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 Trinity College Library 
 
 DURHAM, N. C. 
 
 1903 
 
 hh 
 
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 PERKINS LIBRARY 
 
 Duke University 
 
 Kare Dooks 
 
L 
 
SHAKSPEARE'S HIMSELF AGAIN: 
 
 OR 
 
 Cfje Language of t&c Ipoct asfsfertcD : 
 
 BEING A 
 
 FULL EUT DISPASSIONATE EXAMEN 
 
 OF THE 
 
 READINGS AND INTERPRETATIONS 
 
 Or THE SEVERAL EDITORS. 
 
 THE WHOLE 
 COMPRISED IN A SERIES 
 OF NOTES, SIXTEEN HUNDRED IN 
 NUMBER, AND FURTHER ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 THE MORE DIFFICULT PASSAGES IN HIS PLAYS, — ■ 
 TO THE VARIOUS EDITIONS OF "WHICH THE PRE- 
 SENT VOLUMES FORM A COMPLETE 
 AND NECESSARY SUPPLEMENT. 
 
 BY ANDREW BECKET ; 
 
 Author of Lucianus Redivivus, &c. &c, 
 
 Nairn a ilfece e poi ruppc la stampa. Asiosto. 
 
 LV 771 O VOLUMES. 
 VOL. r. 
 
 T 
 
 Lontion: 
 
 /« 
 
 printed by a. j. valpy, tooke's court, 
 
 chancery lane. 
 
 SOLD BY MESSRS. LAW AND WHITTAKER; LONGMAN, 
 
 HURST AND CO.; LACK1NGTON AND CO.; RlVlNGTON 
 Zf~ AND CO.; BALDWIN AND CO.; J. RICHARD- 
 
 iD SON; SHERWOOD AND CO.; LONDON. 
 
 _) PARKER, OXFORD; MACRED1E AND 
 
 ^y CO. EDINBURGH. 
 
 A 1815. 
 
r. I 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Ihe world is in possession of so many excellent dis- 
 courses respecting Shakspeare, that to insist on his merit 
 at the present day were only to repeat the sentiments 
 contained in them. But though the general excellence 
 of the Poet, is admitted on all hands, his particular ex- 
 pression has (except in the instance of the Editor War- 
 burton',) been very frequently misunderstood. This is a 
 matter, however, which will best appear by an attentive 
 perusal of the notes and observations which I have now 
 
 1 u O learning ! — Open thy Maeonian and thy Mantuan coffers, with 
 whatever else includes thy philosophic, thy poetic, and thy historical 
 treasures, whether with Greek or Roman characters thou hast chosen to 
 inscribe the ponderous chests; give me awhile that key to all thy trea- 
 sures, which t thy Warburton thou hast intrusted." 
 
 " Reader it is impossible we should know what sort of person thou wilt 
 be , for perhaps thou may'st be as learned in human nature as Shak- 
 I himself was, «md perhaps thou may'st be no wiser than some ofhis 
 
 editors. Now lest this latter should be the case, we think proper, before 
 we go any fanner together, to give thee a few wholesome admonitions; 
 that thou may'st not as grossly misunderstand and misrepresent'us, as some 
 of the said Editors have misunderstood and misrepresented their author." — 
 Introductory Chapters to Tom Jones. 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 the honor of submitting to the public opinion. The task 
 was laborious but pleasing : It originated in what may be 
 termed adoration of a writer, perhaps the most distin- 
 guished that England can be said to boast ; but who yet, 
 and even like the monumental marble, has suffered con- 
 siderable injury from length of time. But the injury is 
 chiefly discoloration ; the effigies of this terrestrial Jupiter, 
 this maker, this creator, stands majestically firm. Some- 
 thing, more, indeed, was requisite to its beauty than the 
 mere removal of spot or stain : the chisel was to be oc- 
 casionally used with boldness, but it was at the same 
 time to be directed with care. Unhappily, however, this 
 care is little seen. But to speak more particularly, and at 
 once to the point. The only way in which the later com- 
 mentators attempt to elucidate Shakspeare, is by produ- 
 cing what they call parallel passages from the writers of 
 the time : which passages, however, being 'parallel in 
 nothing but a word, while the sense is entirely different, 
 has led to the grossest, the most ridiculous mistakes : — 
 for it should ever be borne in mind that to illustrate an 
 author properly, the similarity must be found, not in the 
 word alone, but in the thought. Now, it is from attend- 
 ing to little more than the former, that almost all the 
 Editors have failed in their examples : and that we have 
 still so very many errors to correct.' That they have 
 been seemingly diligent, I must readily own : yet such 
 kind of diligence 2 as that which is found in them, darkens 
 
 1 The notes and observations of any worth, and which are subscribed 
 with the name of Steevens, are known to have proceeded, for the most 
 part, from the pen of Capel. In like manner, those attributed to Theo- 
 bald, and which can Le said to be of value, are as certainly the work of 
 Warburton. 
 
 1 " The obscure diligence of the Editor Theobald.'' Thus speaks 
 WarburtoB, and the words may be as aptly applied to Mr. Steevens. 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 instead of illuming, — so that we can with difficulty dis- 
 cover " through the palpable obscure," our " uncouth 
 way/' Addison has well observed, that " in works of 
 criticism, it is absolutely necessary to have a clear and 
 logical head." In this he is incontrovertibly right. 
 But here let me advert to the duty of the Critic and the 
 Annotator, and which I conceive to be nearly as follows : 
 To consider the word which may be liable to challenge in 
 his author, not only in respect to analogy, or as it may 
 resemble in sound or appearance that which he pro- 
 poses to substitute for it, but how far the one he has to 
 offer will agree with the context ; so that no explica- 
 tion, no interpretation whatever, may appear forced or 
 arbitrarily brought in. 
 
 A very frivolous objection has been raised against the 
 Poet, and for. the admission of words which may be 
 considered as new. 1 *' Such," say the Editors, " are 
 not to be received : no example can be found of their 
 use." But it should be remembered that if words are 
 employed by Shakspeare, of which the etymology is un- 
 known : if there be among them such as Philologers 
 declare, themselves unable to trace back to any ancient 
 language whatever, but which seem to be entirely of the 
 writer's formation : why may they not have their origin 
 with Shakspeare as well as with another ? Nay, the 
 greater the genius of the author, the more likely will he 
 be to venture on expressions at once novel and bold. 
 It is from this very circumstance, from this very practice, 
 and which has been so weakly and impoliticly censured, 
 
 ' " I wish we had more liberty to introduce new words by a derivation 
 analogous to others already in use, when they are evidently wanted." 
 Priestly's Introduction to Grammar. 
 
 Why this liberty should not be taken, and generally, it may be diffi- 
 cult to tell. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 that both Homer and Milton have so greatly excelled 
 in sublimity of style.' Thus much with respect to words 
 which may properly be said to be coined by the Poet. 
 As to French and Italian expressions he has used very 
 many : he has likewise no inconsiderable number of words 
 with a Latin sense : and which our Grammarians and 
 Lexicographers, instead of cavilling at, would do well 
 to adopt, since the English language is comparatively 
 weak, 
 
 But it will here be necessary to consider — and I shall 
 do it as concisely as possible — how far it may be permitted 
 to bring conjecture in aid of the Editor, and for the pur- 
 pose of clearing up obscurities which may be said to lie in 
 the Foet's Janet/, and which consequently can be effected 
 in no other way. It has indeed been largely indulged in 
 by Warburton, and hence his excellence as a Critic and a 
 Commentator : hence the very high estimation in which 
 he must ever be held by those who are possessed of a 
 kindred spirit. He was truly the character depicted by 
 the Roman orator ; Vir maiime limatus et subtilis, 
 equally judicious and acute* But this Conjectural Criti- 
 cism, of which I shall presently say more, certain of the 
 Poet's Editors will not by any means admit : nor, from 
 the manner in which, as before observed, they attempt to 
 elucidate him — am I in the least surprised at the objec- 
 tion. They who have looked to verbal mistakes alone, 
 will necessarily exclaim against a mode of interpretation 
 which owes its superiority to strength of intellect : to an 
 
 1 For a defence of the Freedom of Versijicution, and in which Shaks- 
 peare, like his contemporary Dramatists, has largely indulged himself, 
 the reader is referred to Waiburton's excellent preface to the Poet's works. 
 See also the annotations of that Editor (passim :) with the remarks of 
 Webbe and other distinguished critics of the latter aire. 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 intimate acquaintance with the nature of man. I am 
 clearly of the opinion of Johnson in the matter (though 
 much more inclined, by the way, to such kind of criti- 
 cism than himself,) who has remarked that, "there is no 
 danger in conjecture, if proposed as conjecture** This, 
 then, I have practised on every occasion, by confining my 
 emendations entirely to the margin, where they may be 
 suffered to remain, until some future Editor, (who, let it be 
 remembered, must be neither a Theobald nor a Steevens) 
 shall determine on the validity of their claims. 
 
 It must not be imagined from what has gone before, 
 that I declare against the illustration of an author by 
 producing parallel passages from the works of his con- 
 temporaries, or from those of a not very distant age : I 
 am sensible that this is frequently to be done, and with 
 success, — all I contend for is, that it must be practised by 
 well considering the context : by an attention, as I have 
 already remarked, not to the word alone, but to the 
 thought : above all, however, I will maintain, and boldly, 
 that without the " daring conjecture," as Johnson has 
 termed it, Shakspeare would ever remain particularly ob- 
 scure : for as a similarity of talent is wanting, in the 
 writers of his time, it is in vain to search among them for 
 a similarity of sentiment or expression. I yet repeat, 
 that on ordinary occasions, and where, (if it be permitted 
 me so to talk) the Poet is nothing more than man,— such. 
 resemblance is often to be found : and if there be judg- 
 ment to direct in the application, it will be well — the 
 mode of explication may be adopted, I say, with success. 
 
 It is acknowledged, I believe, on all hands, that John- 
 son did little as a commentator on Shakspeare : that is to 
 say, in giving clearness and consistency to the Poet's ex- 
 pression ; while the charge of a want of morality in his 
 writings, is much too hastily advanced. The critic ob- 
 
vin preface. 
 
 serves of him — '* He sacrifices virtue to convenience, and 
 is so much more careful to please than to instruct, that 
 he se^ms to write without an\ moral purpose." But it 
 shi be remembered, that if some things repugnant to 
 our moral feelings Kr - occasionally found in his pages, 
 the Poet is no way deserving of reprehension on that 
 account. It is not himself, but the character who speaks. 
 It is true, indeed, that the stage should be a school of 
 morality, — and it is on this principle — whatever the 
 formalist may think on the matter — that the vicious are 
 presented to our view : — it is not to excite us to imita- 
 tion, but abhorrence, that they are produced on the 
 scene. — And who shall have the temerity to say, that the 
 axiomatical sentences, the lessons in virtue which are 
 scattered through the dramas of Shakspeare, are not such 
 as must inevitably arrest the attention of the good, and 
 tend to the reformation of the bad. But the censure of 
 the critic is not confined to this point alone. He is 
 equally severe when speaking of him in the exercise of 
 his art.- — " Whenever he solicits his invention, or strains 
 his faculties, the offspring of his throes is tumour, mean- 
 ness, tediousness, and obscurity" — with much more to 
 the like effect. Again we are told of one of his plays ; 
 " To remark the tolly of the fiction, the absurdity of the 
 conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of 
 different times, and the impossibility of the events in any 
 system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting 
 imbecility," &c. &c. This is a language by no means 
 allowable in speaking of Shakspeare £ — it is indeed far 
 better suited to the meridian of Paris, than that of 
 London. Beside, what are we to understand by " unre- 
 sisting imbecility ?" The expression is vague and inde- 
 terminate : it gives us nothing but an empty sound. 
 But Johnson on other occasions is frequently more sonq- 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 rous than solid. He says, for instance, that " the chief 
 desire of him that comments an author, is to show how 
 much other commentators have corrupted and obscured 
 him." Bat this is stating the matter perversely. It is 
 certain that a commentator who finds his author obscure, 
 is desirous of noting it : or for what, it may be asked, 
 has he taken up the pen ; and it must be the same, if 
 passages, by whatever means, are rendered corrupt. The 
 fact is, not that he has a desire to show how much pre- 
 ceding annotators have mistaken the sense of the writer 
 they have sat down to expound, but that his works 
 being corrupted, the annotator has a desire to restore 
 him to himself. It is true that in doing this, he exposes 
 the blunders of those who have gone before ; this, how- 
 ever, should not be attributed to choice or " desire" as 
 the learned Gentleman has called it, — but to necessity and 
 the nature of things. 
 
 I must further observe of this Critic, who by the way 
 has been much too highly panegyrized by his followers, 
 that he is remarkably wanting in consistency. In one 
 page, we find him objecting to a word by saying, " it 
 must not be admitted : there is no example of it." In 
 another, " this expression I am forced to propose without 
 the support of any authority for it." If so, why may 
 not the same be practised by other persons and of other 
 words ? 
 
 With like inconsistency, and when speaking of the gene- 
 ral merit of Shakspeare's performances, he observes, "the 
 theatre, generally speaking, is peopled by such characters 
 as were never seen, conversing in a language which was 
 never heard, upon topics which will never arise in the 
 commerce of mankind. But the dialogue of this author is 
 often so evidently determined by the incident which pro- 
 duces it, and is pursued with so much ease and simplicity, 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 that It seems scarcely to claim the merit of fiction, but 
 to have been gleaned, by diligent selection, out of com- 
 mon conversation, and common occurrences :" — " this, 
 therefore, is the praise of Shakspeare, that his drama 
 is the mirror of life j that he who has mazed his imagi- 
 nation, in following the phantoms which other writers 
 raise up before him, may here be cured of his delirious 
 ecstacies, by reading human sentiments in human lan- 
 guage, by scenes from which a hermit may estimate the 
 transactions of the world, and a confessor predict the pro- 
 gress of the passions." — Again, " His comedy pleases 
 by the thoughts and the language, and bis tragedy, for 
 the greater part, by incident and action. His tragedy 
 seems to be skill, his comedy to be instinct. His comedy, 
 indeed, often surpasses expectation or desire." — But 
 how does this agree with what follows ? — " In his comic 
 scenes he is seldom successful when he engages his cha- 
 racters in reciprocations of smartness and contests of sar- 
 casm ; their jests are commonly gross, and their plea- 
 santry licentious ; neither his Gentlemen nor Ladies have 
 much delicacy, nor are sufficiently distinguished from his 
 clowns by any appearance of rehned manners." — ''His 
 declamations, or set speeches, are commonly cold and 
 weak : when he endeavoured, like other tragic writers, 
 to catch opportunities of amplification, and instead of 
 inquiring what the occasion demanded, to show how 
 much his stores of knowledge could supply, he seldom 
 escapes without the pity or resentment- of his reader.". . . 
 
 As to the employing of conjecture in the exposition 
 of Shakspeare, I hold it absolutely indispensable, since, 
 of those expressions which are evidently his own, there 
 are very many which have acquired abstruseness from 
 the lapse of years : while others are wholly unintelligible, 
 •r from the carelessness of the transcriber, the printer, 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 or the error of the critic. It is not with the author, 
 however, but with the latter, that the greater liberty is 
 to be taken : it is with these that we can exercise our 
 license without fear of reproof ; and it is with these, in- 
 deed, that we have chiefly to do, here it is that the diffi- 
 culties are principally found. In a word, and in fact, it is 
 not so much the Poet as his Copier and Commentator 
 that we have to correct. Dr. Johnson has said, though 
 without a due consideration of circumstances, " It were 
 to be wished that we all explained more and amended 
 less." This is certainly desirable, and as it respects the 
 genuine language of Shakspeare, it is a mode which 
 should be pursued at all times ; and it is here adopted, 
 I am to hope, with success. But to attempt an interpre- 
 tation of that which the transcriber, the printer, or the 
 editor, has converted into nonsense, were a strange abuse 
 of intellect indeed, and must infallibly be disgraceful 
 to ourselves : — for how explain that which is wholly 
 inexplicable as it stands, Nothing then is left for us but 
 to explain by conjecture ; and this, it should be remem- 
 bered, can only be done by a particular attention to the 
 context. But as it may even be thought by some that 
 warrant were necessary for this : that is, for an indul- 
 gence in conjectural criticism, — I shall bring forward 
 the opinions, or rather positions, of certain writers, and 
 which might deservedly be erected into laws. — " That 
 many passages have passed in a state of depravation 
 through all the editions is indubitably certain ; of these 
 the restoration is only to be attempted by collation of 
 copies, or sagacity of conjecture. The collator's pro- 
 vince is safe and easy, the conjecturer's perilous and 
 difficult. Yet as the greater part of the plays are extant 
 only in one copy, the peril must not be avoided, nor the 
 difficulty refused." 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 '* That a conjectural critic should often be mistaken, 
 cannot be wonderful, either to others or himself, if it be 
 considered that in his art there is no system. His chance 
 of error is renewed at every attempt. That is an un- 
 happy state, in which danger is hid under pleasure. Con- 
 jecture has all the joy, and all the pride of invention ; 
 and he who has once started a happy change, is too much 
 delighted to consider what objections may rise against it." 
 — Such is the reasoning of Johnson. But if the change 
 is " happy " what will the objections which may be raised 
 against it amount to ? It should not be forgotten, how- 
 ever, that he shortly after proceeds in a different strain. 
 — " Yet conjectural criticism has been of great use in 
 the learned world ; nor is it my intention to depreciate 
 a study, that has exercised so many mighty minds, from 
 the revival of learning to our own age : from the Bishop 
 of Aleria to English Bentley." 
 
 This, indeed, is highly just. Alteration may further 
 be admitted on his own principle, when he says, " Since 
 I have confined my imagination to the margin, it must 
 not be considered as very reprehensible, if I have suffered 
 it to play some freaks in its own dominion :" — " while 
 the text remains uninjured, changes may be safely offer- 
 ed," &c. Johnson's Pre/, to Shale. 
 
 Shakspeare stands in precisely the same predicament 
 as Quintus, the Smyrnean, of whom it has been well 
 observed, " His poem is remarkable for having appeared 
 in the successive editions which it has hitherto obtained, 
 in a state of corruption which scarcely any other work of 
 antiquity exhibits. It was first printed by Aldus from 
 a very inaccurate MS. and the succeeding Editors have 
 transmitted nearly all the errors of the original impres- 
 sion. Many of these, indeed, are little more than very 
 obvious mistakes of transcribers, and may, in numerous 
 
PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 instances, be corrected by the exercise of conjectural 
 aiticism alone, with a confidence little inferior to that 
 which would be derived from the support of ancient 
 MSS. This has accordingly been done by Rhodoman- 
 nus, in his annotations on this poet, with distinguished 
 success, and with a skill which proves his accurate and 
 elegant knowledge of the ancient poetical diction." 
 
 What Bishop Louth has observed of conjecture in re- 
 gard to his translation of Isaiah, will apply sufficiently 
 well to the text of Shakspeare. The words of the learn- 
 ed prelate are as follows : " If the translation should 
 sometimes appear to be merely conjectural, I desire 
 the reader to consider the exigence of the case : and 
 to judge whether it is not better in a very obscure 
 and doubtful passage, to give something probable by 
 way of supplement to the author's sense apparently de- 
 fective, than to leave such passage altogether unintelli- 
 gible." And Dr. Newcombe, in an introduction to his 
 version of the minor prophets, has also said, " Of dark 
 passages, or which exhibit no meaning as they stand, an 
 intelligible reading should be made on the principles of 
 sound criticism." 
 
 I have already remarked on the necessity of conjec- 
 tural criticism in the elucidation of our great Poet ; and 
 have to hope that the sentiments of the learned and inge- 
 nious writers whom I have thus cited, will bear me out 
 in regard to it. That I have not wantonly exercised the 
 privilege granted by them, must be acknowledged by 
 every one acquainted with the writings which I would 
 willingly expound. In a word, I am clearly of opinion, 
 that we should, like Alexander, cut the knot which it is 
 impossible to untie. 
 
 One great particular to be attended to in the exposi- 
 tion of Shakspeare, is, his frequent use of French and 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 Italian words. But this source of explanation I shall 
 here barely advert to, as I have, in several instances, had 
 occasion to speak of it in the margin of the work. 
 
 The Editor, Johnson, reprobates, and justly, the con* 
 duct of critics, who speak scurrilously of each other : 
 who rail at the " stupidity, negligence, ignorance, and 
 asinine tastelessness, of the former editors," Sec. But it 
 is a wretched mistake to give to such men the appellation 
 of ciitic. He who is really deserving of such honorable 
 distinction ; he who actually merits the " noble name" 
 is of a totally different complexion. He will not attempt 
 to condemn by assertion alone. He will not be content 
 to say of the opinion he would dissent from, that " it is 
 ridiculous : " if this be indeed the case, he will prove 
 that such is its character. Scurrility, therefore, will 
 amount to nothing. The " I am Sir Oracle" — the " So 
 I pronounce of it" of the Dogmatist will at no time be 
 admitted by those who have been accustomed to think 
 and judge for themselves. But true criticism, like true 
 poetry, seems to be little understood. 
 
 I have spoken somewhat largely of Dr. Warburton, 
 but with respect to the other, and numerous Editors, 
 I have little to say. Their industry I can acknowledge 
 without a pause. This their toil, it is true, and in the 
 language of Pope, may well be called the dull duty of an 
 editor : unfortunately, however, their labor, as far as it 
 respects the language of the poet, has been not only 
 dull but useless ; since the dark passages are so inva- 
 riably slimmed by them. 1 — That Mr. Steevens has clear- 
 ed up many obscurities as they spring from the manners 
 and customs of the time, I am by no means disposed 
 to deny. In this particular, the world is certainly in-. 
 
 1 Young, 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 debtcd to him : yet this, it should be remembered, he 
 was enabled to do by the aid of books. But with regard 
 to difficulties and intricacies in the sentiment or lan- 
 guage, and in the disentanglement of which the principal 
 merit of a commentator lies, he has little to boast. In- 
 deed, for any interpretation of those expressions which I 
 have termed obscitHties in the Poet's fancy, he had not 
 the smallest talent. Plodding ibilities he certainly pos- 
 sessed, and had he kept in mind the ne sutor, &c. all had 
 been well ; for it must be owned that such abilities, how- 
 ever inferior, are not unprofitable, — that is, and as I have 
 before observed, in regard to the manners, &c. of the 
 age. But unhappily for this critic, and still more un- 
 happily for Shakspeare, he thought himself superior 
 (will posterity believe it?) to almost every scholiast, 
 ancient and modern : superior even to the great, the 
 erudite Warburton ! and at whom he has dared to sneer, 
 after the example of that insipid versifier, Hayley, whose 
 account of the Bishop, by the way, is false and con- 
 temptible, and such as can only be disgraceful to him- 
 self. 
 
 Mr. Malone has said in his preface, " the text is now 
 settled." But it will be seen, I think, that this asser- 
 tion has been much too hastily made, and that the pre- 
 sent publication is by no means a work of supereroga- 
 tion, but necessary at once to the fame of the Poet, and 
 the country which gave him birth. It is not in the 
 " multitude " of commentators, indeed, that " there is 
 safety" —it is not from their number that perfection is to 
 proceed :— yet were particular apology required for 
 what is here undertaken, it might be found in the follow- 
 ing declaration of Dr. Johnson, and in which he invites 
 to a fuller and nicer consideration of the text thaa' that 
 he had been able to give. " To time I have been obliged 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 to resign many passages, which though I did not under- 
 stand them, mil perhaps hereafter be explained ; having, 
 I hope, illustrated some, which others have neglected or 
 mistaken, sometimes by short remarks or marginal direc- 
 tions, such as every editor has added at his will, and 
 often by comments more laborious than the matter will 
 seem to deserve ; but that which is most difficult is not 
 always most important, and to an editor nothing is a 
 trifle by which his author is obscured." 
 
 I repeat, — this invitation, as it may be called, of the 
 critic, has influenced me greatly in regard to the Work. 
 Every passage in the plays, however uncouth the expres- 
 sion, and which the commentators have given up as " ab- 
 solutely unintelligible" (Archaisms are stubborn things) 
 will here be found interpreted : and, as I should hope, 
 to the satisfaction of the admirers of Shakspeare. — As 
 to other difficulties, they are various and many. Some 
 proceed from the use of the grammatical figures, aphce- 
 resis, syncope, and apocope ; and some from the punc- 
 tuation, — but the greater part, as I have already observed, 
 arise from the carelessness of transcribers, printers, and 
 editors. 
 
 Having delivered my sentiments with freedom, touch- 
 ing the qualifications of Mr. Steevens as an annotator 
 (de mortuis nil nisi verum is the maxim I shall always 
 pursue) it might be expected that I should strike his 
 examples, as he calls them, from the page. There is, 
 however, a necessity that they should keep their place. 
 It is highly expedient that he be confuted ; that his 
 errors be fully and particularly shown : for were* not this 
 to be done, his opinions, which have largely gone 
 abroad, might at some future day be received by an 
 injudicious editor, and even recommended by him to the 
 notice of the world ; so that the great poet of nature 
 
PREFACE. XVli 
 
 would be reduced nearly to a level with those whom he 
 was born to instruct.' The matter at issue, indeed, is 
 this : Shakspeare must be sacrificed to Mr. Stcevens, or 
 Mr. Steevens to Shakspeare. Now this being clearly 
 the case, how was it possible to hesitate, even for. a 
 moment, respecting it : and this must be my vindication 
 in regard to the ridicule which I have sometimes thrown 
 on this gentleman, and his opinions. To attempt a 
 serious confutal of him had been indeed absurd. — A jly 
 is not to be broken on the wheel. To sum up the mat- 
 ter in a word — an honest indignation has prompted me 
 to the present censures. I have certainly spoken of 
 this latter editor without reserve : there was, as will be 
 seen in the course of the ensuing pages, an absolute 
 necessity for it. Yet I have been guided invariably by 
 justice and truth. In fine, I speak from no kind of 
 prejudice whatever. If Warburton is held by me as 
 the best, (though much was left by him to be done) and 
 Steevens as the worst of the Poet's critics, it is not from 
 any personal knowledge of either. They were known 
 
 1 Some of this Editors notes, however, together with others of his 
 ' learned coadjutor," I have expunged from the volumes of the edition 
 now preparing for the press. They must he considered as an affiont to 
 the understanding of. any man. e. g. 
 
 " Thaw and resolve itself into a dew." Ham. Resolve means the 
 same as dissolve. 
 
 " Against all colour." Without any pretence of right. 
 
 * Spleen ridiculous " is a ridiculous fit 
 
 " That was the way to make his god-head [Cupid] wax ; 
 " For he hath been five thousand years a bey." 
 To wax anciently signified to grow. Yes, and modernly too, Mr. Steevens. 
 
 " To fine issues." To great consequences. 
 
 "He said he was gentle, but uufoi tunate." Gentle is well-born, 
 of birth above the vulgar, &c. &c. 
 
 If such are to be called illustrations — But it were best to cast them 
 into the oblivious pool. 
 
 SlIAK. I. b 
 
XVU1 PREFACE. 
 
 to me by nothing but their works. But if a further 
 apology be necessary, I have only to say — It will always 
 be pleasing to the ingenuous mind, to acknowledge 
 genius wherever it may be found, and also to defend it, 
 not only against the attacks of envy and malevolence, 
 but against that which might perhaps be still more pre- 
 judicial — the feeble friendship of such a commentator 
 as him whom I have been forced to proscribe. 
 
 I think it unnecessary to remark particularly on the 
 merits of the other Commentators. My sentiments in 
 regard to them will be seen in the following notes. It 
 may not be improper, however, to observe, in a general 
 way, that Warburton, by reason of his critical acumen, 
 and of the taste and judgment so frequently found in 
 his annotations, is entitled to the highest consideration 
 as editor of Shakspeare. His pen may be said to have 
 the power of that of the Poet, since he has in many 
 instances given to " airy nothing " (so considered from 
 the expression not having been understood by those who 
 had gone before him) an actual being, a " local habita- 
 tion and a name : " although, as already hinted, he has 
 left not a little for others to do : for it must in fairness 
 be acknowledged that the quickness of his conceptions 
 have sometimes been fatal to that judgment of which 
 he had so large a share, and he has much too hastily 
 advanced opinions, and with a dogmatical air, which, in 
 his cooler moments, I am persuaded he must have been 
 inclined to retract. But still the boldness of his conjec- 
 tures, and which the tamer critic will consider as a 
 fault, must by the lovers of nature and real genius be 
 commended, since in no one instance can he be charged 
 with absurdity or with inconsistency of any kind — an 
 excellence, indeed, which those who immediately suc- 
 ceeded him, have not to claim. All with him is unU 
 
PREFACE. XIX 
 
 formly grand and striking, and his eccentricities, if so 
 they must be called, demand, and indeed extort, like to 
 those of the " Divinity " whose works he is considering, 
 at once our admiration and respect. In a word, nothing 
 appears labored in him : the master-hand is discoverable 
 in almost all : not but that we occasionally suspect him 
 to have produced by a sort of impatient, yet happy dash 
 of the pencil, that foam which is exhibited on his canvas, 
 and which has been mistaken for the work of art. 
 
 It is not a little painful to observe on the disinge- 
 nuousness of petty critics, who would deny to such a 
 man as Warburton the claim of literary abilities. I 
 will maintain, however, that those abilities were really^r.^- 
 rate, whether he be considered as a religionist and a 
 philosopher (characters which, unhappily, are not always 
 found together) a polemic, or a writer of notes : 
 which latter employment, indeed, has been looked on 
 contemptuously by those who, charmed by trie " whist- 
 ling of a name," had supposed that the scoff of the 
 Twickenham bard was necessarily founded in truth. 
 But at the fantastic and gibing expression alluded to 
 (" the dull duty of an editor") Johnson has very properly 
 manifested his indignation, and in the following words : 
 64 This was a work " (the publication of Shakspeare's 
 plays) " which Pope seems to have thought unworthy 
 of his abilities, being not able to suppress his contempt 
 of the dull duty of an editor. He understood but 
 half his undertaking. The duty of a collator is indeed 
 dull, yet, like other tedious tasks, it is very necessary : 
 but an emendatory critic would ill discharge his duty, 
 without qualities very different from dulness. In peru- 
 sing a corrupted piece, he must have before him all 
 possibilities of meaning, with all possibilities of expression. 
 Such must be his comprehension of thought, and such 
 
XX PREFACE.. 
 
 his copiousness of language. Out of many readings 
 possible, he must be able to select that which best suits 
 with the taste, opinions, and mode of language prevail- 
 ing in every age, and with his author's particular cast 
 of thought and turn of expression. Such must be his 
 knowledge, and such his taste. Conjectural criticism 
 demands more than humanity possesses, and he that ex- 
 ercises it with most praise, has very frequent need of 
 indulgence. Let us now be told no more of the dull 
 dull) of an editor" 
 
 This is all verv just ; though certainly not consistent 
 with the under-cited passage : 
 
 " I could have written longer notes, for the art of wri- 
 ting notes is not of difficult attainment. The work is 
 performed, first by railing at the stupidity, negligence, 
 ignorance, and asinine tasielessness of former editors," 
 &c. 
 
 Thus we find in one page that the business of a com- 
 mentator is far from easy ; and in another that nothing 
 can be more so ; since he has only to rail at the " asi- 
 nine tastelcssness " of the editors who have preceded 
 him. But this concluding assertion, and which I have 
 before remarked on, is peevishly made. The " art 
 of writing notes," is attained m a very different 
 manner indeed ! In a word, it may be said of John- 
 son, as I have had occasion to remark of Warburton, 
 that the latter end of his commonwealth forgets the be- 
 ginning ; or that he would prove the truth of his pro- 
 positions by something like the veduclio ad absurdum of 
 the schools. 
 
 It is for the honor of the nation to stand forward in 
 the cause of Shakspeare. " O Menander and Nature ! 
 which of you copied your pieces from the other's 
 works ? " Such is the memorable question of Aristo- 
 
PREFACE. XXI 
 
 phanes the grammarian. How well then may the same 
 be asked of our immortal bard ! 
 
 With respect to the emendations now proposed, 
 (which yet have cost me no little time and attention) I 
 shall leave them, as already hinted, to the decision of 
 the candid and the good : ' and only observe in conclu- 
 sion, and with Tully, though on a different subject — Ut 
 potero, ejrplicabo : nee tamen ut Pythius Apollo, 
 certa ut shit et jixa qua? dixero ; sed ut homullus proba- 
 hilia conjectura sequens. In other words — I shall hope 
 by unceasing industry, and a nice attention to the har- 
 mony of parts, to have exhibited the Poet with his na- 
 tive grace. 
 
 A. Becket. 
 
 1 Thus much in submission to the critically just. To the merally just, 
 I have yet to make appeal in a narrative of the transactions of my life* 
 and in which the -wrongs, the very many wrongs, that have been done me, 
 both in my literary and commercial capacity, will be particularly shown. 
 I may be told, perhaps, that to such kiml of appeals the world will remain 
 indifferent. Of the people collectively taken the assertion is, no doubt, 
 founded : individually it is not the case. Beside, the injuries in question 
 are held out by me as beacons for unworldly men : the " higher order," 
 as Johnson emphatically terms them, and with truth. 
 
 When, therefore, the aforesaid narrative shall pass from the press, I 
 am to hope that the hand of Virtue will be stretched forth for me : not, 
 however, to bring vengeance on the head of my enemies, I w r ould only 
 find protection for myself. Mr. Dallas, in his elegant speech on the 
 trial of Governor Hastings, observed \ " Her attitude," (speaking of Jus- 
 tice) " is most lovely, not when she lifts up her arm to strike the oppres- 
 sor, but when she stoops to raise the oppressed.'' A beautiful picture ! 
 and which the good and generous spirit must ever view with ineffable 
 delight. Yet in speaking of protection let me be rightly understood. 
 It is not pecuniary assistance that I am in search of: it is not for money 
 that " I lay " but " fur hearts." ' 
 
 1 Shakspeare. 
 
Lately published by the Author of the present 
 Annotations. 
 
 1. LUCIANUS REDIVIVUS: Dialogues concerning 
 MENj mannkes, and opimons, (moral, critical, satirical, 
 and gay,) and comprising a great variety of subjects : among 
 ■which are the following : 
 
 On the Literary Character; Conduct of Princes; Satire;, 
 Drama ; Criminal Law ; Poetry ; Fair Criticism ; Coquetry ; 
 Misanthropy ; Imitation; Machiavelism : Shakspeare's Editors; 
 Powers of the Mind; War and Slavery; Hypocrisy and Deceit; 
 Retirement ; Establishment for the Poor ; with Loans to ne- 
 cessitous and industrious Persons, &c. Octavo, 8s. 66. in 
 boards. 
 
 %* The British Critic (to whom the writer is wholly unknown,) 
 has, with the candour and liberality which have so long distinguished 
 him, pronoui ced of the performance, as follows : — " The writing, in the 
 form of Dialogue, is confessedly difficult, and has not often been tried 
 with success in our language. These Dialogues are on miscellaneous 
 subjects, and generally indicative of knowledge of the world, and are 
 also characterised with a great deal of humour. The colloquy between 
 Garrick and Johnson is exceedingly good, which may be said of many 
 of the others. The volume will very agreeably fill up an hour's interval 
 of leisure, and, in particular, offers some good poetical criticism, in the 
 Dialogue between Pope, Churchill, Mason, and Gray." 
 
 2. PUBLIC PROSPERITY; or Arguments in Support 
 of a Plan for raising Six Millions Sterling, and for employing 
 that Sum in Loans to necessitous and industrious Persons. 
 Printed in Pamphleteer, No. 4. 
 
 The love of nature unconfin'd, and chief 
 Of human race, the large ambitious wish 
 To make them blest. Thomson. 
 
 The Reviewers, after setting forth the heads of the project, observe, — 
 "That the benevolent author's plan, judiciously regulated, would increase 
 public prosperity, seems highly probable ; but the most faithful and im- 
 partial conduct of the trustees would be necessary for carrying it into exe- 
 cution." This seeming difficulty, with respect to the trust, would be 
 effectually removed, by naming to it no other than wealthy, unprejudiced, 
 ?.:id, certainly, respectable men, subject nevertheless, and at all times, 
 
XXH1 , 
 
 to parliamentary inquiry and controul. Again, the Reviewers remark: — 
 " This plan, which reconciles in its composition the highest degree qf { 
 benevolence, with general utility, was noticed in a former review. The 
 Author has now re-printed it, for the purpose of more extensive commu- 
 nication, and continues to urge the adoption of it hy many forcible argu- 
 ments." Thus speak the journalists; but it may be proper, briefly, to 
 make known the plan. It is proposed then, in the first instance, to 
 establish a fund, and in perpetuity, for the relief of industrious traders, 
 &c. who may have failed in their several callings. The sum to be 
 advanced (and which must be determined by circumstances) from fifty to 
 five hundred pounds each, returnable in the event of their after-success, 
 and for the use of the public, as before. This scheme, it may be re- 
 marked, would not only give assistance to honest, though unfortunate, 
 men, but release from very hard labour the many who now are subjected 
 to it, in order to procure a scanty subsistence for themselves and 
 families; while by taking them from such employ, and for which they 
 are possibly wholly unfit, it would necessarily bring into useful actio.ii 
 the idler and the sturdy vagabond, confessedly the pests of a state, — 
 reducing, by an equally obvious consequence, the poor-rates in a consi- 
 derable sum. 
 
 3. THE GENII, (good and evil,) Attendants on the human 
 Race: a Masque, 8vo. price 2s. 6d. in New British Theatre, 
 2fo. 4. 
 
 Scit Genius natale comes qui temperat astrum, 
 
 Naturas Deus humanar, mortalis in unum 
 
 Quodque caput; vultu mutabilis, albus et ater. Hor. Epist; 
 
 4. SOCRATES, a Dramatic Poem ; written on the Model 
 of the ancient Greek Tragedy. Second Edition, with (now 
 first printed) an Apoloey for the Author and the Work, 8vo. 
 3s. 6d. 
 
 " O, Athens, renowned City, how much more fortunate art thou than 
 wise!" Eupolis. 
 
 *„* The mixed and irregular Verse ( Apolilemcnon,) so happily adopted, 
 by Milton, in the lyrical parts of his tragedy, and here again attempted, 
 is, unless the Hebrew Poetry be adverted to, almost peculiar to the 
 Greeks; this peculiarity the ordinary Critic is unacquainted with, and, 
 in the genuine spirit of ignorance, at such mode of composition, as well 
 as at the Hellenistic expression, he will be ever inclined to sneer. That 
 the present Drama must be " Caviare to the General" is easily told, — 
 but for them it has not been written : as to some lines which may be 
 called Hexameters, the scene and subject will warrant their use. 
 
 5. THEODOSIUS TO CONSTANTIA ; a Poetical 
 Epistle, 4to. Is. Written at the age of sixteen. 
 
 " The Epistle is animated, and flows in a strain of pathetic sentiments, 
 not unhke the tender and passionate correspondence of Eloisa and 
 Abelard." Critical Review. 
 
 " In this Epistle, which is supposed to be written by Theodosius, im- 
 mediately after his having retired to a Convent, and where he first learnt 
 the falsity of the report concerning the marriage of Constantia, we meet 
 with many good verses," &c. Monthly Review. 
 
XXIV 
 
 * This production is at once distinguishable for poetry and pathos: it 
 should, we think, be printed with the correspondence of Theodosius 
 and Constantia, as published by Dr. Langhorne, in the same manner as 
 Pope's Epistle from Eloisa is prefixed to the Letters of Abelard." 
 Poet. Reg. 
 
 6. TRIP TO HOLLAND: containing Sketches of Cha- 
 racters ; with Cursory Observations on the Manners and Customs 
 of the Dutch, 2 vols. 12mo. New Edition, 5s. sewed. 
 
 This work is in the manner of the Sentimental Jon/net/ through France ; 
 and the Reviewers conclude their account of it with observing — " It is a 
 performance which, in our opinion, Stekne himself would not have been 
 ashamed to own." 
 
 7. WOMAN'S WILL: a Comedy in Five Acts, in New 
 British Theatre, No. 13, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Ardeat ipsa licet tormentis gaudet amantis. Juv. Sat. 
 
 Found by competent judges unfit for the London boards. " A Comedy 
 with the vis comica in it ! without any pantomime, bo-peep scenes — away, 
 away ! it will not do." But still some theatric director may get over 
 these grand objections to the piece, and, grateful fur the public favour, 
 add it to the rationalities of his stage. 
 
 •*£* In the present production, the wretched and hackneyed witticism 
 touching the Bond-street Lounger will not be found: nor any temporary 
 allusion whatever, — allusions, which, to borrow the language of Field- 
 ing, " have rendered modern comedy as dull as a drnzcing-room." The 
 pleasantry here exhibited is such as would have been pleasantry a 
 century or two ago, and which will be the same a century or two hence. 
 It is general and not particular. The latter, indeed, can only be de- 
 scribed as satire, and belongs in no sort to the queen of smiles. To 
 " elevate and surprise" she should utterly disclaim. Murderers, or 
 supposed murderers, with wonderful disclosures at the end of the piece, 
 are foreign to her scene. Such kind of performance may be. called 
 comedy upon stilts, or rather comedy run mad. At the same time it 
 must be 'admitted that a production so conceived may be deserving of 
 praise. It is, however, a praise that belongs to the novel, and has 
 nothing to do in the present case. There are also compositions on the 
 stage with the name of comedies, but which in fact are satires. These 
 too have certainly merit: yet, it is still insisted, that such merit is not of 
 the kind to which it pretends. But whoever is desirous of knowing 
 what comedy really is, must have recourse to Moliere. It is a species 
 of drama in which humor is all in all : plot or story is absolutely 
 as nothing. Who, for instance, has less of perplexity in his plays; less 
 of intrigo, as Mr. Bayes has ludicrously termed it, than the Frenchman 
 in question? Table, it is true, is highly essential to tragedy; and even 
 a complex Ihble. In comedy, on the contrary, so much of story alone is 
 requisite as may serve to draw out character, — business is actually a 
 fault. " Yet this is the taste ot our comedy. Our writers are all for plot 
 and intrigue ; and never appear so well satisfied with themselves as when, 
 to speak in their own phrase, they contrive to have a great deal of 
 business on their hands. Indeed they have reason; tor it hides their in- 
 ability to colour manners, which is the proper, but much harder, province 
 of true comedy.'' Kurd oh the Provinces of the Drama, 
 
5XV 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 Preface iii 
 
 Hamlet 1 
 
 Macbeth 79 
 
 King Lear 125 
 
 Othello 177 
 
 Romeo and Juliet 206 
 
 Measure for Measure • 220 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing 238 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor 251 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream • 264 
 
 Merchant of Venice 280 
 
 AsYouLikelt - 290 
 
 All's Well that Ends Well 303 
 
 Twelfth Night ; or, What You Will 329 
 
 Winter's Tale 349 
 
 Shak. I. 
 
XXVI 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. 
 
 King J ohn * 1 
 
 King Richard II. IS 
 
 King Henry IV. Parti. 32 
 
 Part II. 59 
 
 King Henry V. * 71 
 
 King Henry VI. Part I. 92 
 
 ■ ■ Part II. 98 
 
 Part III. 107 
 
 King Richard III. ill 
 
 King Henry VIII. 124 
 
 Coriolanus 137 
 
 Julius Caesar 1 66 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra * 1 72 
 
 Timon of Athens 205 
 
 Troilus and Cressida 230 
 
 Cymbeliue 253 
 
 The Tempest ••• 283 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona • 295 
 
 Comedy of Errors 302 
 
 The Taming of the Shrew S09 
 
 Love's Labor Lost • • 318 
 
xxvii 
 
 CORRECTIONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 Page. Line. 
 
 39. 7. dele " But " and line 8. read " But what " 
 
 41. 15. read " general charge " 
 
 44. 38. for " said " read " urged " 
 
 46. 18. dele (i. e.) 
 
 52. 16. for " master " read " marten " 
 
 58. 5. from bottom, read " but as " 
 113. 15. read " as night " 
 
 116. 9. place a comma at "late" and line 12. dele (?) 
 142. ult. for " silly " read " sily " 
 210. 4. read " while it is " 
 212. 4. add Steev. 
 £23. 11. from bottom, for " word " read " mark " 
 
 228. 9. from bottom, read " Duke" 
 
 229. 7. dele " and " and lino 21. read " Duke " 
 
 844. 9. from bottom, dele the comma at "ear" and place it at "generally" 
 
 2 19. put a semicolon at " wrake " 
 
 538. after " pale or black " add " (the first as spoken of the countC' 
 
 nance, the latter of the dress ") 
 
 340. for " signs imperfect," road " imperfect signs " 
 
 366. bottom, read, " who had he himselt'cternity, and conld put breath 
 
 into his work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so perfect- 
 ly he is her ape." 
 
 VOL. II. 
 Page. Line. 
 
 20. 7. for " thorn out of" read " romaunt of" 
 
 33. 4. from bottom, read u entraints" 
 
 54. 8. read " is " 
 
 63. after the second note of Johnson insert the following by 
 
 Steevens — " We might as plausiblyread greaves a kind of boots. 
 The metamorphosis of the leathern covers of books into boots, 
 seems to be more apposite than the conversion of them 
 into instruments of war." 
 
 from bottom, for M moralists " read " moralities " 
 for " rock and rocket,'' read " roch and rochet " 
 from bottom, put a full stop at u engagements" 
 from bottom, read " propose" 
 from bottom, for " many " read u some few " 
 read " found united,'' &c. 
 
 The Editor's notes are distinguished by the letter B. except at the follow- 
 ing pages, where it has been omitted in the hurry of the press. 
 
 Vol. I. Page 39— 49— 73— 101—106— 111— 112— 115— 207— 304— 323— 
 349. 
 
 Vol. II. Page 31—44—64—85—178—205—223. 
 
 117. 
 
 5, 
 
 121. 
 
 5. 
 
 144. 
 
 8. 
 
 169. 
 
 12 
 
 248. 
 
 5, 
 
 265. 
 
 2. 
 
Camlet. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Mar. That, if again this apparition come, 
 He may approve our eyes, and speak to it. 
 
 approve our eyes ] Add a new testimony to that 
 
 of our eyes. Johnson. 
 
 So, in Heywood's Iron Age, l6S2. 
 
 " I can by grounded arguments approve 
 " Your power and potency." 
 Sec vol. vii. p. 4,56. Steevens. 
 
 " Approve our eyes." Have proof that we were no 
 
 way mistaken, that we have not been fanciful. He had 
 
 said in the first line of the speech, — ' Horatio says, 'tis but 
 
 our phantasy/ B. 
 
 Ilor. It harrows me with fear, and wonder. 
 It harrows me, <§rc] To harrow is to conquer, to subdue. 
 
 SIIAK. I. A 
 
2 hamlet. Act I. 
 
 The word is of Saxon origin. So, in the old bl. 1. romance of 
 Syr Eglamoure of Artoys : 
 
 " He swore by him that harowcd hell." Steevens. 
 
 " It harrows me with fear and wonder," I am lost in 
 
 fear and wonder, 1 am astounded. B. 
 
 As, by that covenant, 
 And carriage of the articles design'd, 
 His fell to Hamlet. 
 
 as, by that cov'nant 
 
 And cartilage of the articles design'd, 
 
 The old quarto reads : 
 
 as by the same comart ; 
 
 and this is right. Comart signifies a bargain, and carrying of 
 
 the articles, the covenants entered into to confirm that bargain. 
 
 Hence we see the common reading makes a tautology. Wak- 
 
 burton. 
 
 I can find no such word as comart in any dictionary. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 u As by that covenant." Comart is unquestionably the 
 proper word. Every body knows that Mart is a place 
 for making bargains or agreements in. Co is a prefix sig- 
 nifying mutual. The word comart is used by the Poet 
 for interchange, reciprocation. But Comart is not to be 
 found in any Dictionary. Unfortunate Mr. Steevens ! and 
 s.ill more unfortunate Shakespeare ! to fall into the hands 
 of such an Editor. B. 
 
 Hor. In the most high and palmy state of 
 Rome, 
 A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 
 The grave stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. 
 Stars shone with trains of fire : dews of blood fell. 
 
 Stars shone with trains of fire, dews of blood fell ; fyci] 
 Thus Mr. Howe altered these lines, which have no immediate 
 
Scene i. hamlet. 3 
 
 connection with the preceding ones. The quartos read (for 
 the passage is not in the folio): 
 
 As stars with trains of tire, and dews of blood, 
 
 Disasters in the sun, 
 
 Perhaps an intermediate line is lost. Steevexs. 
 
 " Stars shone with trains of fire : dews of blood fell." 
 The arbitrary reading of Rowe should by no means be 
 admitted. The words of the quartos may, with some 
 little alteration (as hues for dews : disastrous for disasters) 
 be restored to the text. The line ' And prologue to the 
 omens coming on/ is misplaced : it should immediately 
 follow ' gibber in the Roman streets.' Prologue, it must 
 be observed, is here a Verb. I regulate the passage as 
 follows : 
 
 The grave stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets : 
 And prologue to the omens coming on ; — 
 As stars with trains of fire ; and hues of blood, 
 Disastrous, in the sun ; — And the moist star 
 Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, 
 AVas sick almost to dooms-day with eclipse, 
 And even the like precurse of fierce events, — 
 As harbingers preceding still the fates, 
 Have Heaven and Earth together demonstrated 
 Unto our climature and countrymen. 
 The whole must be explained thus : Horatio enume- 
 rates the earthly, the lesser prodigies observed at Rome : 
 and represents them as serving ' to prologue,' or usher in 
 the greater : i.e. those of the Heavens. — 'As stars with 
 trains of fire ' [comets'] : with ' hues of blood disastrous 
 in the sun.' While tincts or streaks of blood were seen 
 in the sun, and which portended the most direful events. 
 He then adverts to several of the like preternatural ap- 
 pearances in Denmark, and w hich he considers as prog- 
 nosticating ill. 
 
4 HAMLET. Act i. 
 
 No kind of chasm will now, I believe, be found in the 
 speech : the lines, by transposition, become sufficiently 
 connected, and the expression clear. B. 
 
 • King. Therefore our sometime sister, now our 
 
 queen, 
 The imperial jointress of this warlike state, 
 Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, — 
 With one auspicious, and one dropping eye ; 
 With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, 
 In equal scale weighing delight and dole, — 
 Taken to wife. 
 
 With one auspicious, and one dropping eye;] Thus the 
 folio. The quarto, with somewhat loss of quaintness: 
 
 With an auspicious, and a dropping eye. 
 The same thought, however, occurs in the Winter's Tale: 
 " She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband ; ano- 
 ther elevated that the oracle was fulfilled." Steevens. 
 
 I once thought that dropping in this line meant only depres- 
 sed, or cast downwards; an idea probably suggested by the 
 passage in The Winter's Tale, quoted by Mr. Steevens. But 
 it means, I believe, weeping. " Dropping of the eyes " was 
 a technical expression in our author's time. " If the spring be 
 wet with much southwind, the next summer will happen 
 agues, blearness, dropping of the eyes, and pains of the bow- 
 els." Hopton's Concordancie of yearcs, 8vo. l6l6*. Malone, 
 " Therefore our sometime sister, now our Queen, 
 Have we as 'twere with a defeated joy, 
 With one auspicious, and one dropping eye, 
 With equal scale weighing delight and dole, 
 Taken to wife." 
 
 ' Dropping' is no doubt weeping. But one eye de- 
 lighted, and the other' weeping, (and so the Editors seem 
 to understand the passage) is much too ludicrous here; 
 and hence, perhaps, the reading of the quarto ' an ' and 
 'a.' In the Winter's Tale, c one eye declined, and 
 another elevated,' is not that one eye was cast towards 
 the earth, and the other eye raised to Heaven, but that her 
 
Scene h. hamlet. 5~ 
 
 eye was observed at one time to indicate sorrow, and at 
 another, pleasure ; as she was actuated by different cir- 
 cumstances. The line in the speech of the King of Den- 
 mark, 
 
 With one auspicious, and one dropping eye, 
 
 is certainly corrupt. We may easily read, and the con- 
 text will warrant it, 
 
 With once auspicious, and once dropping eye ; 
 i. e. " alternately : with an eye now joyous, now sorrow- 
 ing." Joyous by reason of his union with Gertrude, and 
 tearful from the loss of his brother. 13. 
 
 King. Colleao-ued with this dream of his advam 
 tage, 
 He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, 
 Importing the surrender of those lands 
 Lost by his father. 
 
 Colleagued with this dream of his advantage.] The meaning 
 is, He goes to war so indiscreetly, and unprepared, that he has 
 no allies to_ support him but a dream, with which he is col- 
 leagued or confederated. Warbhrton. 
 
 llanmer reads collogued, and perhaps rightly, as this word 
 is frequently used by Shakspeare's contemporaries. So, in 
 Maiston's Malecofitent, lfjO-A: "Why look you, we must 
 collogue sometimes, forswear sometimes." Again, in Green's 
 Tu Quoquc, 150Q : " Collogue with her again." Again, in 
 lleywood's Love's Mistress, 1636 : "This collogued lad." 
 Again, in Sice t nam Jrruign'd, 16*20: " For they are cozen- 
 ing, colloguing, ungrateful, ecc." Steevens. 
 
 " Colleagued with this dream of his advantage." The 
 Poet's word, I think, will he colluded. It must have an 
 active signification — having colluded with. This, as 
 meaning joined in deceit with a dream, is more express- 
 ive than the old reading. B. 
 
 King. But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my 
 
 Son, — ■ 
 
6 hamlet. Act I. 
 
 If am. A little more than kin, and less than kind. 
 
 Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.] Kind 
 is the Teiitonick word for child. Hamlet therefore answers 
 with propriety, to the titles of cousin and son, which the king 
 had given him, that he was somewhat more than cousin, and 
 less than son. Johnson. 
 
 In this line, with which Shakspeare introduces Hamlet, Dr. 
 Johnson has perhaps pointid out a nicer distinction than it 
 can justly boast of. To establish the sense contended for, it 
 should have been proved that kind was ever u-ed by any En- 
 glish writer lor child. A little more than kin, is a little more 
 than common nlation. The kins was certainly something less 
 than kind, bj having betrayed the mother ot Hamlet into an 
 indecent and incestuous marriage, and obtained the crown by 
 means which he suspects to be unjustifiable. In the fifth Act, 
 the Prince accuses his uncle ot having popt in between the 
 election and his hopes, which obviates Dr. Warburton's objec- 
 tion to the old reading, viz. that " the king had given no occa- 
 sion for such a reflection." 
 
 A jinole of the same sort is found in Mother Bonilue 1594, 
 and teems to have been proveibial, as I have met with it more 
 
 than once : " the nearer we are in blood, the further we 
 
 must be from love ; the greater the kindred is, the less the 
 kindness must be." 
 
 Again, in Gorboduc, a tragedy, 1565 : 
 
 " In kinde a father, but not kindelyncss." 
 
 A% kind, however, signifies nature, Hamlet may mean that 
 his relationship was become an unnatural one, as it was partly 
 founded upon incest. Our author's Julius Ccesar, Antony and 
 Cleopatra, King Richard 11. and Titus Andrunicus, exhibit 
 instances of kind being used for nature; and so too in this 
 play of Hamlet, act ii. sc. the last : 
 
 Hi mcrseless, treacherous, lecherous, landless villain. 
 
 Dr. Farmer, however, observes that kin is still used for 
 cousin in the midland counties. Steevens. 
 
 Hamlet does not, I think, mean to say, that his uncle k a 
 little more than kin, dvc. The king had called the Prince — 
 <; My cousin Hamlet, and nay son." — His reply therefore is — 
 u I am a little more than thy kinsman, [for 1 am thy step-son ;] 
 and somewhat ltss than kind to thee, [for I hale thee, as being 
 the person who has entered into an incestuous marriage with 
 my mother.] Or, if we understand kind, in its ancient sense, 
 then the meaning will be — / am more than thy kinsman, for I 
 am thy step-son ; bung such, / am less near to thee than thy 
 nut i rai (jr.sj ling, and therefore not entitled to the appellation 
 of son, which you have now given me. Malone, 
 
Scene ii. hamlet. 7 
 
 <( A little more than kin, and less than kind." The 
 word kind is here, I believe,- contracted of kindred, and 
 used not as it may have reference to persona/ affinity, but 
 to that of the mind. It stands for congenial, that is, par- 
 taking of the same genins: being of the same intellectual 
 nature. Hamlet would say, we are more than kin or 
 cousins by birth ; but far removed from it by disposition. 
 In other language, and as we now express it, we are not 
 of kindred spirit : we are not in agreement or concord. 
 " A little more than kin, but less than kindred." 13. 
 
 King* How is it, that the clouds still hang on 
 
 you ? 
 Ham. Not so, my Lord, I am too much i' the 
 
 sun. 
 
 - — too much V the sun.'] He perhaps alludes to the proverb, 
 Out of heaven's blessing into the warm sun. Johnson. 
 
 too much i sun. 
 
 Meaning probably his being sent for from his studies to be 
 exposed at his uncle's marriage as his chief est courtier, &c. 
 
 b'i'E EVENS. 
 
 I question whether a quibble between sun and son be not 
 here intended. Farmer. 
 
 " King. But now, my Cousin Hamlet, and my son — 
 How is it, that the clouds still hang on you ? 
 
 I Tarn. Not so, my Lord, I am too much i' the sun. 
 The King says — " How is it, that the clouds still hang on 
 you ?" This is spoken of the Prince's sorrow : of the 
 grief which is manifested by him for the death of his 
 father. Hamlet answers ambiguously — " Not so ; 1 am 
 too much i' the sun;" which expression may by Claudius 
 be supposed to signify, that die sun of majesty darts his 
 rays on one who is unworthy of so much favor, &c. 
 In this sense it must be considered as wholly ironical. 
 Or he may wish to have it thought that by clouds hanging 
 
8 hamlet. Act I. 
 
 on him, he had understood the king as obliquely hinting to 
 him, that by continuing to indulge his sorrows, he must 
 necessarily be hid from the view of the people, by 
 whom he was greatly beloved ; — and that he was so, we 
 learn by a subsequent passage : 
 
 " He's lov'd of the distracted multitude, &c." 
 Hamlet was well persuaded that his uncle had become 
 distrustful, or fearful of the influence which he might 
 have with the multitude ; and he therefore (if the latter 
 interpretation be admitted) would willingly keep alive the 
 anxieties of him whom he suspected to be the murderer 
 of his father — and hence his reply — " Not so, my Lord, 
 I am too much i' the sunj" i. e. i( quite the contrary : I 
 am too prominent an object : lam too much seen." — That 
 is, and as he would indirectly express it, — too much seen 
 by the Danes ,for you to be at ease, for you to be in per- 
 fect peace. B. 
 
 Ham. Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not 
 seems. 
 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
 Nor windy suspiration of fore'd breath, 
 No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
 Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, 
 Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, 
 That can denote me truly. 
 
 " 'Tis not my inky cloak alone, good mother," &c. The 
 quarto 1 6 1 1, roads : " 'Tis not my inky cloak could smother :" 
 [for good mother.'] Had there been but one copy, how could 
 this strange error have been rectified, but by the boldness of 
 conjecture? Ma lone. 
 
 The reading of the quarto 1611, and which Mr. Ma- 
 lone has called a " stiange error," I would, with a change 
 
Scene ii. hamlet. 9 
 
 in the punctuation, restore to our author, to whom it un- 
 doubtedly belongs. The present expression 'good Mo- 
 ther/ is weak, while the rejected one ' could smother/ is 
 pointed and strong. To give the necessary correctness to 
 the passage, we have only to remove the word 'that' from 
 the concluding hemistich, and insert it in the second line, 
 substituting e'er in its place. Read : 
 
 " Seems, madam, nay it is, I know not stems : 
 
 It is : — Not that my inky cloak could smother. 
 
 Nor customary suits, &c. 
 
 * * • * 
 
 Can e'er denote me truly." 
 The repetition of it is gives force to the sentiment ; 
 which, as I have already hinted, is greatly heightened by 
 the words — * Not that my inky cloak could smother.' It 
 should be observed that in the speech of Hamlet there is not 
 only ajustitication of himself, but an indirect censure of his 
 mother. He says, my grief is not seeming : it is. It is 
 not affected ; it is not thaf which might be, and in fact 
 often is real joy, — hid, concealed by an inky cloak : a 
 cloak indeed that may not only be worn to conceal joy, but 
 which is by the common observer supposed to denote sor- 
 row. ' Nor customary' &c. is not spoken as being imme- 
 diately connected with the foregoing lines ; or as marking 
 a regular train of thought. There is a full stop at ' smo- 
 ther.' He then particularizes the ' shows of grief.' — ' Nei- 
 ther customary suits,' &c. — < Nor windy,' &c. can ever 
 denote me truly. The' words ' good mother,' (not again 
 to insist on their nothingness,) are absolutely redundant, as 
 ' Madam ' occurs in the preceding line. They are 
 thrown in merely to eke out the verse : the original read- 
 ing not being understood by the Editors. B. 
 
 King. But to persever 
 In obstinate condolemenl, is a course 
 
10 hamlet. Act I, 
 
 Of impious stubbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief : 
 It shows a will most incorrect to heaven. 
 
 — a will most incorrect — ]. Incorrect for vntuior'd. 
 Warburton. 
 
 "A will most incorrect — " Untutored, as set down 
 by Warburton, will give by no means the full, the particu- 
 lar sense of incorrect. ' A will most incorrect to Heaven,' 
 is a criminal kind of will : a will opposed to the will 
 of Heaven. B. 
 
 King. For, let the world take note, 
 You are the most immediate to our throne ; 
 And, with no less nobility of love 
 Than that which dearest father bears his son, 
 Do I impart toward you. 
 
 And with no less nobility of love.} Nobility for magnitude. 
 
 W.4R BURTON. 
 
 Nobility is rather generosity. Johnson. 
 "Nobility of love" may mean, true and virtuous 
 love. B. 
 
 Ham. So loving to my mother, 
 That he might not let e'en the winds of heaven 
 Visit her face too roughly. 
 
 In former editions 
 
 That he permitted not the winds of heaxen. 
 This is a sophistical reading, copied from the players in 
 some of the modern editions, for want of understanding the 
 poet, whose text is corrupt in the old impressions: all of 
 which that I have had the. fortune to see, concur in reading 
 Ho loving to my mother, 
 That he might not beteene the winds of heaven 
 Visit htr face too roughly-. 
 Beteene is a corruption without doubt, but not so inveterate 
 a one, but that, by the change of a single letter, and the 
 separation of two words mistakenly jumbled together, I am 
 verily persuaded, 1 have retrieved the poet's reading— That 
 
Scene ii. hamlet. 11 
 
 he might not let e'en the "winds of heaven, Sec. Theobald. 
 
 So, in the Enterlude of the Lijje and Rcpcntauncc uj Maris 
 Mugdalaine, fyc. by Lewis Wager, 156*7 • 
 
 " But evermore they were unto me very tender, 
 " They would not suffer ihe xvi/nde on me to bloWe." 
 
 Steevexs. 
 So again, in Marston's Insatiate Countess, 1603 : 
 
 " she had a lord, 
 
 " Jealous that the air should ravish her chaste looks." 
 
 Malone. 
 
 Mr. Theobald observes, that " beteeue" is undoubtedly 
 
 a corruption, and Mr. Steevens appears to be of the 
 
 same opinion, by admitting the poor expletive reading " let 
 
 e'en" to a place in the text, — but they are both mistaken. To 
 
 " beteen " is to enrage, to anger. We must read the 
 
 passage thus : . 
 
 " so loving to my mother, 
 
 " That the betecned winds of heaven might not 
 
 " Visit her face too roughly." 
 
 I. e. Such was his love of my mother, that he would not 
 
 permit the angry winds of heaven, at any time, to blow 
 
 upon her. B. 
 
 Ham. Would I had met my dearest foe in 
 heaven, 
 Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio ! 
 
 Dearest for direst, most dreadful, most dangerous. John- 
 son. 
 
 Dearest is most immediate, consequential, important. So, in 
 Romeo and Juliet : 
 
 " a ring that I must use 
 
 " In dear employment." 
 Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid in the Mill: 
 •• \ ou meet your dearest enemy in love, 
 m With all his hate about him." Steevexs. 
 
 " Dearest foe." Dearest should be derest to distinguish 
 
 it from kindest, most beloved, the common acceptation of 
 
 the word in the text. Dere is used by Spenser for hurt' 
 
 ful, pernicious. Jt is here direst — most cruel. B. 
 
12 HAMLET. Act I. 
 
 Hor. A figure like your father, 
 Arm'd at all points, exactly, cap-a-pe, 
 Appears before them, and, with solemn march, 
 Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk'd 
 By their opprest and fear -surprised eyes, 
 Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, Jistill'd 
 Almost to jelly with the act of fear, 
 Stand dumb and speak not to hiiti. 
 
 ' with the act of fear.] Shakspeare could never write 
 
 so improperly as to call the passion of fear,, the act of fear. 
 Without doubt the true reading is, 
 
 with XV effect of fear. Warburtox. 
 
 Here is an affectation of subtil ty without accuracy. Fear 
 is every 'day considered as an agent. Fear laid hold on him ; 
 fear drove him away. If it were proper to be rigorous in ex- 
 amining trifles, it might be replied, that Shakspeare would 
 write more erroneously, if he wrote by the direction of this 
 critic ; they were not distilled, whatever the word may mean, 
 by the effect of fear ; for that distillation was itself the effect ; 
 fear was the cause, the active cause that distilled them by 
 that force of operation which we strictly call act in voluntary, 
 and power in involuntary agents, but popularly call act in 
 both. But of this too much. Johnson. 
 
 The folio reads — bestiYA. Steevens. 
 
 « With the act of fear." ' Distilled by the act of fear,' 
 is harsh. As to the (< affectation of subtilty" it may be 
 retorted on Johnson, \vith a very good grace. We are 
 not to understand, by Warburton's change in the text, that 
 they were distilled, by the effect of fear, but that fear 
 had so great a power: the effect of fear was such, as to 
 distil them. The fact, however, is, and without employ- 
 ing either sneer or disingenuousness, that the emendation 
 proposed by the learned prelate amounts to nothing. • He 
 has inadvertently made a distinction without a difference ; 
 since, with either reading, the sense will be the same ; and 
 fear must be as much an agent in one as in the other. 
 But after all, the commentators appear to have mistaken 
 
Scene ii. hamlet. 13 
 
 the construction of the passage : I would receive the be- 
 
 stiWd of the folio : Alter 'jelly ' to gelee (fr.) and read 
 
 and point the whole as under : 
 
 ■ thrice he walk'd 
 
 By llu'ir opprost find fear-surprised eyes, 
 Within his truncheon's length : whilst they bestill'd 
 Almost to gelee with the act: Of fear 
 - Stand dumb and speak not to him. 
 
 ' Bestill'd almost to gelee,' i. e. fixed almost as if the 
 blood was frozen in their veins, or, in other words, as 
 if petrified, l with the act,' with the manner, the proceed- 
 ing of the Ghost : and ? of fear,' ' in fear, or through, or 
 from fear, they stood mute.' It should be noted that the 
 expression ' fear-surprised eyes,' means awe-struck : seized 
 with reverential fear, and riot simply terror, affright, 
 as in this latter instance. B. 
 
 Laer. He may not, as unvalued persons do, 
 Carve for himself; for on his choice depends 
 The safety and the health of the whole state ; 
 And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd 
 Unto the voice and yielding of that body, 
 Whereof he is the head. 
 
 " He may not, as unvalued persons do, > 
 " Carve for himself." 
 
 ' Carve for himself is a coarse, if not an unmeaning 
 expression. We may easily read, and even with some de- 
 gree of elegance and force, ' crave,' i. e. sue for himself. 
 B. 
 
 ■Laer. Then weigh what loss your honor may- 
 sustain, 
 If with too credent ear you list his songs ; 
 Or lose your heart ; or your chaste treasure open 
 
14r HAMLET. Ad I. 
 
 To his unmaster'd importunity. 
 
 — vnmaster'd — ] i.e. licentious. Johnson. 
 
 " To his unmaster'd importunity." ' Unmastered * 
 goes not so far, — it rather means not to be checked; not 
 to be controlled. . B. 
 
 Pol. The friends thou hast, and their adoption 
 tried, 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; 
 But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatch/d unfledg'd comrade. 
 
 " The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried." I 
 
 read a adaption, adaptation tried, " i. e. their suitableness, 
 
 their fitness to be made your friends being proved, then, 
 
 &c. B. 
 
 But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatch' d, unfledg'd comrade. 
 The literal sense is, " Do not make thy palm callous by sha- 
 king every man by the hand." The figurative meaning may 
 be, " Do not by promiscuous conversation make thy mind in- 
 sensible to the difference of characters." Johnson. 
 
 " Do not dull thy palm," is, I think, Do not sully thy 
 
 honor, or the honor of thy house, by associating with 
 
 thy inferiors, or with people who are little known to thee. 
 
 A similar expression is found in Troilus and Cressida. 
 
 No, this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord, 
 
 Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired. 
 
 Pol. Give every man thine ear, but few thy 
 voice : 
 Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg- 
 ment. 
 Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
 But not express'd in fancy ; rich not gaudy : 
 
Scene hi. hamlet. 15 
 
 For the apparel oft proclaims the man ; 
 
 And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
 
 Are most select, and generous chief, in that. 
 
 each mefn's censure.} Censure is opinion. See vol. vii. 
 
 p. 69. Steevens. 
 
 Are most select and generous, chief in that.'] I think the 
 whole design of the precept shows we should read, 
 " Are most select, and generous chief, in that." 
 
 Chief is an adjective used advcrbialli/, a practice common to 
 our author. Chiefly generous. Yet it must be owned that 
 the punctuation recommended is very stiff and harsh. 
 Steevens. 
 
 Here has been a silent deviation in all the modern editions 
 from the old copies, which all read, 
 
 " Arc of a most select and generous chef in that." 
 
 May we suppose that Shakspearc borrowed the word chef 
 from heraldry, with which he seems to have been very conver- 
 sant ? " They in France approve themselves to be of a most 
 select and generous escutcheon by their dress." Chef in 
 heraldry is the upper third part of the shield. — This is very 
 harsh ; yet 1 hardly think that the words "of a" could have 
 been introduced without some authority from the MS. 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 The genuine meaning of the passage requires us to point the 
 line thus : 
 
 Arc most select and generous, chief in that. 
 i.e. the nobility of France are select and generous above all 
 other nations, and chiefly in the point of apparel ; the richness 
 and elegance of their dress. Remarks. 
 
 " Are most select and generous, chief in that." There 
 is an awkwardness in the expression select and generous 
 as applied to the ' apparel,' of they, in France/ which may 
 be done away by transposition*. The following arrange- 
 ment will give that coherence to the discourse, which it 
 manifestly wants at present. 
 
 "Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 
 Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment 
 And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
 Are most select and generous: Chief in that. 
 Costly thy habit &cc." 
 
16 hamlet. Act I. 
 
 " Lend thine ear to all : yet be not hasty in determining 
 on any matter. Take counsel, yet reserve to thyself an 
 opinion in all things : — in doing which you will follow the 
 example of the most considerable among the French, and 
 who, from being of a refined and generous disposition, do 
 so conduct themselves : particulars, iudeed, in which they 
 chiefly have a pride." B. 
 
