Patroclus6 note.
Achil.
Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you this?
How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man?
Ther.
You see him there, do you?
Achil.
Ay; what's the matter?
Ther.
Nay, look upon him.
Achil.
So I do: what's the matter?
Ther.
Nay, but regard him well.
-- 43 --
Achil.
Well, why I do so.
Ther.
But yet you look not well upon him; for,
whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.
Achil.
I know that, fool.
Ther.
Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax.
Therefore I beat thee.
Ther.
Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters!
his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his
brain, more than he has beat my bones: I will buy
nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not
worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles,
Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in
his head, I'll tell you what I say of him.
Achil.
What?
Ther.
I say, this Ajax—
Achil.
Nay, good Ajax.
[Ajax offers to strike him.
Ther.
Has not so much wit—
Achil.
Nay, I must hold you.
Ther.
As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for
whom he comes to fight.
Achil.
Peace, fool!
Ther.
I would have peace and quietness, but the
fool will not: he there; that he, look you there.
Ajax.
O, thou damned cur! I shall—
Achil.
Will you set your wit to a fool's?
Ther.
No, I warrant you; for a fool's will shame it.
Patr.
Good words, Thersites.
Achil.
What's the quarrel?
Ajax.
I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of
the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
Ther.
I serve thee not.
Ajax.
Well, go to, go to.
Ther.
I serve here voluntary.
Achil.
Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not
voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was
here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.
-- 44 --
Ther.
Even so?—a great deal of your wit, too, lies
in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall
have a great catch, if he knock out either of your
brains: he were as good crack a fusty nut with no
kernel.
Achil.
What, with me too, Thersites?
Ther.
There's Ulysses, and old Nestor,—whose wit
was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes7 note,
—yoke you like draught oxen, and make you plough
up the war.
Achil.
What? what?
Ther.
Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles, to Ajax, to—
Ajax.
I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther.
'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou,
afterwards.
Patr.
No more words, Thersites; peace8 note!
Ther.
I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach9 note
bids me, shall I?
Achil.
There's for you, Patroclus.
Ther.
I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I
come any more to your tents: I will keep where there
is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
[Exit.
Patr.
A good riddance.
Achil.
Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all our host:—
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun1 note,
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach; and such a one, that dare
-- 45 --
Maintain—I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.
Ajax.
Farewell. Who shall answer him?
Achil.
I know not: it is put to lottery; otherwise,
He knew his man.
Ajax.
O! meaning you.—I will go learn more of it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace.
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and Helenus.
Pri.
After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:—
“Deliver Helen, and all damage else—
As honour, loss of time, travail, expence,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this cormorant war,—
Shall be struck off:”—Hector, what say you to't?
Hect.
Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I,
As far as toucheth my particular,
Yet, dread Priam,
There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out—“Who knows what follows?”
Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches2 note
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go:
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes3 note,
Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
-- 46 --
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten,
What merit's in that reason, which denies
The yielding of her up?
Tro.
Fie, fie! my brother
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
So great as our dread father, in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite?
And buckle in a waist most fathomless,
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame!
Hel.
No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons,
You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
Because your speech hath none, that tells him so?
Tro.
You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest:
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons:
You know, an enemy intends you harm,
You know, a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm.
Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove 11Q08324 note,
Or like a star dis-orb'd?—Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep: manhood and honour
Should have hare hearts5 note, would they but fat their thoughts
With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect
-- 47 --
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.
Hect.
Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
The holding.
Tro.
What is aught, but as 'tis valued?
Hect.
But value dwells not in particular will;
It holds his estimate and dignity,
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself,
As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry,
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will dotes, that is inclinable6 note
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of th' affected merit.
Tro.
I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment. How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose? there can be no evasion
To blench from this7 note, and to stand firm by honour.
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
When we have soil'd them8 note; nor the remainder viands
We do not throw in unrespective sieve,
Because we now are full. It was thought meet,
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks:
Your breath of full consent9 note bellied his sails;
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd;
And for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held captive,
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness
-- 48 --
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning1 note.
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt.
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,
As you must need, for you all cry'd—“Go, go;”
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize,
As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And cry'd—“Inestimable!” why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base,
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!
Cas. [Within.]
Cry, Trojans, cry!
Pri.
What noise? what shriek is this?
Tro.
'Tis our mad sister: I do know her voice.
Cas. [Within.]
Cry, Trojans!
Hect.
It is Cassandra.
Enter Cassandra, raving2 note.
Cas.
Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
Hect.
Peace, sister, peace!
Cas.
Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld3 note,
-- 49 --
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears:
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand;
Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen, and a woe!
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go.
[Exit.
Hect.
Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains
Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse? or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualify the same?
Tro.
