms hung up for monuments.” Malone.

Note return to page 402 9Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Fear, Upon the world dim darkness doth display, And in her vaulty prison stows the day.] Thus the quarto, 1594, and the three subsequent editions. The duodecimo, 1616, without any authority reads thus: Till sable night, sad source of dread and fear, Upon the world dim darkness doth display, And in her vaulty shuts the day. Malone. And in her vaulty prison stows the day.] Stows I believe to be the true, though the least elegant, reading: So, in Hamlet, act IV. sc. i: “Safely stow'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 403 1Intending weariness with heavy spright;] Intending is pretending. So, in King Richard III: “Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, “Intending deep suspicion.” Malone.

Note return to page 404 2For, after supper, long he questioned With modest Lucrece, &lblank;] Held a long conversation. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “I pray you, think you question with the Jew.” Again, in another of our author's plays: “Thy question's with thy equal.” Again, in As you like it: “I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him.” Malone.

Note return to page 405 3&lblank; leaden slumber &lblank;] So, in K. Richard III: “Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 406 4And every one to rest himself betakes, Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that wakes.] Thus the quarto. The duodecimo, 1600, reads: &lblank; themselves betake, and in the next line: Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that wake. But the first copy was right. This disregard of concord is not uncommon in our ancient poets. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; two lamps burnt out in darkness lies.” Malone.

Note return to page 407 5Though death be adjunct,] So, in King John: “Though that my death were adjunct to the act.” Steevens.

Note return to page 408 6That what they have not (that which they possess)] Thus the quarto, 1594. The edition of 1616 reads: Those that much covet are with gain so fond, That oft they have not that which they possess; They scatter and unloose it &c. The alteration is plausible, but not necessary. If it be objected to the reading of the first copy, that these misers cannot scatter what they have not, (which they are made to do, as the text now stands,) it should be observed, that the same objection lies to the passage as regulated in the latter edition; for here also they are said “to scatter and unloose it &c.” although in the preceding line they were said “oft not to have it.” Poetically speaking they may be said to scatter what they have not, i. e. what they cannot be truly said to have; what they do not enjoy, though possessed of it. Understanding the words in this sense, the old reading may remain. Malone.

Note return to page 409 7So that in vent'ring ill, &lblank;] Thus all the ancient copies that I have seen. The modern editions read: So that in vent'ring all, &lblank; But there is no need of change. In venturing ill, means from an evil spirit of adventure, which prompts us to covet what we are not possessed of. Malone.

Note return to page 410 8Make something nothing, by augmenting it.] Thus, in Macbeth; “&lblank; so I lose no honour “By seeking to augment it &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 411 9&lblank; and wretched hateful days?] The modern editions read, unintelligibly: To slanderous tongues, the wretched hateful lays. Malone.

Note return to page 412 1Now stole upon the time the dead of night, &c.] So, in Macbeth: “Now o'er the one half world “Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse “The curtain'd sleep: now witchcraft celebrates “Pale Hecat's offerings; and wither'd murder, “Alarum'd by his sentinel the wolf, “Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, “With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design “Moves like a ghost.” Malone. Now stole upon the time the dead of night, When heavy sleep had clos'd up mortal eyes; No comfortable star did lend his light &lblank; &lblank; pure thoughts are dead and still, While lust and murder wake &lblank;] From this and two following passages in the poem before us, it is hardly possible to suppose but that Mr. Rowe had been perusing it before he sat down to write The Fair Penitent: “Once in a lone and secret hour of night, “When every eye was clos'd, and the pale moon, “And silent stars &lblank; “Fierceness and pride, the guardians of her honour, “Were lull'd to rest, and love alone was waking.” Steevens.

Note return to page 413 2Doth too too oft betake him to retire,] That is, Fear betakes himself to flight. Malone.

Note return to page 414 3&lblank; lode-star to his lustful eye;] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Your eyes are lode-stars &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 415 4As from this cold flint I enforc'd this fire, So Lucrece must I force to my desire.] “Limus ut hic durescit, et hæc ut cera liquescit, “Uno eodemque igni; sic nostro Daphnis amore. Virg. Ec. 8. Steevens.

Note return to page 416 5&lblank; armour of still-slaughter'd lust,] i. e. still-slaughtering; unless the poet means to describe it at a passion that is always a killing, but never dies. Steevens.

Note return to page 417 6Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not To darken her whose light excelleth thine!] In Othello, we meet the same play of terms: “Put out the light, and then put out the light:— “If I quench thee &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 418 7&lblank; love's modest snow-white weed.] Weed, in old language, is garment. Malone.

Note return to page 419 *&lblank; soft fancy's slave!] Fancy for love or affection. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Sighs and tears, poor fancy's followers.” Malone.

Note return to page 420 8Then my digression &lblank;] My deviation from virtue. So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent.” Malone. Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Thy noble shape is but a form in wax, “Digressing from the valour of a man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 421 9&lblank; the scandal will survive, And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive,] In the books of heraldry a particular mark of disgrace is mentioned, by which the escutcheons of those persons were anciently distinguished, who had discourteously used a widow, maid, or wife, against her will.” There were likewise formerly marks of disgrace for him that revoked a challenge, or went from his word; for him who fled from his colours &c. In the present instance our author seems to allude to the mark first mentioned. Malone. Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive,] So, in King John, “To look into the blots and stains of right.” Again, in Drayton's Epistle from Queen Isabel to King Richard II: “No bastard's mark doth blot my conquering shield.” This distinction, whatever it was, was called in ancient heraldry a blot or difference. Steevens.

Note return to page 422 1Who buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week?] So, in King Rich. III: “Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, “And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 423 2But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend,] So, in Macbeth: “First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, “Strong both against the deed &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 424 3Shameful it is;—ay, if the fact be known:] Thus all the editions before that of 1616, which reads: Shamefull it is; if once the fact be known. The words in Italicks in the first three lines of this stanza, are supposed to be spoken by some airy monitor. Malone.

Note return to page 425 4Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw, Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.] In the old tapestries or painted cloths many moral sentences were wrought. So, in If this be not a good Play the Devil is in't, by Decker, 1612: “What says the prodigal child in the painted cloth?” Malone.

Note return to page 426 5All pure effects, &lblank;] Perhaps we should read affects. So, in Othello: “&lblank; the young affects, “In me defunct &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 427 *Fearing some hard news &lblank;] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; this is stiff news.” The modern editors read—bad news. Steevens.

Note return to page 428 6&lblank; the roses took away.] The roses being taken away. Malone.

Note return to page 429 7And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd,] Thus all the editions before 1616, which has: And now her hand, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 430 8And when his gaudy banner is display'd,] Thus the quarto, 1591. The edition of 1616 reads—this gawdy banner; and in the former part of the stanza, pleads and dreads, instead of pleadeth and dreadeth. Malone.

Note return to page 431 9Sad pause and deep regard beseems the sage;] Sad, in ancient language, is grave. So, in Much ado about Nothing: “The conference was sadly borne &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 432 1My part is youth, and beats these from the stage:] The poet seems to have had the conflicts between the Devil and the Vice of the old moralities, in his thoughts. In these, the Vice was always victorious, and drove the Devil roaring off the stage. Malone. My part is youth, &lblank;] Probably the poet was thinking on that particular interlude intitled Lusty Juventus. Steevens.

Note return to page 433 2&lblank; heedful fear Is almost chok'd by unresisted lust.] Thus the old copy. So, in K. Henry IV: “And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd “Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd.” So also, Dryden: “No fruitful crop the sickly fields return, “But docks and darnel choke the rising corn.” The modern editions erroneously read: &lblank; cloak'd by unresisted lust. Steevens.

Note return to page 434 3Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours;] So, in King Henry VI. P. III: “&lblank; to see the minutes how they run, “How many make the hour full-complete.” Malone.

Note return to page 435 4The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed.] The edition of 1616 reads—doth march. Malone.

Note return to page 436 5&lblank; retires his ward;] Thus the quarto, and the editions 1598 and 1600. That of 1616, and the modern copies, read, unintelligibly: Each one by one enforc'd, recites his ward. Retires is draws back. Retirer, Fr. Malone.

Note return to page 437 6Which drives the creeping thief to some regard:] Which makes him pause and consider what he is about to do. So before: “&lblank; deep regard beseems the sage.” Malone.

Note return to page 438 7&lblank; to have him heard;] That is, to discover him; to proclaim his approach.” Malone.

Note return to page 439 8Night-wandring weesels shriek &c.] The property of the weesel is to suck eggs. To this circumstance our author alludes in As you like it: “I suck melancholy out of a song, as a weesel sucks eggs.” Again, in K. Henry V: “For once the eagle England being in prey, “To her unguarded nest the weesel Scot “Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs.” Perhaps the poet meant to intimate, that even animals intent on matrimonial plunder, gave the alarm at sight of a more powerful invader of the nuptial bed. But this is mere idle conjecture. Steevens.

Note return to page 440 9Extinguishing his conduct in this case:] Conduct for conductor. So, in Romeo and Juliet, act V. sc. iii: “Come bitter conduct, come unsavoury guide &lblank;” See the note there. Malone.

Note return to page 441 1He takes it from the rushes where it lies,] The apartments in England being strewed with rushes in our author's time, he has given Lucretia's chamber the same covering. Malone.

Note return to page 442 2And griping it, the neeld his finger pricks:] Neeld for needle. Our author has the same abbreviation in his Pericles: “Deep clerks she dumbs, and with her neeld composes “Nature's own shape &lblank;” Again, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; Have with our neelds created both one flower.” Malone.

Note return to page 443 3Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let,] To let, in ancient language, is to obstruct, to retard. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.” Malone.

Note return to page 444 4To add a more rejoicing &lblank;] That is, a greater rejoicing. So, in K. Richard II: “To make a more requital of your loves.” The prime is the spring. Malone.

Note return to page 445 5And give the sneaped birds &lblank;] Sneaped is checkea. So, Falstaff, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply.” Malone.9Q1286

Note return to page 446 6That shuts him from the heaven of his thought,] Thus, in The Comedy of Errors: “My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, “My sole earth's heaven &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 447 7That for his prey to pray he doth begin,] A jingle not less disgusting occurs in Ovid's narration of the same event: “Hostis ut hospes init penetralia Collatina.” Steevens.

Note return to page 448 8&lblank; might compass his fair fair,] His fair beauty. Fair, it has been already observed, was anciently used as a substantive. Malone.

Note return to page 449 9And they would stand auspicious to the hour,] This false concord perhaps owes its introduction to the rhime. In the second line of the stanza one deity only is invoked; in the fourth line he talks of more. We must therefore either acknowledge the want of grammar, or read: And he would stand auspicious to the hour, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 450 1The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution;] The duodecimo, 1616, and the modern editions, read: Black sin is clear'd with absolution. Our author has here rather prematurely made Tarquin a disciple of modern Rome. Malone.

Note return to page 451 2The eye of heaven &lblank;] So, in K. Richard II: “All places that the eye of heaven visits.” Steevens. Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “Now ere the sun advance his burning eye &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 452 3Into the chamber wickedly he stalks,] This line strongly confirms the correction that has been made in a passage in Macbeth: “With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design “Moves like a ghost.” where the old copy reads—sides. So, in a subsequent passage, when Lucretia is describing Tarquin's entrance into her chamber, she says: “For in the dreadful dark of deep midnight, “With shining falchion in my chamber came “A creeping creature, with a flaming light, “And softly cry'd &lblank;” Thus also, in a preceding stanza: “Which drives the creeping thief to some regard.” Malone.

Note return to page 453 4Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon,] The duodecimo, 1616, reads—too soon. Malone.

Note return to page 454 5&lblank; firy-pointed sun,] I would read:—fire-ypointed. So, Milton: “Under a star-ypointing pyramid.” Steevens. I have not observed that our author has any where, except in the antiquated choruses of Pericles, (if they were his composition) imitated the elder poets in prefixing y to any word, and therefore suppose the old reading to be right. In Shakspeare's edition the word is spelt fierie-pointed. Malone.

Note return to page 455 6In his clear bed &lblank;] Clear is pure, spotless. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; This Duncan “Hath been so clear in his great office &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 456 7&lblank; her rosy cheek lies under,] Thus the first copy. The edition of 1600, and the subsequent impressions have cheeks. Malone.

Note return to page 457 8Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss;] Among the poems of Sir John Suckling, (who is said to have been a great admirer of our author) is one entitled A Supplement of an imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakspeare's; which begins with these lines, somewhat varied. We can hardly suppose that Suckling would have called a passage extracted from a regular poem an imperfect copy of verses. Perhaps Shakspeare had written the lines quoted below (of which Sir John might have had a manuscript copy) on some occasion previous to the publication of his Lucrece, and afterwards used them in this poem, with some variation. In a subsequent page the reader will find some verses that appear to have been written before Venus and Adonis was composed, of which, in like manner, the leading thoughts were afterwards employed in that poem. This supposed fragment is thus supplied by Suckling.—The variations are distinguished by Italick characters. I. “One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under, “Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; “Which therefore swell'd and seem'd to part asunder, “As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss:   “The one look'd pale, and for revenge did long,   “While t'other blush'd 'cause it had done the wrong. II. “Out of the bed the other fair hand was, “On a green sattin quilt; whose perfect white “Look'd like a daisy in a field of grass* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 458 *Thus far (says Suckling) Shakspeare.

Note return to page 459 †From the want of rhime here, I suspect this line to be corrupt.

Note return to page 460 9Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies,] On our ancient monuments the heads of the persons represented are commonly reposed on pillows. Our author has nearly the same image in Cymbeline: “And be her sense but as a monument, “Thus in a chapel lying.” Steevens.

Note return to page 461 1With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night.] So, Dryden: “And sleeping flow'rs beneath the night-dew sweat.” Steevens.

Note return to page 462 2Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light, And canopied in darkness, sweetly lay, &c.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; The flame o' the taper “Bends towards her, and would underpeep her lids, “To see the enclosed lights, now canopied “Under these windows.” Malone.

Note return to page 463 3Showing life's triumph &lblank;] The duodecimo, 1616, reads Showring. Malone.

Note return to page 464 4&lblank; in the map of death,] So, in King Richard II: “Thou map of honour.” Steevens.

Note return to page 465 5As if between them twain there was no strife, But that life liv'd in death, and death in life.] So, in Macbeth: “That death and nature do contend about them, “Whether they live or die.” Steevens.

Note return to page 466 6A pair of maiden worlds unconquered,] Maiden worlds! How happeneth this, friend Collatine, when Lucretia hath so long lain by thy side? Verily, it insinuateth thee of coldness. Amner.

Note return to page 467 7Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew,] So, Ovid, describing Lucretia in the same situation: “Effugiet? positis urgetur pectora palmis, “Nunc primum externâ pectora tacta manu.” Malone.

Note return to page 468 8And him by oath they truly honoured.] Alluding to the ancient practice of swearing domesticks into service. So, in Cymbeline: “Her servants are all sworn and honourable.” Steevens. The matrimonial oath was, I believe, alone in our author's thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 469 9&lblank; to heave the owner out.] So, in a subsequent stanza: “My sighs like whirlwinds labour hence to heave thee.” The duodecimo, 1616, and the modern editions, read: &lblank; to have the owner out. Malone.

Note return to page 470 *And in his will his wilful eye he tired.] This may mean—He glutted his lustful eye in the imagination of what he had resolved to do. To tire is a term in falconry. So, in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece: “Must with keen fang tire upon thy flesh.” Perhaps we should read—And on his will &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 471 1&lblank; by gazing qualified,] i. e. softened, abated, diminished. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “&lblank; I have heard “Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify “His rigorous courses.” Steevens. Again, in Othello: “I have drank but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too.” Malone.

Note return to page 472 2&lblank; fell exploits effecting,] Perhaps we should read—affecting. Steevens. The preceding line and the two that follow, support, I think, the old reading. Tarquin only expects the onset; but the slaves here mentioned do not affect or meditate fell exploits, they are supposed to be actually employed in carnage: “&lblank; for pillage fighting, “Nor children's tears, nor mothers' groans respecting.” The subsequent line, “Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting &lblank;” refers, not to the slaves, but to Tarquin's veins. Malone.

Note return to page 473 3Gives the hot charge, &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; proclaim no shame “When the compulsive ardour gives the charge.” Steev.

Note return to page 474 4His eye commends the leading to his hand;] i. e. recommends. So, in Macbeth: “I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, “And so I do commend you to their backs.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 475 5On her bare breast, the heart of all her land;] So in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; the very heart of loss.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; I will wear him “In my heart's core; ay, in my heart of heart.” Malone.

Note return to page 476 6The sight which makes supposed terrour true.] The duodecimo, 1616, and the modern editions, read: &lblank; which make supposed terror rue. Malone.

Note return to page 477 7Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies;] So, Ovid, describing Lucretia in the same situation: “Illa nihil; neque enim vocem viresque loquendi   “Aut aliquid toto pectore mentis habet. “Sed tremit &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 478 8Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries;] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “These are the forgeries of jealousy.” Steevens.9Q1287

Note return to page 479 *&lblank; the eyes fly from their lights,] We meet with this conceit again in Julius Cæsar: “His coward lips did from their colour fly.” Steevens.

Note return to page 480 9Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.] Bulk is frequently used by our author and other ancient writers for body. So, in K. Richard III: “&lblank; still the envious flood “Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth “To seek the empty vast, and wandring air, “But smother'd it within my panting bulk.” Again, in Hamlet: “He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound, “As it did seem to shatter all his bulk, “And end his being.” Malone.

Note return to page 481 1&lblank; o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin,] So, Otway, in Venice Preserved: “&lblank; in virgin sheets, “White as her bosom.” Steevens.

Note return to page 482 2Under what colour he commits this ill. Thus he replies: The colour in thy face,] The same play on the same words occurs in K. Henry IV. P. II: “&lblank; this that you heard, was but a colour. Shal. “A colour, I fear, that you will die in, Sir John.” Steevens.

Note return to page 483 3And the red rose blush at her own disgrace,] A thought somewhat similar occurs in May's Supplement to Lucan: “&lblank; labra rubenus “Non rosea æquaret, nisi primo victa fuisset, “Et pudor augeret quem dat natura ruborem.” Steevens.

Note return to page 484 4&lblank; my earth's delight,] So, in The Comedy of Errors: “My sole earth's heaven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 485 5By thy bright beauty was it newly bred.] The duodecimo, 1616, reads: &lblank; it was newly bred. Malone.

Note return to page 486 6I think the honey guarded with a sting;] I am aware that the honey is guarded with a sting. Malone.

Note return to page 487 7I see what crosses &lblank; I have debated &c.] On these stanzas Dr. Young might have founded the lines with which he dismisses the prince of Egypt, who is preparing to commit a similar act of violence, at the end of the third act of Busiris: “Destruction full of transport! Lo I come “Swift on the wing to meet my certain doom: “I know the danger, and I know the shame; “But, like our phœnix, in so rich a flame, “I plunge triumphant my devoted head, “And dote on death in that luxurious bed.” Steevens.

Note return to page 488 8&lblank; like a faulcon towering in the skies, Coucheth the fowl below &lblank;] So, in Measure for Measure: “Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth enmew “As faulcon doth the fowl.” I am not certain but that we should read—Cov'reth. To couch the fowl may, however, mean, to make it couch; as to brave a man, in our author's language, signifies either to insult him, or to make him brave, i. e. fine. So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “&lblank; thou hast brav'd many men; brave not me.” Petruchio is speaking to the Taylor. Steevens.

Note return to page 489 9&lblank; as fowl hear faulcons' bells.] So, in K. Henry VI. P. III: “&lblank; not he that loves him best “Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.” Steevens.

Note return to page 490 1The scornful mark of every open eye;] So, in Othello: “A fixed figure for the time of scorn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 491 2Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy:] The poet calls bastardy nameless, because an illegitimate child has no name by inheritance, being considered by the law as nullius filius. Malone.

Note return to page 492 3Shall have thy trespass cited up in rhimes,] So, in K. Henry VI. P. I: “He made a blushing cital of his faults.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; for we cite our faults.” Steevens.

Note return to page 493 4Shall have thy trespass cited up in rhimes, And sung by children in succeeding times.] So, in King Richard III: “&lblank; Thence we looked towards England, “And cited up a thousand heavy times.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Saucy lictors “Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhimers “Ballad us out o' tune.” Qui me commôrit, (melius non tangere, clamo) Flebit, et insignis tota cantabitur urbe.” Hor. Thus elegantly imitated by Pope: “Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time “Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhime; “Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, “And the sad burthen of some merry song.” Malone.

Note return to page 494 5In a pure compound &lblank;] Thus the early quarto, and the edition of 1600. That of 1616 reads: In purest compounds &lblank; Malone. A thought somewhat similar occurs in Romeo and Juliet: “Within the infant rind of this small flower “Poison hath residence, and medicine power.” Steevens.

Note return to page 495 6Tender my suit: &lblank;] Cherish, regard my suit. So, in Hamlet: “Tender yourself more dearly.” Malone.

Note return to page 496 7Worse than a slavish wipe,] More disgraceful than the brand with which slaves were marked. Malone.

Note return to page 497 8&lblank; or birth-hour's blot:] So, in King John: “If thou that bidst me be content, wert grim, “Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb, “Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains &lblank; “Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks, “I would not care.” It appears that in Shakspeare's time the arms of bastards were distinguished by some kind of blot. Thus, in the play above quoted: “To look into the blots and stains of right.” But in the passage now before us, those corporal blemishes with which children are sometimes born, seem alone to have been in our author's contemplation. Malone.

Note return to page 498 9For marks descried in men's nativity Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.] So, in Hamlet: “That for some vicious mole of nature in them, “As, in their birth (wherein they are not guilty) &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 499 1&lblank; with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “From the death-darting eye of cockatrice.” Steevens.

Note return to page 500 2&lblank; under the grype's sharp claws,] All the modern editions read: &lblank; beneath the gripe's sharp claws. The quarto, 1594, has: Like a white hinde under the grype's sharp claws &lblank; The gryphon was meant, which in our author's time was usually written grype, or gripe. Malone. The gripe is properly the griffin. See Cotgrave's Dictionary, and Mr. Reed's improved edition of Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. I. p. 124. where gripe seems to be used for vultur: “Ixion's wheele “Or cruell gripe to gnaw my growing harte.” Ferrex and Porrex. It was also a term in the hermetick art. Thus, in Ben Jonson's Alchemist: “&lblank; let the water in glass E be filter'd “And put into the gripe's egg.” As griffe is the French word for a claw, perhaps anciently those birds which are remarkable for griping their prey in their talons, were occasionally called gripes. Steevens.

Note return to page 501 3Look, when a black-fac'd cloud the world doth threat,] The quarto, 1594, and all the other ancient copies (that I have seen) read: But when &c. But was evidently a misprint; there being no opposition whatsoever between this and the preceding passage. We had before: “Look, as the fair and firy-pointed sun &c. “Even so &lblank;” Again, in a subsequent stanza, we meet: “Look, as the full-fed hound &c. “So surfeit-taking Tarquin &lblank;” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “Look how the world's poor people are amazed &lblank; “So she with fearful eyes &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 502 *&lblank; his vultur folly,] Folly is used here, as it is in the sacred writings, for depravity of mind. So also, in Othello: “She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.” Malone.

Note return to page 503 4In the remorseless wrinkles of his face;] Remorseless is pitiless. Malone.

Note return to page 504 5She puts the period often from his place, And 'midst the sentence so her accent breaks, That twice she doth begin ere once she speaks.] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Make periods in the midst of sentences, “Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, “And in conclusion dumbly have broke off &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 505 6&lblank; reward not hospitality &c.] So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; my hospitable favours “You should not ruffle thus.” Steevens.

Note return to page 506 7&lblank; pretended;] i. e. proposed to thyself. So, in Macbeth: “Alas the day! “What good could they pretend?” Steevens.

Note return to page 507 8End thy ill aim, before thy shoot be ended.] Thus the old copy; but shoot was probably an error of the press, or a mistake of the copyist. It is manifest from the context, that the author intended the word to be taken in a double sense; suit and shoot being in his time pronounced alike. So, in Love's Lab. lost, Vol. II. p. 431: “Who is the shooter?” [r. suitor.] See the note there.—Again, in The Puritan, 1607: “Enter the Sutors. “Are not these archers,—what do you call them,—shooters? &c.” Again, in The London Prodigal, 1605: “But there's the other black-browes, a shrood girl, “She hath wit at will, and shuters two or three.” The word shoot not admitting more than one idea, I doubt whether suit ought not rather to be placed in the text, which agrees sufficiently well with the preceding and subsequent words. However, I have made no change. In the original edition of this poem many words are printed according to their sound. So, a few lines higher, instead of— “though marble wear with raining,” we have—“though marble were &c.” Malone. I adhere to the old reading, nor apprehend the least equivoque. A sentiment nearly parallel occurs in Macbeth: “&lblank; the murd'rous shaft that's shot, “Hath not yet lighted.” “He is no wood-man that doth bend his bow,” very strongly supports my opinion. Steevens.

Note return to page 508 9Soft pity enters at an iron gate.] Meaning, I suppose, the gates of a prison. Steevens.

Note return to page 509 1How will thy shame be seeded in thine age, When thus thy vices bud before thy spring?] This thought is more amplified in our author's Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; the seeded pride “That hath to its maturity grown up “In rank Achilles, must or now be cropt, “Or, shedding, breed a nursery of evil, “To over-bulk us all.” Steevens.

Note return to page 510 2If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outrage, What dar'st thou not when thou art once a king?] This sentiment reminds us of king Henry IVth's question to his son: “When that my care could not withold thy riots, “What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?” Steevens.

Note return to page 511 3O be remember'd, &lblank;] Bear it in your mind. So, in King Richard II: “&lblank; joy being wanting, “It doth remember me the more of sorrow” Malone.

Note return to page 512 *Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay.] The memory of the ill actions of kings will remain even after their death. So, in The Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596: “Mine owne good father, thou art gone; thine ears are stopp'd with clay.” Again, in Kendal's Flowers of Epigrams, 1577: “The corps clapt fast in clotted clay.   “That here engrav'd doth lie.” Malone.

Note return to page 513 4For princes are the glass, the school, the book, Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look.] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “He was the mark and glass, copy and book, “That fashion'd others.” Regis ad exemplum totus componitur orbis. Claud. Malone.

Note return to page 514 5Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier;] Thus the first copy. The edition of 1616 has—thy rash reply. Dr. Sewel, without authority, reads: Not to seducing lust's outrageous fire. Malone.

Note return to page 515 *&lblank; for exil'd majesty's repeal;] For the recall of exiled majesty. So, in one of our author's plays: “&lblank; If the time thrust forth “A cause for thy repeal &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 516 6Small lights are soon blown out, huge fires abide,] So, in K. Henry VI: “A little fire is quickly trodden out &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 517 7And with the wind in greater fury fret:] So, in The Merchant of Venice: “When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven.” Steevens.

Note return to page 518 8Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.] The duodecimo, 1616, reads: Add to this flow, but alter not the taste. Malone.

Note return to page 519 9Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hersed,] Thus the quarto. The duodecimo, 1616, reads, unintelligibly: Thy sea within a puddle womb is bersed. Dr. Sewel, not being able to extract any meaning from this, reads: Thy sea within a puddle womb is burst, And not the puddle in thy sea dispers'd. Malone.

Note return to page 520 1So shall these slaves be kings, and thou their slave;] This line serves to confirm an emendation made by Mr. Tyrwhitt in a passage in K. John, in which he would read: “King'd of our fears,” i. e. subjected to our fears, which ought to be our slaves, but (like the unruly passions here mentioned, lust, dishonour, &c.) are become our masters. See last edit. of our author's plays, Vol. V. p. 39. Malone.