 Pol. This above all, — to thine ownself be true ; 
 And it must follow, as the night the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to airy man. 
 
 And it must follow, as the night the day.] The sense here 
 requires, that the similitude should give an image not of two 
 effects of (liferent natures, that follow one another alternately, 
 but of a cause and effect, where the effect follows the cause by 
 a physical necessity. . For the assertion is, Be true to thyself, 
 and then thou must necessarily be true to others. Truth to 
 himself then was the cause, truth to others the effect. To il- 
 lustrate this necessity, the speaker employs a similitude: but 
 no similitude can illustrate it, but what presents an image of a 
 cause and effect : and such a cause as that, where the effect 
 follows by a physical, not a moral necessity, for if only, by a 
 moral necessity, the thing illustrating would not be more cer- 
 tain than the thing illustrated ; which would be a great absur- 
 dity. '1 his being premised, let us see what the text says, 
 
 And it must follow, as the night the day. 
 In this we are so far from being presented with an effect fol- 
 lowing a cause by a physical necessity, that there is no cause 
 at all : but only two different effects, proceeding from two 
 different causes, and succeeding one another alternately. 
 Shakspeare, therefore, without question wrote, 
 
 And it must follow, as the light the day. 
 As much as to say, Truth to thyself, and truth to others, are 
 inseparable, the latter depending necessarily on the former as 
 light depends upon the day ; where it is to be observed, that 
 day is used figuratively for the sun. The ignorance of which, 
 1 suppose, contributed to mislead the editors. . Warburton. 
 
 And it must follow, as the night the day. 
 This note is very acute, but the common succession of night 
 to day was, I believe, all that our author meant to make Polo- 
 nius think of, on the present occasion. 
 
SCENE III. HAMLET. 17 
 
 So, in the 145th Sonnet of Shakspeare ■ 
 " That follow'd it as gentle day 
 " Doth follow night, tyc. Steevens. 
 
 " And it must follow, as the night the day." Dr. War- 
 burton's note, a3 we are informed by Mr. Steevens, is 
 u very acute," but this acufeness no other than himself, I 
 believe, will be able to discover. That there can be no 
 effect without a cause the slenderest philosopher must be 
 able to show. The reasoning of the learned prelate, as 
 far as it relates to cause and effect, is certainly just ; but 
 as it attaches to our author's expression — " And it must 
 follow" &c. is erroneous ; for night and day are there to 
 be considered as two different effects, and nature [natura 
 naturans] is to be held as the cause. And be it remem- 
 bered that in such a mode of speech as ' And it must 
 follow,' that a cause, though not set down, is always to be 
 understood. But to explain this farther. The poet does 
 not tell us that night follows day, as an effect must follow 
 a cause. The construction is, 'and it must follow, as the 
 night, the day,' i. e. it will as certainly be the consequence : as 
 certain as that night and day are consequent on the opera- 
 tions of nature. It should here be observed, that he il- 
 lustrates his position respecting a moral power, and its 
 eventuality by a physical comparison : by instancing ob- 
 jects which are familiar to the perception of all men, and 
 which are known of necessity to ' follow,' i. e. come as a 
 consequence, and which, it is also known, will continue to 
 come, so long as the system of the universe shall remain. 
 Yet let it not be forgotten that neither night nor day is at 
 any • time to be taken as a cause. Both, I repeat, are 
 effects, resulting from one great operative will. — The good 
 Bishop has unfortunately fallen into a double error : 
 first, as I have said, in censuring the expression in the 
 text, and again in the reading which he has proposed ; for 
 it will indubitably be acknowledged by every one that 
 
 SHAK. I. B 
 
18 HAMLET. - ACT I. 
 
 light no more proceeds from day than night does. The 
 fact is, that light and day are absolutely one and the same, 
 as we learn from the book, but which the commentator 
 for once appeals to have forgotten. " And God said let 
 there be light : and there was light." — " And God called 
 the light day." 
 
 The quotation made by Mr. S. from the sonnet will no 
 \vay illustrate the present passage. The Poet there 
 males mention of two effects succeeding each other reci- 
 procally ; and certainly according to the order of nature. 
 But as no " great first cause is pointed out by the cited 
 verse, it will, 1 maintain, elucidate nothing here. Besides, 
 as I have before remarked on the lines of the play, it is 
 not of night follozcing day that Polonius is supposed to 
 speak. B. 
 
 Pol. Affection r puh ! you speak like a green girl, 
 Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. 
 Do you believe his tenders, as you call them ? 
 
 Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.] Unsifted, for un- 
 tried. Untried signifies either not ttmpted, or not refined; 
 unsifted, signifies the latter only, though the sense requires 
 the former. Waebuk.ton. 
 
 " Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.'* Unsifted 
 is here not only without force, but almost without mean- 
 ing. I would read ' Unsighted,' not in the sense in which 
 it is used by Suckling and others, of invisible, but in that 
 of not seeing into, ignorant of. This is at once easy and 
 expressive. B. 
 
 Pol. From this time, 
 Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence ; 
 Set your entreatments at a higher rate. 
 Than a command to parley. 
 
SCENE III. HAMLET. 19 
 
 Set your entrcatments] Entrcatments here mean company, 
 conversation, from the French entretien. Johnson. 
 
 The meaning rather is, Do not show an inclination to 
 listen to him on every slight entreaty. Folonius had said 
 immediately before — " Be somewhat scanter of your mai- 
 den presence." B. 
 
 Pol. In few, Ophelia, 
 Do not believe his vows : for they are brokers ; 
 Not of that dye which their investments show, 
 Mere implorators of unholy suits, 
 Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, 
 The better to beguile. This is for all, — 
 I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, 
 Have you so slander any moment's leisure, 
 As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet. 
 
 Breathing tike sanctified and pious bonds.] On which the 
 editor Mr. Theobald remarks, Though all the editors have 
 swallowed this reading implicitly, it is certainly corrupt ; and 
 I have been surprised how men of genius and learning could 
 let it pass without some suspicion. What idea can we frame to 
 ourselves of a breathing bond, or of its being sanctified and 
 pious, &c. ? But he was too hasty in framing ideas before he 
 understood those already framed by the poet, and expressed in 
 very plain words. Do not believe (says Polonius to his daugh- 
 ter) Hamlet's amorous vows made to you ; which pretend re- 
 ligion in them (the better to beguile) like those sanctified and 
 pious vows [or bonds] made to heaven. And why should not 
 this pass without suspicion ? W arburton. 
 
 Theobald for bonds substitutes bawds. Johnson. 
 The old reading is certainly right. We have in our author's 
 142d Sonnet: 
 
 " false bonds of love." Malone. 
 
 " I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, 
 " Have you so slander any moment's leisure." 
 The humour of this is line. The speaker's character is all 
 affectation. At last he says he will speak plain, and yet can- 
 not for his life; his plain speech of slandering a moment's 
 leisure being of the like fustian stuff with the rest. War- 
 burton. 
 
20 HAMLLT. ACT I 
 
 Here is another Jint passage, of which I take the beauty to 
 be only imaginary- Polonius says, in plain terms, that is, not 
 in language less elevated or embellished than before, but in 
 terms that cannot be rnisunderstood : I would not liaxt yov so 
 disgrace your most idle moments, as not to find better employ- 
 ment for them titan lord Hamlet's conversation. Johnson. 
 
 " Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds." ' Bonds.' 
 This reading is harsh, and certainly wrong ; but Theo- 
 bald's * Bawds ' are detestable. The right word is un- 
 doubtedly bans i. e. curses : and when the reasoning which 
 goes immediately before is attended to, it will be round 
 so. — " Not such as their investments show" — " Mere 
 implorators of unholy suits " — alluding to the pious curses 
 of Romish Priests ; for had the poet spoken of sancti- 
 fied and pious vows he would not have likened them to 
 unholy suits : nor would he have talked of their not 
 being such as their ' investment ' (i. e. their character) 
 seems to proclaim. The whole is meant to insinuate, 
 that curses and denunciations (in which curses — prayers 
 or vows were artfully included) were highly criminal. In 
 a word, that Hamlet's vows were merely intended to be- 
 guile : and might be considered, in fact, as pious curses, 
 which with a fair and specious seeming were infamous, be- 
 cause they prayed for that vengeance on the guilty, which 
 the Almighty might inflict at pleasure. He therefore 
 calls them unholy suils. 
 
 " I vyould not, in plain terms, from this time forth, 
 " Have you so slander any moment's leisure." 
 The sneer of Johnson, as touching the penetration and 
 taste of Warburton, is insufferable. I will maintain, 
 however, that he who does not accord with the Prelate 
 in his remark, is totally wanting in both. B. 
 
 Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes 
 his rouse. 
 
SCENE IV. HAMLET. fil 
 
 — take his rouse.] A rouse is a large dose of liquor, a de- 
 bauch. So, in Othello : 
 
 " — they have given me a rouse already." 
 It should seem from the following passage in Decker's Guh 
 Hornbook, loop, that the word rouse was of Danish extrac- 
 tion. " Teach me, thou soveraigne skinker, how to take the 
 German's upsy freeze, the Danish rousa, the Swiucr's stoop 
 of rhenish, &c." Steevexs. 
 
 " Rouse." Rouse should be written 'rouse (contrac- 
 tion) i. e. carouse or carousal. Gertrude in the last act 
 says : " The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet." B. 
 
 Ham. That these men, — 
 Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect ; 
 Being nature's livery, or fortune's star. — 
 
 — fortune's scar.] All the quartos read star. Steevexs. 
 
 The word star in the text signifies a scar of that appearance. 
 It is a term of farriery : the white star or mark so common 
 on the forehead of a dark coloured horse is usually produced 
 by making a scar on the place. Remarks. 
 
 " Being nature's livery or fortune's star." A slight 
 correction seems necessary here ; for what can be particu- 
 larly understood of "nature's livery f" The right word, 
 I suppose, will be levity. As to ' fortune's star ' it must 
 be taken according to the idea entertained by the vulgar, 
 respecting judicial Astrology. B. 
 
 Ham. The dram of base 
 Doth all the noble substance of worth out, 
 To his own scandal. 
 
 The dram of ease 
 Doth all the noble substance of a doubt, 
 To his ozin scandal. 
 I do not remember a passage throughout all our poet s 
 works, more intricate and depraved in the text, of less mean- 
 ing to outward appearance, or more likely to baffle the at- 
 tempts of criticism in its aid. It is certain, there is neitl.i . 
 sense nor grammar as it now stands : yet with a slight altera- 
 
22 HAMLET. ACT I 
 
 tion, I'll endeavour to euro those defects, and give a sentiment 
 too, that shall make the poet's thought close nobly. The 
 dram of base (as I have corrected the text) means the least 
 alloy of baseness or vice. It is very frequent with our poet to 
 use the adjective of quality instead of t lie substantive signify- 
 ing the thing. Besides, I have observed, t h : 1 1 elsewhere, speak- 
 ing of north, he delights to consider it as a quality that adds 
 weight to a person, and connects the word with that idea. 
 Theobald. 
 
 Doth all the noble substance of worth out.] Various conjec- 
 tures ha\e been employed about this passage. The author of 
 The Revisal would read, 
 
 " Doth all the noble substance ojt eat o7tt." 
 
 ° r > 
 
 " Doth all the noble substance soil with doubt." 
 
 Mr. Holt reads, 
 
 " Doth all the noble substance oft adopt." 
 
 And Dr. Johnson thinks, that Theobald's reading may stand. 
 
 I would read, 
 
 Doth all the noble substance (i. e. the sum of good qualities) 
 
 oft do out. Perhaps we should say, To its own scandal. His 
 
 and its are perpetually confounded in the old copies. 
 
 As I understand the passage, there is little difficulty in it. 
 
 This is one of the low colloquial phrases which at present are 
 
 neither employed in writing, nor perhaps are reconcileable to 
 
 the propriety of language. To do a thing out, is to extinguish 
 
 it, or to efface or obliterate any thing painted or written. 
 
 In the first of these significations it is used by Drayton, in 
 
 the fifth Canto of his Barons' Wars: 
 
 " Was ta'en in battle, and his eyes out-done." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 If with Mr. Stocvens we understand the words doth out to 
 
 mean effaceth, the following lines in The First Part of 
 
 Henry IV. may perhaps prove the best comment on this 
 
 passage : 
 
 " Oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
 
 " Defect of manners, .want of government, 
 
 " Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain ; 
 
 " The least of which, haunting a nobleman, 
 
 " Loscth mens* hearts, and leaves behind a stain 
 
 " Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
 
 " Beguiling them of commendation." 
 
 There is no necessity for supposing an error in the copies. 
 
 His is frequently used by our author and his contemporaries 
 
 for its. So, in Grim, the Collier of Croydon : 
 
 " Contented life, that gives the heart his ease " 
 
 I would, however, wish to read: 
 
SCENE IV. . HAMLET. 23 
 
 " By his own scandal." JMalonb. 
 Perhaps it should be, 
 
 " the dram of base 
 
 11 Do'h all the noble substance oft work out." 
 That is rat through as brass does silver when it is plated with 
 it. S. W. 
 
 " The dram of ease, &.c." The great business of a 
 commentator is to explain his author's text, and to alter 
 as little as possible. Theobald says, that there is not 
 a more depraved passage in Shakspeare titan the present, 
 and the several Editors, 1 find, are of the same opinion, 
 by assisting him in his bungling alteration. The addition 
 of a single letter, however, with a change in the order ot 
 the words, will render the original text correct. 1 read : 
 " The drame of ease, 
 " The noble substance of a doubt, — doth all 
 u To his own scandal." 
 ' Drame' is dream (sec Chaucer.) ' Ease ' is not rest 
 or quiet, but pleasure ; the word is frequently used in 
 that sense by early writers. ' The drame of ease ' will 
 therefore mean, the dream of' pleasure, and which he hap- 
 pily characterizes by ' the noble substance of a doubt,' i. e. 
 shadowy substance [appearance of substance only, not 
 the reality.] Pleasure (he would say) that dream, that 
 " something, nothing " — thereby pointing out its Meeting, 
 evanescent nature. The whole is meant to insinuate that 
 the man who indulges in licentious pleasures worketh his 
 own confusion, loses his good name ; in a word, is an 
 enemy to himself. This agrees with the reasoning in the 
 former part of the speech, and serves at the same time as 
 an illustration. B. 
 
 Ham. Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, 
 Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, 
 That I will speak to thee ; I'll call thee, Hamlet, 
 
24" HAMLET. ACT T. 
 
 King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me ! 
 
 Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell, 
 
 Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death*, 
 
 Have burst their ceannents ? why the sepulchre, 
 
 Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, 
 
 Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, 
 
 To cast thee up again ? What may this mean, — - 
 
 That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, . 
 
 Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
 
 Making nioht hideous ; and we fools of nature 
 
 So horribly to shake our disposition, 
 
 With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? 
 
 Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? 
 
 — questionable shape.] By questionable is meant provo- 
 king question. Hanmer. 
 
 So, in Macbeth ; 
 
 " Live you, or are you aught 
 
 " That man may question'?"' Johnson. 
 
 Questionable, I believe, means only propitious to conversa- 
 tion, easy and Willing to be conversed with. So, in As you 
 like it. " An unquestionable spirit, which you hate not." 
 Unquestionable in this last instance certainly signifies unwilling 
 to be talked with. Steevens. 
 
 Questionable, I believe, only means capable of being con- 
 versed with. To question certainly in our author's time sig- 
 nified to converse. See vol. ii. p. 60. vol. iii. p. 228. 361. 
 vol. iv. p. 320. vol. viii. p. 173. Malone. 
 
 " questionable shape." 1 think " unquestionable 
 
 shape " would be much more forcible, much more in 
 point. The meaning of the whole would then stand 
 thus : " / know not what your intents may be : but the 
 figure or shape you bear is well known to me — I will 
 therefore speak to you, which otherwise I might not have 
 courage to do." This agrees with what he had said be- 
 fore ; " My Father's spirit in arms ! " 13. 
 
SCENE IV. HAMLET. 25 
 
 « tell 
 
 Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, 
 Hare burst their cearments ? 
 Hamlet here speaks with wonder, that lie who was dead should 
 rise again and walk. But this, according to the vulgar super- 
 stition here followed, was no wonder. Their only wonder was, 
 that one, who had the rites of Sepulture performed to him, 
 should walk, the want of which was supposed to be the reason 
 of walking ghosts. Hamlet's wonder then should have been 
 placed here : and so Shakspeare placed it, as we shall see 
 presently. For hearsed is used figuratively, to signify reposit- 
 ed, therefore the place where should be designed : but death 
 being no place, but a privation only, hearsed in death is non- 
 sense. We should read, 
 
 tell, 
 
 " Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in earth, 
 
 " Have burst their cearmejits ? " 
 It appears, for the two reasons given above, that earth is the 
 true reading. It will further appear for these two other rea- 
 sons. First, From the words, canoniz'd bones ; by which is 
 not meant (as one would imagine) a compliment for, made 
 holy, or sainted ; but for bones to which the rites of sepulture 
 have been performed ; or which were buried according to 
 the canon. For we are told he was murdered with all his 
 «ins fresh upon him, and therefore in no way to be sainted. 
 But if this licentious use of the word canoniz'd be allowed, 
 then earth must be the true reading, for inhuming bodies was 
 one of the essential parts of sepulchral rites. Secondly, 
 From the words, Have burst their cearments, which imply the 
 preceding mention of inhuming, but no mention is made of it 
 in the common reading. This enabled the Oxford editor to 
 improve upon the emendation ; so he reads, 
 
 " Why thy bones hears'd in canonized earth." 
 I suppose for the sake of harmony, not of sense. For 
 though the rites of sepulture performed canonizes the body 
 bitrii d ; yet it does not canonize the earth in which it is laid, 
 unless every funeral service be a new consecration. War- 
 burton. 
 
 It were too long to "examine this note period by period, 
 though almost every period seems to me to contain something 
 reprehensible. The critic, in his zeal for change, writes with 
 so little consideration, as to say, that Hamlet cannot call his 
 father canonized, because zee art told he teas murdered with 
 all his sins fresh upon him. He was not then told it, and had 
 so little the power of knowing it, that he was to be told it by an 
 irition. The long succession of reasons upon reasons 
 proves nothing, but what every reader discovers, that the king 
 
20 HAMLET. ACT I. 
 
 had been buried, which is implied by so many adjuncts of 
 burial, that the direct mention of earth is not necessary* 
 Hamlet, amazed at an apparition, which, though in all ages 
 credited, has in all ages been considered as the most wonderful 
 and most dreadful operation of supernatural agency, enquires 
 of the spectre, in the most emphatic terms, why he breaks the 
 order of nature, by returning from the dead : this he asks in a 
 very confused circumlocution, confounding in his fright the 
 soul and body. Why, says he, have thy bonis., which with 
 due ceremonies have been entombed in death, in the common 
 state of departed mortals, bunt the folds in which they were 
 embalmed? Why has the tomb, in which we saw thee quietly 
 laid, opened his mouth, that month which, by its weight and 
 stability, seemed closed for ever? the whole sentence is this : 
 Why dost thou appear, whom we know to be dead? 
 
 Had the change of the word removed any obscurity, or 
 added any beauty, it might have been worth a struggle ; but 
 cither reading leaves the sense the same. 
 
 If there be any asperity in this controversial note, it must 
 be imputed to the contagion of peevishness, or some resent- 
 ment of the incivility shown to the Oxford editor, who is 
 represented as supposing the ground canonized by a funeral, 
 when he only meant to say, that the body was deposited in 
 holy ground, in ground consecrated according to the canon. 
 Johnson. 
 
 " Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, 
 
 " Have burst their cearments ? " . 
 Warburton's objection with respect to " hearsed in 
 death," is not to be controverted. But still the word 
 u earth," is, I think, unnecessarily and indeed mistakenly 
 introduced. This proceeds, however, from considering 
 " hearsed," as the proper word, but which, I am firmly 
 persuaded should be hcried, i. e. honored. I make some 
 little change in the order of the words, and read : 
 " but tell, why 
 
 te Heried and canoniz'd in death, thy bones 
 
 " Have burst their cearments ? " 
 i.e. " Why is it, honored as thou wert in life, and in thy 
 death having suitable exequies, all the holy rites of sepul- 
 ture being performed to thee — Why then have thy bones 
 
SCENE IV. HAMLET. 27 
 
 thus burst from their cearments ?" 8cc. It is remarked by 
 Johnson that with either reading " hearsed in death," 
 or in " earth " the sense will be the same : true ; but 
 as the sense is imperfect in both, alteration should surely 
 be made. B. 
 
 That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel.] It is pro- 
 bable that Shakspeare introduced bis ghost in armour, that it, 
 might appear more solemn by such a discrimination from the 
 other characters ; though it was really the custom of the 
 Danish kings to be buried in that manner. Vide Olaus fl'onnius, 
 cap. 7- 
 
 " Struem regi nee vcslibus, nee ndoribus cumulant, sua 
 cuique anna, quorundam igni et equus adjicitur." 
 
 " sed postquam magnanimus ille Danorum rex collem 
 
 sibi magnitudinfs conspicua? extruxisset, cui post obitum 
 regio diademate exornatu'm, armis indutum, inferendum esset 
 cadaver," &c. Sieevens. 
 
 " Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon." 
 
 Wrong pointed. There should be a full stop at thus. 
 
 i. c. " What can it mean that thou thus comest ? — Why 
 
 thus to affright us, when, even the glimpses of the moon 
 
 render night hideous?" This is, no doubt, the sense : — to 
 
 revisit the glimpses of (he moon, is, if not altogether 
 
 without meaning, a very feeble expression. B. 
 
 — us fools of nature.] The expression is fine, as intimating 
 we were only kept fas formerly, fools in a great family) to 
 make sport for nature, who lay hid only to mock and laugh 
 at us, for our vain searches into her mysteries. Warburton. 
 
 — to shake our disposition.] Disposition, for frame. War- 
 burton. 
 
 " And we fools of nature," 
 
 " So horribly to shake our disposition, &c." 
 
 The learned commentator, with his prismatic glass, has 
 
 spread such " gaudy colors " over the " face of nature," that 
 
 we do not readily recognize her. " Fools of nature/' 
 
 however, means nothing more than fools by nature, i. e 
 
 weak and trembling mortals. B. 
 
28 HAMLET. ACT I. 
 
 Ham. Haste me to know it : that I, with wings 
 as swift 
 As meditation, or the thoughts of love, 
 May sweep to my revenge. 
 
 As meditation, or the thoughts of lore.] This similitude is 
 extremely beautiful. The word meditation is consecrated, by 
 the mystics , to signify that stretch and flight of mind which 
 aspires to the enjoyment of the supreme good. So that Hamlet, 
 considering with what to compare the swiftness of his revenue, 
 chooses two of the most rapid things in nature, the ardencv of 
 divine and human passion, in an enthusiast, and a lover. W,\k- 
 BURTON. 
 
 The comment on the word meditation is so ingenious, that 1 
 hope it is just. Johnson. 
 
 ' As meditation or the thoughts of love.' Dr. Warbur- 
 ton's remark on ' meditation as being expressive of holy 
 love in the mystics, of their sublimities, their heavenly 
 aspirations, is known to be just. This, 1 say, is right, but 
 his application of the word in the present instance is evi- 
 dently wrong. That meditation involves in it the sense of 
 ardency is certain; but so far is it from including that of 
 swiftness, that the idea presented by it is precisely the 
 reverse: the Philologer, indeed, has always described it by 
 " study opposed to action" Another thing to be consi- 
 dered is, that the Religionist, in his wish, has not necessa- 
 rily expedition as an object : all he would tell you that he 
 aims at is, ultimately to be blest. Now this his desire we 
 must remember couid only be obtained by meditation and 
 prayer, by a long and patient endurance of the ills of life. 
 Ey this it is seen that as meditation has no other meaning 
 than that of duelling on, or revolving in the mind, it cannot 
 possibly have been employed by the poet here. The 
 proper word will no doubt be mediation : which word, as 
 it signifies intreating or interceding, in any one's behalf, 
 must be interpreted by friendship. Thus we perceive, 
 that the comparison is at once beautiful and true. " As 
 
SCENE V. HAMLET. 29 
 
 swift as love and friendship," — and which, when real, are 
 the n ablest and eagerest affections of the soul. B. 
 
 Ghost. I find thee apt ; 
 And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed 
 That rots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf, 
 Wouldst thou not stir in this ? 
 
 And duller shouhht thou be than the fat zvced 
 That roots itself in case on Lethe's wharf, fyc. 
 Shakspeare, apparently through ignorance, makes Roman 
 Catholics of these Pagan Danes; and here gives a description 
 of purgatory ; but yet mixes it with the Pagan fable of Lethe's 
 wharf. Whether he did it to insinuate to the zealous Pro- 
 testants of his time, that the Pagan and Popish purgatory 
 stood both upon the same footing of credibility, or whether it 
 was by the same kind of licentious inadvertence that Michael 
 Angelo brought Charon's bark into his picture of the Last 
 Judgment, is not easy to decide. Warburton. 
 
 That rots itself, &c] The quarto reads — That roots itself. 
 Mr. Pope follows it. Otway has the same thought : 
 
 " like a coarse and useless- dunghill weed 
 
 " Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow." 
 
 The superiority of the reading of the folio is to me apparent: 
 to be in a crescent state (i. e. to root itself J affords an idea of 
 activity ; to rot better suits with the dulness and inaction to 
 which the Ghost refers. Nevertheless, the accusative case 
 (itself J may seem to demand the verb roots. Steevens. 
 
 ' That rots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf.' By a slight 
 
 transposition the reading of the quarto, and which is much 
 
 the best, may be preserved. 
 
 1 That roots on Lethe's wharf: itself in ease,-"- 
 
 ' Would'stthou not stir in this ?' — B. 
 
 Ghost. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's 
 hand, 
 Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd. 
 
 at once dispatch'd :] Dispatch'd for bereft. War- 
 burton. 
 
 — 'at once dispatch'd' — Dispatch'd can scarcely be 
 
30 HAMLET. ACT II. 
 
 right. Yet the proper word is not very easily found. 
 Perhaps we may read dismal did in the sense of disunited. 
 Words of privation were by the earlier writers formed by 
 taking the particle dis at pleasure ; but which at the pre- 
 sent day are not in use. Thus dis-cased with our author. 
 Dis-zcare and dis-ruly, Chaucer, dis-luined, Spenser, 
 &c. B. 
 
 Ham. There's ne'er a villain, duelling in all 
 Denmark, 
 But he's an arrant knave. 
 
 " There's? ne'er a villain — 
 " But he's an arrant knave." 
 
 I would rather read — ' Bate he's an arrant knave.' The 
 
 conceit appears to be this — The villain is not a villain if 
 
 jou once admit that he is not an arrant knave. A banter on 
 
 the Schools. B. 
 
 Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, 
 Lord Hamlet, — with his doublet all unbrae'd ; 
 No hat upon his head ; his stockings foul'd, 
 Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle. 
 
 — his stockings foul'd, 
 Ungarter'd and down-gywd to his ancle. 
 I have restored the reading of the elder quartos — bis stock- 
 ings loose. — The change, I suspect, was first from the players, 
 who Saw a contradiction in his stockings being loose, and yet 
 shackled down at ancle. But they, in their ignorance, blun- 
 dered away our author's word, because they did not under- 
 stand it : 
 
 Ungarter'd and down-gyred. 
 i. e. turned down. So, the oldest copies ; and, so his stockings 
 were properly loose, as they were vngarter'd and rowl'd down 
 to the ancle. Theoitai d. 
 
 Theobald is unfaithful in his account of this elder quarto. 
 I have all the quartos and the folios before me, and they concur 
 in reading: 
 
 " his stockings fovVd. 
 
SCENE It. HAMLET. 31 
 
 I believe gyred to be nothing more than a fftlse print. Down- 
 gyved means hanging down like the 1 <» e cincture which con- 
 fines the fetters round the ancles. Gyre always signifies a 
 circle formed by a top, or any other body when put into 
 motion. 
 
 It is so used by Drayton in the Black Prince's letter to Alice 
 countess of Salisbury. 
 
 " In little circlets first it doth arise, 
 <l '1 hen somewhat larger seemeth in mine eyes; 
 " And in this gyring compass as it goi s, 
 " So more ami more my love in greatness grows." 
 Again, in the Second Par. of [ley wood's Iron Age, ldJ2 : 
 — " this bright and flaming brand 
 '* Which I so often gyre about mine ears." 
 Again, in Lingua, &c. lb'OZ '. 
 
 " First I beheld him hovering in the air, 
 " Ami then down stooping with a hundred gircs, &c." 
 Again, in Barten llolyday's Poem, called the Woes of Esay: 
 " His chariot wheels wrapt in the whirlwind's gyre, 
 " His horses hoof'd with flint, and shod with fire.'* 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 — ' down-gyved* cannot be rights because gyves are 
 fetters, shackles : the word lias no other meaning. Theo- 
 bald's reading is to be preferred, both us to gyred and 
 loose. 
 
 Giar in Chaucer is a twist } a fold. B. 
 
 Pol. That hath made him mad. 
 I am sorry, that with better heed, and judgment, 
 I had not quoted him. 
 
 / had not quoted him. — The old quarto reads coted. ft 
 appears Shakspcare wrote noted. Quoted is nonsense. War- 
 
 BURTON. 
 
 To quote is, I believe, to reckon, to take an account of, to 
 take the quotient or result of a computation. Joiinsov. 
 
 Since 1 proposed a former explanation, 1 met with a passage 
 in the Isle of Gulls, a comedy, by John Day, l633, which 
 proves Dr. Johnson's sense of the word to be not far from the 
 true one : 
 
 — " 'twill be a scene of mirth 
 " For me to quote his passions, and his smiles." 
 
 To quote on this occasion undoubtedly means to obserxe. 
 Again in Drayton's Mooncalf: 
 
32 HAMLET. ACT II 
 
 " This honest man the prophecy that noted, 
 " And things therein most curiously had quoted; 
 " Found all these signs, &e." 
 Again, in The Woman Hater, by Beaumont and Fletcher, the 
 intelligencer says, — '* I'll quote him to a tittle." i. e. 1 will 
 observe him. Steevexs. 
 
 ' I had not quoted him.' Coted is right, it means 
 
 marked, observed, {Cote, French.) B. 
 
 Queen. If it will please you 
 To show us so much gentry, and good will, 
 As to expend your time with us a while. 
 
 To shew vs so much gentry — ] Gentry, for complaisance. 
 
 Wareurton. 
 
 ' To shew us so much gentry/ We should print Gen- 
 
 terie as in Chaucer, to distinguish it from the body or class 
 
 of people called Gentry. B. 
 
 Guil. But we both obey ; 
 And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, 
 To lay our service freely at your feet, 
 To be commanded. 
 
 — in the full bent,] Bent, for endeavour, application. War- 
 burton. 
 
 The full bent is the utmost extremity of exertion. The allu- 
 sion is to a bow bent as far as it will go. So afterwards in this 
 play : 
 
 " They fool me to top of my bent." Ma lone. 
 
 ' Full bent' is fully, perfectly inclined thereto. See 
 
 Spenser, Milton, &c. B. 
 
 Pol. To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the 
 most beautified Ophelia — 
 That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; beautify d 
 Is a vile phrase. 
 
 To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified 
 Ophelia — ] Heywood, in his History of Edward VI, says 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 33 
 
 " Kathtrine Parrc, queen dowager to king Henry VIII, was a 
 woman beautified with many excellent virtues." Farmer. 
 
 * Most beautified Ophelia.' It is not Shakspeare who 
 
 calls the phrase, (or rather term) vile — but Polonius. B. 
 
 Pol. No, I went round to work, 
 And my young mistress thus I did bespeak ; 
 Lord Hamlet is a prince: — out of thy sphere ; 
 This must not be : and then I precepts gave her, 
 That she should lock herself from his resort, 
 Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. 
 
 Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy sphere,] All princes were 
 alike out of her sphere. I give it thus : 
 
 Lord Hamlet is a prince : — out of thy sphere. 
 Two of the quartos, and the first folio, read star. Steev. 
 
 ' Out of thy sphere.' Out of thy star is most like the 
 
 language of Shakspeare. The meaning is — u beyond 
 
 what you can look or aspire to." He has ' fortune's star,' 
 
 in a former scene. B. 
 
 — precepts gave her.] Thus the folio. The two elder 
 quartos read, prescripts. Steev. 
 
 " Prescripts" is right — signifying inhibition, restraint. 
 
 That it is the true reading the context will fully show. 
 
 Polonius says, that he had already observed to his daughter, 
 
 •* Lord Hamlet is a prince: out of thy sphere — 
 ■* This miibt not be!" 
 
 Now this we may consider as a precept, or hint, to Ophelia 
 
 how she should behave. He then goes on. 
 
 " And then I prescripts (or orders) gave her, 
 
 " That she should lock herself from his resort, &c." B. 
 
 Ham. For if the sun breeds maggots in a dead 
 dog, 
 Being a god, kissing carrion, — Have you a daugh- 
 ter? 
 
 SHAK. I. C 
 
34 HAMLET. ACT II. 
 
 For if the sun breed maggot* in a dead dog, 
 
 Being a good, kissing carrion 
 
 Have you a daughter ?] 'I he editors seeing Hamlet counter- 
 feit madness, thought they might safely put any nonsense into 
 his month. But this strange passage, when set right, will be seen 
 to contain as great and sublime a reflection as any the poet 
 puts into his hero's mouth throughout the whole play. We 
 will first give the true reading, which is this: 
 
 For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, 
 
 Being a god, kissing carrion 
 
 As to the sense we may observe, that the illative particle [for] 
 'shews the speaker to be reasoning from something he had said 
 before : what that was we learn in these words, to be honest, as 
 this Uoorld goes, is to be one picked out of ten thousand. 
 Having said this, the chain of ideas led him to renVct upon the 
 argument which libertines bring against Providence from the 
 circumstance of abounding evil. In the next speech therefore 
 he endeavours to answer that objection, and vindicate Provi- 
 dence, even on a supposition of the fact, that almost all men 
 were wicked. His argument in the two lines in question is to 
 this purpose, But why need we wonder at this abounding of evil? 
 For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, which though a 
 god, yet shedding its heat and injiuence upon carrioti— Here he 
 stops short, lest talking too consequentially the hearer should 
 suspect his madness to be feigned ; and so turns him off-from 
 the subject, by enquiring of his daughter. But the inference 
 which he intended to make, was a very noble one, and to this 
 purpose. If this (says he) be the case, that the effect follows 
 the thing operated upon [carrion] and not the thing operating 
 [a god,~] why need we wonder, that the supreme cause of all 
 things diffusing its blessings on mankind, who is, as it were, a 
 dead carrion, dead in original sin, man instead of a proper 
 return of duty, should breed only corruption and vices ? This 
 is the argument at length, and is as noble a one in behalf of 
 Providence as could come from the schools of divinity. But 
 this wonderful man had an art not only of acquainting the 
 audience with what his actors say, but with what they think. 
 The sentiment too is altogether in character, for Hamlet is per- 
 petually moralizing; and his circumstances make this reflection 
 very natural. Warb. 
 
 This is a noble emendation, which almost sets the critic on a 
 level with the author. John. 
 
 Being a go<t, kiting carrion,] Our author, I imagine, wrote — 
 " bung a gud-kissing carrion," — i. e. a carrion that kisses the 
 sun. So in this play : 
 
 '• New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill." 
 Again, in the Rape ofLucrece : 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 35 
 
 " Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy." 
 I do not believe that Shakspeare had an) 7 of the profoihid 
 meaning in this passage, that Dr. Warburton has ascribed to 
 him. Mal. 
 
 ' For if the sun, &c.' Mr. Malone's * god-kissing Car- 
 rion' entirely destroys the meaning. The conception of 
 the Poet is here wonderfully grand : there is divinity in 
 it — while the exposition of the Commentator (W.) in which 
 the anagogical sense, as it may be called, is considered, is 
 truly philosophical and just : — an exposition, indeed, which 
 sets him high above his competitors in the critic art. B. 
 
 Pol. How pregnant sometimes his replies are ! 
 a happiness that often madness hits on, which rea- 
 son and sanity could not so prosperously be deliv- 
 ered of. 
 
 How pregnant, &c] Pregnant is ready, dexterous, apt. 
 
 Steev. 
 
 " Pregnant" is something more than dexterous, or apt. 
 
 It here means, full of consequence. B. 
 
 Ros. We coted them on the way ; and hither 
 are they coming to offer you service. 
 
 We coted them on the way, — ~] To cote is to overtake. I 
 meet with this word in The Return from Parnassus, a comedy, 
 1602. 
 
 " — marry we presently coted and outstript them." Steev. 
 
 ' We coted them on the way/ To Cote can never mean 
 to overtake, ' we coted them on the way,' — " we observed, 
 we saw them on the road." B. 
 
 Ham. The humorous man shall end his part in 
 peace : the clown shall make those laugh whose 
 lungs are tickled o' the sere. 
 
 — shall end his part in peace .-] After these words the folio 
 adds, the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled 
 9 th' sere. Ware. 
 
36 HAMLET. ACT II. 
 
 The clown shall make those laugh ichose lungs are tickled o' 
 th y sere, i. e. those who are asthmatical, and to whom laughter 
 is most uneasy. This is the case (as 1 am told) with those 
 whose lungs are tickled bythe.se/-eor serum: but about this 
 passage I am neither very confident, nor very solicitous. Stekv.. 
 
 ' The Clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are 
 tickled o' the sere.' Sere means not serum, but dry, 
 withered. The meaning of the passage is — " The Clown 
 shall make those laugh, who are old, and not much disposed 
 to it ; whose lungs indeed are almost worn out." He shall 
 tickle, even these. We must read, 'the Clown shall make 
 those laugh, tickled, — whose lungs are i' the sere.' 
 
 ' Seare' in the ancient dialogue has the sense of burning. 
 The meaning is obvious, 1 believe : — at any rate it must 
 not be explained here. B. 
 
 Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. 
 Ham. Buz, buz ! 
 
 Buz, buz! — Mere idle talk, the buz of the vulgar. John. 
 
 When Hamlet says " buz, buz!" he cannot mean by it 
 mere idle talk, because he had already been informed by 
 Guildernstern that the players were actually arrived. I 
 understand the expression thus : The Prince is vexed at 
 the officious intrusion of Polonius into his presence, and 
 exclaims, " buz, buz ! now shall I be tormented with your 
 chattering." Polonius mistaking Hamlet, and thinking 
 that he doubts the truth of his news, replies — " upon mine 
 honour," &c. B. 
 
 Ham. You are welcome, masters; welcome, 
 all : — I am glad to see thee well : — welcome, good 
 friends. — O, oid friend ! Why, thy face is valanc'd 
 since I saw thee last. 
 
 — ralanc'd.] V aland d means o\erhung with a canopy or 
 tester like a bed. The folios read valiant which seems right. 
 The comedian was probably "bearded like a pard." 
 
 Remarks. 
 
SCENE ir. HAMLET. 37 
 
 " Why, thy face is valanccd.' A face cannot welt be 
 5aid to be valiant : or if it be observed, that by the expres- 
 sion we are to understand a courageous look, we must yet 
 ask why the flayer should be no represented? — balanced 
 is unquestionably the right word, though the meaning has 
 been mistaken by the Editors. Valance is value, worth. 
 Chaucer uses it in that sense. Hamlet would say to the 
 player — " You are become of some value since I saw you : 
 you are grown into reputation." 
 
 V aluance (old i\\) value. B. 
 
 Ham. 'Twas caviare to the general : but it 
 was (as I receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments, 
 in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an ex- 
 cellent play. 
 
 — cried in the top of mine — ] i. e. whose judgment I had- the 
 highest opinion of. Warb. 
 
 1 think it means only that were higher than mine. John. 
 
 Whose judgment, in such matters, was in much higher vogue 
 than mine. Revisal. 
 
 Perhaps it means only — whose judgment was more clamor- 
 ously delivered than mine. We still say of a bawling actor, 
 that he speaks on the top of his voice. StbEV. 
 
 — " Cried in the top of mine." — Either explication may 
 do, except that of Mr. Steevens, which is totally repug- 
 nant to the tenor of the speech. B. 
 
 Ham. I remember, one said, there were no sal- 
 lets in the lines, to make the matter savoury; nor 
 no matter in the phrase, that might indite the 
 author of affection. 
 
 — there "was no sailors, &c] Such is the reading of the old 
 copies, I know not why the later editors continued to adopt 
 the alteration of Mr. Pope, and read, wo salt, &c. Steev. 
 
 " No sallets in the lines" is nonsense ; and no salt in 
 
 ihe lines is not right. The poet has here, as is very com- 
 
58 HAMLET. ACT II. 
 
 nion with him, adopted a French word, viz. saletes, i. e. 
 
 smut, or smuttiness. Dire des saletes, is, to talk lewdly. 
 
 Saletes having been at first printed without the accent, was 
 
 read saletes, and thence arose the mistake. B. 
 
 — indite the author of affection :] i. e. convict the author of 
 being a fantastical affected writer. See vol. ii. p. 492. vol. iv. 
 p. 207. Steey. 
 
 " Affection" is not, in this place, I believe, affected or 
 
 fantastical. " No matter in the phrase that might indite 
 
 the author of affection," seems to mean, that he was a cold, 
 
 uninteresting writer, that he did not speak from the 
 
 heart. B. 
 
 1 Play. But who, ah woe ! had seen the mobled 
 queen — 
 
 — the mobled queen-*—] Mobled or mabled signifies veiled. 
 So Sandys, speaking of the Turkish women, says, their heads 
 and faces are mabled in fine linen, that no more is to be seen of 
 them than their eyes. Travels. Warb. 
 
 Mobled signifies huddled, grossly covered. John. 
 
 The folio reads — the inobled queen; and in all probability 
 it is the true reading. This pompous but unmeaning epithet 
 might be introduced merely to make her Phrygian majesty 
 appear more ridiculous in the following lines, where she is 
 represented as wearing a clout on her head ; or, innoblcd queen 
 may however signify the queen unnobled, i. e. divested of her 
 former dignities. Mr. Upton would read mob-led queen ; 
 Magna eomitante caterva. Steev. 
 
 in the latter end of the reign of King Charles II. the rabble 
 that attended the Earl of Shaftesbury's partizans was first cal- 
 led mobile vv/gus, and afterwards, by contraction, the mob ; and 
 ever since the word mob has become proper English. Conse- 
 quently Mr. Upton's supposition must fall to the ground. Tol. 
 
 ' the mobled Queen.' The commentators are all 
 
 on a wrong scent. I am persuaded that Shakspeare has 
 
 here coined a word from mobilis Lat. without knowing the 
 
 particular meaning of the Latin term. By mobiled queen, 
 
 —he means the moved, agitated, queen, as the context will 
 
 clearly show. B. 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 39 
 
 1 Play. Run bare-foot up and down, threatening 
 the flames 
 With bis son rheum ; 
 
 With bisson rheum ; — ] bisson or bctsen, i. e* blind. A 
 word still in use in some parts of the north of England. 
 
 So in Curiolanus : "What harm can your bisson conspee- 
 tuities glean out of this character?" Steev. 
 
 But the printed word bisson or bessen is no doubt re- 
 ceived in the sense of blind. What can be understood of 
 ' blind rheum threat'ning the flames ?' The Poet no doubt 
 wrote " besien rheum." Besien is found in early writers and 
 signifies trouble, uneasiness, grief. The meaning of the- 
 passage is — That the queen ran about seeming as though 
 she would extinguish the flames with her tears : the tears 
 which were occasioned by her extraordinary grief. In 
 Coriolanus, bisson certainly means, as the commentators 
 have set down, blind : or 1 should rather say dim, or dull. 
 1 Bisson' conspectuities — " dull in apprehension^ 
 
 Ham. Yet I, 
 A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
 Like John-a-dreams, 
 
 Like John-a-dreams, — ] John-a-dreams, i. e. of dreams, 
 means only John the dreamer ; as nick-name, I suppose, for 
 any ignorant silly fellow. Thus the puppet formerly thrown 
 at during the season of lent was called Juck-a-lent, and the 
 ignis fatuus, Jack-a-lanthorn. John-a-droynes however, if not 
 a corruption of this nick-name, seems to have been some well 
 known character, as I have met with more than one allusion 
 to him. So, in Have with you to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel 
 Harvey's Hunt is up, by Nashe, 155)6: "The description of 
 that poor John-a-droynes his man, whom he had hired, &c." 
 John-a-droynes is likewise a foolish character in Whetstone's 
 Promos and Cassandra, 1 3/8, who is seized by informers, has 
 not much to say in his defence, and is cheated out of his mo- 
 ney. Steev. 
 
 "John-a-droynes" — Droi/ne is in all probability drone, 
 
 i. e. dull, slothful, sluggish. Dreams is apparently wrong. 
 
 B, 
 
40 i HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, 
 Most free in his reply. 
 
 Niggard ofqiusfion : but of our demands, 
 
 Most free in his reply.] This is given as the description of 
 the conversation of a man whom the speaker found not for- 
 ward to be sounded ; and who kept aloof when they would 
 bring him to confession : but such a description can never pass 
 but at cross-purposes. Shakspeare certainly wrote it just the 
 other way : 
 
 - Most free of. question ; but oj our de?nands, 
 Niggard in his reply. 
 
 That this is the true reading, we. need but turn back to the 
 preceding scene, for Hamlet's conduct, to be satisfied. Warb. 
 
 " Niggard, &c." This evidently should be — " free of 
 
 question." The change must therefore be made as proposed 
 
 by Warburton. B. 
 
 Ham. Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And, by opposing, end them ?- 
 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles.] Without ques- 
 tion Shakspeare wrote, 
 
 against assail of troubles, 
 
 i.e. assault. Warb. 
 
 Mr. Pope proposed siege. I know not why there should be 
 so much solicitude about this metaphor. Shakspeare breaks 
 his metaphors oiten, and in this desultory speech there was 
 less need of preserving them. John. 
 
 r l he change which Mr. Pope would recommend, may be 
 justified from a passage in Romeo and Juliet, scene the last : 
 
 " You — to remove thatsifge of grief from her — " Steev. 
 
 The same metaphor is used by Marston, in the Second Part 
 of Antonio and Mellida, l602 : 
 "Whom fretful galls of chance, stern fortune's siege." Mal. 
 
 Shakspeare resembles ^Eschylus in the sudden breaks of 
 his metaphors. To take up arms against a sea of troubles, is 
 in the manner of our author. Were we to admit siege for 
 sea, we might improve the picture ; but we should endanger 
 the likeness. Io says, in the Prometheus vinctus of /Eschylus, 
 v. 88.5. 
 
 " My confused words strike at random against a sea of trou- 
 bles, or the waves of misery ;" by which she nutans, ■ I talk 
 
 confusedly in my misfortunes. S. W. 
 
 " Or to take arms against a sea of troubles." " A sea 
 
 of troubles" is assuredly wrong. L therefore read — 
 
SCENE I. HAMLET. 41 
 
 " Or to take arms against the assay of troubles." 
 <( Assay" is attack, it is used in that sense by Spenser : 
 and our author has it in a preceding scene of the play, 
 " assay of arms." • In the reading thus proposed, it will 
 be seen that there is a perfect uniformity of thought, a 
 perfect integrity of expression ; "taking up arms to repel 
 an attack;" while in " taking up arms to repel a sea," the. 
 want of that integrity is apparent ; nay the sentiment is even 
 absurd.. Assay, and a sea, would be easily confounded, when 
 sound only was perhaps attended to by the transcriber. 
 I must here take occasion to observe that much has been 
 said respecting the mixed metaphors, the heterogeneous 
 linages, which the pages of Shakespeare, as it is said, 
 continually offer to our view. I find, however, on a close 
 examination of the text, that this charge of incongruity is 
 unfounded, and that it has arisen chief!)' from the ignorance 
 and inattention of the earlier editors, who have brought in 
 so many and foul corruptions, that the Temple of Nature 
 has nearly become an Augean stable. This 1 maintain to 
 be the case, for when these sordities are swept away, a 
 scene of magnificence is at once presented to us : beauti- 
 ful though devoid of art. B. 
 
 Ham. When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
 — mortal coil J i. e. turmoil, bustle, Warb. 
 
 " When we have shuffled off this mortal coil," i. e. 
 When we have shaken off the shackles, which at present 
 bind or hold us. 
 
 Coil is used in allusion to the coiling or strengthening of 
 a rope by winding it in the form of a ring, whence coil is 
 fetter. 13. 
 
 Ham. For who would bear the whips and scorns 
 of time, 
 
42 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 — the whips and scorns of time,] The evils here complained 
 of are not the product of time or duration simply, but of a 
 corrupted age or manners. We may be sure, then, that Shak- 
 speare wrote: 
 
 — the whips and scorns of th' time. 
 And the description of the evils of a corrupt age, which follows, 
 confirms this emendation. Ware. 
 
 I doubt whether the corruption of this passage is not more 
 than the editor has suspected. Whips and scorns have no great 
 connection with one another, or with time: whips and scorns 
 are evils of very different magnitude, and though at all times 
 scorn may be endured, yet the times that put men ordinarily 
 in danger of whips are very rare. Falstaff has said, that the 
 courtiers would whip him with their fine wits ; but I know not 
 that whip can be used for a scoff or insult, unless its meaning 
 be fixed by the whole expression. 
 
 I am afraid lest L should venture too far in correcting this 
 passage. If whips be retained, we may read, 
 
 For who would bear the whips and scorns of tyrants. 
 But I think that quip, a sneer, a sarcasm, a contemptuous jest, 
 is the proper word, as suiting very exactly with scorn. What 
 then must be done with time? it suits no better with the new 
 reading than with the old, and tyrant is an image too bulky 
 and serious. 1 read, but not confidently : 
 
 For who would bear the quips and scorns of title. 
 It may be remarked, that Hamlet, in his enumeration of mise- 
 ries, forgets, whether properly or not, that he is a prince, and 
 mentions many evils to which inferior stations only are ex- 
 posed. John. . 
 
 Quips, the word which Dr. Johnson would introduce, is de- 
 . rived, by all etymologists, from whips. 
 
 Hamlet is introduced as reasoning on a question of general 
 concernment. He therefore takes in all such evils as could 
 befall mankind in general, without considering himself at pre- 
 sent as a piince, or wishing to avail himself of the few exemp- • 
 tions which high place might once have claimed. Steev, 
 
 " For who would bear the whips and scorns of time." 
 
 This reading I cannot by any means admit, and must of 
 
 course be unsatisfied with the explications, which here are 
 
 given of it. A clearer sense will be found in, 
 
 '^For who would bear the scores of weapon'd time." 
 
 " Scores" in the sense of stripes, hurts, bodily injuries. 
 
 f Weapon'd time." " Time always armed ; who is ever 
 
 assailing and doing us mischief." 
 
SCENE I. HAMLET. 43 
 
 Scores and scorns might be easily confounded either by 
 transcriber or punter; while tceapon'd aud whip and are 
 so much alike in sound that in reading aloud the ear might 
 be deceived in regard to them, as we find of many expres- 
 sions of the poet, when well considering his works. 
 
 I formerly thought that we might read, 
 ° Scores of whiphand time." 
 " Scores" will then signify charges against, imputations. 
 The sense of the passage this — " Time who always has the 
 whiphand, the advantage : who, while we are endeavouring 
 to seize on and engage him for our particular purposes, is 
 still too nimble for us : Time, likewise, who is ever pre- 
 ferring some charge, who is ever laboring an impeach- 
 ment of our character." This agrees with the slanderous 
 quality of Time, as represented in Troilus and Cressida. 
 " Beauty, wit, high birth, desert in service, 
 " Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 
 " To envious and calumniating Time." 
 
 I readily acknowledge that the proposed reading "whip 
 hand" is neither easy uor elegant. Yet the epithet has in 
 it something that may be called forcible : while it will be 
 thought, perhaps, to have much of the manner of Shak- 
 speare. 
 
 These emendations were made, as already hinted, at 
 different times ; he, therefore, who disapproves of the text, 
 will make choice of that which appears to be best. B. 
 
 Ham. When he himself might his quietus make 
 With a hare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 
 To groan and sweat under a weary life; 
 But that the dread of something after death, — 
 The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
 No traveller returns — puzzles the will ; 
 
44 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
 Than fly to others that we know not of; 
 
 might his quietus make 
 
 With a bare bud/tin ? — j The first expression probably 
 alluded to the writ of discharge, which was formerly granted to 
 those barons and knights who personally attended the king on 
 any foreign expedition. This discharge was culled a quietus. 
 
 It is at this time the term for the acquittance which every 
 sheriff receives on settling his accounts at the exchequer. 
 
 The word is used for the discharge of an accuunt, by Web- 
 ster, in his Dutchess of Malfy, l623 : 
 
 " You had the trick in audit time to be sick 
 " Till I had signed your quietus." 
 Again, 
 
 " And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt 
 " (Being now my steward) here upon your lips 
 " I sign your Quietus?' 
 A bodkin was the ancient term for a small dagger. 
 So, in the Second part of the Mirrour of Knighthood, 4to. bl. 
 
 1. 1598: " Not having any more weapons but a poor 
 
 poynado, which usually he did weare about him, and taking 
 it in his hand, delivered these speeches unto it : Thou silly 
 bodkin shalt finish the piece of worke, &c." 
 
 In the margin of Stowe's Chronicle, edit. l6l4, it is said, 
 that Casar was slain with bodkins ; and in The Musts' Looking- 
 glass, by Randolph, lo"38 : 
 
 " Apho. A rapier's but a bodkin. 
 " Deil. And a bodkin 
 
 ** Is a most dang'rous weapon : since I read 
 " Of Julius Caesar's death 1 durst not venture 
 " Into a taylor's shop for fear of bodkins." 
 Again in The Custom of the Country, by Beaumont and Fletcher : 
 
 " ■ Out with your bodkin, 
 
 " Your pocket dagger, your stilletto.'' — 
 Again, in Sapho and Phao, 1591 : — " there will be a despe- 
 rate fray between two, made at all weapons, from the brown bill 
 to the bodkin." 
 
 Again in in Chaucer, as he is quoted at the end of a pamphlet 
 called the Serpent of Division, <Scc. whereunto is annexed the 
 Tragedy of'Gorboduc, &c. 1591 : 
 
 " With bodkins was Caesar Julius 
 
 " Murder'd at Rome, of Brutus Crassus." Stiev. 
 
 — ' Might his quietus make,' — How is it possible that 
 
 quietus should in this place have any allusion to the dis- 
 
 c /targe of an account. ' Make his quietus' is — kill himself. 
 
 Quietus is one of the names of Pluto. B. 
 
SCENE III. HAMLET. 45 
 
 To groan and sxoea/—] All the old copies have, to grunt 
 and sweat. It is undoubtedly the true reading, but can scarce- 
 ly be borne by modern ears. John. 
 
 The Change made by the editors, is however supported by 
 the following lines in Julius Cccsar, act iv. sc. i. : 
 
 " To groan and sweat under the businesse." 
 
 This word occurs in the Death of Zoroas, by Nicholas 
 Grimoald, a fragment in blank verse, printed at the end of 
 Lord Surry's poems : 
 
 " none the charge could give : 
 
 " Here grunts ; here grones ; ech where strong youth is 
 spent." 
 
 And Stanyhurst in his translation of Virgil, 158*2, forsuprc- 
 mura congemuit gives us: " — for' sighing it grunts." Steev. 
 
 That undiscover'd country from -whose bourn 
 
 No Traveller returns — ] Hamlet himself has just had ocular 
 demonstration that traTcllers do sometimes return from this 
 Strange country. Shakspeare, however, appears to have seldom 
 compared the different parts of his plays, and contented himself 
 with general truths. It would have been easy to have written— 
 Few travellers return. Mal. 
 
 ' No traveller returns.' The officiousness of the com- 
 mentators, in many instances, awakens something like in- 
 dignation in one's breast. Here is a passage which Mr. 
 Malone does not understand; and in consequence of this, 
 and without questioning his own fallibility, he sets about 
 making an awkward apology for the mistake of the Poet. 
 
 What ocular demonstration Jiad Hamlet, that the travel- 
 ler to the undiscover'd country (as Shakspeare chooses, 
 though not very correctly to express it) does at any time 
 return ? The critic we are to suppose would allude to the 
 ghost ? But I will venture to assert that the author would 
 never consider an apparition, a supernatural agent; that, 
 in short, which has no reality, as a traveller who was re- 
 turned from a distant place. Had this indeed been the 
 case, had such been really his notion, he would not have 
 written the lines in question, or in doing so he would have 
 fallen into a gross and extravagant error — an error by the 
 
46 % HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 way which the Annotator (as I have already hinted) has 
 assumed for him while in his kindnesshe has honored him 
 at once with reproof and excuse. But Shakspeare was not 
 a pseudo-philosopher, and his knowledge of nature, as it 
 was intuitive, so was his reasoning on her operations at all 
 times just and superlatively grand. When, therefore, he 
 uses the expression, ' no traveller returns/ it is with refer" 
 ence to bodily substance : he speaks of that traveller as of 
 one, who, if returning, must again assume not only an 
 earthly shape, but materiality, a formal existence : in a 
 word, that he should appear as before, and as a living man. 
 Thus we perceive that the charge of inadvertency, so has- 
 tily and confidently brought against this distinguished 
 writer, is wholly unfounded ; illusory as the shadow of the 
 Danish king. — And yet this very charge has been tamely 
 admitted : it has been looked on with a believing eye ; but 
 the dawn of reason will oblige it to fade. * Bourn' must 
 be changed to Borne, i. e. a Bourn is a river. B. 
 
 Ham. And enterprizes of great pith and mo- 
 ment, 
 
 —great pith] Thus the folio. The quartos read, of great 
 pitch. Steev. 
 
 Pitch seems to be the better reading. The allusion is to the 
 pitching or throwing the bar ; — a manly exercise, usual in 
 country villages. Remarks. 
 
 " Enterprises of great pith and moment," is, enterprises 
 
 of great matter and moment. Pith is unquestionably the 
 
 true reading. B. 
 
 Ham. You jig, you amble, and you lisp, and 
 nick-name God J s creatures, and make your wanton- 
 ness your ignorance ; 
 
 — make your wantonness your ignorance. You mistake by 
 •wanton affectation, and pretend to mistake by ignorance. 
 
 John. 
 
SCENE IT. HAMLET. 4? 
 
 " Make your wantonness your ignorance. " The mean- 
 ing is, when you are guilty of any improper behaviour you 
 would have it attributed to simplicity or ignorance, when 
 the fact is, that it is studied. B. 
 
 Ham Are capable of nothing but inexplicable 
 dumb shows, and noise. 
 
 inexplicable dumb shews,] I believe the meaning is, 
 
 shows, without zuords to explain them. John. 
 
 Rather, I believe, shows which are too confusedly conduct- 
 ed to ex plai« themselves. 
 
 " Inexplicable dumb shows." — Inexplicable shores, are 
 
 evidently such as are. out of nature; and to explain 
 
 them is therefore impossible. B. 
 
 Ham. For any thing so overdone is from the 
 purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first, 
 and now, was, and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror 
 up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, 
 scorn her own image, and the very age and body 
 of the time his form and pressure. 
 
 -age and body of the time,] The age of the time can 
 
 hardly pass. May we not read, the face and body, or did the 
 author write, the page? The page suits well with form and 
 presstire, but ill with body. John. 
 
 To exhibit the ybnra and pressure of the age of the time, is, 
 to represent the manners of the time suitable to the period 
 that is treated of, according as it may be ancient, or modern. 
 ■Steev. 
 
 " Age and body of the time." Johnson has rightly 
 
 objected to " age and body of time;" but the reading 
 
 proposed by him, 1 do not well understand. I would alter 
 
 the passage thus : " Show virtue her own feature ; and 
 
 the age, the very body of the time, &c." The meaning 
 
 is " show the times " [age,} as they really are. The 
 
 words " very body of the time," are in fact superfluous, 
 
 but used in order to impress the object on the attention : 
 
48 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 or that the speaker may be thoroughly understood.'' Such 
 redundance is frequent, not only in written language, but 
 in ordinary discourse. B. 
 
 Ham. O, there be players, that I have seen 
 play, — and heard others praise, and that highly, 
 — not to speak it profanely, that, neither having 
 the accent of christians, nor the gait of christian, 
 pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellow'd, 
 that I have thought some of nature's journeymen 
 had made men, and not made them well, the}' 
 imitated humanity so abominably. 
 
 — 0, there be players,'] I would read thus : " There be 
 players, that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and 
 that highly (not to speak profanely) that neither having the 
 accent nor the. gait of Christian, Pagan, nor Mussulman, have 
 so strutted and bellowed, that I thought some of nature's 
 journeymen had made the men, and not made them well," 
 &c. Farm. 
 
 I have no doubt that our author wrote — " that I thought 
 some of nature's journeymen had made thtm, and not made 
 them well, &c." Them and- men are frequently confounded 
 in the old copies. See the Comedy of Errors, act ii. sc. folio 
 l6"23 : — " because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, 
 and what he hath scanted them, [r. ?nen] in hair, he hath given 
 them in wit." In the present instance the compositor proba- 
 bly caught the word men from the last syllable of journey- 
 men. Shakspearc could pot mean to assert as a general truth, 
 that nature's journeymen had made men, i. e. all mankind : 
 for, if that were the case, the strutting players would have 
 been on a footing with the rest of the species. Mal. 
 
 " O, there be players, . &c." The objection raised 
 
 against nature's journeymen having made men, is weak, 
 
 and frivolous, since the words cannot be understood as 
 
 involving in them all mankind. Nothing more is meant 
 
 by the expression than that nature, like to every capital 
 
 artist, had her journeymen, and that the players, of 
 
 whom he speaks, were not the work of her hands, but of 
 
 the bunglers she had been led to employ : in a word, 
 
a t E II. HAMLET. 49 
 
 tli at these her journeymen were occasionally put on the 
 business of making men. There is no necessity what- 
 ever for Dr. Farmer's muxsnlman. ' Christian, Pagan, 
 nor man' — by " nor man," the poet means that they had 
 scarcely any thing human about them. The text is every 
 way right. 
 
 Ham. Be the players ready ? 
 Ros. Ay, my lord ; they stay upon your pa- 
 tience. 
 
 they stay upon your patience] May it not be road 
 
 more intelligibly, They stay upon your pleasure. In Macbeth 
 it is : 
 
 " Noble Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure." John. 
 
 '.' Stay upon your patience." This is not very clear. 
 I think we should read, stay upon your patents', i. e. 
 they remain at court in consequence of the grant, or per- 
 mission which you were pleased to give them. B. 
 
 Ham. O ! your only jig-maker. What should 
 a man do, but be merry ? 
 
 your only jig maker.] There may have been soim. 
 
 humor in this passage, the force of which is now diininibhed. 
 " many gentlemen 
 M Are not, as in the days of understanding, 
 " Now satisfied without a jig, which since 
 " They cannot, wjth their honor, call for after 
 " The play, they look to be serv'd up in the middle." 
 
 Changes, or Love in a Maze, by Shirley, l6*32. 
 In the Hog has lost his Pearl, 1614, one of the players 
 comes to solicit a gentleman to write a jig for him. A jig 
 was not in Shakspearc's time a dance, but a ludicrous dialogue 
 in metre, and of the lowest kind, like Hamlet's conversation 
 with Ophelia. Many of these jiggs are entered in the books 
 of the Stationers' company: " Philips his Jigg of the slyppers, 
 1.505. Kempe's Jigg ot the Kitehen-stuft woman, 1595." 
 Steev. 
 
 The following lines in the prologue to Fletcher's Love's 
 Pilgrimage confirm Mr. Steevens's remark : 
 " for approbation, 
 " A jig shall be clap'd at, and ev'ry rhume 
 
 Sha^k. I. D 
 
50 HAMLET- ACT HI. 
 
 " Prais'd and applauded by a clamorous cliime." 
 A jig was not always in the form of a dialogue. Many his- 
 torical ballads were formerly called jigs. Mal. 
 
 The author of The Remarks observes that a jig, though it 
 certainly signified a ludicrous dialogue in metre, yet it also 
 was used for a dance. In "the extract from Stephen Gosson 
 in the next pa^e, we have, 
 
 •tumbling, dancing of gigges." Ed. 
 An equivoque, I believe, is here intended. Hamlet 
 may mean either jig-maker, or gig-maker. Gigge, in 
 Chaucer, is an harlot, a strumpet. B. 
 
 Ham. Nay, then let the devil wear black, for 
 I'll have a suit of sables. 
 
 Nay, then let the devil near black, for I'll have a suit of 
 sables.] The conceit of these words is not taken. They are 
 an ironical apology for his mother's cheerful looks : two 
 months was long enough in conscience to make any dead hus- 
 band forgotten. But the editors, in their nonsensical blunder, 
 have made Hamlet say just the contrary. That the devil 
 end he would both go into mourning, though his mother did 
 not. The true reading is Nay, then let the devil wear black, 
 'fore I'll have a suit of sable. 'Fore, i. e. before. As much 
 as to say, Let the devil wear black for me, I'll have none. 
 The Oxford Editor despises an emendation so easy, and reads 
 it thus, Nay, then let the devil wear black, for I'll have a 
 suit of ermine. And you could expect no less, when such a 
 critic had the dressing of him. But the blunder was a 
 pleasant one. The senseless editors had wrote sables, the fur 
 so called, for sable, black. And the critic only changed this 
 fur for that ; by a like figure, the common people say, You 
 rejoice the cockles of my heart, for the muscles of my heart ; 
 an unlucky mistake of one shell-fish for another. Warb. 
 
 I know not why our editors should with such implacable 
 anger persecute their predecessors. 01 vsKgol wtj Sdnvouaiv, 
 the dead, it js true, can make no resistance, they may be at- 
 tacked with great security ; but since they can neither feel 
 nor mend, the safety of mauling them seems greater than the 
 pleasure; nor perhaps would it much misbeseem us to remem- 
 ber, amidst our triumphs over the nonsensical and the senseless, 
 that we likewise are men; that debemur morti, and as Swift 
 observed to Burnet, shall soon be among the dead ourselves. 
 
 I cannot find how the common reading is nonsense, nor 
 why Hamlet, when he laid aside his dress of mourning, in a 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 51 
 
 country whore it was bitter cold, and the air was flipping rind 
 eager, should not have a suit of sables. I suppose it is well 
 enough known, that the fur of sables is not black. John. 
 
 (i Nay then let the Devil wear black, for I'll have a 
 suit of sables." When .Johnson thus exclaims against 
 the " implacable anger," as he calls it, of certain editors, 
 he seems to forsake the cause in which be had engaged, 
 to throw up his brief: in a word, to abandon the poet of 
 nature, to the caprices of ignorance or tasteless temerity. 
 In charging the great and learned commentator with having 
 persecuted his fellows, one- might almost be led to ima- 
 gine, had not Johnson been a lexicographer, that he knew 
 not precisely the meaning of the expression. If by 
 using it, he would speak of an attack on the fame of 
 others, he is manifestly wrong : for it is not in literature 
 as in morals? In the latter case it is known that a man's 
 good name may often be filched from him with impunity 
 by bringing a censure against him in generals : and to do 
 this when he is deceased, when no longer able to defend 
 himself, is no doubt base and infamous in the highest 
 degree. But in the question of the former it is totally 
 different. The man who publishes his opinions lays 
 himself open to animadversion ; nay, he may even be said 
 to challenge attack. Thus the sentiments of either party 
 will be laid before the world, and on their respective 
 merits that world is left to decide : — the point is at issue, 
 and Shakspeare must be given up to the wanton exercise 
 of the injudicious corrector, or the corrector to him. The 
 determination, I believe, will be easily made. But a 
 succeeding Editor may by some, perhaps, be considered 
 as merely hypercritical. If so, the more then must it re- 
 dound to the honor of him whose idea in the matter has 
 been controverted. He has passed the ordeal, and nothing 
 more remains to be said or done. 
 
5 ( 2 HAMLLT. ACT II. 
 
 Thus much in respect of critics and criticism. But 
 now to our author's text. The present reading " Nay, 
 then let the devil wear, Sec." is faulty, since the wear- 
 ing of "sables" seems to follow as a consequence : not 
 that "for" is really used as an illative particle; but I 
 must insist that it might be easily mistaken for such : 
 and as for the ermine of Hanmer, it must not be admitted, 
 since it bears not the smallest resemblance to the word 
 which is found in every copy of the play. With regard 
 *j Warburton's alteration it, likewise, is certainly wrong, 
 for Hamlet, while dressed in his "inky coat," must not be 
 made to say " the Devil may wear black before I will." 
 The matter is, that the passage is slightly corrupted : 
 for " a suit " we must read " no suit," and consider 
 " sables," as it is very generally taken, not for the fur 
 of the master, but as a mourning dress. u Nay then let 
 the Devil wear black, for I'll have no suit of sables !" i. e. 
 no mourning suit. By which Hamlet would have it 
 thought for a moment that he means to throw off his then 
 attire, which denoted sorrow, and to join in the plea- 
 sures of the court. B. 
 
 P. Queen. The instances, that second marriage 
 move, 
 Are base respects of thrift, but none of love : 
 
 The instances."] The motives. John. 
 
 " The instances." We should rather explain " in- 
 stances " by circumstances. We cannot well say, the 
 motives that move. B. 
 
 Ham. Would not this, sir, and a forest of fea- 
 thers, with two Provencial roses on my raz'd shoes, 
 get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir ? 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 53 
 
 Provincial roses] Why provincial roses? Undoubtedly we 
 should read, Provincial, or (with the Trench c) Provencal. He 
 means roses of Provence, a beautiful species of rose, and for- 
 merly much cultivated. Warton. 
 
 with two provincial roses on my rayed shoes.'] When 
 
 shoestrings were worn, they were covered, where they met in 
 the middle, by a ribband, gathered in the form of a rose. So, 
 in an old song : 
 
 " Gil-de-Roy was a bonny boy, 
 " Had roses till I Ins shoon." 
 
 Rayed shoes, are shoes braided in lines. Jonx. 
 
 These roses are often mentioned by our ancient dramatic 
 writers. 
 
 So, in the Devil's Law-case, \623 : 
 
 '* With over-blown rosea to hide your gouty ancles." 
 
 Again, in the Roaring Girl, l6l 1 : " many handsome legs 
 
 in silk stockings have villanous splay feet, for all their great 
 rotes*' 
 
 The reading of the quartos is raz'd shoes ; that of the folio 
 rac'd shoes. Probably the poet wrote raised shoes, i. e. shoes 
 with high heels; such as, by adding to the stature, are sup- 
 posed to increase the dignity of the player. Steev. 
 
 u Provincial roses — raz'd shoes." The best reading (in 
 speaking of players) appears to be " raised shoes" as pro- 
 posed by Mr.Steevens. The raised shoe will be the buskin, 
 or cothurtms, of the ancient stage. B. 
 
 — a cry of players,] There is surely here no allusion to 
 hounds (as Dr. Warburton supposes) whatever the origin of the 
 term might have been. Cry means a troop or company in ge- 
 neral, and is so used in Coriolanus : 
 
 " You have made good work, 
 
 " You and your cry." 
 