Why, brother Hector,
We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it;
Nor once deject the courage of our minds,
Because Cassandra's mad: her brain-sick raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel,
Which hath our several honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons;
And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen
To fight for, and maintain.
Par.
Else might the world convince of levity4 note,
As well my undertakings, as your counsels;
But, I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project:
For what, alas! can these my single arms?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
-- 50 --
To stand the push and enmity of those
This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit. 11Q0833
Pri.
Paris, you speak
Like one besotted on your sweet delights:
You have the honey still, but these the gall.
So to be valiant is no praise at all.
Par.
Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it,
But I would have the soil of her fair rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What treason were it to the ransack'd queen,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up,
On terms of base compulsion? Can it be,
That so degenerate a strain as this,
Should once set footing in your generous bosoms?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended; nor none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the subject: then, I say,
Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well,
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.
Hect.
Paris, and Troilus, you have both said well;
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloz'd,—but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distemper'd blood,
Than to make up a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure, and revenge,
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
-- 51 --
Of any true decision. Nature craves,
All dues be render'd to their owners: now,
What nearer debt in all humanity
Than wife is to the husband? if this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbed wills, resist the same,
There is a law in each well-order'd nation,
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king,
As it is known she is, these moral laws
Of nature, and of nation, speak aloud
To have her back return'd: thus to persist
In doing wrong extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion
Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,
My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keep Helen still;
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance
Upon our joint and several dignities.
Tro.
Why, there you touch'd the life of our design:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honour and renown;
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds;
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canonize us:
For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.
Hect.
I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus.—
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
-- 52 --
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits.
I was advertis'd, their great general slept,
Whilst emulation in the army crept:
This, I presume, will wake him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' Tent.
Enter Thersites.
Ther.
How now, Thersites! what! lost in the labyrinth
of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it
thus? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction!
would, it were otherwise; that I could beat
him, whilst he railed at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure
and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my
spiteful execrations. Then, there's Achilles,—a rare
engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine
it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves.
O, thou great thunder-darter of Olympus!
forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and, Mercury,
lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if ye
take not that little, little, less-than-little wit from them
that they have; which short-armed ignorance itself
knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention
deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing
their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the
vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather the Neapolitan
bone-ache5 note; for that, methinks, is the curse
dependant on those that war for a placket. I have said
my prayers, and devil, envy, say Amen. What, ho!
my lord Achilles!
-- 53 --
Enter Patroclus.
Patr.
Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites,
come in and rail.
Ther.
If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit,
thou wouldest not have slipped out of my contemplation;
but it is no matter: thyself upon thyself! The
common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be
thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor,
and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be
thy direction till thy death! then, if she, that lays thee
out, says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn
upon't, she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen.
Where's Achilles?
Patr.
What! art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?
Ther.
Ay; the heavens hear me!
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Who's there?
Patr.
Thersites, my lord.
Achil.
Where, where?—Art thou come? Why, my
cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself
in to my table so many meals? Come; what's Agamemnon?
Ther.
Thy commander, Achilles. Then, tell me,
Patroclus, what's Achilles?
Patr.
Thy lord, Thersites. Then, tell me, I pray
thee, what's thyself?
Ther.
Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus,
what art thou?
Patr.
Thou must tell6 note, that knowest.
Achil.
O! tell, tell.
Ther.
I'll decline the whole question7 note. Agamemnon
commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus'
knower; and Patroclus is a fool.
-- 54 --
Patr.
You rascal8 note!
Ther.
Peace, fool! I have not done.
Achil.
He is a privileged man.—Proceed, Thersites.
Ther.
Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool;
Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.
Achil.
Derive this: come.
Ther.
Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command
Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon;
Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and
Patroclus is a fool positive.
Patr.
Why am I a fool?
Ther.
Make that demand of the prover9 note.—It suffices
me, thou art. Look you, who comes here?
Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, and Ajax.
Achil.
Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody.—Come in
with me, Thersites.
[Exit.
Ther.
Here is such patchery1 note, such juggling, and
such knavery! all the argument is a cuckold, and a
whore; a good quarrel, to draw emulous factions, and
bleed to death upon. Now, the dry serpigo on the
subject, and war and lechery confound all2 note!
[Exit.
Agam.
Where is Achilles?
Patr.
Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord.
Agam.
Let it be known to him that we are here.
-- 55 --
We sent our messengers 11Q08343 note; and we lay by
Our appertainments visiting of him:
Let him be told so, lest, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place4 note
,
Or know not what we are.
Patr.
I shall say so to him.
[Exit.
Ulyss.
We saw him at the opening of his tent:
He is not sick.
Ajax.
Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may
call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by
my head, 'tis pride: but why? why? let him show us
a cause.—A word, my lord5 note.
[Taking Agamemnon aside.
Nest.
What moves Ajax thus to bay at him?
Ulyss.