Note return to page 521 2&lblank; love's coy touch, &lblank;] i. e. the delicate, the respectful approach of love. Steevens.

Note return to page 522 3The wolf hath seiz'd his prey, the poor lamb cries,] “Illa nihil: &lblank; “Sed tremit ut quondam stabulis deprensa relictis   “Parva sub infesto cum jacet agna lupo.” Ovid. I believe the Fasti were not translated in Shakspeare's time; so that probably the coincidence is accidental. Malone.

Note return to page 523 4For with the nightly linnen that she wears,] Thus the first quarto. The duodecimo, 1616, reads, unintelligibly: For with the mighty linnen &c. Malone.

Note return to page 524 5O that prone lust should stain so pure a bed!] Thus the first quarto. The edition of 1600 instead of prone has proud. That of 1616 and the modern copies foul. Prone is headstrong, forward, prompt. In Measure for Measure it is used in somewhat a similar sense: “&lblank; in her youth “There is a prone and speechless dialect.” Malone. Thus more appositely, in Cymbeline: “Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 525 6But she hath lost &c.] Shakspeare has in this instance practised the delicacy recommended by Vida: “Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus eandem “Deveniant, pudor ulterius nihil addere curet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 526 7Drunken desire must vomit his receipt,] So, in Cymbeline: “To make desire vomit emptiness.” Steevens.

Note return to page 527 8Till, like a jade, self-will himself doth tire.] So, in King Henry VIII: “Anger is like “A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, “Self-mettle tires him.” Steevens.

Note return to page 528 9&lblank; that hath lost in gain;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; teach me how to lose a winning match &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 529 1Leaving his spoil &lblank;] That is, Lucretia. So, in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; Set them down “For sluttish spoils of opportunity, “And daughters of the game.” Malone.

Note return to page 530 2He then departs a heavy convertite,] A convertite is a convert. Our author has the same expression in K. John: “But, since you are a gentle convertite, “My tongue shall hush again this storm of war.” Malone.

Note return to page 531 3&lblank; a hopeless cast-away:] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “That ever I should call thee cast-away!” Steevens.

Note return to page 532 4For day, quoth she, night-scapes doth open lay;] So, in K. Hen. VI: “The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day.” Steevens.

Note return to page 533 5And therefore would they still in darkness be,] The duodecimo, 1616, and the modern editions, read, without authority: &lblank; they still in darkness lie. Malone.

Note return to page 534 6Here she exclaims against repose and rest, And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind.] This passage will serve to confirm the propriety of Dr. Johnson's emendation in Cymbeline. See last edit. Vol. IX. p. 258: “I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first.” Steevens.

Note return to page 535 7O comfort-killing night! image of hell!] So, in King Henry V: “Never sees horrid night, the child of hell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 536 8Black stage for tragedies &lblank;] In our author's time, I believe, the stage was hung with black, when tragedies were performed. The hanging however was, I suppose, no more than one piece of black baize placed at the back of the stage, in the room of the tapestry which was the common decoration when comedies were acted. See the Account of the Antient English Theatres, ante, p. 21. Malone.

Note return to page 537 9Let their exhal'd unwholesome breaths make sick The life of purity, the supreme fair,] So, in King Lear: “&lblank; infect her beauty, “Ye fen-suck'd fogs &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 538 1&lblank; noon-tide prick:] So, in one of our author's plays: “And make an evening at the noon-tide prick.” i. e. the point of noon. Again, in Damon and Pythias, 1571: “It pricketh fast upon noon.” Steevens. Again, in Acolastus his after-wit, 1600: “Scarce had the sun attain'd his noon-tide prick.” Malone.

Note return to page 539 2And let thy misty vapours march so thick,] The quarto, by an evident error of the press, reads—musty. The subsequent copies have—misty. So, before: “Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light.” Again: “&lblank; misty night “Covers the shame that follows such delight.” Malone.

Note return to page 540 3&lblank; (as he is but night's child,)] The wicked, in scriptural language, are called the children of darkness. Steevens.

Note return to page 541 4&lblank; he would distain;] Thus all the copies before that of 1616, which reads: The silver-shining queen he would disdain. Dr. Sewell, unwilling to print nonsense, altered this to: &lblank; him would disdain. Malone.

Note return to page 542 5Her twinkling handmaids &lblank;] That is, the stars. In one of our author's plays, they are called, I think, Diana's waiting-women. Malone.

Note return to page 543 6And fellowship in woe doth woe asswage,] So, in King Lear: “But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er-skip, “When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.” Malone. “Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.” Steevens.

Note return to page 544 7As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage.] This is the reading of the quarto, 1594. The duodecimo, 1616, and all the modern editions, read, unintelligibly: As palmers that make short their pilgrimage. Malone. As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage.] So, in King Richard II: “&lblank; rough uneven ways “Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome: “And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, “Making the hard way sweet and delectable.” Again, ibid: “&lblank; wanting your company, “Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd “The tediousness and process of my travel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 545 8Where now I have no one to blush with me,] Where for whereas. So, in K. Henry VI. P. Il. last edit. Vol. VI. p. 374: “Where, from thy sight I should be raging mad, “And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes.” Malone.

Note return to page 546 9May likewise be sepùlcher'd in thy shade!] The word sepulcher'd is accented by Milton in the same manner as here, in his Verses on our author: “And so sepùlcher'd in such pomp does lie, “That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.” Malone.

Note return to page 547 1The light will shew, charàcter'd in my brow,] So, in one of Daniel's Sonnets, 1592: “And if a brow with care's charàcters painted &lblank;” This word was, I suppose, thus accented when our author wrote, and is at this day pronounced in the same manner by the common people of Ireland, where, I believe, much of the pronunciation of queen Elizabeth's age is yet retained. Malone.

Note return to page 548 2Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks.] Will mark or observe. So, in Hamlet: “I am sorry that with better heed and judgment “I had not quoted him.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And how quote you my folly? “&lblank; I quote it in your jerkin.” Malone.

Note return to page 549 3And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name;] Thus, in Dryden's Don Sebastian: “Nor shall Sebastian's formidable name “Be longer us'd to still the crying babe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 550 4Feast-finding minstrels, &lblank;] Our ancient minstrels were the constant attendants on feasts. I question whether Homer's Demodocus was a higher character. Steevens.

Note return to page 551 5&lblank; may read the mot afar,] The motto, or word, as it was sometimes formerly called. So, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “The word, lux tua vita mihi.” The modern editions read unintelligibly: &lblank; may read the mote afar. Malone.

Note return to page 552 6Yet am I guiltless of thy honour's wreck;] The old copy reads, I think, corruptedly: Yet am I guilty of thy honour's wreck; Dr. Sewell has endeavoured to make sense by a different punctuation: Yet, am I guilty of thy honour's wreck? But this does not correspond with the next verse, where the words are arranged as here, and yet are not interrogatory but affirmative. Guilty was, I am persuaded, a misprint. Though the first quarto seems to have been printed under our author's inspection, we are not therefore to conclude that it is entirely free from typographical faults. Shakspeare was probably not a very diligent corrector of his sheets; and however attentive he might have been, I am sorry to be able to observe, that, notwithstanding an editor's best care, some errors will happen at the press. Malone.

Note return to page 553 7Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts?] Folly is, I believe, here used as in scripture, for wickedness. Gentle is well-born. Malone.

Note return to page 554 8But no perfection is so absolute,] So complete. So, in our author's Pericles: “&lblank; still she vies “With absolute Marina. Malone. &lblank; no perfection is so absolute, That some impurity doth not pollute.] So, in Othello: “&lblank; Where's that palace, whereinto foul things “Sometimes intrude not?” Steevens.

Note return to page 555 9And useless barns the harvest of his wits;] Thus all the copies before that of 1616, which reads: And useless bans the harvest of his wits. This has been followed by all the modern editions. Malone.

Note return to page 556 1So then he hath it when he cannot use it, And leaves it to be master'd by his young; &c.] Thus, in Measure for Measure: “Thou hast nor youth nor age, “But as it were an after-dinner's sleep, “Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth “Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms “Of palsied eld: and when thou art old and rich, “Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, “To make thy riches pleasant.” Malone.

Note return to page 557 2Thou mak'st the vestal violate her oath;] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; women are not “In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure “The ne'er-touch'd vestal.” Steevens.

Note return to page 558 3Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name;] Thy flattering titles. So, in K. Lear [1608, and 1623]: “Such smiling rogues as these &lblank; “&lblank; smooth ev'ry passion “That in the nature of their lords rebels.” Again, in Pericles, Prince of Tyre, 1609: “The sinful father “Seem'd not to strike, but smooth.” The edition of 1616, and all afterwards, read without authority: Thy smoth'ring titles &lblank; Malone.

Note return to page 559 4Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood taste:] So, in Othello: “&lblank; the food that to him now is luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.” Steevens.

Note return to page 560 5Thy violent vanities can never last.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “These violent delights have violent ends, “And in their triumph die.” Again, in Othello: “&lblank; it was a violent commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration.” Malone. Fierce vanities is an expression in K. Henry VIII. Scene I. Steevens.

Note return to page 561 6When wilt thou sort an hour &lblank;] When wilt thou choose out an hour. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Let us into the city presently “To sort some gentlemen well-skill'd in musick.” Malone. Again, in King Richard III: “But I will sort a pitchy day for thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 562 7Advice is sporting while infection breeds;] While infection is spreading, the grave rulers of the state, that ought to guard against its farther progress, are careless and inattentive.—Advice was formerly used for knowledge. So, in The Two Gent. of Verona: “How shall I dote on her with more advice, “That thus without advice begin to love her?” Malone. This idea was probably suggested to Shakspeare by the rapid progress of the plague in London. Steevens.

Note return to page 563 8&lblank; and thou art well appay'd,] Appay'd is pleased. The word is now obsolete. Malone.

Note return to page 564 9&lblank; copesmate &lblank;] i. e. companion. So, in Hubbard's Tale: “Till that the foe his copesmate he had found.” Steevens.

Note return to page 565 1Time's office is to fine the hate of foes;] It is the business of time to soften and refine the animosities of men; to sooth and reconcile enemies. The modern editions read without authority or meaning: &lblank; to find the hate of men. Malone. “To fine the hate of foes” is to bring it to an end. So, in All's Well that ends Well: “&lblank; still the fine's the crown, “Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.” The same thought has already occurred in the poem before us: “When wilt thou sort an hour great strife's to end?” Steevens.

Note return to page 566 2To eat up error by opinion bred,] This likewise is represented as the office of Time in the chorus to the Winter's Tale: “&lblank; that make and unfold error.” Steevens.

Note return to page 567 3To wrong the wronger till he render right;] To punish by the compunctious visiting of conscience the person who has done an injury to another, till he has made compensation. The wrong done in this instance by Time, must be understood in the sense of damnum fine injuria; and in this light serves to illustrate and support Mr. Tyrwhitt's explanation of a passage in Julius Cæsar, even supposing that it had stood as Ben Jonson has maliciously represented it—“Know, Cæsar, doth not wrong, but with just cause, &c.” See Vol. VII. p. 58. Dr. Farmer very elegantly would read: To wring the wronger till he render right. Malone.

Note return to page 568 4To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours,] As we have here no invocation to time, I suspect the two last words of this line to be corrupted, and would read: To ruinate proud buildings with their bowers. Steevens. To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours,] So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Shall love in building grow so ruinate?” Hours is, I believe, the true reading. So, in our author's 19th Sonnet: “Devouring Time &lblank; “O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow &lblank;” To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours—is to destroy buildings by thy slow and unperceived progress. It were easy to read—with his hours; but the poet having made Lucretia address Time personally in the two preceding stanzas, and again a little lower— Why work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage &lblank; probably was here inattentive, and is himself answerable for the present inaccuracy. Malone.

Note return to page 569 5To blot old books, and alter their contents,] Our author probably little thought, when he wrote this line, that his own compositions would afford a more striking example of this species of devastation than any that has appeared since the first use of types. Malone.

Note return to page 570 6To dry the old oak's sap, and cherish springs,] The two last words, if they make any sense, it is such as is directly contrary to the sentiments here advanced; which is concerning the decays and not the repairs of time. The poet certainly wrote: To dry the old oak's sap, and tarish springs; i. e. to dry up springs, from the French tarir, or tarissement, exarefacere, exsiccatio: these words being peculiarly applied to springs or rivers. Warburton. This note of Dr. Warburton's has given rise to various observations, which it is unnecessary to quote at large here, as the reader may find them in the last edition of our author, Vol. VII. p. 477. Dr. Johnson thinks that Shakspeare wrote: &lblank; and perish springs; And Dr. Farmer has produced from the Maid's Tragedy a passage in which the word perish is used in an active sense. If change were necessary, that word might perhaps have as good a claim to admission as any other; but I know not why the text has been suspected of corruption. The operations of Time, here described, are not all uniform; nor has the poet confined himself solely to its destructive qualities. In some of the instances mentioned, its progress only is adverted to. Thus we are told, his glory is— “To wake the morn, and centinel the night &lblank; “And turn the giddy round of Fortune's wheel.” In others, its salutary effects are pointed out: “To cheer the ploughman with increaseful crops &lblank; “To unmask falshood, and bring truth to light, &lblank; “To wrong the wronger till he render right.” Where then is the difficulty of the present line, even supposing that we understand the word springs in its common acceptation? It is the office of Time (says Lucretia) to dry up the sap of the oak, and to furnish springs with a perpetual supply; to deprive the one of that moisture which she liberally bestows upon the other. In the next stanza the employment of Time is equally various and discordant: “To make the child a man, the man a child &lblank;” to advance the infant to the maturity of man, and to reduce the aged to the imbecility of childhood. By springs however may be understood (as has been observed by Mr. Tollet) the shoots of young trees; and then the meaning will be—It is the office of Time, on the one hand, to destroy the ancient oak, by drying up its sap; on the other, to cherish young plants, and to bring them to maturity. So, in our author's 15th Sonnet: “When I perceive that men as plants increase, “Cheered and check'd even by the self-same sky &lblank;” I believe this to be the true sense of the passage. Springs have this signification in many ancient English authors; and the word is again used in the same sense in the Comedy of Errors: “Even in the spring of love thy love-springs rot.” Malone.

Note return to page 571 7To spoil antiquities of hammer'd steel,] The poet was here, I believe, thinking of the costly monuments erected in honour of our ancient kings and some of the nobility, which were frequently made of cast iron, or copper, wrought with great nicety; many of which had probably even in his time begun to decay. There are some of these monuments yet to be seen in Westminster-abbey, and other old cathedrals. Malone.

Note return to page 572 8One poor retiring minute in an age] Retiring here signifies returning, coming back again. Malone.

Note return to page 573 9&lblank; extremes beyond extremity,] So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; to make much more, “And top extremity.” Steevens.

Note return to page 574 1Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil.] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?” Again, in K. Hen. VI. P. III: “The thief doth fear each bush an officer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 575 2Let ghastly shadows his lewd eyes affright, &lblank; Disturb his hours of rest of rest with restless trances, &c.] Here we find in embryo that scene of K. Richard III. in which he is terrified by the ghosts of those whom he had slain. Malone.

Note return to page 576 3Let him have time to tear his curled hair, &c.] This now common fashion is always mentioned by Shakspeare as a distinguishing characteristick of a person of rank. So, in Othello: “The wealthy curled darlings of our nation &lblank;” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “If she first meet the curled Antony &lblank;” This and the next stanza, and many other passages both of the present performance and Venus and Adonis, are inserted with very slight variations, in a poem entitled Acolastus his After Witte, by S. Nicholson, 1600; a circumstance which I should hardly have thought worth mentioning, but that in the same poem is also found a line taken from The Third Part of K. Henry VI. and a passage evidently copied from Hamlet; from whence we may, I think, conclude with certainty, that there was an edition of that tragedy (probably before it was enlarged) of an earlier date than any yet discovered. The reader may find the passage alluded to in the last edition of our author's plays, Vol. X. p. 110. Malone. Surely a passage short as the first of these referred to, might have been carried away from the play-house by an auditor of the weakest memory. Of Hamlet's address to the ghost, the idea, not the language, is preserved. Either of them, however, might have been caught during representation. Steevens.

Note return to page 577 4And ever let his unrecalling crime,] His crime which cannot be unacted. Unrecalling for unrecalled, or rather for unrecallable. This licentious use of the participle is common in the writings of our author and his contemporaries. The edition of 1616, which has been followed by all subsequent, reads: &lblank; his unrecalling time. Malone.

Note return to page 578 *As slanderous death's-man to so base a slave?] i. e. executioner. So, in one of our author's plays: “&lblank; he's dead; I am only sorry “He had no other death's-man.” Steevens.

Note return to page 579 5&lblank; sightless night, &lblank;] So, in King John: “&lblank; thou and eyeless night “Have done me shame.” Steevens.

Note return to page 580 6Out idle words, &lblank;] Thus the quarto. The duodecimo, 1607, has: Our idle words &lblank; which has been followed by that of 1616. Dr. Sewell reads without authority: O idle words &lblank; Malone.

Note return to page 581 7For me, I force not argument a straw,] I do not value or esteem argument. So, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562: “But when he, many monthes, hopeless of his recure, “Had served her, who forced not what paynes he did endure &lblank;” Again, in Love's Labour's lost: “Your oath broke once, you force not to forswear.” Malone.

Note return to page 582 8At time, at Tarquin, and uncheerful night;] The duodecimo, 1607, and all the subsequent copies, have: &lblank; unsearchful night. Uncheerful is the reading of the quarto, 1594. Malone.

Note return to page 583 9This helpless smoke of words &lblank;] So, in K. John: “They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke.” Steevens.

Note return to page 584 1A badge of fame to slander's livery;] In our author's time the servants of the nobility all wore silver badges on their liveries, on which the arms of their masters were engraved. Malone.

Note return to page 585 2This bastard graff shall never come to growth:] The edition of 1616, and all the moderns, have: This bastard grass &lblank; The true reading was supplied by the earliest copy. Malone. This sentiment is adopted from the Wisdom of Solomon, ch. 4. v. 3: “But the multiplying brood of the ungodly shall not thrive, nor take deep rooting from bastard slips, nor lay any fast foundation.” The same allusion is employed in one of our author's historical plays. Steevens.

Note return to page 586 3True grief is fond and testy as a child,] Fond, in old language, is silly. Malone.

Note return to page 587 4Sometime her grief is dumb, and hath no words; Sometime 'tis mad, and too much talk affords.] Thus, Lothario speaking of Calista: “At first her rage was dumb, and wanted words; “But when the storm found way, 'twas wild and loud, “Mad as the priestess of the Delphick god &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 588 5The little birds that tune their morning's joy, Make her moans mad with their sweet melody.] So the unhappy king Richard II. in his confinement exclaims: “This musick mads me, let it sound no more; “For though it have holpe madmen to their wits, “In me it seems it will make wise men mad.” Shakspeare has here (as in all his writings) shewn an intimate acquaintance with the human heart. Every one that has felt the pressure of grief will readily acknowledge that “mirth doth search the bottom of annoy.” Malone.

Note return to page 589 *Sad souls are slain in merry company;] So, in Love's Labour's lost: “Oh, I am stabb'd with laughter.” Steevens.

Note return to page 590 6And in my hearing be you mute and dumb!] The same pleonasm of expression is found in Hamlet: “Or given my heart a working mute and dumb.” The editor of the duodecimo in 1616, to avoid the tautology, reads without authority:   And in my hearing be you ever dumb. Malone. You mocking birds, quoth she, your tunes entomb Within your hollow-swelling feather'd breasts, And in my hearing be you mute and dumb! My restless discord loves no stops nor rests; A woeful hostess brooks not merry guests:] Thus, Calista: “Be dumb for ever, silent as the grave, “Nor let thy fond officious love disturb “My solemn sadness with the sound of joy.” Steevens.

Note return to page 591 7A woeful hostess brooks not merry guests:)] So, in Troilus and Cressida: “A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks.” Steevens.

Note return to page 592 8Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears;] The quarto and all the other editions till that of 1616, read ralish, which seems to have been a misprint. Relish is used by Daniel in his 52d Sonnet in the same manner as here: “If any pleasing relish here I use, “Then judge the world, her beauty gives the same. “O happy ground that makes the musick such &lblank;” If ears be right, pleasing, I think, was used by the poet for pleased. In Othello we find delighted for delighting: “If virtue no delighted beauty lack &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 593 9Distress likes dumps &lblank;] A dump is a melancholy song. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “&lblank; to their instruments “Tune a deploring dump.” Malone.

Note return to page 594 1While thou on Tereus descant'st, better skill.] There seems to be something wanting to complete the sense: &lblank; with better skill &lblank; but this will not suit the metre. All the copies have: While thou on Tereus descants better skill. Malone. Perhaps the author wrote, (I say perhaps, for in Shakspeare's licentious grammar nothing is very certain:) &lblank; I'll hum on Tarquin's ill, While thou on Tereus' descant'st better still. Steevens.

Note return to page 595 2Who, if it wink, &lblank;] Shakspeare seldom attends to the last antecedent. The construction is—Which heart, if the eye wink, shall fall &c. Malone.

Note return to page 596 3Some dark deep desert, seated from the way, &c. Will we find out &lblank;] Thus, Calista: “&lblank; my sad soul “Has form'd a dismal melancholy scene, “Such a retreat as I would wish to find, “An unfrequented vale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 597 4To live or die which of the twain were better,] So, Hamlet: “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” Steevens.

Note return to page 598 5When life is sham'd, and Death Reproaches debtor.] Reproaches is here, I think, the Saxon genitive:—When Death is the debtor of Reproach. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “I do wander every where “Swifter than the moones sphere.” She debated whether it were better to live or to destroy herself; life being disgraceful in consequence of her violation, and her death being a debt which she owes to the reproach of her conscience. Malone.

Note return to page 599 6That mother tries a merciless conclusion,] A cruel experiment, So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; she hath assay'd “Conclusions infinite to die.” Malone.

Note return to page 600 7Her house is sack'd &lblank;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; tell me, that I may sack “The hated mansion.” Steevens.

Note return to page 601 *If in this blemish'd fort I make some hole, &c.] So, in K. Richard II: “&lblank; with a little pin “Bores through his castle wall, and—farewel king.” Steev.

Note return to page 602 8Revenge on him that made me stop my breath.] So, in Othello: “There lies your niece, “Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 603 9Which by him tainted, shall for him be spent,] The first copy has, by an apparent error of the press: Which for him tainted &lblank; The correction was made in the duodecimo, 1598. Malone.

Note return to page 604 1Thou, Collatine, shalt oversee this Will;] Thus the quarto. The edition of 1616 has: Then Collatine, &c. Malone. The overseer of a will was, I suppose, designed as a check upon executors. Our author appoints John Hall and his wife for his executors, and Thomas Russel and Francis Collins as his overseers. Steevens. Overseers were frequently added in Wills from the superabundant caution of our ancestors; but our law acknowledges no such persons, nor are they (as contradistinguished from executors) invested with any legal rights whatsoever. In some old Wills the term overseer is used instead of executor. Sir Thomas Bodley, the founder of the Bodleian Library in Oxford, not content with appointing two executors and two overseers, has likewise added three supervisors. Malone.

Note return to page 605 2&lblank; with thought's feathers flies.] So, in K. John: “&lblank; set feathers to thy heels, “And fly like thought.” Steevens.

Note return to page 606 3With soft-slow tongue, true mark of modesty,] So, in The Taming of the Shrew: “Such duty to the drunkard let him do “With soft-slow tongue and lowly courtesy.” In K. Lear the same praise is bestowed on Cordelia: “Her voice was ever soft, “Gentle and low:—an excellent thing in woman.” Malone.

Note return to page 607 4And sorts a sad look to her lady's sorrow,] To sort is to choose out. So before: “When wilt thou sort an hour great strifes to end. Malone.

Note return to page 608 5As the earth doth weep, the sun being set, &c.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “When the sun sets the air doth drizzle dew.” Steevens.

Note return to page 609 6Each flower moistened like a melting eye;] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “The moon, methinks, looks with a watry eye; “And when she weeps, weeps every little flower.” Steevens.

Note return to page 610 7Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night.] So, in Dryden's Oedipus: “Thus weeping blind like dewy night upon thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 611 *Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling:] So in Titus Andronicus: “As from a conduit with their issuing spouts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 612 8And therefore are they form'd as marble will;] Hence do they [women] receive whatever impression their marble-hearted associates [men] choose. The expression is very quaint. Malone.

Note return to page 613 9Then call them not the authors of their ill, No more than wax shall be accounted evil, Wherein is stamp'd the semblance of a devil.] So, in Twelfth Night: “How easy is it for the proper false “In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! “Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we, “For such as we are made, if such we be.” Malone.

Note return to page 614 1&lblank; women's faces are their own faults' books.] So, in Macbeth: “Your face, my thane, is as a book where men “May read strange matters.” Steevens.

Note return to page 615 2No man inveigh against the wither'd flower, But chide &lblank;] Thus the quarto. All the other copies have inveighs and chides. Malone.

Note return to page 616 *&lblank; O let it not be hild] Thus the quarto, for the sake of the rhime. Malone.

Note return to page 617 3&lblank; that they are so fulfill'd With men's abuses; &lblank;] Fulfilled had formerly the sense of filled. It is so used in the Liturgy. Malone. &lblank; fulfill'd With men's abuses; &lblank;] i. e. completely filled, till there be no room for more. The word, in this sense, is now obsolete. So, in the Prologue to Troilus and Cressida: “And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts.” Steevens.

Note return to page 618 4&lblank; abuse a body dead?] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; to do some villainous shame “On the dead bodies &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 619 5To the poor counterfeit of her complaining:] To her maid, whose countenance exhibited an image of her mistress's grief. A counterfeit, in ancient language, signified a portrait. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “What have we here? fair Portia's counterfeit?” Malone.

Note return to page 620 6Much like a press of people at a door, Throng her inventions, which shall go before.] So, in K. John: “&lblank; legions of strange fantasies, “Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, “Confound themselves.” Malone.

Note return to page 621 7So I commend me from our house in grief;] Shakspeare has here closely followed the practice of his own times. Thus Anne Bullen, concluding her pathetick letter to her savage murderer: “From my doleful prison in the Tower, this 6th of May.” So also Gascoigne the poet ends his address to the Youth of England, prefixed to his works: “From my poor house at Waltamstowe in the Forest, the second of February, 1575.” Malone.

Note return to page 622 8To see sad sights moves more than hear them told;] “Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem “Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.” Hor. Malone.

Note return to page 623 9For then the eye interprets to the ear The heavy motion that it doth behold,] Our author seems to have been thinking of the Dumb-shows, which were exhibited on the stage in his time. Motion, in old language, signifies a puppet-show; and the person who spoke for the puppets was called an interpreter. So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; to the dumbness of the gesture “One might interpret.” Malone.