 '* A cry of players." (i Cry" is contracted of Cryptic. 
 It is of precisely the same import as mysten/, and which 
 was formerly much used to signify a trade, a calling. 
 "Cry" is here a noun of number and applied to persons— 
 that is to persons of any particular profession or class, 
 and not to mankind in general. B. 
 
 I him. For thou dost know, O Damon dear, 
 This realm dismantled was 
 
54 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 Of Jove himself; and now reigns here 
 A very, very — peacock* 
 
 — Damon dear,] Hamlet calls Horatio by this name, in 
 allusion to the celebrated friendship between Damon and Py- 
 thias. A play on this subject was written by Rich. Edwards, 
 and published in 1582. Steev. 
 
 A very, very peacock.] This alludes to a fable of the " 
 
 birds choosing a king, instead of the eagle, a peacock. Pope. 
 
 The old copies have it paiock, paicocke, and pajocke. I sub- 
 stitute paddock, as nearest to the traces of the corrupted read- 
 ing. I have, as Mr. Pope says, been willing to substitute any 
 thing in the place of his peacock. He thinks a fable alluded 
 to, of the birds choosing a king ; instead of the eagle, a peacock. 
 I suppose, he must mean the fable of Barlandus, in which it 
 is said, the birds, being weary of their state of anarchy, moved 
 for the setting up of a king ; and the peacock was elected on 
 account of his gay feathers. But, with submission, in this 
 passage of our Shakspeare, there is not the least mention made 
 of the eagle in antithesis to the peacock ; and it must be by a 
 very uncommon figure, that Jove himself stands in the place of 
 his bird. I think, Hamlet is setting his father's and uncle's 
 characters in contrast to each other : and means to say, that 
 by his father's death the state was stripped of a godlike mo- 
 narch ; and that now in his stead reigned the must despicable 
 poisonous animal that could be ; a mere paddock, or toad. 
 PAD, liiifo, rubcta major ; a toad. This word, I take to be 
 of Hamlet's own substituting. The verses, repeated, seem to 
 be from some old ballad ; in which, rhyme being necessary, I 
 doubt not but the last verse ran thus : 
 
 A very, very ass. Tijeob. 
 
 A peacock seems proverbial for a fool. Thus Gascoigiie m 
 his (Feeds : 
 
 " A theefe, a cowarde, and a pcacocke foole." Farm. 
 I believe paddock to be the true reading. Jn the last scene 
 of this act, Hamlet, speaking of the king, uses the same expres- 
 sion : 
 
 " Would from a paddock, from a bat, or gib, 
 ." Such dear concernments hide ? " Mae. 
 
 I am persuaded that the poet wrote, " a "very, very, — 
 
 meacock," i. e. a cowardly, effeminate fellow. B. 
 
 Ham. Govern these ventages with your fingers 
 and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it 
 will discourse most eloquent music. 
 
SCENE III. HAMLET. 55 
 
 — ventages — ] The holes of a flute. John. 
 
 — and thumb, — ] The first quarto reads, with your fingers 
 and the u)nber. This may probably be the ancient name tor 
 that piece of moveable brass at the end of a flute which is 
 either raised or depressed by the finger. The word umber is 
 used by Stowe tin- chronicler, who, describing a single coinbat 
 between two knights, says, " he brast up his umber three 
 times." Here, the umber means the visor of the helmet. Stekv. 
 
 u Ventages — and thumb." 1 would read thus — " Go- 
 vern these ventages and the umbo with your fingers, and 
 give it breath with your mouth." Umbo (Lat.) a knob, a 
 button. 
 
 The piece of brass at the end of a flute might very well 
 be called a button. 13. 
 
 Ham. They fool me to the top of my bent. 
 
 They fool me to the top of my bent.] They compel me to play 
 the fool, till I can endure to do it no longer. John. 
 
 " They fool me," &c. " Fool me to the top of my 
 bent" must mean, humor, or fall in with all my inclina- 
 tions. 13. 
 
 Ham. Let me be cruel, not unnatural : 
 I Will speak daggers to her, but use none ; 
 
 / will speak daggers to her.] A similar expression occurs 
 in the Return from I'arnussus : "They are pestilent fellows, 
 they speak nothing but bodkins." It has been already observed, 
 that a bodkin anciently signified a short dagger. Steev. 
 
 " I will speak daggers to her." It should be observed 
 that in the Return from Parnassus a quibble is intended. 
 Bodkins (daggers) ; and bodekins, which word was com- 
 mon among the petti/ szcearers of Shakspeare's time, and 
 is used even now. B. 
 
 King. And he to England shall along with you : 
 The terms of our estate may not endure 
 Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow 
 Out "of his lanes. 
 
56 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 Out of his lunacies.] The old quartos read, 
 Out of his brows. 
 This was from the ignorance of the first editors ; as is this un- 
 necessary Alexandrine, which we owe to the players. The 
 poet, I am persuaded, wrote, 
 
 as doth hourly grow 
 
 Out of his lunes. 
 i. e. his madness, frenzy. Tiieob. 
 
 Lunacies is the reading of the" folio. 
 
 I take brawn to be, properly read, (rows, which, I think, is 
 a provincial word for perverse humors ; which being, I sup- 
 pose, not understood, was changed to lunacies. But of this I 
 am not confident. John. 
 
 I would receive Theobald's emendation, because Shakspeare 
 uses the word lunes in the same sense in The Merry Wives of 
 Windsor, and The Winter's Tale. From the redundancy of the 
 measure nothing can be inferred. 
 
 Perhaps, however, Shakspeare designed a metaphor from 
 horned cattle, whose powers of being dangerous increase with 
 the growth of their brows. Steev. 
 
 " Out of his lunacies." " Brows" may be used for head. 
 The meaning will be, the projects in which he is continually 
 engaged : and such, it may be remembered was the case 
 with Hamlet. As for Mr. S.'s metaphor from horned cattle, 
 it is — if any thing in the semblance of a pun may for once 
 be admitted — enough to drive a person horn mad. This 
 proverbial saying, and which has been supposed to have 
 originated with the cuckold's horns, is wholly derived from 
 the horns of the moon. It means, really, actually mad ; 
 furious, by reason of the planet's influence, and to distin- 
 guish it from the term mad, when merely applicable to 
 folly, or an extravagant humor. Horn mad, is evi- 
 dently the vulgar expression for lunatic ; for at the time 
 that the moon is crescent or horned, as the astronomer 
 calls it, the intellect, if any way unsound, will be affected 
 in a more particular degree than when she is in her 
 wane. B. 
 
 Ham. And so he goes to heaven : 
 And so am I reveng'd ? That would be scann'd : 
 
SCENE III. HAMLET. 57 
 
 A villain kills my father ; and, for that, 
 I, his sole son, do this same villain send 
 To heaven. 
 
 — That would be scann'd ;] i.e. that should be considered, 
 estimated. Steev. 
 
 I rather think it means — " This is a matter that rcould 
 be inquired into — and my conduct would perhaps be cen- 
 sured of all men.'' B. 
 
 /, his sole son, do this same villain send.] The folio reads 
 Joule son, a reading apparently corrupted from the quarto. 
 The meaning is plain. /, his only son, who am bound to pu- 
 nish his murderer. John. 
 
 " I, his sole sou," — " Joule son" is certainly the true 
 
 . reading. To Joule, in old language, is to offend, do 
 
 amiss. " I his greatly mistaken son, do, &c" This 
 
 agrees with the context : with the whole of Hamlet's 
 
 reasoning in* regard to his meditated revenge. " Sole" is 
 
 comparatively weak. B. 
 
 Ham. Then trip him, that his heels may kick at 
 heaven ; 
 And that his soul may be. as damn'd, and black, 
 As hell, whereto it goes. 
 
 — that his heels may kick at heaven ;] So, in Heywood's 
 Silver Age, lfj]3 : 
 " Whose heels tript up, kick'd 'gainst the firmament." Steev. 
 As hell, whereto it goes — ] This speech, in which Hamlet, 
 represented as a virtuous character, is not content with taking 
 blood for blood, but contrives damnation for the man that he 
 would punish, is too horrible to be read or to be uttered. 
 
 Johnson. 
 The same fiend-like disposition is shown by Loduxvick, in 
 Webster's Vittoria Corombona, \6l2: 
 
 " to have poison'd 
 
 " The handle of hib racket. O, that, that ! — 
 " That while he had been bandying at tennis, 
 M He might have sworn himself to hell, and struck 
 " His soul into the hazard !" 
 Again, in The Honest Lawyer, \6\6 : 
 
 " I then should strike his. body with his soul, 
 
58 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 " And sink them both together." 
 Again, in the third of Beaumont and Fletcher's Four Plays 
 in one, 
 " No, take him dead drunk now without repentance." Steev. 
 The same horrid thought has been adopted by Lewis Machin, 
 in the Dumb Knight, 1633 : 
 
 " Nay, but be patient, smooth your brow a little, 
 ** And you shall take them as they clip each other, 
 " Even in the height ol sin : then damn them both, 
 " And let them stink before they ask God pardon, 
 " That your revenge may stretch unto their souls." Max. 
 I think it not improbable that when Shakspeare put this 
 horrid sentiment into the mouth of Hamlet, he might have 
 recollected the following story : " One of these monsters meet- 
 ing his enemie unarmed, threatned to kill him if he denied not 
 God, his power, and essential properties, viz. his mercy, suff- 
 rance, &c. the which, when the other desiring life pronounced 
 with great horror, kneeling upon his knees : The bravo cried 
 out, nowe will I hill thy body and soule, and at that instant 
 thrust him through with his rapier." Brief Discourse' of the 
 Spanish State, with a Dialogue annexed intitled Philubasilis, 
 4to. 1590. p. 24. Ed. 
 
 ' As hell whereto it goes.' This outcry of Dr. Johnson 
 and his followers in regard to the damnatory (condemna- 
 tory) speech of Hamlet, is somewhat singular. The plain 
 meaning of it is, may he be punished according to his 
 sins, and this, it should be remembered, is in conformity 
 with the Christian doctrine of rewards and punishments. 
 " And they that have done good shall go into life ever- 
 lasting, and they that have done evil into everlasting fire." 
 Now what is to be understood of damnation? Is it to be 
 held as something more than being condemned to eternal 
 torments — than being sent into everlasting fire ?■ Surely 
 not. The whole of the matter is this — The Prince could 
 not speak of Claudius as being the worst oj all possible 
 'villains, that is to say, an hypocritical villain ; — his pre- 
 sent humility proceeding not from a contrite, but an 
 attrite heart. Jn a word, he is so very criminal, that it 
 would be a wickedness nearly equal to his own to wish 
 
SCENE IV. HAMLET. 39 
 
 him to find salvation : to hope that lie might receive for- 
 giveness at the hand of his maker. We find in another 
 page of the play, — " the devil take thy soul/' — and in 
 Othello, 
 
 " May his pernicious soul 
 Rot half a grain a day !" 
 With many the like imprecations. Why then are these 
 passed over as blameless, while the one in question is so 
 loudly exclaimed against? Such fulminations had been 
 better hurled at the anathemas, the holy maledictions, of 
 the Church of Rome. B. 
 
 Ham. Culls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the 
 rose 
 From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
 And sets a blister there ; 
 
 ■ — takes off the rose] Alluding to the custom of wearing 
 roses on the side of the face. See a note on a passage in King 
 John, act i. Warb. 
 
 It is not a' little extraordinary that the commentators 
 should be for considering literally, expressions that are 
 purely metaphorical. Rose is beauty, and blister is defor- 
 mity. The meaning plainly is, renders love, which is 
 naturally beautiful, ugly and deformed. B. 
 
 Queen. Ay me, what act, 
 That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ? 
 
 That roam so loud, &c] The meaning is, What is this 
 act, of which the discovery, or mention, cannot be made, but 
 with this violence of clamor ? John. 
 
 -and thunders in the index ?] Mr. Edwards observes, 
 
 that the indexes of many old books were at that time inserted 
 at the beginning, instead of the end, as is now the custom. 
 This observation I have often seen confirmed. Steev. 
 
 ' And thunders in the index.' This is not spoken of the 
 
 index of a book, but in allusion to an index of the powers 
 
60 HAMLET. ACT III. 
 
 in Algebra : to the exponent, or that which sets forth, 
 which shows the order or seat of each power. B. 
 
 Ham. That monster, custom, who all sense 
 doth eat, 
 Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this ; 
 
 That momta" custom who all sense doth eat, 
 Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this :] This passage is left 
 out in the two elder folios : it is certainly corrupt, and the 
 players did the discreet part to stifle what the)'' did not under- 
 stand. Habit's devil certainly arose from some conceited tarn- 
 perer with the text, who thought it was necessary in contrast to 
 angel. The emendation of the text I owe to the sagacity of 
 Dr. Thirl by : 
 
 That monster custom, who all sense doth eat 
 Of hnhltb evil, is angel, &c. Theob. 
 I think Thirlby's conjecture wrong, though the succeeding 
 editors have followed it ; angel and devil are evidently opposed. 
 
 John. 
 
 ' That monster custom, who all sense doth eat, 
 
 Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this." 
 
 The sense requires that we should read, 
 
 ' /^habit's devil, is angel yet in this.' B. 
 
 Ham. I must be cruel, only to be kind : 
 Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. — 
 ' I must be cruel only to be kind, 
 Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind !' 
 It does not appear to me that cruelty and kindness are 
 here meant to be set in opposition ; though this, I believe, 
 is generally understood of the passage. It were, however, 
 too derogatory from the character of Hamlet, and after 
 what we had just before observed of his state of mind, to 
 suppose that he should at once be given to quibbling; tha? 
 his wit or understanding should be represented as, 
 11 See-saw, between that and this, 
 And he himself one vile antithesis," 
 
SCENE IV. HAMLET. 61 
 
 With respect to ' begins' it is not tlie verb which is em- 
 ployed, but the substantive. Begins for beginnings — often 
 thus set down in the earlier writers. " Let there be bad 
 beginnings, and worse will soon follow;" by which he would 
 say, crime is progressive. Thus Juvenal, 
 
 Nemo repente fuit turpissimus : 
 And thus the old proverb, 
 
 Bad begins 
 
 Lead to sins. 
 The sense of the lines — in which it must yet be owned 
 there is a conceit — I believe to be this — [kind is contracted 
 of kindred.] " I must be cruel in order to be kindred .- in 
 order to show that I am of the same blood with the King 
 and Queen." The particular meaning of Hamlet, however, 
 and as it attaches to his relatives, is — ( f thus bad begins') 
 " thus my conduct towards my mother, and as far as lan- 
 guage goes, may be termed cruel: it is in truth a bad begin- 
 ning (" but worse remains behind,") but worse will come — 
 / shall not rest here." By which he intimates the probable 
 fall of the parties concerned in the murder of his father. B. 
 
 Ham. And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses. 
 Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, 
 Make you to ravel all this matter out. 
 
 — reechy kisses,] Reechy is smoky. The author meant to 
 convey a coarse id< a, and was not very scrupulous in his choice 
 of an epithet. The same, however, is applied with greater 
 propriety to the neck of a cook-maid in Curiolanus. Steev. 
 
 " Reechy," in this place, is rather smoking, than smoky. 
 
 " Reechy kisses" are hot, burning kisses. B. 
 
 Ham. They must sweep my way, 
 
 And marshal me to knavery : 
 
 ' i\nd marshal me to knavery.' Hamlet by ' knavery* 
 
62 HAMLET. ACT IV. 
 
 must mean subtilty, artifice. As the expression is equivo- 
 cal, and as French words are common with our author, it 
 would be better to read f naivete, cunning,' i. e. that 
 cunning which his enemies may attempt to practise against 
 him, or that which he may himself employ. 
 
 This appears to be what he would hint at, if we are to 
 judge by the immediately following lines. Or he may have 
 coined a word (naivety) which has exactly the sound of 
 that in the text. B. 
 
 Ham* The body is with the king, but the king 
 is not with the body. 
 
 The body is with the king, — ] This answer I do not com- 
 prehend. Perhaps it should be, The body is not with the king, 
 for the king is not with the body. John. 
 
 Perhaps it may mean this. The body is in the king's house, 
 (i* e. the present king's^ yet the king (i. e. he who should 
 have been king) is not with the body. Intimating that the 
 usurper is here, the true king in a better place. Or it may 
 mean — the guilt of the murder lies with the king, but the king 
 is not where the body lies. The affected obscurity of Hamlet 
 must excuse so many attempts to procure something like a 
 meaning. Steev. 
 
 ' The body is with the king, but the king is not with the 
 body.' The answer of Hamlet is not in reference to the 
 body of Polonius. His words are certainly to be consi- 
 dered as a covert allusion to the nefarious practices of the 
 king. ' Body' is here, and according to the scriptural sig- 
 nification, reality. ' The body is with the King,' i. e. 
 " Claudius is actually king : he has the reality, the 
 power." — ' But the king is not with the body,' i. e. " Yet 
 that power belongs not to him as lawful king : he has 
 stolen the crown he possesses, and therefore, and in fact, 
 the king, (for this is none) has not the reality." This, I 
 think, is the conceit. B. 
 
 King. Thou may'st not coldly set 
 
 Our sovereign process : 
 
SCENE V. HAMLET. 63 
 
 set by 
 
 Our sovereign process, — ] So Hanmer. The others have only 
 set. John. 
 
 We should read jet, (jetter, French) i, e. reject, throw 
 
 out my process or suit. B. 
 
 Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand 
 ducats, 
 Will not debate the question of this straw ; 
 
 ' Will not debate the question of this straw.' It would 
 seem that ' debate' should here be rebate, i. e. check, in- 
 terrupt, or put a stop to. B. 
 
 Oph. Larded all with sxveet flowers ; 
 Which bexcept to the grave did go, 
 With true-love showers. 
 
 Larded all with sxecet flowers .] The expression is taken from 
 cookery. John. 
 
 ' Larded all with sweet flowers.' Readfarded, (fardc 
 
 fr.) i. e. ornamented, bedecked. B. 
 
 Oph. By Gis, and by Saint Charity 
 Alack, and fie for shame ! 
 
 By Gis, — ] I rather imagine it should be read, 
 
 By Cis, 
 
 That is, by St. Cecily. John. 
 
 by Saint Charity,'] Saint Charity is a- known saint 
 
 among the Roman Catholics. Spenser mentions her, F.clog. 
 5. 255: 
 
 " Ah ! dear lord, and sweet Saint Charity !" 
 
 * Saint Charity,' is holy charity, an epithet which will 
 
 not apply, indeed to alms-giving : — it belongs entirely b> 
 
 the theological virtue of universal love. B. 
 
 Gen. The rabble call him, lord ; 
 
 And, as the world were now but to begin, 
 Antiquity forgot, custom not known, 
 
64" n at i a IT. ACT IV. 
 
 The ratifiers and props of every ward, 
 
 They cry,( 'hoose we ; Laertes shall be Ling ! 
 
 The ratifti rt and props of every word,] The whole t< nor of 
 the context m sufficient to show, that this is a mistaken reading. 
 What ran antiquity and custom, being the props of words, have 
 to do with the business in hand? Or what idea is conveyed by 
 it ? Certainly the poet wrote: 
 
 The ratifiers and props of every ward. 
 The messenger is complaining that the riotous head had over- 
 borne the king's officers, and then subjoins, that antiquity and 
 custom were forgot, which were the ratifiers and props of every 
 •ward, i. P. of everv one of those securities that nature and law 
 place about the person of a king. All this is rational and 
 consequential. Wa&B. 
 
 With this emendation, which was in Theobald's edition, 
 Hanmer was not satisfied. It is indeed harsh. llanmer 
 transposes the lines, and reads, 
 
 They cry, " Chuse we Laertes for our king ;" 
 'I he ratifiers and props of every word, 
 Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds. 
 I think the fault may be mended at less expense, by reading. 
 Antiquity forgot, custom not known, 
 The ratifiers and props of every weal. 
 That is, of every government. John. 
 
 The ratifiers and props of every word.] By xvord is here 
 meant a declaration, or proposal ; it is determined to this sense, 
 by the inference it hath to what had just preceded, 
 The rabble call him lord, eve. 
 This acclamation, which is the word here spoken of, was 
 made without regard to antiquity, or received custom, whose 
 concurrence, however, is necessarily required to confer vali- 
 dity and stability in every proposal of this kind. Rev. 
 
 Sir T. llanmer would transpose the two last lines. Dr. 
 Warburton proposes to read, nurd; and Dr. Johnson, weal 
 instead of word. 1 should be rather for reading, work, 
 
 Tyrw. 
 The ratifiers and props of every word,] In the first folio 
 there is only a comma at the end of the above line; and will 
 not the passage bear this construction ? — The rabble call him 
 lord, and as if the world were now but to begin, and as if the 
 ancient custom of hereditary succession were unknown, they, 
 the ratifiers and props of every word he utters, cry, Let us 
 make choice, that Laertes shall be king, ToL. 
 
 " The ratifiers and props of every word." There is not 
 the least occasion for change. ' Word' is here authority, 
 command. Read, 
 
SCEXE V. HAMLET. 65 
 
 ( The rabble call him lord : — 
 And as the world were now but to begin, 
 Antiquity forgot, custom not known, — 
 (The ratifiers and props of every word)— 
 They cry choose we : Laertes shall be king.' 
 i. e. " The rabble hail him lord : and as though antiquity 
 and custom (which are the ratifiers and props of all autho- 
 rity) were wholly forgotten ; — They cry, Laertes shall be 
 King." B. 
 
 King. Do not fear our person \ 
 
 There's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
 That treason can but peep to what it would, 
 Acts little of his will. 
 
 • Do not fear our person, 
 There's such divinity doth hedge a King, &c.' 
 
 See the dialogue of Xenophon entitled Hiero, beginning 
 ccW' $totys ; and in which Simonides says — " The Gods 
 have attached, as it were, to the person of a King, a certain 
 grace, a certain virtue which makes us look on him not 
 only with admiration but with awe." 13. 
 
 Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance ; 
 
 There's rosemary, that's for remembrance ; and there's pan- 
 sies, that's for thoughts.] There is probably some mythology 
 in the choice of these herbs, but I cannot explain it. Pansies 
 is for thoughts, because of its name, Pcnsees ; but why rosemary 
 indicates remembrance, except that it is an ever-green, and 
 carried at funerals, I have not discovered. John. 
 
 Rosemary has always been considered as an excellent 
 
 cephalic. The reason why rosemary indicates remembrance, 
 
 is, because it is supposed to strengthen the brain. It is 
 
 well known that in inveterate head-achs, the memory is 
 
 frequently lost. B. 
 
 SHAK. I. X 
 
66 HAMLET. ACT IV. 
 
 King. Laertes, I must common with your 
 grief, 
 Or you deny me right. 
 
 — common — Should not the king say, " Laertes, I must 
 eommttne with your grief, &c. Hex. 
 
 ' 1 must common with your grief,' — means J must 
 be your associate or partner in grief. It alludes to the 
 regular living and diet of a Society, or members of a Col- 
 lege. B. 
 
 King. I have seen myself, and serv'd against 
 the French, 
 And they can well on horseback. 
 
 Can.] The folio reads ran. IIsn. 
 
 ' Can well on horseback.' — ' Ran' is the proper word. 
 This is said of their skill in what is called Tilting. B. 
 
 King. Not that I think, you did not love your 
 father : 
 But that I know, love is begun by time ; 
 
 — love is begun by time ; This is obscure. The meaning 
 may be, love is not innate in us, and co-essential to our na- 
 ture, but begins at a certain lime from some external cause, 
 and being always subject to the operations of time, suffers 
 change and diminution. John. 
 
 — ' Love is begun by time/ We must read ' berime* and 
 
 njake a transposition as under. There is then no obscurity 
 
 whatever. 
 
 ' Not that I think you did not love your father ; 
 
 Love is begun betime : but that I know, 
 
 And that I see in passages of proof, 
 
 Time qualifies the spark and lire of it. B. 
 
 King. Or with a little shuffling, you may choose 
 A sword unbated. 
 
SCENE I. HAMLET. 
 
 67 
 
 A swotd unla(ed,—i. e. not blunted as foils arc. Or, as one 
 edition lias it, cmbuttd or envenomed. Pove. 
 
 There is no such reading as cmbaitcd in any edition. In 
 Sir Thomas North's Translation ot Plutarch, is said of one of 
 the Mrtclli, that " he shewed the people the cruel tight of 
 fencers at vnrebated swords." Steev. 
 
 i A sword unbated.' This should be unrelated. To 
 rebate is to blunt, to take off an edge or a point of a long 
 weapon. B. 
 
 Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the 
 brook, 
 That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
 
 — ascaunt the brook,] Thus the quartos. The folio reads, 
 astant. Ascauncc is interpreted in the glossary c> Chaucer — 
 askew, aside, sideways. Steev. 
 
 ' Ascaunt the brook.' ' Astant' i. e. by the side of: 
 standing by is the right reading. Why should the willow 
 be described as growing askew, which ascaunt undoubt- 
 edly means ? B. 
 
 Ham. Shew me what thou'lt do : 
 Woo't weep ? woo't fight? woo' fast ? woo't tear 
 
 thyself ? 
 Woo't drink up Esil ? eat a crocodile ? 
 
 I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine ? 
 
 To out-face me with leaping in her grave ? 
 
 Woo't drink vp Ksill ? cat a crocodile ? This word has 
 through all the editions been distinguished by Italic characters, 
 as. if it were the proper name of some river; and so, I dare 
 say, all the editors have from time to time understood it to be. 
 But then this must be some river in Denmark ; and there is none 
 there so called ; por is there any near it in name, that I know of, 
 but ¥ssel, from which the proviuee of Overyssel derives its title 
 in the German Flanders. Besides, Hamlet is not proposing any 
 impossibilities to Laertes, as the drinking up a river would be : 
 but he rather seems to mean, Wilt thou resolve to do thing- 
 
(j3 UAJILET. ACT V. 
 
 the most shocking and distasteful to human nature; and, 
 behold, I am as resolute. I am persuaded the poet wrote: 
 
 W,ilt drink up Eisel? eat a crocodile 
 i. e. Wilt thou swallow down large draughts of toinegdrf The 
 proposition, indeed, is not very grand : but the doing it might 
 be as distasteful and unsavoury as eating the flesh of a crocodile. 
 And now there is neither an impossibility, nor an anticlimax : 
 and the lowness of the idea is in some measure removed by the 
 uncommon term. Theob. 
 
 Hanmer ha?, 
 
 Wilt drink up Nile ? or eat a crocodile ? 
 
 Hamlet certainly meant fior he says he will rant) to dare 
 Laertes to attempt any thing, however difficult or unnatural ; 
 and might safely promise to follow the example his antagonist 
 was to set, in draining the channel of a river, or trying his 
 teeth on an animal, whoso scales are supposed to be impene- 
 trable. Had Shakspearc meant to make 'Hamlet say — Wilt 
 thou drink vinegar? he probably would not have used the 
 term drink vp ; which means, totally to exhaust ; neither is 
 that challenge very magnificent, which only provokes an adver- 
 sary to hazard a fit of the heart-burn or the colic. 
 
 The commentator's Ysscl would serve Hamlet's turn or 
 mine. This river is twice mentioned by Stowe, p. 735. " It 
 standeth a good distance from the river Issel, but hath a sconce 
 on Issel of incredible strength." 
 
 Again, by Drayton, in the 24th Song of his Polyolbion. 
 
 " The one O'er Isell's banks the ancient Saxons taught ; 
 
 At Over Iscll rest, the other did apply :" 
 
 And, in K. Richard II. a thought in part the same, occurs, 
 act ii. sc. 2 : " — the task he undertakes 
 
 " Is numbering sands, and drinking oceans dry." 
 But in an old Latin account of Denmark and the neighbouring 
 provinces, I find the names of several rivers little differing from 
 Esil, or Eisill, in spelling or pronunciation. Such are the 
 Essa, the Oesil, and some others. The word, like many more, 
 may indeed be irrecoverably corrupted : but, I must add, that 
 no authors later than Chaucer or Skelton make use of eysel for 
 vinegar: nor has Shakspeare employed it in any other of his 
 plays. The poet might have written the Wcisel, a considerable 
 river which falls into the Baltic ocean, and could not be un- 
 known to any prince of Denmark. Steev. 
 
 Mr. Steevens appears to have forgot our author's 111th 
 sonnet ; 
 
 " I will drinke 
 " Potions of Eysell." 
 1 believe it has not been observed that many of these sonnet? 
 are addressed to his beloved nephew William Harte. Fakm, 
 
-SCENE I. HAMLET. 6i) 
 
 I have since observed, that Mandnil/e lias the same word. 
 
 Si lev. 
 
 " Woo't weep ? woo't fight, woo't fast, woo't tear thy- 
 self? 
 Woo't drink up Esil, eat a crocodile ? 
 I'll do't — dost thou come here to whine ? " 
 
 This proposition of Hamlet is too extravagant, too 
 ridiculous, to remain in the text. By such a reading the 
 Danish Prince appeals to be a very Dragon of Wantley 
 
 for voraciousness, of whom it is reported > 
 
 " Houses and churches, 
 
 Were to him as geese and turkies." 
 
 Seriously, however, there is little wrong but in the 
 order of the words. I regulate the passage thus — 
 " Woo't weep ? woo't drink ? woo't eat ? woo't fast ? 
 
 woo't fight ? 
 Woo't tear thyself? — Ape, Esel, Crocodile ! 
 I'll do't. — Dost thou come here to whine ?" 
 
 In the trial to which Laertes is invited, we rind little more 
 than what is natural, until the words — te woo't tear thy- 
 self ?" which completewhat maybe called a kind of climax. 
 In the feats to be performed, however, it must be supposed 
 that all are meant in excess. To invite Laertes to triah 
 of intemperance is not very elegant, indeed, but with the 
 Danish character it suits sufficiently well. " Up," is mis- 
 printed for Ape, ('probably written Ap') which latter word 
 is here used, not in allusion to the figure or shape of Laer- 
 tes, but in ridicule of him as having an imitative power. 
 " Esel'' in old language is Ass: in this place one who is 
 dissonantly loud, or noisy. Of the fabled moaning of the 
 Crocodile, it is scarcely necessary to speak. — " Ape, Esel, 
 Crocodile !" — " Mimick! thou who art at one time clamo- 
 rous, and at another whining." The whole is spoken in 
 
70 HAMLET. ACT V. 
 
 contempt of a forced sorrow : of an affected or counterfeit 
 grief. 
 
 It will be perceived, by a proper attention, that this 
 arrangement will give the true and particular meaning. In 
 the challenge of Hamlet, as I have altered it, there is 
 nothing proposed but what may be said to come within the 
 line of possibility, though certainly somewhat outre. The 
 Prince, however, would intimate (we must make allowance 
 for his state of mind) that there shall be no restraint : 
 the several actions, as I have already observed, may be ex- 
 cessive. " Dost thou come here to whine ?" evidently 
 refers to Crocodile: while it greatly strengthens my con- 
 jecture as to the errors in question, and which I suppose to 
 ha\e originated at the printing press. 
 
 It may be objected, and with some shew of reason, that 
 the terms, ' Ape,' &c. are improper from the lips of a 
 Prince. But it must be answered that Shakspeare fre- 
 quently fails in giving to his characters good and appro- 
 priate manners. He is the pupil of nature and not of art. 
 The bursts of passion, the emotions of the soul are the dis- 
 tinguishing qualities in his works. In a word this super- 
 human Poet is not to be tried, in any particular whatever, 
 by Aristotelian laws. B. 
 
 Ham. Rashly, 
 
 And praisM be rashness for it — Let us know, 
 Our indiscretion sometime serves us well, 
 When our deep plots do fail : 
 
 Rash! a , 
 
 And pruis'd be rashness for it — Let us know, 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When, &c] The sense in this reading is, Our rashness lets 
 vs know that our indiscretion serves us well, xvhen, &c. But 
 this could never be Shakspeare's sense. We should read and 
 point thus : 
 
bCEXE IT. HAMLET. 71 
 
 Rashness 
 
 (And prais'd be rashness for it) lets us know ; 
 Or indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When, &c] i. e. Rashness acquaints us with what we 
 cannot penetrate to by plots. WaUB. 
 Both my copies read, 
 
 - .Rashly, 
 
 And prais'd be rashness for it, let us know ; 
 Hamlet, deli wring an account of his escape, begins with 
 
 saying, That he rashly and then is carried into a reflection 
 
 upon the weakness of human wisdom. I rashly praised be 
 
 rashness for it ■■ Let hs not think these events casual, but let 
 us know, that is, take notice and remember, that we sometimes 
 succeed by indiscretion, when we fail by deep plots, and infer 
 the perpetual superintendance and agency of the Divinity. 
 The observation is just, and will 'be allowed by every human 
 being who shall reflect on the couise of his own life. John. 
 This passage, I think, should be thus distributed. — Rashly 
 (And prais'd be rashness, for it lets us know, 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When our deep plots do fail, and that should teach us, 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough hew them how we will ; — 
 Hor. That is most certain. — ) 
 
 Ham. Up from my cabin, &c.j So that rashly may be 
 joined in construction with in the dark grop'd I to find out 
 them. Tyrw. 
 
 When our deep plots do fail : The folio reads — When our 
 dear plots do paide. Mal. 
 
 — f Rashly, 
 
 And prais'd be rashness for it,' &c. 
 
 ' Paule' is undoubtedly Shakspeare's word. It stands 
 
 for pall, a contraction of oppal. We must likewise read, 
 
 ' Rashness, 
 
 (And prais'd be rashness for it) lets us know, 
 
 When our dear plots/ &c. 
 
 Hamlet is giving an account of his uneasy state of mind, 
 
 and says, that " rashness prompted to that discovery which, 
 
 had he pondered on it (had it been his dear plot ) he might 
 
 have been frightened or discouraged from." This reason- 
 
72 HAMLET. ACT V. 
 
 1112; is better and closer than that which the reading of the 
 modern editors presents to us. B. 
 
 Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king, — 
 As England was his faithful tributary ; 
 As love between them like the palm might flourish, 
 As peace should still her wheaten garland wear, 
 And stand a comma 'tween their amities ; 
 
 As peace should still her wheaten garland wear, 
 And stand a comma 'tween their amities." 
 Peace is here properly and finely personalized as the goddess 
 of good league and friendship; and very classically dressed out. 
 Ovid says, - 
 
 " Pax Cererem nutrit, pacis alumna Ceres." 
 And Tibullus, 
 
 " At nobis, pax alma, veni, spicamque teneto." 
 But the placing her as a comma, or stop, between the amities of 
 two kingdoms, makes her rather stand like a cypher. The 
 poet without doubt wrote : 
 
 And stand a commere 'tween our amities. 
 The term is taken from a trafficker in love, who brings people 
 together, a procuress. And this idea is well appropriated to 
 the satirical turn which the speaker gives to this wicked adju- 
 ration of the king, who would lay the foundation of the peace 
 of the two kingdoms in the blood of the heir of one of them. 
 Periers, in his novels, uses the word commere to signify a 
 she-friend. " A tuus ses gens chacun une commere." And 
 Ben Jonson, in his Devil's an Ass, englishes the word by a 
 middling gossip. 
 
 "Or what do you say to a middling gossip, 
 '* To bring you together." Ware. 
 Hanmer reads, 
 
 And stand a cement 
 
 1 am again inclined to vindicate the old reading. That the 
 word commere is French, will not be denied ; but when or 
 where was it English ? 
 
 The expression of our author is, like many of his phrases, 
 sufficiently constrained and affected, but it is not incapable of 
 explanation. The comma is the note of connection and conti- 
 nuity of sentences ; the period is the note of abruption and dis- 
 junction. Shakspeare had it perhaps in his mind to write, 
 That unless England complied with the mandate, -war should 
 put a period to their amity ; he altered his mode of diction, 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 73 
 
 and thought that, in an opposite sense, he might put, that 
 Peace should stand a comma In (uteri (heir amities. This is 
 not an easy stile ; but is it not the stile of Shakspeare ? John. 
 
 " As peace, &c. 
 
 " And stand a comma," &c. 
 " Comma," if it does not absolutely mean stop, must 
 yet be understood as making a pause, a sense which will 
 not do here. There can be little question but that 
 Shakspeare wrote — " be a co-mate 'tween their amities." 
 " Co-mate," i. e. companion. The meaning of the pas- 
 sage is : " that peace should be associate with them/' B. 
 
 Ham. I beseech you, remember — 
 
 [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat. 
 Osr. Nay, good my lord ; for my ease, in 
 good faith. 
 
 Nay, in good faith, — for mine ease.] This seems to have 
 been the affected phrase of the time. — Thus in Marstons 
 Malecontent, " I beseech you, sir, be covered. — No, in good 
 faith for my ease." And in other places. Farm. 
 
 It seems to have been the common language of ceremony 
 in our author's time. " Why do you stand bareheaded ?" (says 
 one of the speakers in Florio's Second Frutes, 1590 "you do 
 yourself wrong." " Pardon me, good sir " (replies his friend) ; 
 " I do it for my ease." 
 
 Again, in A New Way to pay old Debts, by Massinger, 
 1633: 
 
 " Is't for your ease, 
 
 " You keep your hat off?" Mat,. 
 
 " For my ease." The commentators do not seem to 
 
 know the meaning of this expression. For my ease does 
 
 not here signify to be relieved from any bodily pain, but 
 
 simply : It is my pleasure: it is agreeable to me. 
 
 Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the 
 card or calendar of gentry. 
 
 — speak feelingly.] The first quarto reads, sellingly. 
 
74 HAMLET. ACT V. 
 
 ** Speak feelingly.'' '* Feelingly," has no sort of 
 meaning in this place. The quarto is nearly right. Wc 
 must read seclingly. Seel in Spenser and other early 
 writers is happy. Shakspeare uses happy in the sense 
 of proper, haudsome. He therefore makes Osrick say — 
 * x to speak properly or handsomely of him," &c. B. 
 
 Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of 
 him. 
 
 Ham, The concernancy, sir ? why do we wrap 
 the gentleman in our more rawer breath ? 
 
 Osr. Sir? 
 
 Hor. Is't not possible to understand in another 
 tongue ? You will do't, sir, really. 
 
 Is't not possible to understand in another tongue ? you will 
 do't, sir, really.'] Of this interrogatory remark the sense is 
 very obscure. The question may mean, Might not all this be 
 vnderstood in plainer language. But then, you will do it, sir, 
 really, seems to have no use, for who could doubt but plain 
 language would be intelligible ? I would therefore read, is't 
 possible not to be understood in a mother tongue. You will 
 do it, sir, really. John. 
 
 Suppose we were to point the passage thus : Is't not possi- 
 ble to understand ? In another tongue you will do it, sir, 
 really. 
 
 The speech seems to be addressed to Osrick, who is puzzled" 
 by Hamlet's imitation of his own affected language. Steev. 
 
 u Is't not possible to understand," &c. The latter 
 
 part of Horatio's speech certainly belongs to Osrick. 
 
 Hamlet puts a question in which, by the way, "wrap'" 
 
 should be " warp." " Why do we turn or twist the 
 
 gentleman thus? Why thus be giving our opinions of him, 
 
 and which after all, perhaps, are but crude ? " To this 
 
 Osrick replies : " Sir ? — You will do it, Sir, really." i. e. 
 
 " It is wholly owing to yourself." B. 
 
 Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon ; but in the 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 75 
 
 imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he's 
 u niello w'd. 
 
 — in his meed — ] In his excellence. John. 
 
 " — in his meed." " Meed " is not excellence. It 
 signifies reward, recompense. We must read meet, and 
 change the punctuation. " I mean, Sir, for his weapon ; 
 but in the imputation laid on him by them in his meet. 
 He's unfellow'd !" " I merely speak of his exercise, of the 
 weapon, Sir, only in regard of his aptness, his skilfulness 
 in it. In short he's unequalled." B. 
 
 Ham. A kind of yesty, collection, which carries 
 them through and through the most fond and 
 winnowed opinions. 
 
 — a hind of yesty collection, which carries them through 
 and through the most fond and winnowed opinions ; and do 
 but blow them to their trials, the bubbles are out.] The meta- 
 phor is strangely mangled by the intrusion of the word fond, 
 which undoubtedly should be read fann'd ; the allusion 
 being to corn separated by the fan from chaff and dust. But 
 the editors seeing from the character of this yesty collection, 
 that the opinions, through which they were so currently 
 carried, were false opinions ; and fann'd and winnow' d opi- 
 nions, in the most- obvious sense, signifying tried and purified 
 opinions ; they thought fann'd must needs be wrong, and 
 therefore made it fond, which word signified, in our author's 
 time, foolish, weak, or childish. They did not consider that 
 fann'd and winnoxo'd opinions had also a different signification : 
 for it may mean the opinions of great men and courtiers, men 
 separated by their quality from the vulgar, as corn is separated 
 from chaff. This yesty collection, says Hamlet, insinuates 
 itself into people of the highest quality, as yest into the 
 finest flour. The courtiers admire him, when he comes to the 
 trial, <5cc. WaRB. 
 
 This is a very happy emendation ; but I know not why the 
 critic should suppose that fond was printed for fann'd in 
 consequence of any reason or reflection. Such errors, to 
 which there is no temptation but idleness, and of which 
 there was no cause but ignorance, arc in every page of the 
 old editions. This passage in the quarto stands thus : " They 
 have got out of the habit of encounter, a kind of misty col- 
 
76 HAMLET. ACT V. 
 
 lection, which carries them through and through the most 
 profane and trennowned opinions." If this printer preserved 
 any traces of the original, our author wrote, " the most sane 
 and renowned opinions," which is better than fann'd and 
 winnow'd. 
 
 The meaning is, " these men have got the cant of the day, 
 a superficial readiness of slight and cursory conversation, a 
 kind of frothy collection of fashionable prattle, which yet 
 carried them through the most select and approving judg- 
 ments. This airy facility of talk sometimes imposes upon 
 wise men." 
 
 V/ho has not seen this observation verified ? John. 
 
 u A kind of yesty collection," &c. Dr. Johnson is 
 right in saying that the reading in the quarto is best. 
 I am fully persuaded that it is the true one, — except 
 that for profane we must read profonde (fr.) deep, subtle. 
 B. 
 
 Ham. Since no man knows aught of what he 
 leaves, xvhat is't to leave betimes ? 
 
 Since no man has [ought of what he leaves, what is't to 
 leave betimes ?] This the editors called reasoning. I should 
 have thought the premises concluded just otherwise: for 
 since death strips a man of every thing, it is but fit he should 
 shun and avoid the despoiler. The old quarto reads, Since 
 no man, of ought he leaves, knows, -what is't to leave betimes ? 
 Let be. This is the true reading. Here the premises con- 
 clude right, and the argument drawn out at length is to this 
 effect : " It is true, that, by- death, we lose all the goods of 
 life ; yet seeing this loss is no otherwise an evil than we are 
 sensible of it, and since death removes all sense of it, what 
 matters it how soon we lose them ? Therefore come what will,. 
 ] am prepared." But the ill pointing in the old book hin- 
 dered the editors from seeing Shakspeare's sense, and encou- 
 raged them to venture at one of their own, though, as usual, 
 they are come very lamely off. Warb. 
 
 The reading of the quarto was right, but in some other 
 copy the harshness of the transposition was softened, and the 
 passage stood thus : Since no man knows aught of what he 
 leaves. P'or knows was printed in the later copies has, by a 
 slight blunder in such typographers. 
 
 I do not think Dr. Warburton's interpretation of the pas- 
 sage the best that it will admit, The meaning may be this,. 
 
SCENE II. HAMLET. 77 
 
 Since no man knows aught of the state of life which he leaves, 
 since he cannot judge what other years may produce, why 
 should he be afraid of leaving life betimes ? Why should he 
 dread an early death, of which he cannot tell whether it is an 
 exclusion of happiness, or an interception of calamity. I 
 despise the superstition of augury and omens, "which has no 
 ground in reason or piety ; my comfort is, that I cannot fall 
 but by the direction of Providence. 
 
 Ilanmcr has, Since no man owes aught, a conjecture not 
 very reprehensible. Since no man can call any possession 
 certain, what is it to leave ? John. 
 
 " Since no man has aught of what he leaves." Dr. 
 Warburton justly objects to the reasoning here laid down. 
 The reading of the quarto is no doubt the true one, un- 
 less for " has aught," we substitute " has thought" and 
 which, perhaps, would be better. In either case, 
 the Bishop's interpretation of the passage will be right, 
 while that of Dr. Johnson is manifestly wrong. We 
 mid in the elder quarto — " Since no man, of aught he 
 leaves, knows," — that is, " no man of aught he leaves, 
 has any sense or care : death has wholly ended them." 
 In the present text we have " no man knows aught of what 
 he leaves," which gives a totally different meaning: It asserts 
 that there is no man who knows what it is he leaves, 
 which is far from being strictly or philosophically true. 
 -Man knows, not only what he quits, but what he is to 
 possess : he knows that he leaves the pains and sorrows of 
 earthly existence, for the joys of eternal life. This, I 
 say, must be known, or the gospel has been promulgated 
 in vain. B. 
 
$Utbetf). 
 
 ACT I. SCENE II. 
 
 Copt. As when the sun 'gins his reflection 
 Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break ; 
 So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to 
 
 come. 
 Discomfort swells. 
 
 As when the sun 'gins his reflection.] Here arc two reading? 
 :n Hie copies, gives, and 'gins, i.e. begins. But the latter I 
 think is the right, as founded on observation that storms gen- 
 erally come from the east. As from the place (says he) 
 whence the sun begins his course, (viz. the cast J shipwrecking 
 storms proceed, so, fyc. For the natural and constant motion 
 of the ocean is from east to west; and the wind has the same 
 general direction. This being so, it is no wonder that storms 
 should come most frequently from that quarter ; or that they 
 should be most violent, because there is a concurrence of the 
 natural motions of wind and wave. This proves the true 
 reading is 'gins ; the other reading not fixing it to that quar- 
 ter. For the sun may give its reflection in any part of its 
 course above the horizon ; but it can begin it only in one. 
 The Oxford editor, however, sticks to the other leading, gTFM. 
 and says, that, by the sun's giving his reflexion, is meant the 
 rainbow, the strongest and most remarkable i'f j iijn of any 
 
80 MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 the sun gives. He appears by this to have as good a hand at 
 reforming our physics us our poetry. This is a discovery, 
 that shipwrecking storms proceed from the rainbow. But he 
 was misled by his want of skill in Shakspeare's phraseology, 
 who, by the suit's reflexion, means only the sun's light. But 
 ■while he is intent on making his author speak correctly, he 
 slips himself. The rainbow is no more a reflection of the sun, 
 than a tune is a fiddle. And, though it be the most remarka- 
 ble effect of reflected light, yet it is not the strongest. War- 
 burtox. 
 
 w As when the sun 'gins his reflection." The true 
 reading is "gives." Dr. W. is mistaken in -saying that 
 storms " generally come from the east." The contrary is 
 the fact ; — they usually proceed from the south or south 
 west. Storms are the most violent, and consequently the 
 most dangerous, when winds and tides meet ; and not as 
 the Bishop supposes when there is " a concurrence of the 
 natural motions of wind and wave." The meaning of 
 the whole is this. — " As at a time when the sun appears 
 in splendor, and the horizon is perfectly clear, direful 
 storms will suddenly arise : so from that source whence 
 comfort seemed to proceed, discomfort will often come." 
 If for argument's sake we admit that hurricanes commonly 
 proceed from the east, the adverb z&hen cannot be right, 
 because it is making those hurricanes commence at the 
 particular time in which the sun begins its course : and 
 seemingly by a natural consequence : but this is highly 
 absurd. When, likewise^ we compare the thing illus- 
 trated by that which illustrates, it will be found that the 
 present reading, 'gins is wrong ; — -For when he says : " so 
 from that spring, &c." we cannot understand spring as 
 referring to the beginning of the sun's course ; but, as 
 alluding to its reflection or influence we certainly may. It is 
 evident therefore that " gives " must be restored to the 
 text, and that the passage should be interpreted as I have 
 recommended. B. 
 
 Rosse. From Fife, great king, 
 Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky, 
 And fan our people cold. 
 
 -flout the shy 
 
 To flout is to dash any thing in another's face. Warburton. 
 
SCENE III. MACBETH. 81 
 
 "Banners flout the sky," read "fldat i* Ae sky," i.e. 
 
 wave, -play. The word fan seems the more particularly 
 to direct to this reading. 15. 
 
 1 Witch. Aroint thee, witch ! the rump-fed 
 ronyon cries. 
 
 Aroint tine — ] Aroint, or a\aunt, he gone. Pope. 
 
 Aroint t/icc, xvitih ! — ] In one of tin" folio editions the 
 reading is anoint tine, ia a sense very consistent with the 
 common account of witches, who ate related to perform many 
 supernatural acts by the means of unguents, and particularly 
 to fly through the air to the places where they meet at their 
 hellish festivals. In this sense, anoint thee, witch, will mean, 
 away, witch, to your infernal assembly. This reading I was 
 inclined to favor, because I had met with the word aroint 
 in no other author; till looking into Hearne's collections I 
 found it in a very old drawing, that he has published, in which 
 St. Patrick is represented visiting hell, and putting the devils 
 into gnat confusion by his presence, of whom one, that is 
 driving the damned before him with a prong, has a label 
 issuing out of his mouth with these words, our o"T Aiiongt, 
 of which the last is evidently the same with aroint, and used 
 in the same- sense as in this passage. John. 
 
 Rynt you Witch, quoth Besse Locket to her mother, is a north 
 country proverb. The word is used again in K.Lear: 
 " And aroint thee witch, aroint thee." Steev. 
 
 The commentators are agreed that aroint is the same as 
 avaunt ; but they have totally mistaken the meaning of 
 the word. " Royne " is scab, a term of reproach, and 
 frequently used as such by our earlier writers. We must 
 therefore read, " Aroint the witch ! " i. e. scab take, 
 or scab catch the witch " Aroint " is formed bv the 
 same analogy as arouse, aright, &c. but as it may seem 
 to some, improperly. 
 
 " Out out, arongt," as instanced by Dr. Johnson, 
 means out out, scab ! B. 
 
 the rump-fed ronyon.] The chief cooks in noble- 
 men's families, colleges, religious houses, hospitals, e*c. 
 anciently claimed the emoluments or kitchen fees of kidneys, 
 fat, trotters, rumps, &c. which they sold to the poor. The 
 wend sister in this scene, as an insult on the poverty of the 
 woman who had called her witch, reproaches her poor abjec* 
 
 SIIAK. I. F 
 
82 MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 state, as not being able to procure better provision than offals, 
 which are considered as the refuse of the tables of others. 
 Colepep. 
 
 ronyon cries.] i.e. scabby or mangy woman. Fr. 
 rogneux, royne, scurf. Thus Chaucer, in the Romaunt of the 
 Rose, p. 551 : 
 
 " her necke 
 
 " Withouten bleine, or scabbc, or mine." 
 Shakspeare uses the word again in The Merry Wives of 
 Windsor. Steev. 
 
 Mr. Steevens has not rightlyexplained the word. It seem? 
 in this place to be used particularly as a term of reproach. 
 Rognon in French is kidney. The witch may there foie 
 call the sailor's wife kidney, in allusion to the food of 
 the poor, as mentioned by Colepepper. B. 
 
 All Witches. The weird sisters, hand in hand; 
 Posters of the sea and land, 
 
 The weyward sisters hand in hand.] The witches are here 
 speaking of themselves : and it is worth an inquiry why they 
 should style themselves the weyward, or wayward sisters. 
 This word, in its general acceptation, signifies perverse, fro- 
 ward, moody, obstinate, untractable, &c. and is every where 
 so used by our Shakspeare. To content ourselves with two 
 or three instances : 
 
 " Fy, fy, how wayward is this foolish love, 
 
 " That, like a testy babe, &c." Two Gents, of Ver. 
 " This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy." 
 
 Love's Labor Lost. 
 
 " And which is worse, all you have done, 
 
 " Is but for a wayward son.'' 
 It is improbable the witches would adopt this epithet to 
 themselves in any of these senses ; and therefore we are to 
 look a little farther for the poet's word and meaning. When 
 I had the first suspicion of our author being corrupt in this 
 place, it brought to my mind the following passage in Chau- 
 cer's Troilus and Cresseide, lib. iii. v. 6l8 : 
 
 " But O fortune, executrice of wierdes." 
 Which word the Glossaries expound to us by fates, or desti- 
 nies. 1 was soon confirmed in my suspicion, upon happening 
 to oip into lieylin's Cosmography, when- he makes a short 
 recital of the story of Macbeth and Banquo : 
 
 " These two," says he, " travelling together through a 
 
SCENE IH. MACBETH. 83 
 
 forest, were met by three fairies, witches, wierds.' The Scots 
 call them," &c. 
 
 1 presently recollected, that this story must be recorded at 
 more length by llolinshed, with whom, 1 thought, it was very 
 probable, that our author had traded for the materials of his 
 tragedy, and therefore confirmation was to be fetched from 
 this fountain. Accordingly, looking into the History of Scot- 
 land, I found the writer very prolix and express, from Hector 
 Boethius, in his remarkable story ; and, p. 170, speaking ot 
 these witches, he uses this expression : 
 
 M But afterwards the common opinion was, that these wo- 
 men were either the -weird sisters; that is, as ye would say, 
 the Goddesses of Destiny," &c. 
 
 Again, a little lower : 
 
 " The words of the three weird sisters also (of whom be- 
 fore ye have beard) greatly encouraged him thereunto." 
 
 And in several other paragraphs there this word is repeated. 
 I believe, by this time, it is plain, beyond a doubt, that the 
 word wayward has obtained in Macbeth, where th<- witches 
 are spoken o(, from the ignorance of the copyists, who are not 
 acquainted with the Scotch term ; and that in every passage, 
 where there is any relation to these witches or wizards, my 
 emendation must be embraced, and we must read weird. 
 Theob. 
 
 The weyward sisters, hand in hand.] Mr. Theobald had 
 found out who these weyward sisters were, but observed they 
 were called, in his authentic Holinshed, weird sisters ; and so 
 would needs have weyward a corruption of the text, because 
 it signifies perverse, f toward, &c. and it is improbable (he says) 
 that the witches should adopt this epithet to themselves. It 
 was hard that, when he knew so much, he should not know a 
 little more; that weyward had anciently the very same sense, 
 as weird; and was, indeed, the very same word differently 
 spelt; having acquired its later signification from the quality 
 and temper of these imaginary witches. But this is being a 
 critic like him who had discovered that there were two Her* 
 cules's ; and yet did not know that he had two next-door 
 neighbour! of one and the same name. As to these weyward 
 sisters, they were the Fates of the northern nations; the 
 three hand-maids of Odin. 
 
 However, to give this part of his work the more dignity, he 
 intermixes, with this northern, the Greek and Roman super- 
 stitions ; and puts Hecate at the head of their enchantments. 
 And to make it still more familiar to the common audiencw 
 
84- MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 (which was always his point) he adds, for another ingredient, 
 a sufficient quantity of our own country superstitions con- 
 cerning witches; their beards, their cats, and their broom- 
 sticks. So that his vritch scenes are like the charm they pre- 
 pare in one of them : where the ingredients are gathered 
 from every thing shocking in the natural world, as here, from 
 every thing absurd in the moral. But as extravagant as all 
 this is, the play has had the power to charm and bewitch 
 every audience from that time to this. Waub. 
 
 " The weyward sisters," fcvc. Generally speaking, I 
 hold the opinions of Warburtcn in the highest respect* 
 In the present instance, however, 1 am obliged to dissent 
 from him entirely. His attempt to throw ridicule on 
 the explication proposed by Theobald is particularly un- 
 fortunate, and recoils on himself. But though Theobald 
 had discovered who these sisters were, he knew not why 
 they had been particularly distinguished by the epithet 
 weird: and which it may still be necessary to explain. 
 By " weird sisters," we are no doubt to understand 
 fatal sisters, (i. e. destinies,) those who, according to the 
 ancient theology, were to make known the decrees of 
 Jupiter or fate. (Fatum est quod Jupiter fatur.) " Weird," 
 with the Scots, is evidently zcord, and is here used in an 
 absolute sense. " Weird sisters " will, therefore, mean 
 ministers of the word, or immutable decree : or at least 
 prophesiers in regard of the heavenly will. Accordingly, 
 we find in Hector Boethius, a chapter, the head of which 
 is as follows : Of the Weirdis [words or predictions] 
 gyven to Macbeth and, Banquo. We see, then, that 
 the witches of our poet are called the " weird sisters," and 
 this (as I have already observed,) from their being the 
 announcers or reporters of the word — the decree from 
 above. That Warburton is wrong in saying that wcywurd 
 is the same as xceird only differently spelled, will be evi- 
 dent on the slightest consideration, since the former signi- 
 ties fantastical, capricious : a character which will by no 
 means accord with the idea universally entertained of 
 fate. B. 
 
 Rosse. When he reads 
 Thy personal venture in the rebel's fight, 
 
SCENE IH. MACBETH. 85 
 
 His wonders and his praises do contend, 
 Which should be thine or his : Silenc'd with that, 
 In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day, 
 He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks. 
 
 His wonder and hu praises do contend, 
 
 Which should be thine, or his : ] 
 
 i.e. private admiration of your deeds, and a desire to do 
 them public justice by commendation, contend in his mind 
 for pre-eminence. — Or — Then 1 is a contest in his mind whe- 
 ther he should indulge his desire of publishing to the world 
 the commendations due to \our heroism, or whether he should 
 remain in silent admiration of what no words could celebrate 
 in proportion to its descrtl Stei.v. 
 
 " His wonders and his praises," &c. This is somewhat 
 obscure. v \ e may regulate the passage thus : 
 His wonder and his praises do contend. — 
 Silenc'd with that which should be thine, not his. B. 
 
 Rouse. As thick as tale, 
 Came post with post. 
 
 As thick as hail,] 
 
 Was Mr. Pope's correction. The old copy has : 
 
 As thick as tale 
 
 Can post uith post : • 
 
 which perhaps is not amiss, meaning, that the news came as 
 thick as a tale can travel with the post. Or we may read, 
 perhaps, yet better : 
 
 As thick as tale 
 
 Came post with post : 
 
 That is, posts arrived as fast as they could be counted. John. 
 " As thick as tale." This is harsh ; and Johnson's 
 interpretation is the same. 1 would read as follows : 
 " As thick as bale, 
 " Came post with post." 
 " As thick as [bale] grief, Sorrows, miseries, come 
 upon us weak mortals." By this reading the passage 
 acquires ,/bree. B. 
 
 Mac. Give me your favor : — my dull brain wa? 
 wrought 
 With things forgotten. 
 
86 MACBETH. ACT' I. 
 
 -my dull braii) was wrought 
 
 With things forgotten- ] 
 
 My hc-iid was worked, agitated, put info commotion. John. 
 (( With things forgotten." 1 know not by what figure 
 of speech, by what kind of argument, a man can be said 
 to employ his thoughts on forgotten things : unless, 
 indeed, b\ forgotten w« aieto understand old, pml , iht- things 
 which every other person had banished from his memory. 
 But this was not the case wilb Macbeth. On the con- 
 trary, he was pondeiing on things present or to come. I 
 would therefore read forlotten, i. e. miserable, calamitous. 
 This agrees with his immediately preceding reflection : 
 
 Present fears, 
 Are less than horrible imaginings, &,c. B. 
 
 Mac. Think upon what hath chane'd ; and, at 
 more time, 
 The interim having weigh 'd it, let us speak 
 Our free hearts each to other. 
 
 The interim having weigh' d if.] This intervening portion of 
 time is almost personified : it is represented as a cool impar- 
 tial judge; as the pauser reason. Steev. 
 
 Mr. Steevens is mistaken. Macbeth does not say, 
 that the interim is to weigh the matter, but that they are 
 to weigh the business during the interim. The construc- 
 tion is — " We, in the interim, having pondered on what 
 hath chanced." B. 
 
 Mac. Your highness' part 
 Is to receive our duties : and our duties 
 Are to your throne and state, children, and ser- 
 vants ; 
 Which do but what they should, by doing every 
 
 thing 
 Safe toward your love and honor. 
 
 Which do but what they should, by doing every thing 
 
 Safe toward your love and honor.] 
 Of the last line of this speech, which is certainly, as it is 
 now read, unintelligible, an emendation has been attempted, 
 
SCENE IV. MACBETH. 87 
 
 which Dr. Warhurton and Mr. Theobald once admitted as 
 the true reading : 
 
 " our duties 
 
 " Are to your throne and state, children and servants, 
 
 " Which do but what they should, in doing every thing, 
 
 '* l'itfs to your love and honor. 
 My esteem tor these critics inclines me to believe that they 
 cannot be much pleased with these expressions fiefs to love, or 
 firfs to honor, and that they have proposed this alteration 
 lather because no other occurred to them, than because they 
 approved of it. I shall therefore propose a bolder change, 
 perhaps with no better success, but sua cuique placent. \ 
 read thus : 
 
 " our duties 
 
 " Arc to your throne and state, children and servants, 
 
 " Which do but what they should, in doing nothing, 
 
 " Save toward your love and honor. 
 We do but perform our duty when we contract all our views 
 to your service, when we act with no other principle than 
 regard to your love and honor. 
 
 Ic is probable that this passage was first corrupted by wri- 
 ting safe for save, and the lines then stood thus : 
 
 " ■ — doing nothing 
 
 " Sate toward your love and honor, 
 which the next transcriber observing to be wrong, and yet 
 not being able to discover the real fault, altered to the present 
 reading. 
 
 Dr. Warburton has since changed fiefs to fief'd ; and 
 Hanmer has altered safe, to shap'd. I am afraid none of u» 
 have hit the riijht word. John. 
 
 Safe toward you love and honor.] 
 Safe {]. e. saved) toward you love and honor ; 
 and th»n the sense will be — "Our duties are your children, 
 and servants or vassals to your throne and state ; who do but 
 what they should, by doing every thins with a saving of their 
 love and honor toward you." '1 he whole is an allusion to the 
 forms of doing homage in the feudal times. The oath of 
 allegiance, or Urge homage, to the king was absolute and with- 
 out any exception ; but simple homage, when done to a sub- 
 ject for lands holden of him, was always with a saving of the 
 allegiance (the love and honor) due to the sovereign. " Sauf 
 la joy que jeo doy a nostre siignor le roy,'* as it is in Little- 
 ton. And though the expression be sonv what stiff and 
 forced, it is not more so than many others in thi%.play, and 
 .suits well with the situation of Macbeth, now beginning to 
 waver in his allegiance, For, as our author elsewhere says, 
 
88 MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 " When love begins to sic ken and dceav, 
 " It usetb ;ui ( nforc.d cVrcmpny." Rl.ack'st. 
 
 The following passage in Cii/.iil's Revenge, a Comedy by 
 ]>< auinont and Il< teller, adds some support to Sir William 
 Blackstone's emendation : 
 
 " I'll speak it freely, always my obedience 
 " And love preserved unto the prince." 
 So also do the following words spoken by Henry, Duke of 
 Lancaster, to King Richard II. at their interview in the Castle 
 of Flint (a passage that Shakspeare certainly had read, and 
 probably rememben d) : "My sovereign lovde and kyng, the 
 cause of my coining at this present is [i/onr honor sailed,] 
 to have a raine restitution of my person, my landes, and heri- 
 tage, through your favourable licence. ,J Jiolinshed's Chron. 
 vol. II. XX. Cul. i. a. Mal. 
 
 " Safe toward your love and honor." I am of opinion 
 tliat " safe tow'rd," has been printed in mistake for 
 safeguard. I read : 
 
 " our duties 
 
 " Are to your throne and state, children and servants, 
 " Which do but what tley should in doing every thing : 
 " Your safeguards, love and honor." 
 i.e. "our love and honor will ever be your protector or 
 safeguard." B. 
 
 Lady Mac. They met me in the day of success ; 
 and I have learned by the perjectest report, they 
 have more in them than mortal knoxcledge. 
 
 — by the perfected report.'] By the best intelligence. Dr. 
 Warburton would ret.d, perfected, and explains report by 
 prediction. Little regard can be paid to an emendation that, 
 instead of clearing the sense, makes it more difficult. John. 
 
 " By the perfectest report." Warburton's reading is 
 most assuredly right. What intelligence could Macbeth 
 gather concerning the witches, which might be said to 
 amoirht to any thing touching their supernatural powers, 
 or acquaintance with tilings to come: that is, as immediately 
 respecting himself? By " perfected report," he means 
 that he is now well assured of their having more than 
 mortal knowledge, because what they had prophesied was 
 come to pass: their report was perfected, lie had been 
 hailed by missives from the king Thane of Candor, 
 as they (the witches) had foretold he should be. B. 
 
SCENE V. MACBETH. 8$ 
 
 Lady Mac. Come, you spirits 
 That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here ; 
 And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full 
 Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, 
 Stop up the access and passage to remorse ; 
 That no compunctious visitings of nature 
 Shake my fell purpose; nor keep peace between 
 The effect, and it ! 
 
 nor keep peace between 
 
 The effect, and it ! 
 The intent of Lady Macbeth evidently is to wish that no 
 womanish tenderness, or conscientious reiporse, may hinder 
 her purpose from proceeding to effect ; bin neither this, nor 
 indeed any other sense, is expressed by the present reading, 
 and then hire it cannot be doubled that Shakspeare wrote 
 differently, perhaps thus : 
 
 " That no compunctious visitings of nature 
 " Shake my fell purpose, nor keep pace between 
 " The effect and it. — " 
 To keep pace, btticeen, may signify to pass between, to inter- 
 vene. Pace is on many occasions a favorite of Shakspeare 's. 
 This phrase is indeed not usual-. in' this sense; but was it not 
 its novelty that gave occasion to the present corruption? 
 John. 
 
 The sense is, that no compunctious visitings of nature may 
 prevail upon her, to give place in her mind to peaceful thoughts, 
 or to rest one moment in quiet, from the hour of her purpose 
 to-its full completion .in the effect. Uf.visal. 
 
 This Writer thought himself perhaps very sagacious that 
 he found a meaning which nobody missed ; the difficulty still 
 remains how such a meaning is made by the words. John. 
 " Nor keep peace between 
 " The effect and it." 
 I do not think that either Warburton or Johnson have 
 given the sense of the passage. A slight alteration seems 
 necessary. Head : 
 
 " Nor keep peace between 
 " The effecting it." 
 Lady Macbeth would say : "Let me not be at peace, 
 while my design is unexecuted : " by which it is insinua- 
 
90 MACBETH, ACT I. 
 
 ted, that were her bosom once at rest, she might possibly 
 abandon her purpose — she might forego her intentions 
 were there even but a momentary calm. The expression 
 " peace between the effecting it," is certainlv inaccurate, 
 but easily understood. The construction, I say, is bad ; 
 but we must not always look lor the syntactical in Shak- 
 speare. B. 
 
 Lady Mac. Come, thick night, 
 And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! 
 That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; 
 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 To cry, Hold, hold! 
 
 Come thick night, &c] A similar invocation is found in A 
 Warning for j aire Women, 15 OQ » a tragedy which was cer- 
 tainly pvior to Macbeth : 
 
 ** Oh sable night, sit on the eye of heaven, 
 " 'I hat it discern not this black deed ot darkness ! 
 " My guilty soul, burnt with lust's hateful fire, 
 " Must wade through blood to obtain my vile desire : 
 " Be then my coverture thick ugly night .' 
 " The light hates me, and 1 do hate the litfht." Mal. 
 " Come, thick night," 3cc. This passage is unintelli- 
 gible, partly owing to corruption, and partly to misplace- 
 ment of the words. To make Heaven peep through a 
 blanket, is, to say as little as possible in its disfavor, 
 highly ridiculous ; for as Dr. Warburton has observed, 
 though the language of Shakspeare is frequently faulty, 
 and without regard to grammar-rule, his expression is at 
 no time nonsensical. The corruptions, I think, are these : 
 " peep * in mistake for deep; and " blanket'* for blench 
 at. I correct the whole as follows : . 
 
 " Come, thick night ; 
 ; ' And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell : 
 l( That Heaven see not the wound my keen knife makes, 
 " Deep through thy dark, nor blench at it to cry 
 " Hold, hold ! " 
 
 ' Dark" is used for darkness. So that Heavan"see 
 not" — "deep thro' thy dark," i.e. "See not the deep 
 wound of my knife, favored by thy darkness." " Nor 
 blench at it/' i. e. " Nor even start, shrink, or be alarmed 
 
SCENE VI. MACBETH. <J1 
 
 at sight of [it] the knife ; so as to cry hold, hold /" ' Blenck 
 at,' written perhaps by a careless transcriber Blenk at, 
 was by the printer mistaken for Blanket As to what I 
 have supposed m regard to the jumbling of the words, no 
 one who has examined the earlier editions will hesitate to 
 pronoun-e the conjecture probable. It is impossible that 
 the text should be right. 13. 
 
 Lady Mac. Thy letters have transported me 
 beyond 
 This ignorant present, and I feel now 
 The future in the instant. 
 
 ■ present time, ■ 
 
 The word time isjvanting in the old copy. It was supplied by 
 Mr. Pope, and perhaps without necessity, as our author omits 
 it in the first scene >>i the Tempest ; " It you can command these 
 elements to silence, and work the peace ol the present, we will 
 not hand a rope more." StEEV. 
 
 ' This ignorant present lime.' ' Work the peace of the 
 present,' is not — " work the peace of the present time" 
 as Mr. Steevens supposes ; but, ■" bring about peace 
 quickly : bring it at once" We must read ' O' the pre- 
 sent.' 15. 
 
 King. The air 
 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses. 
 
 Unto uur gentle senses!] 
 How odd a character is this of the air that it could recommend 
 itself to all the senses, not excepting the sight and hearing? 
 Without doubt, we should read; 
 Unto our general sense, 
 meaning the touch or feeling ; which not being confined to one 
 part, like the rest of the senses, but extended over the whole 
 body, the poet, by a fine periphrasis, calls the general sense. 
 Therefore by the air v recommending itself nimbly and sweetly 
 must be understood that it was clear and soft, which proper- 
 ties recreated the fibres, and assisted their \ibration. And 
 surely it was a good circumstance in the air of Scotland that \i 
 
92 MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 was soft and warn : and this circumstance he would recom- 
 mend, as appears from the following words : 
 
 This guest of summer, 
 
 The- ti mplc-haunting martlet, 
 
 General has been corrupted to gentle once again in this very 
 play. Act III. scene v. W.arr. 
 
 Senses are nothing more than each 7nan's sense. Gentle sense 
 is very elegant, as it means placid", calm, composed, and- inti- 
 mates the peaceable delight of a fine day. John. 
 
 There is no necessity for Dr. Warburton's alteration. 
 As to Dr. Johnson's explanation of the present reading, it 
 is no way satisfactory. 1 read, 
 
 The air 
 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself: — 
 Gentle unto our sense. 
 i. e. Soft, bland, pleasing to the sense. B. 
 