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.
Nest.
Who? Thersites?
Ulyss.
He.
Nest.
Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his
argument.
Ulyss.
No, you see, he is his argument, that has his
argument, Achilles.
Nest.
All the better; their fraction is more our wish,
than their faction: but it was a strong composure, a
fool could disunite.
Ulyss.
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may
easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.
Nest.
No Achilles with him.
-- 56 --
Re-enter Patroclus.
Ulyss.
The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy:
his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
Patr.
Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness, and this noble state,
To call upon him: he hopes, it is no other,
But, for your health and your digestion sake,
An after-dinner's breath.
Agam.
Hear you, Patroclus.
We are too well acquainted with these answers;
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater,
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And underwrite in an observing kind
His humorous predominance; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if 11Q0835
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide6 note
. Go, tell him this: and add,
-- 57 --
That, if he overhold his price so much,
We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report—
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war.
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant:—tell him so.
Patr.
I shall; and bring his answer presently.
[Exit.
Agam.
In second voice we'll not be satisfied,
We come to speak with him.—Ulysses, enter you7 note.
[Exit Ulysses.
Ajax.
What is he more than another?
Agam.
No more than what he thinks he is.
Ajax.
Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks
himself a better man than I am?
Agam.
No question.
Ajax.
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he
is?
Agam.
No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant,
as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether
more tractable.
Ajax.
Why should a man be proud? How doth
pride grow? I know not what pride is.
Agam.
Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your
virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up himself:
pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle;
and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours
the deed in the praise.
Ajax.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering
of toads.
Nest.
Yet he loves himself: is't not strange?
[Aside.
-- 58 --
Re-enter Ulysses.
Ulyss.
Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Agam.
What's his excuse?
Ulyss.
He doth rely on none;
But carries on the stream of his dispose
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar and in self-admission.
Agam.
Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Untent his person, and share the air with us?
Ulyss.
Things small as nothing, for request's sake only,
He makes important. Possess'd he is with greatness;
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself8 note: what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it
Cry—“No recovery.”
Agam.
Let Ajax go to him.—
Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent:
'Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led,
At your request, a little from himself.
Ulyss.
O Agamemnon! let it not be so.
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
When they go from Achilles: shall the proud lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam9 note,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts,—save such as doth revolve
And ruminate himself,—shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he?
-- 59 --
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is1 note, by going to Achilles:
That were to enlard his fat-already pride;
And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid;
And say in thunder—“Achilles, go to him.”
Nest.
O! this is well; he rubs the vein of him.
[Aside.
Dio.
And how his silence drinks up this applause!
[Aside.
Ajax.
If I go to him, with my armed fist
I'll pash him o'er the face.
Agam.
O, no! you shall not go.
Ajax.
An 'a be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride2 note.
Let me go to him.
Ulyss.
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
Ajax.
A paltry, insolent fellow!
Nest.
How he describes
Himself?
[Aside.
Ajax.
Can he not be sociable?
Ulyss.
The raven
Chides blackness.
[Aside.
Ajax.
I'll let his humours blood3 note.
-- 60 --
Agam.
He will be the physician, that should be the patient.
[Aside.
Ajax.
An all men were o' my mind,—
Ulyss.
Wit would be out of fashion.
[Aside.
Ajax.
'A should not bear it so,
'A should eat swords first: shall pride carry it?
Nest.
An 'twould, you'd carry half.
[Aside.
Ulyss.
'A would have ten shares4 note.
[Aside.
Ajax.
I will knead him; I will make him supple.
Nest.
He's not yet thorough warm: force him with praises.
Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry.
[Aside.
Ulyss.
My lord, you feed too much on this dislike.
[To Agamemnon.
Nest.
Our noble general, do not do so.
Dio.
You must prepare to fight without Achilles.
Ulyss.
Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm.
Here is a man—but 'tis before his face;
I will be silent.
Nest.
Wherefore should you so?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
Ulyss.
Know the whole world, he is as valiant.
Ajax.
A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us!
Would, he were a Trojan!
Nest.
What a vice
Were it in Ajax now—
Ulyss.
If he were proud?
Dio.
Or covetous of praise?
Ulyss.
Ay, or surly borne?
-- 61 --
Dio.
Or strange, or self-affected?
Ulyss.
Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure;
Praise him that got thee, her that gave thee suck:
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition5 note;
But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts: here's Nestor,
Instructed by the antiquary times,
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise;
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.
Ajax.
Shall I call you father?
Nest.
Ay, my good son6 note.
Dio.
Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.
Ulyss.
There is no tarrying here: the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war:
Fresh kings are come to Troy; to-morrow,
We must with all our main of power stand fast:
And here's a lord,—come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Agam.
Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep:
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep7 note.
[Exeunt.
-- 62 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