Note return to page 624 1Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow fords,] Thus the quarto, 1594, and all the subsequent copies. But surely the author must have written: Deep floods make lesser noise &c. So, before: “Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood.” Malone. The old reading is perhaps the true one. A sound, in naval language, is such a part of the sea as may be sounded. We have all heard of Plymouth sound, the depth of which is sufficient to carry vessels that draw the most water. The contradiction in terms is of little moment. We still talk of the back front of a house; and every ford, or sound, is comparatively deep. Steevens. As a meaning may be extracted from the reading of the old copy, I have not disturbed it, though I am persuaded that Shakspeare wrote not sounds but floods, for these reasons: 1. Because there is scarce an English poet that has not compared real sorrow to a deep water, and loquacious and counterfeited grief to a bubbling shallow stream. The comparison is always between a river and a brook; nor have I observed the sea once mentioned in the various places in which this trite thought is expressed. Shakspeare, we see, has it in this very poem in a preceding passage, in which deep woes are compared to a gentle flood. 2. Because, supposing the poet to have had the sea in his contemplation, some reason ought to be assigned why he should have chosen those parts of it which are called sounds. To give force to the present sentiment, they must be supposed to be peculiarly still; whereas the truth I believe is, that all parts of the ocean are equally boisterous; at least those which are called sounds are not less so than others. Lastly, because those parts of the sea which are denominated sounds, so far from deserving the epithet deep, are expressly defined to be “shallow seas; such as may be sounded.” Malone.

Note return to page 625 2&lblank; and on it writ, At Ardea to my lord, with more than haste:] Shakspeare seems to have begun early to confound the customs of his own country, with those of other nations. About a century and a half ago, all our letters that required speed were superscribed— With post post haste. Steevens.

Note return to page 626 3As lagging fowls before the northern blast.] Thus the quarto. All the modern editions have—souls. Malone.

Note return to page 627 *The homely villein &lblank;] Villein has here its ancient legal signification; that of a slave. Malone.

Note return to page 628 4To talk in deeds, &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “As he, in his peculiar act and force, “May give his saying deed.” Malone. Again, more appositely, in Julius Cæsar: “Casca. Speak hands for me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 629 5&lblank; this pattern of the worn-out age] We meet nearly the same expression in our author's 68th Sonnet: “Thus is his cheek the map of days out-worn.” Malone. So, in As you like it: “&lblank; how well in thee appears “The constant service of the antique world.” Steevens.

Note return to page 630 6Before the which &lblank;] That is, before Troy. Malone. Before the which is drawn &lblank;] Drawn, in this instance, does not signify delineated, but drawn out into the field, as armies are. So, in King Henry IV: “He cannot draw his power these fourteen days.” Steevens.

Note return to page 631 7Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy;] So, in Pericles: “Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; like the herald Mercury, “New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.” Malone.

Note return to page 632 8Which the conceited painter drew so proud,] Conceited, in old language, is fanciful, ingenious. Malone.

Note return to page 633 9Many a dry drop seem'd a weeping tear,] Thus the quarto. The variation made in this line, in the edition of 1616, which is said in the title-page to be newly revised and corrected, would alone prove it not to have been prepared by our author. The editor, knowing that all drops are wet, and not observing that the poet is here speaking of a picture, discarded the old reading, and gave, instead of it: Many a dire drop seem'd a weeping tear; which has been followed by all the subsequent copies. Had he been at all acquainted with Shakspeare's manner, he never would have made this alteration. Malone.

Note return to page 634 1And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights, “Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.] Perhaps Milton had these lines in his thoughts when he wrote: “Where glowing embers through the room “Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.” It is probable he also remembered these of Spencer: “His glistering armour made “A little glooming light much like a shade.” Malone.

Note return to page 635 2&lblank; deep regard and smiling government.] Profound wisdom, and the complacency arising from the passions being under the command of reason. The former word [regard] has already occurred more than once in the same sense. Malone.

Note return to page 636 3In speech, it seem'd, his beard all silver white, Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly Thin winding breath, which purl'd up to the sky.] So in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; and such again “As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, “Should with a bond of air (strong as the axle-tree “On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish ears “To his experienc'd tongue. Malone. Thin winding breath which purl'd up to the sky.] I suppose we should read—curl'd. Thus, Pope: “While curling smoaks from village tops are seen.” Again, in Cymbeline: “And let our crooked smoaks climb to their nostrils.” Steevens. Again, in The Tempest: “&lblank; to ride “On the curl'd clouds &lblank;” The copies, however, all agree; and perhaps purl'd had formerly the same meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 637 4About him were a press of gaping faces, &c.] Had any engraving or account of Raphael's celebrated picture of The School of Athens reached England in the time of our author, one might be tempted by this description to think that he had seen it. Malone.

Note return to page 638 5Which seem'd to swallow up his sound advice;] So, in K. John: “With open mouth, swallowing a taylor's news.” Steevens.

Note return to page 639 6Here one being throng'd bears back, all blown and red;] The quarto and all the other copies have—boln. Boln was, I think, a misprint in the first edition for blown; i. e. swelled. The word is used in the same sense in Antony and Cleopatra: “This blows my heart.” Again: “&lblank; Here on her breast “There is a vent of blood, and something blown.” Malone. I believe the poet wrote—swoln. So, in his Venus and Adonis: “All swoln with chasing, down Adonis sits.” Steevens.

Note return to page 640 7Another, smother'd, seems to pelt and swear;] To pelt meant, I think, to be clamorous, as men are in a passion. So, in an old collection of tales, entitled Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1595: “The young man, all in a pelting chafe &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 641 *&lblank; debate with angry swords.] i. e. fall to contention. Bate is an ancient word signifying strife. So, in the old play of Acolastus, 1540: “We shall not fall to bate, or stryve for this matter.” Steevens. Debate has here, I believe, its usual signification. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Speak hands for me” Again, in Hamlet: “I will speak daggers to her, but use none.” Malone.

Note return to page 642 8Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind,] An artful delineation, so nicely and naturally executed. Kind and nature, in old language, were synonymous. Malone.

Note return to page 643 9Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind:] We meet the same expression in Hamlet, and in one of our author's Sonnets. Malone.

Note return to page 644 1To break upon the galled shore, and than] Than for then. This licence of changing the termination of words is sometimes used by our ancient poets, in imitation of the Italian writers. Thus, Daniel, in his Cleopatra, 1594: “And now wilt yield thy streames “A prey to other reames;” i. e. realms. Again, in his Complaint of Rosamond, 1592: “When cleaner thoughts my weakness 'gan upbray “Against myself, and shame did force me say &lblank;” Many other instances of the same kind might be added. See the next note. Malone. Reames, in the instance produced, is only the French royaumes affectedly anglicized. Steevens. In Daniel's time the French word was usually written royaulme. Malone.

Note return to page 645 2To find a face where all distress is stêl'd.] Thus the quarto, and all the subsequent copies.—In our author's twenty-fourth Sonnet we meet these lines: “Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath steel'd “Thy beauty's form in table of my heart.” This therefore I suppose to have been the word intended here, which the poet altered for the sake of rhime. So before—hild for held, and than for then. He might, however, have written: &lblank; where all distress is spell'd. i. e. written. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “And careful hours with time's deformed hand “Have written strange defeatures in my face.” Malone.

Note return to page 646 3Which bleeding under Pyrrhus' proud foot lies.] Dr. Sewell unnecessarily reads—Who bleeding &c. The neutral pronoun was anciently often used for the personal. It still remains in the Liturgy. Which, however, may refer to wounds. See p. 458. note 4. Malone.

Note return to page 647 4On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes,] Fixes them earnestly; gives it her whole attention. Hounds are said to spend their tongues, when they join in full cry. Malone.

Note return to page 648 5&lblank; the plague of many moe?] Moe for more. The word is now obsolete. Malone.

Note return to page 649 6Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds;] In the play of Troilus and Cressida, his name is frequently introduced in the same manner as here, as a dissyllable. The mere English reader still pronounces the word as, I believe, Shakspeare did. Swounds is swoons. Swoon is constantly written sound in the old copies of our author's plays; and from this stanza it appears that the word was anciently pronounced as it is here written. Malone.

Note return to page 650 7And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds,] Advice, it has been already observed, formerly meant knowledge. Friends wound friends, not knowing each other. It should be remembered that Troy was sacked in the night. Malone.

Note return to page 651 8She throws her eyes about the painting, round,] The duodecimo, 1616, and all the subsequent copies, read: &lblank; about the painted round. Malone.

Note return to page 652 9So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes.] That is, the woes suffered by Patience. We have nearly the same image in our author's Twelfth Night: “She seem'd like Patience on a monument “Smiling at grief &lblank;” Again, in his Pericles: “&lblank; like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling extremity out of act.” Malone.

Note return to page 653 1&lblank; and give the harmless show] The harmless painted figure. Malone.

Note return to page 654 2And therein so ensconc'd his secret evil,] And by that means so concealed his secret treachery. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I will ensconce myself behind the arras.” Malone.

Note return to page 655 3And little stars shot from their fixed places, When the glass fell wherein they view'd their faces.] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; the rude sea grew civil at her song, “And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, “To hear the sea-maid's musick.” Why Troy, however beautiful or magnificent, should be called the mirrour in which the fixed stars beheld themselves, I do not see. The image is very quaint and far-fetched. Malone.

Note return to page 656 4This picture she advisedly perus'd,] Advisedly is attentively; with deliberation. Malone.

Note return to page 657 5So sober-sad, so weary, and so mild, (As if with grief or travail he had fainted) To me came Tarquin armed; so beguil'd With outward honesty &lblank;] To me came Tarquin with the same armour of hypocrisy that Sinon wore. The old copy reads: To me came Tarquin armed to beguild With outward honesty &c To must, I think, have been a misprint for so. Beguil'd is for beguiling. Our author frequently confounds the active and passive participle. Thus, in Othello, delighted for delighting: “If virtue no delighted beauty lack &lblank;” Malone. I think the reading proposed is right; and would point thus: To me came Tarquin armed; so beguil'd With outward honesty, but yet &c. So beguil'd is so cover'd, so masked with fraud, i. e. like Sinon. Thus, in The Merchant of Venice, act III. sc. ii: “Thus ornament is but the guiled shore “To a most dangerous sea.” Steevens.

Note return to page 658 6For every tear he falls &lblank;] He lets fall. So, in Othello: “Each tear she falls would prove a crocodile.” Malone. A similar thought occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “For every false drop in her bawdy veins, “A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple “In her contaminated carrion weight, “A Trojan hath been slain.” Steevens.

Note return to page 659 7These water-galls in her dim element] The water-gall is some appearance attendant on the rainbow. The word is current among the shepherds on Salisbury plain. Steevens.

Note return to page 660 8&lblank; look'd red and raw,] So, in Hamlet: “The Danish cicatrice looks red and raw.” Steevens.

Note return to page 661 9Why art thou thus attir'd in discontent?] So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, “I know not what to say.” Steevens.

Note return to page 662 1At length address'd to answer his desire,] Address'd is ready, prepared. So, in K. Henry V: “To-morrow for our march we are address'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 663 2Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed A stranger came, and on that pillow lay Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head.] “Vestigia viri alieni, Collatine, in lecto sunt tuo.” Liv. lib. i. cap. 58. Malone. Peradventure the pillow which the lady here speaketh of, was what in a former stanza is denominated the heart of all her land. Tarquin slept not, it is to be presumed, though, like Jachimo, he had that was well worth watching. Amner.

Note return to page 664 3In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past:] Should we not read: In rage sent out, recall'd, the rage being past. Farmer.

Note return to page 665 4To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes.] The quarto has: To drown on woe, &lblank; On an one are perpetually confounded in old English books. The former does not seem to have any meaning here. The edition of 1600 has—one woe. We might read: To drown in woe one pair of weeping eyes. Malone.

Note return to page 666 *For sparing justice feeds iniquity.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.” Malone.

Note return to page 667 5Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies' harms.] Here one of the laws of chivalry is somewhat prematurely introduced. Malone.

Note return to page 668 6The poison'd fountain clears itself again; And why not I from this compelled stain?] There are perhaps few who would not have acquiesced in the justice of this reasoning. It did not however, as we learn from history, satisfy this admired heroine of antiquity. Her conduct on this occasion has been the subject of much speculation. It is not alleged by any of the historians that actual violence was offered to her. &grD;&gri;&grag; &grm;&gre;&grn; &gro;&grusg;&grn; &grt;&gra;&gruc;&grt;&grap; (says Dion) &grO;&grU;&grK; &grA;&grK;&grO;&grU;&grS;&grA; &grd;&grhg; &gres;&grm;&gro;&gri;&grx;&gre;&grua;&grq;&grh;. Why then, it is asked, did she not suffer death rather than submit to her ravisher? An ingenious French writer thinks she killed herself too late to be entitled to any praise. Les Oeuvres de Sarazin, p. 182. edit. 1694.—A venerable father of the church (St. Austin) censures her still more severely, concluding his strictures on her conduct with this dilemma: “Ita hæc causa ex utroque latere coarctatur; ut si extenuatur homicidium, adulterium confirmetur; si purgatur adulterium, homicidium cumulatur; nec omnino invenitur exitus, ubi dicitur, si adulterata, cur laudata? si pudica cur occisa?”—On these words a writer of the last century [Renatus Laurentius de la Barre] formed the following Latin epigram: “Si tibi forte fuit, Lucretia, gratus adulter,   “Immerito ex merita præmia cæde petis: “Sin potius casto vis est allata pudori,   “Quis furor est hostis crimine velle mori? “Frustra igitur laudem captas, Lucretia; namque   “Vel furiosa ruis, vel scelerata cadis.” “If Tarquin's guilt, Lucretia, pleas'd thy soul, “How could thy blood wash out a stain so foul? “But if by downright force the joy he had, “To die on his account, must prove you mad: “Then be thy death no more the matron's pride, “You liv'd a strumpet, or a fool you dy'd.” The ladies must determine the question. I am indebted to a friend for perhaps the best defence that can be made for this celebrated suicide: “Heu! misera, ante alias, Lucretia! Rumor iniquus   “Me referet pactam me violâsse fidem? “Criminis et socius fingetur servus? Imago   “Vincit, et horrendis cedo, Tyranne, minis. “Te, pudor, heu violo;—valeant jam gaudia vitæ!   “Carior et vitâ, care marite, vale! “Ferrum et restituet læso sua jura pudori,   “Ad cœlum et surget sanguine Fama meo.” Malone.

Note return to page 669 7&lblank; no dame, hereafter living, By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.] “Ego me, etsi peccato absolvo, supplicio non libero; nec ulla deinde impudica exemplo Lucretiæ vivet.” Liv. lib. i. cap. 58.—No translation of the first book of Livy had appeared before the publication of this poem. Malone.

Note return to page 670 8&lblank; vastly stood] i. e. like a waste. Vastum is the lawterm for waste ground. Thus, in The Winter's Tale: “&lblank; shook hands as over a vast.” Again, in Pericles: “Thou God of this great vast, rebuke the surges.” Steevens.

Note return to page 671 9&lblank; a watery rigol goes,] A rigol is a circle. Malone. So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “&lblank; a sleep “That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd “So many English kings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 672 1&lblank; unliv'd?] The quaintness of this word has only been equalled by another of the same kind in Chrononhotonthologos: “Himself he unfatigues with pleasing slumbers.” Steevens. I do not perceive any peculiar uncouthness in this expression. What is unliv'd but liveless (for so the word lifeless was frequently written in our author's time)? The privative un may be joined to almost any English participle. When indeed it is annexed to a word that is itself of a privative nature, (as fatigue,) the word so formed becomes ridiculous. But unliv'd does not appear to me more exceptionable than unhoused, unpaved, and twenty more. Malone.

Note return to page 673 2If children pre-decease progenitors,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; oh, thou untaught! “To press before thy father to a grave!” Steevens.

Note return to page 674 3But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old,] Thus the quarto. The modern editions have—dim and cold, which is perhaps the true reading. This indeed is not a very proper epithet, because all mirrors are cold. But the poet might have thought that its being descriptive of Lucretia's state was sufficient. Malone. Old, I believe, is the true reading. Though glass may not prove subject to decay, the quicksilker behind it will perish, through age, and it then exhibits a faithless reflection. A steel-glass, however, would certainly grow dim in proportion as it grows old. Steevens. Some difficulty will however still remain. A steel-glass was, I believe, not very liable to be broken. Malone.

Note return to page 675 4Shows me a bare-bon'd death &lblank;] So, in King John: “&lblank; and on his forehead sits “A bare-ribb'd death &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 676 5Poor broken glass, I often did behold In thy sweet semblance my old age new-born: But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old Shows me a bare-bon'd death by time out-worn;] So, in K. Richard III: “I have bewept a worthy husband's death, “And liv'd by looking on his images; “But now two mirrors of his princely semblance “Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death.” Again, in our author's third Sonnet: “Thou art thy mother's glass &c.” Malone. Compare this stanza with the speech of K. Richard II. when he commands a mirror to be brought, and afterwards dashes it on the ground. Steevens.

Note return to page 677 6O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn!] Thus the quarto. The edition of 1600, and all subsequent to it, have: O from my cheeks my image thou hast torn! But the father's image was in his daughter's countenance, which she had now disfigured. The old copy is therefore certainly right. Malone.

Note return to page 678 7O time, cease thou thy course, and last no longer,] Thus the quarto. The duodecimo, 1616, reads: &lblank; haste no longer &lblank; which has been followed by all the modern editions. Malone.

Note return to page 679 *And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place;] So, Queen Margaret, in K. Rich. III: “And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 680 8And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream] This epithet is frequently used by our author and his contemporaries. So, in K. Richard III: “Poor key-cold figure of a loyal king.” Malone.

Note return to page 681 9At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er; So, in Macbeth: “That tears shall drown the wind.” Steevens.

Note return to page 682 1O, quoth Lucretius, I did give that life, Which she too early and too late hath spill'd.] The same conceit occurs in the third part of K. Henry VI: “O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, “And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!” Steevens. Which she too early and too late hath spill'd.] Too late here means too recently. So, in King Richard III. act III. sc. i: “Too late he died, that might have kept that title, “Which by his death hath lost much majesty.” Malone.

Note return to page 683 *That they will suffer these abominations, &c.] The construction is—that they will suffer these abominations to be chased, &c. Malone.

Note return to page 684 2And by chaste Lucrece' soul that late complained Her wrongs to us &lblank;] To complain was anciently used in an active sense, without an article subjoined to it. So, in Fairfax's translation of Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered: “Pale death our valiant leader hath oppress'd; “Come wreak his loss whom bootless ye complain.” Malone.

Note return to page 685 3Who wondering at him, did his words allow:] Did approve of what he said. So, in King Lear: “&lblank; if your sweet sway “Allow obedience &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 686 4The Romans plausibly &lblank;] That is, with acclamations. To express the same meaning, we should now say, plausively. The text however is, I think, not corrupt. Malone. Plausibly may mean, with expressions of applause. Plausibilis, Lat. Thus, in the Argument prefixed to this poem: “&lblank; wherewith the people were so moved, that with one consent, and a general acclamation, the Tarquins were all exiled.” Steevens.

Note return to page 687 5In examining this and the preceding poem, we should do Shakspeare injustice were we to try them by a comparison with more modern and polished productions, or with our present idea of poetical excellence. It has been observed, that few authors rise much above the age in which they live. If their performances reach the standard of perfection established in their own time, or surpass somewhat the productions of their contemporaries, they seldom aim farther; for if their readers are satisfied, it is not probable that they should be discontented. The poems of Venus and Adonis, and The Rape of Lucrece, whatever opinion may be now entertained of them, were certainly much admired in Shakspeare's life-time. In thirteen years after their first appearance, six impressions of each of them were printed, while in the same period his Romeo and Juliet (one of his most popular plays) passed only twice through the press. They appear to me superior to any pieces of the same kind produced by Daniel or Drayton, the most celebrated writers in this species of narrative poetry that were then known. The applause bestowed on The Rosamond of the former author, which was published in 1592, gave birth, I imagine, to the present poem. The stanza is the same in both. No compositions were in that age oftner quoted, or more honourably mentioned, than these two of Shakspeare. Among others, Drayton, in the first edition of his Matilda, has pronounced the following eulogium on the preceding poem: “Lucrece, of whom proud Rome hath boasted long, “Lately reviv'd to live another age, “And here arriv'd to tell of Tarquin's wrong, “Her chaste denial, and the tyrant's rage, “Acting her passions on our stately stage, “She is remember'd, all forgetting me, “Yet I as fair and chaste as ere was she* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 688 *Matilda, the faire and chaste Daughter of Lord Robert Fitzwater. By Michael Drayton, 1594. If the reader should look for these lines in any edition of Matilda but the first, he will be disappointed. It is observable that Daniel and Drayton made many alterations in their poems at every re-impression.

Note return to page 689 1Dr. Farmer supposes that many of these Sonnets are addressed to our author's nephew Mr. William Harte. But this, I think, may be doubted. Shakspeare's sister, Joan Harte, was born in April, 1569. Supposing her to have married at so early an age as sixteen, her eldest son William could not have been more than twelve years old in 1598* [Footnote: 1Kb]

Note return to page 690 *I have here supposed our author's eldest nephew to have been twelve years old in 1598, but perhaps he was not then even born. It is observable, that Shakspeare, when he had occasion in his Will to mention the children of his sister Joan Harte, did not recollect the Christian name of her second son; from which circumstance we may infer, that in 1616 they were all young.

Note return to page 691 2i. e. Thomas Thorpe. See the extract from the Stationers' books in the next page. Malone.

Note return to page 692 3Shakspeare's Sonnets were entered on the Stationers' books by Thomas Thorpe, on the 20th of May, 1609, and printed in the same year. They were, however, written many years before, being mentioned by Meres in his Wits' Treasury, 1598: “As the soul of Euphorbus (says he) was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakespeare. Witness his Venus and Adonis, his Lucrece, his sugred Sonnets among his private friends &c.” The general style of these poems, and the numerous passages in them which remind us of our author's plays, leave not the smallest doubt of their authenticity. In these compositions, Daniel's Sonnets, which were published in 1592, appear to me to have been the model that Shakspeare followed. Malone.

Note return to page 693 4And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? “Rom. She hath: and in that sparing makes huge waste.”

Note return to page 694 5&lblank; this glutton be, To cat the world's due, by the grave and thee.] The ancient editors of Shakspeare's works, deserve at least the praise of impartiality. If they have occasionally corrupted his noblest sentiments, they have likewise depraved his most miserable conceits; as, perhaps, in this instance. I read (piteous constraint, to read such stuff at all!) &lblank; this glutton be; To eat the world's due, be thy grave and thee. i. e. be at once thyself, and thy grave. The letters that form the two words were probably transposed. I did not think the late Mr. Rich had such example for the contrivance of making Harlequin jump down his own throat. Steevens. I do not believe there is any corruption in the text. Mankind being daily thinned by the grave, the world could not subsist if the places of those who are taken off by death were not filled up by the birth of children. Hence Shakspeare considers the propagation of the species as the world's due, as a right to which it is entitled, and which it may demand from every individual. The sentiment in the lines before us, it must be owned, is quaintly expressed; but the obscurity arises chiefly, I think, from the aukward collocation of the words for the sake of the rhime. The meaning seems to me to be this.—Pity the world, which is daily depopulated by the grave, and beget children, in order to supply the loss; or if you do not fulfill this duty, acknowledge, that as a glutton swallows and consumes more than is sufficient for his own support, so you, (who by the course of nature must die, and by your own remissness are likely to die childless) thus “living and dying in single blessedness,” consume and destroy the world's due; to the desolation of which you will doubly contribute; 1. by thy death, 2. by thy dying childless. Our author's plays, as well as the poems now before us, affording a sufficient number of conceits, it is rather hard that he should be answerable for such as can only be obtained through the medium of alteration. Malone.

Note return to page 695 *Will be a tatter'd weed, &lblank;] A torn garment. Malone.

Note return to page 696 6&lblank; whose unear'd womb] Unear'd is untilled. So, in our author's dedication of his Venus and Adonis: “&lblank; if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so barren a land for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest.” Malone. &lblank; whose un-ear'd womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry.] Thus in Measure for Measure: “&lblank; her plenteous womb “Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.” Steevens.

Note return to page 697 7Or who is he so fond, will be the tomb Of his self-love, to stop posterity?] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; beauty, starv'd with her severity, “Cuts beauty off from all posterity.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “What is thy body but a swallowing grave, “Seeming to bury that posterity “Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, “If thou destroy them not in their obscurity?” Fond, in old language, is foolish. Malone.

Note return to page 698 *Thou art thy mother's glass &c.] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Poor broken glass, I often did behold   “In thy sweet semblance my old age new-born.” Malone.

Note return to page 699 8Calls back the lovely April of her prime;] So, in Timon of Athens: “She whom the spital house and ulcerous sores “Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices “To the April day again.” Malone.

Note return to page 700 9So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.] Thus, in our author's Lover's Complaint: “Time had not scythed all that youth begun, “Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, “Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.” Malone.

Note return to page 701 1Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And being frank, she lends to those are free &c.] So, Milton, in his Masque at Ludlow Castle: “Why should you be so cruel to yourself, “And to those dainty limbs which nature lent “For gentle usage, and soft delicacy? “But you invert the covenants of her trust, “And harshly deal like an ill borrower, “With that which you receiv'd on other terms.” Steev.

Note return to page 702 2What acceptable audit canst thou leave?] So, in Macbeth: “To make their audit at your highness' pleasure.” Steevens.

Note return to page 703 3And that unfair which fairly doth excell;] And render that which was once beautiful, no longer fair. To unfair, is, I believe, a verb of our author's coinage. Malone.

Note return to page 704 4For never-resting time leads summer on] So, in one of our author's plays: “For, with a word, the time will bring on summer.” Steevens.

Note return to page 705 5Beauty o'er snow'd, and bareness every where:] Thus the quarto, 1609. The modern editions have &lblank; barrenness every where. In the 97th Sonnet we meet again with the same image: “What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! “What old December's bareness every where!” Malone.

Note return to page 706 6But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet, Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.] This is a thought with which Shakspeare seems to have been much pleased. We find it again in the 54th Sonnet, and in A Midsummer Night's Dream, act I. sc. i. Malone.

Note return to page 707 7And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age,] Perhaps our author had the sacred writings in his thoughts: “&lblank; in them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun, which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a giant to run his course. It goeth forth from the uttermost part of the heaven, and runneth about unto the end of it again: and there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.” Malone.

Note return to page 708 8Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, Attending on his golden pilgrimage;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun “Peer'd forth the golden window of the east &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 709 9If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, &lblank;] So, in Romeo and Juliet [quarto, 1599]: “Examine ev'ry married lineament, “And see how one another lends content.” Again, in Troilus and Cressida: “The married calm of states &lblank;” Milton had perhaps these lines in his thoughts when he wrote: “And ever against eating cares “Lap me in soft Lydian airs, “Married to immortal verse, “Such as the meeting soul may pierce, “In notes with many a winding bout “Of linked sweetness long drawn out, “With wanton heed and giddy cunning, “The melting voice through mazes running; “Untwisting all the chains that tie “The hidden soul of harmony.” L' Allegro. I know not whether it has been observed that one of our author's contemporaries seems to have furnished Milton with the image presented in these latter lines: “Cannot your trembling wires throw a chain “Of powerful rapture 'bout our mazed sense?” Marston's What you Will, a comedy, 1607. Malone.

Note return to page 710 1&lblank; like a makeless wife;] As a widow bewails her lost husband. Make and mate were formerly synonymous. So, in Kyng Appolyn of Thyre, 1510: “Certes madam, I sholde have great joye yfe ye had such a prynce to your make.” Again, in The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562, ante, p. 343: “Betwixt the armes of me, thy perfect-loving make.” Malone.

Note return to page 711 2Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate &c.] This is a metaphor of which our author is peculiarly fond. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Shall love in building grow so ruinate?” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, “Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, “Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, “And leave no memory of what it was. “Repair me with thy presence, Silvia.” Steevens.