 Mac. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 
 'twere well 
 It were done quickly : If the assassination 
 Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 
 With his surcease, success ; that hut this blow 
 Might be the be-all and the end-all here, 
 But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — 
 We'd jump the life to come. — But, in these cases, 
 We still have judgment here ; that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor : This even-handed justice 
 Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 To our own lips. He's here in double trust: 
 First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
 Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, 
 Who should against his murderer shut the door, 
 Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan 
 Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
 So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
 
>CENE VII. MACBETH. 93 
 
 Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, against 
 The deep damnation of his taking-oil*: 
 And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
 Striding the blast, or heaven's chernbin, hors'd 
 Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
 That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself, 
 And falls on the other. 
 
 If it were dune, S,-c. 
 A man of learning n commends another punctuation : 
 If it were clone, when 'tis done, then 'twere well. 
 It were done quickly, if, &c. Joiin t . 
 
 f If it were done, when 'tis done,' &c. The beginning 
 of the speech, I think, should be broken and abrupt : with 
 some little transposition of the words. 1 therefore propose 
 to read, 
 
 ' If it were done : — ' IVere well it were done quickly, 
 
 But then when 'tis done ! — If the assassination,' &.c. 
 
 If it were done? This seems as though lie were about to 
 ask himself what would probably be the consequence of 
 committing the murder. But fearing to question himself 
 further, he thinks to shake off all horrors by saying — 
 * Twere well it were done quickly:' i. e. ' it will not admit 
 of pause'—' 1 should perhaps, in such a state, relent.' Then 
 again, as if overtaken by remorse, he exclaims — ' But then 
 when 'tis done!' Meaning that when the blow is once 
 given, repentance will be vain. All this abruptness is 
 highly natural to a man in the state of mind in which Mac- 
 beth is represented. He afterwards becomes more col- 
 lected and enters into a cool and rational investigation of 
 the crime in question. He tlien is seemingly proposing to 
 draw some conclusion from his arguments when he is in- 
 terrupted by the entrance of Lady Macbeth. B. 
 
 If the assassination* 
 
 Of this soliloquy the meaning is not very clear; I have never 
 found the readers of Shakspeare agreeing about it. I under- 
 stand it thus: 
 
94t MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 " If that which I am about to do, when it is once done and 
 executed, were done and ended without any following effects, it 
 would then be best to do it quickly ; if the murder could ter- 
 minate in itself, and restrain the regular course of consequences, 
 if its success could secure its surcease, if being once done suc- 
 cessfully, without detection, it could fix a period to all ven- 
 geance and enquiry, so that this blow might be all that I have to 
 do, and this anxiety all that I have to suffer; if this could be 
 my condition, even here in this world, in this contracted period 
 of temporal existence, on this narrow bank in the ocean of 
 eternity, I would jump the life to come, I would venture upon 
 the deed without care of any future state. But this is one of 
 these cases, in which judgment is pronounced and vengeance 
 inflicted upon us here, in our present life. We teach others to 
 do as we have done, and arc punished by our own example." 
 
 John. 
 With his surcease, success ;■ 
 I think the reasoning requires that we should read : 
 
 With its success surcease. John. 
 
 shoal of time, 1 
 
 This is Theobald's' emendation, undoubtedly right. The old 
 edition has school, and Dr. Warburton shelve. John. 
 
 ' If the assassination,' &c. Johnson has observed of 
 these lines that " the meaning is not very clear.'* This is 
 certainly true, but, in my opinion, his explication of the 
 passage is open to objection. He is evidently wrong in 
 reading ' with his success surcease,' — while the sense of 
 'jump the life to come/ is wholly mistaken by him, asitis 
 likewise by all the Commentators. Some little alteration 
 is necessary. For ' assassination/ then, I would substitute 
 assassinator, restoring the ' school' of the old edition ; 
 which, except that it should be used participially, is un- 
 questionably right. ' Bank and shoal,' are terms, which 
 in speaking of time, cannot well be understood: but 'bank/ 
 when applied to ' here,' i. e. the earth on which we dwell, 
 is sufficiently easy ; and the same may be observed of 
 * school'd of time/ which w ill signify taught or corrected 
 by time. ' Of is by. I regulate and interpret as follows — 
 1 If the assassinator 
 Could trammel up the consequence, and catch 
 With its surcease success : that but this blow 
 Might be the be-all and the end-all here : 
 But here — upon this bank, and school'd of time, 
 We'd jump the life to come.' 
 " If the murderer could put a stop or hindrance to the 
 
SCENE VII. MACBETH. 95 
 
 probable consequence of his act, and could he, from that 
 
 • surcease,' from that let or hindrance, * catch success/ 
 that is, could he gain the worldly advantages he is in search 
 of, all would be well." — He then continues his reasoning — 
 
 * that but this blow' &c. " Were every thing to end with 
 this life, — why then, in such event, we might freely give 
 the blow of death : aye, and * upon this bank,' this little 
 spot : and ■ school'd of time,' i. e. taught by time to divest 
 ourselves of first feelings, to drive away all compunctious 
 visitings of nature; — we might ever after, that is, during 
 the remainder of our days, be thoroughly happy." B. 
 
 We'd jump the fife to come. 
 So, in Cymbclaie, act V. sc. iv. 
 
 M vrjitmp the aftti -enquiry on your own peril." 
 
 I suppose the meaning to be — We would over-leap, we would 
 make no account of the life to come. Stef.v. 
 
 1 We'd jump the life to come.' ' Life to come,' does 
 not here mean a future stale, but that portion of our earthly 
 existence which is to come. Macbeth would insinuate 
 that if everv thing was to terminate with this life, he might 
 
 O JO 
 
 commit the murder without a pause, and jump, i. e. dance 
 or be gay, for the remainder of his days. 
 
 That this is the true sense of the passage a very little 
 consideration will shew. For if the i.ditors by ' jump the 
 life to come/ would understand that we may plunge into 
 eternity, the words are impertinent : they tell us nothing 
 but what we know ; — while no kind of coyiclusion is found. 
 And if they suppose the expression to signify jump over, 
 or escape from a life to come, it is impious, and such as 
 the atheist alone could admit. B. 
 
 This even handed justice] 
 Our port, apis Matinee mart modoque, would stoop to borrow 
 a sweet from any flower, howevi rhumbhe ia its situation. 
 
 * 4 The pricke of conscience [says llolinshcd) caused him eve 
 t« feaie, l< st he should be served of the same cup as he had 
 ministered to hU predecessor.'' Steev. 
 
 ' But in these cases 
 We still have judgment here : that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which Deing taught, return 
 To plague the inventor.' — 
 To ' teach instructions? is a barbarism : it is not Eng- 
 lish, and could scarcely proceed from the pen of Shak- 
 apeare. — I therefore wiite inductions, and in the sense of 
 rudiments, or Jirst elements (if the lauguage may be admit- 
 ted) of crime. The seuse is this — 
 
96 MACBETH. ACT I h 
 
 " But yet I err, I reason fallaciously ; for such is the 
 nature of our conscience, that we are condemned by it, we 
 suffer even he>e : and that too, in merely teaching, in lead- 
 ing to the commission of crimes, in barely laying down 
 rules for the exercise of ill." 1>. 
 
 Or heaven's cherubin hors'd 
 
 Llpon the sight less. couriers of the aii\] 
 But the cherubin is the courier • so that he can't be said to be 
 nors'd upon another courier. We must read, therefore, cour- 
 sers. Warb. 
 
 Courier is only runner. Couriers of air are zvinds, air .in 
 motion. Sight/ess is invisible. John. 
 
 That tears shall dnnvn the rcind 
 
 Aliuding to the remission of the wind in a shower. John. 
 
 " And pity like a naked new-born babe, 
 Striding the blast, or heaven's cheiubin, hors'd 
 Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
 That tears shall drown the wind.' — 
 This passage according to all the printed copies appears 
 extreme!} faulty. The images presented to us by pity like 
 a new-born naked babe striding a blast; and by blowing a 
 deed in every eye, have more of the ludicrous than the affect- 
 ing in them, and should not here find place. , Transpo- 
 sition of the lines is necessary, with a change in some of 
 the words: and which I therefore make as follows : — 
 And new-born pity naked like a babe, 
 Or heaven's cherubin hoist 
 Upon the coursers of the sightless air, 
 Shall blow the horrid deed, with strident blast, 
 That everichene intiers, shall drown the wind. 
 All who are acquainted with old language, and who have 
 attended to Shakspeare's practice of adopting foreign 
 words, will see that I am right. Everichene [every one] 
 was mistaken by the transcriber or printer for every eyne — 
 eyne being formerly used for eyes. ' Intiers' is the French 
 intiers, i. e. entirely : as 1 have shewn in another place 
 where in tears occurs instead of it. 
 
 Macbeth speaks uot of pity resembling a naked 7iew- 
 born babe, but of pity new-born ; as something more than 
 common ; in a word, of pity of a higher nature (if the ex- 
 pression may be allowed to me) in allusion to the ato- 
 ciousness of the act he then is meditating. ' Naked' is 
 
SCENE VII. MACBETH. 97 
 
 simple, pure. ' Hoist' for hoisted, placed. * Coursers' I 
 conceive to be clouds. He says, that true, unsophisticated 
 pity, and the cherubim combined, shall f blow,' that is, 
 publish or proclaim the horrid deed with ' strident blast/ 
 i. e. with loud exclamation : — so loud ; that [everichene,] 
 every one, every blast, shall f_ f intiers,'] entirely, wholly 
 drown the wind. B. 
 
 no spur, &c] 
 
 The spur of the occasion is a phrase used by Lord Bacon. 
 
 Steev. 
 
 And falls on the other 
 
 Hanmcr has on this occasion added a word which every reader 
 cannot fail to add for himself. He would give ; 
 
 And falls on the other side. 
 But the state of Macbeth's mind is more strongly marked by 
 this break in the speech, than by any continuation of it which 
 the most successful critic can supply. Steev. 
 ' I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself, 
 And falls on the other.' 
 This monologue is replete with difficulties. The 
 Editors have uniformly printed these lines as above, and as 
 if they understood them. But what it is to " prick the 
 sides of an intent," seems not very easy to tell : and as for 
 u vaulting ambition over-leaping itself, and tumbling on 
 the other side" — the expression, if not absolutely nonsen- 
 sical, presents to us a most ridiculous image. ' Intent,' is, 
 I think, contracted, (inten't) inteiiant, which word is of the 
 same import as inmate, now in use (Lodger, guest.) ' Spur* 
 is incentive, impeller. 1 would read as under — 
 " I have no spur, 
 To prick the sides of my inteiiant, but only 
 Vaulting ambition which falls on itself 
 And o'er-leaps the other." 
 This reading may by some be thought rugged, the ear 
 not being accustomed to the word inteiiant. But rugged- 
 ness is common with Shakspeare and must not be objected 
 to, when, in consequence of it, any meaning can possibly be 
 elicited, which surely is not the case as the passage now 
 stands. In what I have proposed, and merely by the aid 
 of transposition, there is consistency, while all is perfectly 
 in unison with the reasoning that had gone before. The 
 sense of the whole is this — u I have nothing that should 
 impel, or hurry me on to this deed (" to prick the sides of 
 Shak. I. G 
 
98 MACBETH. ACT I. 
 
 my inten't,") to murder my guest, my inmate, but only a 
 strained ambition (" which falls on" J which assaults the 
 object, ( that object whom it envies, and whose place and 
 dignity it aspires to) — " itself " — that is — it trusts not the 
 business to an agent, and by such practice " o'er-leaps the 
 other" — i. e. he gains the desired advantage — the man 
 who was the bar to his greatness is leaped over. " 
 
 This order of the words which gives — " o'erleaps the 
 other," (the adversary, the opposing person) instead of the 
 reading — " falls on the other side," — may yet further be 
 proved as right, by attending to the expression made use 
 of by the Thane in a former scene. — Duncan says, 
 11 We will establish our estate upon 
 Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter 
 The Prince of Cumberland." 
 Macbeth on hearing this exclaims — 
 
 " The Prince of Cumberland ! That is a step, 
 
 On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap. (aside.) 
 
 " To prick the sides of his inmate" — to express kill or 
 destroy him, is no doubt quaint and affected ; but I am 
 persuaded that the language is such as the Poet would be 
 likely to employ. Thus we find in Othello — " 1 thought 
 to have jerk'd him underneath the ribs" (i. e. stab him) — 
 (C Might his quietus make with a bare bodkin" (i. e. kill 
 himself.) These are perfectly analogous, and so of 
 others which it is unnecessary to adduce. 
 
 It may be further observed that the expression stab in the 
 side, appears to be used as marking more particularly a vital 
 part. — ' Prick the side,' is as though he should say stab to 
 the heart. In like manner Virgil — Haeret lateri lethalis 
 arundo — and which Dryden has translated, 
 
 the fatal dart 
 
 Sticks in his side, and rankles in his heart. 
 
 Again, and with regard to intenant — which I suppose 
 to have been written inten't — it should be remembered that 
 elision, or the contraction of words, is frequent with our 
 earlier writers, and that much obscurity has thence arisen. 
 In Anthony and Cleopatra for instance (a single one may 
 suffice) support is printed sport, — no doubt from its having 
 been originally contracted into s'port. Anthony is dying, 
 and Cleopatra calls out to him," here's support" — that is — 
 in her arms, (see my note on the passage.) Johnson who 
 reads, with all the commentators, sport,— talks of the 
 
SCENE VII. MACBETH. 99 
 
 word as being a strange one. It would indeed be such, 
 were that in fact the Queen's expression, but [t is certainly 
 strange, that it should for a moment be so understood of 
 her: and on observing these things, as also the want of 
 attention to the propriety of situation and chaiacter, one 
 is almost tempted to exclaim in the style of Mr. 1 heobald 
 on other occasions — Sagacious Editors! what a blessed 
 reading is here ! B. 
 
 Lady Mac* Was the hope drunk, 
 Wherein you dre^t yourself? hath it slept since ? 
 And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
 At what it did so freely ? 
 
 ' Was the hope drunk, 
 
 Wherein you chest yourself? hath it slept since ? 
 
 And wakes it now to look so green and pale 
 
 At what it did so freely r' 
 This is bad coloring. 1 he tints are by no means 
 suited to personified hope ; at least it niav be so averred 
 of green, whatever may be urged in defence of ' pale.' 
 For ' so green,' 1 read ' so dreeu,' the old word for vex a- 
 tio/i, sorrow — pointing the passage differently, and substi- 
 tuting bid in place of did. I reject the first mentioned 
 epithet in the full persuasion that Shakspeare could at no 
 time depict the goddess as she is shewn in the text. Head/ 
 
 ' And wakes it now to look so dreen and pule, 
 
 At what it. bid so freely ?' 
 The sense of the whole is this — ' Has hope been sleep- 
 ing and does she now awake in vexation and sorrow, 
 ' pale,' affrighted, alarmed at the thought of that which she 
 had before so particularly recommended to be done ?' 
 
 Thus, while hope cannot possibly be said ' to look 
 green.' she may certainly be described (the enormity of 
 what she had proposed to herself having been duly reflect- 
 ed on) as being uneasy, or dejected. I have altered ' end' 
 into bid, because the character in question cannot be spoken 
 of as possessing power, and consequently nothing can pro- 
 perly be. said to be dune by her. Nor however many her 
 pretensions may be, can she ever make good her claims. 
 Hope is merely an expectant, and if any right is safely to 
 be pronounced as belonging to her, it must be considered 
 
100 MACEKTH. ACT I, 
 
 as only in reversion : her very nature at the same time un- 
 dergoing a change. B. 
 
 Lady Mac. Art thou afraid 
 To be the same in thine own act and valor, 
 As thou art in desire ? Would'st thou have that 
 Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, 
 And live a coward in thine own esteem ? 
 Letting I dare not wait upon I would, 
 Like the poor cat i' the adage. 
 
 Would'st thou have that, 
 
 Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, 
 And live a coward in thine own esteem ? 
 In this there seems to be no reasoning. I should read : 
 
 Or live a coward in thine own esteem ? 
 Unless we choose rather: 
 
 Jf'ould thou leave that. John". 
 
 ' Would'st thou have that, &c.' The reasoning (or 
 rather tio reasoning} is precisely the same when the note 
 of interrogation is placed as recommended by Steevens. 
 ' Have that' — ' and live' is evidently wrong, because the 
 expressions are used in a positive sense, that "he (Macbeth) 
 having ' the ornament of life,' must, by consequence, live a 
 coward" — which is totally adverse to what is meant to be 
 urged by the speech. Lady Macbeth has asked her hus- 
 band, 
 
 ' Art thou afraid, 
 To be the same in thine own act and valor, 
 As thou art in desire V 
 The lines immediately following these are only employ- 
 ed by her as a further enforcement to the proposed deed, 
 and by the same kind of argument as before. I would 
 therefore read, 
 
 * Would'st thou crave [simply wish for] that, &c.' 
 i. e. " Would'st thou continue wishing when thou should'st 
 act and [thus] live a coward," &c. ? The note of interroga- 
 tion should be at ' adage/ B. 
 
 Macb. I am settled, and bend up 
 Each corporal agent to this terrible feat, 
 ' ■ and bend up\ 
 
ACT II. SCENE I. MACBETH. 101 
 
 A metaphor from the bow. So, in King Henry V. act III. 
 8C. i. 
 
 *' bend up every spirit 
 " To his full height." Stkev. 
 — ( And bend up.' I consider bend up in this place, as 
 used in the sense of bind to, constrain. We cannot talk of 
 bending up a bow. Bende in Chaucer is Bond. B. 
 
 Ban. This diamond he greets your wife withal, 
 By the name of most kind hostess ; and shut up 
 In measureless content. 
 
 ■ shut up] 
 
 To shut up, is to conclude. Steev. 
 
 Shut up 
 
 In measureless content..'] Mr. Steevens says, that to 
 shut up is to conclude : Shut up in, however, is given up 
 to — enjoying. 
 " My soul hath her content so absolute," Stc. Othello, 
 
 Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, when 
 'tis, 
 It shall make honor for you. 
 
 If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,] 
 Consent for will. So that the sense of the line is, If you shall 
 go into my measures when I have determined of them, or when 
 the time comes that I want your assistance. Warb. 
 
 If you shall cleave, &c] 
 Macbeth expresses his thought with affected obscurity ; ha 
 does not mention the royalty, though he apparently had it in 
 his mind. If you shall cleave to my consent, if you shall con- 
 cur with me when I determine to accept the crown, when 'tis, 
 when that happens which the prediction promises, it shall make 
 honor for you. John. 
 
 Such another expression occurs in lord Surrey's translation 
 of the second book of Virgil 's JEneid : 
 
 " And if thy will stick unto mine, I shall 
 " In wedlocked sure knit, and make her his own." 
 When 'tis, means when 'tis my leisure to talk with you on this 
 business ; referring to what Bunquo had just said, at your kiwi* 
 est leisure. 
 
102 MACBETH. ACT II. 
 
 Macbeth could never mean to give Ranquo at this time the 
 most distant or obscure hint of his design upon the crown. 
 
 Steev. 
 
 ' Cleave to my consent.' The proper word, 1 think, 
 will be ' convent/ i.e. convention. If you are willing to 
 unite with me and my adherents when 1 summon you— 
 ' zc/.en 7?V— <-t. e when the business is to be considered, 
 says Macl e.ih, it shall be to your advantage. Mr. Stee- 
 vens is totally wrong iri saying that ''Macbeth could not 
 mean to give Banquo the most distant or obscure hint of 
 his design on the down." Nothing can be clearer than 
 the hint he gives him ; and it is certain bv the answer which 
 Banquo makes that he understood his fellow warrior per- 
 fectly : His concluding words — ' I will be counseU'd,' 
 points the more particularly to ' convent 1 as being the ex=* 
 piession made use of by Macbeth. B. 
 
 Macb, I see thee still ; 
 
 And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood, 
 Which was not so before. — There's no such thing : 
 It is the bloody business, which informs 
 Thus to mine eyes. 
 
 And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood,] 
 Certainly, ii on the blade, then on the dudgeon ; for dudgeon 
 signifies a sn;all dagger. We should read therefore: 
 And on the blade of th* dudgeon, — Ware. 
 
 ' 1 see thee still ; 
 And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood.' 
 To make Macbeth speak of the haft of the dagger as 
 being spotted with blood, were to weaken the expression 
 greatly. War bur ton is right in his objection to ' blade and 
 dudgeon,' but as the dagger is addressed (' I see thee still') 
 his alteration 'blade of thedagger'is faulty, for thestrength 
 of the image is nearly destroyed. We should no doubt 
 read, 
 
 * And on thy blade, vain dudgeon, gouts of blood ! 
 'Vain 7 in the sense of unreal, shadowy; (the latin vanus) 
 or it may have been written ' Fade,' illusive, deceitful, 
 (Vadeie Lat. to fade, to vanish.) But the reading ' vain 
 dudgeon' should perhaps be preferred, as the cacophany 
 (vade blade) is then avoided. B. 
 
SCENE I. MACBETH. 10$ 
 
 Macb. Wither'd murder 
 
 Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 
 
 Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthjr 
 pace, 
 
 With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his de- 
 sign 
 
 Moves like a o-host. 
 
 -witlier'd murder, 
 
 -thus with his stealthy pace, 
 
 With Tarquin's ravishing sides towards his desigtt 
 
 Moves like a ghost. ] 
 
 This was the reading of this passage in all the editions before 
 that of Mr. Pope, who for sides inserted in the text strides, 
 which ?>Ir. Theobald has tacitly copied from him, though a 
 more proper alteration might perhaps have been made. A 
 ravishing stiide is an action of violence, impetuosity, and tu- 
 mult, like that of a savage rushing on his prey ; whereas the 
 poet is here attempting to exhibit an image of secrecy and cau- 
 tion, of anxious circumspection and guilty timidity, the stealthy 
 pace of a ravisher creeping into the chamber of a virgin, and of 
 an assassin approaching the bed of him whom he proposes to 
 murder, without awaking him ; these he describes as ?novi»g like 
 ghosts, whose progression is so different from strides, that it has 
 been in all ages represented to be as Milton expresses it : 
 
 " Smooth sliding without step." 
 This hemistich will afford the true reading of this place, which 
 is, I think, to be corrected thus: 
 
 and wither'd murder, 
 
 ■ — thus with his .stealthy pace, 
 
 With Tarquin ravishing, slides tow'rds his design, 
 
 Moves like a ghost. 
 Tarquin is in this place the general name of a ravisher, and the 
 sense is: Now is the time in which every one is asleep, but 
 those who are employed in wickedness ; the witch who is 
 sacrificing to Hecate, and the ravisher, and the murderer, who 
 likr me, are stea:ing upon their prey. 
 
 When the reading is thus adjusted, he wishes with great pro- 
 pi iety, in the following lines, that the earth may not hear his 
 steps. Joiix t . 
 
 With Tarquin's ravishing strides, ] 
 
 The justness of this similitude is not very obvious. Warb. 
 ' Wither'd murder,' &c. The passage is evidently cor- 
 
104 MACBETH. ACT II. 
 
 rupt. I therefore change the first ' with' to while : read, 
 ' ravishing Tarquin' — also ' sides' according to the old . 
 copy, and aghast instead of ' a ghost.' The whole will 
 run thus — 
 
 ' Wither'd murder, 
 
 Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 
 
 Whose howl's his watch, —thus, (while his stealthy 
 pace, 
 
 With ravishing Tarquin's sides) towards his design 
 
 Moves like aghast. 
 
 ' Sides' is used in the sense of a&ree zcith or correspond 
 to. The word was chosen by the Poet because ' like' 
 occurs immediately after. It should be observed, that the 
 construction is not that the murderer ' moves like aghast,' 
 but that be ■moves like Tarquin. This, however, is not to 
 be understood as speaking of action : but that he was in, 
 the state or condition of the man alluded to. Shakspeare 
 perhaps would have written — ' alike aghast' (which had 
 been clearer,) but that alike and aghast create an ugly kind 
 of cacophony ; and which is now avoided. The explana- 
 tion is as follows. " The Murderer advances with cautious 
 step, the same as that of the ravisher Tarquin, and is, like 
 him, aghast or terrified at thought of the crime he is about 
 to perpetrate. 
 
 It is remarked by Dr Johnson that ' the progression of 
 a ghost is not by strides.' That strides is not the proper word 
 is unquestionable. There is reason to think, however^ 
 that the learned annotator was no more acquainted with 
 the movements of a ghost, than is the present Editor. B. 
 
 Mac, Thou sure and firm-set earth, 
 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for 
 
 fear 
 Thy very stones prate of my where-about, 
 And take the present horror from the time, 
 Which now suits with it. 
 
 -Thou sound and firm-set earth,] 
 
 is the reading of the modern editors; but though that of the 
 folio is conupt, it will direct us to the true one* 
 Thou sowre and firm-set earth, 
 
SCENE II. MACBETH. 105 
 
 is evidently wrong, but brings us very near the right wor<3 y 
 which was evidently meant to be : 
 
 'Ihou sure and firm-set earth, 
 
 as lhave inserted it in the text. So, in act IV. sc. iii: 
 
 " Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure." Steev. 
 * Thou sure and linn-set earth, 
 
 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
 
 Thy very stones prate of my whereabout.' 
 
 The Commentators have interpreted the passage wrong. 
 They consider the words ' for fear' in the sense of ' lest.' 
 1 understand the expression differently, and believe the 
 meaning to be " thatjhe stones do actually prate through 
 or from fear." Macbeth hearing his own footsteps is af- 
 frighted at the sound ; at that sound which he calls prating 
 of him and his purposes. This is highly beautiful, as 
 marking the perturbation of the murderer's bosom ; though 
 he at the same time acknowledges that stillness, notwith- 
 standing its being suitable with his intended crime, has 
 horror in it. His thought is all confusion, and sound 
 or silence are equally terrifying to him. With respect to 
 the epithets as applied to the earth, and whether we take 
 ' sound' or * sure,' they are equally feeble. The old copy 
 has ' sowre and firm-set' which, suggests to me the true 
 reading. ' Thou sovrand [sovereign] firm-set earth.' This 
 has force as being expressive of magnificence and solidity. 
 'Hear not my steps,' should be l heed not my steps.' 
 We must point the lines as follows : 
 
 1 Thou sovrand, firm-set earth, 
 
 Heed not my steps, which way they walk. For fear, 
 
 Thy very stones prate of my whereabout.' B. 
 
 Mac. One cry'd God bless us! and Amen the 
 other ; 
 As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands, 
 Listening their fear. 
 
 Listening their fear. I could not say, amen, 
 
 "When they did say, God bless us.] 
 i. c. Listening to their fear, the particle omitted. This is com- 
 mon in our author. Steev. 
 
 ' Listening their fear.' This is according to the Scottish 
 idiom, and is here used with the greatest propriety. B. 
 
106 MACBETH. ACT II. 
 
 Mac. Sleep, that knits up the rareU'd sleaxe of 
 care, 
 The death of each days life,- sore labors bath, 
 Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
 Chief nourisher in life's feast : 
 
 shave ofcan',1 
 
 A skein of silk is called a share of silk, as I learned from Mr. 
 Seward, the ingenious editor of B'-aumont and Fletcher. 
 
 John. 
 
 ' Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care/ ' Balm 
 of hurt minds/ &c. The passage is corrupt. What is to 
 be understood by f a sleave of 'care? 1 think we may read, 
 ttavaiVd slave of care, i. e. one fatigued or worn out by 
 Care. ' Knits up' is the same as our present expression 
 locks up. The word knits has probably induced to the 
 reading of sleeve. It must at the same time be observed, 
 so that there may not be objection to the change I have 
 made, that ' travail'd slave of care,' and balm of ' hurt 
 minds' are not said in reference to a like description of 
 persons. The ' travail'd slave of care' is the man, whose 
 eagerness in the pursuit of fortune or of fame has involved 
 him in troubles, and whose anxieties have consequently 
 their spring, their origin entirely in himself: the ' hurt 
 mind' is spoken of him who suffers from the injury he has 
 received at the hands of others. In a word, the first is he 
 ■who is seen — " in business or in arts to drudge," the 
 second is the unfortunate being who has groaned under the 
 " oppressor's wrongs/' 
 
 The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, &c. 
 In this encomium upon sleep, amongst the many appellations 
 which are given it, significant of its beneficence and friendli- 
 ness to life, we find one which conveys a different idea, and by 
 no means agrees with the rest, which is ; 
 
 r l he death of each day's life, 
 
 I make no question but Shakspeare wrote : 
 
 1 he birth of each day's life, 
 The true characteristic of sleep, which repairs the decays of 
 labor, and assists that returning vigor which supplies the 
 next day's activity. The player-editors seem to have cor- 
 rupted it for the sake of a silly jingle between life and death. 
 
 YVarb. 
 
 I neither perceive the. corruption, nor any necessity for altera- 
 tion. The death of each days life means the end of each day's 
 
SCENE III. MACBETH. 107 
 
 labor, the conclusion of nil that bustle and fatigue that each, 
 day's life brings with it. Stebv. 
 
 " The death of each clay's life." It is very possible 
 that Mr. Steevens n< ilher perceives the corruption of the 
 text, nor the necessity that there is for correct. nn it. There 
 is, however, an absolute necessity for alteration, Sleep 
 is spoken of as being "chief nourisker in life's feast." 
 How then can sleep be called the death of each day's 
 life? There is here a contradiction in terms. As to the 
 birth of life, proposed by Warburton, die expression is 
 faulty. I would read "the breath of each day's life ; "" 
 not as being altogether correct, (since breath and life may 
 be considered as one and the same) but froth " breath" 
 beiuo- used in the sense ot thaP which -causes motion or 
 life. It is still vnlgarly observed of any one suddenly 
 deceased ; there is not a breath >f life in him, instead of 
 barely saying there is no life in him. B. 
 
 Len. Strange screams of death, 
 And prophesying, with accents terrible, 
 Of dire combustion, and confus'd events, 
 New hatched to the woeful time. 
 
 strange screams of death ; 
 
 And propheeuing, uith accents terrible 
 Of du\ combustion, and confus'd events, 
 New hatch'd to the woeful time. 
 The obscure bird clawour'd the live-long night, 
 Some say, the eaith was fev'rous, and did shake.] 
 These lines, I think, should be rathe r regulated ihus : 
 
 " prophecyirtg with accents terrible, 
 
 " Of dire combustion and confus'd events. 
 " New-hatch'd to th' woful time, the obscure bird 
 " Clameur'd th*' live-long night. Some say the earth 
 " Was fev'rous and did shake. 
 A prophecy of an event new-hatch'd seems to be a prophecy of 
 an event past. And a prophecy mw hatch'd is a wry expression. 
 The term new-hatch'd is properly applicable to a bird, and 
 that birds of id omen should be ncw-hatclid to the wojul time, 
 that is, should appear in uncommon numbers, is very consistent 
 with the rest ot the prodigies In re mentioned, and with the 
 universal disorder into which nature is described as thrown by 
 the perpetration of this horrid murder. John. 
 
 I think Dr. Johnson's regulation of these lines is improper. 
 
10S MACBETH. ACT II. 
 
 Prophccyivg is what is vexc-hatch'd, and in the metaphor holds 
 the place of the egg. The events are the fruit of such hatch- 
 ing. Steev. 
 
 " New hatch'd to the woeful time." The occurrence 
 of " bird " seems to have led Johnson into mistake. If 
 the English " hatch'd," were really the poet's word, and as 
 meaning incubated, his regulation of the lines would be 
 right : but I am fully of opinion that it is not ; since with 
 it, the explication will be forced whichever punctuation we 
 may adopt. It would appear, from the context, that the 
 French word hache, which signifies not only cut or minced, 
 but mingled, is here employed. I therefore propose to 
 read : 
 
 " New hach'd to the woeful time," 
 i. e. New mingled to [suit with] the woeful time. This 
 gives a much clearer sense than the present reading, 
 hatch'd or incubated, will in either way afford. B. 
 
 Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had 
 
 don't : 
 Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood, 
 So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found 
 Upon their pillows : they star'd, and were dis* 
 
 tracted ; 
 No man's life was to be trusted with them. 
 
 " Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood, 
 " So were their daggers, which, unwip'd, we found 
 " Upon their pillows : they star'd and were distracted ; 
 "No man's life was to be trusted with them." 
 Something, (a single line, perhaps,) is evidently wanting 
 after " distracted." Judging from the expression : 
 " No man's life could be trusted with them," 
 and from the words of Macbeth : 
 
 " O, yet I do repent me of my fury j" 
 it would be in import as follows : 
 
 tc they star'd, and were distracted." — 
 
 Our valiant Thane sheath'd in their breasts the weapons, 
 " For no man's life was to be trusted with them." B, 
 
 Macb. Here lay Duncan, 
 
SCENE III. MACBETH. 109 
 
 His silver skin lae'd with his golden blood ; 
 And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature, 
 For ruin's wasteful entrance : there the murderers, 
 Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers 
 Unmannerly breech'd with gore : Who could re- 
 frain, 
 That had a heart to love, and in that heart 
 Courage, to make his love known ? 
 
 Here lay Duncan, 
 
 His silver skin iacd -with his golden blood ; 
 And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in naturc y 
 For ruin's wasteful entrance : — ] 
 Mr. Pope has endeavoured to improve one of these lines by 
 substituting goary blood for golden blood ; but it may easily 
 be admitted that he, who could on such an occasion talk of 
 lacing the silver skin, would lace it with golden blood. No 
 amendment can be made to this line, of which every word is 
 equally faulty, but by a general blot. 
 
 It is not improbable, that Shakspearc put these force<l and 
 unnatural metaphors into the mouth of Macbeth as a mark of 
 artifice and dissimulation, to shew the difference between the 
 studied language of hypocrisy, and the natural outcries of 
 sudden passion. This whole speech, so considered, is a re- 
 markable instance of judgment, as it consists entirely of anti- 
 thesis and metaphor. John. 
 
 His silver skin laced with his golden blood ;] 
 The allusion is so ridiculous on such an occasion, that it disco- 
 vers the declaimer not to be affected in the manner he would 
 represent himself. The whole speech is an unnatural mixture 
 of far-fetch'd and common-place thoughts, that shews him to 
 be acting a part. Ware. 
 
 Unmannerly breech'd with gore ; ■ 
 
 An unmannerly dagger and a dagger breech'd, or as in some 
 editions breach' d with gore, are expressions not easily to be un- 
 derstood. There are undoubtedly two faults in this passage, 
 which 1 have endeavoured to take away by reading ; 
 daggers 
 
 Unmanly drench'd with gore :• 
 
 I saw drench'd with the king's blood the fatal daggers, not 
 only instruments of murder, but evidences of cowardice. 
 
 Each of these words might easily be confounded with that 
 which I have substituted for it, by a hand not exact, a casual 
 blot, or a negligent inspection. John. 
 
I 10 MACBETH. ACT in. 
 
 Unmannerly breech'd with gore : 
 
 This nonscusicul account of the state in which the daggers 
 were found must surely be read thus: 
 
 Unmanly reech'd nith gore .] 
 Reech'd, soiled v\ith a dark yellow, which is the color of any 
 tecchy substance, and must be so of steel stain'd with blood, 
 lie uses the word very often, as recchy hangings, recchy neck, 
 &c. So, that the sense is, that they were unmanly stain'd with 
 blood ; and that c ircumstance added, because often such stains 
 are most honorable. Ward. 
 
 Dr. Warburton has, perhaps, rightly put reech'd for 
 breech'd. Johit. 
 
 " Here Jay Duncan," &c. For "laced," I would 
 substitute /ark'd or faic'd, (i. e. lackered,) Lac is the seed- 
 lac or red gum of India; and /acker is described in the 
 books as " a varnish which spread on a white substance 
 exhibits a gold color." This gives precisely the image 
 wanted, and instead of the ridiculous one of a skin laced 
 with blood, and which is justly objected against by War- 
 burton, though he has offered nothing in the way of emen- 
 dation. The word breach, with unmannerly before it, 
 and thrown into a parenthetical exclamation, should be 
 repeated immediately after " nature." The whole may be 
 regulated thus : 
 
 " Here lay Duncan, 
 
 " His silver skin lace'd with his golden blood : 
 " And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature, 
 " (Unmannerly breach !) for ruin's wasteful entrance. — • 
 " There the murderers, steep'd in the colors of their 
 
 trade. 
 " Their daggers reech'd all with gore : Who could re- 
 frain, &C." B. 
 
 JSlac. This I made good to you 
 In our last conference, past in probation with you ; 
 How you were borne in hand. 
 
 past in probation with you ; 
 
 Hon: you utre borne in hand, #c] 
 i.e. past in ]>roving to you, how you were, &c. Mai. 
 
 " — past in probation with you." The sense is mis- 
 taken. Macbeth does not by "probation " mean proving; 
 it is expressed in " this I made good to you." In proba- 
 tion with you (and in reference to times past.) signifies that 
 v hich you have found by experience, that which you have 
 
SCENE I. MACBETH. 1 1 1 
 
 been put to the trial of. ' With' is by as in many old wri- 
 ters : Shakspeare uses in the next page '• tugg'd with for- 
 tune" for tugg'd by fortune. Some lines have been transpo- 
 sed at the press. We may regulate the passage thus : 
 " Have you considered of my speeches r Know, 
 ° That it was he, in the times past, which held you 
 " So under fortune, (past in probation with you) 
 " And which you thought had been our innocent self. — 
 " This [thus much] [ made good to you [prov'd to you] 
 
 at our last conference, 
 *' How you were borne in hand," (i. e. imposed on, &,c.) 
 
 Mac. So is he mine : and in such bloody dis- 
 tance, 
 That every minute of his being thrusts 
 Against my near'st of life. 
 
 in such bloody distance,] 
 Distance, for enmity". Waiib. 
 
 By bloody distance is hero meant, such a distance as mortal 
 «nemies would stand at from each other when their quarrel 
 must be determined by the sword. This sense seems evident 
 from the continuation of the metaphor, where ere/'/ minute of 
 Ms being is represented as thrusting at the nearest part where 
 life resides. Steev. 
 
 " — in such bloody distance." Mr. Steevens's acute- 
 ness in this place is deserving of notice. He imagines, 
 because the word thrust is made use of, that swords must 
 necessarily be employed : and this, in his opinion, is con- 
 firmed by the epithet " bloody : " which epithet, however, 
 is nothing more than fierce, cruel. The meaning of the 
 whole is simply this : " Such is the fierceness or great- 
 ness of our enmity, that while he(lianquo) lives, my life 
 is in danger." B. 
 
 Macb. Within this hour, at most, 
 I will advise you where to plant yourselves ; 
 Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, 
 The moment on't. 
 
 Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time.] 
 What is meant by the spy of the time, it will be found difficult 
 to explain ; and therefore sense will be cheaply gamed by a 
 
112 MACBETH. ACT Hi. 
 
 slight alteration. — Macbeth is assuring the assassins that they 
 shall not want directions to find Banquo, and therefore says : 
 
 iwiii 
 
 Acquaint you -with a perfect spy o' the time. 
 Accordingly a third murderer joins them afterwards at the 
 place of action. 
 
 Perfect is well instructed, or well informed, as is this play : 
 " Though in your state of honor I am perfect." 
 though I am well acquainted with your quality and rank. 
 John. 
 
 the perfect spy o' the time,"] 
 
 i.e. the critical juncture. \Yarb. 
 
 How the critical juncture is the spy o' the time, I know not, 
 but I think my own conjecture right. John. 
 
 " Perfect spy b' the time," is so strange an expression 
 that all attempts to explain it are forced, and little satis- 
 factory. Shakspeare has here, I think, coined a word 
 (perfectry) i. e. exact, to the nicest point : 
 
 " Acquaint you with the perfectry o the time," 
 i. e. the exact point of time, the moment, &c. 
 
 Macb. Better be with the dead, 
 Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
 Than on the torture of the mind to lie. 
 
 Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace.] 
 The old copy reads : 
 
 Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace. 
 This change, which appears to be necessary, was made in the 
 second folio. Stekv. 
 
 " Whom we to gain our place," &c. To "gain our 
 peace have sent to peace," is much in the manner of 
 Shakspeare. The old copy is, therefore, probably right. 
 Gain our peace, will mean — the hope of being at rest, 
 when the crown was gained ; and which, before that 
 event, he considered as wholly impossible. B. 
 
 Macb. Come, seeling night, 
 Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
 And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
 Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
 Which keeps me pale ! — Light thickens ; and the 
 
 crow 
 Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
 
SCENE IV. MACBETH. 113 
 
 Light thickens ; and the crow] By the expression light 
 thickens, Shakspeare means, the light grows dull or muddy. 
 Edwards. 
 
 " Light thickens." I would read, and point thus : 
 " — with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
 " Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond, 
 " Which keeps me. Pale light thickens," &c. 
 The meaning of the whole appears to be this : " Come, 
 night, thou, who concealest all things," the murderer may 
 be supposed so to reason with himself, " Come, and 
 cancel the great bond which keeps me, 1 e. which holds, 
 checks, or restrains me." He then goes on as intimating 
 that the time is become nearly proper for the deed, he 
 had in contemplation : 
 
 " Pale light thickens." 
 "Light," which night was approaching, become dim, or 
 pale, as he terms it : " now grows thick, will soon be lost 
 in darkness." B. 
 
 Macb. You know your own degrees, sit down : 
 at first, 
 And last, the hearty welcome. 
 
 You know your own degrees, sit down : 
 
 At Jirst, and last the hearty welcome.] 
 As this passage stands, not only the numbers are very imper- 
 fect, but the sense, if any can be found, weak and contempti- 
 ble. The numbers will be improved by reading : 
 
 ■ — sit down at Jirst, 
 
 And last a hearty welcome. 
 But for last should then be written next. I believe the true 
 leading is : 
 
 You know your own degrees, sit down. — To Jirst 
 And last the hearty welcome. 
 All of whatever degree, from the highest to the lowest may be 
 assured that their visit is well received. John. 
 
 " At first and last the hearty welcome." "At first and 
 last," will mean in a word, without more ceremony, 
 without more profession. B. 
 
 Macb. Or, be alive again, 
 And dare me to the deseit with thy swoftl ; 
 If trembling I inhibit, then protest me 
 
 sijak. I. H 
 
114 MACBETH. ACT III. 
 
 The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
 Unreal mockery, hence ! 
 
 If trembling I inhabit — ] This is the original reading, 
 which Mr. Pope changed to inhibit, which inhibit Dr. War- 
 burton interprets refute. The old reading may stand, at least 
 as well as ihe emendation. Suppose we read : 
 If trembling I evade it. John. 
 
 Inhibit seems more likely to have been the poet's own word, 
 as he uses it frequently in the sense required in this passage. 
 Othello, act I. sc. 7. 
 
 a practiser 
 
 " Of arts inhibited.'' 
 Hamlet, act II. sc. 6 : 
 
 " I think their inhibition comes of the late innovation." 
 To inhibit is to forbid. , The poet might probably have writ- 
 ten : 
 
 If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me, &c. Steev. 
 
 " If trembling 1 inhabit." "Inhibit" will not bear 
 the sense which Warburton would give it of refuse: 
 and forbid thee is not the meaning required here. " In- 
 habit " is equally faulty, for it must then be asked, inhabit 
 what? there is nothing to which it alludes. It may be 
 answered, indeed, that castle is to be understood as the 
 place which is inhabited. Certainly ; but such a mode of 
 speech is not allowable. As to the line from Milton, it 
 is not in point ; for there the imperative or absolute form 
 is used inhabit ye, which is strictly grammatical, while 
 In Shakspeare the conditional conjunction if' makes it 
 necessary that the noun, — or had that gone before, the 
 relative pronoun should follow inhabit. Johnson's 
 " evade it," departs too far from the letters and sound of 
 the word in the text. Either reading, J am persuaded, 
 will be wrong. I therefore propose as follows : 
 " Be alive again, 
 " And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; 
 " If tremblingly inhabite, then protest me," &c. 
 
 Inhabile (mhabilis Lat.) " Dare me to the desert, 
 and if I appear any way unready, if I show myself 
 any way unfit for the encounter, then proclaim me, &c." 
 
 " Unreal mockery, hence," "Unreal mockery," gives a 
 different sense to that required. We must read :- 
 " Hence, horrible shadow ! 
 " Unreal ! — Mockery, heuce ! B. 
 
SCEXE IV. MACBETH. 115 
 
 • 
 
 Macb. Stones have been known- to move, and 
 
 trees to speak ; 
 Augurs, and understood relations, have 
 Bv magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought 
 
 forth 
 The seeret'st man of blood. 
 
 Augurs and understood relations, — 
 By the word relation is understood the connection of effects 
 with causes ; to understand relations as an augur, is to know 
 how these tilings relate to each wther, which have no visible 
 combination or dependence. John. 
 
 " Augurs, ami understood relations, — " 
 By relations is meant the relation one thing is supposed to 
 bear to another. The ancient soothsayers of all denominations 
 practised their art upon the principle of analogy. Which 
 analogies were founded in a superstitious philosophy arising 
 out of the nature of ancient idolatry ; which would require a 
 volume to explain? If Shakspeare meant what 1 suppose he 
 did by relations, this shows a very profound knowledge of 
 antiquity. But, after all, in his licentious way, by relations 
 he might only mean languages, i.e. the language of birds. 
 Ware. 
 
 The old copy has the passage thus : 
 
 " Augures, and understood relations, have 
 
 '• By maggot-pies and choughs," ike. 
 The modern editors read : 
 
 " Augurs that understand relations, have 
 
 " By magpies and by choughs," &c. 
 Perhaps we should read, auguries, i. e. prognostications by 
 means of omens and prodigies. These, together with the 
 connection of effects with causes, being understood (says he) 
 have been instrumental in divutging the most secret murders. 
 Stf.t.v. 
 
 " Augurs and understood relations." " Augures " are 
 Auguries, the reading Mr. Steevens would recommend. 
 The whole may be understood by pointing thus : (by 
 magot pies and choughs and rooks) which will be as 
 though he had said : As for example by magot pies, &c. 
 
 Lady Mac. You lack the season of all natures, 
 sleep. 
 
lit) MACBETH. ACT III. 
 
 • 
 
 You lack the season of all natures, sleep.] 
 I take the meaning to be you want sleep, which seasons, or 
 gives relish to all nature. " Indiget sdmiii vitae condimenti." 
 John. 
 
 " You lack the season/' &c. Cesin, the old word for 
 rest, ceasing from fatigue, would be more expressive. Be- 
 side, sleep cannot be called the season of natures, 
 i. e. of all persons : though sleep may be desired at a par- 
 ticular season or time. B. 
 
 Len. Men must not walk too late. 
 Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous 
 It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain, 
 To kill their gracious father? damned fact! 
 
 Who cannot "want the thought 
 
 The sense requires : 
 
 " Who can want the thought " 
 
 Yet, I believe, the text is not corrupt. Shakspeare is some- 
 times incorrect in these minutiae. Mal. 
 
 " Want the thought." Shakspeare's incorrectness 
 stands not in need of Mr. Malone's apology. u Who can- 
 not want the thought," &c. is : who cannot wish to be 
 sensible of the monstrousness, the atrocity of the deed?_ 
 The text is undoubtedly right. B. 
 
 1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 
 
 2 JVitch. Thrice ; and once the hedge-pig 
 
 whin'd. 
 
 Thrice ; and once the hedge-pig whin'd.] 
 Mr. Theobald reads, twice and once, Sec. and observes that 
 odd numbers are used in all enchantments and magical opera- 
 tions. The remark is just, but the passage was misunderstood. 
 The second Witch only repeats the number which the first 
 had mentioned, in order to confirm what she had said ; and 
 then adds, that the hedge-pig had likewise cried, though but 
 once. Or what seems more easy, the hedge-pig had whined 
 thrice, and after an interval had whined once again. 
 
 Even numbers, howiver, were always reckoned inauspicious. 
 So, in the Honest Lawyer, by S. S. I6l6 : " Sure 'tis not a 
 lucky time; the first crow I heard this morning, cried twice. 
 This even, sir, is no good number." Twice and once, however, 
 might be a cant expression. So, in K. Hen. IV. P. II. Sr- 
 
ACT IV. SCENE II. MACBETH. 117 
 
 knee, ssiys," I have been merry twice and once, ere now." Stekv 
 " Thrice ; and once." Mr. Theobald was right in 
 reading " twice and once," but without knowing why he 
 Mas right: and Mr. Steevens is wrong in saying that the 
 " second witch only repeats," &c. It should be remem- 
 bered that Hecate, who presided over enchantments, never 
 attended the sacrifices 'till she hadbeencalled upon precisely 
 seven times. The blinded cat having mewed thrice, the 
 hedge-pig whined twice and once, and harper cried once, 
 the magical number was completed; the invocation was 
 in form. The third witch accordingly says: " 'Tis nine, 
 'tis time," i. e. " We may now begin our iucantatious." B. 
 
 Mac. What-e'er thou art, for thy good caution, 
 thanks ; 
 Thou hast harp'd my fear aright. 
 
 Thou hast harp'd my fear aright : — ] 
 To harp, is to touch on a passion as a harper touches a string. 
 Steev. 
 
 " Harp'd my fear," should perhaps be " happ'd my 
 fear," i. e. caught or interpreted my fears aright. 
 
 To " happe," is to catch. Happer, /'?•. "harp on" 
 is dwell on — winch will not do here. B. 
 
 Rossc. But, for your husband, 
 He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows 
 The fits o' the season. 
 
 The fits o' the season. — ] 
 The Jits 0/ the season should appear to be, from the following 
 passage in Curudanus, the violent disorders of the season, its 
 convulsions : 
 
 " but that 
 
 " The violent Jit o' th' times craves it as phasic. Steev. 
 
 " lie is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows, 
 
 " The fits o' the season." 
 The meaning is, — He is wise and judicious, and knows 
 how to conduct himself according to the temper of the 
 times. It is not the physical) but the political or moral 
 state of the world, that we are to understand in these 
 instances. B. 
 
1 18 MACBETH. ACT JV\ 
 
 Rosse. When we hold rumor 
 
 From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, 
 But float upon a wild and violent sea, 
 Each way and move. 
 
 When we hold rumour 
 
 From what we fear, ] 
 
 To hold rumour signifies to be governed by the authority of 
 rumour. Warb. 
 
 e W lien we hold rumour,' Sec I do not understand the 
 present reading. I believe, the words are shuffled out of 
 their places, and that we should read, 
 
 ' When we hold fear 
 From rumor, and yet know not what we fear.' 
 The meaning will then be, " that reports will frequently 
 awaken our fears ; but that those reports are sometimes so 
 very vague and uncertain, that strictly speaking we know 
 not what we fear." B. 
 
 Jlles. Bless you, fair dame ! I am not to you 
 known, 
 Though in your state of honor I am perfect. 
 
 in your stutt of honor 1 am perfect.] 
 
 i. e. I am perfectly acquainted with your talk ot honor. Steev. 
 'in your state of honor I am perfect.' The sense of 
 the passage is mistaken by reason of the wrong pointing of 
 it. It is not of the lady's honor but his own that he is 
 speaking. It should be printed, 
 
 ' 1 am not to you known, 
 Though in your state. Of honor 1 am perfect.' 
 " I am not known to you, though belonging to your 
 estate, though one of. the vassals of Macduff. True 
 honor, however, is mine." B. 
 
 Macd. Each new morn, 
 
 New widows howl ; new orphans cry ; new sor- 
 rows 
 Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds 
 As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out 
 Like syllable of dolor. 
 
SCENE til. -MACBETH. 119 
 
 and ycll'il out 
 
 Like syllabi" of dolor.] 
 This presents a ridiculous image. But what is insinuated 
 under it is nobl<> ; that the portents and prodigies in the skies, 
 of which raeution is made before, shewed that heaven sympa- 
 thised with Scotland. WarB. 
 
 The ridicule, I believe, is only viiible to the commentator. 
 
 SfiiKV 
 
 ' And yell'd out,' See. Warburton speaks of a ridiculous 
 image. It may be necessary then to inform Mr. Steevena 
 or Ins admirers, that a ridiculous image is not ridicule. B. 
 
 MaccL Bleed, bleed, poor country ! 
 Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, 
 For goodness dares not check *thee ! — wear thou 
 
 thy wrongs, 
 His title is aflfear'd ! 
 
 His tit'eis aflfear'd ! 
 
 AJfeard, a I > a term for continn'd. Popv.. 
 
 What Mr. Pope says oi the law term is undoubtedly true ; 
 but there is no reason why we should have recourse to it for 
 the explanation of this passage. Macduff first apostrophises 
 his country, and afterwards points to Malcolm, saying, that 
 his title was afear'd, i. e. frighted from exerting itself. Through- 
 out the ancient editions of Shakspeare, the word afraid is 
 written as it was formerly pronounced, o/earV. The old copy 
 reads— The title, &e. i. e. the regal title is afraid to assert 
 itself. Steev. 
 
 If we read, The title is affeerd, the meaning maybe: — 
 Pooi country, wear lli >u thy wrongs, the title to them is legally 
 settled by those who had the final judication of it. Affeoers 
 had the power of confirming or moderating fines and amerce- 
 ments. ToLEET. 
 
 ' His title is affear'd.' Mr. Steevens's ridiculous inter- 
 pretation must be struck out. Mr. Toilet has rightly ex- 
 plained affeerd. \\ e must, however, read : 
 
 " His title is affeer'd," 
 i. e. " Tyranny's title is now secure." B. 
 
 Mai Now we'll together; And the chance of 
 goodness 
 
120 MACBETH. ACT IV. 
 
 Be like our warranted quarrel ! Why are you 
 silent ? 
 
 And the chance, of goodness, 
 
 Be like our warranted quarrel. ] 
 
 The chance of goodness, as it is commonly read, conveys no 
 sense. If rbere be not some more important error in the pas- 
 sage, it should at least be pointed thus : 
 
 ami the chance of goodness, 
 
 be like our warranted quarrel ! 
 
 That is, may the-e\c-nt be, of the goodness of heaven, [pro jus- 
 titta diviiia] answerable to the cause. 
 
 The author df the Rexisul conceives the sense of the passage 
 to be rather this : And 7iwy the success of that goodness, which 
 is about to exert itsilj in my behalf, be such as may be equal to 
 the justice o) my quarrel. 
 
 But 1 am inclined to believe that Shakspeare wrote : 
 
 ■ — And the chance, O goodness, 
 
 Be like, our warranted quarrel ? 
 
 This some of his transcribers wrote a small o, which another 
 imagined to mean of. If we adopt this reading, the sense will 
 be : And thou sovereign Goodness, to whom me now appeal, 
 may our fortune ansxvir to our cause. John. 
 
 ' And the chance of goodness/ &c. The i chance of 
 goodness,' is an expression which I cannot understand. 
 The words are certainly misplaced. I therefore read : 
 " Now we'll together ; and the chance be like 
 " Our warranted quarrel ! of goodness why are you 
 silent ?" 
 i. e. " may our fortune be such as the justice of our quarrel 
 demands." 
 
 ' Of goodness/ i. e. in the name of goodness, is a mode 
 of speech peculiar to the Scots ; and common with them 
 at the present day. B. 
 
 Rosse. Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that 
 rent the air, 
 Are made, not mark'd. 
 
 rent the air,] 
 
 To rent is an ancient verb which has been long ago dis- 
 used. Steev. 
 
 ' Rent the air/ ' Rent' i. e. vended. ' Rented' is the 
 same, a participle of the verb to rend: which verbis as 
 much in use at the present day as at any former time. B. 
 
ACT V. SCENE I. MACBETH. 121 
 
 Macd. He has no children— All my pretty ones? 
 Did you say all r— Oh, hell-kite !— All? 
 
 He litis no children ] 
 
 Ii has been observed by an anonymous critic, that this is not 
 said of Macbeth, who bad children, but of Malcolm, who, 
 having none, supposes a father can be so easily comforted. 
 
 John. 
 
 lie has no children, ] 
 
 The meaning of this may be, either that Macduff could not by 
 retaliation revenge the murder of his children, because Macbeth 
 had none himself ; or that if he had any, a father's feelings for a 
 father would have prevented him from the deed. I know not 
 from what passage we are to infer that Macbeth had children 
 alive. The Chronicle docs not, as 1 remember, mention any. 
 The same thought occurs again in King John : 
 
 " He, talks to me that never had a son." Steev. 
 1 He has no children.' This remark is evidently appli- 
 cable to Malcolm and not to Macbeth. ' He talks to me 
 that never had a son,' in King John is of exactly the same 
 import as, ■ He has no children,' although Mr. S. has 
 employed it for a contrary purpose. But this, indeed, is 
 by no means uncommon with him. Like Butler's famous 
 Logician, 
 
 " His arguments directly tend, 
 u Against the point he would defend." B. 
 — » — 
 
 Doct. So, good-night : 
 
 My mind she has mated, and gmaz'd my sight : 
 
 My mind she has mated, ] Astonished, confound- 
 ed. John. 
 
 The expression is taken from chess-playing : 
 
 " that so young a warrior 
 
 " Should bide the shock of such approved knights, 
 " Ashe this day hath match'd and mated too.'' 
 
 Soliman and Pcrscda. Sec Vol. II. p. 212. 
 
 Steev. 
 ' My mind she lias mated.' l Mated' from the French 
 matter, to humble, i.e. She has damped my spirits. 
 
 Mr. Steevens's quotation is foreign to the present expres- 
 sion. Mated has no allusion to chess-playing either here 
 or in Sol. and Pers. In both it is the French word /natter; 
 but in the latter the term has something more in it than 
 humbled, it means conquered. B. 
 
I£2 MACBETH. , ACT V. 
 
 Len. There is Siward's son, 
 
 And many tin rough youths, that even now 
 Protest their first of manhood. 
 
 Unrough youths, ] 
 
 An odd expression. It means smooth-fa c'd, unbearded. Stt.v.v. 
 " Unrough" is surely unhardy ; .such as have- never ex- 
 perienced the fatigues of war. J5. 
 
 JLcn. Or so much as it needs, 
 To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds* 
 
 To dew the sovereign flower, cVc.} 
 This uncommon verb occuis in Look about You, ]6*00: 
 
 " Dtuing your princely hand with pity's tear." Steev. 
 ' To dew the sovereign flower.' This is by no means 
 an uncommon verb. In the M. N. D. we have : 
 
 u To dew my orbs upon the green." B. 
 
 Macb. Bring me no more reports ; let then] fly all : 
 Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, 
 I cannot taint with fear. 
 
 Bring me no wore reports, $cJ\ 
 Tell me not any more of desertions — Let all my subjects leave 
 me — I urn safe till, &c 
 
 ' Reports/ The reports are not respecting desertions, 
 but the number of the enemy. It would be very strange of 
 Macbeth cared not for the support ot those whom he deem- 
 ed his friends. 
 
 1 Let them fly all.' ' Let them fly all' seems not to 
 mean, let my subjects have me, as Johnson supposes, but 
 let the reports be unheeded; or as we should now say, give 
 them to the winds. 13. 
 
 Mai. For where there is advantage to be given, 
 Both more and less have given him the revolt; 
 And none serve with him but constrained tilings, 
 Whose hearts are absent .too. 
 
 For where there is advantage to be given, 
 Both more and less have given him the revolt ;] 
 The propriety ot the expression, advantage to be given, instead 
 
SCENE VIT. MACBETH. 1C3 
 
 of advantage given, and the disagreeable repetition of the word 
 given in the next line, incline me to read : 
 
 where there is a 'vantage to !>e gone, 
 
 Both more and lest haxe given him (he rciult. 
 Advantage or 'vantage, in the time of Miakspeare, signified 
 opportunity. He shut up himself and his soldiers (says Mal- 
 colm) in the castle, because when there is an opportunity to be 
 gone, then all desert him. 
 
 Mon in d less is the same with greater and less. So, in the 
 interpolati d Manderille, a book ol that age, there is a chapter 
 of India the Mor< and the Less. John. 
 
 ' For \\ here there is advantage,' &.c. The repetition of 
 ' given' has much of SHakspeaTe's manner. The lines as 
 they now stand will bear an easy explanation. 
 
 "The soldiers of Macbeth (high and low) have, on the 
 advantages held out to them by the opposing ariny, fled 
 from him." 
 
 " For the advantage to be 'given to them, they have 
 given him the revolt" We here find a little of that con- 
 cetto of which our author was so fond. B. 
 
 JSIacb The time has been, my senses would 
 have cool'd 
 To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair 
 "Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir 
 As life were in't. 
 
 Fi ll of hair. My hairy part, my capillitium. Fell is skin* 
 John. 
 
 " Fell of hair." Fell is likewise many, numerous. See 
 Chaucer. And that is the sense required here. H. 
 
 Re-enter fighting, and Macbeth is slain. 
 Retreat and florish. Enter with drum and colors, 
 Malcolm, Old Shear d, Rosse, Thanes and Soldiers. 
 
 Re-enter. This stage-direction is taken from the folio, and 
 proves, that the players were not even skilful enough to pre- 
 vent impropriety in those circumstances which fell immediate- 
 ly under their own care. Macbeth is here killed on the stage, 
 and a moment after Macduff enters, as from another place, 
 with his head on a spear. Of the propriety of ancient stage- 
 directions, th^ following is no bad specimen : Enter Sybilla 
 lying in childbed, with her child lying by her, and her nurse, 
 Ike." Hey wood's Golden Age, l6l 1. Steev. 
 
124 MACBETH. ACT V. 
 
 " Re-enter." There is nothing faulty in this stage di- 
 rection. \Vhen Macbeth is slain the scene closes : after 
 which, Malcolm, Old Siward, &c. enter as on a new 
 one: that is, on another part of the field of battle. This 
 must be evident to every attentive person, for had not the 
 scene been changed, Malcolm and Macduff would natu- 
 rally have greeted each other on the fall of Macbeth. 
 Beside the word retreat sufficiently marks it. Mr. Ste- 
 vens's stage direction, by the way, is much more liable to 
 censure, when he tells us that " Macduff enters with his 
 head," and if Macbeth be really lying dead on the pre- 
 sent scene, and Macduff enters on it, he must, according 
 to Mr. S. carry his ozvn head on a spear. Macduff, 
 however, does not enter with his head on a spear, but on 
 his shoulders. He comes in as from the other part of 
 the field, with Macbeth's head on a spear, indeed, and so 
 the old copy has very clearly set it dowu. B. 
 
1Ung Scar. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE L 
 
 Lear. Which of you, shall we say, doth love us 
 
 most? 
 That we our largest bounty may extend 
 Where nature doth with merit challenge. — Gone- 
 
 ril, 
 Our eldest born, speak first. 
 
 Where nature doth with merit challenge. ] Where the 
 
 claim of merit is superadded to that of nature ; or where a 
 uper or degree of natural Jilial affection is joined to the claim 
 of other merits. Steev. 
 
 " Challenge," in this place, seems to be rivalry, compe- 
 tition. " Where nature doth with merit challenge" — where 
 nature and merit are contending for superiority. In other 
 words, where natural affection and acquired excellence are 
 found. B. 
 
 Gon. A love that makes breath poor, and speech 
 unable, 
 
1 ( 2G KING LEAR. ACT I. 
 
 Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 
 
 Beyond all manner of so much ] Beyond all assign- 
 able quantity. I love you beyond limits, and cannot say it is 
 so much, for how much soever 1 should name, it would be yet 
 more. John. 
 
 The present reading is harsh. I would strike out the 
 preposition of, and read and point thus : 
 
 '• A love th;st makes breath poor, and speech unable 
 
 P Beyond all manner. So much I love you." 
 i. e. " A love which cannot be expressed in words — a 
 love of which you can have no conception. 13. 
 
 Reg. 1 profess" 
 
 Myself ail enemy to all other joys, 
 Which the most precious square of sense possesses, 
 And find, I am alone felicitate 
 In your dear highness' love. 
 
 Which the most precious square of sense possesses ;~\ By the 
 •quare of sense, we are, here, to understand the four nobler 
 senses, viz. the sight, hearing, taste, and smell. For a young 
 lady could not, wih decency, insinuate thaf' she knew of any 
 pleasures which the filth afforded. This is imagined and ex- 
 pressed with great propriety and delicacy. But the Oxford 
 editor, for square, reads spirit. Warb. 
 
 This is acute; but perhaps square means only compass, com- 
 prehension. John. 
 
 So, in a Parcenesis to the Prince, by lord Sterline, lrj04 : 
 
 " The square of reason, and the mind's clear eye." Steev. 
 
 ' Which the most precious square of sense possesses.' 
 Mr. Steevens' quotation is nothing to the purpose. The 
 ' square of reason' is the suitableness, the fitness, the agreea- 
 bleness of reason. B. 
 
 Lear. To whose young love 
 
 The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, 
 Strive to be interess"d. 
 
 Ivteress'd] To interest and tninteresse, are not, perhaps, different 
 spellings of the same verb, but are two distinct words though 
 ot the same import; the one being derived from the Latin the 
 other from the French interesser. Steev. 
 
 ' Strive to be interess'd.' To interesse has the sense of 
 
SCENE I. KTiVG LEAR. 127 
 
 to unite, to coalesce, a french signification : which signifi- 
 cation the verb ' to interest will not bear. How then can 
 the two words be of the same import ? B. 
 
 Lear. Since thou hast sought to make us break 
 
 our vow, 
 (Which we durst never yet,) and with strain d 
 
 pride, 
 To come betwixt our sentence and our power, 
 (Which not our nature nor our place can bear,) 
 Our potency made good, take thy reward. 
 
 To come betwixt our sentence and our power ;] Poiver, for 
 execution ofthe sentence. W.uib. 
 
 Rather, as Mr. Edwards observes, our power to execute that 
 sentence. Stef.v. 
 
 ' Our sentence and our power.' ' Power' is not used 
 for execution of the sentence, nor does it moan power to 
 execute that sentence : ' our power' is " our right, our just 
 and lawful right : since the power he had to boast of might 
 be usurped, to punish as a sovereign." — in which sense it 
 is employed by Milton. B. 
 
 Which nor our nature, nor our place, can bear, 
 Our potency make good ; ] 
 
 Mr. Theobald, by putting the first line into a parenthesis, 
 and altering make lomade in the second line, had destroyed the 
 sense of the whole: which, as it stood before he corrupted the 
 words, was this : " You have endeavoured, says Lear, to make 
 mc break my oath ; you have presumed to stop the execution 
 of my sentence? the latter of these attempts neither my temper 
 Dor high station will sutler me to bear: and the other, had I 
 
 yielded to it, my power could not make good, or excuse." 
 
 Which, in the first line, referring to both attempts : but the 
 ambiguity ol it, as it might n fer only to the latter, has occa- 
 sioned all the obscurity of the passage, Warb. 
 
 ' To come betwixt our sentence and our power, 
 W hich nor our nature, nor our place can bear, 
 Our potency make good.' 
 
 A very slight change in the order of the words of the 
 latter hue, with the addition of ' zee,' will give that clear- 
 ness and strength to the passage which it at present 
 wants. Read, 
 
128 KING LEAR. ACT I, 
 
 * Since thou bast sought to make us break our vow, 
 (Whiih we durst sever yet) and with strain'd pride, 
 To come betwixt our sentence and our power, 
 (Which nor our nature nor our place can bear .) 
 Make we our potency good : — take thy reward ! — 
 live days, &,c.' 
 
 " Since thou hast presumed to question, to dispute our 
 power, then, (as consequent of that presumption) ' Make 
 we our potency good.' — " Let us shew that we have 
 power," — or, " we will exercise our power," so " Take 
 thy reward, &c." B. 
 
 Lear. Five days we do allot thee, for provision 
 To shield thee from disasters of the world ; 
 And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back 
 Upon our kingdom. 
 
 — — disasters.] The quartos road diseases. Steev. 
 ' Five days we do allot thee, for provision 
 To shield thee from disasters of the world.' 
 
 I believe ' diseases' to be the right word — not, how- 
 ever, in the sense of malady or sickness, but- ill at ease, 
 that is, as far as respects the goods of fortune. The word 
 ' provision' directs to this reading — for ' disasters' are cala- 
 mities, unhappy accidents, and from which no [provision 
 accumulation of stores or stock could save him. ' Provi- 
 sion to shield thee from diseases of the world,' i. e. suffi- 
 cient to shield thee from worldly want. B. 
 
 Lear. Sir, there she stands : 
 
 If aught within that little, seeming substance, 
 Or all of it, with our displeasure piee'd, 
 And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, 
 She's there, and she is yours. 
 
 Seeming] is beautiful* Steev. 
 
 ' Seeming substance.' ' Seeming' cannot possibly be 
 explained by beaut fuL whatever may be thought of seem- 
 ly. ' Seeming substance' is seeming reality. In vulgar 
 language hollozv. Lear would insinuate that Cordelia 
 is of deceitful appearance, that she is untrue. 
 
 But let us attend to Dr. Johnson — " To interpret words 
 
jSCKN"E T. KING LEAK. ] l .\') 
 
 with such laxity as to make full the same with beneficial, 
 is to put au end to all necessity of. emendation, for anv 
 word may then stand in place of another." Such is the re- 
 mark of the Lexicographer, on Wai burton's interpretation 
 of fill. Hut sec my note, Measure for Measure, Act 4. 
 by which it will appear that the learned Prelate is perfectly 
 right. Thus the rcmarkcr is not only wrong in his cen- 
 sure, but errs himself in the very matter he goes about to 
 reprove : nay errs in it most egregiously, since it is impos- 
 sible, by any endeavour whatever, to give to seeming the 
 sense of beautiful. B. 
 
 France. Sure, her offence 
 
 Must be of such unnatural degree, 
 That monsters it, or your forc-vouch'd affection 
 Fall into taint. 
 
 That monsters it ;] This uncommon verb occurs again in 
 Coriolanus, Art II. sc. ii : 
 
 " To hear my nothings ?nonstcr , (l." Steev. 
 " Monsters it" should, I think, be masters it : and I am 
 the more inclined to this opinion, as monstrous occurs a 
 line or two before. 1 read the passage thus : 
 
 t% that she should 
 
 " Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle 
 " So many folds of favor! sure, her offence 
 " Must be of most unnatural degree, 
 " That masters it." 
 " That masters it," i. e\ ihat masters yonr favor or kind- 
 ness. If we do not admit this reading, where is the antece- 
 dent to it f B. 
 
 The common books read : 
 
 or your fore-vouch'd affection 
 
 Fall'n into taint: 
 This line has no clear or strong sense, nor is this reading autho- 
 rized by any copy, though it has crept into all the late editions. 
 The early quarto reads : 
 
 or you for vouch'd affections 
 
 Fall'n into taint. 
 The folio : 
 
 or your fore-vouch'd affection 
 
 Fall into taint. 
 Taint is used for corruption and fbf disgrace. If therefore we 
 take the oldest reading, it may be reformed thus : 
 
 SlIAK. I. I 
 
130 KING LEAR. ACT I. 
 
 su re her offence 
 Must be of such unnatural degree, 
 That monsters it; or you for vouch'd affection 
 Fall into taint. 
 Her offence must be prodigious or you must fall into reproach 
 for having vouched affection which you did not feel. If the 
 reading of the folio be preferred, we may with a very slight 
 change produce the Eanie sense: 
 sure her offence 
 Must be of such unnatural degree, 
 That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection 
 Falls into taint. 
 That is, falls into repioach or censure. But there is another 
 possible sense. Or signifies before, and or ever is before ever ; 
 the meaning in the folio may therefore be, Sure her crime must 
 be monstrous before your affection can be affected with hatred. 
 
 Let the reader determine. As 1 am not much a friend to 
 
 conjectural emendation, I should prefer the latter sense which 
 requites no change of reading. John. 
 
 In support of the reading of the quarto, in preference to that 
 of the folio, it should be observed, that Lear had not vouch'd, 
 had not made any particular declaration of his affection for 
 Cordelia: while on the other hand Goneril and Regan have 
 made in this scene an ostentatious profession of their love for 
 their father. Mal. 
 
 The reading of the folio is right. Taint, I think, is 
 suspicion. 
 
 " or your fore-vouch'd affection 
 
 " Fall into taint." 
 That is, the affection which you had before expressed will 
 be questioned or disbelieved — its sincerity will be doubted. 
 Mr. Malone is wrong, in saying that Lear had not 
 made any declaration of his affection for Cordelia. He 
 says of her, in one place, " Now our joy, although the 
 last, not least," and in another, " We loved her most/' 
 &c. B. 
 
 Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cunning 
 hides, 
 Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. 
 
 — plaited cunning i. e. complicated, involved cunning. 
 
 John. 
 " Plaited cunning." The epithet plaited is weak and 
 
SCENE II. KING LEAR. 131 
 
 unmeaning. I would read with the quarto " pleated," 
 [contraction] and in the sense of compleated : not, how- 
 ever, signifying compleated cunning — but as a compleated 
 business : — a purpose thoroughly effected. The sense of 
 the whole is this: Regan and Goneril, by pretending a 
 more than common love for their father, had gained an 
 ascendancy over him, and to the injury of Cordelia, whom 
 they hated, and whose ingenuous nature would not have 
 recourse to artifice. B. 
 
 Gon. We must do something, and i' the heat. 
 
 — i the heat.] i.e. We must strike while the iron's hot. 
 Steev. ;, 
 
 " i' the heat." " While our father is warm : while he 
 is enraged against Cordelia." By this she would insinuate 
 that thus they may increase their power. B. 
 
 Edm. Wherefore should I 
 Stand in the plague of custom : and permit 
 The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 
 For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon- 
 shines 
 Lag of a brother ? Why bastard ? Wherefore base ? 
 
 Stand in the plague of custom, — ] The word plague is ir» 
 all the old copies : I can scarcely think it right, nor can I yet 
 reconcile myself to plage, the emendation proposed by Dr. 
 Warburton, though I have nothing better to offer. John. 
 
 The meaning is plain, though oddly expressed. Wherefore 
 should I acquiesce, submit tamely to the plagues and injustice 
 of custom ? 
 
 Shakspeare seems to mean by the plague of custom, Where- 
 fore should I remain in a situation where 1 shall be plagued 
 and tormented only in consequence of the contempt with 
 which custom regards those who are not the issue of a lawful 
 bed? Dr. Warburton defines plage to be the place, the country, 
 the boundary of custom ; a word to be found only in Chau- 
 cer. Steev. 
 
 " Stand in the plague of custom." To stand in a 
 plague is nonsense. Warburton has hit on the right 
 word, " plage." fr. Plage, however, has two significa- 
 tions, and he has, in his mterpietatiou, chosen the wrong 
 one. The word, which is here employed, is thus ex- 
 
l;j<2 KING LEAR. ACT I. 
 
 plained in the Dictionaries: Rivagc de mer qui na pas 
 assez d'cau pour, tenir les vahseau.r a /lot : a shallow road. 
 
 " Wlierefoic should I, says Edmund, stand ill the 
 shallow or Hat of custom ? " In other words, " why 
 be timid r why remain in shore ? why not boldly rim out 
 to sea : " Or the passage may be printed as follows, 
 which perhaps will be the better reading: 
 " Wherefore should I 
 u Stand in ? (the plague of custom !)" 
 i.e. ''Wherefore should L hide myself? why should I 
 stand back r (plague of custom !) and permit, &c." 
 
 Thus by throwing plague of custom into a parenthesis, 
 the sense is clear, and without the alteration of a single 
 word. B. 
 
 The courtesy of nations.] Mr. Pope reads nicety. The 
 copies give — the curiosity of nations; — but our author's 
 word was, curtesy. In our laws sonic lands are-held by the 
 curtesy of England. Theob. 
 
 " The courtesy of nations." I do not understand how 
 the curiosity of nations was to deprive or hinder him 
 from enjoying the goods of fortune. The hard-hearted- 
 ness or inflexibility of nations certainly might. 1 there- 
 fore read corcity : a word which Shakspeare has coined 
 from cor fr. (durete, durillon) and which, by a figure, may 
 stand for cruelty. Curtesy is likewise as unquestionably 
 wrong, because it can bear no other sense than favor, a 
 sense which will by no means suit here. B. 
 
 Edm. Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, 
 And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 
 Shall top the legitimate. 
 
 Shall be the legitimate.] Here the Oxford editor would 
 show us that he is as good at coining phrases as his author, 
 and so alters the text thus : 
 
 " Shall toe the legitimate. — " 
 i. e. says he, stand on even ground zcit/t him, as he would do 
 with his author. Warb. 
 
 llanmer's emendation will appear very plausible to him that 
 shall consult the original reading. Butter's quarto reads: 
 
 " Edmund the base 
 
 " Shall tooth' legitimate." 
 The folio, 
 
 " Edmund the base 
 
 Shall to th' legitimate." 
 
SCENE IV. KING LEAR. 133 
 
 Hanmcr, therefore, could hardly be charged with coining a 
 word, though his explanation may be doubted. To toe him 
 is perhaps to kick him out, a phrase yet in vulgar use; Or, to 
 toe, may be literally to supplant. The word be has no autho- 
 rity. John. 
 
 " Shall top the legitimate." The reading of the quarto, 
 " shall tooth legitimate,' 1 is thetnie one. The meaning is pry 
 into, examine, by setting myself in opposition to him. The 
 word is used in this sense by Spenser ; and we now say 
 " in the teeth of him " to note resistance. 1>. 
 
 Edni. I hope, for my brother's justification, he 
 wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. 
 
 Taste of my virtue] Though taste may stand in this 
 place, yet I be'ieve we should read) assay or test of my \irtuc: 
 the) are both metallurgical terms, and properly joined. So, 
 in Hamlet : 
 
 " Bring me to the tat." .lonx. 
 
 " Taste of my virtue. " Dr. Johnson seems not to 
 have felt the force of taste in this instance. It conies 
 from the french taster, td feel the pulse of any one, 
 to tamper with him. B. 
 
 Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently ; convey 
 the business as I shall find means, and acquaint 
 you withal. 
 
 Convey the' business. Convey, for introduce ; but convey 
 is a fine word, as alluding to the practice of clandestine con* 
 vcying gOOds so as not to he found upon the felon. Waivii. 
 
 To convey is rather to cany through than to introduce; in 
 this place it is to manage artfully : we say Of a juggler, that 
 he has a clean conveyance. Jonx. 
 
 " Convey the business " can mean nothing more than 
 •make him acquainted pith, the business, trr break the 
 business to him. Edmund, though he really means to manage 
 artfully, would never intimate so much to his father ; but 
 on the contrary, appear open and plain in his dealing. B. 
 
 i— — 
 
 Kail. If but as well I other accents borrow, 
 That can my speech diffuse, my good intent 
 May carry through itself to that full issue 
 For which I raz'd my likeness. 
 
134 KING LEAR. ACT I. 
 
 If but as well I other accents borrow, 
 And can my speech disuse.] Thus Rowe, Pope, and 
 Johnson, in contradiction to all the ancient copies. 
 The first folio reads the whole passage as follows : 
 " If but as will I other accents borrow, 
 " That can my speech defuse, my good intent 
 " May carry through," &c. 
 We must suppose that Kent advances looking on his disguise. 
 This circumstance very naturally Uads to his speech, which 
 otherwise would have no very apparent introduction. " If I 
 can change my speech as well as I have changed my dress." 
 To diffuse speech, signifies to disorder it, and so to disguise it ; 
 as in the Merry Wives of Windsor, Act iv. sc. 7- 
 
 " rush at once 
 
 " With some diffused song." Steev. 
 
 " That can my speech diffuse." il Diffuse," as in the 
 first folio, is the proper word : but Mr. Steevens does not 
 understand the passage. " Diffuse my speech," has no 
 such meaning as the Editor would affix to it. It plainly 
 signifies " pour out my sentiments." Kent has the wel- 
 fare of his king and master at heart. " if, says he," I can 
 but borrow such accents, if I can but disguise my voice 
 so well as that I may be enabled, under this assumed 
 character, to pour out my thoughts, to make known my 
 sentiments to him, — my good intentions may be crowned 
 with success." B. * 
 
 Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem ; 
 to serve him truly, that will put me in trust ; to 
 love him that is honest ; to converse with him that 
 is wise, and say little. 
 
 Him that is wise, and says little.'] Though saying little may 
 be the character of wisdom, it was not a quality to choose a 
 companion by for his conversation. We should read : to 
 say little ; which was prudent when he chose a wise com- 
 panion to profit by. So that it was as much as to say, 1 pro- 
 fess to talk little myself, that I may profit the more by the 
 conversation of the wis-e. Warb. 
 
 To converse signifies immediately and properly to keep com' 
 pany, not to discourse or talk. His meaning is, that he chuses 
 for his companions men of reserve and caution; men who are 
 no tattlers nor tale-bearers. The old reading is the true. 
 John. 
 
SCENE IV. KING LEAR, 135 
 
 Wc still say in the same sense — he had criminal conversa- 
 tion with her — meaning commerce. 
 
 So in King Richard III : 
 
 " His apparent open guilt omitted, 
 
 " I mean his conversation with Shore's wife." Mal. 
 
 "Him that is wise, and says little !" This remark of 
 Johnson may be taken as a curious specimen of cavil and 
 objection. But "out of thine own mouth shalt thou be 
 judged." See Johnson's Diet. " To converse, to con- 
 vey the thoughts reciprocally in talk, to discourse familiarly 
 upon any subject." And shall it then be maintained, that 
 to converse is not to discourse ? Beside, what is it to keep 
 company, but to talk? The Doctor's captiousness and 
 animadversion, particularly in regard to the opinions of 
 the learned prelate, are far from being honorable to him. 
 The best that can be said in his favor, on the present oc- 
 casion, is, that he has made, according to the language of 
 the schools, a distinction zvit/ioul a difference. The old 
 reading is not the true. 
 
 As to Mr. Malone's meaning in bringing forward 
 " criminal conversation," and for the purpose of illustra- 
 tion here, it can only be known to himself. B. 
 
 Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own 
 conception : I have perceived a most faint neglect 
 of late ; which I have rather blamed as mine own 
 jealous curiosity, than as a very pretence and 
 purpose of unkindness. 
 
 " I have perceived a most faint neglect." A most faint 
 neglect is surely wrong. It seems to be adverse to the 
 general remark of Lear. We may read " a most fain 
 neglect, i. e. I can discover that they would fain show me 
 neglect : at least, such has been my conceit ; but your 
 words will make me observe them nearer, I shall more 
 particularly note their conduct." B. 
 
 Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? 
 
 bandy looks.] A metaphor from Tennis : 
 " Come in, take this bandy with the racket of patience." 
 Decker's Satiromastix. Steev. 
 
\36 KING LEAK. ACT J. 
 
 " Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal ?" 
 " Do you bandy looks?" is unmeaning. Lear reproves 
 the steward sharply. To which the latter, from having 
 been encouraged by Goncril, replies with pertness. I 
 therefore read : 
 
 Do you bandy locks with me ? 
 i. e. Do you exchange catches, or snatches with me? 
 
 To lock was anciently to catch, to snatch. In Act II. 
 we find : 
 
 'Tis not in thee, 
 To bandy hasty words. B. 
 
 M a i — 
 
 Fool. I. have used it, nuncle, ever since thou 
 macTst thy daughters thy mothers. 
 
 " I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thy 
 daughters thy mothers." " Thy daughters thy mothers" 
 cannot be right. It should be motheurs (fr.) The mean- 
 ing of the word is mover, agitator, manager. " Thy 
 daughters thy motheurs," i. e. ' f Since thou hast enabled 
 thy daughters to move in thy affairs, to act for thee," 
 In allusion to his relinquishment of the kingly power. 
 Possibly, however, a quibble was intended. B. 
 
 Lear. How now, daughter ? what makes that 
 frontlet on? 
 Methihks, you are too much of late i' the frown. 
 
 that frontlet.] Lear alludes to the frontlet, which was 
 anciently part of a woman's dress. Steev. 
 
 "That frontlet." A frontlet was, anciently, not only 
 part of a woman's dress, but a head-piece, a helmet. 
 It is in the latter sense that the words of Lear must be 
 taken, or the expression is without any kind of force. 
 " How' now," says the king, "what is the reason that you 
 thus appear as with a frontlet : why that show and appear- 
 ance of defiance on your brow :' B. 
 
 Fool. He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 
 
 Weary of all, shall want some. — 
 " He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 
 " Weary of all, shall want some."- 
 " Weary " has no force in this place. We must read 
 wered, i. e. neglected, put off by all. See Chaucer. B. 
 
SCENE IV. KINV. I. KAIL. 137 
 
 Lear. Whb is it that can tell me who I an»r - 
 
 Lear's shadow ? 
 
 I would learn that; for hy the marks 
 
 Of soy'reignty, 6T knowledge, and of reason, 
 
 I should be t'ahe persuaded I had daughters. 
 
 Your name, fair gentlewoman '- 
 
 Lear's shadow ?] The folio gives these words to the foul. 
 Steev. 
 
 -for by the mails 
 
 Of sov'reignty, of knowfectge, and of reason.] 
 His daughters prove so unnatural, that, if he were only to 
 judge by the reason of things, no-must conclude, they cannot 
 be his daughters. This is the thought. But how does his 
 kingship or sovereignty enable him to judge of this matter ? 
 The line, by being false pointed, has lost its sense. We should 
 read : $ 
 
 Of sovereignty of knowledge. 
 i.e. the understanding, lie rails it, hy an equally fine phrase, 
 Hi Hamlet) — Sov'r eighty oj reuspn. And it is remarkable 
 that the editors had di praved it t lie re too. WaRB. 
 " Who is it that can tell inc who I am r— Lear's shadow ? 
 " I would leai 11 that ; for by the marks 
 " Of sov'reignty, of knowledge^ and of reason, 
 " 1 should be false persuaded I had daughters. — 
 (< Your name, fair gentlewoman ? " 
 
 1 believe the present order of the words to be wrong, 
 and would therefore transpose them thus : 
 
 " Who is it that can tell me who I am ? 
 
 " Lear's shadow ? I would learn that ; for by the marks 
 
 ft Of sov'reignty, I should be false. persuaded. — 
 
 " Of know ledge and of reason I had daughters. — 
 
 " Your name, fair gentlewoman r " 
 
 The sense of the whole, when paraphrased, is this i 
 '* Where is the man who is able to tell me who or what I 
 am ? 1 seem to be merely the shadow of Lear. I would 
 know that : if it be so, let me have assurance of it ; — 
 for by the marks of sovereignty which remain with me, I 
 might suppose myself Lear, but I should be [false per- 
 suaded] deceived by them : it is scarcely possible 1 can 
 be he." He would then express the same kind of doubt 
 as to his being actually a father. " If the power of rccol- 
 
158 KING LEAR. ACT I. 
 
 lection still is mine, if my faculties are clear, I may 
 surely say that I had daughters ;" then, as if it were a 
 matter he could not himself determine — " your name, 
 fair gentlewom.in ? " 
 
 That this is the right reading, will, I think, be easily 
 seen. As the passage now stands, the reasoning is un- 
 sound : the illative " for," indeed, will show that such is 
 the case. In a word, no inference whatever can be 
 drawn from the " marks of sovereignty," in respect to 
 the daughters of Lear, but only with regard to himself; 
 that is, as they relate to the question of his own personal 
 identity. Which question, however extravagant, must be 
 admitted by reason of his perturbed state of mind. B. 
 
 m tm 
 
 Lear. If she must teem, 
 Create her child of spleen ; that it may live, 
 And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her ! 
 
 Thwart.] Thwart as a noun adjective is not frequent in 
 our language, it is however to be found in Promos and Cassan- 
 dra, 1578, " Sith fortune thwart doth crosse my joys with 
 care." 1 he quarto reads, a thourt disvetur'd 'torment, which 
 I apprehend to be dtsfeatur'd. IIend. 
 
 —disnatur'd. Disnatur'd is wanting natural affection. So 
 Daniel in Hymen'' s Triumph, ]623 : 
 
 " 1 am not so disnatur'd a man." Steev. 
 
 Thwart is an adjective, and is very common with the 
 earlier writers : it is sometimes employed as a substantive, 
 as — " a thwart " for an abortion. 
 
 " A thwart disvetured toiment to her " means an abor- 
 tive, and seemingly, by necessary consequence, ill-fea- 
 tured, torment to her. B. 
 
 — * . 
 
 Lear. Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, 
 To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel 
 How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
 To have a thankless child ! 
 
 Turn all her mother's pains,and benefits, 
 
 To laughter and contempt. 
 
 " Her mother's pains " here signifies, not bodily sufferings,. 
 
 or the throbs of child-birth, (with which this " disnatur'd babe" 
 
 being unacquainted, it could not deride or despise them) but 
 
 maternal cares ; the solicitude of a mother for the welfare of 
 
SCENE IV. KING LEAR. 139 
 
 her child. Benefits mean good offices ; her kind and beneficent 
 attention to the education of her offspring, &c. Mr. Roderick 
 has, in my opinion, explained both these words wrong. He is 
 equally mistaken in supposing that the sex of this child is ascer- 
 tained by the word her, which clearly relates, not to Goneril's 
 issue, but to herself. " Her mother's pains" means, the pains 
 she takes as a mother. Mal. 
 
 Mr. Malone's observation is very just. I would, how- 
 ever, read " mother pains " — the sense will then be clear- 
 er. It is the mark of the genitive case which obscures 
 the meaning. B. 
 
 Lear. Blasts and fogs upon thee ! 
 The untented woundings of a father's curse 
 Pierce every sense about thee ! 
 
 The untented wounding* ] Untented wounds means 
 
 wounds in their worst state, not having a tent in them to digest 
 them ; and may possibly signify here such as will not admit of 
 having a tent put into thern for that purpose. One of the 
 quartos reads, vntender. Steev. 
 
 " Untented wounds " may peihaps be understood; but 
 " untented woundings " is, in my option, without a 
 meaning. 1 think we may read unshaded or unshended 
 rcoundings. To shend, in Chaucer and Spenser, is to 
 blame. " Unshented woundings of a father's curse," may 
 therefore mean the unblamed or unblameable curses of a 
 father, &c. — Curses, which considering your conduct, no 
 one will censure me for. B. 
 
 Gon. Inform her full of my particular fear ; 
 And thereto add such reasons of your own, 
 As may compact it more. 
 
 Compact it more."] Unite one circumstance with another, 
 so as to make a consistent account. John. 
 
 " Compact " is here used in the sense of strengthen or 
 confirm. u Compact it," is, strengthen the fear, — that 
 fear which she had just before spoken of. If we do not 
 read the passage thus, it has no antecedent. B. 
 
 Gon. This milky gentleness, and course of 
 yours, 
 Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon, 
 
140 KING LLAR. ACT II. 
 
 You arc much more at task for want of wisdom, 
 Than prais'd for harmful mildness. 
 
 Mure at taskf] It is a common phrase now with parents 
 and* governesses. I'll take you to tank, i.e. / will reprehend 
 mid correct you. To be ot tank, therefore, is to be liable to 
 reprehension and correction. John. 
 
 Both the quartos instead of at task — read, alapt. A late 
 editor of King Lear says, that the first quarto reads attask'd ; 
 but unless there be a third'quarto which I have never seen or 
 heard of, his assertion is erroneous. Steev. 
 
 " Mare at task." " At task " is not only harsh, but 
 gives a weak and imperfect meaning. Alapt, the reading 
 of the quartos, is not indeed to be understood ; — it 
 comes, however, very near to the certainly right word, 
 which is ojapt (japed) mocked, ridiculed : the a redundant, 
 as in arise, awake, &,c. " You are more scoffed at, (says 
 Goneril,) for want of wisdom, than praised for your gen- 
 tleness." B. 
 
 Cur. You have heard of the news abroad ; I 
 mean, the whisper* d ones, for they are yet but 
 ear-kissing arguments ? 
 
 'Ear-kissing arguments.] Subjects of discourse ; topics. 
 John. 
 
 Ear-kissing argmnents means that they are yet in reality 
 only ichisper'd ones. Steev. 
 
 " Ear-kissing arguments" may mean, "news that is 
 only talked of" — " news that is not confirmed." To say 
 that the news is whispered, is saying nothing as to its 
 truth. Beside, he had observed, that the news was 
 whispered immediately before. B. 
 
 Kent. Thou whoreson zed ! thou unnecessary 
 letter ! — 
 
 Thou whoreson zed! thou vnncccssary letter!] I do not 
 well understand how a man is reproached by being called zed, 
 nor how Z is an unnecessary letter. Scarron compares his 
 deformity to the shape of Z, and it may be a proper word of 
 insult to a crook-backed man; but why should Goneril's 
 steward be crooked, unless the allusion be to his bending or 
 cringing posture in the presence of his superiors. Perhaps it 
 was written, thou zvlioreson C (for cuckold) thou unnecessary 
 
SCESTE II. KfXG LEAR. 141 
 
 letter. C is a letter unnecessary in our alphabet, one of its 
 two sounds being represented by S, and one by K. But all 
 the copies concur in the common reading. Jonn t . 
 
 "Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter !" 
 Shakspeare might have liad in hi? mind the poems of a 
 certain Athenian in which the letter i' is not admitted. 
 Such kind of works were known among the Greeks by 
 lh«- name, as we are told, of Lypogrammatic — properly 
 J jijpi o (molestus — putidus Lat.) affected, fantastical, 
 wrought with over-much care. S and Z were employed, 
 indifferently, by this people. Z, it should be observed, is 
 found in no word originally Teutonic, and in strictness, 
 belongs not to our language. Its sound is always that of 
 a hard S. B. 
 
 Kent. Smooth every passion 
 That in the nature of their lords rebels. 
 
 Sooth eoery passion.] Sooth is tin- reading of neither the 
 folio nor the quarto; in both of which we find smooth, which 
 is, I think, the true reading. So, in Sir John Oldcustlc, lb'OO: 
 " Traitor unto his country ! how he smaoth'd, 
 " And seem'd as innocent as truth itself!" M.vr.. 
 " Smooth every passion.' Smothe, i. c. " smother or 
 cause the suppression of passion," — may perhaps be thought 
 the preferable reading. B. 
 
 Kent. A plague upon your epileptic visage ! 
 Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool ? 
 
 Epileptic visnge /] The frighted countenance of a man 
 ready to fall in a fit. John 
 
 " Epileptic visage." Epileptic visage is not frighted 
 countenance. Epileptic is used for convulsed. Kent 
 means to insinuate that the stew aid is convulsed by an 
 inclination to laughter, and not that he has any fear. 
 He is now protected by Cornwall. B. 
 
 Corn. This is some fellow, 
 Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect 
 A saucy roughness ; and constrains the garb, 
 Quite from his nature. 
 
142 KING LEAR. ACT II. 
 
 Constrains the garb 
 Quite from his nature. 
 Forces his uiifiidc or his appearance to something totally 
 diffeient from his natural disposition. John. 
 " Constrains the garb 
 " Quite from his nature." 
 " Garb " has not, in this place, the signification of 
 outside or appearance; it means sharp, piquant. " Con- 
 strains the garb quite from his nature," is, — " puts on or 
 assumes the pert, and piquant humor, affects more of it 
 than is really natural to him ;" and for the reasons given 
 by Cornwall. Thus we say " wine of a good garb, " 
 i. e. wine lhat is pungent or racy. B. 
 
 Corn. These kind of knaves I know, which in 
 this plainness 
 Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, 
 Than twenty silly ducking observants, 
 That stretch their duties nicely. 
 
 Than twenty silly ducking observants.] The epithet silly 
 cannot be right. First, Because Cornwall, in this beautiful 
 speech, is not talking of the different success of these two 
 kinds of parasites, but of their different corruptions of heart. 
 Second, because he says these ducking observants know how to 
 stretch their duties nicely. I am persuaded we should read : 
 
 Than twenty silky ducking observants, 
 which not only alludes to he garb of a court sycophant, but 
 admirably well denotes the smrothness of his character. But 
 what is more, the poet generally gives them this epithet in 
 other places. So, in Richard III. he calls them : 
 
 " Silky, sly, insinuating Jacks." 
 
 And, in Coriolanus : 
 
 " —when steel grows 
 
 " Soft as the parasite's silk." Warb. 
 
 The alteration is more ingenious than the arguments by 
 which it is supported. John. 
 
 Silly means only simple, or rustic. So, in Cymbeline, Act 
 V. sc. iii. : 
 
 " 'lhere was a fourth man in a silly habit," meaning Post- 
 humus in the dress of a peasant. Nicely isfoolishly. Niais. 
 Fr. Steev. 
 
 The proper epithet, I think, will be silly, i. e. corrupt, 
 
SCENE II. KING LEAH. 143 
 
 depraved, (oyl, sax.) Grossness, feculencu, corruption. 
 Ci Stretch their duties," is, make show of their duties. 
 41 Nicely/' must mean to the extremest point. 13. 
 
 Kent. Under the allowance of your grand 
 aspect, 
 Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 
 On flickering Phoebus' front. 
 
 On Hickcring Phcebus' front.'] Dr. Johnson in his Diction- 
 ary says this word means to Jlutttr. I meet with it in The 
 History of C/yomon, Knight of the Golden Shield, 1599 : 
 
 " By flying force of Jlickering fame your grace shall under- 
 stand." Steev. 
 
 To "flicker" is likewise to fleer, to look proud/y. 
 Phcebus cannot well be said to fuller, but he certainly 
 may be said to fleer. Kent is laughing at Cornwall, and 
 compares his (i grand aspect " to the proud looks of 
 Apollo. B. 
 
 Kent. He that beguil'd you, in a plain accent, 
 was a plain knave ; which, for my part, I will not 
 be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat 
 me to it. 
 
 Though I should win your displeasure to intreat me to't.] 
 Though I should win you, displeased as \ou now are, to like 
 me so well as to intreat me to be a knave. John. 
 
 " Though I should win your displeasure, to intreat me 
 to it." Rather : " I will not become a knave were you 
 to intreat me to it : — no, though 1 were even sure of in- 
 curring your displeasure by my refusal, by non-compli- 
 ance with your request." B. 
 
 Com. Fetch forth the stocks, ho ! 
 You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, 
 We'll teach you. 
 
 Ancient knave.] Two of the quartos read — miscreant 
 knave, and one of them — unreverent, instead of reverend. 
 
 IJTEEV. 
 
 " Unreverent " is right. Unreverent is rude, disre- 
 
144 KING LEAR. ACT If. 
 
 sped fid. Cornwall would say, " you old rogue, you irre- 
 verent braggart ! " 15. 
 
 Gto. Your purposed low correction 
 Is such, as basest and the meanest wretches, 
 For pilfering? and most common trespasses. 
 Are punish'cl With. 
 
 The meanest.] This is a conjectural emendation by Mr. 
 Pope. The quartos read — and tannest, perhaps, for contem- 
 ned'. st. Steev. 
 
 l< The meanest." The reading of the quartos is nearly 
 right. " Teinnest," should be printed temenmt, i. e. 
 tamest, most abject. He calls them tame and abject- 
 wretches by reason of their servile state or condition in 
 life. The word here used is the superlative of the verb 
 tamen (Teut.) to tame. B. 
 
 Kent. Approach, thou beacon to this under 
 globe, [Looking up to the Moon. 
 
 That by thy comfortable beams I may 
 Peruse this letter ! — Nothing almost sees miracles : 
 But misery, — I know, 'tis from Cordelia ; 
 
 [Reading the. letter. 
 Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 
 Of my obscured course ; — and shall find time 
 
 From this enormous state seeking to give 
 
 Losses their remedies. 
 
 Nothing almost sees miracles.'] Thus the folio. The quar- 
 tos read — Nothing almost sees my wrack. Steev. 
 
 I know 'tis from Cordelia, &c] This passage, which sonic 
 of the editors have degraded as spurious, to the margin, and 
 others have silently altered, I have faithfully printed accord- 
 ing to the quarto, from which the folio differs only in punc- 
 tuation. The passage is very obscure, if not corrupt. Per- 
 haps it may be read thus : 
 
 ■ Cordelia — has been — informed 
 
 Of my obscured course, and shall find time 
 
SCENE II. KING LEAR. 145 
 
 From this enormous state-seek i rig, to give 
 
 Losses their remedies. 
 
 Cordelia is informed of our affairs, and when the enormous care 
 of seeking her fortune will allow her time, she will employ it in 
 remedying Losses. This is harsh; perhaps something better 
 may be found. 1 have at least supplied the genuine reading 
 of the old copies. Enormous is unwonted, out of rule, out of 
 the ordinary course of things. John. 
 
 and shall find time 
 
 From this enormous state, seeking to give 
 
 Losses their remedies. ] 
 
 1 confess I do not understand this passage, unless it may be 
 considered as divided parts of Cordelia's letter, which he is 
 reading to himself by moonlight: it certainly conveys the sense 
 of what she would have said. In reading a letter, it is natural 
 enough to dwell on tho-c circumstances in it that promise the 
 change in our affairs which we most wish for; and Kent having 
 read Cordelia's assurances that she will find a time to free the 
 injured from the enormous misrule of Regan, is willing to go to 
 sleep with that pleasing reflection uppermost in his mind. But 
 this is mere conjecture. Stef.v. 
 
 ' Nothing almost sees miracles.' — ' I know 'tis from 
 Cordelia, Sec' Dr. Johnson has observed of this passage 
 that it is " very obscure, if not corrupt." That it is 
 corrupted is beyond a doubt, and of course must become 
 obscure. ' Miracles' must be changed to ' my wrack,' the 
 reading of the quartos — ' obscured,' should, 1 think, be 
 obstructed, and ' losses,' losers. The principal error, 
 however, lies in the arrangement of the words. I regulate 
 the whole as follows. 
 
 " Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, 
 " That by thy comfortable beams I may 
 " Peruse this letter. 1 know 'tis from Cordelia, 
 u Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 
 " Of my obstructed course : my almost wrack ! — 
 " Sees this enormous state, — seeking it from 
 " Nothing but misery ! — and shall find time to give 
 " Losers their remedies." 
 This may be paraph rustically interpreted thus : — an 
 exposition which, whether it be deemed right or wrong, 
 will be found to differ entirely from that of either of the 
 preceding commentators. 
 
 " This letter is from Cordelia, who hath happily been 
 informed of the difficulties I have had to eucounter in the 
 service of the King ; and which have nearly proved my 
 
 SlIAK. I. K 
 
146 KING LEAR. ACT II. 
 
 ruin : [who] sees this overgrown rule of Cornwall, a man 
 that exercises the power intrusted with him by Lear, only 
 in acts of oppression and cruelty ; and who (she, Cordelia) 
 shall yet find a time to give — ' to losers their remedies 1 — 
 to virtue the means of seeking redress for her wrongs.' 1 
 Thus the reasoning acquires closeness, and exhibits a pro- 
 per inference which was wanting before. 13. 
 
 Edg. The country gives me proof and prece- 
 - dent 
 Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 
 Strike in their numb'd and mortify 'd bare arms 
 Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary ; 
 
 Of Bedlam beggars,] In the Bell-man of London, by Decker, 
 5th edit. lG40, is the following account of one of these charac- 
 ters, under the title of an Abraham Man. "■ he sweares 
 
 he hath been in Bedlam, and will talke frantiekely of purpose: 
 you see pinnes stuck in sundry places of his naked flesh, espe- 
 cially in his armes, which paine he gladly puts himselfe to, 
 only to make you believe he is out of his whs. He calles him- 
 selfe by the name of Poore Tom, and comming near any body 
 cries out, Pour Tom is a-cold. Of these Abraham-men, some 
 be exceeding merry, and doe nothing but sing songs fashioned. 
 out of their owne braines : some will dance, others will doe 
 nothing but either laugh or weepe : others are dogged, and so 
 sullen both in loke and speech, that spying but a small com- 
 pany in a house, they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the 
 servants through feare to give them what they demand." To 
 sha?n Abraham, a cant term, still in use among sailors and the 
 vulgar, may have this origin. Steev. 
 
 ' Of Bedlam beggars.' These Bed/am beggars, as also 
 the Turlupins, greatly resemble in manners the Santos of 
 the East. B. 
 
 Edg. Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and 
 mills, 
 
 Poor pelting tillages,' ] Pelting is used by Shakspear* 
 
 in the sense of beggarly : I suppose from pelt, a skin. The 
 poor being generally clothed in leather. Wajib. 
 
SCENE HI. KING LEAR. 147 
 
 Pelting is, I believe, only an accidental depravation of petty. 
 Shakspeare uses it in the Midsummer Night's Dream of small 
 brooks. John. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher often use the word in the same 
 sense as Shakspeare. So in King and no King, Act IV. ; 
 " This pelting, prating peace is good for nothing." 
 
 Spanish Curate, Act II. sc. ult. " To learn the pelting 
 
 law." Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, — " every 
 pelting river." Measure for Measure, Act II. sc. vii : 
 " And every pelting petty officer." 
 
 Again, in Troilus and Cressida, Hector says to Achilles : 
 " We have had pelting wars since you refus'd 
 " The Grecian cause." 
 From the first of the two last instances it appears not to be a 
 corruption of petti), which is used the next word to it, but 
 seems to be the same as paltry ; and if it comes from pelt a 
 skin, as Dr. Warburton says, the poets have furnished villages, 
 peace, law, rivers, officers of justice and wars, all out of one 
 wardrobe. Stm.v. 
 
 " Pelting" should in this place be " palting," which 
 signifies paltry, trifling : " Pelting" is fuming, fretful. 
 Pelting and palting, or paltring, are frequently confounded 
 and mistaken for each other. But 1 will endeavour to 
 shew, from the above quoted passages, the different signifi- 
 cations of the words. 
 
 " This pelting, prating peace." It should be palting, 
 meaning this trifling, prating peace, &c. 
 
 " To learn the pelting law." Here too it should be 
 palling, or pal/ring. To palter, is sometimes to shift, to 
 dodge. The propriety of the epithet, therefore, when ap- 
 plied to laic, is easily seen. 
 
 " Every pelting river." Palting, i. e. paltry. 
 
 " Every pelting petty officer," i. e. noisy, turbulent. 
 
 " We have had pelting wars/' &e. i. e. fuming, angry 
 wars, &c. B. 
 
 Edg. Poor Turlygood ! poor Tom ! 
 
 That's something yet. 
 
 poor Turlygood ! poor Tom /] We should rean 
 
 Turlupin. In the fourteenth century there was a new species 
 of gipsies, called Turlupins, a fraternity of naked beggars, 
 which ran up and down Europe. However, the Church ot 
 Rome hath dignified them with the name of heretics, and ac- 
 tually burned some ot them at Paris. But what sort ofreli- 
 
148 KING LEAR. ACT II. 
 
 gionists they were, appears from Genebrard's account of them. 
 " Turlupin Cynicorum sectam suscitantes, dc nuditate puden- 
 dorum, et publico coitu." Plainly, nothing but a band of 
 Tom-o 1 -Bedlams. Wakb. 
 
 llanmer reads poor Turlui u. It is probable tliej word 
 Turlygood was the common corrupt pronunciation. John. 
 
 ' Poor Turlygood ! poor Tom.' Warburton is certainly 
 right in saying that the Turlupins are the people alluded to 
 by Edgar. We must, however, instead of poor Turly- 
 good read as follows — ' poor Turly ! good ! — poor 
 Tom ! that's something yet/ He is practising the speech 
 which may accord with his character, and therefore calls 
 himself poor Turly, a name contracted of Turlupin, 
 literally a vagabond. He then goes on — ' <rood' — i. e. 
 " this will do." B. 
 
 Fool. When a man is over-lusty at legs, then he 
 wears wooden nether-stocks. 
 
 — over-lusty in this place has a double signification. Lvsti' 
 ness anciently meant sauciiiess. 
 
 So, in Decker's If this be not a good play the Devil is in it, 
 1612 : 
 
 " upon pain of being plagued for their lusty?icss." Steev, 
 
 1 Over-lusty at legs.' It does not appear from either of 
 the above quotations, that lusty was at any time used for 
 saucy. It certainly means sturdy, resolute, when not taken 
 in 'its primitive and particular sense of large, corpulent. 
 * Legs' as well as ' lusty' is here employed equivocally. 
 The forced signification of legs is embassy. It is con- 
 tracted of legation, (leg') — The ambiguity is this. Kent 
 has his ' over-lusty' (large or thick) legs in the stocks ; and 
 as he has been over-sturdy, or over-resolute in his qualify 
 of ambassador from Lear ; — in the legations, in the busi- 
 nesses on which he had been sent, he is in the stocks. B. 
 
 Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the 
 eels, when she put them i' the paste alive ; she 
 rapt 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, 
 Down, wantons, down. 
 
 — -the cockney] It is not easy to determine the exact power 
 of this term of contempt, which, as the editor of the Canterbury 
 
SCENE IV. KItfG LEAH. 149 
 
 Talcs of Chaucer observes, might have boon originally borrowed 
 from the kitchen. From the ancient ballad of the Turnament 
 of Tottenham, published by Dr. Percy in his second volume of 
 Ancient Poetry, p. 24, it should seem to signify a cook : 
 " At that feast were they served in rich array ; 
 " Every five and five had a cokenay." 
 i. e. a cook, or scullion, to attend them. 
 
 Shakspeare, however, in Twelfth Night, makes his Clown 
 say, " I am afraid this great lubber the world, will prove a 
 cockney." In this place it seems to have a signification not 
 unlike that which it bears at present; and, indeed, Chaucer in 
 his Reve's Tale, ver. 420j, appears to employ it with such a 
 meaning : 
 
 " And when this jape is tald another day, 
 " I shall be halden a daffe or a cokenay. ! ' 
 
 Meres likewise, in the second part of his JFit's Commonzoealtft, 
 159S, observes,, that " many cockney and wanton women are 
 often sick, but in faith they cannot tell where." Decker, also, 
 in his Nerves from Hell, &c. I606, has the following passage, 
 " "1 is not their fault, but our mother's, our cockering mothers, 
 who for their labor made us to be called cockneys." See the 
 notes on the Canterbury 'Tales of Chaucer, Vol. IV. p. 253. 
 where the reader will meet with more information on this sub- 
 ject. Steev. 
 
 Dr. Percy imagines it signifies a cook, in the ballad of the 
 Turnamcnt of Tottenham : 
 
 Every five and five had a cokency. 
 Certainly it cannot be a cook or scullion, but is some dish 
 which I cannot ascertain. My authority is the following epi- 
 gram from Davies : 
 
 He that comes every day, shall have a cocknay, 
 
 And he that comes but now and then, shall have a fat hen. 
 Ep. on Engl. Prov. 179- Wiial. 
 
 ' The Cockney.' The quotation from Decker's News 
 from Hell leads us to the meaning, though not to the par- 
 ticular meaning of Cockenay, or as it is now written Cock- 
 71"!/. To cocker is to pamper, to indulge a person in hia 
 humors. They who had been always kept at home were 
 supposed to be cockered or pampered. Hence the stigma- 
 tizing term in some instances of Cockney i. e. cockered 
 pe/sou. 
 
 It may be necessary to remark that to cocker has at 
 this lime precisely the same meaning that it had in former 
 days. 
 
 The true signification of Cockney, however, 1 take to be 
 simpleton, and not Londoner merely, as is generally con- 
 
150 KING LEAR. ACT II. 
 
 ceived of it. It is compounded, I think, of two French 
 words coq' (contracted of cogue fredouille, a fool, a ninny,) 
 and ne t born. Coq-ne anglice Cockney, i. e. fool-born. 
 This derivation or formation of the term is totally different 
 from any that has gone before ; but when duly considered 
 will not, perhaps, be thought implausible : far-fetched it 
 certainly is not. It should at (he same time be observed 
 that in the quotation from the Tournament of Tottenham, 
 and in Davies's epigram, the word in question has two 
 several meanings : in the one it is spelled Cokenay, and in 
 the other CocTcnay. The fir^t (T. of T.) is Cockney or 
 fool (as explained above) and such zany or Fool was, we 
 know, in former days accustomed to attend at feasts and 
 assemblies, for the amusement of his retainer. The 
 second Cock' nay or Cockeu-ai/ signifies cock's-egg : — that 
 egg, of which, according to the fable, the Cockatrice is en- 
 gendered. It should here be remarked that in Shake- 
 speare's time the Saxon participial and plural termination 
 en was also used to mark the genitive singular : — (Cocken, 
 Cock's) _Ey or ay is egg (ey Teut. an egg.) 1 he lines in 
 Davies are proverbial : the first of which is meant to be 
 expressive of a troublesome person, and is employed at 
 once in the way of censure and banter : the other line is 
 intended to note a totally different character, as the words, 
 * he that comes but now and then,' very plainly shew. 
 The sense of the epigram is certainly this — " The impor- 
 tunate fellow shall be sent away ungratified, or he shall have 
 nothing worth : while the modest one, he that times his 
 visits, shall meet with reward." 
 
 The difficulties in respect of this word cockney, have 
 arisen from its being always written in the same or nearly 
 the same manner, by reason of its sound, though of various 
 import. Thus for instance, * the Cockney' in our author 
 is the foolish cook. It is here formed of Coke (Cook) and 
 niais fr. (foolish) which latter is pronounced ni-ai. Hence 
 Coke-ni-ai — mistakenly printed Cockney. B. 
 
 Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience ; I have 
 hope, 
 You less know how to value her desert, 
 Than she to scant her duty. 
 
SCENE IV. KING LEAR. 151 
 
 Than she to scant her duty. The word scant is directly con- 
 trary to the sense intended. The quarto reads: 
 
 slack her duty, 
 
 which is no better. May we not change it thus : 
 You less know how to value her desert, 
 Than she to scan her duty. 
 To scan may be to measure or proportion. let our author 
 uses his negatives with such licentiousness, that it is hardly 
 safe to make any alteration. — Scant may mean to adapt, to fit, 
 to proportion ; which sense seems still to be retained in the me- 
 chanical term .scantling. John. 
 
 Ilar.mcr had* proposed this change of scant into scan, but 
 surely no alteration is necessary. — The other reading — slack, 
 would answer as well. You less know how to value her desert, 
 than she (knows) to scant her duty, i. e. than she can be capa- 
 ble of being wanting in her duty. Steev. 
 
 What our author intended to say, I have no doubt, was this : 
 
 / have hope that the fact will rather turn out, that you 
 
 know not how to appreciate her merit, than that she knows how 
 to scant, or be deficient in, her duty. But that he has express- 
 ed this sentiment inaccurately, will, I think, clearly appear by 
 inverting the sentence without changing a word. " I have hope 
 (says Regan) that she knows more [or better] how to scant her 
 duty, than you know how to value her desert," i. e. I have hope, 
 that she is more perfect, more an adept (if the expression may 
 be allowed) in the non-performance of her duty, than you are 
 perfect, or accurate, in the estimation of her merit. 
 
 In the Winter's Tale we meet with an inaccuracy of the 
 ante kind : 
 
 " . J ne'er heard yet, 
 
 " That any of these bolder vices tcanted 
 " Lest impudence to gainsay what they did, 
 " Than to perform it." 
 where, as Dr. Johnson has justly observed, " wanted should be 
 had, or less should be more." — Again, in Ci/mbeline ; " — be 
 it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might 
 lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality." Here also 
 lets should certainly be more. 
 Again, in Macbeth ; 
 
 Who cannot xvant the thought how monstrous, 
 It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain 
 To kill their gracious father? 
 In this p.issage, the author evidently should have w-ritten can 
 instead of cannot. Mal. 
 
 " I hope, 
 You less know how to value her desert, 
 Than she to scant her duty." 
 
150. KING LEAR. ACT II. 
 
 Mr, Steevens is right in regard to the above. Dr. 
 Johnson* and Mr. MaJone are wrong, 'i he passage exhi- 
 bits no such sense as — " She knows more, or better how to 
 scant her duty." The meaning, in the text, is perfectly 
 clear. The latter editor is also mistaken when he talks of 
 inaccuracy in the Winter's Tale, Cymbeliue, and Mac- 
 beth. In the first of these we are hot to understand, as 
 he supposes, that vice wanted more impudence to gainsay, 
 &c. The true signification of the i : >.es is this — " 1 never 
 heard that any of these bolder vices required less impudence 
 to enable them to gainsay, &e.'' With respect to the quo- 
 tation from Cymbeliue, see my note, Act J, Scene 5. 
 1 Less' is, however, the proper word. In Macbeth, — e who 
 cannot want,' &c. is not to stand as a question ; the mark 
 of interrogation must therefore be struck out. The imme- 
 diately preceding hemistich — ' Men must not walk too 
 late,' and which is now printed with a full stop at ' late/ 
 should there have a comma. The whole must run thus — 
 " Men must not walk too late, 
 Who cannot want the thought how monstrous 
 It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain, 
 To kill their gracious father.' 
 ' Men must not walk too late at night, who cannot want 
 the thought,' i. e. "Men must not walk when darkness 
 covers the earth, who cannot be Wanting in thought, or who 
 cannot hide their thoughts ;" in other words, " who can- 
 not so conduct themselves as to pretend to see or acknow- 
 ledge how monstrous it was in Malcolm," &.c. The 
 inference to be drawn from which is : that they who 
 should not so pretend or counterfeit, would be in danger 
 from Macbeth. B. 
 
 Lear. Ask her forgiveness? 
 Do you but mark how this becomes the house ? 
 
 Do yo^i but mark how this l>ecoines the house.?] This phrase 
 to me is unintelligible, nnd seems to say nothing to the pur- 
 pose: neither can it mean, how this becomes the order of 
 families. Lear would certainly intend to reply, how does 
 asking my daughter's forgiveness agree with common fashion, 
 the established rule and custom of nature? No doubt, but 
 the poet wrote, becomes the use. And that Shakspeare em- 
 ploys use in this signification, is too obvious to want a proof. 
 Theob. 
 
SCENE IV. KIXG LEAR. 15o 
 
 Do you but mark how this becomes the house ?] Mr. Theo- 
 bald says, "This phrase seems to say little to the purpose ; " 
 and therefore alters it to, — becomes the use, — which signifies 
 less. The Oxford editor makes him still more familiar — be- 
 cometh Us. All this chopping and changing proceeds from an 
 utter ignorance of a great, a noble, and a most expressive 
 phrase,— becomes the house; — which signifies the order of 
 families, duties of relation. Warb. 
 
 With this most expressive phrase I believe no reader is 
 satisfied. I suspect that it has been written originally: 
 Ask her forgiveness ? 
 
 Do you but mark how this becometh — thus. 
 Dear daughter, I confess, &c. 
 Becomes the house, and becometh thus, might be easily con- 
 founded by readers so unskilful as the original printers. John. 
 
 Dr. Warburton's explanation may be supported by the 
 following passage in Milton on Divorce, book ii. ch. xii. 
 " — the restraint whereof, who is not too thick-sighted, may- 
 see how hurtful, how di -tractive, it is to the house, the church, 
 and commonwealth ! " Tollet. 
 
 " Do you but mark how this becomes the house." 
 
 W ith this most expressive phrase, (for most expressive 
 it really is,) every reader must, at least every reader of 
 true judgment, be highly satisfied. The envenomed 
 shafts which Johnson has, on many occasions, thrown at 
 the learned Prelate, recoil with force upon himself. To 
 judge from his preface he is a man of candor ; but what 
 will, become of the declaration there made: " They 
 have all been treated, 8tc." (p. 57-) when set against 
 notes conceived in the temper of that which is now before 
 us ? Jt is not permitted to speak of Dr. W. as of Messrs. 
 S. and T. Attica and Bceotia were not alike in soil or 
 air. B. 
 
 Lear. She hath abated me of half my train ; 
 Look'd black upon me ; struck me with her tongue, 
 Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. 
 
 Look'd black upon me.] To look black, may easily be ex- 
 plain'd to look cloudu or gloomy. See Milton : 
 
 " So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell 
 
 ** Grew darker at their frown." Johx. 
 
 So, Holinshed, Vol. III. p. 11.57: " The bishops 
 
 thereat repined, and looked black." Tollet. 
 
154 KING LEAR. ACT II. 
 
 " Black upon me." Look'd black upon me, is a low 
 and vulgar expression. 1 would read : 
 
 " Look'd blahe upon me." 
 i. e. " coldly, vviihout affection." Tlie darker of Milton 
 is highly expressive, and highly beautiful. B. 
 
 Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my 
 curse : 
 Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give 
 Thee o'er to harshness. 
 
 Thy tender-hefted nature.] Hefted seems to moan the 
 same as heaved. Tender-hefted, i. e. whose bosom is agitated 
 by tender passions. The formation of such a participle, I 
 believe, cannot be grammatically accounted for. Shakspeare 
 uses hefts for hearings in The Winter s Talc, Act II. Both 
 the quartus however read, " tQ\\c\vi-hested nature;" which 
 may mean a nature which is governed by gentle dispositions. 
 Hest is an old word signifying command. So, in The Wars of 
 Cyrus, &c. 1594 : 
 
 " Must yield to hest of others that be free." 
 % Hefted is the reading of the folio. Stekv. 
 " Thy tender-hefted nature." " Tender-hested," i. e. 
 *' tenderly ordained," is unquestionably the right reading. 
 Hest is decree, ordination, established rule. B. 
 
 Lear. 'Tis not in thee 
 To grudge my pleasures, to cut off* my train, 
 To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes. 
 And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt 
 Against my coming in. 
 
 To scant my sizes. To contract my allowances or pro- 
 portions settled. John. 
 
 A sizcr is one of the lowest rank of students at Cambridge, 
 and lives on a stated allowance. 
 
 Sizes arc certain portions of bread, beer, or other victuals, 
 which in public societies are set down to the account of parti- 
 cular persons : a word still used in colleges. Steev. 
 
 " To scant my sizes." Mr. Steevens's ** bread, beer, 
 and other victuals," may not, perhaps, be generally un- 
 derstood. It will, however, receive some illustration 
 from the following extract : "He was bred a sizer or 
 
SCENE IV. KING LEAR. 155 
 
 servitor in the college of Dublin. When too much hur- 
 ried to conclude an epigram, which happened sometimes 
 by the variety of his occupation, in taking away the 
 knives, spoons, forks and other eatables" &c. Epistle to 
 G. E. Howard. B. 
 
 Lear. Who comes here ? O heavens, 
 E filer Goneril. 
 If you do love old men, if your sweet sway- 
 Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
 Make it your cause ; send down, and take my 
 part ! 
 
 If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
 Allow obedience, if yourselves arc old. 
 Mr. Upton has proved by irresistible authority, that to 
 allow signifies not only to permit, but to approve, and has 
 deservedly replaced the old reading, which Dr. Warburton 
 had changed into /tallow obedience, not recollecting the scrip- 
 ture expression, The Lord alloweth the righteous, Psalm xi. 
 ver. 6. So, in Greene's Never too late, l6l6 : " — she allows 
 of thee for love, not for lust." Again, in Greene's Farewell to 
 Follie, 1017: "I alloxo those pleasing poems of Guazzo, 
 which begin, &c." Again, Sir Tho. North's translation of 
 Plutarch, concerning the reception with which the death of 
 Caesar met: "they neither greatly reproved, nor allowed the 
 tact." Dr. Warburton might have found the emendation 
 which he proposed, in Tate's alteration of King Lear, which 
 was first published in 1687. Stkev. 
 
 " O Heavens, 
 
 "If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
 " Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
 " Make it your cause ; send down, and take my part !" 
 " Sway" that shall " allow obedience," (whether the 
 sense of allow be that of permit, or that of approve,) 
 is certainly wrong. It were a waste of words, however, 
 to contend for the latter meaning, since that which 
 Heaven should approve, it would assuredly permit .- I 
 therefore believe that allow should be all oxce (the mis- 
 take having arisen from the sound,) and that transposition 
 should be made as follows : 
 " O Heavens, 
 
156 KING LEAR. ACT III. 
 
 " If you do love old men : if that yourselves are old, 
 " Make it your cause ; send down rnd lake my part! 
 "If your sweet sway, all owe obedience f * 
 It will be seen, I think, that the train of thought is 
 here more regular than in the text. " Take my part/' is 
 not as the Editors imagine, standby, or side with me, but 
 " take my kingly part, assume my earthly dominion," 
 This the words " make it your cause," and particularly 
 " send down," i. e. a delegate) will surely imply ; for had 
 the meaning been " assist me," the poet would, no doubt, 
 have written " look down and take," &.c. " watch and 
 take care of." 
 
 " If you?' sweet sway, all owe obedience," that is, 
 " you [Heaven] having taken the rule instead of me, 
 obedience will necessarily follow with all. The further 
 implied meaning will be — that the hearts of his daugh- 
 ters would thus be turned from wickedness," and that 
 comfort might yet be his. The " hallow " of Warburton 
 is out of the question. B. 
 
 Kent. But, tnie it is, from France there comes a 
 power 
 Into this scatter 'd kingdom ; who already, 
 Wise in our negligence, have secret fee 
 In some of our best ports, and are at point 
 To show their open banner. 
 
 -from France there comes a power 
 
 Into this scatter'd kingdom ; -who already. 
 
 Wise in our negligence, have secret sea 
 
 In some of our best ports. — • 
 Scatter'd kingdom, if it have any sense, gives us the idea of a 
 kingdom fallen intp an anarchy : but that was not the case. 
 It ■submitted quietly to the government of Lear's two sous in 
 law. It was divided, indeed, by this means, and so hurt, and 
 weaken'd. And this was what Shakspeare meant to say, who, 
 without doubt, wrote : . 
 
 scathed kingdom ; -\ 
 
 i. e. hurt, wounded, impaired. And so he frequently uses 
 scath for hurt or damage. Again, what a strange phrase is, 
 having sea in a port, to signify a fleet's lying at anchor : which 
 
SCENE II. KING LEAR. IJ7 
 
 is all it can signify. And what is stranger still, a secret sea, 
 that is, lying incognito, like the army at Knight's Bridge iu 
 The Rehearsal. Without doubt the Poet wrote : 
 
 have secret seize 
 
 In some of our best ports ; 
 
 i. e. they are secretly secure of some of the best ports, by having 
 a party i-i the garrison ready to second any attempt of their 
 friends, &c. The exactness of the expression is remarkable; 
 he says, secret seize in some, not of same. For the first im- 
 plies a conspiracy ready to seize a place on warning, the other, 
 a place already seized. Waul. 
 
 The learned critic's enunciations are now to be examined. 
 Scattered he hag changed to scathed : for scattered, he says, 
 gives the idea of an anarchy, which teas not the case. It is un- 
 worthy a lover of truth, in questions of great or little moment, 
 fo exaggerate or extenuate for mere convenience, or for vanity 
 yet less than convenience. Scattered naturally means divided, 
 unsettled, disunited. — Next is offered with great pomp a change 
 of sea to seize ; but in the first edition the word is fee, for hire, 
 in the sense of having any one in fee, that is, at devotion for 
 money. Fee is in the second quarto changed to see, from 
 which one made sea and another seize. .loiix. 
 
 4 From France there comes a power,' &c. ' A scattered 
 kingdom, 'as Warburton has already insinuated, has scarcely 
 any meaning : and scathed the reading proposed by him, 
 accords not, as Johnson Observes, with the then condition 
 of the country. Tne words immediately following — 
 * wise io our negligence,' direct us to read — ' Satured(i.e. 
 saturated) kingdom.' The meaning of the whole will be — 
 " a kingdom grown indolent as from satiety or reple- 
 tion." B. 
 
 Lear. Close pent-up guilts, 
 
 Rive your concealing continents. 
 
 — concealing continents, — ] Continent stands for that which 
 contains or incloses. Jonx. 
 
 The quartos read, concealed centers. Steev. 
 
 ' Continents.' ' Concealing Continents' has very little 
 force compared with ' concealed centers,' the true and 
 proper reading. The center, with anatomists, is the 
 heart. " May close pent-up guilts, says Lear, tear in 
 pieces your deceitful hearts." B. 
 
158 .KIXG LEAH. ACT III. 
 
 Fool. He that has a little tiny wit, — 
 
 With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain—- 
 ]\fust make content with his fortunes fit ; 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 He that has a little tiny wit, — ] I fancy that the second 
 line of this stanza had once a termination that rhymed with 
 the fourth; but I can only fancy it; for both the copies 
 agree. It was once perhaps written, 
 
 With heigh ho, the wind and the rain in his way. 
 The meaning seems likewise to require this insertion. " He 
 that has wit, however small, and finds wind and rain in his way, 
 must content himself by thinking that somewhere or other it 
 raineth every day, and others are therefore suffering like him- 
 self." Yet I am afraid that all this is chimerical, for the bur- 
 then appears again in the song at the end of Twelfth Night, and 
 seems to have been an arbitrary supplement, without any refe- 
 rence to the sense of the song. John. 
 
 i He that has a little tiny wit.' — I think with Johnson 
 that a rhyme is wanting in the second line of this song. 
 We may print rain-a as in burlesque poetry : and which 
 will suit exceedingly well with the present character. B. 
 
 Edg. Saint Withold footed thrice the wold ; 
 He met the night-mare, and her ninefold* 
 Bid her alight, 
 And her troth plight, 
 And, Aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee ? 
 
 Saint Withold footed thrice the xcold, 
 He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold, 
 Bid her alight, and her troth plight, 
 And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee /] 
 
 We should read it thus : 
 
 Saint Withold footed thrice the wold, 
 He met the night-mare, and her name told, 
 Bid her alight, and her troth plight, 
 And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee right. 
 
 i. e. depart forthwith. Ware. 
 
 In the old quarto the corruption is such as may deserve to he 
 
 noted. " Swithald footed thrice the olde anelthu night moore 
 
 and her nine fold bid her, O light and her troth plight and 
 
 arint thee, with arint thee." John. 
 
SCEXE V. KING LEAR. 159 
 
 There is no occasion for Dr. Warburton's reading, 
 " aroynt thee right," or depart forthzcith. How aroynt 
 •rould ever be supposed to have the sense of depart, I 
 have not been able to discover. B. 
 
 Edg. Child Rowland to the dark timer came. 
 
 Child Rout/ind ] In the old times of chivalry, 
 
 the noble youth who were candidates for knightho'on, during the 
 season of their probation, were called In fans, Varlets, Damoy- 
 sels, B'iclicliers. The most noble of the youth particularly, In- 
 fans: Here a story is told, in some old ballad, of the famous 
 hero and giant-killer Roland, before he was knighted, who is, 
 therefore, called Infans : which the ballad-maker translated 
 Child Roland. \V.\ R.B. 
 
 This word is in some of our ballads. There is a song of 
 Chdil Waller, and a Lady. Jonx. 
 
 ' Child Rowland to the dark tower came.' Warburton's 
 explication is in part satisfactory : but it must be observed 
 that the epithet child was formerly applied to the Knight at 
 all times, that is, however long his standing might have 
 been. The whole of the mattcT is this : ' Child' is the 
 Spanish cid, i. e. brave, valiant, or it may be understood 
 of the two Saxon words, Cid [contracted of Cidere] and 
 Cild, confounded perhaps together — the first signifying 
 a chider, a reprover, and by courtesy a hero : the 
 second a t7i//e? ; 'according to the ordinary acceptation. B. 
 
 Com. I now perceive, it was not altogether your 
 brother's evil disposition made him seek his death ; 
 but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reprovable 
 badness in himself. 
 
 but a provoking merit t] i. e. A merit which being neg- 
 lected by the father, was provoked to an extravagant act. The 
 Oxford editor, not understanding this, alters it to provoked 
 spirit. Ward. 
 
 I'roxuking, here means stimulating ; a merit he felt in him- 
 self, which irritated him against a father that had none. 
 
 Monck Ma so v. 
 
 1 But a provoking merit.' The Editors do not under- 
 stand this passage. Cornwall is not talking of Edgar's 
 
16*0 KING LEAR- ACT III. 
 
 seeking the death of his father, but of the father's seeking 
 the death of his son. B. 
 
 Edg. Look, where he stands and glares !■— 
 Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam ? 
 
 Wantest, &c] I am not confident that I understand the 
 meaning of this desultory speech. When Edgar says, Look 
 •where he stands and glares ! lie seems to be speaking in the 
 character of a mad man, who thinks he sees the fiend. Want- 
 est thou eyes at trial, madam ? is a question which appears to 
 be addressed to the visionary Goneril, or some other abandoned 
 female, and may signify, Do you xoant to attract admiration 
 even while you stand at the bar of justice? Mr. Seward propo- 
 ses to read, wanton'st instead of wantest. Steev. 
 
 At trial, madam ?~\ It may be observe;! that Edgar, being 
 supposed to be found by chance, and therefore to have no know- 
 ledge of the rest, connects not his ideas with those of Lear, but 
 pursues his own train of delirious or fantastic thought. To 
 these words, At trial, madam ? I think therefore that the name 
 of Lear should be put. The process of the dialogue will sup- 
 port this conjecture. John. 
 
 'Wantest thou eyes at trial V I think with Mr. Stee- 
 vens, that ' see how he glares !' means see liozo the fiend 
 glares, but ' wantest thou eyes at trial madam, ?' I do not 
 understand. We may surely read, 
 
 ' Wantest thou gies at trial, madam :' 
 
 Lear, in his frenzy, is proceeding to the trial of his 
 daughters. Edgar instantly pretends to see the foul 
 fiend, and in an apostrophe to the absent daughters and 
 supposing that one of them is arraigned, he says ; " Do 
 you want Directors, madam ?" — " are you in want of 
 counsel ?'_' — The implication is sufficiently seen. B. 
 
 Edg. Do de, de de. Sessy, come, march to 
 wakes and fairs, and market towns : 
 
 Sessey, come, &c. Here is scssey again, which I take to be 
 the French word cessez pronounced cessey, which was, I sup- 
 pose, like some others in common use among us. It is an in- 
 terjection enforcing cessation of an^ action, like be quiet, have 
 done. It seems to have been gradually corrupted into, so, so. 
 Warb. 
 
 This word is wanting in the quarto : in the folio it is printed 
 
SCENE VI. KING LEAR. 161 
 
 sese. It, is difficult in this place to say what is meant by it. 
 It should he remembered, that just before, Edgar had been 
 calling on Bessy to come to him ; and he may now with equal 
 propriety invite Sessy (perhaps a female name corrupted from 
 Cecilia) to attend him to wnkes and fairs. Nor is it impossi- 
 ble but that this may be a part of some old song, and origi- 
 nally\stood thus : 
 
 Sissy, come march to wakes, 
 And fairs, and market towns. — Steev. 
 " Do de, dc, de" — in the language of Tom will mean 
 give, give, — se se. (full stop.) " give, give to him, or him- 
 self, i.e. to poor Tom, the real and true poor To hi." 
 In like manner he says in. a former scene: " Who gives 
 any thing to poor Tom f do de, do de, bless thee 
 from star-blasting and taking : do poor Tom some cha- 
 rity, &c\" This reading appears the more plausible, 
 as he almost always speaks in the third person. Se se 
 being joined together, as in the folio, the following printer 
 made sessy of them, from the sound. In the songs it is 
 sissy, (abrev.) Cicily. 
 
 ** Come, march to wakes and fairs, and market towns," 
 is probably part of a ballad. — " Dolphin, my boy, Sessy." 
 Here the french word cessez is, no doubt, employed : and 
 the same in the Taming of the Shrew. B. 
 
 Glo. Take up, take up : 
 And follow me. 
 
 Take up, take vp.] One of the quartos reads — Take up 
 the king, &c. — the other — Take up to keep, &c. Steev. 
 
 " Take up, take up : and follow me." The " keep" 
 of the quarto is right, — only that we must read, " to the 
 keep," that is, bear away the king to the keep or inner 
 fort of Dover Castle. This is said by Gloster in the 
 persuasion that Lear would there be in safety. The con- 
 text will show that this is the true reading. B. » 
 
 Ktnt. This rest might yet have balin'd thy bro- 
 ken senses. 
 
 Thy broken senses.] The quarto, from whence this speech is 
 taken, reads, — thy broken sinews. Senses is the conjectural 
 •mendation of Theobald. Steev. 
 
 " This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses." 
 The " senses of Theobald must not be admitted. 
 
 SlIAK. I. L 
 
162 KING LEAH. ACT JIT, 
 
 u Sinews " the reading of die quarto is in mistake for 
 sinus, i. e. the meninx or skin which incloses the brain. 
 Tins skin is here supposed to be injured [broken] and 
 hence the distraction of Lear ; and which Kent imagines 
 may be c balmed,' and perhaps remedied, by sleep. We 
 often say, crack-brained, to signify madness : an expres- 
 sion equivalent to the * broken sinus' of the text. B. 
 
 Corn. Pinion him like a thief, bring him before 
 us ; — 
 
 Though well we may not pass upon his life 
 
 Without the form of justice. 
 
 Though uell ice may not pass upon his life,} 
 To pass, is to pass a judicial sentence. John". 
 
 The original of the expression, to pass on any one may be 
 traced from Magna Charta : 
 
 " nee super eum ibimus, nisi per legale judicium pa- 
 
 rium suorum." 
 
 It is common to most of our early writers. So, in Acolas- 
 tus, a comedy, 1520 : " I do not nowe consider the myschiev- 
 ous pageants he hath played ; I do not now passe upon them." 
 Again, in If this be not a good Play, the Devil is in It, lfjl2: 
 "A jury of brokers, impanel'd, and deeply sworne to passe 
 on all villains in hell." Steev. 
 
 " Though well we may not pass upon his life." 
 
 " Pass upon his life," is not pass sentence. The ex- 
 pression is from the fencing school [pass — thrust.] It is 
 the same as strike at, upon his life ; and which is fre- 
 quently used at the present day. B. 
 
 Corn. Bind fast his corky arms. 
 
 Corky arms.] Dry, wither'd, husky arms. John. 
 
 As Shakspeare appears trom other passages of this play to 
 have had in his eye Bishop Harsenet's Declaration of egregious 
 Popish Impostures, Sec. l6()3. 4to. it is probable, that this 
 very expressive, but peculiar epithet, corky, was suggested to 
 him by a passage in that very curious pamphlet. " It would 
 pose all the cunning exorcists, that are this day to be found, 
 to teach an old corkie woman to writhe, tumble, curvet, and 
 fetch her morice gamboles, as Martha Biessier (one of the 
 possessed mentioned in the pamphlet) did." Percy. 
 " Bind fast his corky arms." 
 
 I rather think that corky signifies large, puffy- Cor- 
 cous in old language is corpulent, gross of body. When 
 

 <: SCENE T. KING LEAR. 1 63 
 
 the passage from Harsenet, as quoted by Dr. Percy, is well 
 considered, it will be found that corhie can have no other 
 sense than fat, unwieldy. Had the woman described 
 been dry or withered, she might have tumbled and cur- 
 vetted easily enough. " Corkie " for corceus. So for 
 nervous, he sometimes writes nervy, and the same of 
 other words. B, 
 
 Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be con- 
 temn 'd 
 Than still contemn'd and flattered. To be worst, 
 The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune, 
 Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear : 
 The lamentable change is from the best ; 
 The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then, 
 Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace ! 
 The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst, 
 Owes nothing to thy blasts. 
 
 Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd.] The meaning 
 is : " Tis better to be thus contemned, and known to yourself 
 to be contemned." Or perhaps there is an error, which 
 may be rectified thus : 
 
 Yet better thus unknoven to be contemn'd. 
 When a man divests himself of his real character he feels no 
 pain from contempt, because he supposes it incurred only by a 
 voluntary disguise which he can throw off at pleasure. 1 do 
 not think any correction necessary. John. 
 
 I cannot help thinking that this passage should be written 
 thus:" 
 
 Yet better thus unknown to be contemn'd, 
 Than still contemn'd and flatter'd to be worse. 
 The lowest, &c. 
 The quarto edition has no stop after flatter 'd. The first folio, 
 which has a comma there, has a colon at the end of the line. 
 
 The expression in this speech — owes nothing to thy blasts — 
 (in a more learned writer) might seem to be copied from Virgil 
 JEn. xi. 51 : 
 
 " Nos jurenem exanhi.um, et nil jam coelestibus ullis 
 " Debentem, vano masti comitamur honore." Tyrw. 
 Lives not in fear. So in Milton's Par. Reg. Book III. 
 *' For where no hope is left, is left no fear." Steet\ 
 
If5-J KING LEAR. ACT IV. 
 
 " Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd. — 
 A slight correction will be necessary, in order to give con- 
 sistency to the general reasoning of Edgar. 1 read and 
 point thus : 
 
 " Vet better thus, and known to be contemned, 
 
 " Than still contemn'd and llatter'd ; To be worst. 
 
 " The lowest," &c. 
 The sense of the passage is this : " It is better thus to 
 know myself contemned, than to be contemned, yet not 
 know it by reason of the flatteries which might be poured 
 on me. [" To be worst,"] for that is, in fact, to be in 
 the worse condition." He then goes on : "There is no 
 one, however abject, however low in fortune, that does not 
 live in hope : so that the want of earthly comforts, and 
 which is commonly considered as worst, is not such in 
 reality: the -worst is, to be contemned and jiattered." 
 When he says : " Welcome, unsubstantial air, to the 
 wretch whom thou hast blown unto the worst : " he uses 
 the expression according to the notion entertained of the 
 zcorst by the worldling, so different from that of the philo- 
 sophic mind. 
 
 Mr. Steevens's citation from Milton is curious. An 
 illustration where the sense is directly the reverse of that 
 in our author's text ! B. 
 
 Edg. World, world, O world ! 
 
 But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
 Life would not yield to age. 
 
 World, world, O world ! 
 
 But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,] 
 
 The reading of this passage has been explained, but not 
 satisfactorily. My explanation of the poet's sentiment was, 
 " If the number of changes and vicissitudes, which happen in 
 life, did not make us wait, and hope for some turn of fortune 
 for the -better, we could never support the thought of living to 
 be old, on any other terms." And our duty, as human crea- 
 tures, is piously inculcated in this reflection of the author. J 
 read therefore, make its wait thee. Theob. 
 
 O world ! 
 
 But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
 Life would not yield to age.] 
 
 The sense of this obscure passage is, O world ! so much arc 
 human minds captivated with tby pleasures, that were it not 
 
SCENE I. KING LEAR. \65 
 
 for those successive miseries, each worse than the other, which 
 overload the scenes of life, we should never be willing to sub- 
 mit to death, though the infirmities of old age would teach us 
 to chuse it as a proper asylum. Besides, by uninterrupted 
 prosperity, which leaves the mind at ease, the body would 
 generally preserve such a state of vigor as to bear up long 
 against the decays of time. These are the two reasons, I sup- 
 pose, why he said, 
 
 Life would not yield to age. 
 And how much the pleasures of the body pervert the mind's 
 judgment, and the perturbations of the mind disorder the body's 
 frame, is known to all. Warb. 
 