Note return to page 712 3Look whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more; Which bounteous gift thou should'st in bounty cherish:] On a survey of mankind, you will find that Nature, however liberal she may have been to others, has been still more bountiful to you. The old copy reads—she gave the more; which was evidently a misprint. Malone.

Note return to page 713 4Thou should'st print more, nor let that copy die.] So, in Twelfth Night: “Lady, you are the cruellest she alive, “If you will lead these graces to the grave, “And leave the world no copy.” Malone.

Note return to page 714 5And sable curls, all silver'd o'er with white;] The old copy reads: “&lblank; or silver'd o'er with white. Or was clearly an error of the press. Mr. Tyrwhitt would read: &lblank; are silver'd o'er with white. Malone. So, in Hamlet: “His beard was, as I've seen it in his life, “A sable silver'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 715 6When lofty trees I see, barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; a bank “Quite over-canopy'd with luscious woodbine.” Malone.

Note return to page 716 7And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; and the green corn “Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard.” C.

Note return to page 717 8Save breed, to brave him &lblank;] Except children, whose youth may set the scythe of Time at defiance, and render thy own death less painful. Malone.

Note return to page 718 9Against this coming end you should prepare, And your sweet semblance to some other give.] This is a sentiment that Shakspeare is never weary of expressing. We meet it again in Venus and Adonis: “By law of nature thou art bound to breed, “That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; “And so in spite of death thou dost survive, “In that thy likeness still is left alive.” Malone.

Note return to page 719 1&lblank; that beauty which you hold in lease] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; our high-plac'd Macbeth “Shall live the lease of nature.” Steevens. Again, ibid: “But in them Nature's copy's not eterne.” Malone.9Q1288

Note return to page 720 2Which husbandry in honour might uphold] Husbandry is generally used by Shakspeare for æconomical prudence. So, in K. Henry V: “For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers, “Which is both healthful and good husbandry.” Malone.

Note return to page 721 3By oft predict &lblank;] Dr. Sewel reads, perhaps rightly: By aught predict &lblank; Malone. The old reading may be the true one. By oft predict—may mean—By what is most frequently prognosticated. Steevens.

Note return to page 722 4But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,] So, in Love's Labour's lost: “From women's eyes this doctrine I derive.” Steevens.

Note return to page 723 5If from thyself to store thou would'st convert:] If thou would'st change thy single state, and beget a numerous progeny. So before: “Let those whom Nature hath not made for store.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “O she is rich in beauty; only poor, “That when she dies, with beauty dies her store &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 724 6To change your day of youth to sullied night,] So, in K. Richard III: “Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 725 7&lblank; would bear you living flowers,] The first edition reads, by an apparent error of the press: &lblank; your living flowers. Malone.

Note return to page 726 8Much liker than your painted counterfeit:] A counterfeit formerly signified a portrait. So, in Greene's Farewell to Folly, 1617: “Why do the painters, in figuring forth the counterfeit of Love, draw him blind?” Malone.

Note return to page 727 *So should the lines of life &lblank;] This appears to me obscure. Perhaps the poet wrote—the lives of life: i. e. children. Malone.

Note return to page 728 9&lblank; my pupil pen,] This expression may be considered as a slight proof that the poems before us were our author's earliest compositions. Steevens.

Note return to page 729 1To give away yourself keeps yourself still,] To produce likenesses of yourself, (that is, children,) will be the means of preserving your memory. Malone.

Note return to page 730 2Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,] So, in Cymbeline: “And like the tyrannous breathing of the north, “Shakes all our buds from growing.” Again, in The Taming of the Shrew: “Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds.” Malone.

Note return to page 731 3Sometime too hot the eye of heaven &lblank;] That is, the sun, So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Now ere the sun advance his burning eye &lblank;” Again, in King Richard II: “&lblank; when the searching eye of heaven is hid “Behind the globe, and lights the lower world.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “The eye of heaven is out.” Malone.

Note return to page 732 4&lblank; untrimm'd,] i. e. divested of ornament. So, in K. John: “&lblank; a new untrimmed bride.” Steevens.

Note return to page 733 5Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;] Of that beauty thou possessest. Fair was, in our author's time, used as a substantive. Malone. See note on The Comedy of Errors, last edit. Vol. II. p. 180. Steevens.

Note return to page 734 6And burn the long-liv'd phœnix in her blood;] So, in Coriolanus: “Your temples burned in their cement.” The meaning of neither phrase is very obvious; however, burned in her blood, may signify burnt alive; and burned in their cement, burnt while they were standing. Steevens.

Note return to page 735 7&lblank; the master-mistress of my passion,] It is impossible to read this fulsome panegyrick, addressed to a male object, without an equal mixture of disgust and indignation. We may remark also, that the same phrase employed by Shakspeare to denote the height of encomium, is used by Dryden to express the extreme of reproach: “That woman, but more daub'd; or, if a man, “Corrupted to a woman; thy man-mistress.” Don Sebastian. Let me be just, however, to our author, who has made a proper use of the term male varlet, in Troilus and Cressida. See edit. 1778, Vol. IX. p. 130. Steevens.

Note return to page 736 8An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth:] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I have writ me here a letter to her; and here another to Page's wife; who even now gave me good eyes too, examined my parts with most gracious eyliads; sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly” C.

Note return to page 737 9Which steals men's eyes, &lblank;] So, in our author's Pericles: “&lblank; reserve “That excellent complexion, which did steal “The eyes of young and old.” Malone.

Note return to page 738 1And for a woman wert thou first created; Till nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, &c.] There is an odd coincidence between these lines and a well-known modern epigram: “Whilst nature H-rv-y's clay was blending, “Uncertain what the thing would end in, “Whether a female or a male, “A pin dropp'd in, and turn'd the scale.” Malone.

Note return to page 739 2But since she prick'd thee out &c] To prick is to nominate by a puncture or mark. So, in Julius Cæsar: “These many then shall die, their names are prick'd.” Again, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “Shall I prick him, Sir John?”—I have given a wrong explanation of this phrase elsewhere. Steevens.

Note return to page 740 3Making a couplement &lblank;] That is, a union. This word is, I believe, of our author's invention. The modern editions read: Making a compliment of proud compare. Malone.

Note return to page 741 4That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.] Rondure is a round. Rondeur, Fr. The word is again used by our author in K. Henry V: “'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls.” Malone.

Note return to page 742 5As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:] That is, the stars, So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Night's candles are burnt out &lblank;” Again, in Macbeth: “There's husbandry in heaven; “Their candles are all out.” Malone. &lblank; those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:] So, in the old copies of Pericles: “&lblank; the air-remaining lamps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 743 6I will not praise, that purpose not to sell.] So, in one of our author's plays: “To things of sale a seller's praise belongs.” Steevens.

Note return to page 744 7&lblank; time's furrows I behold,] Dr. Sewell reads: &lblank; time's sorrows &lblank; Malone.

Note return to page 745 8Then look I, death my days should expiate.] I do not comprehend how the poet's days were to be expiated by death. Perhaps he wrote: &lblank; my days should expirate, i. e. bring them to an end. In this sense our author uses the verb expire, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; and expire the term “Of a despised life.” I am sure I have met with the verb I would supply, though I have no example of it to offer in support of my conjecture. Shakspeare, however, delights to introduce words with this termination. Thus we meet with festinate and conspirate, in K. Lear; combinate in Measure for Measure; and ruinate, in K. Henry VI. Steevens. The old reading is, I believe, right. Then do I expect, says Shakspeare, that death should fill up the measure of my days. The word expiate is used nearly in the same sense in the tragedy of Locrine, 1595: “Lives Sabren yet to expiate my wrath?” i. e. fully to satisfy my wrath. Malone.

Note return to page 746 9As an unperfect actor on the stage,] From the introductory lines of this Sonnet, it may be conjectured that these poems were not composed till after our author had arrived in London, and became conversant with the stage. He had perhaps himself experienced what he here describes. Malone. It is highly probable that our author had seen plays represented, before he left his own country, by the servants of Lord Warwick. Most of our ancient noblemen had some company of comedians who enrolled themselves among their vassals, and sheltered themselves under their protection. See notes on The Taming of the Shrew, edit. 1778, Vol. III. p. 403, and 404. Steevens. The seeing a few plays exhibited by a company of strollers in a barn at Stratford, or in Warwick castle, would not however have made Shakspeare acquainted with the feelings of a timid actor on the stage. It has never been supposed that our author was himself a player before he came to London. Whether the lines before us were founded on experience, or observation, cannot now be ascertained. What I have advanced is merely conjectural. Malone.

Note return to page 747 1O let my books be then the eloquence,] A gentleman to whom I am indebted for the observations which are marked with the letter C, would read: O let my looks &c. But the context, I think, shows that the old copy is right. The poet finding that he could not sufficiently collect his thoughts to express his esteem by speech, requests that his writings may speak for him. So afterwards: “O learn to read what silent love hath writ.” Had looks been the author's word, he hardly would have used it again in the next line but one. Malone.

Note return to page 748 2And dumb presagers of my speaking breast;] So, in K. John: “And sullen presage of your own decay.” Malone.

Note return to page 749 *Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, &c.] Compare Wolsey's speech in K. Henry VIII. Vol. VII. p. 272. edit. 1778: “This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth “The tender leaves of hope &c” Malone.

Note return to page 750 3The painful warrior famoused for worth, After a thousand victories once foil'd, Is from the book of honour razed quite,] In all the preceding verses of this little poem the alternate rhime is regularly preserved; here in the first and third lines it is interrupted. There are two ways of restoring the text. We must either read in the third line—razed forth, or in the first—famoused for fight. Perhaps this last emendation is to be preferred. Theobald. This stanza is not worth the labour that has been bestowed on it. By transposition, however, the rhime may be recovered, without further change: The painful warrior for worth famoused, After a thousand victories once foil'd, Is from the book of honour quite rased &lblank; “My name be blotted from the book of life,” is a line in K. Richard II. Steevens. Is from the book of honour rased quite,] So, in K. Rich. II: “&lblank; 'tis not my meaning “To raze one title of your honour out.” Mr. Theobald's emendation is, I think, right. Malone.

Note return to page 751 4Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Lay your highness' “Command upon me; to the which my duties “Are with a most indissoluble tye “For ever knit.” Steevens.

Note return to page 752 5Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this written embassage, To witness duty, not to show my wit.] So, in the Dedication of The Rape of Lucrece: “The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutor'd lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty should show greater; meantime, as it is, it is bound to your lordship.” C.

Note return to page 753 6Till whatsoever star that guides my moving, Points on me graciously with fair aspèct,] So, in Coriolanus: “As if that whatsoever God who leads him, “Were slily crept into his human powers, “And gave him graceful posture.” C.

Note return to page 754 7To shew me worthy of thy sweet respect:] The old copy has &lblank; of their sweet respect. It was evidently a misprint. The same mistake has several times happened in these Sonnets, owing probably to abbreviations having been formerly used for the words their and thy, so nearly resembling each other as not to be easily distinguished. I have observed the same error in some of the old English plays. Malone.

Note return to page 755 8For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)] We might better read: &lblank; (far from where I abide) Malone.

Note return to page 756 9Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,] The quarto reads corruptly: Presents their shadow &lblank; Malone.

Note return to page 757 1Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night, “Like a rich jewel in an Æthiop's ear.” Malone.

Note return to page 758 2When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild'st the even.] The quarto reads corruptedly: “&lblank; thou guil'st the even. Gild'st was formerly written—guild'st. Perhaps we should read: When sparkling stars twirl not &lblank; Malone. The word twire occurs in Chaucer. See Boethius, B. III. met. 2: “The bird twireth, desiring the wode with her swete voice.” Twireth (says Mr. Tyrwhitt) seems to be the translation of susurrat. In The Merchant of Venice, our author, speaking of the stars, has the following passage: “&lblank; Look how the floor of heaven “Is thick inlaid with pattens of bright gold: “There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st, “But in his motion like an angel sings, “Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubim.” Twire may perhaps have the same signification as quire. The poet's meaning will then amount to this—When the sparkling stars sing not in concert (as when they all appear he supposes them to do) thou mak'st the evening bright and cheerful. Still, however, twire may be a corruption. If it is, we may read twink for twinkle. Thus, in The Taming of the Shrew: “That in a twink she won me to her love.” Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “At first I did adore a twinkling star.” So much for guess-work. Steevens.

Note return to page 759 3But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.] An anonymous correspondent, whose favours are distinguished by the letter C, proposes to make the two concluding words of this couplet change places. But I believe the old copy to be right. Stronger cannot well apply to drawn out or protracted sorrow. The poet, in the first line, seems to allude to the operation of spinning. The day at each return draws out my sorrow to an immeasurable length, and every revolving night renders my protracted grief still more intense and painful. Malone.

Note return to page 760 4When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, &c.] This Sonnet appears to me peculiarly elegant and spirited. Malone.

Note return to page 761 5&lblank; and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;] The same image is presented in Cymbeline: “Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, “And Phœbus 'gins to rise” Malone.

Note return to page 762 6Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,] So, in Othello: “&lblank; whose subdu'd eyes, “Albeit unused to the melting mood, “Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees “Their med'cinable gum.” Malone.

Note return to page 763 7&lblank; in death's dateless night,] Shakspeare generally uses the word dateless for endless; having no certain time of expiration. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; seal with a righteous kiss “A dateless bargain to engrossing death.” Malone.

Note return to page 764 8And moan the expence of many a vanish'd sight.] I cannot see any connexion between this and the foregoing or subsequent lines; nor do I well understand what is meant by the expence of many a vanish'd sight. I suspect the author wrote: And moan the expence of many a vanish'd sigh, which in his time might have been pronounced so hard as to make some kind of rhime to night. So, in K. Henry VI: “&lblank; blood-consuming sighs.” Again, in Pericles: “Do not consume your blood with sorrowing.” Malone. Such laboured perplexities of language, and such studied deformities of style, prevail throughout these Sonnets, that the reader (after our best endeavours at explanation) will frequently find reason to exclaim with Imogen: “I see before me, neither here, nor here, “Nor what ensues; but have a fog in them “That I cannot look through.” I suppose, however, that by the expence of many a vanish'd sight, the poet means, the loss of many an object, which, being “gone hence, is no more seen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 765 9Which I new pay as if not pay'd before.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still.” Steevens.

Note return to page 766 1How many a holy and obsequious tear] Obsequious is funereal. So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; to do obsequious sorrow.” Malone.

Note return to page 767 2&lblank; that hidden in there lie!] Thus the old copy. The next line shows clearly that it is corrupt. Malone.

Note return to page 768 3Reserve them for my love, not for their rhime,] Reserve is the same as preserve. So, in Pericles: “Reserve that excellent complexion &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 769 4Had my friend's muse grown with this growing age,] We may hence, as well as from other circumstances, infer, that these were among our author's earliest compositions. Malone.

Note return to page 770 5Full many a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face &lblank;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day “Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast “The sun ariseth in his majesty; “Who doth the world so gloriously behold, “The cedar tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.” Malone.

Note return to page 771 6Kissing with golden face &c.] So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter?” Steevens.

Note return to page 772 7&lblank; with heavenly alchymy;] So, in K. John: “&lblank; the glorious sun “Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist.” Steevens.

Note return to page 773 8With ugly rack on his celestial face,] Rack is the fleeting motion of the clouds. The word is again used by Shakspeare in Antony and Cleopatra: “That which is now a horse, even with a thought “The rack dislimns.” Again, in Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess: “&lblank; shall I stray “In the middle air, and stay “The sailing rack &lblank;” Malone. Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face,] So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “&lblank; herein will I imitate the sun, “Who doth permit the base contagious clouds “To smother up his beauty from the world; “That when he please again to be himself, “Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, “By breaking through the foul and ugly mists “Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.” C.

Note return to page 774 9Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:] The article the may have been omitted through necessity; yet I believe our author wrote, to rest. Steevens.

Note return to page 775 1The region cloud &lblank;] i. e. the clouds of this region or country. So, in Hamlet: “I should have fatted all the region kites “With this slave's offal &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 776 2&lblank; their rotten smoke?] So, in Coriolanus: “&lblank; the reek o' the rotten fens.” Steevens.

Note return to page 777 3To him that bears the strong offence's cross.] The old copy reads loss here, as well as in the corresponding line. The word now substituted is used by our author (in the sense required here) in the 42d Sonnet: “And both for my sake lay on me this cross.” Again, in As you like it: “If I should bear you, I should bear no cross.” Malone.

Note return to page 778 4&lblank; salving thy amiss,] That is, thy misbehaviour. So, in Hamlet: “Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.” Malone.

Note return to page 779 5Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are:] The old copy has here also their twice instead of thy. The latter words of this line, which ever reading we adopt, are not very intelligible. Malone. Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are, I believe, means only this—Making the excuse more than proportioned to the offence. Steevens.

Note return to page 780 6For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,] Thus the quarto. The line appears to me unintelligible. Might we read: For to thy sensual fault I bring incènse &lblank; A jingle was evidently intended; but if this word was occasionally accented on the last syllable (as perhaps it might formerly have been) it would afford it as well as the reading of the old copy. Many words that are now accented on an early syllable, had formerly their accent on one more remote. Thus, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “It stands as an edìct in destiny.” Again, in Hamlet: “Did slay this Fortinbras, who by a seal'd compàct &lblank;” Again, in King Henry V: “'Tis no sinìster, nor no aukward claim &lblank;” Again, in Locrine, a tragedy, 1595: “Nor my exìle can move you to revenge.” Again, in our author's 50th Sonnet: “As if by some instìnct the wretch did find.” Again, in the 128th Sonnet: “Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “With pure aspècts did him peculiar duties.” Again, ibid: “If in thy hope thou dar'st do such outràge.” Again, ibid: “But her fore-sìght could not forestall their will.” Malone. I believe the old reading to be the true one. The passage, ditested of its jingle, seems designed to express this meaning—Towards thy exculpation, I bring in the aid of my soundest faculties, my keenest perception, my utmost strength of reason, my sense. I think I can venture to affirm that no English writer, either ancient or modern, serious or burlesque, ever accented the substantive incense on the last syllable. Steevens.

Note return to page 781 7Though in our lives a separable spite,] A cruel fate, that spitefully separates us from each other. Separable for separating. Malone.

Note return to page 782 8So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,] Dearest is most operative. So, in Hamlet: “Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven.” Malone. &lblank; made lame by fortune's dearest spite,] So, in K. Lear: “A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows.” Steevens.

Note return to page 783 9Entitled in their parts do crowned sit,] Here again the context shows that their was printed by mistake instead of thy. Malone. Entitled in thy parts &lblank;] So, with equal obscurity, in The Rape of Lucrece: “But beauty, in that white intituled, “From Venus doves doth challenge that fair field.” I suppose he means, that beauty takes its title from that fairness, or white. Steevens.

Note return to page 784 1(Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,)] Which (viz. entertaining the time with thoughts of love) doth so agreeably beguile the tediousness of absence from those we love, and the melancholy which that absence occasions. So, in Venus and Adonis: “A summer day will seem an hour but short, “Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.” Thought in ancient language meant melancholy. So, in Antony and Cleopatra, act IV. sc. 6: “&lblank; but thought will do't, I fear.” Again, in Leland's Collectanea, vol. I. p. 234: “&lblank; their mother died for thought.” The poet, it is observable, has here used the Latin idiom, probably without knowing it: Jam vino quærens, jam somno fallere curam. The quarto reads: Which time and thoughts so sweetly dost deceive. But there is nothing to which dost can refer. The change being so small, I have placed doth in the text, which affords an easy sense. Malone.

Note return to page 785 2&lblank; how to make one twain, By praising him here, who doth hence remain.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Our separation so abides and flies, “That thou residing here, go'st yet with me, “And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.” Steevens.

Note return to page 786 3&lblank; for my love thou usest;] For has here the signification of because. Malone.

Note return to page 787 4But yet be blam'd, if thou this self deceivest] Thus the quarto. It is evidently corrupt. Malone.

Note return to page 788 5Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assail'd;] So, in one of our author's plays: “She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; “She is a woman, therefore to be won.” Steevens.

Note return to page 789 6&lblank; till she have prevail'd.] The quarto reads: —till he have prevail'd. But the lady, and not the man, being in this case supposed the wooer, the poet without doubt wrote: &lblank; till she have prevail'd. The emendation was proposed to me by Mr. Tyrwhitt. Malone.

Note return to page 790 7Ah me! but yet thou might'st my seat forbear,] Surely here is a gross corruption. I do not hesitate to read: Ah me! but yet thou might'st, my sweet, forbear, And chide thy beauty &c. So, in the 76th Sonnet: “O know, sweet love, I always write of you.” Again, in the 89th Sonnet: “Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill &lblank;” Again, in the 40th Sonnet: “Take all my loves, my love &lblank;” Again, in another Sonnet:   “&lblank; in my sight, “Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside.” Malone.

Note return to page 791 8If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,] If I lose thee, my mistress gains by my loss. Malone.

Note return to page 792 9&lblank; thy fair imperfect shade] The quarto 1609, reads—their. The two words, it has been already observed, are frequently confounded in these Sonnets. Malone.

Note return to page 793 1All days are nights to see,] We should, perhaps, read: All days are nights to me. The compositor might have caught the word see from the end of the line. Malone. As, fair to see (an expression which occurs in a hundred of our old ballads) signifies fair to sight, so, all days are nights to see, means, all days are gloomy to be beheld, i. e. look like nights. Steevens.

Note return to page 794 2&lblank; do show thee me.] That is, do show thee to me. Malone.

Note return to page 795 3&lblank; can jump both sea and land,] So, in Macbeth: “We'd jump the life to come.” Malone.

Note return to page 796 4&lblank; so much of earth and water wrought,] i. e. being so thoroughly compounded of these two ponderous elements. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; I am air and fire, my other elements “I give to baser life.” Steevens.

Note return to page 797 5My life being made of four, &lblank;] So, in Much ado about Nothing: “Does not our life consist of the four elements?” Steevens.

Note return to page 798 6Of thy fair health, &lblank;] The old copy has: &lblank; their fair health. Malone.

Note return to page 799 7Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,] So, in a passage in Golding's Translation of Ovid, 1576, which our author has imitated in The Tempest (ante, p. 85): “Among the earth-bred brothers you a mortal war did set.” Malone.

Note return to page 800 8&lblank; thy picture's sight would bar,] Here also their was printed instead of thy. Malone.

Note return to page 801 9&lblank; thy fair appearance lies.] The quarto has their. In this Sonnet this mistake has happened four times. Malone.

Note return to page 802 1To 'cide this title is impannelled] To 'cide, for to decide. The old copy reads—side. Malone.

Note return to page 803 2A quest of thoughts, &lblank;] An inquest or jury. So, in K. Richard III: “What lawful quest have given their verdict up “Unto the frowning judge?” Malone.

Note return to page 804 3The clear eye's moiety, &lblank;] Moiety in ancient language signifies any portion of a thing, though the whole may not be equally divided. So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here, “In quantity equals not one of yours.” Here the division was into three parts. Malone.

Note return to page 805 4So either by thy picture or my love,] The modern editions read unintelligibly: So either by the picture of my love. Malone.

Note return to page 806 5Within the gentle closure of my breast,] So, in K. Rich. III: “Within the guilty closure of thy walls.” Steevens.

Note return to page 807 6For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.] So, in Venus and Adonis: “Rich preys make rich men thieves.” C.

Note return to page 808 7Whenas thy love has cast his utmost sum,] Whenas, in ancient language, was synonymous to when. Malone.

Note return to page 809 8When love, converted from the thing it was, Shall reasons find of settled gravity,] A sentiment somewhat similar, occurs in Julius Cæsar: “When love begins to sicken and decay, “It useth an enforced ceremony.” Steevens.

Note return to page 810 9&lblank; do I ensconce me here] I fortify myself. A sconce was a species of fortification. Malone.

Note return to page 811 1Thus far the miles are measur'd from thy friend!] So, in one of our author's plays: “Measuring our steps from a departed friend.” Steevens. Again, in K. Richard II: “&lblank; Every tedious stride I make, “Will but remember me what a deal of world “I wander from the jewels that I love.” Malone.

Note return to page 812 2Plods dully on, &lblank;] The quarto reads—Plods duly on. The context supports the reading that I have chosen. So, in the next Sonnet: “Thus can my love excuse the slow offence “Of my dull bearer.” Malone.

Note return to page 813 3When swift extremity can seem but slow?] So, in Macbeth: “The swiftest wing of recompence is slow.” Steevens.

Note return to page 814 4Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;] So, in Macbeth: “And Pity, like a naked new-born babe, “Striding the blast, or Heaven's cherubin, hors'd “Upon the sightless couriers of the air, “Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye.” It is likewise one of the employments of Ariel, “To run upon the sharp wind of the north.” Malone.

Note return to page 815 5Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his firy race;] The expression is here so uncouth, that I strongly suspect this line to be corrupt. Perhaps we should read: Shall neigh to dull flesh, in his firy race. Desire, in the ardour of impatience, shall call to the sluggish animal (the horse) to proceed with swifter motion. Malone. Perhaps this passage is only obscured by the aukward situation of the words no dull flesh. The sense may be this: “Therefore desire, being no dull piece of horse-flesh, but composed of the most perfect love, shall neigh as he proceeds in his hot career.” “A good piece of horse-flesh,” is a term still current in the stable. Such a profusion of words, and only to tell us that our author's passion was impetuous, though his horse was slow! Steevens.

Note return to page 816 6For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.] That is, for fear of blunting &c. Voluptates commendat rarior usus. Hor. Malone. &lblank; aciesque hebetatur amori Mutato toties. Alicubi. Steevens.

Note return to page 817 7Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth &c.] So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “If all the year were playing holidays, “To sport would be as tedious as to work; “But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come; “And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.” Malone. &lblank; feasts so solemn and so rare,] He means the four festivals of the year. Steevens.

Note return to page 818 8Or captain jewels in the carcanet.] Jewels of superior worth. So, in Timon of Athens: “The ass more captain than the lion, and the felon “Loaden with irons wiser than the judge.” Again, in the 66th Sonnet: “And captive Good attending captain Ill.” The carcanet was an ornament worn round the neck. Malone.

Note return to page 819 9Or as the wardrobe which the robe, doth hide, To make some special instant special-blest,] So, in King Henry IV. P. I: “Then did I keep my person fresh and new; “My presence, like a robe pontifical, “Ne'er seen but wonder'd at.” Steevens.

Note return to page 820 1&lblank; and the counterfeit] A counterfeit, it has been already observed, formerly signified a portrait. Malone.

Note return to page 821 2Speak of the spring, and foizon of the year;] Foizon is plenty. So, in The Tempest: “Earth's increase and foizon plenty, “Barns and garners, never empty.” Malone.

Note return to page 822 3The other as your bounty &lblank;] The foizon of plentiful season, that is, the autumn, is the emblem of your bounty. So, in The Tempest: “How does my bounteous sister [Ceres]?” Malone.

Note return to page 823 4The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye, As the perfumed tincture of the roses,] The canker is the canker-rose or dog-rose. The rose and the canker are opposed in like manner in Much ado about Nothing: “I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace.” Malone. Shakspeare had not yet begun to observe the productions of nature with accuracy, or his eyes would have convinced him that the cynorhodon is by no means of as deep a colour as the rose. But what has truth or nature to do with Sonnets? Steevens.

Note return to page 824 5When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:] So, in Hamlet: “The chariest maid is prodigal enough, “If she unmask her beauty to the moon: “Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes: “The canker galls the infants of the spring, “Too oft before their buttons be disclosed.” Malone.

Note return to page 825 6But, for their virtue &lblank;] For has here the signification of because. So, in Othello: “&lblank; haply for I am black,” Malone.