 Yield to signifies no more than give way to, sink under, in 
 opposition to the .struggling xvit/i, bearing up against the infir- 
 mities of age. Han. 
 
 " O world ! 
 
 " But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
 
 " Life would not yield to age." 
 
 It is wholly impossible that such an expression as ' life 
 would not yield to age,' should have fallen from the pen 
 of Shakspeare. He was top much of a philosopher, too 
 well acquainted with the order of nature to employ it as 
 her language, or to think of establishing it for a truth. I 
 should suppose, indeed, that scarcely any one who had the 
 discourse of reason, would talk in such a manner : yet the 
 editors, by attempting to explain the present reading, appear 
 to be of a different opinion. The passage is slightly cor- 
 rupt. ' Life' should be lefe, i e. love, particular regard 
 to. By 'strange mutations' I understand good enjoyed 
 for a time, and then suddenly succeeded by evil. The 
 whole may be interpreted as follows — " O world ! thou 
 hast many attractions ; and we should not fail to love thee, 
 even to our latest years ; were it not that thou unconcern- 
 edly seest us thrown, nay often helpest to throw us, from 
 the summit of prosperity to the pit of adversity — by 
 which we are the rather led to hate thee.'' As to the expli- 
 cation of Hamper, it does nothing in the case : the physi- 
 cal objection will yet remain. B. 
 
 Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. — I cannot daub it 
 further. Aside. 
 
 I cannot daub ii ] i. e. Disguise. Waub. 
 
 ' 1 cannot daub it further.' " I cannot fool it any 
 longer." Dauber, fr. to fool, to banter. B. 
 
\66 KING LEAR. ACT IT. 
 
 GIo. Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man, 
 That slaves your ordinance, that will not see 
 Because he cloth not feel, feel your power quickly ; 
 
 That slaves your ordinance, ] Superfluous is herc used 
 
 for one living in abundance. But the next line is corrupt. 
 The only sense I know of, in which slaves your ordinance can 
 be understood, is when men employ the form or semblance of 
 religion to compass their ill designs. But this will not do here. 
 Gloster is speaking of such who by an uninterrupted course of 
 prosperity are grown wanton, and callous to the misfortunes of 
 others ; such as those who fearing no reverse, slight and neg- 
 lect, and therefore may be said to brave the ordinance of 
 heaven: which is certainly the right reading. And this is 
 the second time in which slaves has, in this play, been read for 
 braves. Waub. 
 
 The emendation is plausible, yet I doubt whether it be right. 
 The language of Shakspeare is very licentious, and his words 
 have often meanings remote from the proper and original use. 
 To slave or beslave another is to treat him uith tams oj indig- 
 nity : in a kindred sense, to slave the ordinance, may be, to 
 slight ox ridicule it. John. 
 
 ' That slaves your ordinance.' 'Slave' in. both the passa- 
 ges quoted by Mr. Steevensis enslave: but that is a sense 
 which will not suit here, for v. e cannot talk of enslaving 
 an ordinance. There is little doubt but that the Poet 
 wrote : 
 
 ' Who stives your ordinance.' 
 
 To slive is an old word signifying to creep or go about 
 dronishly. " Let the man," says Shak?peare, " who is in- 
 different to, or negligeut of your decrees, quickly feel your 
 power." B. 
 
 Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for 
 shame, 
 Be-monster not thy feature. 
 
 Thou changed, and self-cover'd thing, — ] Of these lines there 
 is but one copy, and the editors are forced upon conjecture. 
 They have published this line thus : 
 
 Thou chang'd and self-converted thing; 
 but I cannot but think that by self-cover'd the author meant, 
 

 SCENE III. KING LEAR. 367 
 
 thou that hast disguised naroro by wickedness: thon that hast 
 /«W the woman under the Send. Joilx. 
 
 I think it not improbable but that the poet might write 
 " self-convict," (contraction of self-convicted,) alluding to 
 her open and violent abuse of her father. 15. 
 
 Gon. But being widow, and my Gloster with 
 her, 
 May all the building in my fancy pluck 
 Upon my hateful life. 
 
 ' Upon my hateful life/ ' Hateful" life' is not, in this 
 place, a life which causes abhorrence, but one which is 
 abhorrent, which is filled with hate. B. 
 
 Gent. Patience and sorrow strove 
 
 Who should express her goodliest. You have 
 
 seen 
 Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears 
 Were like a better day. 
 
 -her miles and tears 
 
 Were like a better day. ] 
 
 It is plain, we should read, ■ — a xoetter May. 
 
 i. e. A spring season wetter than ordinary. Ware. 
 
 We should read, 
 
 " the better day." 
 
 The sense is then sufficiently clear. 
 
 " You have seen," says the gentleman, " sunshine and 
 rain at once : Cordelia's smiles and tears were like the 
 better day," i. e. like to that day in which sunshine prevails 
 over rain. B P 
 
 Kent. Made she no verbal question? 
 
 Made she no verbal question ?] Dr. Warburton would substi- 
 tute quest, from the Latin questus, i. e. complaint : because, 
 says he, what kind of question could she make but verbal. Stebv. 
 
 I do not see the impropriety of verbal question: such pleo- 
 nasms are common. So we say, my ears have heard, my eyes 
 have beheld. Besides, where is the word quest to be found ? 
 John. 
 
168 KING LEAK. ACT IV. 
 
 1 Verbal question.' ' Verbal' is here used in the sense 
 of Terbose : ' was she not exuberant in words r was she 
 not prolix — particular in her questions ?' This may well 
 be supposed of Cordelia, and the more so by Kent, who 
 knew her goodness and love of her father. And we find, 
 indeed, that such were her inquiries — " What ! i' the storm ? 
 i' the night ?" B. 
 
 Gent, What ? i the storm f i the night ? 
 Let pity not be beliexed ! There she shook 
 The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
 And clamor moisten'd her ; then away she started 
 To deal with grief alone. 
 
 Let pity not be believed /] i. e. Let not such a thing as pity 
 he supposed to exist! Thus the old copies ; but the modem 
 editors have hitherto read, 
 
 Let pity not believe it ! Steev. 
 
 " Let pity not be believed " I should prefer beleved,. 
 i. e. left, abandoned. 
 
 " Let pity not be beleved ! " 
 i. e. " I ti not pity be abandoned ! let not pity be, 
 wbolhj ti i own off as unworthy of us." 15. 
 
 And clamor moisten'd.'] It is n- t impossible but Shak- 
 spenn might ha\e formed this tine picture of Cordelia's agony 
 from holy yvrii, in the conduct of Joseph ; who, being no 
 longer able to restrain the vehemence of his affection, com- 
 manded ail his retinue from his presence; and then wept 
 aloud, and discovered himself to his brethren. Tijeob. 
 
 Clan, or moistcy'd her ;] that is, hir out-cries uere accom* 
 panted uit/i tears. John. 
 
 " And clamor moistened her." I do not like this 
 f fine picture " ot a lady moistened by clamor. Beside, 
 enough had been already said of Cordelia's tears. 1 rt;ad : 
 
 " And clamoi motion' d her. Then away she started 
 
 " To pine with grie> done." 
 i. e. " She became agitated with passion, or seized with a 
 kind of phrensy : after which she started away to mourn 
 alone." A natural and beautiful picture ! B. 
 
 Kent. Well, Sir : The poor distressed Lear is 
 i' the town : 
 
SCENE VT. KING LEAR, 169 
 
 Who sometimes, in his better tune, remembers 
 What we arc come about, and by no means 
 Will yield to see his daughter. 
 
 " Who sometimes in his better tune remembers." 
 This u better tuue " should be better " lune, " i. e. some 
 remission of his madness, of his lunatic lit. B. 
 
 Cor. O dear father, 
 It is thy business that I go about ; 
 Therefore great France 
 My mourning, and important tears, hath pitied. 
 
 Important. .] In other places of this author for importunate. 
 John. 
 
 " Important tears " mean not that she was zvhining or 
 importunate : beside, she had already mentioned her 
 mourning. " Important tears " signify the greatness, the 
 importance of her cause ; a cause that had for its object 
 no less than the preservation of her father's life. B. 
 
 Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky 
 bourn : 
 Look up a-height ; — the shrill-gorg'd lark so far 
 Cannot be seen or heard. 
 
 Chalky bourn.] Bourn seems here to signify a hill. Its 
 common signification is a brook. Milton in Co/nus uses 
 bosky bourn, in the same sense perhaps with Shakspeare. But 
 in both authors it may mean only a boundary. John. 
 
 " Chalky bourn" — we should read " borne," a bound- 
 ary, to distinguish it from bourn, a brook or river. 
 Bourn, as Dr. Johnson observes, is in this place a hill. 
 
 Hills, it is well known, serve in several parts of the 
 world as boundaries of particular countries, such are the 
 Alps, the Pyrenees, &c. 8CC. The term borne, therefore, 
 which originally signified nothing more than boundary, 
 was at length corruptedly employed to signify the hill 
 itself — and thence " chalky borne bosky borne," &c. B„ 
 
 Edg. Therefore, thou happy father, 
 
170 KING LEAR. ACT IV. 
 
 Think that the clearest gods, who make them 
 
 honors 
 Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. 
 
 The clearest gods — The purest ; the most free from evil. 
 John. 
 
 I should think the poet wrote " dearest gods." He 
 frequently applies the epithet dear to the gods. The c 
 and /, in clearest, when joined, make a perfect d. B. 
 
 Lear. O, well-flown, bird ! — i' the clout, i' the 
 clout : hewgh ! — 
 
 (7, well flown, bird !] Lear is here raving of archery, and 
 shooting at buts, as is plain by the words i the clout, lhat h f 
 the white mark they set up and aim at : hence the phrase, to 
 hit the white. So that wc must read, 0, well-flown, barb ? 
 i» e. the barbed or bearded arrow. Warb. 
 
 " Well-flown bird." There is no connection in this 
 speech of Lear, no regular train of reasoning. Bird 
 may therefore stand, and for the Falconer's expression. B. 
 
 Lear. Behold yon' simpering dame, 
 Whose face between her forks piesageth snow ; 
 That minces virtue, and does shake the head 
 To hear of pleasure's name. 
 
 Whose face between her forks.] The construction is noj 
 c< whose face between her forks, &c." but " whose face pre- 
 sages snow between hot forks. So in Timon, Act IV. sc. hi. 
 iC Whose blush does thaw the consecrated snow 
 " That lies on Dian's lap.'*' Canons af Criticism. 
 
 To preserve the modesty of Mr. Edwards's happy -'jxp la na- 
 tion, I can only hint a reference to the word iourcheure in 
 Cotgrave's Dictionary. Steev. 
 
 u Whose face between her forks.' 
 
 This f happy explanation of Mr. Edwards,' as Mr. S. 
 is pleased to call it, must be considered as singularly vn- 
 happy, — to say little in regard of its modesty : —for 
 should this modest interpretation be admitted, we must of 
 necessity read fork. If forks, however, must be retained 
 in the text, Warburton's explication will be the true one. 
 But I am still of opinion that f forks ' should be forks, 
 
SCENE IV. KING LEAK. 171 
 
 i. e. fears, terrors — (the word is found in Chaucer) and 
 
 that the reading should be as follows : 
 
 " Behold yon dame, whose face presages snow ; 
 
 (< That minces virtue, and does shake the head 
 
 " At pleasures name, — simpering between her ferks." 
 
 11 Behold yon dame : observe her affected coyness and 
 
 modesty : note her well, and [between her ferks] amid 
 
 all her fears and terrors, you shall yet find her simpering 
 
 at the name of pleasure." B. 
 
 Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom ; 
 what ? 
 I will be jovial. 
 
 " Die bravely like a bridegroom," and " I will be 
 jovial," must be wrong. We may read : " I will bid 
 bravely," i. e. " 1 will invite many and be jovial." When 
 we recollect «.hat the types were ill-shaped in Shakspeare's 
 time, and the printing bad, the mistake is easily made. B» 
 
 Edg. Reads the letter. 
 
 Let our reciprocal tows be remembered. You 
 have many opportunities to cut him off: if your 
 will want not, time and place will be fruitfully 
 offered. There is nothing done, if he return the 
 conqueror : then am I the prisoner, and his bed 
 my gaol ; from the loathed warmth whereof de- 
 liver me, and supply the place for your labor. 
 Your (w'fe, so I would say) affectionate servant, 
 
 Goneril. 
 
 Affectionate servant."] After servant, one of the quartos lias 
 
 this strange continuation: " and for you her owne for 
 
 venter," Goncrill. Steev. 
 
 " Affectionate servant." This " strange continuation," as 
 Mr. Steevens calls it, and which, from his having marked 
 venter in Italics, it may be presumed, he considers as 
 paw-pare, should certainly be restored to the text. As it 
 now stands, it is, no doubt, unintelligible. The whole of 
 
172 KING LEAR. ACT V. 
 
 the matter, however, is this : " for venter " must be 
 written foventer, i. e. cherisher, supporter. Shakspeare 
 has formed the word from the Latin foveo, and by the 
 same analogy as nourisher is formed from nutrio, and 
 mover from moveo. Goneril would insinuate to Edmund, 
 that she cherishes or takes care of herself for his sake. 
 " And for you her own foventer," i. e. " And for you, 
 or your sake, the cherisher of herself." B. 
 
 Cor. O thou good Kent, bow shall I live, and 
 work, 
 To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short, 
 And every measure fail me. 
 
 Exery measure fail me.] All good which I shall allot thee, 
 or measure out to thee, will be scanty. John. 
 
 " Measure " here is effort, endeavour. Measures ta- 
 ken. " Every thing 1 may devise or plan for thy advan- 
 tage," &c. B. 
 
 Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose 
 hold ; 
 Or whether since he is aclvis'd by aught 
 To change the course ; He's full of alteration. 
 And self-reproving 
 
 — of alteration.] One of the quartos read, 
 
 of abdication. Steev. 
 
 — ' Of alteration.' Full of alteration is a very feeble exr 
 pression. I think the i abdication' of the quarto may 
 
 be printed in mistake, for abjection. Read 
 
 " He is full of abjection, 
 " And self- reproving." 
 i. e. " He is ever despairing, mean-spirited, and a self-re- 
 prover, &c." 
 
 Yet ' full of abdication' may be right, meaning — 
 eager to give up his power, to lay down his state. B. 
 
 Edm. The enemy's., in view, draw up your 
 powers. 
 
SCENE IT. KING LEAR. 173 
 
 Here is the guess of their true strength and forces 
 By diligent discovery. 
 
 Here is the guess, &c] The modern editors read, Hard is 
 the guess. So the quartos. But had the discovery been dili- 
 gent, the guess could not have proved so difficult. I have 
 given the true reading from the folio. SrEiiv. 
 
 ' Here is the guess.' But if discovery was made, it could 
 not be a guess. We must read guise (guise, facon, fr.) 
 .form, fashion. " Here is the fashion, form or order of 
 their battle." B. 
 
 Edg. What, in ill thoughts again r 1 Men must 
 endure 
 Their going hence, even as their coming hither : 
 Ripeness is all. 
 
 Ripeness is all. — ] i. e. To be ready, prepared, is all. 
 The same sentiment occurs in Hamlet, scene the last : 
 " — if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness 
 is all." Steev. 
 1 Ripeness is all.' Are we not by ' ripeness,' to under- 
 stand old age ? " It is not permitted us to seek out death i 
 we must wait his coming. " B. 
 
 Edg. Let us exchange charity, 
 I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund ; 
 
 Let us exchange charity.] Our author by negligence gives his 
 heathens the sentiments and practices of Christianity. In 
 Hamlet there is the same solemn act of final reconciliation, but 
 with exact propriety, for the personages are Christians : 
 " Exchange forgiveness withmie, noble Hamlet," &c. John. 
 
 ' Let us exchange charity.' This objection of Johnson 
 is frivolous. Charity (that is, the love of his fellow) 
 might be known as well to the Pagan as to the Christian. 
 Whether the theological virtue has been better practised, 
 is a question not to be resolved here. B. 
 
 Edg. This would have seem'd a period 
 
 To such as love not sorrow ; but, another ;— 
 
174 KING LEAS. ACT V. 
 
 To amplify too-much, would make much more, 
 And top extremity 
 
 This would have seem'd a period 
 
 To such as love vot sorrow : but another, > 
 
 To amplify too much, would make much more, 
 And top extremity ! 
 The reader easily sees that this reflection refers to the Bastard's 
 desiring to hear more; and to Albany's thinking he had said 
 enough. But it is corrupted into miserable nonsense. We 
 should read it thus : 
 
 This would have seem'd a period. But such 
 As love to amplify another's sorrow, 
 To much, would make much more, and top extremity. 
 i. e. This to a common humanity would have been thought 
 the utmost of my sufferings; but such as love cruelty are 
 always for adding- much to more, till they reach the extre- 
 mity of misery. Warb. 
 
 " This would have seem'd a period," &c. The passage 
 is rendered obscure, by misplacement of a few of the 
 words, and from not having thrown them into parenthesis. 
 I regulate it thus : 
 
 " This would have seem'd a period 
 " To such as love not sorrow : but, another ; — 
 " (Too much to amplify !) would make much more, 
 " And top extremity. " 
 Thus arranged, the lines require no explication whatever : 
 the meaning is level to all. 
 
 They seem to be spoken aside. B. 
 
 Kent. Is this the promis'd end? 
 Eds:. Or image of that horror ? 
 Alb. Fall, and cease ! 
 
 Or image, &c] These two exclamations are given to Ed- 
 gar and Albany in the folio, to animate the dialogue, and em- 
 ploy all the persons on the stage ; but they are very obscure. 
 John. 
 
 Or image of that horror f\ In the first folio this short 
 speech of Edgar (which seems to be only an addition to the 
 preceding one of Kent) has a full stop at the end. " Is this 
 conclusion," says Kent, " such as the present turn of affairs 
 seemed to promise ? Or is it only," replies Edgar, " a repre- 
 sentation of that horror which we suppose to be real ? " A 
 similar expression occurs at the beginning of the play. — " I 
 have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly j no» 
 thing like the image and horror of it." Steev. 
 
SCENE II. KING LEAR. 17 5 
 
 It appears to mo, that by the promised end Kent does not 
 mean that conclusion which the state of their affairs seemed 
 to promise, but the end of the world. In St. Mark's gospel, 
 when Christ forctels to his disciples the end of the world, 
 and is describing to them the signs that were to precede and 
 mark the approach of our final dissolution, he says, " For in 
 those flays shall be affliction, such as was. not from the begin- 
 ning of the creation, which God created, unto this time, 
 neither shall be:" and afterwards, he says, " Now the bro- 
 ther shall betray the brother to death ; and the father the 
 son ; and children shad rise up against their parents and shall 
 cause them to be put to deal h." Kent, in contemplating the 
 unexampled scene of exquisite affliction which was then 
 before him, and the unnatural attempt of Goneril and Regan 
 against their father's life, recollects those passages, and asks, 
 " whether that was the end of the world, that had been fore- 
 told us? " 'Jo which Edgar adds, " or only a representation 
 and resemblance of that horror." 
 
 There is evidently an allusion to the same passages in Scrip- 
 ture in a speech of Cluster's, which be makes in the second 
 scene of the lirst act : 
 
 These late eclipses in the sun, Sec. See p. 4(X). 
 
 If any critics should urge it as an objection to this explana- 
 tion, that the persons of the drama are Pagans, and of course 
 unacquainted with the Scriptures, ihey give Shakspeare credit 
 for more accuracy than I fear he possessed. M. Mason. 
 
 Kent. Is this the promis'd end ? 
 
 Edgar. Or image of that horror ? 
 
 Alh. Fa/I and cease. 
 
 Mr. Monck Mason's interpretation of the exclamatory 
 questions of Kent and Edgar is particularly happy. An 
 objection might be raised by some, indeed, in regard to 
 the word promise which implies a good or benefit to be 
 granted in after-time : but it seems to be used by our 
 poet as merely expressive of prediction, declaration ; so 
 that nothing can justly be urged against it. The answer 
 of Albany, however, to these questions has not been pro- 
 perly explained : I wii!, therefore, endeavour to give 
 the meaning. We must suppose then, that the words of 
 Kent and Edgar are understood by the Duke in precisely 
 the same sense as they are by Mr. M. and that struck with 
 awe and fear he exclaims — " fall and cease ! " which may 
 be thus paraphrased. — " Yes, the work of horror is begun : 
 the [fall] overthrow [and cease] the extinction of all 
 things ! Yes, the destruction of the world is near at 
 hand!" 13. 
 
176 KING LEAR. ACT f} 
 
 Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd ! No, no, no 
 life. 
 
 And my poor fool is hang'd /] This is an expression of 
 tenderness for his dead Cordelia (not his fool, as some have 
 thought) on whose lips he is still intent, and dies away while 
 he is searching for life there. 
 
 I may add that the Fool of Lear was long ago forgotten. 
 Having filled the space allotted him in the arrangement of the 
 play, he appears to have been silently withdrawn in the sixth 
 scene of the third act. — That the thoughts of a father in the 
 bitterest of all moments, while his favorite child lay dead in 
 his arms, should recur to the antic who had formerly diverted 
 him, has somewhat in it that I cannot reconcile to the idea of 
 genuine sorrow and despair. 
 
 Besides this, Cordelia was recently hanged ; but we know 
 not that the Fool had suffered in the same manner, nor can 
 imagine why he should. The party adverse to Lear was little 
 interested in the fate of his jester. The only use of him was 
 to contrast and alleviate the sorrows of his master ; and, that 
 purpose being fully answered, the poet's solicitude about him 
 was at an end. 
 
 The term — poor fool might indeed have misbecome the 
 mouth of a vassal commiserating the untimely end of a prin- 
 cess, but has no impropriety when used by a weak, old, dis- 
 tracted king; in whose mind the distinctions of nature only 
 survive, while he is uttering his last frantic exclamations over 
 a murdered daughter. Steev. 
 
 " ^nd my poor fool is hang'd." I read " pure soot " 
 is hang'd! — pure in the sense of innocent, free from all 
 imputed crime. Soot for sweet, a word of endearment. 
 " And my innocent street, or my sweet innocent is mur- 
 dered ! " The little difference in sound between pure and 
 poor might lead to mistake : while in soot the s was scarcely 
 distinguishable fromy*: and the same may be observed of 
 t in respect of /. This latter word (soot) is used by 
 Chaucer and Spenser. Shakspeare has it likewise in the 
 Tempest — " my soot, my tutor." B. 
 
tlullo* 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Iago. One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 
 A fellow almost damn'd in a. fair wife ; 
 
 In a fair wife.] In the former editions this hath heen printed, a 
 fair wife ; but surely it must from the beginning have been a mis- 
 take, because it appears from a following part of the play, that 
 Cassio was an unmarried man : on the other hand, his beauty is 
 often hinted at, which it is natural enough for rough soldiers to treat 
 with scorn and ridicule. I read therefore: 
 
 " A fellow almost damn'd in a fair phyz." IIanm. 
 
 • a Florentine, 
 
 A fellow almost damn'd in a fair "wife. 
 But it was lago, and not Cassio, who was the Florentine, as ap- 
 pears from act iii. scene i. The passage therefore should be read 
 thus: 
 
 " Florentine's, 
 
 " A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife." 
 These are the words of Othello (which Iago in this relation repeats) 
 and signify ,thut a Florentine was an unfit person for eommanc . >s being 
 always a slave to a fair wife; which was the case of Iago. 'i he Ox- 
 ford Editor, supposing this was said by Iago of Cassio, will have 
 Cassio to be the Florentine ; which, he says, is plain from many 
 passages in the play, rightly understood. But bt cause Cassio was 
 no married man (though 1 wonder it did not appear he was, from 
 some passages rightly tmderstood) he alters ihe line thus : 
 
 " A fellow almost damn'd in a fair phyz." 
 A White-triars' phrase. Warb. 
 
 Shak. I. M 
 
178 OTHELLO. ACT I. 
 
 As Mr, Theobald's note on this passage appears to have been 
 written in concert with Dr. Warburton, it were useless to insert 
 them both. The former, however, concludes his observations thus: 
 
 " Iago, not Cassia, was the Florentine ; Iago noi Cassio, was the 
 married man ; logo's wife attends Desdemona to Cyprus ; Cassio 
 has a mistress there, a common strumpet ; and Iago tclis htm in 
 the fourth act : 
 
 " She gives it out that you shall marry her," 
 which would be absurd, if Cassio had been already married at Venice. 
 Besides, our poet follows the authority of his novel in giving the' 
 villainous ensign a fair wife." Steev. 
 
 This is one of the passages which must for the present be resigned 
 to corruption and obscurity. I have nothing that I can, with any 
 approach to confidence, propose. 1 cannot think it very plain froin- 
 Act III. Sc. t. that Cassio was or was not a Florentine. John. 
 
 I am inclined to believe, that the true reading here is, 
 " A fellow almost damn'd in a fair life ; " 
 and that Shakspcare alludes to the judgment denounced in the 
 gospel against those of whom all wen speak well. 
 
 The character of Cassio is certainly such, as would be very likely 
 to draw upon him all the peril of this denunciation literally under- 
 stood. Well-bred, easy, sociable, good-natured ; with abilities 
 enough to make him agreeable and useful, but not sufficient to 
 excite the envy of his equals, or to alarm the jealousy of his supe- 
 riors. It may be observed too, that Shakspcare has thought it pro- 
 per to make Iago, in several other passages, bear his testimony to 
 the amiable qualities of his rival. In Act v. Sc. I. he speaks thus 
 of him : 
 
 *.* If Cassio do remain, 
 
 " He hath a daily beauty in his life 
 " That makes me ugly." 
 I will only add, that, however hard or farfctch'd this allusion 
 (whether Shakspeare's, or only mine) may seem to be, Archbishop 
 Sheldon had exactly the same conceit, when he made that singular 
 compliment, as the writer calls it, [Biog. Britan. Art. Temple] 
 to a nephew of Sir William Temple, that " he had the curse of the 
 gospel, because all men spoke well of him." Tyrw. 
 
 " In a fair wife." Mr. Tyrwhkt's conjecture is ingenious, 
 and his emendation might be admitted, were it not that to 
 sav of Cassio that he is ' damned in a fair life,' accords not 
 with what Iago, m another place, and speaking to Roderigo, 
 observes of him — " Now, Sir, who stands so eminently in the 
 degree of this fortune as Cassio does ? a knave very voluble : 
 no farther conscionable, than in putting on the mere form of 
 civil and humane feeling, For the better compassing of his salt 
 and most hidden Joose, affection ! A slippery and subtle knave : 
 a devilish knave! A pestileut complete knave!" — 1 am of 
 opiniun, iheielore, that " life " cannot be right, and that for 
 
SCENE T. OTHELLO. 179 
 
 " wife " we should read zcise, i. e. manner. The construction 
 is this : 
 
 " A fellow, in a fair wise, almost damned." 
 The expression may be called elliptical. Iago's meaning, 
 however, is — " A fellow of whom it may he fairly said, or 
 to use a fair manner of speaking, that he is almost damned " 
 (a worthless fellow) — and this, I must repeat, agrees with 
 what is reported by him of Cassio in other places. There can 
 be no doubt but that Cassio is the Florentine, and unmarried. 
 B. 
 
 Iago. Do ; with like timorous accent, and dire yell, 
 As when, by night and negligence, the lire 
 Is spy'd in populous cities. 
 
 As uhen, by night, and negligence, the fire 
 Is spy'd in populous cities.] 
 This is not sense, take it which way you will. If night and negli' 
 gence relate to spied, it is absurd to say, the fire was spied by negli- 
 gence. If night and 'negligence refer only to the time and occasion, 
 it should then be night and through negligence. Otherwise the 
 particle by would be made to signify time applied to one word, and 
 cause applied to the other. We should read, therefore, Is spred, by 
 which all these faults are avoided. WaRB. 
 
 " As when by night and negligence, the fire." The.expression 
 " night and negligence " is faulty, though it certainly may be un- 
 derstood. A very slight change will give an easier reading, and 
 a better sense : 
 
 " As when the fire, in negligence, is spied 
 
 " By night, in populous cities." 
 u The fire occasioned by or through negligence." B. 
 
 Rod. Your fair daughter, 
 
 At this odd even and dull watch o' the night. 
 
 — this -odd esen — ] The even of night is ?nidnight, the time when 
 nigh* is divided into even parts. John. 
 
 Odd is li'ie ambiguously used, as it signifies strange, uncouth, or 
 unwanted ; and as it is opposed to even. 
 
 'flu- , t explained, is very harsh ; and the poet 
 
 might have written — At ihis odd steven. Steven is an ancient word 
 signifying time. St>* in the old ballad of Rubin Hood and Guy of 
 GisOurnc. 
 
 " We may chance to meet with Robin Hood 
 "Ueiv.,1 some unscit .vrrroj." SteJ'.v. 
 
 Much pains have been taken by some of the editors, especially by 
 Dr. Warburton, to introduce into the text a parcel of obsolete words 
 
180 OTHELLO. ACT I. 
 
 which Shakspeare never dreamed of: for the obscurity of his style 
 does not arise from the frequent use of antiquated terms, but from his 
 peculiar manner of applying and combining the words which be found 
 in common use in his day : and when he deviates from the received 
 language of the times, it is rather by coining some harsh and high- 
 sounding words of his own, than by looking back for those which had 
 fallen into disuse. If therefore it be necessary to amend this passage, 
 1 should choose to read " at this (hell season," rather than this dull 
 steven as an expression that would more naturally occur either to 
 Shakspeare or to Roderigo. Mokck Mason. 
 
 * This odd even.' Mr. Steevens observes, that, ' this odd 
 even,' in whatever way interpreted, is harsh. The fact is,-that 
 there is no possibility of explaining it at all. It is nonsense : I 
 read, 
 
 ' Your fair daughter, 
 
 Even at this odd, and dull watch of the night/ 
 
 ' Odd' has here the sense of unlucky, baleful, pernicious 
 
 Qualities which by the Greeks and Romans were particularly 
 attributed to night : a goddess, indeed, who favored the opera- 
 tions not only of the magicians of old, but of the modern illu- 
 mineeSj whose incantations have ever been hidden from the 
 vulgar eye. The Eleusinia Sacra had not to boast of greater 
 secrecy, than might the Cabbala Germanica, of which Cabbala, 
 however, we no longer hear. Mr. S. would introduce steven, 
 but the word is nowhere used for time. As to Mr. M. M- 
 he shows himself little acquainted with Shakspeare. B. 
 
 Oth. And my demerits 
 
 May speak, unbon netted, to as proud a fortune 
 As this that I have reach'd. 
 
 speak, unbonnetted — ] Thus all the copies read. It should be 
 ttnbonncting, i.e. without putting off the bonnet. Pope. 
 
 * and my demerits 
 
 May speak unbonnetted to as proud a fortune 
 As this that 1 have reach'd. — 
 Thus all the copies read this passage. Rut, to speak unbonnetted 
 is to speak with the cap off, which is directly opposite to the poet's 
 meaning. Othello means to say, that his birth and services set him 
 upon such a rank, that he may speak to a senator of Venice with his 
 hat on ; i. e. without shewing any marks of deference or inequality. 
 I therefore am inclined to think Shakspeare wrote : 
 
 " May speak, and bonnetted," &c. Theob. 
 I do not see the propriety of Mr. Pope's emendation, though adopt- 
 ed by Dr. Warburton. Unbonnetting may as— well be, not putting 
 on, as not putting off, the bonnet. Hanmer reads e'en bonnetted, 
 John, 
 
SCENE III. OTHELLO. 181 
 
 Bonneter (says Cotgrave) is to put of one's cap. So, in CorioJanus : 
 u Those who are supple and courteous to the people, bonneted without 
 any farthcr'decd to heave them at all into their estimation." Ifnbon- 
 m'tcd may therefore signify, without taking the cap off. We might, 
 I think, venture to read imbonneted. It is common with Shakspeare 
 to make or use words compounded in the snme manner. Such are 
 impawn, bnpaint, impale, and immask. Of all the readings hitherto 
 proposed, that of Theobald is, I think, the best. Steev. 
 
 ' And my demerits 
 
 May speak, imbonneted, to as proud a fortune.' 
 
 The Editors have puzzled themselves strangely. ' Unbonnet- 
 ed' signifies, in this place, neither the putting on nor the nutting 
 o/Tof the bonnet. The meaning is " not being honored : not 
 having the usual mark of honor bestowed on me." We must 
 read the passage as follows, 
 
 1 — And my demerits, 
 Unbonneted, may speak, and to as proud a fortune.' 
 
 " And my merits, unbonneted though they are, though, 
 not distinguished by a General's hat, may Aet speak, &c." 
 
 This hat or cap, and which in Venice is called Bonnet de 
 Genera/, is worn by no other than the head of the army and the 
 head of the state. To the first it appertains by right, and to the 
 latter by courtesy. B. 
 
 Bra. For if such actions may have passage free, 
 Bond-slaves, and pagans, shall our statesmen be. 
 
 Bond slaves, and pagans, — ] Mr. Theobald alters pagans to pa- 
 geants for this reason, "That pagans are as strict and moral all the 
 world over, as ;he most regular Christians, in the preservation of pri- 
 vate property." But what then ? The speaker had not this high 
 opinion of pagan morality, as is plain from hence, that this impor- 
 tant discovery, so much to the honor of paganism, was first made by 
 our editor. Ware, 
 
 ' Bond slaves and pagans.' Why ' Pagans' should be brought 
 in here, I do not well see. The poet has probably written pay- 
 sans, i. e. dozens, boors : The word seems to follow Bond- 
 slaves more naturally than that in the text. B. 
 
 1 Sen. Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, 
 To wake, and wage, a danger profitless. 
 
 To wake and wage, a danger profitless. To wage here, as in many 
 other places in Shakspeare, signifies to fight, tocombnt. 
 Thus, in King Lear : 
 
 " To wage against the enmity of the air." 
 
182 OTHELLO. ACT I. 
 
 It took its rise from the more common expression, to wage war. 
 Steev. 
 
 This line, I think, should he pointed thus : 
 
 " To wake, and wage a danger profitless." 
 
 To u wage war" is to engage in tear. To ft wage danger" 
 will therefore signify to engage in a hazardous exploit. JB. 
 
 Oth. By your gracious patience, 
 
 I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 
 Of my whole course of love. 
 
 —unvarnished — ] The second quarto reads — unravaged — Steev. 
 
 ' Unvarnished.' ' Unravaged' may be the right word, only 
 that it is wrong spelled. It appears to be the French ravaudge 
 anglicised, and which means to eke out, to add to. Othello 
 would insinuate that in telling his story he will be guided entirely 
 by truth : that nothing shall be added, in order to influence the 
 Senate in his favor : facts and facts only shall speak for him. 
 This is much more forcible than ( unvarnished' which can only 
 signify plain, unornamented. B. 
 
 Bra. But words are words ; I never yet did hear, 
 That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear. 
 
 But words are words ; I never yet did hear, 
 That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.] 
 The duke had by sage sentences been exhorting Brabantio to pa- 
 tience, and to forget the grief of his daughter's stolen marriage, to 
 which Brabantio is made very pertinently to reply to this effect : 
 " My lord, I apprehend very well the wisdom of your advice ; but 
 though you would comfort me, words are but words: and the heart, 
 already bruis'd, was never piere'd, or wounded, through the ear." It 
 is obvious that the text must be restored thus: 
 
 That the bruis'd heart was pieced through the ear. 
 i. e. that the wounds of sorrow were ever cured, or a man made heart- 
 whole merely by the words of consolation. Warb. 
 
 " Pierced" should without the smallest question be berced. 
 Beret is a figurative expression, and used very frequently by the 
 French. " 11 ma beret de vaines esperances" — he soothed me 
 with vain hopes. The sense of our author's lines is this— I did 
 never hear that the afflicted heart could be soothed (" berced,") 
 or lulled into forgetfulness by the help of words. B. 
 
 Oth. I do agnize 
 
 A natural and prompt alacrity, 
 
-SCENE HI. OTHELLO. 185 
 
 I find it hardness ; and do undertake 
 This present war against the Ottomites. 
 
 — / do agnize] i. c. acknowledge, confess, avow. So, in the old 
 play of Carnbi/sis : 
 
 " The tenor of your princely will, from you tor t,o agnize." 1 
 In this instance, however, it signifies to know; as likewise in the 
 following, from the same piece : 
 
 " Why so? I pray you let me agnize." Steev. 
 ' I do agnize 
 A natural and prompt alacrity, 
 I find if hardness ;' 
 When Othello acknowledges that he feels a natural and 
 prompt a/arriti/ for the war about to be engaged in, will it 
 therefore follow that he finds it hardness : such consequence is 
 surely not to be admitted. I would therefore read, ' m find it 
 hardness-:' Ni (fr.) nor. Chaucer and Spenser write n& for 
 nor, neither, and which appears to be the Latin ne. B. 
 
 Oth. I therefore beg it not, 
 
 To please the palate of my appetite : 
 Nor to comply with heat, (the young effects, 
 In me defunct) and proper satisfaction ; 
 But to be free and bounteous to her mind. 
 
 Nor to comply -with heat (the young affects, 
 
 In me defunct) and proper satisfaction ;] 
 As this has been hitherto printed and stopped, it seems to me a 
 period of as stubborn nonsense, as the editors have obtruded upon 
 poor Shakspeare throughout his works. What a preposterous crea- 
 ture is this Othello made, to fall in love with and marry a fine young 
 lady, when appetite and heat, and proper satisfaction, arc dead and 
 defunct in him ! (For, defunct signifies nothing else, that 1 know of, 
 either" primitively or metaphorically;) but if we may take Othello's 
 own word in the affair, he was not reduced to this fatal state. 
 
 or, for 1 am declined 
 
 Into the vale of years : yet t/iat's not much. 
 Again, Why should our poet say, (for so he says as the passage has 
 been pointed) that the young affect heat ? Youth, certainly, has it, 
 and has no occasion or prete nee of affect ing it. And, again, after 
 defunct, would he add so absurd a Collateral epithet as proper? But 
 affects was not designed there as a verb, and defunct was not designed 
 here at all. I have by reading distinct for defunct, rescued the poet's 
 text from absurdity ; and this I take to be the tenor of what he would 
 say ; " I do not beg her company with me, merely to please myself: 
 nor to indulge the heat and affects (i. e. affections) of a new-married 
 
184 OTHELLO. ACT I. 
 
 man, in my own distinct and proper satisfaction ; but to comply 
 with her in hor request, and desire of accompanying me." Affects 
 for affections, our author in several other passages uses. Tiieob. 
 Nor to comply tilth /teat, the young affects 
 In wy defunct and proper satisfaction. 
 i. e. with that heat and new affections which the indulgence of my 
 appetite has raised and created. '1 his is the meaning of defunct, 
 which has made all the difficulty of the passage. Waiib. 
 
 I do not think that Mr. Theobald's emendation clears the text 
 .from embarrassment, though it is with a little imaginary improve- 
 ment received by Hanmcr, who reads thus : 
 
 Nor to comply nith heat, affects the young 
 /// my distinct and proper satisfaction. 
 Dr. Warburton's explanation is not more satisfactory: what made 
 the difficulty will continue to make it. I read, 
 
 " 1 beg it nnt, 
 
 " To please the palate of my appetite, 
 " Nor to comply with heat (the young affects 
 " In me defunct) and proper satisfaction ; 
 " But to be free and bounteous to her mind." 
 Effects stands here, not for love, but for passions, for that by which 
 any thing is affected. " I ask it not," says be, " t<> please appetite, 
 or satisfy loose desires," the passions of youth which I have now out- 
 lived, or " for any particular gratification of myself, hut merely 
 that I may indulge the wishes of my wife." 
 
 Mr. Upton had, before me, changed my to me ; but he has printed 
 young effects, not seeming to know that affects could be a noun. J. 
 I am persuaded that the word defunct must be af all events ejected. 
 Othello talks here of his appetite, and it is very plain that Desde- 
 mona to her death was fond of him after wedlock, and that he loved 
 her. How then could his conjugal desires be dead or defunct ? or how 
 could they be defunct or discharged and performed when the marriage 
 was not consummated ? Tollet. 
 
 Here are very many notes on these seemingly difficult lines, 
 but without discovering the poet's meaning. A very slight 
 change will give sufficient clearness to the passage, and con- 
 sistency to Othello's speech. I read : 
 
 " (The young afftcts, 
 " In me adjunct,)" &c. 
 •The meaning will therefore be : "I beg it not to comply with 
 heat, nor yet in consideration. of the young affections" (alluding 
 to his recent marriage,) u which may very naturally be supposed 
 to be adjunct in this my request ;" but " defunct " cannot possi- 
 bly be right. The poet's word was, perhaps, by the transcri- 
 ber written edjunct. The j when turned at the press would 
 make f ; this, with the e and d misplaced, will create the mis- 
 take. B. 
 
•SCENE III. OTHELLO. 185 
 
 Oth. No, when light-wing'd toys 
 
 Of featherM Cupid, seel with wanton dulness 
 My speculative and active instruments, 
 That my disports corrupt and taint my business, 
 Let housewives make a skillet of rny helm. 
 
 When light-wing d toys 
 
 Of Jcdther'd Cupid, seel wit} wanton dulness 
 My speculative and pffie'd instrument — ] Tims the folio. 
 The quarto reads : 
 
 " When light-wing'd toys 
 
 " And feathcr'd Cupid fails with wanton dulness 
 " My speculative and active instruments — * 
 JM1 these words (in either copy,) mean no more than this: " When 
 The pleasures and idle toys of love make me unfit either for seeing 
 the duties of my office, or for the ready performance o( them,' ccc.S. 
 " No, when light-wing'd toys * * * 
 " That my disports corrupt and taint by business," 8cc. 
 The latter line, as it now stands, can only mean : " disports, 
 which become corrupt by attending to business." But this i-« 
 not the sense required : nay, it is highly ridiculous. We must 
 read : " No when, &c. 
 
 That business, by my disports, corrupt and taint." i. e. u If 
 it be found that 1 give myself up to pleasures, and that the busi- 
 ness entrusted to me shall be ruined by neglect, then let hou:>e- 
 wives," &.c. 13. 
 
 Duke. If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 
 Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 
 
 If virtue no delighted beauty lack.] This is a senseless epithet. 
 "We should read Delighted beauty, i.e. white and fair. Ware. 
 
 There is no such word as — belighted. The plain meaning, I be- 
 lieve, is, it" virtue comprehends every thing in itself, then your vir- 
 tuous son-in-law of course is beautiful : he has that beauty which 
 delights every one. Delighted, for delighting ; Shakspeare often 
 uses the active" and passive participles indiscriminately. Of this 
 practice I have already given many instances. Stekv. 
 
 " If virtue,* &c. 1 think belighted, (though not to be inter- 
 preted by white and Jair,) the right word : that no should be 
 so, and that the line should be printed thus : 
 
 "If virtue, so belighted, beauty lack," &c. 
 
 The meaning is : " If a man of so much virtue, or of so en- 
 lightened a mind, lack beauty in the world's eye, he lacks it not 
 in mine : I think him more fair than black." The reviser of 
 Shakspeare, and who has the honor of his author at heart, will 
 
1S6 OTHELLO. ACT II. 
 
 not be told that there is no such word as betighted : If there is 
 no such word, there .should be such a one ; and with whom can 
 it better originate than with our author ? B. 
 
 Iago. The food that to him now is as luscious as 
 locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. 
 
 As luscious as locusts. Whether you understand by this the 
 insect or the fruit, it cannot be given as an instance of a delicious 
 morsel, notwithstanding the exaggerations of lying travellers. The 
 true reading is lohocks, a very pleasant confection introduced into 
 medicine by the Arabian physicians ; and so very fitly opposed both 
 to the bitterness and use of colon, uintida. Ware. 
 
 " As luscious as locusts." It is evident from the word lus- 
 cious, that something sweet is intended to be spoken of. Lo- 
 hocks, or as Warburton should have written it, laches (i. e. lo- 
 zenges or cake^ of preserved fruit) is certainly the right read- 
 ing. It is not true of the locust-tree, that it contains a sweet 
 and luscious juice. B. 
 
 2 Gent. The w ind-shak'd surge, with high and mons- 
 trous main, 
 Seems to cast water on the burning bear, 
 And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole : 
 I never did like molestation view 
 On the enchafed flood. 
 
 And quench t he guards of the ever-fixed pole ;] Alluding to the 
 star Arctophylax. Jojin. 
 
 The elder quarto reads — ever Jir'd pole. Steev. 
 
 " And quench the guards," &c. This should rather be said 
 to allude to the northern constellation, or cluster of stars 
 {Bootes) : otherwise it would be quench the guard. B. 
 
 Cos. He hath atehiev'd a maid 
 That paragons description, and wild fame ; 
 One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, 
 And, in the essential vesture of creation, 
 Does bear all excellency. 
 
 And in the essential vesture of creation, 
 
 Does bear all excellency. — ] 
 It is plain that something very hyperbolical was here intended. But 
 what is there as it stands ? Why this, that in the essence of creation 
 she bore all excellency. The expression is intolerable, and could 
 
SCENE I. OTHELLO. 187 
 
 never come from one who so well understood the force of words as 
 our poet. The essentiul vesture is the same as essential form. So 
 that the expression is nonsense. For the vesture of creation signifies 
 the forms in which created beings are cast. And essence relates 
 not to the form, but to the matter. Shakspeare certainly wrote : 
 
 *' And in terrestrial vesture of creation." 
 And in this lay the wonder, that all created excellence should be 
 contained within an earthly mortal form. Ware. 
 
 I do not think the present reading inexplicable. The author 
 seems to use essential, for existent, real, She excels the praises of 
 invention, savs he, and in real qualities, with which creation has 
 invested her, bears all excellency. John. 
 
 I do not find any difficulty in this passage. The poet would 
 insinuate that woman is the most finished, the most perfect 
 work of heaven ; and that Desdemona excels her sex. A very 
 common thought, but somewhat quaintly expressed. The same 
 sentiment occurs in a subsequent scene of this play : 
 
 " Thou cunning's t pattern of excelling nature." B. 
 Does bear all excellency.'] Such is the reading of the quartos ; 
 for which the folio has this : 
 
 And in the essential vesture of creation 
 Do's tyre the ingeniucr. 
 Which I explain thus, 
 
 Does tire the ingenious verse. 
 This is the best reading, and that which the author substituted in 
 his revisal. John. 
 
 " Does bear all excellency." I incline to the reading of the 
 folio, with this difference, that 1 think tyre should be trye. 
 Ingenieur is a French word, and here signifies an artist, or 
 more properly a poet. The meaning of the passage is : " Such 
 are her excellent qualities, that the abilities of the Poet are put 
 to the test by them : in describing her, his talent is thoroughly 
 tried." It may perhaps be urged that this thought is already 
 expressed by " quirks of blazoning pens," and that by explain- 
 ing it as I would do, the whole becomes a pleonasm. It may 
 be so, but in my opinion the pleonasm is frequently a beauty in 
 poetry. Still, however, if this be objected against, Ingenieur 
 may very well stand for painter, and then the objection will be 
 done away. B. 
 
 Iago. If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash 
 For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 
 111 have our Michael Cassio on the hip. 
 
 Which thing to do, 
 
 If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace 
 
 For this quick hunting, stand the putting on. 
 
188 OTHELLO. ACT IT. 
 
 A trifling, insignificant fellow may, fn some respects, very well be 
 called trash ; but the metaphor is not preserved. For what agree- 
 ment is there betwixt troth, and quick hunting, and standing the 
 putting on? The allusion to the thace, Shakspeare seems to be fond 
 of applying to Roderigo, who says of himself towards the conclu- 
 sion of this act : 
 
 I follow here in the chace, not like a hound that hunts, but one 
 that fills up the cry. 
 
 I suppose therefore that the poet wrote, 
 
 If this poor brach of Venice, 
 
 which is a low species of hounds of the chacc, and' a term generally 
 used in contempt : and this completes and perfects the metaphorical 
 allusion, and makes it much more satirical. Vlitius, in his notes 
 on G rati us, says, " Racha Saxonibus cuncm significabat, undt Scoti 
 hodie Rache pro cane feminq habent, quod Anglis est Brachc. Nos 
 vero (he speaks of the Hollanders) Brach von quemvis canem sed 
 sagace)n'voca?nus. So the French, Braque, espece de chic 
 Menage Etimol." Wars. 
 
 " Whom I do trace 
 
 '• For his quick hunting."] Just the contrary. He did not 
 trace him, he put him on, as he says immediately after. The old 
 quarto leads to the true reading : 
 
 " Whofk I do crush- 
 
 " For his quick hunting. ■" 
 
 Plainly corrupted from cherish. Warb. 
 
 If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace 
 For his quick hunting, stand the puffing on.] Dr. War- 
 burton, with his usual happy sagacity, turned the old reading trash 
 into brach. But it seems to me, that trash belongs to another 
 part of the line, and that we should read trash for trace. The 
 old quartos (in the same part of the line) read crush, signifying 
 indeed the same as (rash, but plainly corrupted from it. To trash 
 a hound is a term of hunting still used in the North, and perhaps 
 not uncommon in other parts of England. It is, to correct, to rate. 
 Crush was never the technical expression on this occasion ; and only 
 found a place here as a more familiar word with the printers. The 
 sense is, " If this hound Roderigo, whom I rate for quick hunting, 
 for over-running the scent, will but stand the putting on, will but 
 have patience to be fairly and properly put upon the scent," &c. 
 Wartow. 
 
 Vll have our Michael Cassio on the hip. A phrase from the art 
 of wrestling. John. 
 
 " If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash, 
 " For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 
 " I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip." 
 The word hunting has misled the editors : they are on a 
 wrong scent. The expression, as I conceive, is here employed 
 in a general, and not a particular sense. " His quick hunting '* 
 is simply — " his eager pursuit." — "Trash " is feeble, and not suffi- 
 ciently contemptuous ; and " brach " — not only as it means a 
 
SCENE I. OTHELLO. 189 
 
 bitch-hound, but as there is certainly no allusion to the chace 
 —is wrong. The true reading, I believe, will be racke (from 
 the Saxon or rather the Hebrew raka : i.e. shallow, empty; 
 and hence, by the way, the derivation of the English rake : 
 which term [rake] however, like to that of trash, is deficient in 
 marking a truly despicable character.) With respect to ruche, 
 which I have proposed, it is now used by the French, and pro- 
 nounced rashe, which it may be observed comes near in sound 
 to trash. The meaning of this expression, with the latter peo- 
 ple, and which is forcible enough here, is scab, i.e. a paltry, 
 scurvy fellow : and this is exactly what we arc to understand of 
 Rotlei igo. The " crush " of the quarto, should be retained : 
 for Wai burton is much mistaken in supposing that Iago means 
 to cherish this paltry fellow. On the contrary he would un- 
 doubtedly wish to crush or destroy him, as well by reason of 
 the love which himself acknowledges, in this soliloquy, to bear 
 towards the lady, as on account of the money he has from time 
 to time " fobbed " him of, under pretence of forwarding his 
 designs on the commander's wife. ** Stand the putting on," is 
 no I, as the commentators seem to imagine, following up the 
 hunt, but stand to the quarrel, to the skirmish with Cassio and 
 his party, and which he (lago) would put him on, and this for 
 divers reasons, and to answer his own particular [imposes. I 
 read : 
 
 "If this poor rache of Venice, — whom I'd crush 
 " For his quick hunting, — stand the putting on, 
 " I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip." 
 What he means by having " Cassio on the hip," — is this : 
 Othello would, probably, be so much angered at the brawl in 
 which his Lieutenant was engaged, as to be induced to cashier, 
 or at any rate to suspend him for no little time from the service. 
 This effected, the jealousy of his noble master is next to be awa- 
 kened, by urging Desdemona to intercede with him for Cassio : 
 by which means he hopes to bring about not only the destruction 
 of that officer, but finally of the Moor. B. 
 
 , Iago. Tis here, but yet confus'd ; 
 Knavery's plain face is never seen, 'till us'd. 
 
 Knavery's plain face is never seen.] An honest man acts upon a 
 plan, and forecasts his designs; but a knave depends upon temporary 
 and local opportunities, and never knows his own purpose, but at 
 the time of execution. John. 
 
 ** Knavery's plain face is never seen. " Such is the re- 
 mark of the celebrated moralist, Johnson, touching the honest 
 and dishonest man. 1 rather think, however, that generally 
 
190 OTHELLO. ACT II. 
 
 speaking, the very reverse of this is observable in the human 
 character : particularly in respect of the knave. But -still 
 it has nothing to do with the meaning of the poet's line, which 
 is : " Knavery remains concealed until it can find a proper time 
 in which to act." Iago very faithfully describes himself. B. 
 
 la go. What an eye she has ! methinks, it sounds a 
 
 parley of provocation. 
 
 " What an eye she has ! methinks it sounds a parley of pro- 
 vocation." The passage may be better read thus : " What an 
 eye of provocation she has ! methinks it sounds a parley." 
 " Sounds," i. e. culls to. B. 
 
 Oth. What's the matter, 
 That you unlace your reputation thus, 
 And spend your rich opinion, for the name 
 Of a night brawler ? 
 
 That you unlace.] Slacken, or loosen. Put in danger of drop- 
 ping; or perhaps strip pf its ornaments. John. x 
 
 1 would read : " Unbrace your reputation." As better from 
 the lips of a soldier. B. 
 
 Oth. Now, by heaven, 
 My blood begins my safer guides to rule ; 
 And passion, having my best judgment collied, 
 Assays to lead the way. 
 
 And passion hating my best judgment collied.] Thus the folio 
 reads, and 1 believe rightly. Othello means, that passion has dis- 
 colored his judgment. The word is used in The Midsu7n?ner 
 Night's Dream : 
 
 " Like lightning in the collied night." Steev. 
 
 " And passion having my best judgment collied, 
 " Assays to lead the way." 
 Othello might certainly talk of his judgment being blackened: 
 but the word " assays" will point to another and more forcible 
 expression. For <f colliod " 1 would therefore read coiled : 
 " And passion having my best judgment coiled, 
 " Assays." 
 i. e. " Passion having wound about, encircled, and with a view to 
 fetter my judgment, strives," &c. Thus we have passion and 
 judgment struggling or contending as it were for the mastery j 
 which sense is wholly lost in the term collied. B. 
 
ACT III. SC. III. OTHELLO. 191 
 
 Iago. I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, — 
 That she repeals him for her body's lust ; 
 And, by how much she strives to do him good, 
 She shall undo her credit with the Moor. 
 
 That she repeals him] That is, recals him. John. 
 
 " That she repeals him." The true meaning of to repeal, is 
 to abrogate, to annul. The proper word here will be rappels 
 (rappeller fr.) to recal. B. 
 
 Iago. Men should be what they seem ; 
 Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none ! 
 
 Or, those that he not, 'would they might seem nunc !] There is no 
 sense in this reading. I suppose Shakspeare wrote, 
 
 " Would they might seem knaves." \Y.\rb. 
 
 " Or those that be not, 'would they might seem none." 
 The meaning is : " When men, are not what they seem, when 
 they have not the qualities of men ; would they did not appear 
 in human shape." B. 
 
 Iago. I do beseech you, 
 Though I — perchance, am vicious in my guess, 
 (As, I confess, it is my nature's plague 
 To spy into abuses ; and, oft, my jealousy 
 Shapes faults that are not.) 
 
 Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess.] Not to mention 
 that, in this reading, the sentence is abrupt and broken, it is like- 
 wise highly absurd. I beseech you give yourself no uneasiness 
 from my unsure observance, though I am vicious in my guess. For 
 his being an ill guesser was a reason why Othello should not be un- 
 easy : in propriety, therefore, it should either have been, though I 
 a?n not vicious, or because I am vicious. It appears then we should 
 read : 
 
 " I do beseech you, 
 
 " Think, I, perchance, am vicious in my guess." 
 Which makes the sense pertinent and perfect. Waub. 
 " Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess." 
 I am of opinion that " though " should be thought. The 
 broken sentences of Iago we may well suppose to be studied. 
 I would regulate as follows : 
 
 " I thought — Beseech you — 
 " I do — Perchance I am vicious in my guess," &c. 
 Othello's suspicion being awakened by Iago, he urges him to 
 
192 OTHELLO. -ACT 111. 
 
 make known his thought. lago, as if about to yield to his im- 
 portunity, says : " I thought " — but stops, in seeming tender- 
 ness for the parties, with — " Beseech you," [inquire no farther.} 
 He then appears to be again about to impart some secret mat- 
 ter to the Moor, " I do" [think.] But again, and like an able 
 general who retreats, the better to draw the enemy into a snare, 
 he goes back to his former ground : " perchance i am vicious 
 in my guess." This ambiguousness in the language of the 
 Ensign, as it more particularly marks his character, is better 
 than the reading proposed by Dr. W. That of the text, as he 
 has observed, is highly absurd. B. 
 
 lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy ; 
 It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock 
 The meat it feeds on. 
 
 Which doth mock 
 
 The meat it feeds on.] i. e. loaths that which nourishes ami 
 sustains it. This being a miserable state, lago bids him beware of 
 it. The Oxford Editor reads: 
 
 " which doth make 
 
 " The meat it feeds on." 
 Implying that its suspicions are unreal and groundless, which is the 
 very contrary to what he would here make his general think, as ap- 
 pears from what follows: 
 
 " That cuckold lives in bliss," &c. 
 In a word, the. villain is for fixing him jealous: and therefore bids 
 him beware of jealousy, not that it was an unreasonable, but a mise- 
 rable state ; and this plunges him into it, as we see by his reply, 
 which is only 
 
 " O misery ! " Wars. 
 
 I have received Hanmer's emendation ; because to mock, does not 
 signify to loath ; and because, when lago bids Othello beware of 
 jealovsy, the green-eyed monster, it is natural to tell why he should 
 beware, and for caution he gives him two reasons, that jealousy often 
 creates its own cause, and that, when the causes are real, jealousy is 
 misery. John. 
 
 In this place, and some others, to mock seems the same with to 
 mammock. Farm. 
 
 If Shakspeare had written — a green-ey'd monster, we might have 
 supposed him to refer to some creature existing only in his particu- 
 lar imagination ; but the green-ey'd monster seems to have reference 
 to an object as familiar to his readers as to himself. 
 
 It is known that the tyger kind have green-eyes, and always play 
 with the victim to their hunger, before they devour it. So, in our 
 Author's Tarquin and Lucrece : 
 
 " Like foul night-waking cat he doth but dally, 
 
 " While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse pantetb." 
 
SCENE III. OTHELLO. 193 
 
 Thus, a jealous husband, who discovers no certain cause why he 
 may be di orced, continues to sport with the woman whom he sus- 
 pects, and, on more certain evidence, determines to punish. There 
 is no beast that can be literally said to make its own food, and there- 
 fore I am unwilling to receive the emendation of Hanmer, especially 
 as I flatter myself' that a 'glimpse of meaning may be produced from 
 the ancient reading. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that he afterwards characterizes it as 
 
 a monster, 
 
 Begot upon itself, born on itself. 
 but yet — " What damned minutes counts lie o'er," <\:c. is the best 
 illustration of my attempt to explain the passage. To produce 
 Haumer's meaning, a change in the text is necessary. I am counsel 
 for the old reading. Sti.lv. 
 
 When Mr. Steevens compares the jealous man, who continues to 
 sport with the woman he suspects, and is determined to destroy, to 
 the tiger who plays with the victim of his hunger, he forgets that the 
 meat on which jealousy is supposed to feed, is not the woman who is 
 the object of it, but the several circumstances of suspicion which 
 jealousy itself creates, and which cause and nourish it. So .Emilia, 
 at the end of the third act, in answer to Desdemona, who speak- 
 ing of Othello's jealousy, says: 
 
 " Alas the day ! I never gave him cause" 
 Replies : 
 
 " Hut jealous fools will not be answered so, 
 " They are not jealous ever for the cause, 
 " But jealous, for they are jealous — 'tis a monster, 
 " Begot upon itself, bom on itself." 
 This passage, is a strong confirmation of llanmcr's reading. Mas. 
 " It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 
 " The meat it feeds on." 
 Hanmer's emendation, as it is called, must not be received, 
 and for the reasons given by Warburton, which are every way 
 valid, and therefore cannot be got over : not that any particular 
 objection can be raised against " makes the meat it feeds on," 
 when spoken of jealousy simply. It is from the circumstances 
 in which Othello stands, as well as from the general reasoning 
 of Iago, that the difficulty has been started. With respect to 
 the present reading, " mock," I do not see that it is better war- 
 ranted : that is, as properly marking or being peculiar to the 
 passion in question. In place of it, therefore, I substitute 
 " muck," i.e. bedaub or make foul : and this it the true cha- 
 racter of jealousy ; it defiles, maculates, or casts a stain on that 
 without which it cannot live : for it should be remembered that 
 there cannot be jealousy, but where there is the most violent, 
 the most extravagant love. For " the green-eyed monster " I 
 read, the agreuried, i. e. sportive, with a mixture of pleasure or 
 
 Shak. I. N 
 
1^4 OTHELLO. ACT III. 
 
 satisfaction in what it is engaged in. In which sense the word 
 is used by our earlier writers. The lines, thus altered, will be 
 highly" descriptive of jealousy : — " plays like the tyger, or other 
 ferine animals, with his prey : and that mucks or makes unclean, 
 the meat it feeds on : for, as I have already hinted, the quality 
 of this passiuti is such, that it is actually delighted with the very 
 object it defiles or destroys. It is seen that the mistake green- 
 eyed would not be difficult, (Agrein-i-ed) with a transcriber 
 or reader for the press. B. 
 
 logo. Foh ! one may smell, in such, a will most 
 rank, 
 Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. 
 
 A will most rank.] Will is for wilfulness. It is so used by As- 
 cham. A rank will is self-will, overgrown, and exuberant. John. 
 " Will," in this place, is rather inclination, desires. B. 
 
 jEmil. If it be not for some purpose of import, 
 Give it me again : Poor lady ! she'll run mad, 
 When she shall lack it. 
 
 Iago. Be not acknown on't ; I have use for it. 
 Go, leave me. [Ejrit TEm'il. 
 
 I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, 
 And let him find it : Trifles, light as air, 
 Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
 As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. 
 The Moor already changes with my poison : — . 
 Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 
 Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ; 
 But, with a little act upon the blood, 
 Burn like the mines of sulphur. — I did say so : — 
 
 I did say so.] As this passage is supposed to be obscure, I shall 
 attempt an explanation of it. 
 
 Iago first ruminates on the qualities of the passion which he is 
 laboring to excite ; and then proceeds to comment on its effects, 
 " Jealousy," says he, " with the smallest operation on the blood, 
 flames out with all the violence of sulphur," &c. 
 
 " 1 did say so ; 
 
 " Look where he comes ! — 
 
SCENE III. OTHELLO. 195 
 
 i.e. I knew that the least touch of such a passion would not permit 
 the Moor to v enjoy a moment of repose : — I have just said that jea- 
 lousy is a restless com motion of the mind ; and look where Otheilo 
 approaches, to confirm the propriety and justice of my observation. 
 Steev. 
 
 ' I did say so.' These words appear to be misplaced, as is 
 common, indeed, with many passages in Shakspeare. They 
 stand very awkwardly at present, and Mr. Steevens's explanation 
 is strained — by no means happy. If we set them at the begin- 
 ning of the speech, and as in answer to iEmilia, all is pertinent 
 and clear. 
 
 Mm. ' If it be not for some purpose of import, 
 
 Give it me again. Poor lady ! she'll run mad, 
 
 When she shall lack it. 
 
 logo. Be not acknown on't, 
 
 I have use for it : I did say so. Go, leave me.' B. 
 
 Iago. Witness, you ever-burning lights above ' 
 You elements that clip us round about ! 
 Witness, that here Iago doth give up 
 The execution of his wit, hands, heart, 
 To wrong'd Othello's service ! let him command, 
 And to obey shall be in me remorse, 
 What bloody work soever. 
 
 • let him command, 
 
 And to obey, shall be in me remorse, 
 What bloody business ever. 
 Thus all the old copies, to manifest depravation of the poet's'sense. 
 Mr. Pope has attempted an emendation, but with his old luck and 
 dexterity. 
 
 Not to obey, shall be in ?ne remorse, &c. 
 I read, with the change only of a single letter: 
 
 Nor, to obey, shall be in me remorse, &c. 
 i. e. Let your commands be ever so bloody, remorse and compassion 
 shall not restrain me from obeying them. Theob. 
 Let him command, 
 And to obey, shall be in me remorse, 
 What bloody business ever. 
 Thus the old copies read, but evidently wrong. Some editions 
 read, Not to obey, on which the editor Mr. Theobald takes occasion 
 to alter it to Nor to obey ; and thought he had much mended mat- 
 ters. But he mistook the sound end of the line for the corrupt ; and 
 so by his emendation, the deep designing Iago is foolishly made to 
 
196 OTHELLO. ACT III. 
 
 throw oft' his mask, when he had most occasion for it ; and without 
 any provocation, stand before his captain a villain confessed ; at a 
 time, when, for the carrying on his plot, he should make the least 
 show of it. For thus Mr. Theobald forces him to say, I shall have 
 no remorse to obey your commands how bloody soever the business be. 
 But this is not Snakspearc's way of preserving the unity of character. 
 Iago, till now, pretended to be one, who, '.hough in the trade of war 
 he had slain men, yet held it the very stuff of the conscience to do no 
 contrived murder; when, of a sudden, without cause or occasion, he 
 owns himself a ruffian without remorse. Shakspcare wrote and 
 pointed the passage thus : 
 
 Let him command, 
 
 And to obey shall be in me. Remord 
 
 What bloody business ever. 
 i. e. however the business he sets me upon may shock my honur and 
 humanity, yet I promise to go through with it, and obey without re- 
 serve. Here lago speaks in character, while the sense and grammar 
 are made better by it. 
 So Skelton : 
 
 " And if so himfortune to "write and plaine, 
 
 " As so)neti?nes he ?nust vices remorde. 
 And again : 
 
 " Squire, knight, and lord, 
 
 " Thus the churche remorde." Warb. 
 Of these two emendations, I believe, Theobald's will have the. 
 greater number of suffrages; it has at hast mine. The objection 
 against the propriety of the declaration in lago, is a cavil; he does 
 not say that he has no principle of remorse, but that it shall not 
 operate against Othello's commands. To obey shall be in me, for / 
 will obey you, is a mode of expression not worth the pains here taken 
 to introduce it ; and the word remorde has not in the quotation the 
 meaning of withhold, or make reluctant, but of reprove, or censure ; 
 nor do I know that it is used by any of the contemporaries ol bhaks- 
 peare. 
 
 1 will offer an interpretation, which, if it be received, will make 
 alteration unnecessary, but it is very harsh and violent. Iago devotes 
 himself to wronged Othello, and says, Let him command whatever 
 bloody business, and in me it shall be an act, not of cruelty, but of ten- 
 derness, to ob<.y him ; not of malice to others, but of tenderness for 
 him. If this sense be thought too violent, I see nothing better than 
 to follow Pope's reading, as it is improved by Theobald. John. 
 
 Before I saw Dr. Johnson's edition of Shakspoare, my opinion of 
 this passage was formed, and written, and thus 1 understood it : " Let 
 him command any bloody business, and to obey shall be in me an act 
 of pity, and compassion for wrong'd Othello." Remorse frequently 
 signifies pity, mercy, compassion, ora tenderness of heart, unattended 
 with the stings of a guilty conscience. Toll. 
 
 * Let him command, &x.' The editors are great!}' mistaken 
 in supposing that remorse is at any time employed to signify 
 
Scene iv. othello. 197 
 
 pity, that is to say, pity simply, or tenderness : that commisera- 
 tion in short, which is excited in us by the distresses of our 
 fellow men. ' Remorse' properly taken, is pain occasioned by a 
 sense of gnilt, in which pity for the injured person is necessa- 
 rily included. Remorse, J say, must always have something 
 compunctious or repentant in its nature, which is not the case 
 with pity alone. This, however, is not the way in which the 
 word must be understood in the passage before us. It has here 
 the Latin metaphorical sense of revenge, and should be written 
 without the final e, (jremors). 
 
 The meaning of the whole is this — " Let Othello give the 
 word, and lago is ready to obey the call of revenge — to execute 
 vengeance on the offending party, however bloody the vengeance 
 may be." The lines must be read as follows — 
 
 ' Witness, that here lago doth give up 
 
 The execution of his wit, hands, heart, 
 
 To wrong'd Othello's service ! Let him command, 
 
 And to obey remors shall be in me, 
 
 What bloody work soever.' 
 In the several passages quoted by Mr. S. remorse should be - 
 explained by compunctive or sorrozcing pity, and not by compas- 
 sion merely, or sympathizing with the misery of another. B. 
 
 Clown. I will catechize the world for him ; that is, 
 make questions, and make them answer. 
 
 Clown. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions 
 and by them answer.] This Clown is a fool to some purpose. He was 
 to go seek for one ; he says he will ask for him, and by his own ques- 
 tions make answer. Without doubt we should read, and bid them 
 answer; i. e. the world; those whom we question. Warr. 
 
 ' I will catechize the world for him, 8tc.' Dr. Warburton 
 has done the foot injustice : he does not siy that he will answer 
 his own questions. The obvious meaning is — " I will question 
 of the world ; and from or by what I shall gather in consequence 
 of that question, I will make answer to you : — you shall know 
 the result of my inquiries." B. 
 
 Des. For let our ringer ach, and it endues 
 Our othev healthful members, ev'n to a sense 
 Of pain. 
 
 For let our finger ach, and it endues 
 Our other healthful members with a sense 
 Of pain. 
 Endues with a sense of pain, is an expression, which, though it 
 might be endured, if it were genuine, cannot deserve to be introduv 
 
198 OTHELLO. ACT IV. 
 
 ced by artifice. The copies, both quarto and folio, read : " Endues our 
 other healthful members even to a sense of pain.'"' I believe it should 
 be rather, " Subdues our other healthful members to a sense of 
 pain." John t . 
 
 " Endues," I believe, should be induces ; i. e. brings on, 
 superinduces. The passage should be printed thus : 
 " For let our linger ach, and it induces 
 " A sense of pain e'en to our healthful members." B. 
 
 Dts. Beshrew me much, iEmilia,. 
 I was (unhandsome warrior as I am) 
 Arraigning his unkindness with my soul ; 
 But now I find, I had suborn'd the witness, 
 And he's indited falsely. 
 
 Unhandsome warrior as I am.] How this came to be so blun- 
 dered, I cannot conceive. It is plain Shakspcare wrote, 
 
 Unhandsome wrangler as I am. 
 So, in Antony and Cleopatra : 
 
 " Fie, wrangling queen." Ware. 
 
 Unhandsome warrior, is evidently unfair assailant. John. 
 
 " Unhandsome warrior " should surely be " unhandsome 
 lawyer," or pleader. The context will sufficiently warrant this 
 reading. Tuazeyer and warrior being somewhat alike in sound, 
 the mistake was made in transcribing. B. 
 
 Bian. What! keep a week away? seven days and 
 
 nights ? 
 
 u What ! keep a week away ? — Seven days and nights ! " 
 " Hui ! univorsum triduum ! " Ter. B. 
 
 Oth. Nature would not invest herself in such sha- 
 dowing passion, without some instruction. 
 
 Without some instruction.'] The starts and broken reflections in 
 this speech have something very terrible, and show the mind of the 
 speaker to be in inexpressible agonies. But the words we are upon, 
 when set right, have a sublime in them that can never be 
 enough admired. The ridiculous blunder of writing instruction for 
 induction (for so it should be read) has indeed sunk into arrant non- 
 sense. Othello is just going to fall into a swoon ; and as is common 
 for people in that circumstance, feels an unusual mist and darkness, 
 accompanied with horror, coming upon him. This, with vast sub- 
 limity of thought, is compared to the season of the sun's eclipse, at 
 which time the earth becomes shadowed by the induction or bringing 
 
SCENE I. OTHELLO. \99 
 
 over of the moon between it and the sun. This being the allusion, 
 the. reasoning stands thus : " My nature could never be thus over- 
 shadowed, and falling, as it were, into dissolution, for no cause. 
 There must be an induction of something: there must be a real 
 cause. My jealousy cannot be merely imaginary. Ideas, words 
 only, could not shake me thus, and raise all this disorder. My 
 jealousy therefore must be grounded on matter of fact." Shakspeare 
 uses this word in the same sense, in Richard III. 
 
 " A dire induction am I witness to." 
 Marston seems to have read it thus in some copy, and to allude to it 
 in these words of his Fame : 
 
 " Plots ha' you laid ? inductions dangerous ! " W.uib. 
 
 This is a noble conjecture, and whether right or wrong, docs 
 honour to its author. Yet I am in doubt whether there is any ne- 
 cessity of emendation. There has always prevailed in the world an 
 opinion, that when any great calamity happens at a distance, notice 
 is given of it to the sufferer by some dejection or perturbation of 
 mind, of which he discovers no external cause. This is ascribed to 
 that general communication of one part of the universe with another, 
 which is called sympathy and antipathy ; or to the secret monition, 
 instruction, and influence of a superior Being which superintends the 
 order of nature and of life. Othello says, " Nature could not in- 
 vest herself in such shadowing passion without instruction. It is 
 not words that shake me thus." This passion, which spreads its 
 clouds over me, is the effect of some agency more than the operation 
 of words ; it is one of those notices which men have of unseen 
 calamities. John. 
 
 " Shadowing passion." Dr. Warburton's conjecture, abstract- 
 edly taken, may, perhaps, appear ingenious ; but his reasoning 
 on the passage is, in my opinion, no way just. That a man in 
 Othello's situation, and who is nearly falling into a swoon, should 
 be pondering in a philosophic manner on the cause or nature of 
 the sun's eclipse, or that he should even be tempted to allude to 
 it, is highly improbable. For " shadowing " I read shadowy, 
 and for " instruction," infraction. The meaning is : " Nature 
 would not fill me with apprehension (shadowy passion) unless 
 some violence had been done to her : unless there were some 
 infraction of her moral laws. B. 
 
 Dts. I would do much 
 To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. 
 
 Atone them.] Make them one ; reconcile them. John. 
 " Atone them " seems harsh. Perhaps we may read, 
 " Attune them," 
 i. e. Create an harmony between them — reconcile them. B. 
 
 Lod. This the noble nature 
 
200 OTHELLO. ACT IVr 
 
 Whom passion could not shake r w hose solid virtue 
 The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, 
 Could neither graze, nor pierce ? 
 
 Whose solid virtue 
 
 The shot of accident, nor dart of chance 
 Could neither, graze nor pierce.] But it is no commendation 
 to the most solid virtue to be free from the attacks of fortune ; but 
 that it is so impenetrable as to suffer no' impression. Now to graze 
 signifies only to touch the superficies of any thing. That is the attack 
 of fortune: and by that virtue is tried, but not discredited. We 
 ought certainly therefore to read : 
 
 Can neither raze nor pierce, 
 i. e. neither lightly touch upon, nor pierce into. The ignorant 
 transcribers being acquainted with the phrase a bullet grazing, and 
 shot being mentioned in the line before, they corrupted the true word. 
 Besides, \\v.- do not say, graze a thing; but graze on.it. Warb. 
 
 I have ventured to attack another part of this sentence, which 
 tv ingenious triend slipped over. T cannot see for my heart, the 
 difference betwixt the shot of accident and dart of chance. The 
 words and things they imply are purely synonymous ; but that the 
 poet intended two different things seems plain from the discretive 
 adverb. Chance may afflict a man in some circumstances; but 
 other distresses are to be accounted for from a different cause. I am 
 persuaded our author wrote : 
 
 " The shot of accident, nor dart of change, Sf-c. 
 And, in a number of other places, our poet industriously puts these 
 two words in opposition to each other. Theob. 
 
 To graze is not merely to touch superficially, but to strike not 
 directly, not so as to bury the body of the thing striking in the 
 matter struck. 
 
 Theobald trifles, as is usual. Accident and chance may admit a 
 subtle distinction ; accident may be considered as the act, and 
 chance as the power or agency of fortune; as, It teas by chance that 
 this accident bejel me. At least, if we suppose all corrupt that is 
 inaccurate, there will be no end of emendation. John.- 
 
 " Whose solid virtue," &c. These lines are neither corrupt, 
 nor obscure ; but the commentators have mistaken their particu- 
 lar meaning. When it is said of Othello that <l his virtue Mas 
 such, that neither the shot of accident nor the dart of chance 
 could ever graze or pierce it" — the inference to be drawn is not 
 that he was free from attack, but that he was invulnerable, or 
 proof against the attack which might be made on him : and this 
 is sufficiently marked by the word solid. Although Mr. Theo- 
 bald cannot " for his heart," discover the difference between 
 shot and dart, it will not, I believe, be the case with others. 
 As to Johnson's " subtle distinction" it is here unnecessarily in- 
 
SCENE II. OTHELLO. 201 
 
 troduced : and yet accident: and chance are not, in the present in- 
 stance, to be held as synonij/uous. The ' shot of accident' is a 
 random shot ; but the very reverse of this, ill the passage before 
 us, is to be understood of ' chance ,' which must be taken person- 
 ally and as spoken of fortune, persecutive fortune. " The god- 
 dess might throw her darts at him, and he would yet remain un- 
 wounded." In a word, in whatever way assaulted, his virtue 
 was held to be a tower of brass, impregnable, capable of re- 
 sisting every storm. B. 
 
 Oth. But alas ! to make me 
 
 A fixed figur6, for the time of scorn 
 To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 
 
 — time oj scorn] The reading of both the elder quartos and the 
 folio is, 
 
 fur the time of scorn. 
 
 Mr. Rowe reads, — hand of scorn; and succeeding editors have silently 
 followed him. 
 
 I would (though in opposition to so many great authorities in favor 
 of the change) continue to read with the old copy : 
 
 the time of scorn. 
 
 We call the hour in which :ve are to die, the hour of death — the time 
 when we are to be judged — the day of judgment — the instant when 
 we suffer calamity — the moment of evil ; and why may we not distin- 
 guish the time which brings contempt along with it, by the title of 
 the time of scorn? Steev. 
 
 Perhaps we should read, — slowly moving finger at. I should wish 
 to reject the present reading, for even then the word slow implied some 
 degree of motion, though that motion may not be perceptible to the 
 eye. The time of scorn is a strange expression, to which I cannot 
 reconcile myself; I have no doubt but it is erroneous, and wish we 
 had authority to read hand of scorn, instead of time. Monck 
 Mason. 
 
 " Time of scorn" is undoubtedly nonsense ; and if we admit 
 the " hand of scorn" of Rowe, we shall lose a very considerable 
 beauty, because we must then read — " the slow unmoving 
 finger of scorn," instead of the " slow unmoving finger of 
 time." 
 I read, 
 
 " A fixed figure and in scorn, for time 
 " To point his slow-umnoving finger at." 
 Nothing cau be more poetical or beautiful, than thus to depic- 
 ture Time. " Slow unmoving," for the imperceptible progres- 
 sion of time : time that is and is not. Othello's meaning is — 
 that he should ever after be held in scorn. ' Slow-unmoving is 
 
202 OTHELLO. ACT IV. 
 
 one of those expressions which must be felt to be thoroughly 
 understood. To explain it is wholly impossible. S lore 1 1/- mo- 
 ving has been proposed by some one, but such reading would 
 destroy the exquisite beauty of the thought : the change would 
 be wretched indeed ! B. 
 
 Oth'. Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads 
 To knot and gender in : — turn thy complexion there ! 
 Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim ; 
 Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 
 
 Turn thy complexion there, &c] At such an object do thou, 
 patience, thyself change color ; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub 
 as thou art, look as grim as hell. The old editions and the new have 
 it, 
 
 I here look grim as hell, 
 J was written for ay, and not since corrected. John. 
 " Turn thy complexion there! 
 Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim ; 
 Ay, there look grim as hell." 
 To make patience l look grim as hell' is by no means allow- 
 able. It is true that, as the passage now stands, no other inter- 
 pretation than that of Johnson can be received. I cannot but 
 think, however, that ' Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd 
 cherubim' should be given to Desdemona : and that ' turn thy 
 complexion' should be ' turn thee, complexion.' — 1 regulate and 
 explain the whole as follows. 
 
 Oth. ' Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads, 
 
 To knot and gender in ! Turn thee, complexion, there, 
 Ay, there look grim as hell. 
 Desd. Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim — 
 
 I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.' 
 Othello reflects on the supposed disloyalty of Desdemona. 
 His own complexion is black, so that he calls it grim as hell, 
 but his mind is white, it is pure, while that of his wife is sullied. 
 He therefore thinks that the mind and body should be alike : 
 that as the soul of Desdemona is black, so should be her visage, 
 and accordingly exclaims — ' Turn thee, complexion, there ! Ay 
 there look grim as hell' — " Go, complexion, go from me to her : 
 for there is thy proper seat." 
 
 The Lady, on hearing this, is about to call on patience in her 
 aid : but wishing to know the particular sentiment of her 
 husband, breaks off with — ' I hope, my noble lord esteems ine 
 honest.' B. 
 
 Qth. O thou weed, 
 
ACT V. SC. I. OTHELLO. 203 
 
 Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet, 
 That the sense aches at thee, — 'Would, thou hadst ne'er 
 been born ! 
 
 — thou weed /] Dr. Johnson has, on this occasion, been unjustly 
 censured for having stifled difficulties where he could not remove 
 them. I would therefore observe, that Othello's speech is printed 
 word for word from the folio edition, though the quarto reads: 
 
 thou black weed ! 
 Had this epithet, black, been admitted, there would still have re- 
 mained an incomplete verse in this speech : no additional beauty 
 would have been introduced ; but instead of it, a paltry antithesis 
 between the words black and fair. Steev. 
 " O thou weed, 
 Who art so lovely fair." 
 
 This remark of Mr. Steevens with regard to Dr. Johnson, is 
 far from being warranted by circumstances. That he has been 
 ' unjustly censured for stifling difficulties where he could not 
 remove them/ no one but his fellow-laborer, 1 think, will be 
 bold enough to maintain : and if Mr. S. had been desirous of 
 saving himself from the very same charge of having stifled diffi- 
 culties, and from the further blame of misrepresentation, he 
 would have told us that the quarto reads '' bluche (not black) 
 weed' so that no " paltry antithesis" is found, when the original 
 text is attended to. ' Blache'must then, as the true reading, be 
 restored to the page. It is the bleche of the French, and signifies 
 poor, weak, irresolute — an epithet which will well apply to Des- 
 demona, thus laboring under the suspicions of Othello. B. 
 
 Ictgo. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the 
 sense, 
 And he grows angry. 
 
 In some editions, 
 
 1'ie rubb'd this young gnat almost to the sense, 
 And he grows angry. 
 
 This is a passage much controverted among the editors. SirT. 
 Haumer reads quab, a gudgeon ; not that a gudgeon can be rubbed 
 to much sense, but that a man grossly deceived is often called a gud- 
 geon. Mr. Upton reads quail, which he proves, by much learning, 'o 
 be a very choleric bird. Dr. Warburton retains gnat, which is found 
 in the early quarto. Theobald would introduce knot, a small bii t 
 that name. I have followed the text of the folio, and third and fourth 
 quartos. 
 
 A quat in the midland counties is a pimple, which b) rubbing is 
 
204 OTHELLO. ACT V. 
 
 made to smart, or is rubbed to sense. Roderigo is called a quat by 
 the same mode of speech, as a low fellow is now termed in low lan- 
 guage a scab. ~ To rub to the sense, is to rub to the quick. John. 
 
 The same explanation appeared in a magazine in the year 1748. 
 
 Editor. 
 
 So, in The Devil's Law Case, 1 623 : " O young quat ! inconti- 
 nence is plagued in all creatures in the world." 
 
 Again, in Decker's Gul's Hornbook, 1609: " —whether he be a 
 yong quat of the first yeers revenncw, or some austere and sullen-fac'd 
 •teward, &c." 
 
 Such another thought occurs in Ben Jonson's Catiline : 
 " — must have their disgraces still new rubb'd, 
 " To make them smart, &c." Steev. 
 
 All the commentators, 1 believe, have, mistaken the sense of 
 this passage. A " quat," in my opinion, is an intimate, a crony. 
 We now say, when we speak of the intimacy of one man with 
 another, — " O ! they are quater-cousins." — I therefore read as 
 follows : 
 
 "I haxefubb'd this young quat," &c. 
 i. e. I havefubb'd, or put off, this quater-cousin, or associate of 
 mine, as long as possible, and now he grows angry. " Quat" 
 appears to be an abbreviation of " quater," and may have been 
 used for quater-cousin or friend, in the same way that cuz is em- 
 ployed for cousin, a relation by blood or marriage. 
 
 This reading will be greatly strengthened when it is remem- 
 bered that Roderigo was really the intimate of Iago : that Iago 
 had long fubb'd or put him off, and that he began to grow sen- 
 sible of the injury done him. Roderigo says p. 710 : ' I begin 
 to find myself fubb'd in it.' B. 
 
 JEmil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. 
 Oth, She was false as water. 
 
 false as water.] ' As water that will support no weight, nor keep 
 any impression. John. 
 
 ' False as water.' When the Poet says " false as water,' it is 
 spoken of that element as being afuid. But though, as a fluid, 
 it can receive no l< lasting impression," it cannot strictly be said 
 that it will " support «o weight/' By false, however, Shaks- 
 peare evidently means to point-to that which cannot be laid hold 
 of: that, which like a shadow, we are unable to grasp ; that, in 
 short, which will elude our attack, or deceive by its appearance. 
 This, I think, is the way in which the expression is to be under- 
 stood : while, at the same time, the commonly received opinion 
 respecting the nature of water must hold, or the comparison will 
 be naught. For it should be remembered that Boerhaave, Boyle, 
 and other eminent men, have maintained that water is naturally 
 of the chrystaline kind. They observe, " we sometimes find it 
 
SCENE II. OTHELLO." 205 
 
 appear in a fluid, and sometimes in a solid form : and as the 
 former in our warmer climate is the more usual, we conclude it 
 the proper one, and ascribe the other to the extraneous action of 
 cold. Ice is usually said to be water brought into a preter- 
 natural state by cold ; yet with regard to the nature of things, 
 and setting aside our arbitrary ideas, it might as justly be said 
 that water is ice preternaturally thawed by heat." Now this point, 
 which is yet controverted among Naturalists, must be determined, 
 before we can speak positively as to the justness and propriety 
 of the image in the text. B. 
 
i&omeo ana Juliet 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Sam. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. 
 Greg. No, for then we should be colliers. 
 
 We'll not carry coals.] Dr. Warburtcn very justly observes, that this 
 •was a phrase formerly in use to signify the beuring injuries ; but, as he 
 has given no instances in support or his declaration, 1 thought it neces- 
 sary to subjoin the following : 
 
 Nash, in his Have with you to Saffron Walden, 1595, says : " We will 
 lear no coles, I warrant you." , So, Skelton : 
 
 " You, I say, Julian, 
 
 " Wyll you beare no coles f " Steev. 
 
 A quibble on coal, Eng. and colle, Fr. Colle is what we call 
 sham, hum, imposition. "We'll not carry coles," or colhs — i.e.. 
 " We'll not be imposed on. We'll not be bamboozled." B. 
 
 Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, 
 Should, without eyes, see path-ways to his will ! 
 
 To his will/] Sir T. Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read, to 
 his ill. The present reading has some obscurity ; the meaning may be, 
 that love finds out means to pursue his desire. That the Mind should 
 find paths to ill is no great wonder. John. 
 
 " To his will ! " The reading of the quarto, 1597, and which Mr. 
 S. would recommend, is unsuitable to the situation and character 
 of Romeo. The text requires no other alteration than that of 
 printing seek in place of " see," and ill for " well." 
 " Alas ! that love, whose view is muffled still, 
 " Should, without eyes, seek path-ways to his ill." 
 i.e. " Alas ! that love, who is blind, and who, consequently, should 
 not pursue his way unguided, will yet obstinately do so : by which 
 
SCENE II. ROMEO AND JULIET. SJ07 
 
 he runs into misery — by which he encounters every ill." It is seen 
 that the word seek at once gives force and clearness to the sentiment. 
 
 Roni. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; 
 Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes. 
 
 Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in /overs' eyes.] The author may mean 
 being purged of smoke, but it is perhaps a meaning never given to the 
 word in any other place. 1 would rather read, being urg'd, a fire spark- 
 ling. Being excited and intbrced. To urge the lire is the technical 
 term. John. 
 
 I do not believe that " purg'd " has any reference to" smoke. 
 " Being purg'd," is being pure. Love, says the poet, is for the 
 most part as a smoke; but when pure, it is as a fire," &e. B. 
 
 Cap. Hear all, all see, 
 
 And like her most, whose merit most shall be : 
 Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, 
 May stand in number, though in reckoning none. 
 
 Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, 
 May stand in number, though i?i reckoning none.~\ 
 The first of these lines- I do not understand. The old folio gives no 
 help : the passage is there, " Which one more view." I can offer nothing 
 better than this : 
 
 Within your view of many, mine, being one, 
 May stand in number, &c. John. 
 
 A very slight alteration will restore the clearest sense to this passage, 
 Slukspeare might have written the lines thus : 
 
 u Search among view of many : mine, being one, 
 " May staud in number, though in reckoning none." 
 i.e. " Amongst the many you will view there, search for one that will 
 please you. Chuse out of the multitude." This agrees exactly with 
 what he had already said to him : 
 
 " Hear all, all see, 
 
 " And like her most, whose merit most shall be." 
 " My daughter " (he proceeds) " will, it is true, be one of the number, 
 but her beauty can be of no reckoning " (i. e. estimation) " among those 
 whom you will see here." Reckoning for estimation, is used before in 
 this very scene : 
 
 ," Of honorable reckoning you are both." Steev. 
 
 " Such, among view of many, mine, being one, 
 " May stand in number, tho' in reckoning none." 
 The reading of the text I conceive to be right. " Such " has re- 
 ference to " merit," in the immediately preceding line. " See all, 
 hear all ; you will find at my house many females of merit, and 
 among such [among the many having merit] my daughter may 
 stand in number ; though you, perhaps, may take no [reckoning] 
 account of her ; some other particularly attracting your notice." 
 There is, apparently, a play on the words number and reckoning, 
 which somewhat obscures the meaning. B. 
 
208 ROMEO AND JULIET. SCENE T. 
 
 Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own 
 word : 
 If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire. 
 
 Tut ! dun's the mouse, the constable's owri a-orrf.] This poor obscure 
 stuff should have an explanation in mere charity. It is an answer to 
 these two lines of Romeo : 
 
 For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase ; — and 
 The game was ne'er so fair, and' I am done. 
 Mercutio, in his reply, answers the last line first. The thought of 
 which, and of the preceding, is taken from gaming. I'll be a candle- 
 holder (says Romeo) und look on. It is true, If I could play myself, I 
 could never expect a fairer chance than in the company we are going to : 
 but, alas ! J am done. I have nothing to play with : I have lost my 
 heart already. Mercutio catches at the word done, and quibbles with it, 
 as if Romeo had said, The ladies indeed are fair, but I am dun, i. e. of 
 a dark complexion. And so replies, Tut ! dun's the mouse ; a proverbial 
 expression of the same import with the French, La nuit tons les chats 
 sont gris : as much as to say, You need not fear, night will make all your 
 complexions alike. And because R.omeo had introduced his observa- 
 tions with, 
 
 lam proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, 
 Mercutio adds to his reply, the constable's own word : as much as to say, 
 If you are for old proverbs, I'll fit you with one; 'tis the constable's ow?i 
 word; who^e custom was, when he summoned his watch, and assigned 
 them their several stations, to give them what the soldiers call, the word. 
 But this night-guard being distinguished for their pacific character, the 
 constable, as an emblem of their harmless disposition, chose that domes- 
 tic animal for his word, which, in time, might become proverbial. War. 
 A proverbial saying, used by Mr. Tho. Hey wood, in his play entitled 
 The Duchess of Suffolk, act iii. 
 
 " A rope for Bishcp Bonner, Clunce run, 
 " Call help, a rope, or we are all undone. 
 " Draw dun out of the ditch." Dr. Grey. 
 
 Draw dun out of the mire, seems to have been a game. In an old 
 collection of Satyres, Epigrams, &c. I find it enumerated among other 
 pastimes : 
 
 " At shove-groate, venter-point, or crosse and pile, 
 
 " At leaping o'er a Midsommer bone-fier, 
 
 " Or at the drawing dun out of the myer." Stf.ev. 
 
 " Dun's the mouse, 
 " If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire." 
 This is very obscure. The passage indeed is so entangled, that 
 it is scarcely possible to render it intelligible : I will, however, 
 attempt it. In the first place, " Dun's the mouse," is said in allu- 
 sion to the ordinary color of the mouse. But the quibble rests on 
 the English word mouse, and the French woid mousse, which signi- 
 fies dull, heavy, stupid. He plays likewise (as Dr. W. observes) 
 on done and dun. Romeo remarks that he is done, or, being in 
 love, that he is done for, as we now express it. Mercutio replies : 
 " To say that you are done is to say that you are dull, or of little 
 wit ;" for, he continues, " dun's the mouse," i. e. to be done is the 
 same as to be mousse or dull ; a word suited to, or the character 
 
SCENE IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 209 
 
 that should be given of a constable. In conformity to tin's opinion 
 respecting the distinguishing quality of the officer in question, the 
 Poet has set down among the Dramatis Personal of one of his 
 plays — " Dull, a Constable." " Dun," is a contraction of dunce, 
 or a blockish, stupid character. 
 
 To " draw dun out- of the mire " is a proverbial expression. 
 It means, to draw a man out of trouble, to extricate from difficul- 
 ties such persons as from want of sense or forecast may have run 
 into them. ii. 
 
 Mer. O, then, I see. queen Mab hath been with you. 
 She is the fairies' midwife. 
 
 O, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been rcith you. 
 
 She is the fairies' Midwife.] Thus begins that admirable speech 
 upon the effects of the imagination in dreams. But, Qu?en Mab the 
 fairies' mid-wife? What is she then Queen of? Why, the fairies. What! 
 and their midwife too ? but this is not the greatest of the absurdities. 
 Let us see upon what occasion she is introduced, and under what quality. 
 It is as a being that has great power over human imagination. But 
 then the title given her must have reference, to the employment she is 
 put upon : First then, she is called Queen; which is very pertinent, for 
 that designs her power: then she is called the fairies' midwife ; but 
 what has that to do with the point in hand ? If" we would think that Shaks- 
 
 peare wrote sense, we must say he wrote the fancy's midwife ; and 
 
 this is a proper title, as it introduces all that is said afterwards of her 
 vagaries. Besides, it exactly quadrates with these lines : 
 
 1 talk of dreams, 
 
 Which are the children of an idle brain, 
 Begot of nothing but vain fantasie. 
 These dreams are begot upon fantasie, and Mab is the midwife to bring 
 them forth. And fancy's midwife is a phrase altogether in the manner 
 of our author. Warb. 
 
 All the copies (three of which were published in our author's life- 
 time) concur in reading fairies' midwife, and Dr. Warburton's alteration 
 appears to be quite unnecessary. The fairies' midwife does not mean the 
 midwife to the fairies, but that she was the person among the fairies, 
 whose department it was to deliver the fancies of sleeping men of their 
 dreams, those children of an idle brain. When we say the king's judges, 
 we do not mean persons who are to judge the king, but persons ap- 
 pointed by him to jud^e his subjects. Steev. 
 
 " O, then, I see, Queen Mab has been with you. 
 " She is the fancy's midwife, and she comes 
 " In shape," &c. 
 I am of opinion that M midwife" is not the poet's word; and 
 that the commentators, in their attempt at explication, are conse- 
 quently wrong. I would read : 
 
 " O, then, I see, Queen Mab has been with you. 
 " She is the fairies' missive, and she comes," <£c. 
 " Missive " is not, in this place, messenger simply, and as it Is 
 generally understood, but one who has a mission from the fairies— 
 she, whom the fairies have invested with power ; as we now pro- 
 nounce of the kingly character, that he derived his authority ori- 
 
 Shak. I. O 
 
£10 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I. 
 
 ginally from the people. There is, moreover, a material objection 
 to " midwife," since it is the function of Mab to fill or impregn 
 the mind ill sleep; which impregnation is then called dream or fan- 
 cy, which is the immediate province or business of nature, of awa- 
 kened nature, to remove, to take away the load under which the 
 sleeping imagination (if the language be permitted me) may be 
 said to suffer. The mistake, in regard to this expression, has, like 
 many others in Shakspeare, had its rise as it would seem at the 
 printing-house, and is easily accounted for. The long s has been 
 carelessly turned by the compositor, so as to appear like d 
 in the sheet fiist thrown off, Mijdive : this " middive," being dis- . 
 covered by him, and the language affording no such word, he sup- 
 posed from the sound that it should be midwife ; and he has cor- 
 rected it as we find in the text. 
 
 It will be seen by Warburton's comment, that he had found (as 
 almost every one must do) " fairies' midwife " to be absurd : but 
 " fancy's midwife " mends not the expression in the least. And it 
 will be further seen, by attending more particularly to the Bishop's 
 argument, and when he speaks of the power of Mab as a queen, 
 and of her occupation as a midwife, it will then appear, I say, that 
 " the latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning." He 
 runs at the same time into another error in saying, (and in order to 
 prove that Mab is fancy's midwife) " These dreams are begot 
 upon fantasie, and Mab is the midwife to bring them forth ; " for 
 dreams are not begotten upon fantasie. Dream and fancy are one 
 and the same. This mistake of the learned prelate has arisen from, 
 his not having understood the following lines, and which must be 
 pointed thus : 
 
 "I talk of dreams, 
 " Which are the children of an idle brain, 
 " Begot of nothing : but vain fantasie. " 
 The construction is : " Dreams are begotten of nothing : {they are] 
 but vain fantasie ! " B. 
 
 1 Serv. Away with the joint stools, remove the 
 court-cupboard, look to the plate. 
 
 Court-cupboard.] I am not very certain that I know the exact signi- 
 fication of cor.rt-cupboard. Perhaps it is what we call at present the 
 side-board. - It is however frequently mentioned in the old plays : so, in 
 a Humorous Days Mirth, 1599 : " shadow these tables with their white 
 veils, and accomplish the court-cupboard.'' Steev. 
 
 " Court-cupboard." This cupboard was made use of in former 
 days as the sideboard is now. This receptacle or stand for plate, 
 China-ware, &c. is still found in certain houses, and is known by 
 the name of buffett. The meaning of the word court, which is 
 here prefixed to it, is : Such buffett or cupboard set out with 
 more than usual splendor for public meetings or rejoicing days. B. 
 
ACT II. SC. III. ROMEO AXD JULIET* 211 
 
 Mer. Cry but — Ay me ! couple but — love and 
 dove ; 
 
 Cry but — Ay me ! couple but — lore and dote.] The quarto, 1597, reads 
 pronounce, the two succeeding quartos and the first folio, provant : the 
 second, third and fourth iolios amply ; and Mr. Rowe, who printed from 
 the last of these, formed the present reading. Provant, in ancient lan- 
 guage, signifies provision. So, in " The Court and Kitchen of Elizabeth, 
 called Joan Cromwell, the wife of the laic usurper, truly described and 
 represented," 1664, p. 14. " — carrying some dainty provant for her own 
 and her daughter's repast." To provant is to provide ; and to provide is to 
 furnish. " Provant but love and dove," may therefore mean furnish, but 
 such hackney'd rhimesas these are the trite effusions of lovers. Stf.ev. 
 
 ' Cry but — Ay me ! provant, &c.' This ' provant' should surely 
 be pronant, participle of the french verb proner, to preach, pro- 
 claim, send forth. " Cry but — Aye me! sending forth, or sighing 
 out but love and dove, &c." B. 
 
 Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy ; 
 Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. 
 
 Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.] i. e. you woidd he just what 
 you are, although you were not of the House of Montague. Warb. 
 I think the true reading is, 
 
 Thou art thyself, then not a Montague. 
 Thou art a being of peculiar excellence, and hast none of the malignity 
 of the family from which thou hast thy name. — Hanmer reads, 
 Thou'rt not thyself so, though a Montague. John. 
 I think the commentators have mistaken the poet's meaning. I 
 would read, with only a transposition of the words : 
 " 'Tis but thy name that is mine enemy, 
 " And not thyself, though thou'rt a Montague." B. 
 
 Jul. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond : 
 And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light ; i 
 But'trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true, 
 Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 
 
 — coying to be strange, j For coying the modern editions have cunning. 
 
 John. 
 
 Cunning is the reading of the elder quarto, and I have restored it. To 
 coy is nevertheless an old verb. So, in a Woman never vex'd, 1632 : 
 
 " Love is so young, it coys but cannot speak." 
 To be strange, is to put on affected coldness, to appear shy. So, in Greene's 
 Mumillia, 1593 : " — It is fashion in Padua to be so strange with your 
 friends?" Stf.ev. 
 
 * Coying to be strange.' This reading, and which will mean 
 affected strangeness, strangeness put, on ; or, as we should now 
 say prudery, — is preferable to that of the text. B. 
 
 Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning 
 night, 
 Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ; 
 
212 EOM£0 AND JULIET. ACT III- 
 
 And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels 
 
 From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels. 
 
 And flecked darkness. Flecked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or varie- 
 gated. 
 
 " Flecked,'' is undoubtedly spotted. But the right word is cer- 
 tainly flickren (flickering or fluttering) and which has been written 
 as we are to suppose flick'red ; and it may here be proper to ob- 
 serve that the participial adjective (as well past as present) had in 
 former days the termination in en, which it now has in ed and 
 ing. To flicker or flutter is in the dictionaries explained — to 
 move irregularly. To say therefore that night went ofFinan irregu- 
 lar manner like a drunkard, is perfectly just. The text is evidently 
 wroniTj tor if flecked or spotted darkness be likened to a reeling man, 
 where is the truth of the comparison ? B. 
 
 Nurse. I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this 
 that was so full of his ropery ? 
 
 — of his ropery ?] Ropery was anciently used in the same sense as 
 roguery is now. So, in the Three Ladies of' London, 1584 : 
 '* Thou art very pleasant and full ofthy roperye." 
 Rope tricks are mentioned in another place. Steev. 
 
 ' Of his ropery.' ' Ropery' should, I think, be rodery from 
 rodere, (Itah of Lat.) to bite, carp at, torment. B. 
 
 i m 
 
 Friar. Here comes the lady : — O, so light a foot 
 Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint : 
 
 Here copies the lady, &c. However the poet might think the alteration 
 of this scene on the whole to be necessary, I am afraid, in respect of the 
 passage before us, he has not been very successful. The violent hyper- 
 bole of never zcearing out the everlasting flint appears to me not only 
 more reprehensible, but even less beautiful than the lines as they were 
 originally written, where the lightness of Juliet's motion is accounted for 
 from the cheerful effects thepassion of love produced in her mind. Steev. 
 ' Here comes the lady, &c.' What Mr. Steevens would give us 
 to understand by — " not only more reprehensible, but even less 
 beautiful," is not very easy to discover: and when he calls, 'never 
 wearing out the everlasting flint' a violent hyperbole, it is evident 
 that he knows not the nature of the figure of which he speaks. Had 
 Shakspeare spoken of a foot that would wear out the everlasting 
 flint, it were indeed a true hyperbole : though certainly not to be 
 censured as such, since the words even then are not to be taken 
 according to the letter, but as meaning by the exaggeration, to con- 
 vey an idea of an uncommonly heavy and ponderous foot. This, I 
 say, will particularly mark the trope in question ; but the sentiment 
 of our author from the use of the word ' never' assumes a totally 
 different character. The line is highly expressive of a light and airy 
 tread. B. 
 
 Ben. Romeo that spoke him fair^ bid him bethink 
 How nice the quarrel was. 
 
SCENE III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 213 
 
 How nice the quarrel. How slight, how unimportant, how petti/. So in 
 the last act, 
 
 The letter was not nice, but full of charge 
 Of dear import. John. 
 « How nice the quarrel.' ' Nice' should be printed nise, fniais 
 simple, trifling,) so that the word may not be taken in its common 
 acceptations of exact, delicate. B. 
 
 Jul. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing "night ! 
 That run-away's eyes may wink ; and Romeo 
 Leap to these arms untalk'd of, and unseen ! 
 
 Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, 
 That run-away's eyes may wink ; 
 What run-aways are these, whose eyes Juliet is wishing to have stopt ! 
 Macbeth, we may remember, makes an invocation to light much in the 
 same strain ; 
 
 " Come, seeling night, 
 
 " Scarf u^ the tender eye of pitiful day," &c. 
 So Juliet would have night's darkness obscure the great eye of the day, 
 the sun ; whom considering in a poetical light as Phabus, drawn in his car 
 with fiery-fooled steeds, and posting through the heavens, she very pro- 
 perly calls him, with regard to the swiftness of his course, the run-axcay. 
 In the like manner our poet speaks of the night in the Merchant of Ve- 
 nice : 
 
 " For the close night doth play the run-away." Ward. 
 The construction of this passage, however elliptical or perverse, I be- 
 lieve to be as follows : 
 
 May that runaway's eyes wink ! 
 Or, That run-away's eyes, may (they) wink ! 
 
 These ellipses are frequent in Spenser ; and that for oh f that, is not 
 uncommon, as Dr. Farmer observes in a note on the first scene of the 
 Winter's Tale. So, in Anthony and Cleopatra, actiii. sc. C. 
 
 That ever I should call thee cast-away. ! 
 Juliet first wishes for the absence of the sun, and then invokes the night 
 to spread its curtain close around the world : 
 
 Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! 
 next, recollecting that the night would seem short to her, she speaks of 
 it as of a run-away whose flight she would wish to retard, and whose 
 eyes she would blind lest they should make discoveries. The ryes of night 
 are the stars, so called in the Midsummer Night's Dream. Dr. YVarbur- 
 ton has already proved that Shakspeare terms the night a run-away in 
 the Merchant of Venice : and in the Fair Maid of the Exchange, 1607, it 
 is spoken of under the same character : 
 
 '•' The night hath play'd the swift-foot run-away." 
 Romeo was not expected by Juliet till the sun was gone, and therefore it 
 was of no consequence to her that any eyes should wink but those of the 
 night ; for, as Ben Jonson says in Scjanus ; 
 
 " — night hath many eyes, 
 " Whereof, tho' most do sleep, yet some are spies." Steev. 
 ' Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, 
 ' That run-away's eyes may wink,' 
 Warburton's reading, in which Phojbus is made ' the run-away,' 
 must be wrong, as not being congruous with the general expression 
 of Juliet. Her thoughts are supposed to be uniformly fixed on 
 
214 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III. 
 
 night. She would therefore talk of the tardiness of the god of day 
 and not of his swiftness : she would describe him as ' lazy pacing' 
 (an epithet of our author's) if she described him at all. I suspect, 
 however, that the passage is corrupt and would therefore read: 
 " That runagate's eyes may wink : arid Romeo, 
 " Leap to these arms untalk'd of and unseen." 
 which must be understood as follows — " Let the eyes of runagates, 
 rebels, or love-apostates be shut ; so that there may be no opposi- 
 tion, no hindrance to the completion of my wishes." When the 
 context is attended to, particularly in respect to the words — • and 
 come untalk'd of and unseen,' — it will be admitted, I think, that 
 change is necessary : that something, in short, should be substituted 
 for run-away : and it may be farther acknowledged, perhaps, that I 
 have fallen on the proper term. B. 
 
 Jul. Come, gentle night ; come, loving, black-brow'd 
 night, 
 Give me my Romeo : and, when he shall die, 
 Take him and cut him out in little stars. 
 
 lake him and cut him into little stars, &c. The same childish thought 
 occurs in The Wisdom of Doctor Dodypole, which was acted before the 
 year 1596. Steev. 
 
 ' Take him and cut him into little stars.' This thought, which 
 Mr. Steevens has styled childish, is in fact classical, as we find by 
 very many passages in the Greek and Roman Poets. It was, in- 
 deed, the opinion of the antients, that the most considerable among 
 them were at their decease translated to some star or constellation. 
 Hence the common expression inter sidera relatus. The wish of 
 Juliet therefore is countenanced by the highest poetical authority. 
 It must not be denied, however, that ' take him and cut him into 
 little stars/ has rather too much prettiness in it, but we must 
 remember that it is a woman who speaks. B. 
 
 Rom. Where is 'she! and how doth she? and what 
 says 
 My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love ? 
 
 — cancell'd love. ? The folio rends conceal'd love. John. 
 
 The quarto, cancell'd love. Steev. 
 
 * My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love.' Why should Romeo 
 be made to speak of his lady as being concealed? The true reading 
 will surely be conscikd (conseille fr.) advised; here used in the 
 more particular sense of wary', circumspect, and which may natu- 
 rally be supposed of Juliet. As to • cancelled love,' it cannot be 
 right. We may indeed, read, '■ ensealed love, ' i. e. " love to which 
 we are in honor bound — engagements which cannot be departed 
 from—- vows which cannot be broken." B. 
 
 Friar. Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote 
 
SCENE V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 215 
 
 The unreasonable fury of a beast : 
 Unseeming woman, in a seeming man ! 
 Or ill beseeming beast, in seeming both ! 
 
 Unseemly woman, &c. This strange nonsense Mr. Pope threw out of 
 his edition for desperate. But it is easily restored as Shakspeare wrote 
 it into good pertinent sense. 
 
 Unseemly woman in a seeming man I 
 An ill-beseeming beast in seeming groth. 
 i. €. you have the ill-beseeming passions of a brute beast in the well seem- 
 ing shape of a rational creature. For having in theirs? line said he was 
 a woman in the shape of a man, he aggravates the thought in the second, 
 and says, he was even a brute in the shape of a rational creature. Seem- 
 ing is used in both places for seemly. \Y » rb. 
 
 The old reading is probable. Thou art a beast of ill qualities, under tha 
 appearance both of a iLomun and a man. John. 
 
 ■ Unseemly woman,' &c. This is printed as though the Friar 
 would speak of an 'unseemly woman.' But this is not the case. 
 * Unseemly' belongs not to ' woman,' it applies entirely to the con- 
 duct of Romeo— to his tears and hisfitry. Read, 
 " Unseemly ! woman in a seeming man, 
 " An ill-beseeming beast in seeming both." 
 i. e. " This is unbefitting Romeo. B^ tears to appear as a woman ; 
 and by fury as a beast." 
 
 This is undoubtedly the sense, since he had said in the imme- 
 diately preceding line/ thy tears are womanish :' by which it is signi- 
 fied that tears are ever ready with a woman. The passage should there- 
 fore be read as I have altered and interpreted it. Or it must be 
 (which is not however so well,) ' a seemly woman,' &c. — for so the 
 general reasoning will require. B. 
 
 Jul, Who is't that calls ! is it my lady mother ? 
 Is she not down so late, or up so early ? 
 M hat unaccustom'd cause procures her hither ? 
 
 — procures her hither f Procures for brings. Warb. 
 
 ' What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither'?' ' Procures her 
 hither' is uncommonly harsh, and to interpret it by brings her 
 hither is allowing too great a latitude to expression. 
 
 The poet, I believe, has formed a word on the latin procurro, 
 and written ' what cause procurs her hither V i. e. **. what can occa- 
 sion her coming forth at this time, and before any other person.'' 
 This reading is warranted by the context. B. 
 
 Nurse. The Eade 
 
 Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye 
 As Paris hath. 
 
 So green.] So the first editions. Hanmer reads, — so keen. Johk. 
 Perhaps Chaucer has given to Emetrius, in the Knight's Tale, eyes of 
 the same color :" 
 
 •' His nose wai high, his eyin bright citryn." 
 
216 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV. 
 
 i. e. of the hue of an unripe lemon or citron. 
 
 Again, in the Txco Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher and Shakspeare, Act v. 
 sc. I : 
 
 " oh vouchsafe, 
 
 " With that thy rare green eye," &c. Steev. 
 
 '*• So green an eye." This should be so gleen [shiny or shining] 
 an eve. " To gleen " is to shine with heat or polish. The eye of 
 the Eagle is remarkably brilliant. The "green eye" in the Noble 
 Kinsmen should likewise be altered to gleen. 
 
 " Hath not so °reen, so quick, so fair an eye." 
 
 " Fair" may no doubt stand, as being expressive (by licence) of 
 mild, pleasing ; but as it is wanting in force, aud French words be- 
 ing common in the time of Shakspeare, I should prefer fier, which 
 is nearly the same in sound, and in the sense of bold, commanding. 
 B. 
 
 Par. Happil v met, my lady and my wife ! 
 Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. 
 
 My lady, and my wife :] As these four first lines seem intended to 
 rhyme, perhaps the author wrote thus : 
 
 — my lady and my life .' John. 
 
 f " My lady and my wife ! " " Wife " is certainly our author's 
 word iu both instances. The reduplication is wholly in his man- 
 ner. B. 
 
 Jul. Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife 
 Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that 
 Which the commission of thy years and art 
 Could to no issue of true honor bring. 
 
 Commission of thy years and art.] Commission is for authority or power. 
 John. 
 
 **. Commission of thy years aud art." This " commission " I 
 rather think should be commixion. Shakspeare uses the word in 
 Troilus and Cressida ; and it is common with the writers of his 
 time. B. 
 
 Mus. What will you give us ? 
 
 Pet. No money, on my faith ; but the gleek. 
 
 The gleek.] So, in the Midsummer Night's Dream : 
 " Nay, I can gleek, upon occasion." 
 To gleek is to scoff. The term is taken from an ancient game at cards 
 called gleek. Steev. 
 
 " The gleek." " To gleek " is to scoff, and " gleek" is a " game 
 at cards," says Mr. Steevens. But gleek is likewise a trill, shake, 
 quaver, in music. This last is evidently the sense required here. B. 
 
 ■ 
 Pet. When gripuig grief the heart doth wound. 
 
 When griping grief, &c] The epithet griping was by no means likely 
 to excite laughter at the time it was written. Lord Surry, in his trans- 
 
ACT V. SC. XI. ROMEO AND JULIET. 217" 
 
 lation of the second book of Virgil's /Encid, makes the hero say : 
 
 " New gripes of dred then pcarse our trembling brestes." 
 Dr. Percy thinks that the questions of Peter are designed as a ridicule 
 on the forced and unnatural explanations too often given by us painful 
 editors of ancient authors. Steev. 
 
 " Griping grief." Does Mr. Steevens here speak of himself, as 
 of an editor giving pain? If so, lie is perfectly right. B. 
 
 Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, 
 My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. 
 
 If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep.] The sense is, " If I may 
 only trust the honesty of sleep, which I know however not to be so nice 
 as not often to practice flattery." John. 
 
 The oldest copy reads — the flattering eye of sleep. Whether this 
 reading ought to supersede the more modern one, I shall not pretend to 
 determine : it appears to me, however, the most easily intelligible of the 
 two. Steev. 
 
 " If I- may trust." The old copy comes nearest to the appa- 
 rently right reading. " Eye," should certainly he ay, or aye. 
 Romeo means to insinuate that sleep says aye (yes) to his wishes : 
 that sleep affirms that he shall be happy. Aio, Lat. B. 
 
 Rom. Is it even so ? then I defy you, stars ! — 
 
 J defy you, stars .'] The folio reads — deny you, stars. Steev. 
 
 •* I defy you, stars." " Deny you. stars," is the better reading. 
 The meaning plainly is : " Stars, ye promised me well ; but I am 
 now undeceived : I therefore deny your power : your influence 
 shall not be acknowledged by me." B. 
 
 Lau. Unhappy fortune ! by my brotherhood, 
 The letter was not nice, but full of charge 
 Of dear import. 
 
 Was not nice.] i. e. was not written on a trivial or idle subject. 
 
 The learned editor of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 1775, observes that 
 H. Stephens informs us, that nice was the old French word for niais, one 
 of the synonymes of sot. Apol. Herod. 1. i. c. 4. Steev. 
 
 A like in King Richard III. fully supports Mr. Steevens's interpretation : 
 ** My Lord, this argues conscience in your grace, 
 " But the respects thereof are nice and trivial." Mal. 
 
 *' Was not nice." The old French word is nise, the same as niais, 
 silly, trifling. " Nice," should of course be here printed nise. 
 B. 
 
 Rom. For fear of that, I will still stay with thee ; 
 And never from this palace of dim night 
 Depart again. 
 
 O, here 
 Will I set up my everlasting rest ; 
 And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
 
218 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V. 
 
 From this world wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last ! 
 Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you 
 The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
 A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! — 
 Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide ! 
 Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
 The dashing rocks th) sea-sick weary bark ! 
 Here's to thy health, where'er thou tumblest in : 
 Here's to my love ! — [Drinks.~\ O, true apothecary ! 
 Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. 
 
 And never from this palace of dim night 
 Depart again : (Come, lie tnou in my arms; 
 Here's to thy health. () true apothecary ! 
 
 Thy. drugs are quick.)] Mr. Pope's and some other of the worser 
 editions acknowledge absurdly the lines which I have put into paren- 
 thesis here ; and which I have expunged from the text, for this reason t 
 Romeo is made to confess the effect of the poison before ever he has 
 tasted it. I suppose, it hardly was so savory that the patient should 
 choose to make two draughts of it. And, eight lines after these, we 
 find him taking the poison m his hands, and making an apostrophe to 
 it ; inviting it to perform its office at once ; and then, and not till then, 
 dees he clap it to his lips, or can with any probability speak of its in- 
 stant force and effects. Besides Shakspeare would hardly have made 
 Jlomeo drink to the health of his dead mistress. Though the first quarto 
 in 1599, and the two old folios, acknowledge this absurd stuff, I find it 
 left out in several later quarto impressions. I ought to take notice, that 
 though Mr. Pope has thought fit to stick to the old copies in this addi- 
 tion, yet he is no fair transcriber; for he has sunk upon us an hemistich 
 of most profound absurdity, which possesses all those copies. 
 
 " Come, lie thou in my arms : 
 
 " Here's to thy health, where- e'er thou tumblest in. 
 " O true apothecary ! " Tueob. 
 
 The hemistich, which Mr. Theobald pronounces to be of most profound 
 absurdity, may deserve a somewhat belter character; but being mispla- 
 ced, could not be connected with that part of that speech where he 
 found it ; yet, being introduced a few lines lower, seems to make very 
 good sense. 
 
 " Come bitter conduct ! come unsav'ry guide ! 
 " Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
 " The dashing rocks my sea- sick, weary bark ! 
 <f Here's to thy health, where'er thou tumblest in. 
 " Here's to my love ! O true apothecary ! 
 " Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die." 
 To tumble into port in a storm, I believe to be a sea-phrase, as is a turn' 
 Uing sea, and agrees with the allusion to the pilot or the tempest-beaten 
 bark. Here's success, says he (continuing the allusion) to thy vessel 
 wherever it tumbles in, or perhaps, to the pilot who is to conduct; or tumble 
 it in ; meaning, I wish it may succeed in ridding me of life, whatever may 
 betide me after it, or wherever it may carry me. He then drinks to the 
 memory of Juliet's love, adding (as he feels the poison work) a short 
 apostrophe to the apothecary, the efTott of whose drugs he can doubt no 
 
SCENE III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 219 
 
 longer ; and turning his thoughts back again to the object most beloved, 
 he dies (like Othello) on a kiss. Steev. 
 
 " And never from this palace of dim night." 
 It will readily be admitted that Mr. Steevens has made some 
 proper transpositions in the speech of Romeo. With regard to the 
 line, "Here's to thy health where'er thou tumblest in, " he has 
 entirely mistaken the sense. Part of the passage in dispute, how- 
 ever, is corrupt. "Where'er thou tumblest in" should certainly 
 be: " Wherein thou tumblest." All after " desperate pilot " is not 
 spoken by Romeo of that " pilot," but of " himself." I regulate 
 the whole as follows : 
 
 " Come, bitter conduct', come, unsavory guide \ 
 Thou desperate pilot, come ! The weary bark 
 Wherein thou, sea-sick, tumblest, now at once 
 Run on the dashing rocks ! Here's to thy health. 
 Which must be thus understood : — He first calls on his conductor : 
 then, struck with the reflection that his body is on the point of dis- 
 solution, he apostrophises, if I may so call it, his immortal part. 
 "Soul! sea-sick as thou now art, run thy vessel (thy body) at 
 once on the rocks;" immediately adding: " Here's to thy health," 
 by which he would say : " Here's to my soul's health ; may spiri- 
 tual salvation be mine ! " This, I hope, will be found an easy read- 
 ing, and a just interpretation, effected with no other change than 
 that of the order of the lines aud printing wherein for u'here'er. B. 
 
easure for jSKJeasture* 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Duke. Then no more remains, 
 
 But that your sufficiency, as your worth is able, 
 And let them work. 
 
 Then no more remains, 
 But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, 
 And let them work.] 
 To the integrity of this reading Mr. Theobald objects, and says ; " What 
 was Escalus to put to his sufficiency ? why, his science : But his science 
 and sufficiency were but one and the same thing. On what then does 
 the relative them depend ? " He will have it, therefore, that a line has 
 been accidentally dropp'd, which he attempts to restore by due diligency. 
 Nodum in scirpo quterit. And all for want of knowing, that by sufficiency 
 is meant authority, the power delegated by the Duke to Escalus. The 
 plain meaning of the word being this : " Put your skill in governing," 
 says the duke, " to the power which I give you to exercise it, and let 
 them work together." Warb. 
 
 " Then no more remains, 
 •' But that your sufficiency, as your worth is able, 
 " And let them work." 
 " Able worth " is not a very clear or happy expression : but 
 stable worth, i. e. worth that is fixed, permanent : worth that is 
 unchangeable, may be well admitted. The sense of the line, as it 
 now stands, is, in other respects, imperfect. I would, therefore, read : 
 
 " But that your sufficiency be, as your worth is stable." 
 " Sufficiency " is authority, power, as Warburton has well explained 
 it. " Be," is " actual exercise of that power : " " as " is not here 
 used for like, same kind with : but for since, because that. It 
 
SCENE I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 221 
 
 should be remembered, and in favor of the reading T propose, that 
 the Duke had not yet delegated his power to Escalus : he was just 
 about to do it, and therefore says : 
 
 " No more remains, 
 " But that your sufficiency be, as your worth is stable." 
 " It now only remains, — as your worth, your gooduess is fixed and 
 certain, as I have named you for ruler, — that yon have the actual 
 power; that you now exercise the princely authority with which I 
 have invested you." The Duke, a few lines after, gives him that 
 authority, saying : " There is our commission," &c. B. 
 
 — -"^b- — 
 Duke. There is a kind of character in thy life, 
 That, to the observer, doth thy history 
 Fully unfold. 
 
 There is a kind of character in thy life, 
 That to the observer, ccc. 
 Either this introduction has more solemnity than meaning, or it has * 
 meaning which I cannot discover. What is there peculiar in this, that 
 a man's life informs the observer of his history f Might it be supposed 
 that Shakspeare wrote this ? 
 
 " There is a kind of character in thy look." 
 History may be taken in a more diffuse and licentious meaning, for 
 future occurrences, or the part of life yet to come. If this sense be re- 
 ceived, the passage is clear and proper. John. 
 
 " There is a kind of character in thy life, 
 " That to the observer, doth thy history 
 " Fully unfold." 
 Johnson's objection to " his life," that unfolds " his history," 
 appears at first to be sufficiently valid : but when particularly ex- 
 amined, it falls to the ground. I consider " life," as spoken of the 
 outward, and " history " of the inivard man. The first will signify 
 manners, general conduct : the second may stand for disposition of 
 the soul, affections of the heart. For it should ever be borne in 
 mind, that actions alone, though possibly beneficial to a certain 
 extent, will not always determine for the existence of moral good- 
 ness. This may be instanced in the dissembler, the hypocrite: 
 one who may bring about a temporary and lesser good to others, 
 not only that a real evil may afterwards arise to them, but that a 
 greater advantage may, in consequence, be derived to himself. 
 
 But if the above distinction between life and history is not to 
 be admitted, we may read lefe (love.) " There is a character in 
 thy lefc " [thy love, thy loyalty] i.e. "There is such a marked 
 loyalty in thee, that a close observer may fully know thy " history," 
 or what thy conduct in office will be. While in private life, you 
 have at all times demeaned yourself with so much virtue and ability 
 that it is easy to foresee how )ou will ;.ct in future." B. 
 
 Duke. But I do bend my speech 
 
 To one that can my part in him advertise : 
 
222 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT I. 
 
 I do bend my speech, 
 To one that can my part in'him advertise. 
 This is obscure. The meaning is, I direct my speech to one who is able to 
 teach me how to govern : my part in him, signifying office, which I have 
 delegated to him. My part in him aivertise ; i.e. who knows what 
 appertains to the character of deputy or vk-eroy. Can 'advertise my part 
 in him; that is, his representation of my person. But all tSese quaint- 
 nesses of expression, the Oxford editor seems sw;;rn to extirpate ; that 
 is, to take away one of Shakspeare's characteristic marks ; which, if not 
 one of the comeliest, is yet one of the strongest. So he alters this to, 
 
 " To one that can, in my part, me advertise." 
 A better expression indeed, but, for all that, none of Shakspeare's. 
 Warb. 
 
 I know not whether we may not better read, 
 
 " One that can my part to him advertise," 
 One that can inform himself of that which it would be otherwise my part 
 to tell him. John. 
 
 " But I do bend my speech 
 " To one that can my part in him advertise." 
 Warburton's explanation comes nearest, I think, to the Poet's mean- 
 ing. •" Advertise," however, I here understand, according to its 
 common acceptation of set forth, display, or make known. A 
 trifling change in the order of the words will give somewhat more 
 of clearness to the expression : 
 
 " To one that can, in him, my part advettise." 
 f * In him " [in, or of himself] i.e. "one who can himself, or 
 by, or from his own ability, manifest, plainly show what belongs to 
 the character of Ruler ; what, in short, is the duty of a sovereign 
 prince. B. 
 
 Duke. Old Escalus, 
 
 Though first in question, is thy secondary. 
 Take thy commission. 
 
 First in question.] That is, first called for ; first appointed. John. 
 
 " Though first in question." I rather think that " first in ques- 
 tion," means one, who by his age or standing, is perhaps entitled 
 to be first, but whom he has yet named to the second place. B. 
 
 Duke. We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice 
 Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honors. 
 
 We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice.] Leaven'd has no sense 
 in this place : we should read, 
 
 levell'd choice. 
 
 The allusion is to archery, when a man is fixed upon his object, after 
 taking good aim. Warb. 
 
 No emendation is necessary. Leaven'd choice is one of Shakspeare's 
 harsh metaphors. His train of ideas seems to be this. I have proceeded 
 to you with choice mature, concocted, fermented, leavened. When bread 
 is leavened it is left to ferment : a leavened choice is therefore a choice 
 not hasty, but considerate, not declared as soon as it fell into the imagi- 
 nation, but suffered to work long in the mind. Thus explained, it suits 
 better with prepared than levelled. John. 
 
SCENE III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 223 
 
 " We have with a leavened and prepared choice." 
 It is most likely that the poet wrote levin d choice, i. e. confi- 
 dential, a choice confirmed by your worth. Levin in Chaucer, is 
 belief, confidence. B. 
 
 Claud. Thus can the demi-izod, authority, 
 Make us pay down for our offence by weight. — 
 The words of heaven ; — on whom it will, it will ; 
 On whom it will not, ?o ; yet still 'tis just. 
 
 Thus cun the demi-god, authority, 
 Make us pay down, for our offence, by weight. — 
 The words of' heaven ; — on whom it will, it will ; 
 On whom it will not, so : yet Still 'tis just. 
 The wrong pointing ot the. second line hath made the passage unintelli- 
 gible. There ought to be a full stop at weight. And the sense of the 
 whole is this : "The demi-god, Authority, makes us pay the full penalty 
 of our offence, and its decrees are as little to be questioned as the words 
 of heaven, which pronounces its pleasure thus, — I punish and remit pu- 
 nishment according to my own uncontroulable will; and yet who can 
 say what dost thou ? " " Make us pay down for our offence, by weight," 
 is a fine expression to signify paying the full penalty. The metaphor is 
 taken from paying money by weight, which is always exact ; not so by 
 tale, on account of the practice of diminishing the specie. Warb. 
 I suspect that a line is lost. John. 
 It may be read, the sword of heaven. 
 
 Thus can the demi-god authority, 
 Make us pay down for our offeme, by weight — 
 The sword of heaven : — on whom, &cc. 
 Authority is then poetically called the sword of heaven, which will spare 
 or punish as it is commanded. The alteration is slight, being made only 
 by taking a single letter from the end of the word, and placing it at the 
 beginning. 
 
 This very ingenious and elegant emendation was suggested to'me by 
 the Rev. Dr. Roberts, of Eton ; and it may be countenanced hy the fol- 
 lowing passage in the Cobler's trophecy, 1594 : 
 
 " — in brief they are the swords of heaven to punish." Mal. 
 " The words of Heaven." There is no occasion for altering the 
 text to sword of Heaven. By such alteration the passage becomes 
 broken and disjointed; while much of its force is lost. We must 
 read: "The word's of Heaven," (in reference to authority.) The 
 omission of the word of the genitive, or rather possessive case, singu- 
 lar, in the printed copy, has made the whole appear obscure. 
 Claudio had said: "The demigod authority can make us pay 
 down for our offence by weight." He pauses, and then goes on : 
 " The word's of Heaven," i. e. authority belongs to, or proceeds 
 from Heaven : therefore all its actions, (those of authority) must 
 be just." By admitting into the text, the " word's of Heaven," the 
 reasoning will become clear and consequential : which, as 1 have 
 already observed (the present reading words, pi. being out of the 
 question) would be by no means the case in printing sword. It 
 should be remembered too, that princes who have authority or rule. 
 
224 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT I, 
 
 are styled heaven's vicegerents, the delegates of heaven, &c. 
 Thus in the language of Scripture : " There is no power but of 
 God. The powers thai he are ordained of God. Whosoever, there- 
 fore, resisttth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God, and they 
 that resist shall receive to themselves damnation." B. 
 
 Claud. Whether it be the fault and glimpse of new- 
 ness. 
 
 The fault and glimpse of newness.'] Fault and glimpse have so little 
 relation to each other, that both can scarcely be right : we may read 
 fiash for fault : or, perhaps we may read, 
 
 Whether it be the fault or glimpse 
 
 That is, whether it be the seeming enormity of the action, or the glare 
 of new authority. Yet the same sense follows in the next lines. John. 
 
 " The fault and glimpse of newness." "Fault" should, no 
 doubt, be faust (faustus Lat.) His happy situation, his fortunate 
 state. " Glimpse of newness," will mean, the consequence just 
 beaming on him, &c. B. 
 
 Claud. In her youth 
 
 There is a prone and speechless dialect, 
 Such as moves men. 
 
 — prone and speechless dialect. 
 I can scarcely tell what signification to give to the word prone. Its 
 primitive and translated senses are well known. The author may, by a 
 prone dialect, mean a dialect which men are prone to regard, or a dialect, 
 natural and unforced, as those actions seem to which we are prone, 
 Either of these interpretations are sufficiently strained ; but such distor- 
 tion of words is not uncommon in our author. For the sake of an 
 easier sense, we may read : 
 
 In her youth 
 
 There is a pow'r, and speechless dialect, 
 
 Such as moves men. 
 Or thus : 
 
 There is a prompt and speechless dialect. John. 
 Prone, is used here for prompt. So, in our author's Rape of Lu- 
 crece, 1594. 
 
 O that prone lust should stain so pure a bed ! Mal. 
 
 " Prone and speechless dialect." 
 " Prone " is very unmeaning. The Poet must have written 
 prone, an old French word, and which signifies " in a sufficient 
 measure, sufficiently powerful," — the particular sense required 
 here. Prone, in the Rape of Lucrece, as instanced by Mr. M. 
 has certainly not the meaning of prompt ; but that of poor, mean, 
 grovelling. The Epithet is highly characteristic of lust. B. 
 
 Duke. I have delivered to Lord Angelo 
 (A man of stricture and firm abstinence) 
 My absolute power and place here in Vienna. 
 
ACT II. SC. II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. . 225 
 
 A man of stricture and firm abstinence.] Stricture makes no sense iu 
 this place. We should read, 
 
 A man of strict ure and firm abstinence. 
 i. e. a man of the exactest conduct, and practised in the subdual of his 
 passions. Ure an old word for use, practice : so enta-'d, habituated to. 
 Ward. 
 
 Stricture may easily be used for strictness i ure is indeed an old word, 
 but I think, always applied to things, never to persons. John. 
 
 " A man of stricture." "Stricture" is the proper word; but 
 Johnson is wholly unconscious of its force : strictness is, iudeed, 
 implied in the word ; but stricture goes to a great deal more. 
 Stricture is touch, and Shakspeare applies it personally. "A man 
 of stricture ; " i. e. a man of touch ; a tried man. This is con- 
 formable to all that he had before spoken of Angelo. The poet in 
 another place writes : 
 
 " Now my sweet wife, and you my friends of touch." B. 
 
 Luc. And with full line of his authority, 
 Governs Lord Angelo ; a man whose blood 
 Is very snow-broth ; 
 
 With full line.] With full extent, with the whole length'. John. 
 
 " With full line." This is somewhat in Mr. S.'s style of annota- 
 tion. See other notes of Johnson of the like kind (passim) and 
 which are not only wholly unworthy of him, but an insult to the 
 reader's understanding. B. 
 
 Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd. 
 
 A tapster, sir ; parcel bawd.] This wc should now express by sayiag, 
 kt M half-tapster, half-bawd. John. 
 
 Thus in K. Hen. IV. : " — a parcel-gilt goblet." Steev. 
 
 " Parcel bawd." This should be pareil, contracted of pareille- 
 ment, fir. likewise. He is a tapster, Sir : also a bawd. B. 
 
 Isab. O, but man ! proud man, 
 
 (Drest in a little brief authority ; 
 Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, 
 His glassy essence) like an angry ape, 
 Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, 
 As make the angels weep ; who, with our -spleens, 
 Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
 
 " O, but man, proud man, 
 
 " Drest in a little brief authority ; 
 
 " (Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, 
 
 " His glassy essence) like an angry ape," &c. 
 This passage 
 
 " Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, 
 
 " His glassy esbence," 
 I do not well understand. 1 would change the order of the lines, 
 
 Shak. I. P 
 
226 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT II. 
 
 and make a slight alteration in the expression ; pointing the whole 
 in such a manner as to give a totally different sense to that of the 
 text: 
 
 " O, but. man, proud man, 
 
 " Of what he is most ignorant. Most assur'd, 
 
 " Drest in a little brief authority, — 
 
 " (His glassy essence) angry, like an ape 
 
 " Plays surh fantastic tricks." 
 Which may be interpreted as follows : 
 
 " Man is proud and ignorant: ignorant even of what he is, his 
 very nature: yet from being vested with a little authority, a perish- 
 able authority, [his glassy essence] he assumes a consequence no 
 way pertaining to his earthly station, and thus offends the heavenly 
 powers," Arc. The construction is not that — Man (and simply 
 considered) is like an angry ape ; but that being angry, he 
 ■plays tricks like an ape. B. 
 
 alio with our spleens, 
 
 Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
 Mr. Theobald says the meaning of this is, " that if they were endowed 
 with our 'jpleens and perishable organ?, they would laugh themselves out 
 of immortality : " which amounts to tins : that if they wfire mortal, 
 they would not be immortal. Shakspeare meant no such nonsense. By 
 spleens, he meant that peculiar turn ol the human mind, that always in- 
 clines it to a spiteful, unseasonalle mirth. Had the angels that, says 
 Shakspeare, they would laugh themselves out of their immortality, by 
 indulging a passion which does not deserve that prerogative. 1 he an- 
 cients thought, that immoderate laughter was caused by the bigness of 
 the spleen. Wakb. 
 
 " Who with our spleens," &c. The lines might be read as 
 follows : 
 
 " who with our spleens . 
 
 " All mortal, — would laugh themselves. B. 
 
 Aug. She speaks, and 'tis 
 Such sense, that in} 7 sense breeds with it. 
 
 That my sense breeds with it.] Thus all the folios. Some later editor 
 has changed breeds to bleeds, and Dr. Warburton blames poor Mr. Theo- 
 bald for recalling the old word which ,\ et is certainly right. My sense breeds 
 with her sense, that is, new thoughts are stirring in my mind, new con- 
 ceptions are hatched in my imagination. So we say to brood over 
 thought. John. 
 
 " My sense breeds with it." This conveys a very imperfect, 
 and when explained by Johnson, a forced kind of meaning. I 
 would read : 
 
 " She speaks, and 'tis 
 " Such sense, that my sense brees with it." 
 i. e. She speaks so well, so forcibly, that my sense becomes alarmed 
 at it. The consciousness of mine own imperfection startles me. 
 To bree, is with our earlier writers,- to alarm, to frighten, B. 
 
 Ang. My gravity 
 
ACT III. S>C. I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 227 
 
 Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, 
 Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume 
 Which the air beats for vain. 
 
 Change for an idle plume. 
 
 Winch the air bents for vain. Oh phice ! c\c. 
 There is, I believe, no instance in ShaJfspeare or any other author, of 
 " for vain" being used fur "in vain." Besides; has the air or wind 
 less effect on a feather than on twenty other things? or rather is not the 
 reverse of this the truth? An idle plum* assuredly is nor that "ever- 
 fixed mark," of which our author speaks elsewhere, " that looks on 
 tempests, and is never-shaken." The old copy has mine, in which way 
 a rane (>r weather-i i ck vy is formerly .-pelt. [See Minsfiieu's Dict. 1617, 
 in verb.—^o also, in Love's Labor Lost. Act IV. Sc. 1. edit. 1(323. " What 
 rainef what weathercock ?'' J I would therefore read vane. — I would 
 exchange my gravity, says Apgelo, for an idle feather, which being 
 driven along by the wind serves, to the spectator, for a vane or weather- 
 cock. So, in The Winter's Tale: 
 
 " I am a feather lor each wind that blows." Mal. 
 
 " Change for an idle plume, 
 " Which the air beats for vain." 
 Mr. .Malone's reading is harsh. Besides a plume is never set up for 
 a vane 'or weathercock. The truth is, that there is not the smallest 
 necessity for change. Vain is vanity, .show. An adjective for a 
 substantive ; a licence common with Shakspeare. The sense of the 
 passage is — that to accomplish his desires he would lay down his 
 gravity which he takes a pride in, for idle show which he detests. 
 This show he characterises by a feather gaily fluttering in the wind. 
 U. 
 
 I.sab. Yet hath he in him such a mind of honor. 
 
 Such a mind of honor."] This in Shakspeare's language, may mean, 
 such an honorabli maid, as he uses elsewhere mind of love, for loving 
 mind. StEEV. 
 
 " Such a mind of honor." " This in Shakspeare's language," &o. 
 A very notable remark ! what should mind of honor mean, but an 
 honorable mind? and why must the editor sneer at Shakspeare's 
 language ? B. 
 
 Duke. A breath thou art, 
 
 Servile to all the skiey influences 
 That do this habitation, where thou keep'st, 
 Hourly afflict. 
 
 That do this habitation.] This reading is substituted by Sir Thomas 
 Ilanmer, for 
 
 That dost John. 
 
 " A breath thou art," &c. Mr. Porson is wrong in saying that 
 the construction is, " a breath thou art that dost," &c. it is very 
 clearly : " skiey influences that do." But it should first be ob- 
 served, without attending to this particular, that the expression in 
 
£28 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III. 
 
 Shakspeare is radically bad ; inasmuch as habitation is said to be af- 
 flicted (for so it will be in reading either do or dost) and by conse- 
 quence is made to stand for life: for afflicted, we must remember, 
 cannot be spoken of an inanimate thing. Let us attend then to the 
 reasoning of the Duke, as exhibited by Mr. Porson. " Life, thou 
 art a breath servile to all the skiey influences, and thou dost afflict 
 life." Thus it is seen that the expression, as I before observed, is 
 vicious ; nor will any thing be gained to the sense of the passage 
 by reading 'do. Such being the case — how, it will be' asked, is the 
 evil to be remedied ? Why, by substituting assail in the place of 
 afflict : while habitation must be understood as speaking of the 
 body ; which is simply material ; as a lodging for the informing 
 part. The passage should be read and pointed thus : 
 
 Life, thou art a breath 
 Servile to all the skiey influences 
 That do this habitation, where thou keep'st, 
 Hourly assail. 
 The incorrectness of this sentence does not appear to have arisen 
 from the carelessness of the transcriber : the fault is in the poet 
 himself: and has been entirely unheeded by his several editors. B. 
 
 Claud. Thou art by no means valiant ; 
 
 For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
 Of a poor worm. 
 
 - •■ the soft and tender fork 
 
 Of a poor worm : 
 Worm is put for any creeping thing or serpent. Shakspeare supposes 
 falsely, but according to the vulgar notion, that a serpent wounds with 
 his tongue, and that his tongue is forked. He confounds reality and 
 fiction, a serpent's tongue is soft but not Jorked, nor hurtful. If it could 
 hurt, it could not be soft. In the Midsummer Night's Dream he has th« 
 same notion. 
 
 — With doubler tongue 
 
 " Than thine, O serpent, never adder slung." John. 
 Shakspeare could never suppose that a serpent wounds with his 
 tongue, or he would not have said, the " soft and tender fork." 
 He insinuates that the tongue of the serpent is exactly the reverse of 
 hurtful ; but that men are apt to be frightened by appearance, or 
 alarmed from vulgar prejudice. " Fork" is not forked, but used 
 simply for tongue. B. 
 
 Claud. Thy best of rest is sleep, 
 
 And that thou oft provok'st ; yet grossly fear'st 
 Thy death, which is no more. 
 
 — ~~Thy best of rest is sleep, 
 And that thou oftprovok'st ; yet grossly fear'st 
 Thy death, which is no more. 
 Evidently from the following passage of Cicero : " Habes somnumimagi- 
 nem mortis, eamque quotidie induis, et dubitas quin sensus in morte nullus sit 
 cum in ejus simulacro videos esse nullum sensum" But the Epicurean insi- 
 
SCENE I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 229 
 
 nuation is, with great judgment, omitted in the imitation. Warb. 
 