Note return to page 826 7&lblank; Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:] The same image occurs in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “&lblank; earthlier happy is the rose distill'd “Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, “Grow, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.” Malone.

Note return to page 827 8my verse distills your truth.] The quarto reads, I think, corruptedly: &lblank; by verse distills your truth. Malone.

Note return to page 828 9Not marble, nor the gilded monuments &c.] Exegi monumentum ære perennius, Regalique situ pyramidum altius. Hor. Malone.

Note return to page 829 1Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.] So, in All's Well that ends Well: “Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb “Of honour'd bones indeed.” Malone.

Note return to page 830 2When wasteful war shall statues overturn, &c.] Jamque opus exegi, quod nec Jovis ira nec ignes, Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas. Ovid. Malone.

Note return to page 831 3As call it winter, &lblank;] Should we not read: Or call it winter &lblank; Tyrwhitt. I have paid this conjecture the attention it deserves, by inserting the reading proposed by Mr. Tyrwhitt in the text. Malone.

Note return to page 832 4&lblank; the world-without-end hour,] The tedious hour, that seems as if it would never end. So, in Love's Labour's lost: “A time, methinks, too short “To make a world-without-end bargain in.” i. e. an everlasting bargain. This singular epithet our author borrowed probably from the Liturgy. Malone.

Note return to page 833 5And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check] So, in K. Lear: “A most poor man, made tame to Fortune's blows.” Malone.

Note return to page 834 6Do what you will &lblank;] The quarto reads: To what you will &lblank; There can, I think, be no doubt that To was a misprint. Malone.

Note return to page 835 7Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done!] Would that I could read a description of you in the earliest manuscript that appeared after the first use of letters. That this is the meaning appears clearly from the next line: “That I might see what the old world could say.” Again: “&lblank; the wits of former days &c.” Malone. This may allude to the ancient custom of inserting real portraits among the ornaments of illuminated manuscripts, with inscriptions under them. Steevens.

Note return to page 836 8&lblank; or whe'r better they] Whe'r for whether. The same abreviation occurs in Venus and Adonis, and in King John. Malone.

Note return to page 837 9Nativity once in the main of light,] In the great body of light. So, the main of waters. Malone.

Note return to page 838 1Time doth transfix the flourish &lblank;] The external decoration. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “Like painted trunks o'er-flourish'd by the devil.” Malone.

Note return to page 839 2And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,] Renders what was before smooth, rough and uneven. So, in the second Sonnet: “When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, “And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field.” Malone.

Note return to page 840 3And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand,] So, in K. Richard II: “Strong as a tower in hope, I say amen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 841 4Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,] Gracious was frequently used by our author and his contemporaries in the sense of beautiful. So, in King John: “There was not such a gracious creature born.” Malone.

Note return to page 842 5'Bated and chopp'd with tan'd antiquity,] The quarto has beated, which I suppose to have been a misprint for 'bated. 'Bated is properly overthrown; laid low; abated, from abattre, Fr. Hence (if this be the true reading) it is here used by our author with his usual licence, for disfigured; reduced to a lower or worse state than before. So, in The Merchant of Venice: “With 'bated breath and whispering humbleness.” Perhaps, however, the poet might have written—batter'd. So, in the next Sonnet: “With time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn.” Again, more appositely in the 65th Sonnet: “O how shall summer's honey breath hold out “Against the wreckful siege of battering days.” After all, beated, the regular participle from the verb to beat, may be right. We had in a former Sonnet—weather-beaten face. In K. Henry V. we meet—casted, and in Macbeth—thrusted. Malone. I think we should read blasted. So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “&lblank; every part about you blasted with antiquity” Steevens.

Note return to page 843 6With time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn;] The old copy reads chrusht. I suspect that our author wrote frush'd, a word that occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “I'll frush it, and unlock the rivets all.” Again, Holinshed in his Description of Ireland, p. 29: “When they are sore frusht with sickness, or so farre withered with age.” To say that a thing is first crush'd, and then over-worn, is little better than to observe of a man, that he was first killed, and then wounded. Steevens.

Note return to page 844 7&lblank; when his youthful morn Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night;] I once thought that the poet wrote—sleepy night. But the word travell'd shows, I think, that the old copy is right, however incongruous the epithet steepy may appear. So, in the 7th Sonnet: “Lo in the orient when the gracious light “Lifts up his burning head &lblank; “And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, “Resembling strong youth in his middle age.” The same opposition is found in the 15th Sonnet: “Then wasteful Time debateth with decay “To change your day of youth to sullied night.” Were it not for the antithesis which seems to have been intended between morn and night, we might read: &lblank; to age's steepy height. Malone. Age's steepy night seems to mean the precipice of age from which we are to plunge into darkness; or, in the words of Macbeth, “to jump the life to come.” Steevens.

Note return to page 845 8&lblank; the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,] So, Mortimer, in K. Henry IV. P. I. speaking of the Trent: “&lblank; he bears his course and runs me up “With like advantage on the other side, “Gelding the opposed continent as much.” Steevens.

Note return to page 846 9When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watry main, Increasing store with loss, and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state, &c.] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “O heaven! that one might read the book of fate; “And see the revolution of the times “Make mountains level, and the continent, “Weary of solid firmness, melt itself “Into the sea! and, other times, to see “The beachy girdle of the ocean “Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, “And changes fill the cup of alteration “With diverse liquors.” C.

Note return to page 847 1How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,] Shakspeare, I believe, wrote—with his rage—i. e. with the rage of Mortality. Malone.

Note return to page 848 2&lblank; the siege of battering days,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; the siege of loving terms.” Steevens.

Note return to page 849 3O fearful meditation? where, alack! Shall time's best jewel from time's chest lie hid?] If the reader has no clearer idea of “a jewel lying hid from a chest” than I have, he will agree with me in thinking this passage corrupt. Our author, I believe, wrote: Time's best jewel from time's quest lie hid. Time's best jewel was the poet's friend, who, he feared, would not be able to escape the quest or search of time, but fall a prey, however beautiful, to his all-subduing power. A jewel being mentioned, the copyist or printer thought it necessary to provide a casket for it.—Mr. Theobald had, I find, proposed the same alteration. Malone. Time's chest is the repository into which he is poetically supposed to throw those things which he designs to be forgotten. Thus, in Troilus and Cressida: “Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, “Wherein he puts alms for oblivion.” Again, in Sonnet LII: “So is the time that keeps you, as my chest.” The thief who evades pursuit, may be said with propriety to lie hid from justice, or from confinement. I see no more difficulty in this passage, than in a thousand others. Steevens. I once had great confidence in the emendation here proposed; but I am now satisfied that there is no need of change. The following lines in K. Richard II. add some support to the reading of the old copy; “A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest “Is—a bold spirit in a loyal breast.”9Q1289 The chest of Time is the repository where he lays up the most rare and curious productions of nature; one of which the poet esteemed his friend. &lblank; vobis male sit, malæ tenebræ Orci, quæ omnia bella devoratis. Catul. Malone.

Note return to page 850 4Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?] The reading of the quarto—his spoil or beauty, is manifestly a misprint. Malone.

Note return to page 851 *Tir'd with all these &c] Compare Hamlet's celebrated soliloquy with this Sonnet. C.

Note return to page 852 5And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,] Simplicity has here the signification of folly. Malone.

Note return to page 853 6And captive Good attending captain Ill:] So, in Timon: “&lblank; more captain than the lion.” Again, in another of these Sonnets: “Like captain jewels in the carcanet.” Malone.

Note return to page 854 7And lace itself with his society?] i. e. embellish itself. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; what envious streaks “Do lace the severing clouds.” Steevens.

Note return to page 855 8And steal dead seeing of his living hue?] Dr. Farmer would ead—seeming. Malone.

Note return to page 856 9&lblank; the map of days out-worn,] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Even so this pattern of the worn-out age “Pawn'd honest looks &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 857 1Before these bastard signs of fair were borne,] Fair was formerly used as a substantive, for beauty. Malone.

Note return to page 858 2Before the golden tresses of the dead, The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, To live a second life on second head,] Our author has again inveighed against this practice in The Merchant of Venice: “So are those crisped snaky golden locks, “Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, “Upon supposed fairness, often known “To be the dowry of a second head, “The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.” Again, in Timon of Athens:   “&lblank; thatch your poor thin roofs “With burdens of the dead.” “My lady (says a writer of the time of James I.) holdeth on her way, perhaps to the tire-maker's shop, where she shaketh out her crownes to bestowe upon some new fashioned attire;—upon such artificial deformed periwigs, that they were fitter to furnish a theatre, or for her that in a stage-play should represent some hag of hell, than to be used by a Christian woman.” The Honestie of this Age, proving by good Circumstance that the World was never honest till now. By Barnabe Rych. Quarto, 1615. In our author's time, the false hair usually worn, perhaps in compliment to the queen, was of a sandy colour. Hence the epithet golden. See Hentzner's Account of Queen Elizabeth. Malone.

Note return to page 859 3Without all ornament, itself, and true,] Surely we ought to read—himself, and true. In him the primitive simplicity of ancient times may be observed; in him, who scorns all adscititious ornaments, who appears in his native genuine state, [himself and true] &c. Malone

Note return to page 860 4All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due,] The quarto has end. For the present emendation (which the rhime requires) the reader is indebted to Mr. Tyrwhitt. The letters that compose the word due were probably transposed at the press, and the u inverted. Malone.

Note return to page 861 5Thy outward &lblank;] The quarto reads—Their. Malone.

Note return to page 862 6The solve is this, &lblank;] This is the solution. The quarto reads: The solye is this, &lblank; I have not found the word now placed in the text, in any author; but have inserted it rather than print what appears to me unintelligible. We meet a similar sentiment in the 102d Sonnet: “&lblank; sweets grown common lose their dear delight.” The modern editions read:—The toil is this &lblank; Malone. I believe we should read: The sole is this &lblank; i. e. here the only explanation lies; this is all. Steevens.

Note return to page 863 7The ornament of beauty is suspect,] Suspicion or slander is a constant attendant on beauty, and adds new lustre to it. Suspect is used as a substantive by Middleton also, in A Mad World my Masters, a comedy, 1608: “And poize her words i' the ballance of suspect.” Malone.

Note return to page 864 8Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time,] The old copy here, as in many other places, reads corruptly—Their worth &c. I strongly suspect the latter words of this line also to be corrupt. What idea does worth woo'd of [that is, by] time present? Shall we boldly read: &lblank; being void of crime; That is, thou being &c. Malone. Perhaps we are to disentangle the transposition of the passage, thus: So thou be good, slander, being woo'd of time, doth but approve thy worth the greater. i. e. if you are virtuous, slander, being the favorite of the age, only stamps the stronger mark of approbation on your merit. I have already shewn, on the authority of Ben Jonson, that “of time” means, of the then present one. See note on Hamlet edit. 1778, Vol. X. p. 277. Steevens. Might we not read &lblank; being wood oftime? taking wood for an epithet applied to slander, signifying frantic, doing mischief at random. Shakspeare often uses this old word. So, in Venus and Adonis: “Life-poisoning pestilence, and frenzies wood.” I am far from being satisfied with this conjecture, but can make no sense of the words as they are printed. C.

Note return to page 865 9For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,] So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona:   “As in the sweetest buds “The eating canker dwells, so eating love “Inhabits in the finest wits of all.” C.

Note return to page 866 1&lblank; should'st owe,] That is, should possess. Malone.

Note return to page 867 2Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled] So, in K. Hen. IV. P. II:   “&lblank; and his tongue “Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, “Remember'd knolling a departed friend.” Malone.

Note return to page 868 3When I perhaps compounded am with clay,] Compounded is mixed, blended. So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “Only compound me with forgotten dust.” Malone.

Note return to page 869 4When yellow leaves &c.] So, in Macbeth:   “&lblank; my may of life “Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf.” Steevens.

Note return to page 870 5Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.] The quarto has—Bare rn'w'd quiers—from which the reader must extract what meaning he can. The edition of our author's poems in 1640, has—ruin'd.—Quires or choirs here means that part of cathedrals where divine service is performed, to which, when uncovered and in ruins, “A naked subject to the weeping clouds,” the poet compares the trees at the end of autumn, stripped of that foliage which at once invited and sheltered the feathered songsters of summer. So, in Cymbeline:   “Then was I as a tree “Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, “A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, “Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, “And left me bare to weather.” Malone. This image was probably suggested to Shakspeare by our desolated monasteries. The resemblance between the vaulting of a Gothick isle, and an avenue of trees whose upper branches meet and form an arch over-head, is too striking not to be acknowledged. When the roof of the one is shattered, and the boughs of the other leafless, the comparison becomes yet more solemn and picturesque. Steevens.

Note return to page 871 *Which by and by black night doth take away,] So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “And by and by a cloud takes all away.” Steevens.

Note return to page 872 6&lblank; such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,] So, Chaucer: “Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken. See note on Antony and Cleopatra, Vol. VIII. p. 300. Steevens.

Note return to page 873 7&lblank; when that fell arrest Without all bail shall carry me away,] So, in Hamlet: “Had I but time, (as this fell serjeant, death, “Is strict in his arrest) O I could tell you, &lblank; “But let it be” C.

Note return to page 874 8The earth can have but earth, &lblank;] Shakspeare seems here to have had the burial service in his thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 875 *&lblank; and this with thee remains.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “And I hence fleeting, here remain with thee.” Steev.

Note return to page 876 9And for the peace of you I hold such strife] The context seems to require that we should rather read: &lblank; for the price of you—or—for the sake of you. The conflicting passions described by the poet were not produced by a regard to the ease or quiet of his friend, but by the high value he set on his esteem: yet as there seems to have been an opposition intended between peace and strife, I have made no alteration in the text. Malone.

Note return to page 877 1&lblank; clean starved for a look,] That is, wholly starved. So, in Julius Cæsar: “Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.” Malone. So, in The Comedy of Errors: “While I at home starve for a merry look.” Steevens.

Note return to page 878 2Or gluttoning on all, or all away.] That is, either feeding on various dishes, or having nothing on my board,—all being away. We might read: Or gluttoning on all, or fall away. The expression is as ancient as our author's time. “Am I not fallen away vilely (says Falstaff) since the last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle?” Malone. The amendment proposed, is, I think, at once defective and unnecessary. The natural opposition to gluttoning on all, would be eating nothing. Instead of this, the reading fall away, presents us only with the effects of abstinence, instead of abstinence itself. We must therefore attempt to explain the original words. Perhaps, or all away, may signify, or away with all! i. e. I either devour like a glutton what is within my reach, or command all provisions to be removed out of my sight. Steevens.

Note return to page 879 3&lblank; in a noted weed,] i. e. in a dress by which it is always known, as those persons are who always wear the same colours. Steevens.

Note return to page 880 4That every word doth almost tell my name,] The quarto has: “fell my name. Malone.

Note return to page 881 5And of this book this learning may'st thou taste.] This, their, and thy, are so often confounded in these Sonnets, that it is only by attending to the context that we can discover which was the author's word. In the present instance, instead of this book, should we not read thy book? So, in the last line of this Sonnet: “These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, “Will profit thee, and much enrich thy book.” Malone. Probably this Sonnet was designed to accompany a present of a book consisting of blank paper. Were such the case, the old reading (this book) may stand. Lord Orrery sent a birth-day gift of the same kind to Swift, together with a copy of verses of the same tendency. Steevens. This conjecture appears to me extremely probable. We learn from the 122d Sonnet that Shakspeare received a table-book from his friend. Malone.

Note return to page 882 6Of mouthed graves &lblank;] That is, of all-devouring graves. Thus, in K. Richard III: “&lblank; in the swallowing gulph “Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “What is thy body but a swallowing grave?” Again, in K. John: “O now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; “And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men.” Malone.

Note return to page 883 7Commit to these waste blacks, &lblank;] What meaning does blacks convey here? Let us examine a few of the verses that precede these, and see if from thence we may borrow any instruction: “Thy glass will shew thee how thy beauties wear, “Thy dial, how thy precious minutes waste; “The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, “And of this book this learning may'st thou taste.” Our poet must have written in the place first quoted—waste blanks; i. e. these vacant leaves, as he calls them in the other quotation. Theobald.

Note return to page 884 8And heavy ignorance aloft to fly.] So, in Othello: “O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst, best.” Does not this line seem to favour a conjecture, proposed by Dr. Johnson, in The Merry Wives of Windsor,—“Ignorance itself is a plummet over me &lblank;” where he would read—“has a plume o' me?” He has indeed given a different interpretation; but if plume be right, the present line might lead one to think that Falstaff meant to say, that even ignorance, however heavy, could soar above him. Malone.

Note return to page 885 *Have added feathers to the learned's wing,] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; your lord, “(The best feather of our wing) &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 886 9Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,] Spirit is here, as in many other places, used as a monosyllable. Curiosity will naturally endeavour to find out who this better spirit was, to whom even Shakspeare acknowledges himself inferior. There was certainly no poet in his own time with whom he needed to have feared a comparison; but these Sonnets being probably written when his name was but little known, and at a time when Spenser was in the zenith of his reputation, I imagine he was the person here alluded to. Malone.

Note return to page 887 1The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,] The same thought occurs in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; The sea being smooth, “How many shallow bauble boats dare sail “Upon her patient breast, making their way “With those of nobler bulk?—where's then the saucy boat?” See note on Troilus and Cressida, last edit. Vol. IX. p. 28. Steevens.

Note return to page 888 2The barren tender of a poet's debt:] So, the poet in Timon:     “&lblank; all minds   “&lblank; tender down “Their services to lord Timon.” Again, in K. John: “And the like tender of our love we make.” Malone.

Note return to page 889 3And therefore have I slept in your report,] And therefore I have not sounded your praises. Malone. The same phrase occurs in K. Henry VIII: “&lblank; Heaven will one day open “The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon “This bold, bad man.” Again, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “&lblank; hung their eyelids down, “Slept in his face.” Steevens.

Note return to page 890 4How far a modern quill doth come too short,] Modern seems to have formerly signified common or trite. So, in As you like it: “Full of wise saws and modern instances.” Malone. See note on K. John, p. 76. last edit. Steevens.

Note return to page 891 5&lblank; what worth in you doth grow.] We might better read: &lblank; that worth in you doth grow. i. e. that worth, which &c. Malone.

Note return to page 892 6When others would give life, and bring a tomb.] When others endeavour to celebrate your character, while in fact they disgrace it by the meanness of their compositions. Malone.

Note return to page 893 7Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.] i. e. being fond of such panegyrick as debases what is praiseworthy in you, instead of exalting it. On in ancient books is often printed for of. It may mean, “behaving foolishly on receiving praise.” Steevens.

Note return to page 894 8Reserve their character with golden quill,] Reserve has here the sense of preserve. See p. 607. note 3. Malone.

Note return to page 895 9Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “The earth that's nature's mother, is her tomb; “What is her burying grave that is her womb.” Again, in Pericles: “For he's their parent and he is their grave.” So also, Milton: “The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.” Malone.

Note return to page 896 1&lblank; that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,] Alluding perhaps to the celebrated Dr. Dee's pretended intercourse with an angel, and other familiar spirits. Steevens.

Note return to page 897 2&lblank; fil'd up his line,] i. e. polish'd it. So, in Ben Jonson's Verses on Shakspeare: “In his well-torned and true-filed lines.” Steevens.

Note return to page 898 *In sleep a king, &lblank;] Thus, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; I dreamt &c. “That I reviv'd and was an emperor.” Steevens.

Note return to page 899 3And place my merit in the eye of Scorn,] Our author has again personified Scorn in Othello: “A fixed figure, for the time of Scorn “To point his slow unmoving finger at.” Malone.

Note return to page 900 4&lblank; I can set down a story Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted;] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my mother had not borne me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 901 5I will acquaintance strangle, &lblank;] I will put an end to our familiarity. This singular expression is likewise used by Daniel in his Cleopatra, 1594: “Rocks strangle up thy waves, “Stop cataracts thy fall!” Malone. This uncouth phrase seems to have been a favourite with Shakspeare, who uses it again in Macbeth: “&lblank; night strangles the travelling lamp.” Steevens.

Note return to page 902 6Be absent from thy walks;] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; “Hop in his walks.” Malone.

Note return to page 903 *Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “But with a rearward following Tybalt's death &c.” Steev.

Note return to page 904 7Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,] So, in Cymbeline: “Richer than doing nothing for a bauble; “Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk.” Steevens.

Note return to page 905 8So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; &lblank;] Mr. Oldys observes in one of his manuscripts, that this and the preceding Sonnet “seem to have been addressed by Shakspeare to his beautiful wife on some suspicion of her infidelity.” He must have read our author's poems with but little attention; otherwise he would have seen that these, as well as all the preceding Sonnets, and many of those that follow, are not addressed to a female. I do not know whether this antiquarian had any other authority than his misapprehension concerning these lines, for the epithet by which he has described our great poet's wife. He had made very large collections for a life of our author, and perhaps in the course of his researches had learned this particular. However this may have been, the other part of his conjecture (that Shakspeare was jealous of her) may perhaps be thought to derive some probability from the following circumstances. It is observable, that his daughter, and not his wife, is his executor; and in his Will, he bequeaths the latter only an old piece of furniture; nor did he even think of her till the whole was finished, the clause relating to her being an interlineation. What provision was made for her by settlement, does not appear. It may likewise be remarked, that jealousy is the principal hinge of four of his plays; and in his great performance (Othello) some of the passages are written with such exquisite feeling, as might lead us to suspect that the author had himself been perplexed with doubts, though not perhaps in the extreme.—By the same mode of reasoning, it may be said, he might be proved to have stabbed his friend, or to have had a thankless child; because he has so admirably described the horror consequent on murder, and the effects of filial ingratitude, in K. Lear, and Macbeth He could indeed assume all shapes; and therefore it must be acknowledged that the present hypothesis is built on an uncertain foundation. All I mean to say is, that he appears to me to have written more immediately from the heart on the subject of jealousy, than on any other; and it is therefore not improbable he might have felt it. The whole is mere conjecture. Malone. As all that is known with any degree of certainty concerning Shakspeare, is—that he was born at Stratford upon Avon,—married and had children there,—went to London, where he commenced actor, and wrote poems and plays,—returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried,—I must confess my readiness to combat every unfounded supposition respecting the particular occurrences of his life* [Footnote: 4Kb]

Note return to page 906 *I take the same opportunity to avow my disbelief that Shakspeare was the author of Mr. Combe's Epitaph, or that it was written by any other person at the request of that gentleman. If Betterton the player did really visit Warwickshire for the sake of collecting anecdotes relative to our author, perhaps he was too easily satisfied with such as fell in his way, without making any rigid search into their authenticity. It appears also from a following copy of this inscription, that it was not ascribed to Shakspeare so early as two years after his death. Mr. Reed of Staple Inn obligingly pointed it out to me in the Remains &c. of Richard Brathwaite, 1618; and as his edition of our epitaph varies in some measure from the later one published by Mr. Rowe, I shall not hesitate to transcribe it: “Upon one John Combe of Stratford upon Aven, a notable Usurer, fastened upon a Tombe that he had caused to be built in his Life Time. “Ten in the hundred must lie in his grave, “But a hundred to ten whether God will him have: “Who then must be interr'd in this tombe? “Oh (quoth the divell) my John a Combe.” Here it may be observed that, strictly speaking, this is no jocular epitaph, but a malevolent prediction; and Braithwaite's copy is surely more to be depended on (being procured in or before the year 1618) than that delivered to Betterton or Rowe, almost a century afterwards. It has been already remarked, (see Mr. Malone's Supplemental observations on the last edition of Shakspeare, p. 67.) that two of the lines said to have been produced on this occasion, were printed as an epigram in 1608, by H. P. Gent. and are likewise found in Camden's Remains, 1614. I may add, that a usurer's solicitude to know what would be reported of him when he was dead, is not a very probable circumstance; neither was Shakspeare of a disposition to compose an invective, at once so bitter and uncharitable, during a pleasant conversation among the common friends [See Rowe's Life &c.] of himself and a gentleman, with whose family he lived in such friendship, that at his death he bequeathed his sword to Mr. Thomas Combe as a legacy. A miser's monument indeed, constructed during his life time, might be regarded as a challenge to satire; and we cannot wonder that anonymous lampoons should have been affixed to the marble designed to convey the character of such a being to posterity.—I hope I may be excused for this attempt to vindicate Shakspeare from the imputation of having poisoned the hour of confidence and festivity, by producing the severest of all censures on one of his company. I am unwilling, in short, to think he could so wantonly and so publickly have expressed his doubts concerning the salvation of one of his fellow-creatures.

Note return to page 907 9In many's looks, the false heart's history Is writ, &lblank;] In Macbeth a contrary sentiment is asserted: “&lblank; There is no art “To find the mind's construction in the face.” Malone. Thus, in Gray's Church-yard Elegy: “And read their history in a nation's eyes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 908 1They are the lords and owners of their faces,] So, in K. John: “Lord of thy presence, and no land beside.” Malone.

Note return to page 909 2Lillies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.] This line is likewise sound in the anonymous play of K. Edward III. 1599. Steevens.

Note return to page 910 3Naming thy name blesses an ill report.] The same ideas offer in the speech of Ænobarbus to Agrippa in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; For vilest things “Become themselves in her; that the holy priests “Bless her when she is riggish.” Steevens.

Note return to page 911 4Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less:] By great and small. So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “The more and less came in &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 912 5If like a lamb he could his looks translate!] If he could change his natural look, and assume the innocent visage of the lamb. So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; to present slaves and servants “Translates his rivals.” Malone.

Note return to page 913 6But do not so: I love thee in such sort, &c.] This is likewise the concluding couplet of the 36th Sonnet. Malone.

Note return to page 914 7How like a winter hath my absence been &c.] In this and the two following Sonnets the pencil of Shakspeare is very discernible. Malone.

Note return to page 915 8And yet this time remov'd &lblank;] This time in which I was remote or absent from thee. So, in Measure for Measure: “He ever lov'd the life remov'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 916 9The teeming autumn big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,] So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “The spring, the summer, “The childing autumn, angry winter, change “Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world “By their increase now knows not which is which.” The prime is the spring. Malone.

Note return to page 917 1&lblank; in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Such comfort as do lusty young men feel “When well-apparel'd April on the heel “Of limping winter treads.” Malone.

Note return to page 918 2Could make me any summer's story tell,] By a summer's story Shakspeare seems to have meant some gay fiction. Thus, his comedy founded on the adventures of the king and queen of the fairies, he calls A Midsummer Night's Dream. On the other hand, in The Winter's Tale he tells us, “a sad tale's best for winter.” So also, in Cymbeline:   “&lblank; if it be summer news, “Smile to it before: if winterly, thou need'st “But keep that countenance still.” Malone.

Note return to page 919 3Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:] So, in K. Richard II: “Who are the violets now “That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?” Malone.

Note return to page 920 4They were but sweet, but figures of delight,] What more could be expected from flowers than that they should be sweet? To gratify the smell is their highest praise. I suspect the compositor caught the word but from the latter part of the line, and would read: They were, my sweet, but figures of delight. So, in the 109th Sonnet: “Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.” Malone. The old reading is surely the true one. The poet refuses to enlarge on the beauty of the flowers, declaring that they are only sweet, only delightful, so far as they resemble his friend. Steevens. Nearly this meaning the lines, after the emendation proposed, will still supply. In the preceding couplet the colour, not the sweetness, of the flowers is mentioned; and in the subsequent line the words drawn and pattern relate only to their external appearance. Malone.

Note return to page 921 5The lily I condemned for thy hand,] I condemned the lily for presuming to emulate the whiteness of thy hand. Malone.

Note return to page 922 6One blushing shame, another white despair,] The old copy reads: Our blushing shame, another white despair. Our was evidently a misprint. Malone. All this conceit about the colour of the roses is repeated again in K. Henry VI. P. I: “&lblank; Your cheeks do counterfeit our roses, “For pale they look with fear. &lblank; thy cheeks “Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses.” Steevens.

Note return to page 923 7A vengeful canker eat him up to death.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.” Again, in Venus and Adonis: “This canker that eats up love's tender spring.” Malone.

Note return to page 924 8So thou prevent'st his scythe, &c.] i. e. so by anticipation thou hinderest the destructive effects of his weapons. Steevens.

Note return to page 925 9That love is merchandiz'd &lblank;] This expression may serve to support the old reading of a passage in Macbeth: “&lblank; the feast is sold “That is not often vouch'd &c.” where Pope would read cold. Malone. “That love is merchandiz'd, whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.] So, in Love's Labour's lost: “&lblank; my beauty though but mean, “Needs not the painted flourish of your praise; “Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, “Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues.” C.

Note return to page 926 1Our love was new &lblank;] The numerous expressions of this kind that occur in these Sonnets cannot but appear strange to a modern reader. In justice therefore to our author, it is proper to observe, that they were the common language of the time. B. Jonson concludes one of his letters to Dr. Donne by telling him that he is his “ever true lover;” and Drayton, in a letter to Mr. Drummond of Hawthornden, informs him, that Mr. Joseph Davis is in love with him. Malone.

Note return to page 927 2As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,] In the beginning of summer. We meet a kindred expression in K. Henry IV. P. II: “&lblank; thou art a summer bird, “Which ever in the haunch of winter sings “The lifting up of day.” Malone.

Note return to page 928 3&lblank; their dear delight.] This epithet has been adopted by Pope: “Peace is my dear delight, not Fleury's more.” Malone.

Note return to page 929 4&lblank; a face, That over-goes my blunt invention quite,] So, in Othello: “&lblank; a maid, “One that excells the quirks of blazoning pens.” Again, in The Tempest: “For thou wilt find she will out-strip all praise, “And make it halt behind her.” Steevens.

Note return to page 930 5&lblank; striving to mend, To mar the subject that before was well?] So, in K. John: “When workmen strive to do better than well, “They do confound their skill.” Steevens.

Note return to page 931 6Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “Let two more summers wither in their pride.” Steevens.

Note return to page 932 7Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; my May of life “Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf.” Malone.

Note return to page 933 8Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand, Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv'd,] So, before: “Thou by thy dial's shady stealth may know “Time's thievish progress to eternity.” Again, in K. Richard III: “&lblank; mellow'd by the stealing hours of time.” Malone.

Note return to page 934 9So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, Hath motion, &lblank;] So, in The Winter's Tale: “The fixure of her eye hath motion in it.” Malone. Again, in Othello: “&lblank; for the time of scorn “To point his slow, unmoving finger at.” Steevens.

Note return to page 935 1Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,] So, in Twelfth Night: “Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, &c. “Do give thee five-fold blazon.” Steevens.

Note return to page 936 2&lblank; such a beauty as you master now.] So, in K. Henry V: “Between the promise of his greener days, “And those he masters now.” Steevens.

Note return to page 937 3They had not skill enough your worth to sing:] The old copy has: They had not still enough &lblank; For the present emendation the reader is indebted to Mr. Tyrwhitt. Malone.

Note return to page 938 4&lblank; the prophetick soul] So, in Hamlet: “Oh my prophetick soul! mine uncle.” Steevens.

Note return to page 939 5The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Alas, our terrene moon is now eclips'd!” Steevens.

Note return to page 940 6And the sad augurs mock their own presage,] I suppose he means that they laugh at the futility of their own predictions. Steevens.

Note return to page 941 7&lblank; and Death to me subscribes,] Acknowledges me his superior. Malone.

Note return to page 942 8&lblank; what new to register,] The quarto is here manifestly erroneous. It reads: &lblank; what now to register. Malone.

Note return to page 943 9&lblank; in love's fresh case,] By the case of love the poet means his own compositions. Malone.

Note return to page 944 1Weighs not the dust &c.] A passage in Love's Labour's lost will at once exemplify and explain this phrase: “You weigh me not,—O, that's you care not for me.” Steevens.

Note return to page 945 2That is my home of love: if I have rang'd, Like him that travels, I return again.] Thus, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “My heart with her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, “And now to Helen it is home return'd.” So also, Prior: “No matter what beauties I saw in my way, “They were but my visits, but thou art my home.” Malone.

Note return to page 946 3All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,] So, in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; Nature “To whom all sores lay siege.” Steevens.

Note return to page 947 4And made myself a motley to the view,] Appeared like a fool; (of whom the dress was formerly a motley coat.) Malone.

Note return to page 948 5Gor'd mine own thoughts, &lblank;] I know not whether this be a quaintness, or a corruption. Steevens.

Note return to page 949 6These blenches gave my heart another youth,] These starts or aberrations from rectitude. So, in Hamlet: “I'll observe his looks; “I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench, “I know my course.” Malone.

Note return to page 950 7Now all is done, have what shall have no end,] This line appearing to me unintelligible, I have adopted a conjectural reading suggested by Mr. Tyrwhitt. Malone.

Note return to page 951 8O for my sake do you with fortune chide,] The quarto is here evidently corrupt. It reads—wish fortune chide. Malone. To chide with fortune is to quarrel with it. So, in Othello: “The business of the state does him offence, “And he does chide with you.” Steevens.

Note return to page 952 9Than publick means, which publick manners breeds.] The author seems here to lament his being reduced to the necessity of appearing on the stage, or writing for the theatre. Malone.

Note return to page 953 1Potions of eysell, 'gainst my strong infection;] Eysell is vinegar. So, in A mery Geste of the Frere and the Boye: “God that dyed for us all, “And dranke both eysell and gall.” Steevens. Vinegar is esteemed very efficacious in preventing the communication of the plague and other contagious distempers. Malone.

Note return to page 954 2For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?] I am indifferent to the opinion of the world, if you do but throw a friendly veil over my faults, and approve of my virtues. The allusion seems to be either to the practice of covering a bare coarse piece of ground with fresh green-sward, or to that of planting ivy or jessamine to conceal an unsightly building. To allow, in ancient language, is to approve. Malone. I would read: &lblank; o'er-grieve my bad, &lblank; i. e. I care not what is said of me, so that you compassionate my failings and approve my virtues. Steevens.

Note return to page 955 3That my steel'd sense or changes, right or wrong.] It appears from the next line but one, that sense is here used for senses. We might better read: &lblank; e'er changes, right or wrong. Malone. None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steel'd sense or changes, right or wrong,] The meaning of this purblind and obscure stuff seems to be—You are the only person who has power to change my stubborn resolution either to what is right, or to what is wrong. Steevens.

Note return to page 956 4In so profound abysm I throw all care] Our author uses this word likewise in the Tempest, and Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; the abysm of time,” and “&lblank; the abysm of hell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 957 5&lblank; that my adder's sense To critick and to flatterer stopped are:] That my ears are equally deaf to the snarling censurer, and the flattering encomiast. Critick for cynick. So, in Love's Labour's lost: “And critick Timon laugh at idle toys.” Our author again alludes to the deafness of the adder in Troilus and Cressida: “&lblank; ears more deaf than adders to the voice “Of any true decision.” Malone.

Note return to page 958 6That all the world besides me thinks y'are dead.] Thus the quarto. The context rather requires that we should read: That all the world besides you thinks me dead. i. e. all the world except you &c. So before: “None else to me, nor I to none alive.” Malone. I would read, if alteration be necessary, That all the world besides, methinks, is [or are] dead. The sense would be this—I pay no regard to the sentiments of mankind; and observe how I account for this my indifference. I think so much of you, that I have no leisure to be anxious about the opinions of others. I proceed as if the world, yourself excepted, were no more. Steevens. I have followed the regulation proposed by Mr. Steevens, which was likewise suggested by an anonymous correspondent, whose favours have been already acknowledged. Malone.

Note return to page 959 7&lblank; mine eye is in my mind,] We meet the same phrase in Hamlet: “In my mind's eye, Horatio.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind.” Malone.

Note return to page 960 8Doth part his function, &lblank;] That is, partly performs his office. Malone.

Note return to page 961 9Seems seeing, but effectually is out:] So, in Macbeth: “Doct. You see her eyes are open. “Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.” Steevens.

Note return to page 962 1My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.] Thus the quarto. If there be no corruption, the word untrue must be considered as a substantive. The sincerity of my affection is the cause of my untruth; i. e. of my not seeing objects truly, such as they appear to the rest of mankind.9Q1294 So Milton: “&lblank; grace descending had remov'd “The stony from their hearts.” We might read: My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue. Or— Thy most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. The old copy having maketh, and the metre being complete without any additional word, the latter emendation appears to me the best. However, as the line is intelligible as it stands, and the licentious use of the adjective is much in our author's manner, no change is necessary. Malone.

Note return to page 963 2Creating every bad a perfect best,] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; creating you “Of every creature's best.” Steevens.

Note return to page 964 3&lblank; what with his gust is 'greeing,] That is, what is pleasing to the taste of my mind. Malone.

Note return to page 965 4Let me not to the marriage of true minds] To the sympathetick union of souls. So, in Romeo and Juliet [4to, 1599]: “Examine every married lineament &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 966 5&lblank; Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, &c.] So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; Love's not love, “When it is mingled with regards, that stand “Aloof from th' entire point.” Steevens.

Note return to page 967 6O no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken;] So, in K. Henry VIII: “&lblank; though perils did “Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and “Appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty, “As doth the rock against the chiding stood, “Should the approach of this wild river break, “And stand unshaken yours.” Again, in Coriolanus: “Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, “And saving those that eye thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 968 7Love's not Time's fool, &lblank;] So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “But thought's the slave of life, and life Time's fool.” Malone.

Note return to page 969 8But bears it out even to the edge of doom.] So, in All's Well that ends Well: “We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, “To the extreme edge of hazard.” Malone.

Note return to page 970 9Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;] So, in K. Rich. II:   “There is my bond of faith, “To tie thee to my strong correction.” Malone.

Note return to page 971 1Bring me within the level of your frown,] So, in King Henry VIII: “&lblank; I stood i' the level “Of a full-charg'd conspiracy.” Malone.

Note return to page 972 2&lblank; your waken'd hate:] So, in Othello: “Than answer my wak'd wrath.” Steevens.

Note return to page 973 3&lblank; rank of goodness, &lblank;] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Rank of gross diet.” Steevens.

Note return to page 974 4How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted In the distraction of this madding fever!] How have mine eyes been convulsed during the frantick fits of my feverous love! So, in Macbeth: “Then comes my fit again; I had else been perfect, “Whole as the marble &c.” The participle fitted, is not, I believe, used by any other author, in the sense in which it is here employed. Malone. We meet in Hamlet the same image as here: “Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres.” Steevens.

Note return to page 975 5O benefit of ill! now I find true That better is by evil still made better;] So, in As you like it: “Sweet are the uses of adversity.” Steevens.

Note return to page 976 *And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,] So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: “Shall love in building grow so ruinate?” Malone.

Note return to page 977 6&lblank; you have pass'd a hell of time;] So, in Othello: “But oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er, “Who doats, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves.” Again, in The Rape of Lucrece: “And that deep torture may be call'd a hell, “Where more is felt than one hath power to tell.” Malone. Again, in K. Richard III: “&lblank; for a season after, “Could not believe but that I was in hell.” Steevens.

Note return to page 978 7&lblank; might have remember'd] That is, might have reminded. So, in K. Richard II: “It doth remember me the more of sorrow.” Malone.

Note return to page 979 8&lblank; I am that I am, &lblank;] So, in K. Richard III: “&lblank; I am myself alone.” Steevens.

Note return to page 980 9&lblank; bevel;] i. e. crooked; a term used only, I believe, by masons and joiners. Steevens.

Note return to page 981 1&lblank; within my brain Full character'd with lasting memory,] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; from the table of my memory “I'll wipe away all trivial fond records &lblank; “And thy commandment all alone shall live “Within the book and volume of my brain.” Malone.

Note return to page 982 [2] Or at the least so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist;] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; Remember thee? “Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.” Steevens.

Note return to page 983 3That poor retention could not so much hold,] That poor retention is the table-book given to him by his friend, incapable of retaining, or rather of containing, so much as the tablet of the brain. Malone.

Note return to page 984 4But all alone stands hugely politick,] This line brings to mind Dr. Akinside's noble description of the Pantheon: “Mark how the dread Pantheon stands, “Amid the domes of modern hands! “Amid the toys of idle state, “How simply, how severely great!” Steevens.

Note return to page 985 5That it not grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.] Though a building may be drown'd, i. e. deluged by rain, it can hardly grow under the influence of heat.—I would read—glows. Steevens. Though the poet had compared his affection to a building, he seems to have deserted that thought; and here, perhaps, meant to allude to the progress of vegetation, and the accidents that retard it. So, in the 15th Sonnet: “When I perceive that every thing that grows, “Holds in perfection but a little moment— “When I perceive that men as plants increase, “Cheared and check'd even by the self-same sky &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 986 6&lblank; the fools of time; Which die for goodness, who have liv'd for crime.] Perhaps this is a stroke at some of Fox's Martyrs. Steevens.

Note return to page 987 7With my extern the outward honouring,] Thus, in Othello: “When my outward action doth demonstrate “The native act and figure of my heart “In compliment extern &lblank;” Steevens.

Note return to page 988 8Which is not mix'd wtth seconds, &lblank;] I am just informed by an old lady, that seconds is a provincial term for the second kind of flour, which is collected after the smaller bran is sifted. That our author's oblation was pure, unmixed with baser matter, is all that he meant to say. Steevens.

Note return to page 989 *O thou, my lovely boy, &lblank;] This Sonnet differs from all the others in the present collection, not being written in alternate rhimes. Malone.

Note return to page 990 9And her quietus &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “&lblank; might his quietus make “With a bare bodkin” See note on that passage, edit. 1778. Vol. X. p. 277. This Sonnet consists of only twelve lines. Steevens.

Note return to page 991 1In the old age &c.] The reader will find almost all that is said here on the subject of complexion, is repeated in Love's Labour's lost: “O, who can give an oath? where is a book?   “That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, “If that she learn not of her eye to look?   “No face is fair that is not full so black. “O, if in black my lady's brow be deck'd,   “It mourns, that painting and usurping hair “Should ravish doters with a false aspect;   “And therefore is she born to make black fair.” Steevens.

Note return to page 992 2In the old age &c.] All the remaining Sonnets are addressed to a female. Malone. A Sonnet was surely the contrivance of some literary Procrustes. The single thought of which it is to consist, however luxuriant, must be cramped within fourteen verses, or, however scanty, must be spun out into the same number. On a chain of certain links the existence of this metrical whim depends; and its reception is secure as soon as the admirers of it have counted their expected and statutable proportion of rhimes. The gratification of head or heart, is no object of the writer's ambition, That a few of these trifles deserving a better character may be found, I shall not venture to deny; for chance co-operating with art and genius, will occasionally produce wonders. Of the Sonnets before us, one hundred and twenty-six are inscribed (as Mr. Malone observes) to a friend: the remaining twenty-eight (a small proportion out of so many) are devoted to a mistress. Yet if our author's Ferdinand and Romeo had not expressed themselves in terms more familiar to human understanding, I believe few readers would have rejoiced in the happiness of the one, or sympathized with the sorrows of the other. Perhaps, indeed, quaintness, obscurity, and tautology, are to be regarded as the constituent parts of this exotick species of composition. But, in whatever the excellence of it may consist, I profess I am one of those who should have wished it to have expired in the country where it was born, had it not fortunately provoked the ridicule of Lope de Vega, which, being faintly imitated by Voiture, was at last transfused into English by Mr. Roderick, and exhibited as follows, in the second volume of Dodsley's Collection. A Sonnet. “Capricious Wray a sonnet needs must have;   “I ne'er was so put to't before:—a sonnet!   “Why, fourteen verses must be spent upon it: “'Tis good, howe'er, to have conquer'd the first stave. “Yet I shall ne'er find rhymes enough by half,   “Said I, and found myself i' the midst o' the second.   “If twice four verses were but fairly reckon'd, “I should turn back on th' hardest part, and laugh. “Thus far, with good success, I think I've scribled,   “And of the twice seven lines have clean got o'er ten. “Courage! another'll finish the first triplet.   “Thanks to thee, Muse, my work begins to shorten, “There's thirteen lines got through, driblet by driblet.   “'Tis done. Count how you will, I warr'nt there's fourteen.” Let those who might conceive this sonnet to be unpoetical, if compared with others by more eminent writers, peruse the next, being the eleventh in the collection of Milton. “A book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,   “And woven close, both matter, form and style;   “The subject new: it walk'd the town a while,   “Numb'ring good intellects; now seldom por'd on. “Cries the stall-reader, Bless us! what a word on   “A little page is this! and some in file   “Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile-   “End Green. Why is it harder Sirs than Gordon, “Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Gallasp?   “Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek,   “That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. “Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek,   “Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,   “When thou taught'st Cambridge, and king Edward Greek.” The reader may now proceed to more pieces of the same structure, which the friends of the late Mr. Edwards were willing to receive as effusions of fancy as well as friendship. If the appetite for such a mode of writing be even then unsatisfied, I hope that old Joshua Sylvester (I confess myself unacquainted with the extent of his labours) has likewise been a sonneteer; for surely his success in this form of poetry must have been transcendent indeed, and could not fail to afford complete gratification to the admirers of a stated number of lines composed in the highest strain of affectation, pedantry, circumlocution and nonsense. In the mean time, let inferiour writers be warned against a species of composition which has reduced the most exalted poets to a level with the meanest rhimers; has almost cut down Milton and Shakspeare to the standards of Pomfret and—but the name of Pomfret is perhaps the lowest in the scale of English versifiers. As for Mr. Malone, whose animadversions are to follow mine, “Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in.” Let me however borrow somewhat in my own favour from the same speech of Mercutio, by observing that “Laura had a better love to be-rhyme her.” Let me adopt also the sentiment which Shakspeare himself, on his amended judgment, has put into the mouth of his favourite character in Love's Labour's lost: “Tut! none but minstrels like of Sonneting.” Steevens. I do not feel any great propensity to stand forth as the champion of these compositions. However, as it appears to me that they have been somewhat under-rated, I think it incumbent on me to do them that justice to which they seem entitled. Of Petrarch (whose works I have never read) I cannot speak; but I am slow to believe that a writer who has been warmly admired for four centuries by his own countrymen, is without merit, though he has been guilty of the heinous offence of addressing his mistress in pieces of only that number of lines which by long usage has been appropriated to the sonnet. The burlesque stanzas which have been produced to depretiate the poems before us, it must be acknowledged, are not ill executed; but they will never decide the merit of this species of composition, until it shall be established that ridicule is the test of truth. The fourteen rugged lines that have been quoted from Milton for the same purpose, are equally inconclusive; for it is well known that he generally failed when he attempted rhime, whether his verses assumed the shape of a sonnet or any other form. These pieces of our author therefore must at last stand or fall by themselves. When they are described as a mass of affectation, pedantry, circumlocution, and nonsense, the picture appears to me overcharged. Their great defects seem to be a want of variety, and the majority of them not being directed to a female, to whom alone such ardent expressions of esteem could with propriety be addressed. It cannot be denied too that they contain some farfetched conceits; but are our author's plays entirely free from them? Many of the thoughts that occur in his dramatick productions, are found here likewise; as may appear from the numerous parallels that have been cited from his dramas, chiefly for the purpose of authenticating these poems. Had they therefore no other merit, they are entitled to our attention, as often illustrating obscure passages in his plays. I do not perceive that the versification of these pieces is less smooth and harmonious than that of Shakspeare's other compositions. Though many of them are not so simple and clear as they ought to be, yet some of them are written with perspicuity and energy. A few have been already pointed out as deserving this character; and many beautiful lines, scattered through these poems, will, it is supposed, strike every reader who is not determined to allow no praise to any species of poetry except blank verse or heroick couplets. Malone. The case of these Sonnets is certainly bad, when so little can be advanced in support of them. Ridicule is always successful where it is just. A burlesque on Alexander's Feast would do no injury to its original. Some of the rhime compositions of Milton (Sonnets excepted) are allowed to be eminently harmonious. Is it necessary on this occasion to particularize his Allegro, Penseroso, and Hymn on the Nativity? I must add, that there is more conceit in any thirty-six of Shakspeare's Sonnets, than in the same number of his Plays. When I know where that person is to be found who allows no praise to any species of poetry, except blank verse and heroic couplets, it will be early enough for me to undertake his defence. Steevens. That ridicule is generally successful when it is just, cannot be denied; but whether it be just in the present instance, is the point to be proved. It may be successful when it is not just; when neither the structure nor the thoughts of the poem ridiculed, deserve to be derided. No burlesque on Alexander's Feast certainly would render it ridiculous; yet undoubtedly a successful parody or burlesque piece might be formed upon it, which in itself might have intrinsick merit. The success of the burlesque therefore does not necessarily depend upon, nor ascertain, the demerit of the original. Of this Cotton's Virgil Travestie affords a decisive proof. The most rigid muscles must relax on the perusal of it; yet the purity and majesty of the Eneid will ever remain undiminished.—With respect to Milton, (of whom I have only said that he generally, not that he always failed in rhyming compositions,) Dryden, at a time when all rivalry and competition between them were at an end, when he had ceased to write for the stage, and when of course it was indifferent to him what metre was considered as best suited to dramatick compositions, pronounced, that he composed his great poem in blank verse, “because rhime was not his talent. He had neither (adds the Laureate) the ease of doing it, nor the graces of it; which is manifest in his Juvenilia or Verses written in his youth; where his rhime is always constrained, and forced, and comes hardly from him, at an age when the soul is most pliant, and the passion of love makes almost every man a rhimer, though not a poet.” Malone. Cotton's work is an innocent parody, was designed as no ridicule on the Æneid, and consequently will not operate to the disadvantage of that immortal poem. The contrary is the case with Mr. Roderick's imitation of the Spaniard. He wrote it as a ridicule on the structure, not the words of a Sonnet; and this is a purpose which it has completely answered. No one ever retired from a perusal of it with a favourable opinion of the species of composition it was meant to deride. The decisions of Dryden are never less to be trusted than when he treats of blank verse and rhime, each of which he has extolled and depreciated in its turn. When this subject is before him, his judgment is rarely secure from the seductions of convenience, interest or jealousy; and Gildon has well observed, that in his prefaces he had always confidence enough to defend and support his own most glaring inconsistencies and self-contradictions. What he has said of the author of Paradise Lost, is with a view to retaliation. Milton had invidiously asserted that Dryden was only a rhymist; and therefore Dryden, with as little regard to truth, has declared that Milton was no rhymist at all. Let my other sentiments shift for themselves. Here I shall drop the controversy. Steevens. In justice to Shakspeare, whose cause I have undertaken, however unequal to the task, I cannot forbear to add, that a literary Procrustes may as well be called the inventor of the couplet, the stanza, or the ode, as of the Sonnet. They are all in a certain degree restraints on the writer; and all poetry, if the objection now made be carried to its utmost extent, will be reduced to blank verse. The admirers of this kind of metre have long remarked with triumph that of the couplet the first line is generally for sense, and the next for rhime; and this certainly is often the case in the compositions of mere versifiers; but is such a redundancy an essential property of a couplet, and will the works of Dryden and Pope afford none of another character?—The bondage to which Pindar and his followers have submitted in the structure of strophé, antistrophé, and epode, is much greater than that which the Sonnet imposes. If the scanty thought be disgustingly dilated, or luxuriant ideas unnaturally compressed, what follows? Not surely that it is impossible to write good Odes, or good Sonnets, but that the poet was injudicious in the choice of his subject, or knew not how to adjust his metre to his thoughts. Malone.

Note return to page 993 3Her eyes so suited, &lblank;] Her eyes of the same colour as those of the raven. Malone.

Note return to page 994 4&lblank; and they mourners seem At such, who not born fair no beauty lack, Slandering creation with a false esteem:] They seem to mourn that those who are not born fair, are yet possessed of an artificial beauty, by which they pass for what they are not, and thus dishonour nature by their imperfect imitation and false pretensions. Malone.

Note return to page 995 5&lblank; becoming of their woe,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Fye, wrangling queen! “Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, “To weep.” Malone.

Note return to page 996 6&lblank; when thou, my musick, &lblank;] So, in Pericles: “You are a viol, and your sense the strings, “Which, finger'd to make man his lawful musick, &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 997 7The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,] We had the same expression before in the eighth Sonnet: “If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, “By unions married, do offend thine ear.” Malone.

Note return to page 998 8Do I envy those jacks, &lblank;] This word is accented by other ancient writers in the same manner. So, in Marlowe's Edward II. 1598: “If for these dignities thou be envy'd.” Malone.

Note return to page 999 9&lblank; those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand?] So, in Chrononthotonthologos: “&lblank; the tea-cups skip “With eager haste to kiss your royal lip.” Steevens. There is scarcely a writer of love-verses, among our elder poets, who has not introduced hyperboles as extravagant as that in the text. Thus Waller, in his Address to a Lady playing on the Lute: “The trembling strings about her fingers crowd, “And tell their joy for ev'ry kiss aloud.” Malone.

Note return to page 1000 1O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,] Here again their is printed in the old copy instead of thy. So also in the last line of this Sonnet. Malone.

Note return to page 1001 2Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,] He is here speaking of a small kind of spinnet, anciently called a virginal. So, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611: “Where be these rascals that skip up and down “Like virginal jacks?” See note on The Winter's Tale, edit. 1778. Vol. IV. p. 299. Steevens.

Note return to page 1002 3&lblank; and prov'd a very woe;] The quarto is here evidently corrupt. It reads: &lblank; and prov'd and very woe. Malone.

Note return to page 1003 4A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, One on another's neck &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “One woe doth tread upon another's heels, “So fast they follow.” Malone.

Note return to page 1004 5And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “&lblank; it stuck upon him as the sun “In the grey vault of heaven.” Malone.

Note return to page 1005 6Nor that full star that ushers in the even Doth half that glory to the sober west,] Milton had perhaps these lines in his thoughts, when he wrote the description of the evening in his fourth book of Paradise Lost: “Now came still evening on, and twilight grey “Had in her sober livery all things clad—” Malone.

Note return to page 1006 7As those two mourning eyes become thy face:] Thus the old copy. But the context, I think, clearly shows, that the poet wrote—mourning. So before: “Thine eyes— “Have put on black, and living mourners be.” The two words were, I imagine, in his time pronounced alike. In a Sonnet of our author's, printed by W. Jaggard, 1599, we meet: “In black morne I &lblank;” The same Sonnet is printed in England's Helicon, 1600, and there the line stands: “In black mourn I &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 1007 *The statute of thy beauty &lblank;] Statute has here its legal signification, that of a security or obligation for money. Malone.

Note return to page 1008 8Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.] The modern editors, by following the old copy, in which the vowel I is here used instead of ay, have rendered this line unintelligible. Malone.

Note return to page 1009 9Among a number one is reckon'd none. Then in the number let me pass untold, &c.] The same conceit is found in Romeo and Juliet: “Search among view of many: mine, being one, “May stand in number, though in reckoning none.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1010 1Be anchor'd in the bay &lblank;] So, in Measure for Measure: “Whilst my intention, hearing not my tongue, “Anchors on Isabel.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1011 2&lblank; hooks, Whereto the judgment of my heart is ty'd?] So, in Hamlet: “Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: “My heart was to thy rudder ty'd with strings.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1012 3Why should my heart think that a several plot,] The reader will find a full account of a several or several plot, in a note on Love's Labour's Lost, Vol. II. p. 407. edit 1778. Malone.

Note return to page 1013 4To put fair truth upon so foul a face?] So, in Macbeth: “False face must hide what the false heart doth know.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1014 5When my love swears &c.] This Sonnet is also found (with some variations) in The Passionate Pilgrim, a collection of verses printed as Shakspeare's in 1599. It there stands thus: “When my love swears that she is made of truth, “I do believe her, though I know she lies; “That she might think me some untutor'd youth, “Unskilfull in the world's false forgeries. “Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, “Although I know my years be past the best, “I smiling credit her false speaking tongue, “Out-facing faults in love with love's ill rest. “But wherefore says my love that she is young? “And wherefore say not I that I am old? “O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue, “And age in love loves not to have years told. “Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with me, “Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.” Malone.

Note return to page 1015 6Wound me not with thine eye, &lblank;] Thus, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; he's already dead; stabb'd with a white wench's black eye.” Malone. Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue;] So, in K. Henry VI. P. III: “Ah, kill me with thy weapons, not thy words.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1016 *&lblank; to tell me so,] To tell me, thou dost love me. Malone.

Note return to page 1017 7Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.] That is, (as it is expressed in a former Sonnet) “Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place.” Malone.

Note return to page 1018 8But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade &lblank;] That is, but neither my wits nor senses can &c. So, in Measure for Measure: “More nor less to others paying &lblank;” “The wits, Dr. Johnson observes, seem to have been reckoned five, by analogy to the five senses, or the five inlets of ideas. Wit in our author's time was the general term for the intellectual power.” Malone.

Note return to page 1019 9And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine;] So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, “What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?” Again, in Measure for Measure: “Take, O take those lips away, “That so sweetly were forsworn,— “But my kisses bring in again, “Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.” Malone.

Note return to page 1020 1Robb'd others' beds revenues of their rents.] So, in Othello: “And pour our treasures into foreign laps.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1021 2Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;] Not regarding, not making any account of her child's uneasiness. Malone.

Note return to page 1022 3&lblank; that thou may'st have thy Will, If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.] The image with which this Sonnet begins, is at once pleasing and natural; but the conclusion of it is lame and impotent indeed. We attend to the cries of the infant, but laugh at the loud blubberings of the great boy Will. Steevens.

Note return to page 1023 4Two loves I have &c.] This Sonnet was printed in The Passionate Pilgrim, 1599, with some slight variations. Malone.

Note return to page 1024 *&lblank; do suggest me still;] See p. 474. note 3. Malone.

Note return to page 1025 5Tempteth my better angel from my side,] The quarto has— from my sight. The true reading is found in The Passionate Pilgrim. Malone. Tempteth my better angel from my side,] So, in Othello: “Yea, curse his better angel from his side.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1026 6&lblank; with her foul pride.] The copy in The Passionate Pilgrim has—with her fair pride. Malone.

Note return to page 1027 7But being both from me, &lblank;] The Passionate Pilgrim reads— to me. Malone.

Note return to page 1028 8Yet this shall I ne'er know, &lblank;] The Passionate Pilgrim reads: The truth I shall not know &lblank; Malone.

Note return to page 1029 9Till my bad angel fire my good one out.] So, in K. Lear: “&lblank; and fire us hence, like foxes.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1030 †Those lips that Love's own hand did make,]   &lblank; oscula, quæ Venus Quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit. Hor. Malone.

Note return to page 1031 1That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night, &lblank;] So, in Hamlet: “And it must follow, as the night the day, “Thou canst not then be false to any man.” Malone.

Note return to page 1032 *&lblank; night, who like a fiend] So, in K. Henry V: “&lblank; night, “Who like a foul and ugly witch &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1033 2I hate from hate away she threw, And sav'd my life, saying &lblank; not you.] Such sense as these Sonnets abound with, may perhaps be discovered as the words at present stand; but I had rather read: I hate—away from hate she flew, &c. Having pronounced the words I hate, she left me with a declaration in my favour. Steevens. I hate from hate away she threw, And sav'd my life, saying—not you.] The meaning is—she removed the words I hate to a distance from hatred; she changed their natural import, and rendered them inefficacious, and undescriptive of dislike, by subjoining not you. The old copy is, I think, right. The poet relates what the lady said; she is not herself the speaker. Malone.

Note return to page 1034 3Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth,] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “Than thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine.” We meet a similar allusion in The Merchant of Venice: “Such harmony is in immortal souls. “But while this muddy vesture of decay “Doth close it in, we cannot hear it.” Malone.

Note return to page 1035 4Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array,] The old copy reads: Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth, My sinful earth these rebel pow'rs that thee array. It is manifest that the compositor inadvertently repeated the three last words of the first verse in the beginning of the second, omitting two syllables, which are sufficient to complete the metre. What the omitted word or words were, it is impossible now to determine. Rather than leave an hiatus, I have hazarded a conjecture, and filled up the line. Malone. I would read: Starv'd by the rebel powers &c. The dearth complained of in the succeeding line, appears to authorize the conjecture. The poet seems to allude to the short commons and gaudy habit of soldiers. Steevens.

Note return to page 1036 5&lblank; to aggravate thy store;] The error that has been so often already noticed, has happened here; the original copy, and all the subsequent impressions, reading my instead of thy. Malone.

Note return to page 1037 6My reason, the physician to my love,] So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use reason for his precisian [r. physician] he admits him not for his counsellor.” Malone.

Note return to page 1038 7Past cure I am, now reason is past care,] So, in Love's Labour's Lost (first folio): “Great reason; for past care is still past cure.” It seems to have been a proverbial saying. The passage now before us shows that Mr. Theobald's transposition (for past cure is still past care) which has been adopted in the modern editions, is unnecessary. Malone.

Note return to page 1039 8&lblank; as black as hell, as dark as night.] So, in Love's Labour's Lost:   “&lblank; Black is the badge of hell, “The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1040 9That censures falsely &lblank;] That estimates falsely. So, in Sir Walter Raleigh's Commendatory Verses prefixed to Gascoigne's Steel Glasse, 1575: “Wherefore, to give my censure of this book &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 1041 1When I, against myself, with thee partake?] i. e. take part with thee against myself. Steevens.

Note return to page 1042 2&lblank; all tyrant, for thy sake?] That is, for the sake of thee, thou tyrant. Perhaps however the author wrote: &lblank; when I forgot Am of myself, all truant for thy sake? So, in the 101st Sonnet: “O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends “For thy neglect of truth &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 1043 3Who hateth thee that I do call my friend?] This is from one of the Psalms: “Do I not hate those that hate thee? &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1044 4Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?] So, in Coriolanus: “He wag'd me with his countenance.” Steevens. Again, more appositely, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Her gentlewomen like the Nereides, “So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, “And made their bends adornings?” Malone.

Note return to page 1045 5And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “I am content, if thou wilt have it so: “I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1046 6Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “Fie, wrangling queen! “Whom every thing becomes; to chide, to laugh, “To weep.” Malone.

Note return to page 1047 7&lblank; swear against the thing they see;] So, in Timon: “Swear against objects.” Steevens

Note return to page 1048 8&lblank; more perjur'd I To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie!] The quarto is here, I think, corrupt. It reads—more perjur'd eye &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1049 9Cupid lay'd by his brand and fell asleep;] This and the following Sonnet, are composed of the very same thoughts differently versified. They seem to have been early essays of the poet, who perhaps had not determined which he should prefer. He hardly could have intended to send them both into the world. Malone. That the poet intended them alike for publication, may be inferred from the following lines in the 105th Sonnet: “Since all alike my songs and praises be, “To one, of one, still such and ever so—” Again: “Therefore my verse &lblank; “One thing expressing, leaves out difference.” Again: “Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument, “Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1050 1&lblank; the help of bath desired, And thither hied, &lblank;] Query, whether we should read Bath (i. e the city of that name). The following words seem to authorize it. Steevens. See the subsequent Sonnet, which contains the same thoughts differently versified: “Growing a bath &c. “&lblank; but I my mistress' thrall “Came there for cure.” So, before, in the present Sonnet: “And grew a seething bath &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 1051 1The Passionate Pilgrim was first published by W. Jaggard in duodecimo, 1599, with our author's name. Two of the Sonnets inserted in that collection are also found (as has been already observed) in the larger collection, printed in 1609; which having been already laid before the reader, [see before, Sonnet 138 and 144,] are omitted. Most of these little pieces bear the strongest marks of the hand of Shakspeare. However, as the editor inserted among them a poem of Marlowe's, (which is now rejected,) perhaps one or two other pieces may have likewise crept in, that were not the production of our author. Malone. Why the present collection of Sonnets &c. should be entitled The Passionate Pilgrim, I cannot discover, as it is made up out of the loose fragments of Shakspeare, together with pieces of other writers. Perhaps it was so called by its first editor William Jaggard the bookseller. We may be almost sure that our author never designed the majority of these his unconnected scraps for the publick. On the Stationers' books the two following entries occur: “Jan. 3. 1599, Amours by J. D. with certen Sonets by W. S.” This entry is made by Eleazar Edgar. Nov. 4. 1639, John Benson “Entred for his copie under the handes of D. Wykes and M. Fetherston wardens, an addicion of some excellent Poems to Shakspeare's Poems, by other gentlemen. viz. His Mistress Drawne, and her Mind, by Ben Jonson. An Epistle to Ben Jonson, by Francis Beaumont. His Mistris Shade, by R. Herrick &c.” These collections I have never seen. Steevens. The latter entry relates to the edition of Shakspeare's Poems in duodecimo, published in 1640, by Thomas Cotes, for John Benson. At the end are annexed the Poems of B. Jonson &c. above mentioned. Malone.

Note return to page 1052 2&lblank; cannot hold argument,] This is the reading in Love's Labour's Lost, where this Sonnet is inserted. The Passionate Pilgrim has: &lblank; could not hold argument. Malone.

Note return to page 1053 3&lblank; which on my earth dost shine,] So Love's Labour's Lost. The Passionate Pilgrim reads: &lblank; that on this earth doth shine, Exhale this vapour &c. Malone. Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhal'st this vapour &lblank;] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “It is some meteor that the sun exhales.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1054 4To break an oath, to win a paradise?] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “It is religion, to be thus forsworn.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1055 5Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook,] Several of these Sonnets seem to have been essays of the author when he first conceived the idea of writing a poem on the subject of Venus and Adonis, and before the scheme of his poem was adjusted. Malone.

Note return to page 1056 6Touches so soft still conquer chastity.] Thus, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; a touch more rare “Subdues all pangs all fears.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1057 7&lblank; makes his book thine eyes,] So, in Love's Labour's Lost: “From women's eyes this doctrine I derive &c.” Again, ibid: “&lblank; women's eyes &lblank; “They are the books, the arts, the academes &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 1058 8&lblank; thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which (not to anger bent) is musick and sweet fire.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; his voice was property'd “As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends. “But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, “He was as rattling thunder.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1059 9Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, &c.] Of this Sonnet the following translation was made by the late Mr. Vincent Bourne: Vix matutinum ebiberat de gramine rorem,   Umbrosa invitans Phœbus ad antra boves, Cum secum placidi Cytherea ad fluminis undas,   Adventum expectans sedit, Adoni, tuum. Sub salicis sedit ramis, ubi sæpe solebat   Procumbens fastum deposuisse puer. Æstus erat gravis; at gravior sub pectore divæ   Qui fuit, et longe sævior, æstus erat. Mox puer advenit, posuitque a corpore vestem,   Tam prope vix Venerem delituisse ratus: Utque deam vidit recubantem in margine ripæ,   Attonitus mediis insiliebat aquis. Crudelem decepta dolum fraudemque superbum   Ut videt, his mæstis ingemit illa modis: Cur ex æquoreæ spumâ cum nascerer undæ,   Non ipsa, o inquit Jupiter! unda fui! Malone.

Note return to page 1060 1Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle,] Quam digna inscribi vitro, cum lubrica, lævis,   Pellucens, fragilis, vitrea tota nites! Written under a lady's name on an inn window. Steevens.

Note return to page 1061 2She burnt out love, as soon as straw out burneth;] So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: “&lblank; rash bavin wits, “Soon kindled and soon burnt.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1062 3Dowland to thee is dear, &lblank;] Dowland was a celebrated Lutanist. The king of Denmark was so much pleased with him, that he requested king James to permit him to leave England. He accordingly went to Denmark, and died there. Malone. On the books of the Stationers' Company, on the 31st of October 1597, is entered “a booke called The first booke of Songs or Aires, made of Foure Parts, with Tribletures for the Lute, by John Dowland, Batcheler of Musicke.” Again, July 16. 1600, “A booke called The Second Book of Songes or Ayres, of twoo, foure, and five Partes, with Tribletures for the Lute or Orpherion, with the Viol-de-gambo. Composed by John Dowland, Bachelor of Musick, and Lutanist unto the most famous Christian the 4th, by the grace of God, king of Denmark, Norway, &c.” Again, in April 1604: “A book called Seven Teares of John Dowland, feigned in Seven Passionate Pavans &c. and set forth for the Lute &c. in five parts.” There are other entries of the works of Dowland in subsequent years, viz. 1608, &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1063 4Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such,] This seems to allude to the Faery Queen. If so, these Sonnets were not written till after 1590, when the first three books of that poem were published. Malone.

Note return to page 1064 5Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,] The line preceding this is lost. Malone.

Note return to page 1065 6See in my thigh, quoth she, here was the sore &c.] Rabelais hath sported with the same thought in a chapter where he relateth the story of the Old Woman and the Lion. La Fontaine also indulgeth himself in Le Diable Papefiguiere, after a manner no whit more chastised: “Bref aussi tôt qu'il apperçut l'enorme “Solution de continuité, “Il demeura si fort épouvanté, “Qu'il prit la fuite et laissa-la Perrette.” The varlet Shakspeare, however, on this occasion might have remembered the ancient ballad of the Gelding of the Devil, which beginneth thus: “A pretty jest I will you tell &c.” And now I bethink me, somewhat like the same fancy occurreth in the Speculum Majus of Vincentius Bellovacensis, otherwise Vincent de Beauvais. Amner.

Note return to page 1066 7Sweet rose &c.] This seems to have been intended for a dirge to be sung by Venus on the death of Adonis. Malone.

Note return to page 1067 8&lblank; vaded in the spring.] The verb fade throughout these little fragments &c. is always thus spelt, either in compliance with ancient pronunciation, or in consequence of a primitive which perhaps modern lexicographers may feel some reluctance to acknowledge. They tell us that we owe this word to the French fade; but I see no reason why we may not as well impute its origin to the Latin vado, which equally serves to indicate departure, motion, and evanescence. Steevens.

Note return to page 1068 9Fair Venus with Adonis sitting by her,] The old copy reads: Venus with Adonis sitting by her. The defect of the metre shows that a word was omitted at the press. This remark I owe to Dr. Farmer. Malone.

Note return to page 1069 1She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,] See Venus and Adonis, ante, p. 409: “I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, “Even by the stern and direful god of war, &c.” Malone. &lblank; how god Mars did try her,] So, Prior: “By Mars himself that armour has been try'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1070 2Crabbed age and youth &c.] This little poem is likewise found in the Garland of Good-will, Part III. Dr. Percy thinks that it was “intended for the mouth of Venus, weighing the comparative merits of youthful Adonis and aged Vulcan.” See the Reliques of Anc. Poet. vol. I. p. 337. 2d edit. Malone. As we know not that Vulcan was much more aged than his brethren, Mars, Mercury, or Phœbus, and especially as the fabled deities were supposed to enjoy a perpetuity of health, life, and pleasure, I am unwilling to admit that the laughter-loving dame disliked her husband on any other account than his ungraceful form and his lameness. He who could forge the thunderbolts of Jove, was surely in full strength, and equal to the task of discharging the highest claims and most terrifying exactions even of Venus herself. I do not, in short, perceive how this little poem could have been put, with any singular propriety, into the mouth of the queen of Love, if due regard were paid to the classical situation of her and her husband. Steevens.

Note return to page 1071 *Age, I do defy thee;] I despise or reject thee. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “I do defy thy conjuration.” Malone.

Note return to page 1072 3As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh;] A copy of this poem said to be printed from an ancient Ms. and published in the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. XXIX. p. 39. reads: As faded gloss no rubbing will excite; and in the corresponding line: As broken glass no cement can unite. Malone. Read the first of these lines how we will, it is founded on a false position. Every one knows that the gloss or polish on all works of art may be restored, and that rubbing is the means of restoring it. Steevens. Shakspeare, I believe, alludes to faded silk, of which the colour, when once changed, cannot be restored but by a second dying. Malone.

Note return to page 1073 4And daft me &c.] So, in Much Ado about Nothing: “&lblank; canst thou so daffe me?” To daff, or doff, is to put off. Steevens.

Note return to page 1074 5To descant on the doubts &c.] Descant is musical paraphrase. See note on K. Richard III. last edit. Vol. VII. p. 6. Steevens.

Note return to page 1075 6'T may be &lblank; 'T may be, &lblank;] I will never believe any poet could begin two lines together, with such offensive elisions. They may both be omitted without injury to sense or metre. Steevens.

Note return to page 1076 7My heart doth charge the watch; &lblank;] The meaning of this phrase is not very clear. Steevens. Perhaps the poet, wishing for the approach of morning, enjoins the watch to hasten through their nocturnal duty. Malone.

Note return to page 1077 8While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, And wish her lays were tuned like the lark.] In Romeo and Juliet, the lark and nightingale are in like manner opposed to each other. Malone.

Note return to page 1078 9For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty,] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “It was the lark, the herald of the morn.” Malone.

Note return to page 1079 1To spite me now, each minute seems an hour;] So, in one of our author's plays: “In lovers' minutes there are many hours.” From the want of rhime, I suspect there is here some corruption. The compositor probably caught the word hour from the preceding line. Malone. I would read—each minute seems a moon; i. e. a month. Thus is the rhime restored without diminution of the sense. Steevens. Were I with her, the night would post too soon; But now are minutes added to the hours; To spite me now, each minute seems an hour;] Thus, in Dr. Young's Revenge: “While in the lustre of her charms I lay, “Whole summer suns roll'd unperceiv'd away— “Now fate does rigidly her dues regain, “And every moment is an age of pain.” Dr. Young, however, was no needy borrower, and therefore the coincidence between these passages may be regarded as the effect of accident. There are, however, certain hyperbolical expressions which the inamoratoes of all ages have claimed as right of commonage. Steevens.

Note return to page 1080 2It was a lording's daughter &c.] This and the five following Sonnets are said in the old copy to have been set to musick. Mr. Oldys, in one of his Mss. says they were set by John and Thomas Morley. Malone. There is a wretched ditty, beginning: “It was a lady's daughter   “Of Paris properly &c.” Another: “It was a blind beggar   “That long had lost his sight &lblank;” Another: “It was an old man and his poor wife   “In great distress did fall &lblank;” and twenty more It was's, that might as reputably be imputed to Shakspeare, who excels in ballads, as this despicable composition. Steevens. I am afraid our author is himself answerable for one of these It was's. See As you like it, Vol. III. p. 375. edit. 1778: “It was a lover and his lass &c.” Malone.

Note return to page 1081 3On a day (alack the day!) &c.] This Sonnet is likewise found in a collection of verses entitled England's Helicon, printed in 1600. It is there called The Passionate Sheepheard's Song, and our author's name is affixed to it. It occurs also in Love's Labour's Lost, act IV. sc. iii. Malone.

Note return to page 1082 4&lblank; whose month was ever May,] In Love's Labour's Lost, it is—“is ever May.” Malone.

Note return to page 1083 *&lblank; the wind All unseen, &lblank;] This passage will serve to support the old reading in a song in As you like it: “Thy tooth is not so keen, “Because thou art not seen.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1084 5That the lover &lblank;] England's Helicon reads: That the shepherd &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1085 6&lblank; my hand hath sworn] In Love's Labour's Lost, this line is printed with a slight variation: But alas my hand is sworn. Malone.

Note return to page 1086 7Do not call it &c.] These two lines are supplied from the play. They are wanting in England's Helicon, and in the Passionate Pilgrim. Malone.

Note return to page 1087 8&lblank; even Jove would swear] The word even has been supplied by some modern editor. Malone.

Note return to page 1088 9&lblank; for thy love.] England's Helicon reads: Turning mortal for my love. Malone.

Note return to page 1089 1My flocks feed not, &c.] This Sonnet is also found in England's Helicon, 1600. It is there entitled The Unknown Sheepherd's Complaint; and subscribed Ignoto. It is likewise printed in a Collection of Madrigals, by Thomas Weelkes, quarto, 1597. Malone.

Note return to page 1090 2Love's denying &c.] A denial of love, a breach of faith &c. being the cause of all these misfortunes. The Passionate Pilgrim has—Love is dying, and—Heart's denying. The reading of the text is found in England's Helicon, except that it has Love is, and Faith is. Renying is from the French, renier, to forswear. Malone.

Note return to page 1091 3Causer of this.] Read—'Cause of this; i. e. Because of this. Steevens.

Note return to page 1092 4All my merry jigs are quite forgot,] A jig was a metrical composition. So, in the Prologue to Fletcher's Love's Pilgrimage: “A jig shall be clap'd at, and every rhime “Prais'd and applauded &c.” Again, in Bussy d'Ambois, a tragedy by Chapman, 1607: “'Tis one of the best jigs that ever was acted.” Malone.

Note return to page 1093 5In black mourn I,] Jaggard's copy has—morne. The reading of the text was supplied by England's Helicon. Malone.

Note return to page 1094 6Love hath forlorn me,] As the metre as well as rhime in this passage is defective, I suspect some corruption, and would read: Love forlorn I, i. e. I love forlorn, i. e. deserted, forsaken &c. Steevens. The metre is the same as in the corresponding line: O cruel speeding. To the exactness of rhime the author appears to have paid little attention. We have just had dame and remain. Malone.

Note return to page 1095 7My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,] i. e. in no degree, more or less. Thus Fairfax: “This charge, some deal thee haply honour may.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1096 8With sighs so deep, Procures to weep &c.] There is, I believe, here some gross corruption. If any example could be produced of such an abbreviation being anciently used, we might read: With sighs so deep, Poor curs do weep, &c. Perhaps, however, only the first word of the former line is corrupt, and my should be substituted instead of with. The passage deserves but little consideration. Malone. The verb procure is used with great laxity by Shakspeare in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; it is my lady mother: “What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?” In short, the dog procures (i. e. manages matters) so as to weep. Steevens.

Note return to page 1097 *How sighs resound] I believe we should read—His sighs &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1098 9&lblank; through heartless ground,] Heartless ground is exhausted mould. To plough soil out of heart, is still a common phrase. In the present instance it means fields left in a state of sterility, because they were unable to bear a crop. Steevens. Heartless ground means here, I think, desolated ground; corresponding in its appearance to the unhappy state of its owner. Malone.

Note return to page 1099 1Nymphs back &lblank;] This is the reading of England's Helicon. The Passionate Pilgrim has: Nymphs black peeping fearfully. Malone.

Note return to page 1100 2Farewel, sweet love, Thy like ne'er was,] In the corresponding part of the preceding Sonnet,9Q1297 the structure of which is exactly the same as that of this, the lines rhime. Perhaps we ought to read: Farewel, sweet lass. Malone. &lblank; thy like ne'er was,] There is no rhime to correspond with was, unless we transpose the next line, and read: &lblank; of all my moan the cause. Steevens.

Note return to page 1101 3For sweet content, the cause of all my moan.] This reading was furnished by the copy printed in England's Helicon. The rhime shows it to be the true one. The Passionate Pilgrim has: &lblank; the cause of all my woe. Perhaps we ought to read—thou cause &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1102 4And stall'd the deer that thou should'st strike,] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; when thou hast ta'en thy stand, “The elected deer before thee.” Malone.

Note return to page 1103 5As well as fancy, partial might:] Fancy here means love. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “A martial man to be soft fancy's slave!” The reading of the old copy—partial might, appears to me to afford no meaning. A letter was, I suppose, inverted at the press, and might printed instead of wight. This is, I think, the only error. In the next stanza the rhime is, as here, imperfect; and yet the sense shows there that the text is not corrupt. Our ancient poets sometimes contented themselves with very imperfect rhimes. Malone. Partial might is partial power; and who, in poetical language, would scruple to call Fancy a powerful but a partial being? Were it necessary to send out conjecture in quest of a better rhime, we might read—partial tike, a term of contempt employed by Shakspeare and our old writers. Steevens.

Note return to page 1104 6&lblank; with filed talk,] With studied or polished language. So, in B. Jonson's Verses on our author: “In his well-torned and true-filed lines.” Malone.

Note return to page 1105 7&lblank; to sale.] The rhime requires that we should read—to sell, and the sense is no way injured by the change. Steevens.

Note return to page 1106 8And twice desire ere it be day,] The old copy reads: —yet it be day. Yet was manifestly a misprint for yer, which is found in the second line of this stanza. Yer for ere. So, in Corin's Dream of his Fair Cloris, inserted in England's Helicon, 1600: “But I could neither my faire Chloris view, “Nor yet the satire which yer-while I slew.” Malone. We should certainly read either ere, or at least y'ere, i. e. you ere. We may servilely follow ancient false spelling, till what we publish is unintelligible. Steevens.

Note return to page 1107 9And ban and brawl, &lblank;] To ban is to curse. So, in K. Richard III: “You bade me ban, and will you have me leave?” Malone.

Note return to page 1108 1To sin, and never for to saint:] So, Pope: “&lblank; to sinner it or saint it.” Malone.

Note return to page 1109 2&lblank; by holy then,] Perhaps a phrase equivalent to another still in use—By all that's sacred. It may however be a corruption. Steevens.

Note return to page 1110 3As it fell &c.] Part of this elegant Sonnet is likewise printed in England's Helicon, and is there said to have been written by the same author as the preceding one, beginning,—My flocks feed not. It is subscribed Ignoto. Malone. Ignoto is the occasional signature of Spenser. Steevens. The editor of England's Helicon printed most of the poems in his collection from Mss. which at that time were probably handed about, and in the posession of many persons, even after they had appeared in print. In consequence of this, he has to some of those pieces subscribed only initial letters, to others no name at all, though the very same poems had before been published with their authors' names. He appears to have used the signature Ignoto in the same sense as we now employ the word Anonymous. Malone.

Note return to page 1111 4Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,] England's Helicon reads: “Lean'd her breast against a thorn.” Malone.

Note return to page 1112 5Ruthless beasts, &lblank;] This is the reading in England's Helicon. So, before: “Beasts did leap.” The Passionate Pilgrim has: Ruthless bears they will not cheer thee. Malone. Beasts is the reading I should prefer, because the poet was an Englishman, and wrote in his own country, where bears are exhibited only as rarities, though enough of other animals are within the observation of rustick lovers. Steevens.

Note return to page 1113 6King Pandion, &lblank;] The father of Philomela, who, according to the fable, was turned into a nightingale. Malone.

Note return to page 1114 7Even so poor bird &c.] These two lines were supplied from England's Helicon. The following verses are wanting in that collection. Malone.

Note return to page 1115 8Every man will be thy friend, Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend; But if store of crowns be scant, No man will supply thy want.] So, in Hamlet: “And hitherto doth love on fortune tend: “For who not needs shall never lack a friend; “And who in want a hollow friend doth try, “Directly seasons him his enemy.” Malone. Donec eris felix, multos numerabis amicos;   Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes. Steevens.

Note return to page 1116 9If he be addict to vice, &c.] This and the three following lines are wanting in a copy of this poem, in the Pepysian Collection, Magdalen College, Cambridge. Malone.

Note return to page 1117 1&lblank; from flattering foe.] The foregoing eighteen Sonnets are all that are found in the Collection printed by W. Jaggard in 1599, under the title of The Passionate Pilgrim, excepting two, which have been already inserted in their proper places (p. 621. and 646.), and a Madrigal, beginning with the words, Come live with me &c. which has been omitted, as being the production, not of Shakspeare, but Marlowe. In the room of these, two small pieces have been added, the authenticity of which seems unquestionable. Malone.

Note return to page 1118 2Take, oh, take those lips away,] This little poem is not printed in The Passionate Pilgrim, probably because it was not written so early as 1599. The first stanza of it is introduced in Measure for Measure. In Fletcher's Bloody Brother it is found entire. Whether the second stanza was also written by Shakspeare, cannot now be ascertained. All the songs, however, introduced in our author's plays, appear to have been his own composition; and the present contains an expression of which he seems to have been peculiarly fond. See the next note. Malone.

Note return to page 1119 3Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.] So, in our author's 142d Sonnet: “&lblank; not from those lips of thine, “That have prophan'd their scarlet ornaments, “And seal'd false bonds of love, as oft as mine.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis: “Pure lips, sweet seals, in my soft lips imprinted, “What bargains may I make still to be sealing?” Malone.

Note return to page 1120 4On whose tops the pinks that grow,] The following thought in one of Prior's poems is akin to this: “An ugly hard rose-bud has fallen in my neck.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1121 5Let the bird of loudest lay,] In 1601 a book was published, entitled Love's Martyr, or Rosalin's Complaint, Allegorically shadowing the Truth of Love, in the constant Fate of the Phœnix and Turtle. A Poem enterlaced with much Varietie and Raritie; now first translated out of the venerable Italian Torquato Cœliano, by Robert Chester. With the true Legend of famous King Arthur, the last of the nine Worthies; being the first Essay of a new British Poet: collected out of diverse authentical Records. To these are added some new Compositions of several modern Writers, whose Names are subscribed to their severall Workes; upon the first Subject, viz. the Phœnix and Turtle. Among these new compositions is the following poem, subscribed with our author's name. The second title prefixed to these verses, is yet more full. “Hereafter follow diverse Poetical Essaies on the former Subject, viz. the Turtle and Phœnix. Done by the best and chiefest of our modern Writers, with their Names subscribed to their particular Workes. Never before extant. And now first consecrated by them all generally to the Love and Merit of the true-noble Knight, Sir John Salisburie.” The principal writers associated with Shakspeare in this collection are B. Jonson, Marston, and Chapman. The above very particular account of these verses leaves us, I think, no room to doubt of the genuineness of this little poem. Malone.

Note return to page 1122 6On the sole Arabian tree,] A learned friend would read: Sole on the Arabian tree. As there are many Arabian trees, though fabulous narrations have celebrated but one Arabian bird, I was so thoroughly convinced of the propriety of this change, that I had once regulated the text accordingly. But in emendation, as in determining on the life of man, nulla unquam cunctatio longa est; for the following passage in The Tempest fully supports the old copy: “Now I will believe “That there are unicorns; that in Arabia “There is one tree, the phœnix' throne; one phœnix “At this hour reigning there.” Malone.

Note return to page 1123 7Herald sad and trumpet be,] So, in K. John: “&lblank; Be thou the trumpet of our wrath, “And sullen presage of your own decay.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1124 8But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul pre-currer of the fiend, Augur of the fever's end,] The scritch-owl; the foul precurrer of death. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Now the wasted brands do glow, “While the scritch-owl, scritching loud, “Puts the wretch that lies in woe, “In remembrance of a shrowd.” Again, in Hamlet: “And even the like precurse of fierce events, “As harbingers preceding still the fates, “And prologue to the omen coming on &lblank; “Have heaven and earth together demonstrated “Unto our climatures and countrymen.” Malone.

Note return to page 1125 9To this troop come thou not near.] Part of this poem resembles the song in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Ye spotted snakes with double tongue,   “Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen; “Newts, and blind-worms, do no harm;   “Come not near our fairy queen &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1126 1&lblank; the eagle, feather'd king;] So, in Mr. Gray's Ode on the Progress of Poetry: “&lblank; thy magick lulls the feather'd king “With ruffled plumes and flagging wing.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1127 2That defunctive musick can,] That understands funereal musick. To con in Saxon signifies to know. The modern editions read: That defunctive musick ken. Malone.

Note return to page 1128 3And thou, treble-dated crow,] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “To pluck the quills from ancient ravens' wings.” Malone. &lblank; cornicum ut secla vetusta. Ter tres ætates humanas garrula vincit Cornix &lblank; Lucret. Steevens.

Note return to page 1129 4That thy sable gender mak'st With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,] I suppose this uncouth expression means, that the crow, or raven, continues its race by the breath it gives to them as its parent, and by that which it takes from other animals: i. e. by first producing its young from itself, and then providing for their support by depredation. Thus, in K. John: “&lblank; and vast confusion waits “(As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast) “The imminent decay of wrested pomp.” This is the best I can make of the passage. Steevens.

Note return to page 1130 5But in them it were a wonder.] So extraordinary a phænomenon as hearts remote, yet not asunder &c. would have excited astonishment had it been found any where else except in these two birds. In them it was not wonderful. Malone.

Note return to page 1131 6That the turtle saw his right Flaming in the phœnix' sight;] I suppose we should read light; i. e. the turtle saw all the day he wanted, in the eyes of the phœnix. So, Antony speaking to Cleopatra: “&lblank; O thou day o' the world, “Chain my arm'd neck!” Again, in The Merchant of Venice: Bass. “We should hold day with the Antipodes, “If you would walk in absence of the sun. Por. “Let me give light, but let me not be light.” Steevens. I do not perceive any need of change. The turtle saw those qualities which were his right, which were peculiarly appropriated to him, in the phœnix.—Light certainly corresponds better with the word flaming in the next line; but Shakspeare seldom puts his comparisons on four feet. Malone.

Note return to page 1132 7Property was thus appall'd, That the self was not the same;] This communication of appropriated qualities alarmed the power that presides over property. Finding that the self was not the same, he began to fear that nothing would remain distinct and individual; that all things would become common. Malone.

Note return to page 1133 8Love hath reason, reason none, If what parts can so remain.] Love is reasonable, and reason is folly, [has no reason] if two that are disunited from each other, can yet remain together and undivided. Malone.

Note return to page 1134 9Whereupon it made this threne] This funeral song. A book entitled David's Threanes, by J. Heywood, was published in 1620. Two years afterwards it was reprinted under the title of David's Tears: the former title probably was discarded as obsolete. For this information I am indebted to Dr. Farmer. Malone.

Note return to page 1135 1This poem was first printed in 1609, with our author's name, at the end of the quarto edition of his Sonnets. Malone.

Note return to page 1136 2&lblank; whose concave womb re-worded] Repeated; re-echoed. The same verb is found in Hamlet: “Bring me to the test, “And I the matter will re-word.” Malone.

Note return to page 1137 3&lblank; from a sistering vale,] This word is again employed by Shakspeare in Pericles, 1609: “That even her art sisters the natural roses.” It is not, I believe, used by any other author. Malone.

Note return to page 1138 4My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,] The poet meant, I think, that the word spirits should be pronounced as if written sprights. Malone.

Note return to page 1139 5Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.] So, in Julius Cæsar: “&lblank; and the state of man, “Like to a little kingdom, suffers then “The nature of an insurrection.” Again, in Hamlet: “&lblank; Remember thee? “Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat “In this distracted globe.” Sorrow's wind and rain are sighs and tears. Thus, in Antony and Cleopatra: “We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears.” The modern editions read corruptedly: Storming her words with sorrows, wind &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1140 6&lblank; spent and done.] Done, it has been already observed, was anciently used in the sense of consumed. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “And if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done.” Malone.

Note return to page 1141 7Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.] Thus, in the 3d Sonnet: “So thou through windows of thine age shall see, “Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.” Again, in Macbeth: &lblank; my way of life “Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf.” This line seems to confirm a conjecture of Dr. Johnson's in Timon of Athens: “&lblank; for those milk-paps “That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, “Are not within the leaf of pity writ &lblank;” The old copy reads window-barn. Malone. Shakspeare has applied this image to a comick purpose in K. Henry IV. P. II: “He call'd me even now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window: at last I spied his eyes; and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat, and peep'd through.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1142 8Oft did she heave her napkin &lblank;] Her handkerchief. So, in Othello: “Your napkin is too little” Malone.

Note return to page 1143 9Which on it had conceited characters,] Fanciful images. Thus, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Which the conceited painter drew so proud &lblank;” Malone.

Note return to page 1144 1Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,] So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “Seasoning the earth with showers of silver brine.” Laundering is wetting. The verb is now obsolete. To pellet is to form into pellets, to which, being round, Shakspeare, with his usual licence, compares falling tears. The word, I believe, is found no where but here and in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; My brave Egyptians all, “By the discandying of this pelleted storm, “Lie graveless.” Malone. Season'd woe had pelleted in tears,] This phrase is from the kitchen. Pellet was the ancient culinary term for a forced meat ball, a well-known seasoning. Steevens.

Note return to page 1145 2Sometimes her level'd eyes their carriage ride,] The allusion, which is to a piece of ordnance, is very quaint and far-fetched. Malone. In The Merchant of Venice, the eyes of Portia's picture are represented as mounted on those of Bassanio: “&lblank; Move these eyes? “Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, “Seem they in motion?” Steevens.

Note return to page 1146 *Sometime diverted &lblank;] Turned from their former direction. So, in As you like it: “I rather will subject me to the malice “Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.” Malone.

Note return to page 1147 3To the orbed earth; &lblank;] So, in the mock tragedy in Hamlet: “&lblank; and Tellus' orbed ground.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1148 4For some, untuck'd, descended her sheav'd hat,] Her straw hat. Malone.

Note return to page 1149 5&lblank; from a maund she drew] A maund is a hand-basket. Malone.

Note return to page 1150 6Of amber, crystal, and of bedded jet,] Thus the quarto, 1609. If bedded be right, it must mean set in some kind of metal. Our author uses the word in The Tempest: “&lblank; my son i' the ooze is bedded.” The modern editions read—beaded jet, which may be right; beads made of jet The construction, I think, is,—she drew from a maund a thousand favours, of amber, crystal, &c. Malone. Baskets made of beads were sufficiently common even since the time of our author. I have seen many of them. Beaded jet, is jet formed into beads. Steevens.

Note return to page 1151 7Upon whose weeping margent she was set, &lblank; Like usury, applying wet to wet,] In K. Henry VI. P. III. we meet a similar thought: “With tearful eyes add water to the sea, “And give more strength to that which hath too much.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew, “Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.” Again, in As you like it: “Thou mak'st a testament “As worldlings do, giving the sum of more “To that which hath too much.” Perhaps we should read: Upon whose margent weeping she was set. The words might have been accidentally transposed at the press. Weeping margent, however, is, I believe, right, being much in our author's manner. Weeping for weeped or be-weeped; the margin wetted with tears. Malone. To weep is to drop. Milton talks of “Groves whose rich trees wept od'rous gums and balm.” Pope speaks of the “weeping amber,” and Mortimer observes that “rye-grass grows on weeping ground,” i. e. lands abounding with wet, like the margin of the river on which this damsel is sitting. The rock from which water drops, is likewise poetically called a weeping rock: &grK;&grr;&grha;&grn;&grh;&grn;&grt;&grap; &gras;&gre;&grn;&gra;&gro;&grn; &grp;&grea;&grt;&grr;&grh;&grst; &gras;&grp;&grog; &grD;&grA;&grK;&grR;&grU;&grO;&grE;&grS;&grS;&grH;&grST;. Steevens.

Note return to page 1152 8Where want cries some, &lblank;] I suspect our author wrote: Where want craves some— Malone. I cry halves, is a common phrase among school-boys. Steevens.

Note return to page 1153 9Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;] So, in The Tempest: “My son i' the ooze is bedded.” Malone. Again, ibid: “&lblank; I wish “Myself were mudded in that oozy bed “Where my son lies.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1154 1With sleided silk &lblank;] Sleided is ravelled. So, in Pericles: “Be't when she weav'd the sleided silk.” Malone.

Note return to page 1155 2With sleided silk feat and affectedly Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy.] To be convinced of the propriety of this description, let the reader consult the Royal Letters &c. in the British Museum, where he will find that anciently the ends of a piece of narrow ribbon were ravelled and placed under the seals of letters, to connect them more closely. Steevens.

Note return to page 1156 3And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear,] The quarto reads, I think, corruptedly: &lblank; and often gave to tear. We might read: &lblank; and often gave a tear. But the corresponding rhime rather favours the conjecture which I have inserted in the text. Besides, her tears had been mentioned in the preceding line. Malone.

Note return to page 1157 4&lblank; that the ruffle knew] Rufflers were a species of bullies in the time of Shakspeare. “To ruffle in the common-wealth,” is a phrase in Titus Andronicus. See note on that passage, Vol. VIII. p. 474. edit. 1778. Steevens.

Note return to page 1158 5&lblank; and had let go by The swiftest hours &lblank;] Had passed the prime of life, when time appears to move with his quickest pace. Malone.

Note return to page 1159 6&lblank;observed as they flew;] i. e. as the scattered fragments of paper flew. Perhaps, however, the parenthesis that I have inserted may not have been intended by the author. If it be omitted, the meaning will be, that this reverend man, though engaged in the bustle of the court and city, had not suffered the busy and gay period of youth to pass by without gaining some knowledge of the world. Malone.

Note return to page 1160 7&lblank; this afflicted fancy &lblank;] This afflicted love-sick lady. Fancy, it has been already observed, was formerly sometimes used in the sense of love. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “Sighs and tears, poor fancy's followers.” Malone.

Note return to page 1161 8&lblank; his grained bat,] So, in Coriolanus: “My grained ash &lblank;” His grained bat is his staff on which the grain of the wood was visible. Steevens.

Note return to page 1162 9&lblank; her suffering ecstasy &lblank;] Her painful perturbation of mind. So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; Better be with the dead— “Than on the torture of the mind to lie, “In restless ecstacy.” Malone.

Note return to page 1163 1&lblank; though in me you behold The injury of many a blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgment I am old;] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “&lblank; every part about you blasted with antiquity.” Malone.

Note return to page 1164 2Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power:] Thus Lusignan, in Voltaire's Zayre: “Mes maux m'ont affaibli plus encor que mes ans.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1165 3Of one by nature's outwards so commended,] The quarto reads: O one by nature's outwards &c. Mr. Tyrwhitt proposed the emendation inserted in the text, which appears to me clearly right. Malone.

Note return to page 1166 4&lblank; made him her place.] i. e. her seat, her mansion. In the sacred writings the word is often used with this sense. Steevens. So, in As you like it, Vol. III. p. 294. edit. 1778: “This is no place; this house is but a butchery.” Malone.

Note return to page 1167 5What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find:] I suppose he means, things pleasant to be done will easily find people enough to do them. Steevens.

Note return to page 1168 6&lblank;in paradise was sawn.] i. e. seen. This irregular participle, which was forced upon the author by the rhime, is, I believe, used by no other writer. Malone. The same thought occurs in K. Henry V: “Leaving his body as a paradise.” Again, in Romeo and Juliet: “In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1169 7His phœnix down &lblank;] I suppose she means matchless, rare, down. Malone.

Note return to page 1170 8Yet show'd his visage &lblank;] The words are placed out of their natural order for the sake of the metre: Yet his visage show'd &c. Malone.

Note return to page 1171 9Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm &c.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; his voice was property'd “As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; “But when he meant to quail, and shake the orb, “He was as rattling thunder.” Again, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “He hath a tear for pity, and a hand “Open as day to melting charity; “Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd he's flint; “As humorous as winter, and as sudden “As flaws congealed in the spring of day.” Malone. Again, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; and yet as rough, “Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rudest wind, “That by the top doth take the mountain pine, “And make him stoop to the vale.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1172 *When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.] So, Amiens in As you like it, addressing the wind: “Thou art not so unkind, “Although thy breath be rude.” Malone.

Note return to page 1173 1That horse his mettle from his rider takes.] So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: “For from his metal was his party steel'd.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1174 †But quickly on this side &lblank;] Perhaps the author wrote—his. There is however no need of change. Malone.

Note return to page 1175 1All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, Can for additions, &lblank;] This is the reading of the quarto and the modern editions. It appearing to me unintelligible, I have substituted what I suppose to have been the author's word. The same mistake happened in Macbeth, where we find “&lblank; As thick as tale “Can post with post &lblank;” printed instead of “Came post with post.” Malone.

Note return to page 1176 2&lblank; yet their purpos'd trim Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by him.] So, in Timon of Athens: “You mend the jewel by the wearing it.” Malone.

Note return to page 1177 3Catching all passions in his craft of will;] These lines, in which our poet has accidentally delineated his own character as a dramatist, would have been better adapted to his monumental inscription, than such as are placed on the scroll in Westminster Abbey. By our undiscerning audiences, however, they are always heard with profounder silence, and follow'd by louder applause than accompany any other passage throughout all his plays. The vulgar seem to think they were selected for publick view, as the brightest gems in his poetick crown. Steevens.

Note return to page 1178 4That he did in the general bosom reign] So, in Hamlet: “And cleave the general ear with horrid speech.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1179 5&lblank; he did in the general bosom reign Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted, &c.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; Such a holy witch, “That he enchants societies to him.” Malone.

Note return to page 1180 6&lblank; following where he haunted:] Where he frequented. So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; here in the publick haunt of men.” Malone.

Note return to page 1181 7&lblank; the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.] So, Timon, addressing himself to the gold he had found: “&lblank; Thou'lt go, strong thief, “When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1182 8And was my own fee-simple &lblank;] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; What concern they? “The general cause? or is it a see-grief “Due to some single breast?” Malone.

Note return to page 1183 9&lblank; the foil Of this false jewel, &lblank;] So, in K. Richard II: “&lblank; thy weary steps “Esteem a foil, in which thou art to set “The precious jewel of thy home return.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1184 1&lblank; in others' orchards grew,] Orchard and garden were, in ancient language, synonymous. Our author has a similar allusion in his 16th Sonnet: “&lblank; many maiden gardens yet unset, “With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, “Much liker than your painted counterfeit.” Malone.

Note return to page 1185 2Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;] So, in Hamlet: “Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, “Meer implorators of unholy suits.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1186 3Thought, characters, and words, merely but art,] Thought is here, I believe, a substantive. Malone.

Note return to page 1187 4And long upon these terms I held my city,] Thus, in The Rape of Lucrece: “So did I, Tarquin; so my Troy did perish.” Malone.

Note return to page 1188 5Love made them not; with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind:] Thus the old copy. I have not met the word acture in any other place, but suppose it to have been used as synonymous with action. His offences that might be seen abroad in the world, were the plants before mentioned, that he had set in others' gardens. The meaning of the passage then should seem to be—My illicit amours were merely the effect of constitution, and not approved by my reason.—Pure and genuine love had no share in them or in their consequences; for the mere congress of the sexes may produce such fruits, without the affections of the parties being at all engaged. Malone.

Note return to page 1189 6Among the many that mine eyes have seen, &c.] So, in The Tempest: “&lblank; Full many a lady “I have ey'd with best regard,—but never any “With so full soul—” Steevens.

Note return to page 1190 7&lblank; to the smallest teen,] Teen is sorrow. Malone.

Note return to page 1191 8Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me,] Fancy is here used for love or affection. So, in The Rape of Lucrece: “A martial man to be soft fancy's slave.” Malone.

Note return to page 1192 9Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.] So, in Hamlet: “Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1193 1And lo! behold these talents of their hair &c.] These lockets, consisting of hair platted and set in gold. Malone.

Note return to page 1194 2&lblank; amorously impleach'd,] Impleach'd is interwoven; the same as pleached, a word which our author uses in Much ado about Nothing, and in Antony and Cleopatra: “&lblank; Steal into the pleached bower, “Where honey-suckles ripen'd by the sun “Forbid the sun to enter.” “&lblank; with pleach'd arms bending down “His corrigible neck.” Malone.

Note return to page 1195 3&lblank; Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality.] In the age of Shakspeare, peculiar virtues were imputed to every species of precious stones. Steevens.

Note return to page 1196 4&lblank; Whereto his invis'd properties did tend;] Invis'd for invisible. This is, I believe, a word of our author's coining. His invised properties are the invisible qualities of his mind. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis: “Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love “Thy inward beauty and invisible.” Malone.

Note return to page 1197 5O then advance of yours that phraseless hand, Whose white weighs down &c.] So, in Romeo and Juliet: “&lblank; they may seize “On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand.” Malone.

Note return to page 1198 6&lblank; and to your audit comes] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; in compt, “To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, “Still to return your own.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1199 7Or sister sanctified of holiest note;] The poet, I suspect, wrote: A sister sanctified, of holiest note. Malone.

Note return to page 1200 8Which late her noble suit in court did shun,] Who lately retired from the solicitation of her noble admirers. The word suit, in the sense of request or petition, was much used in Shakspeare's time. Malone.

Note return to page 1201 9Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote,] Whose accomplishments were so extraordinary that the flower of the young nobility were passionately enamoured of her. Malone.

Note return to page 1202 1For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,] By nobles; whose high descent is marked by the number of quarters in their coats of arms. So, in our author's Rape of Lucrece: “Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, “And be an eye-sore in my golden coat.” Malone.

Note return to page 1203 2Playing the place which did no form receive, Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves:] This passage is evidently corrupt. I suspect the words playing and form in the first line, and playing in the second, the metre of which shows that some word of one syllable stood here originally. It was probably overlooked by the printer, whose eye might have glanced on the preceding line, and caught the first word from thence, which I believe he also misprinted.—The lover is speaking of a nun who had voluntarily retired from the world. But what merit (he adds) could she boast, or what was the difficulty of such an action? What labour is there in leaving what we have not, [i. e. what we do not enjoy—See Rape of Lucrece, p. 481. n. 6.] or in restraining desires that do not agitate our breast? So far is clear. The sense of the next two lines was perhaps this.— [What labour is there in] securing that heart which had received no impression of love, and which therefore might with sufficient patience endure and even frolick in voluntary confinement? But what the words were, of which I suppose this to have been the sense, it is difficult to form even a conjecture. Perhaps we ought to read thus: But O my sweet! what labour is't to leave The thing we have not; mastering what not strives; Paling the place which does no fawn receive?— Play patient sports in unconstrained gyves: She that her fame &c. The poet might have compared the unfeeling heart of this recluse in her voluntary retirement, to a park without deer, unnecessarily inclosed with pales. So, afterwards: “And now she would the caged cloister fly.” This image, fanciful as it may appear, our author has introduced into his Venus and Adonis: “Fondling, saith she, since I have hemm'd thee here,   “Within the circuit of this ivory pale, “I'll be thy park, and thou shalt be my deer;   “Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or on dale.” Malone. I do not believe there is any corruption in the words &lblank; did no form receive, as the same expression occurs again in the last stanza but three: “&lblank; a plenitude of subtle matter, “Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives.” Again, in Twelfth Night: “How easy is it for the proper false “In women's waxen hearts to set their forms?” Steevens.

Note return to page 1204 3&lblank; by the flight,] Perhaps the author wrote—by her flight. Steevens.

Note return to page 1205 4Not to be tempted would she be enur'd,] Thus the quarto; from which the reading of the text has been formed. The modern editions have—immur'd. Malone. Immur'd is a verb used by Shakspeare in K. Richard III. and The Merchant of Venice. We have likewise immures, subst. in the Prologue to Troilus and Cressida. Steevens.

Note return to page 1206 5My parts had power to charm a sacred sun,] I believe the poet wrote &lblank; a sacred nun. If sun be right, it must mean, the brightest luminary of the cloister. Malone. In Coriolanus, the chaste Valeria is called “the moon of Rome.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1207 6My parts had power to charm a sacred sun, Who disciplin'd I dieted in grace, Believ'd her eyes when they to assail begun, All vows and consecrations giving place.] Thus the quarto and all the modern editions. For the present regulation of the text, the propriety of which, I think, will at once strike every reader, I am indebted to an anonymous correspondent, whose communications have been already acknowledged. Malone.

Note return to page 1208 7&lblank; When thou wilt inflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame?] Thus, in Rowe's Lady Jane Gray: “&lblank; every other joy, how dear soever, “Gives way to that, and we leave all for love. “At the imperious tyrant's lordly call, “In spite of reason and restraint we come, “Leave kindred, parents, and our native home. “The trembling maid, with all her fears he charms &c.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1209 8Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule &c.] I suspect our author wrote Love's arms are proof 'gainst rule, &c. The meaning, however, of the text as it stands, may be—The warfare that love carries on against rule, sense &c. produces to the parties engaged a peaceful enjoyment, and sweetens &c. The construction in the next line is perhaps irregular.—Love's arms are peace &c. and love sweetens—. Malone. Perhaps we should read: Love aims at peace— Yet sweetens &c. Steevens.

Note return to page 1210 9And sweetens in the suffering pangs it bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.] So, in Cymbeline: “&lblank; a touch more rare “Subdues all pangs, all fears.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1211 1This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then were level'd on my face;] The allusion is to the old English fire-arms, which were supported on what was called a rest. Malone.

Note return to page 1212 2&lblank; gate the glowing roses That flame &lblank;] That is, procured for the glowing roses in his cheeks that flame &c. Gate is the ancient perfect tense of the verb to get. Malone.

Note return to page 1213 3O cleft effect! &lblank;] O divided and discordant effect! O cleft &c. is the modern reading. The old copy has—Or cleft effect, from which it is difficult to draw any meaning. Malone.

Note return to page 1214 4&lblank; resolv'd my reason into tears;] So, in Hamlet: “Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1215 5&lblank; my white stole of chastity I daft,] To daff or doff is to put off,—do off. Malone.

Note return to page 1216 6Applied to cautels, &lblank;] Applied to insidious purposes, with subtilty and cunning. So, in Hamlet: “Perhaps he loves you now;— “And now no soil of cautel doth besmirch “The virtue of his will.” Malone.

Note return to page 1217 *&lblank; not a heart which in his level came, Could scape &c.] So, in K. Henry VIII: “&lblank; I stood i' the level “Of a full-charg'd confederacy.” Steevens. Again, in our author's 117th Sonnet: “Bring me within the level of your frown, “But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate.” Malone.

Note return to page 1218 7&lblank; in heart-wish'd luxury,] Luxury formerly was used for lasciviousness. Malone.

Note return to page 1219 8He preach'd pure maid, &lblank;] We meet with a similar phraseology in K. John: “He speaks plain cannon fire, and bounce, and smoke.” Again, in K. Henry V: “I speak to thee plain soldier.” Malone.

Note return to page 1220 9&lblank; like a cherubin above them hover'd.] So, in Macbeth: “&lblank; or heaven's cherubin hors'd “Upon the sightless couriers of the air.” Steevens.

Note return to page 1221 1O, that forc'd thunder from his heart did fly,] So, in Twelfth Night: “With groans that thunder love, and sighs of fire.” Malone.

Note return to page 1222 2O, all that borrow'd motion, seeming ow'd,] That passion which he copied from others so naturally that it seemed real and his own. Ow'd has here, as in many other places in our author's works, the signification of owned. Malone.

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