 Here Dr. Warburton might have found a sentiment worthy of his ani- 
 madversion. I cannot without indignation find Shakspeare saving, that 
 death is only sleep, lengthening out his exhortation by a sentence which 
 in the friar is impious, in the reasoner is foolish, and in the poet trite an J 
 vulgar. John. 
 
 4 Thy best of rest is sleep/ &c. Dr. Johnson's piety and his 
 religious faith has taken the alarm, and made him severe in his ani- 
 madversion, where there is not even the shadow of a cause. When 
 the Friar says — Death is only sleep, his position goes to nothing 
 further than that in death every thing in respect of this world is 
 forgotten or lost as it is in sleep. That nothing impious was intended 
 by the Poet himself, or to he put into the mouth of the friar, and 
 that the expression is interpreted properly even by Claudio, ihe ac- 
 knowledgment of that very Claudio to the man who had undertaken 
 to admonish and prepare hi in for his passage to eternity, will suffi- 
 ciently show : 
 
 " I humbly thank you, 
 To sue to live, I find I seek to die : 
 And seeking death, find life." B. 
 
 Claud. All thy blessed youth 
 
 Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
 Of palsied eld. 
 
 —for all thy blessed youth 
 Becomes as aged, unci doth beg the alms 
 Of palsied eld ; and when thou'rt old and rich, 
 Thou hast neither heal, Sec. 
 The drift of this period is to prove, that neither youth nor age can be said 
 to be really enjoyed, which, in poetical language, is, — He hare neither 
 youth nor age. But how is this made out? That age is not enjoyed he 
 proves, by recapitulating the infirmities of it, which deprive that period 
 of life of all sense' of pleasure. To prove that youth is not enjoyed, he 
 uses these words, 
 
 -for all thy blessed youth 
 
 Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
 
 Of palsied eld ; 
 Out of which, he that can deduce the conclusion, has a better knack at 
 logic than I have. I suppose the poet wrote, 
 
 — For pal I'd, thy blazed youth 
 
 Becomes assuaged ; and doth beg the alms 
 
 Of palsied eld ; 
 j. e. when thy youthful appetite becomes palled, as it will be in the very 
 enjoyment, the blaze of youth is at once assuaged, and thou immediately 
 contractest the infirmities of old age; as particularly the palsy and other 
 nervous disorders, consequent on the inordinate use of sensual pleasures. 
 This is to the purpose ; and proves youth is not enjoyed, by showing the 
 short duration of it. Warb. 
 
 Here again I think Dr. Warburton totally mistaken. Shakspeare de- 
 clares that man lias neither youth nor age ; for in youth, which is the 
 happiest time, or which might he the happiest, he commonly wants means, 
 to obtain what he could enjoy; he is dependent on palsied eld : must beg 
 alms from the coffers of hoary avarice; and being very niggardly supplied, 
 becomes as aged, looks, like an old man, on happiness which is beyond 
 
230 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III. 
 
 his reach. And, when he is old amd rich, when he has wealth enough 
 for the purchase of all that formerly excited his desires, he lias no longer 
 the powers of enjoyment; 
 
 — Has neither Aral, affectum, limb, ??&>/• beauty, 
 
 To make his riches pleasant. , . 
 
 I have explained this passage according to the present reading, which 
 may stand without much inconvenience, yet I am willing to persuade 
 my reader, because I have . almost persuaded myself, that our author 
 Wrote, 
 
 — for all thy blasted youth 
 
 Bccow es a s aged. — .T<jtix . 
 ' All thy blessed youth,' &c. The reading proposed by Warbur- 
 ton is much too wide from that of the text, a;id a forced explana- 
 tion of the passage necessarily results from it. ' As aged,' is certainly 
 wrong: nor is any kind of consequence deducible from the lines as 
 they at present stand. I would therefore read ' assieged' (assieger 
 f r ) i. e. besieged, beset, slssitgid, and as aged are so nearly alike 
 in sound that they might easily be mistaken by the reader or tran- 
 scriber for the press. The meaning will be — Thy happy youth, 
 or rather thy youth which should or might be happy — is laid siege 
 to ; is beset [Gout, Serpigo, and Rheum, must here be understood 
 as alluded to, and which, had been -ti: down in the immediately pre- 
 ceding line] so hard beset, that thou art perhaps compelled to ask 
 support even from decrepitude, from palsied age. B. 
 
 Claud. The princely Angelo ? 
 
 Isab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, 
 The damned 'st body to invest and cover 
 In princely guards ! 
 
 The princely Angela? = 
 
 — princely guards ! 
 
 The stupid editors, mistaking guards for'satellites (whereas it here signi- 
 fies lace,) altered priestly, in both places, to princely. Whereas Sbak- 
 speare wrote it priestly, as appears from the words themselves, 
 
 'Ti.-i the cunning iivery of hell, 
 
 The damned'ft body to invent and cover 
 
 With priestly guards. 
 In the first place we see that guards here signifies lace, as referring to 
 livery, and as having no sense in the sirnitication of satellites. I\ow 
 priestly guards means sanctity, which is the sense required. Hut primely 
 guards means nothing but rich lace, which is a sense the passage will not 
 bear. Angelo, indeed, as deputy, might be called the princely Angelo : 
 but not in this place, where the immediately preceding words of, 
 
 This outward-sainted deputy, 
 demand the reading I have here restored. Warb. 
 
 The first folio has, in boch places, prenzie, from which the other folks 
 made princely, and every editor may make what he can. John. 
 
 Princely guards mean no more than the ornaments of royalty, which 
 Angelo is supposed to assume during the absence of the duke. The stu- 
 pidity of the hrst editors is sometimes not n ore niurious to Shakspeare, 
 than the ingenuity of those who succeeded them. Si eev. 
 
 ' With priestly guards.' The ingenuity here spoken of by Mr. S. 
 is sufficiently exemplified in himself. 
 
SCENE I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 231 
 
 ' Prenzie' I think should be Preenzie, i. e: Trim. 
 The meaning appears to be two-fold, trim ornaments, and trim 
 'authority. 
 
 Preenzie is formed by the same analogy as Trieksie : which latter 
 won! is found in the tempest. With respect to the former, it must 
 be rem irked that to Preen a hawk is to trim it. Shakspoare fre- 
 quently borrows his expressions from the Falconer; and as the first 
 folio which has prenzie, is generally pretty correct, the reading above 
 suggested will probably be admitted as right. B. 
 
 Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; 
 To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; 
 This .sensible warm motion to become 
 A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
 To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
 In thrilling region of thiek-ribbed ice ; 
 
 " Aye, but to die, and go we know not where : 
 " To lie in cold obstruction, and fo rot, iNjc." 
 
 This is false philosophy, since in manifesting a dread of coldness 
 it gives, or supposes a power of perception, of feeling to dead, to 
 exanimate matter. But we are to remember that it is the philosophy 
 ofClaudio, and not of Shakspoare ; and that it has its source in 
 weakness, in his terrors at the thought of death. It is reported oi 
 Dr. Johnson, that fearing his dissolution, he has been often heard re- 
 peating the above lines in a state of the deepest melancholy. 
 Strange! that he who had distinguished himself by his moral and 
 philosophical discourses, should have shown so great infirmity. 
 Johnson appears, from very many circumstances, to have been pos- 
 sessed of true piety : and such a man we might rather expect to find 
 resigned in every thing to the will of heaven. His supplications, 
 his ejaculating addresses to the deity are worthy of the christian 
 character. How strange then is it, I repeat, to exhibit timidity at 
 the prospect of an event which n©ne but the wicked can have to 
 fear? Much sooner might we have thought to hear from his lips 
 that he was " content to live, but not afraid to die." This, indeed, 
 were true philosophy, that religions philosophy which fits us as Weil 
 for this world as for the next. B. 
 
 — delighted spirit i. e. the spirit accustomed here to ease anddolights. 
 This was properly urged as an aggravation to the sharpness of the tor- 
 ments spoken of. The Oxford editor not apprehending this, alters it to 
 dilated. As if, because the spirit in the body is said to be imprisoned, it 
 was crou-ded together likewise; and so by death not only set free, but 
 expanded too; which, if true, would make it the less sensible of pain. 
 
 W A KB. 
 
 This reading may perhaps stand, but many attempts have been made 
 to correct it. The most plausible is that which substitutes, 
 
 the benighted spirit. 
 
 alluding to the darkness always supposed in the place of future punish* 
 ment. 
 
MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT HI. 
 
 Perhaps we may read, 
 
 the delinquent spirit, 
 
 a word easily changed to delighted by a bad copier, or unskilful reader. 
 Delinquent is proposed by Thirlby in his manuscript. Johit. 
 
 ' Delighted spirit.' Delighted has here no sense. I read — the 
 * belighted spirit,' i. e. the illumined spirit, — that spirit which 
 escaped from its crib and confine in the body, as the Poet elsewhere 
 expresses it, is supposed to become enlightened ; exquisitely sensi- 
 ble of good and ill: and hence its dread of future punishment for 
 any transgression here. The following passage from Seneca may 
 be brought in support of this reading : " We shall then" (at our 
 death) '* discover the secrets of nature : the darkness shall be dis- 
 cussed, and our souls irradiated with light." 
 
 We read in the bock of Job, — " Lo all these things worketh God 
 oftentimes' with man, to bring back his soul from the pit, to be en- 
 lightened with the light of the living." It would seem from this pas- 
 sage (and which no Biblical Expositor has attempted to controvert) 
 that a second and perhaps a third earthly existence was given to man, 
 while it strengthens the notion entertained by Pythagoras of the me- 
 tempsychosis: — for enlightened ivith the light of the living, I 
 understand to be spoken of those who had passed to the skies, those 
 who had received the light of heavtn, and whose spirit was returned 
 to inform a mortal body : since such expression, as it is particular, 
 could only apply to particular persons. Josephus informs us " the 
 Pharisees were persuaded that men's souls have an immortal pro- 
 perty in them ; and that there are both punishments and rewards for 
 such as have lived either virtuously or viciously upon earth ; and 
 that the latter undergo everlasting confinement, while the former 
 have liberty to come back again to life." This reviviscency or new 
 being, the Greek Philosophers and others who likewise believed in 
 it have termed an anabiosis ; Servius says in his remarks on the sixth 
 jEneid of Virgil, that this privilege (as is gathered from the poet) the 
 wicked obtained the soonest, an opinion wholly different from that of 
 the Jews. B. 
 
 Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. 
 
 His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir.] That is, his neck will be 
 tied, like your waist, with a rope. The friars of the Franciscan order, 
 perhaps of all others, wear a hempen cord for a girdle. John. 
 
 " A cord, Sir." A play on a cord, and accord seems to be in- 
 tended here. Elbow would say : " there is agreement, there is 
 conformity, Sir." B. 
 
 Duke. Which I, by my good leisure, have discredit- 
 ed to him, and now is he resolved to die. 
 
 " Resolved." Resolved seems here to have the sense of resolu- 
 tion, firmness: " that he can die with fortitude." B. 
 
 1 In Hebrew it is thrice. 
 
ACT IV. SC. II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 233 
 
 Duke. He, who the sword of heaven will bear, 
 Should be as holy as severe ; 
 Pattern in himself to know, 
 Grace to stand, and virtue go. 
 
 Pattern in himself to know, 
 Grace to stand, and virtue go. 
 These lines I cannot understand, but believe that thc\ should be read 
 thus : 
 
 Patterning himself to know, 
 In grace to stand, in virtue 20. 
 To "pattern" is " to work alter a pattern," and, perhaps, in Shakspeare's 
 licentious diction, simply to " work." The sense is : " he that hears the 
 sword of heaven should lie holy as well as severe j one that after good 
 examples labors to know himself, to live with innocence, ancj to act with 
 virtue." John. 
 
 By a slight alteration this passage will be rendered sufficiently 
 clear, and even acquire some degree of elegance. I read, 
 " He, who the sword of heaven will bear, 
 " Should be as holy as severe : 
 " Pattern in himself, to show 
 '* Grace and virtue. Stand or go." 
 " Stand or go " will mean, that he may make a pause, when as- 
 sailed by vice, or press onward, when solicited by virtue. B. 
 
 Duke. To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin ; 
 Sith that the justice of your title to him 
 Doth flourish the deceit. 
 
 Doth flourish the deceit.] A metaphor taken from embroidery, where 
 a coarse ground is filled up, and covered with figures of rich materials 
 and elegant workmanship. Ware. 
 
 Flourish is an ornament in general. So in another play of Shakspeare: 
 " — empty trunks »' ' er-jtouristi 'd by the devil." Steev. 
 
 " Flourish the deceit." The editors have mistaken the meaniug 
 of flourish, in this place. It is here used for— make prosper, 
 make successful. B. 
 
 Duke. How now ? what noise ? that spirit's possess'd 
 with haste, 
 That wounds the unresisting postern with these strokes. 
 
 That spirit's possest with haste, 
 
 That wounds the unresisting postern with these strokes. 
 The line is irregular, and the unresisting postern so strange an expression, 
 that want of measure, and want of sense, might justly raise suspicion 
 of an error; yet none of the latter editors seem to have supposed the 
 place faulty, except Sir Tho. Hafimer, who reads : 
 
 — the unresting postern, 
 The three folios have it : 
 
 — unsisting post.,- 
 
531 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT IV. 
 
 out of which Mr. Rowe made 7irresi*ting. and the rest followed him. 
 Sir Thomas Hanmer seems to have supposed unresisting the word in the 
 copies, from which he plausibly enough extracted unresting, but he 
 grounded his emendation on the very syllable that wants authority. 
 What ran be made of uniisUng I know not; the best that occurs to me 
 is unfeeling. Joh±n. 
 
 '* The unresisting postern." The reading of the folios (unsisting)' 
 is so near to the true one, that to miss the sense of the passage 
 seems wonderful. We must change resisting into insisting; apply- 
 ing it, however, not to postern, but to strokes. Read 
 
 " — that spirit's possess'd with haste, 
 
 " That wounds the postern with these insisting strokes." 
 i. e. Strokes on the postern made by some person, who, if we may 
 judge from the rapidity of them, insists, as it were, on entrance. B. 
 
 Ang. This deed unshapes me quite, makes me un- 
 pregnant, . 
 And dull to all proceedings. 
 
 Makes me unpregnant.] In the 6rst scene the Duse says that Esralvs 
 is pregnant, i. e. ready, in the forms of law. Unpregnant therefore, in 
 this instance before us, is unready, unprepared. Steev. 
 
 "Makes me unpregnant." Unpregnant in this place has so very wide, 
 so very large a signification that it can only he interpreted by a periphra- 
 sis. It means that " when he ought to have, by reason of his situation, 
 a proper conception of what might be most conducive to the pub- 
 lic good, he felt himself, as it were, without ideas, barren of pro- 
 ject, unfurnished of state device." B. 
 
 Ang. How might she tongue me ? Yet reason dares 
 her ? no : 
 For my authority bears a credent bulk, 
 That no particular scandal once can touch, 
 But it confounds the breather. 
 
 Yet reason dares her ? no : ] The old folio impressions read: ' 
 
 " Yet reason dares her Mo." 
 And this is right. The meaning is, the circumstances of our case are 
 such, that she will never venture to contradict me: dares her to reply Xo 
 to me, whatever I say. Wa'rb. 
 Mr. Theobald reads : 
 
 " Yet reason dares her yiote." 
 Sir Thomas Hanmer : 
 
 " Yet reason dares her : No." 
 Mr. Upton : 
 
 " Yet reason dares her — No," 
 whkh he explains thus : " Were it not for her maiden modesty, how 
 might the lady proclaim my guilt? Yet (you'll say) she has reason on 
 her side, and that will make her dare to do it. I think not ; for my 
 
ACT V. SC. I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 235 
 
 authority is of such weight," &c. I am afraid dare has no such signi- 
 fication. I have nothing to offer worth insertion. John. 
 
 "Dares her no," &g. This "no" has puzzled the Editors. 
 The right reading i 3 assuredly on. 
 
 * Yet reason dares her on." 
 How juighf she tongue me ? Yet [what have I to fear ?] reason will 
 challenge her : and she will not have courage to proceed. She 
 must know from mi/ general character, that any charge against 
 me would full to the ground. In other of Shakspeare's plays we 
 find — " Now let us on " — " Straight will we on " — for " Now we 
 will proceed, or go forward." B. 
 
 hah. I would say the truth ; but to accuse him so, 
 That is your part : yet Tin advisd to do it ; 
 
 He says, to vail lull purpose. 
 
 He says to rail full purpose.] Mr. Theobald alters it to, 
 He says, t' avail fu I purpose; 
 because he has no idea of the common reading. A good reason ! Yet 
 the common reading is right. Full is used fur beneficial ; and the mean- 
 ing is, " lie says, it is to hide a benciicial purpose, that must not yet be 
 revealed." Ward. 
 
 To vuil full purpose, may, with very little force on the words, mean, 
 to hide the whole extent of our design, and therefore the reading may 
 stand ; yet I cannot but think Air. Theobald's alteration either lucky or 
 ingenious. To interpret words with such laxity, as to make full the 
 •■ame with beneficial, is to put an end, at once, to all necessity of emen- 
 dation, for any word may then stand in the place of another. John. 
 
 " To vail full purpose." The objection of Johnson, is nothing 
 but cavil. " Full" is complete, and complete is perfect: and what 
 is perfect may well be termed good : and what is good must ne- 
 cessarily (in a moral sense) he beneficial to all men. " He says it 
 is to hide a perfected — a good, and consequently a henejiciai 'pur- 
 pose." Is it possible that any thing should he clearer? B. 
 
 Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy ; 
 Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler, 
 As he's reported by this gentleman. 
 
 Nor a temporary medler.] It is hard to know what is meant by a 
 temporary medler. In its usual sense, as opposed to perpetual, it cannot 
 be used here. It may stand for temporal : the sense will then be, " I 
 know him for a holy man, one that meddles not with secular affairs.'' 
 1 1 may mean temporising : "I know him to be a holy man, one who 
 would not temporise, or take the opportunity ox }our absence to delaine 
 you." Or we may read : 
 
 Not scurvy, nor a tamperer and medler : 
 not one who would have tampered with this woman to make her a false 
 evidence against your deputy. John. 
 
 "Nor a temporary medler." ' A temporary medler ' seems to 
 mean one who meddles in every affair, however remote or foreign 
 
236 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT V. 
 
 to his situation in life, a person who runs with eagerness from one 
 situation to another, though he ought not to have any concern in it: 
 one, in short, whom we call a busy body. B. 
 
 Peter. I do perceive, 
 
 These poor informal women are no more 
 But instruments of some more mightier member, 
 That sets them on. 
 
 These poor informal women. Informal signifies out of their sense? 
 In the Comedy of Errors, we meet with these line* a 
 " — I will not let him stir, 
 " Till I have used the approved means I have, 
 " With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, 
 " To make of him a formal man again." 
 Formal, in this passage, evidently signifies in his senses. The lines are 
 spoken of Antiphohs of Syracuse, who is behaving like a madman. 
 Agair., in Antony and Cleopatra : 
 
 * Thou shouldst come like a fury crown'd with snakes, 
 " Not like a formal man." Steev. 
 " Informal woman/' " Informal " means informing against, 
 accusing. Informal can scarcely have the sense which Mr. Steev- 
 ens has affixed to it, in either instance. Here it certainly cannot : 
 for Angelo would hardly talk of his pat ience being touch'd by mad 
 women ; or of their being (as such) the instruments employed 
 against him. In the passages from the Comedy of Errors, and 
 Antony and Cleopatra, "formal man" is a proper, perfect man. 
 B. 
 
 Ang. O my dread lord, 
 I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, 
 To think I can be undiscernible, 
 When I perceive, your grace, like power divine, 
 Hath look'd upon my passes. 
 
 My passes.] i.e. what has past in my administration. Steev. 
 " My passes." " Passes " for trespasses, crimes. B. 
 
 Duke. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well : 
 Look that you love your wife. 
 
 Your evil quits you uell.] Quits you, recompenses, requites you. John. 
 *' Quits you well." ' Quits' seems here to have its ordinary mean- 
 ing, leaves. Your evil leaves you, and you are unhurt. B. 
 
 Duke. Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal 
 Remit thy other forfeits ! 
 
 Thy otker forfeits.] Thy other punishments. John. 
 
SCENE I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 237 
 
 To forfeit anciently signified to commit a carnal offence. So in the 
 History of Helyas Knight of the Swanne, bl. 1. no date. — " — to affirme 
 by an untrue knight, that the noble queen Beatrice had forfayted with a 
 dogs;e." Again, in the 12th Pageant of the Coventry Collection of Mys- 
 teries, the Virgin Mary tells Joseph : 
 
 " I dede nevyr forfcte with man I wys." 
 MS. Cott. Vesp. D. viii. Stkev. 
 
 " Forfeits." Forfeit is the French forfait, which signifies trans- 
 gression, crime. B. 
 
£Puc!) aDo about iI?otl)ing, 
 
 ACT I. SCENE L 
 
 Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and chal- 
 lenged Cupid at the flight ; and my uncle's tool reading 
 the challenge subscribe! for Cupid, and challenged him 
 at the bird-bolt. 
 
 — challenged Cupid at thefight.1 To challenge at the fight, was a chal- 
 lenge to shoot with an arrow. Flight means an arrow, as may be proved 
 from the following lines in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bouduca : 
 
 " not the quick rack swiftei i 
 
 " The virgin from the hated ravisher 
 
 " Not half so fearful: not a flight druzen home, 
 
 " A round stone J 'rom a sling." 
 The bird-bolt is a 'hori thick arrow without point, and spreading at the 
 extremity so much, as to leave a flat surface, about the breadth of a shil- 
 ling. Such are to this day in use to kill rooks with, and are shot from a. 
 cross bow. So in Marston's What You Will, 1607 ; 
 
 " ignorance should shoot 
 
 " His gross-knc.bb'd hird-kdt.'"' Stekv. 
 
 ' Challenged Cupid at the flight,' etc. The Commentators am 
 right in respect to flight and bolt ; both which may be understood to 
 be spoken of the arrow. But there is a remote, a latent meaning in 
 the expressions of Beatrice undiscovered by them ; together with a 
 kind of quibble on the words in question : and if the whole be not ex- 
 pounded clearly, much of the pleasantry and even force of the passage 
 will be lost : for in it ' flight' is not only an arrow, but a sally of the 
 fancy, and ' bolt' as it has the signification of ' flight' in the first 
 instance, so it has likewise something resembling it in the second ; 
 since to bolt is to blurt, or send forth any hasty sentiment or opinion. 
 Now for perfectly understanding the whole, we must attend to the 
 character of Benedick, who is represented at the opening of the play 
 as entertaining an indifference, or at least of showing an affected in- 
 difference for women. He therefore challenges Cupid, or love, 
 
ACT I. SC I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 239 
 
 armed as he is supposed to be, aud with all his power of wit and 
 fancy, to cope or enter the lib.ts with him, " he has wit enough to 
 defend himself." But a further explication of ' bird-bolt' is jet re- 
 quired : its hidden meaning must be set to view. A ■ bolt,' as I 
 have before observed, is not onlj an arrow, but aitj word or expres- 
 sion suddenly thrown out. Hence, "a fool's bolt is soon shot." 
 Meaning that the fool speaks hastily ; that be instantly utters what- 
 ever is uppermost in his thought, in a word, that his sallies are lively 
 and without premeditation, as is certainly the case. 
 
 We sec then the reason for which Benedick is made to challenge 
 love. But why, it will be asked, does the fool subscribe for .Cupid, 
 and summon Benedick to a trial at the Bird bolt ? Bird with the 
 earlier writers is mistress, a woman beloved and courted. The fool 
 who has noticed the character of the champion, is said by Beatrice 
 to challenge this adversary of woman ; aud in the name of Cupid at 
 the bird-boil: that is to bring him to the presence of beauty, to an 
 assembly of women on whom he has exercised his wit; and that it 
 may of course be seen whether he can maintain his ground against 
 the force of their charms and pleasantry united, or if he must neces- 
 sarily succumb to them. That I have rightly interpreted the pas- 
 sage, the very circumstance of challenging Cupid I believe will 
 prove. If this is not admitted the whole will be without a conse- 
 quence, and that in Shakspeare would be extraordinary indeed. B. 
 
 Bene. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you 
 play the flouting Jack ; to tell us Cupid is a good hare- 
 finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? 
 
 — to tell us Cupid is a good lunc-fimlvr, Ike. I know not whether 
 
 I conceive the jest here intended. Claudia hints his love of Hero. Be- 
 nedick asks whether he is serious, or whether he only means to jest, and 
 tell them that Cupid is a good har&flnder, and Vulcan a rare eaipcnter. 
 A man praising a pretty lady in jest, may show the quick sight of Cupid, 
 but what has it to do with the carpentry oi Vulcan ? Perhaps the thought 
 lies no deeper than this, Do you mean to tell us as new what we all know al- 
 ready? John. 
 
 ' To tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, &c.' The meaning, I 
 believe, is this " How am I to understand you • Do you mean to 
 tell us that Cupid is sure to bring trouble and anxiety to his follow- 
 ers ?" (To be hare, or haried is, in old language, to be confused, 
 troubled, perplexed.) " And do you further inform us that Vulcan 
 was an excellent [carpenter,] chariot-builder V Benedick would 
 have it understood, " both these circumstances are known to me." 
 The poet has called Vulcan a chariot-builder, in mistake, and in- 
 stead of his monstrous issue Kricihonius, who was actually the in- 
 ventor of 'that vehicle (carpentum ). The " Carpentaria fabrica," 
 has led our Author to use the English substantive in the Latin 
 sense ; and not altogether, improperly in speaking of the Lemniau 
 god, though, as before remarked, it is to his sou, if son he must be 
 called, that it will particularly apply. B. 
 
240 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT II. 
 
 Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. 
 
 Bene. Like the old tale, my lord : it is not so, nor 
 'twas not so : but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. 
 
 Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid 
 it should be otherwise. 
 
 Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. This and the three next 
 speeches I do not well understand; there seems something omitted rela- 
 ting to Hero's consent, or to Claudio's marriage, else I kn>>w not what 
 Claudio can wish not to be otherwise. The copies all read alike. Perhaps 
 it may be betier thus, 
 
 Claud. If this zoereso, so were it. 
 
 Bene. Uttered like the old tale, Ike. 
 Claudio gives a sullen answer, if it is so,soit is. Still there seems some- 
 thing omitted which Claudio and Pedro concur in wishing. John. 
 
 ' If this were so, so were it uttered.' I see no kind of chasm 
 here: and the speeches are easily understood. Claudio says : ' If 
 this' (his love for Hero) ' were so,' [would] ' it were so uttered/ — 
 i. e. " would it were made known," or — " I would that Leonato 
 were acquainted with that love." Benedick, — and according to his 
 ordinary humor observes, — "God forbid it should be so: that 
 you should be really in love." To this, his companion replies, — 
 " If my passion change not shortly"— that is — " if some other pas- 
 sion (such perhaps as the greater one of ambition) seize not on me; 
 God forbid it should be otherwise." In a word, his wish (as be 
 would insinuate) is, at present, only for the gaining of Hero. B. 
 
 Conr. What the good -j or, my lord ! why are you 
 thus out of measure sad ? 
 
 What the good-jer, my lord ! Wc should read, goitjere. Steev. 
 
 ' What the good-jer, my lord.' We should not read goujere. 
 ' Jer' is the same asjere or gere, i. e. jest, joke. The expression is 
 equivalent to — " In the name of pleasantry, why, cvc." B. 
 
 Claud. Beauty is a witch, 
 
 Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 
 
 beauty is a witch, 
 
 Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 
 i. e. as wax when opposed to the fire kindled by a witch, no longer pre- 
 serves the figure of the person whom it was designed to represent, but 
 flows into a shapeless lump ; so fidelity, when confronted with beauty, 
 dissolves into our ruling passion, and is lost there like a drop of water in 
 the sea. Steev. 
 
 ' Beauty is a witch.' We are here presented with a note, which 
 may be deserving of a place among the Curiosities of Literature. 
 To Mr. Disraeli I therefore commit it. But whatever may be Mr. 
 Steevens's idea of the power of witchcraft, I am of opinion that wax 
 will melt, when exposed to the action of fire, whether that fire 
 should be kindled by a witch, or even by Mr. S. himself: — who is 
 certainly not to be numbered among the supernatural, — since his 
 annotations passim, enchanting as they may be in his own conceit, 
 
SCENE I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 241 
 
 can inspire the reader with nothing but disgust. Had the commen- 
 tator observed, indeed, that the witch or wizard could, — accordiug 
 to the vulgar notion — preserve a waxen figure from the effect of 
 hear, he Would have been pretty correct in his account, though 
 telling us nothing but what we had learnt from the demonologistsof 
 former davs. 
 
 He is equally at war with nature and with fact in speaking of 
 love, as the 4 ruling passion' — for it is well known that the ruling 
 passion will often be different with different men. Had he called 
 love the universal passion, all would have acknowledged him to be 
 right. B. 
 
 Bene. Huddling jest upon jest, with such impossible 
 conveyance, upon me, that I stood like a man at a 
 mark, with a v\ hole army shooting at me. 
 
 such impossible conveyance. Dr. Warburton reads, impassable ; Sir 
 Thomas Hanmer impetuous, and Dr. Johnson importable, which, says he, 
 is used by Spenser, in a sense very congruous to this passage for insup- 
 jroriable, or not to be sustained. Also by the last translators of the Apocry- 
 pha, and therefore such a word as Shakspeare may be supposed to have 
 Written. Reed. 
 
 ' Such impossible conveyance.' ' Impossible,' as Johnson well ob- 
 serve*, has in this place no meaning. The impassable of Warbur- 
 ton I must reject ; not because there is no authority for the use of 
 it, but by reason that it is no way expressive of parried, or passed 
 off, though he has so conceived of it. The proper word, as it 
 would seem, is ' imposeable' and in the sense of authoritative. 
 " Huddling jest upou jest, with such imposeable conveyance," i. e. 
 " pouring jest upon jest, with such a powerful, such a command- 
 ing dcii\< iv." I think the critic has wholly mistaken the significi- 
 tion of ' importable in Spenser: it must there mean important, 
 great, as being heart/. " Importable power," — great, mighty force. 
 It is certain that 1m is not here used as in some instances for the 
 privative or negative In. B. 
 
 Pedro. I will, in the interim, undertake one of Her- 
 cules' labours ; which is to bring Signior Benedick, and 
 the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one 
 with the other. 
 
 tn brprtg xignior Benedick and the lady "Beatrice into a mountain of affec- 
 tum the one ttith the other. A Ynountain of affectum with one another is a 
 Strang ssion, yet I know rui well how to change it. Perhaps it 
 
 was originally written, to bring Benedick and Beatrice into a mooting of 
 ion ; to bring thern pot to any more mooting* ofc< utectdoa, but to a 
 ag nr convi love. This reading is confirmed by the prepo- 
 
 sition with ; a mountain leith each o!nr,<jr affection with each other, cannot 
 I e U led, but a mooting with each other is proper and resular. John. 
 
 ' To bring Benedick and Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the 
 one with the other.' Johnson's proposed ' mooting' should not be 
 
 SHAK. I. Q 
 
242 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT II. 
 
 received, as being unlike both in appearance and sound to the word 
 in the text. Beside, it is never used to signify conversation simply, 
 and as he would understand it. A moot case is a doubtful or dis- 
 putable case : and to moot is to plead or argue such an affair, by 
 stating a point of law, and in the way .of exercise. The passages 
 adduced by the Editors in order to illustrate * mountain of affection/ 
 are nothing to the purpose. ' Mountains of miseries — mountains of 
 promises — and mountains of vexation,' are expressions sufficiently 
 clear and easy. But * bring into a mountain of affection with each 
 other,' i. e. " into a heap, or great deal of affection with," is not 
 only defective in grammar, but meaning. 
 
 The Poet, I should imagine, has written mounting (growing, 
 a french sense, montant.) It is not, however, a ' mounting of affec- 
 tion,' the order will be — ' a mounting affection of,' &c. Read, 
 " I will undertake one of Hercules' labors; which is to bring 
 Benedick and Beatrice into a mounting affection of the one with 
 the other," i.e. I will undertake to bring Benedick and Beatrice into 
 a growing love of each other. If the reader prefers the word 
 tnountant, (mountant affection, i. e. rising affection,) there is 
 authority for it. Timon, A/4. S. 4. B. 
 
 Claud. The music ended, 
 
 We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. 
 
 Pedro^ See where Benedick halh hid himself ? 
 
 Claudio. Very well, my lord : the music ended, we'll ft the kid-fox with 
 a penny-worth, i. e. we will be even with the fox now discovered. So the 
 word kid, or kidde, signifies in Chaucer : 
 " The soothfastness that now is hid, 
 " Without coverture shall be kid 
 11 When I undoen have this dreming." Romaunt of the Rose. 
 
 2171, &c. Grey. 
 « We'll fit the kid-fox,' &c. The sense of c kid' is here mistaken 
 by the Commentators. A ' kid-fox' is a cunning, artful, knotting 
 fox. See Spenser. 
 
 The lines from Chaucer show that it has with him the same 
 meaning. 
 
 Thus, a kidnapper, or as it should be written kid-nabber, is not a 
 catcher of kids or children, as is usually imagined, but a cunning, 
 artful, catcher. B. 
 
 Pedro. I would have daff'd all other respects, and 
 made her half myself. 
 
 have daff'd ] To daff is the same as to doff, to do off, to put 
 
 aside. So in Macbeth : 
 
 " , to doff their dire distresses." Stkev. 
 
 ■ Have daff'd/ &c. Daff is not the same as 'doff,' which no 
 doubt means to throw off, to put asid*. To daff is to subdue, to 
 repress. B. 
 
ACT III. SC. III. MUCH ADO A130UT NOTHING. 243 
 
 Pedr,o. He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, 
 and the little hangman dare not shoot at him. 
 
 the little hangman dare not shout at him. This character of Cupid came 
 from the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney : 
 
 " Millions of yeares this old drivell Cupidlives; 
 " While still more wretch, more wicked he doth prove : 
 
 " Till now at length that Jove him office gives, 
 " (At Juno's suit who much did Argus love) 
 " In this our world a hangman for to be 
 " Of all those fooles that will have all they see." 
 
 B. ii. ch. 14. Farm. 
 I would read " twangman," i. e. bowman. Why Cupid should be 
 called hangman, I do not well see. B. 
 
 Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. 
 
 She shall be buried with her face upwards. Thus the whole set of 
 editions : but what is there any way particular in this? Are not all men 
 and women buried so ? Sure, the poet means, in opposition to the general 
 rule, and by way of distinction, with her heels upwards, or face down- 
 wards. I have chosen the first rcadinfr, because I find it the expression 
 in vogue in our author's time. Thf.ob. 
 
 This emendation, which appears to me very specious, is rejected by Dr. 
 Warburton. The meaning seems to be, that she who acted upon princi- 
 ples contrary to others, should be buried with the same contrariety. 
 
 SXEEV. 
 
 " * She shall be buried with her face upwards.' Warburton is per- 
 fectly right in rejecting Theobald's ridiculous change of • face 
 upwards,' into heels upwards ; and the other editors must be ex- 
 ceedingly dull" in not perceiving that the text is correct. "She 
 shall be buried with hrr face upwards." And why is this said ? 
 Because having laid aside, her affected contempt of man, having 
 shewn that she can feel and conduct herself according to the order 
 of nature, " she shall be buried in the u siui I manner." Thus pleasantly- 
 insinuating, that had she remained of her former humor, a different 
 mode of burial would have been proper, and so as to mark an 
 eccentric character. B. 
 
 Conr. Is it possible that any villainy should be so 
 dear ? 
 
 Bora. Thou shouldest rather ask, if it were possible 
 any villainy should be so rich : tor when rich villains 
 have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price 
 they will. 
 
 any villainy should be so rich ; The sense absolutely requires us to read, 
 villain. Wai.b. 
 
 The old reading may stand. Stekv. 
 
 ' Any villainy should be so rich.' The old reading may not 
 stand ; it is nonsense. Villainy may be dear, but it cannot be rich. 
 We must read with Warburton, villain. B. 
 
244 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT IV. 
 
 Bora. Fashioning them like Pharoah's soldiers in the 
 reechy painting. 
 
 reechy painting ; is painting stained by smoke. Steev. 
 
 ' Reechy painting.' • Reechy' is, as Mr. Steevens observes, 
 stained with smoke. Query, if it should not be rcchey, i. e. valua- 
 able, of great worth. See Chaucer. B. 
 
 Marg. And yet now, in despight of his heart, he eats 
 his meat without grudging. 
 
 he eats his meat without grudging. I do not see how this is a proof of 
 Benedick's change of mind. It would afford more proof of amorousness 
 to say, he eats not his meat without grudging; but it is impossible lo fix 
 the meaning of proverbial expressions: perhaps, to eat meat without 
 grudging, was the same as to do as others do, and the meaning is, he is con- 
 tent to lire by eating like other mortals, andxcill be content, notwithstanding 
 his boasts, like other mortals', to have a wife. John. 
 
 ' Eats his meat without grudging.' ' Without grudging,' seems 
 to mean in good humor, icithout moroseness : or as it is elsewhere 
 expressed — Love humanizes him. 
 
 Dr. Johnson appears to have understood ' without grudging' . 
 in the sense of not sparingly. But he is evidently wrong. B. 
 
 Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any 
 man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. 
 
 I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than 
 I. There is much humor, and extreme good sense under the covering of 
 this blundering expression. It is a sly insinuation, that length of years, 
 and the bein^ much hacknied in the ways of men, as Shakspeare expresses 
 it, take off the gloss of virtue, and bring much defilement on ihe manners. 
 For, as a great wit says, Youth is the season of virtue : corruptions grow 
 with years, and 1 believe the oldest rogue in England is the greatest. Ware. 
 
 Much of this is true, but I believe Shakspeare did not intend to bestow 
 all this reflection on the speaker. John. 
 
 • I am as honest,' &c. This remark of Dr. Johnson is extremely 
 absurd : it would take from an. editor the right of explaining any 
 covert expression which his author might use. Verges may have no 
 particular meaning in what he says : he may be supposed to have 
 unconsciously stumbled on a truth. But when the Poet wishes to 
 insinuate to his audience " more than meets the, ear," generally he 
 must have a vehicle by which to convey it. Such objection, then, as 
 that of Dr. Johnson, will not be admitted by the admirers of Shaks- 
 peare: nor wotdd it hold in any other case, for he often speaks instead 
 of the character. B. 
 
 Claud. Out on thy seeming ! I will write against it : 
 You seem to me as Dian in her orh, 
 
 ' Out on thy seeming ! I will write against it : 
 You seem to me as Dian in her orb.' 
 
SCENE I. MUCH, ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 245 
 
 — T will write against it. What? a libel ? nonsense. We should read, 
 I will rate against it, i. e. rail, revile. Ward. 
 
 As lo subscribe to any thing is to a/low it, so to write against is to disal- 
 low or dew/. John. 
 
 The commentators have wholly mistaken the sense. The passage 
 however is wrong pointed. CJaudio in saying, ' I will write against 
 it,' does not mean that he will write a libel, any more than that he 
 will disallow, deny, or even rate against the ' seeming' of Hero. On 
 the contrary, he would affirm of the lady's 'seeming, ' lie would ac- 
 knowledge that such was really the case. ' Against it' is over- 
 agaimt, as is sometimes spoken of seltiiig the hand to, witnessing. 
 We must read, 
 
 Hero. ' And seem'd I ever otherwise to you ? 
 
 Claud. Out on thy seeming ! —I will write against it 
 ' [that] You seem to me as Dian in her orb.' 
 
 i. e. " Away with your seeming ! But since you rest upon that, I 
 admit what you say : I am ready to attest in writing that you seem, 
 &c." 
 
 The expression is here elliptical, which, with wrong pointing, 
 occasious frequent obscurity in Shakspeare. B. 
 
 Leon. Griev'd I, 1 had but one ? 
 
 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? 
 O, one too much by thee ! 
 
 Griev'd I, ] had but one ? 
 
 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? 
 
 I've one too much by thee ! 
 The meaning of the second line, according to the present reading is this, 
 Chid I at frugal nature that she sent me a girl and not a boa ? But this is 
 not what he chid nature for; if he himself may be believed, it was because 
 she had given him but one ; and in that he owns he did foolishly, for he 
 now finds he had one too much. He called her frugal, therefore, in 
 giving him but one child. (For to call her so, because she chose to send 
 a girl rather than a boy,would be ridiculous.) So that we must certainly 
 read : 
 
 Chid I for this at frugal nature's 'fraine ? 
 i. e. refrainc, or keeping back her further favors, stopping her hand, as we 
 say, when she had given him one. But the Oxford editor has, in his usual 
 way, improved this amendment by substituting hand for 'fraine. Warb. 
 
 Though frame be not a word which appears to a reader of the present 
 time most proper to exhibit the poet's sentiment, yet it may as well be 
 Usui to shew that he had one child, -and no more, as that he had a girl, not 
 a boy, and as it may easily signify the system of things, or universal scheme, 
 the \vhole order of beings is comprehended ; there arises no difficulty from 
 it which requires to be removed by so violent an effort as the introduction 
 of a new word offensively mutilated. John. 
 
 ' Chid I for this at frugal Nature's frame Y Johnson's interpre- 
 tation is unsatisfactory : at any rate it is made by too violent an 
 effort. Thus to wrest the sense of ' frame' to his purpose, is merely 
 to save himself from the trouble of search. That the expression 
 comes not from the pen of Shakspeare there is every reason to be- 
 lieve : — the 'fraine of Warburton, however, is harsh, while it gives, 
 
246* MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT V. 
 
 at best, but an imperfect meaning. The Poet's word, as it would 
 seem, is the Saxon /rente, which signifies anger, displeasure. Thus the 
 reasoning is sufficiently clear and consistent, and such as Leonato 
 would naturallj fall iuto on the supposed ill-conduct of his daughter. B. 
 
 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honor. 
 
 «*• bent of honor ; Bent is used hy our author for the utmost 
 
 degree of any passion, or mental quality. In this play before, Benedick 
 says of Beatrice, her affection has its full bent. The expression is derived 
 from archery; the tow has its lent, when it .is drawn as far as it can 
 be. John. 
 
 'Bent of honor.' We must read bend of honor. The expres- 
 sion is taken from Heraldry. Betid, in the' language of the pro- 
 fessors of that science, is one of the ten honorable ordinaries. 
 
 This is one, among innumerable instances, of the want of care and 
 attention in the editors, and of the errors into which we may be led 
 when an attempt is made at explanation by resting it on the word 
 alone, and without properly considering the thought as it arises from 
 the situation and character of the speaker. • Her affection has its 
 full bent' is no doubt taken from archery. B. 
 
 Friar. It so falls out, 
 
 That what we have we prize not to the worth, 
 Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, 
 Why, then we rack the value. 
 
 zee rack the value ; i. e. We exaggerate the value. 
 
 The allusion is to rack-rents. Steev. 
 
 ' Rack the value.' It were far better to read ' reck the value,' 
 i. e. rate it according to its worth. B. 
 
 Dogb. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way : — Let the 
 watch come forth. 
 
 To CI. Yea, marry, that's the easiest way : Letthe watch come forth : This 
 easiest is a sophistication of our modern editors, who were at a loss to make 
 out the corrupted reading of the old copies. The quarto in 1600, and the first 
 and second editions in folio, all concur in reading ; Yea, marry, that's the 
 eftest way, &c. A letter happened to slip out at press in the first edition ; 
 and 'twas too hard a task for the subsequent editors to put it in, or guess at 
 the word under this accidental depravation. There is no doubt but the 
 author wrote, as I have restored the text. Yea, marry, that's the deftest 
 way, &c. i. e. the readiest, most commodious vay. Tiieob. 
 
 ' That's the easiest way.' ' Eftest' is right. It signifies in old 
 language, speediest, shortest. Deft is neat, spruce, trim. B. 
 
 Leon. Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, 
 Whose joy of her is overwhelm 'd like mine, 
 And bid him speak of patience : 
 Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, 
 And let it answer every strain for strain ; 
 
SCENE I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 2 i7 
 
 As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 
 
 In every lineament, branch, shape, and form : 
 
 If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ; 
 
 And, sorrow wag ! cry ; hem, when he should groan : 
 
 Patch grief with proverbs ; make misfortune drunk 
 
 With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me, 
 
 And I of him will gather patience. 
 
 If such a one will Sftile, and stroke his beard ; 
 
 J nd hallow, wag, cry hem, when he should groan : 
 Mr. Rowe is the first authority that I can find for this reading;. But what 
 is the intention, or how can we expound it? " If" a man will halloo, and 
 whoop, andjidget, and wriggle about, to shew a pleasure when lie should 
 groan," &c. This does not give much decorum to the sentiment. The 
 old quarto, and the first and second folio editions, all read : 
 
 And sorrow, wagge, cry hem,tkc. 
 We don't, indeed, get much by this reading; though, I flatter myself, by 
 a slight alteration it has led me to the true one, 
 
 And sorrow wage; cry, hem ! uhen he should groan ; 
 i. e. If such a one will combat with, strive against sorrow, &c. Nor is this 
 word infrequent witji our author in these significations. Theod. 
 
 Sir Thomas Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, for wag read waive, 
 which is, I suppose, the same as put aside, or shift off. None of these 
 conjectures satisfy me, nor perhaps any other reader. L cannot but think 
 the true meaning nearer than it is imagined. I point thus •. 
 
 If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard. 
 
 And, sorrow wag ! cry ; hem, when he should groan ; 
 That is, If he will smile, and cry sorrow be gone, and hem instead of groan- 
 ing. The order in which and and cry are placed, is harsh, and this harsh- 
 ness made the sense mistaken. Range the words in the common order 
 and my reading will be free from all difficulty. 
 If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, 
 Cry, sorrow, wag ! and hem when he should groan. John. 
 What will be said of the conceit I shall now offer, I know not; let it, 
 however, take its chance. W T e might read: 
 
 If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, 
 
 And, sorry wag ! cry hem ! when he should groan. — 
 i. e. unfeeling humourist ! to employ a note of festivity, when his sighs ought 
 to express concern. Both the words I would introduce, are used by Shaks- 
 peare. Falstaff calls the Prince sweet wag ! and the epithet sorry is ap- 
 plied, even at this time, to denote any moderate deviation from propriety 
 or morality; as, for instance, a sorry fellow. Othello speaks of a salt and 
 sorry rheum. The prince, in the First Part of K. Henry IV. act II. sc. 
 iv. says : " — they cry, hem ! and bid you play it oft." This sufficiently 
 proves the exclamation to have been of a comic turn. Steev. 
 
 I take this opportunity to observe, that the various and discordant 
 opinions about this passage, should teach both the present and future race 
 of commentators, to be less dogmatical than we frequently find them on 
 a subject wherein there is so little certainty as that of conjectural criti- 
 cism. Reed. 
 
 ' And sorrow wagge,' &c. The reading of the old copies, ' And 
 sorrow wagge cry hem, &c.' is very nearly right. It is not the sub- 
 stantive wag, which is here to be understood, but the verb to iva°r, 
 and which is employed in the sense of to move tremulously, to shake. 
 
248 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT V 
 
 We must read : "And sorrow wa <.•»'<] [compound word] cry hem, 
 Arc." i. e. moved to sorrow, sorrow-shaken. Had Shakspeare written 
 soi'row-shak'd (we should now say shook or shaken,) the expression 
 would have been clear to every one. Svrrow-wagg'd is exactly the 
 same. To us' it appears uncouth, hut this arises wholly from fhe 
 modern acceptation of the word. To wag had not in former days 
 the playful meaning which is now annexed to it, as we see by the 
 scripture. " And they that passed by reviled him, wagging, i. e. 
 shaking [as unbelievers."] their heads. The meaning of the whole 
 will be, " If any father, who like myself had thus unhappily lost 
 his child, and who in consequence of it is, and according to the 
 nature of man, particularly affected by it, sorrow- slwk'd or shaken, 
 or as the Poet chooses to express it, sorrow-wagg'd ; if, 1 say, in such 
 a case, he will yet put on an air of indifference, &c bring him to 
 me, and from his example I will gather patience." B. 
 
 Leon. For there was nevsr yet philosopher, 
 That could endure the tooth-ach patiently ; 
 However they have writ the style of gods 
 And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 
 
 Hozcever they have writ the st)le of gods. This alludes to the extrava~ 
 gant titles the Stoics gave their \wse men. Sapiens Me turn Diis ex pare 
 vivit. Senec. E|>. 59. Jupiter quo autecedit virum bonum? diutius bonus 
 cut. Sapiens nihilo se minoris astimat. — Deus nun vincit sapitntem/i: /t'ci- 
 tute. Ep. 73. Warb. 
 
 Shakspeare might have used this expression, without any acquaintance 
 with the hyperboles of stoicism. By the style of gods, he meant an exalt- 
 ed language; such as we may suppose would be written by beings supe- 
 rior to human calamities, and therefore regarding them with neglect and 
 coldness. Stelv. 
 
 And made a pish at chance and sufferance : Alludes to their former 
 apathy. Warb. 
 
 ' However they have writ the style of gods.' This line * And make 
 a pish at chance and sufferance,' proves that Warburion is right 
 respecting * style of gods,' and that the allusion is to the Stoics. B. 
 
 Leon Canst thou so daffe me ? Thou hast kill'd my 
 child ; 
 If thou kilfst me, bov, thou shalt kill a man. 
 
 Canst thou so daffe me f- This is a country word, Mr. Pope tells 
 
 us, signifying daunt* It may he so; but that is not the exposition here : 
 To daffe and doffe are synonymous terms, that mean, to put off: whit h is 
 the very sense required here, and what Leon.ito would reply upon Clau- 
 dio's saying, he would have nothing to do with him. T heob. 
 
 'Canst thou so daffe me?' Daffe and dojft are by no means 
 synonymous terms. They have, indeed, been confounded by several 
 writers. But daffe has usually the sense of daunt and sometimes 
 that of banter. B. 
 
SCENE I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 24.0. 
 
 Ant. I know them, yea, 
 
 And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple : 
 Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys. 
 
 Scumbling — -i. e. scrambling. The word is more than once used by 
 Shakspeare. See Dr. Percy's note on the first speech of the play of A'. 
 Henry V. and likewise the Scots proverb " It is well keu'd your father's 
 son was never a scumbler." A scamb/er in its literal sense, is one who 
 goes about among his friends to get a dinner, by the Irish called a cosher- 
 er. Stebv. 
 
 ' Scambling, &c.' ' Scambling' is not scrambling, but roving, 
 rambling, unsettled; and that is evidently the sense required 
 here. B. 
 
 Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your pa- 
 tience. 
 
 tee wilt not wake your patience. This conveys a sentiment that the 
 speaker would by no means have implied. That the patience of the two 
 old men was not exercised, but asleep, which upbraids them for insensi- 
 bility under their wrong. Shakspeare must have wrote : 
 
 we will not wrack 
 
 i. e. destroy your patience by tantalizing you. Warb. 
 
 Thi? emendation is very specious, and perhaps is right: yet the present 
 reading may admit a congruous meaning with less difficulty than many 
 other of Shakspeare's expressions. 
 
 The old men have been both very angry and outrageous ; the prince 
 tells them that he and Claudio will not wake their. patience ; will not any 
 longer force them to endure the presence of those whom, though they look 
 on them as enemies, they cannot resist. John. 
 
 ' We will not wake your patience.' ' Wrack' is harsh, and John- 
 son's explanation is unsatisfactory. I think we should read and 
 point thus, 
 
 ' Gentlemen both, we will not wrake your patience.' 
 i. e. Gentlemen, we will not be moved to anger : we will not become 
 revengeful. Give us your patience." Wrake, the old word for 
 anger, revenge. B. 
 
 m — 
 
 Bora. Don John your brother iucens'd me to slander 
 the lady Hero ; 
 
 ' Incens'd me to slander the lady Hero.' Not incensed, or pro- 
 voked, but put into the sense. It is now said, in familiar language, 
 what could put that into your senses ? The word should be written 
 with an S, as well in the second as in the third syllable — insenscd. 
 The expression, simplv, will be — set me on the business. As the 
 passage stands, it looks as if Borachio were angered ; which is wholly 
 contrary to the Poet's meaning. B. 
 
 Leon. This naughty man 
 
 Shall lace to face be brought to Margaret, 
 Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, 
 HirVl to it by your brother. 
 
250 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT V. 
 
 Who, 1 believe, was pack' 'd in all this wrong, i. e. combined: an accom- 
 plice. So, in lord Bacon's Works, vol. iv. p. 269. edit. 1740. " if the 
 issue shall be this, that whatever shall be done for him, shall be thought 
 to be done by a number of persons that shall be labored and packed. 
 
 Mal. 
 So, in King Lear : 
 
 " — snuffs and packings of the dukes." Steev. 
 
 ' Was pack'd in all this wrong.' To pack, when speaking of per- 
 sons, is to unite them in any bad design. To pick out people of 
 any particular description, with a view to some particular advan- 
 tage. 
 
 ' Packings,' here brought by Mr. S. to illustrate, are nothing to 
 the purpose. B. 
 
 (Claudio reads.) 
 Done to death by slanderous tongues 
 Was the Hero, that here lies : 
 
 Done to death — — This obsolete phrase occurs frequently in our ancient 
 writers. Mal. 
 
 ' Done to death.' This is according to the French idiom /aire 
 mourir. B. 
 
errp aatt^es of JKUtnfisfor* 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Slen. All his successors, gone before him, have don't : 
 and all his ancestors, that come after him, may : they 
 may give the dozen white luces in their coat. 
 
 Shal. It is an old coat. 
 
 Evans. The dozen white louses do become an old 
 coat well ; it agrees well, passant : it is a familiar beast 
 to man, and signifies — love. 
 
 Shal. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is an old 
 coat. 
 
 The luce, &c. I see no consequence in this answer. Perhaps we may- 
 read the salt fish is not an old coat. That is, the fresh fish is the coat of an 
 ancient family, and the salt , fish is the coat of a merchant grown rich by 
 trading over the sea. John. 
 
 Shakspeare, by hinting that the arms of the Shallows and the Lucys 
 were the same, shews he could not forget his old friend Sir Thomas Lucy, 
 pointing at him under the character of Justice Shallow. But to put the 
 matter out of all doubt, Shakspeare has here given us a distinguishing 
 mark, whereby it appears that Sir Thomas was the very person repre- 
 sented by Shallow. To set blundering parson Evans right, Shallow tells 
 him, the luce is not the louse, but the fresh fishy or pike, the salt fish 
 (indeed) is an old coat. The plain English of which is (if I am not greatly 
 mistaken) the family of the Charlcotts had for their arms a salt fish origi- 
 nally. ; but when William, son of Walker de Charlcott, assumed the 
 name of Lucy, in the time of Henry III. he took the arms of the Lucys. 
 This is not at all improbable; for we find, when Maud Lucy bequeathed 
 her estates to the Percys, it was upon condition they joined her arms with 
 their own. Says Dugdale, " it is likely William de Charlcott took the 
 
252 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ACT I. 
 
 name of Lucy to oblige his mother." And I say farther, it is likely he took 
 the arms of the Lucns at the same time." Smtth. 
 
 Shakspeare seems to frolick here in his heraldry, with a design not to 
 be easily understood. In Leland's Collectanea, vol. I. p. ii. p. 015. the arms 
 of Geffrey fie Lucy are " de goulcs poudre. a croisil dor a treis luz dor." 
 Can the poet mean to quibble upon the word roudre, that is powdered, 
 which signifies suited; or strewed and sprinkled with any thinu ? In 
 Measure for Measure, Lucio says — " Ever your frebh whore and your pow- 
 dered bawd." Tollet. 
 
 * The luce,' &o. What do the commentators mean by talking of 
 a salt fish being used in armorial bearings ! Is ihere really a fish 
 with such a name ? does the nomenclature of the Ichthyologist ex- 
 hibit it? or if they do not intend to set down the name or species of 
 fish, but merely to speak of a salted fish, bow is this salted fish to be 
 depicted by the herald-painter? There is a quibble on the words 
 luce and luche (fr.J Luce is the pike, and called by Shallow the 
 fresh (i. e. fresh water) fi>h. Luche is a lewd beggarly fellow ; and 
 by a figure he is made to stand for salt fish. The whole may he 
 explained thus. Slender is boasting of the family arms or coat. 
 Shallow says *' it is an old coat/' i. e. The family is ancient : armo- 
 rial ensigns have always belonged to it." In his reply to Evans it is 
 merely to remove his error respecting old coat as if speaking of 
 wearing apparel, and the louses (as the Parson calls them) which 
 may be supposed to be lodged in it. When, in consequence of 
 Slender's remark, Shallow says — ours is an old coat four armorial 
 bearings are ancient) ; he would insinuate that the luces in it air 
 flower- de- luces. When he replies to Evans he drops the flowers for 
 the sake of the quibble. " You are mistaken," cries the Justice, 
 " Luces are pikes : the pike is a fresh fish ; the luche, the lewd 
 fellow is the salt fish, and as he is likewise beggarly, his coat must 
 of course be old." B. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne Paoer she has brown hair, and 
 speaks small like a woman. 
 
 speaks small like a woman. This is from the folio of 1623, and is the 
 true reading. He admires her for the sweetness of her voice. But the 
 expression is highly humourous, as making her speaking small like a 
 woman, one of her marks of distinction; and the ambiguity of small, 
 which signifies little, as well as low, makes the expression still more plea- 
 sant. Warb. 
 
 Dr. Warburton has found more pleasantry here than I believe was in- 
 tended. Small was, I think, not used in an ambiguous sense, but simply 
 for ueak, slender, feminine ; and the only pleasantry of the passage seems 
 to be, that poor Slender should characterise his mistress by a general 
 quality belonging to her whole sex. In The Midsummer Night's Dream, 
 Quince tells Flute, who objects to playing a woman's part, "You shall 
 play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will." Mal. 
 
 ' Speaks, small like a woman/ means, speaks in a low and gentle 
 manner as a woman should do. There is no pleasantry intended : 
 and Mr. Malone's remark is quite out of point when he says that 
 Anne Page is characterised by a qualify common to her whole sex : 
 or that she is. made to speak like a woman because she is a woman. 
 
SCENE I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 253 
 
 Pleasant indeed ! But Mr. Malone must be little acquainted with the 
 character of women to maintain that sma/lness of speech is common 
 to all ; in whatever sense we may consider the word. B. 
 
 Pist. He hears with ears. 
 
 Evans. The • tevil and his tam ! what phrase is this, 
 Tie hears with car? Why, it is affectations. 
 
 uhitt phrase is this. Sir Hugh is justified in his censure of this 
 
 passage by Pecham, who in bis Garden of Eloquence, 1577, places this 
 very mode ofexprrssion under the article Pleonasmus. Hex. 
 
 ' The tevil and his tain ! He hears with ears — what phrase is this? 
 why it is affectations..' 
 
 Pistol by "hears with ears" means that he listens: attentively : 
 that he will take account of what he hears, and not behave like many, 
 of whom it may be said, in vulgar language, that what they hear 
 is in at one ear, and out at the other. " Receive in thine heart, and 
 htar with thine ears.'' Ezek. B. 
 
 Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner ! — Sir John, and 
 master mine, 
 I combat challenge of this latten bilboe : 
 
 l combat challenge of thh Latin bilboe : Our modern editors have distin- 
 guished this word Latin in Italic characters, as if it was addressed to Sir 
 Hugh, and meant to call him pedantic blade, on account of his being* 
 schoolmaster, and teaching Latin. But I'll be bold to say, in this they 
 do not take the poet's conceit. Pistol barely calls Sir Hugh mountain- 
 tbreigner, because he had interposed in the dispute : but then immediate- 
 ly demands the combat of Slender, for having charged him with picking 
 bis pocket. The old quartos write it latten, as it should be, in the com- 
 mon characters: and as a proof that the author designed this should be 
 addressed to Slender, Sir Hugh does not there interpose one word in the 
 
 quarrel. But what then signifies latten bilboe f Why, Pistol, seeing 
 
 Slender such a slim, puny wight, would intimate that he is as thin as a 
 plate of that compound metal, which is called latten : and which was, as 
 we are told, the old arichaic. Tiif.ou. 
 
 I believe Theobald has given the true sense of latten, though he is 
 wrong in supposing that the, allusion is to blender's thinness. It is rather 
 to his softness or weakness. Tvp.wii. 
 
 I combat challenge of this latin bilboe. It appears to me that 
 this speech of Pistol is totally misunderstood by the commentators. 
 I do not remember that " Bilboe" has ever been applied personally. 
 By a rhetorical figure it will stand for sword : Bilboa in Spain having 
 been long famed for the tempering of sword blades. With respect to 
 " fatten," I am of opinion that it signifies neither slim nor puny as 
 Theobald supposes : nor yet soft or weak as Mr. Tyrwhitt has set 
 down : properties and qualities, indeed, which no way belong to it. 
 1 rather conceive that it means made up, counterfeit, since latten, 
 which, thus spoken of, appears but one particular metal, contains, 
 in reality, two or three. There should be a break at latten. Pistol 
 in his anger says : " I ask combat of this latten," (he would add 
 
254 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ACT I. 
 
 perhaps rascal) " I challenge this counterfeit, this rascal, this sem- 
 blance of a man. He then exclaims ' Bilboe !' i. e. the sword ! 
 " That is the word by which I gainsay all that thou hast advanced 
 respecting me. Thou liest, &c." This vapouring manner will be 
 found perfectly consonant to the character as exhibited in other parts 
 of the play and in Henry IV. B. 
 
 Nym. The anchor is deep ! Will that humor pass ? 
 
 The anchor is deep : Will that humor pass ? I see not what relation the 
 anchor has to translation. Perhaps we may read, the author is deep ; or 
 perhaps the line is out of its place, and should be inserted lower after 
 FalstafF has said, 
 
 Sail like my pinnace to those golden shores. 
 It may be observed, that in the tracts of that timea«cAer and author could 
 hardly be distinguished. John. 
 
 The anchor is deep. Dr. Johnson very acutely proposes u the 
 author is deep." He reads with the first copy, " he hath study'd her well." 
 And from this equivocal word, Nym catches the idea of deepness. Farm. 
 
 'The anchor is deep/ The Commentators have mistaken the 
 meaning of ' anchor' in this place. Anchor, with the old writers, 
 is anchoret. Pistol so calls Ford on account of the melancholy 
 which marks his character, and which is frequently noticed in the 
 course of the play. ' The anchor is deep,' i. e. the anchoret is cun- 
 ning. B. 
 
 Nym. The revolt of mien is dangerous : that is my 
 true humour. 
 
 — the revolt of mien. The revolt of mine is the old reading. Revolt of 
 mien is change of countenance, one of the effects be has just been ascribing 
 to jealousy. Steev. 
 
 ' The revolt of mien/ 'Mine' is the French word for countenance . 
 There is no necessity for change. B. 
 
 Quic. You shall have An fools-head of your own. 
 No, I know Anne's mind for that : never a woman in 
 Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do ; 
 
 You shall have aim fool's head. Mrs. Quickly, I believe, intends a quib- 
 ble between ann, sounded broad, and one, which was formerly sometimes 
 pronounced on. In the Scottish dialect one is written, and I suppose 
 pronounced, ane. Mal. 
 
 * An fool's head.' An is used instead of a for the sake of the jin- 
 gle Anne. B. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal 
 moment, or so, I could be knighted. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What ! — thou liest ! Sir Alice Ford ! 
 These knights will hack ; and so thou shouldst not alter 
 the article of thy gentry. 
 
ACT II. SC. I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 255 
 
 What ?—thou liest ! — Sir Alice Ford I — These knights will hack, and so 
 thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. The unintelligible non- 
 sense of this speech is hardly to be matched. The change of a single 
 
 letter has occasioned it, which is thus easily removed. Read and point 
 
 These knights will lack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gen- 
 try. The other had said, I could be knighted, meaning, I could have a knight 
 for my lover ; her companion took it in the other sense", of conferring the 
 title, and says What ? — thoit, liest ! —Sir Alice Ford ! — These knights will 
 lack a title [i. e. risk the punishment of degradation] rather than not make 
 a whore of thee. For we are to observe that — and so thou shouldst not, is a 
 mode of speech, amongst the writers of that time, equivalent to — rather 
 than thou shouldst not. Ward. 
 
 Upon this passage the learned editor has tried his strength, in my 
 opinion, with more spirit than success. 
 
 I read thus — these knights we'll hack, and so thou shouldst not alter the 
 article of thy gentry. The punishment of a recreant, or undeserving 
 knight, was to hack off his spurs : the meaning therefore is, it is not 
 worth the while of a gentlewoman to be made a knight, for we'll degrade 
 all these knights in a little time, by the usual form of hacking off their 
 spurs, and thou, if thou art knighted, shalt be hacked with the rest. John. 
 
 ' What! — Sir Alice Ford ! These Knights will hack,' &c. I am 
 fully persuaded that Warburton has fallen on the right word ' lack,' 
 but his interpretation of the passage is wrong. Mrs. Page under- 
 stands Mrs. Ford as saying — that she is to be made a knight: that 
 the honor is to be conferred on her in her own person. In consequence 
 of this belief she replies, 'What? Sir Alice Ford ! These Knights will 
 Jack,' i. e. sveh Knights as these [Lady-Knights] will be wanting, in 
 the essentials to Knighthood, that is to say, in valor and discretion. 
 By which she pleasantly insinuates that these, according to the com- 
 monly received opinion, do not belong to the sex. In other words, 
 " a woman cannot be a true Knight ; and therefore, in being 
 knighted, thou wouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. Thou 
 must be always plain Mrs. Ford !" B. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. For, sure, unless he knew some strain in 
 me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded 
 me in this fury. 
 
 some strain in me Thus the old copies. The modern edi- 
 tors read, " some stain in me," but I think, unnecessarily. A similar ex- 
 pression occurs in The Winter's Tale. 
 
 " With what encounter so uncurrent, have I 
 " Strain'd to appear thus ?" 
 And again in Tiinon : 
 
 " a noble nature 
 
 " May catch a wrench." Stef.v. 
 ' Some strain in me.' ' Strain' is here used for something running 
 through the blood — inclination, tendency. The passages adduced 
 by Mr. S. are nothing to the purpose. B. 
 
 Pist. Hope is a curtail dog in some affairs : 
 Sir John affects thy wife. 
 
£56 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ACT II. 
 
 — curtnil-dog That is, a dog that misses his game. The tail is 
 
 counted necessary to the agility of a greyhound. John. 
 
 4 Curtail dog.' ' Curtail' should be written curt-tail, curt (curtus 
 hi.) short. B. 
 
 Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue. 
 ' Such a drawling affecting rogue." Such a drawling, inanimate 
 fellow, yet affecting to be humorous. B. 
 
 Host. And thy name shall be Brook : It is a merry 
 knight. Will you go an-heirs ? 
 
 Will you go an-heirs? This nonsense is spoken to Shallow. We 
 
 should read, Will you go on, ht:eis ? i. c. Will you go on, master ? Hcris, 
 an old Scotch word for Master. Wahr. 
 
 The merry Host has already saluted them separately by titles of dis- 
 tinction ; he, therefore, probably now addresses them collectively by a 
 general one — "Will you go on, heroes?" or, as probably — " Will you go 
 on, hearts ?" He calls Dr. Cains " Heart of Elder; " and adds, in a sub- 
 sequent scene of this play, " Farewell my hearts." Again, in the Mid- 
 summer's Right Dream, Bottom says, " Where are these hearts ? " " My 
 brave hearts," or" my hold hearts," is a common word of encouragement. 
 A " heart of gold" expresses the more soft and amiable qualities, the 
 Mores aurei ot Horai e ; and a " heart of oak " is a frequent encomium 
 of rugged honesty. Hanmer reads " Mynheers." Steev. 
 
 Will you go an-heirs Y] Perhaps we should read, " Will you go and 
 hear us ? So in the next page — " I had rather hear them scold than light." 
 Mae. 
 
 ' Will you go an-heirs.' May we not better read, ' An you will 
 go: eh, Sir?' It should be remarked, that heirs and eh, Sir, are 
 made up of precise!* the same letters. Of the incorrectness of the 
 Printers, in Shakspeare's time we have proof in almost every page 
 of his works. ' An you will go,' is an expression equivalent to ' Is 
 it your pleasure to go,' or are you ready or willing to go 1 ' Eh, Sir ?' 
 What say you, Sir? ' An' appears redundant, but it was much 
 employed in former days. B. 
 
 Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stand so 
 firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my 
 opinion so easily. 
 
 stand so firmly on his wife's frailly, Thus all the copies. But 
 
 Mr. Theobald has no conception how any man couhl stand firmly on his 
 fwife's frailti . And why? Because he had no conception how he could 
 stand upon it, without knowing what it was. But if I tell a stranger, that 
 the bridge he is about to cross is rotten, and he believes it not, but will go 
 on. may I not say, when I see him upon it, that he stands.firmly on a 
 rotten plank ? Yet lie has changed frailty for fealty, and the Oxford 
 editor has followed him. But they took the phrase,' to stand firmly on, to 
 signify to insist upon ; whereas it signifies to rest upon, which the charac- 
 ter of a secure fool, given to him, shews. So that the common reading 
 has an elegance that would be lost in the alteration. Warb. 
 
 The jealous Ford is the speaker, and all chastity in women appears to him 
 him as frailty. He supposes Page therefore to insist on that virtue As 
 steady," which he himself suspects to be without foundation. Steev. 
 
ICENE II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 257 
 
 * Stand so firmly on his wife's frailty.' Mr. Steevens should have 
 been told that chastity cannot be frailty. We know what he means 
 indeed, that there is only an appearance of chastity in icomen, and 
 thai all are frail. This is what Mr. Steevens would insinuate as 
 being the opinion of Ford. But, like to his predecessor Theobald, 
 the lucidus ordo is seldom discoverable in his writings. He is often, 
 (an unfortunate situation for a Commentator) very often involved 
 in smoke. B. 
 
 Pist. Why, then the world's mine Oyster, which I with 
 sword will open. I will retort the sum in equipage. 
 
 I will retort the sun in equipage.] This is added from the old quarto 
 of 1619, and means, I will pay you again in stolen goods. Ware-. 
 
 I rather believe he means, that he will pay him by waiting on him 
 for nothing. 
 
 That equipage ever meant stolen goods, I am yet to learn. Steev. 
 
 / I will retort in equipage.' Warburton is without the smallest 
 question right. Mr. Sleevens's acuteness is sadly out of place. He 
 is " yet to learn that equipage means stolen goods." But who has 
 said that such is the meaning ? ' I will retort the sum in equipage/ 
 " I will repay you by furnishing necessaries, or things for your use." 
 Now in what way was he to procure them 1 Why the world is his 
 oyster, and he will open that oyster with his sword, i. e. He will rob 
 and plunder. The necessaries (equipage) thus got possession of, can 
 only be called stolen goods. But then it is by no means to follow 
 that equipage must stand generally for stolen goods ; nor would any 
 other than Mr. Steevens, I believe, even for a moment have supposed 
 that it could be so. B. 
 
 Fal. Go. — A short knife and a throng, — to your 
 manor of Pickt-hatch, go. — 
 
 A short knife and a throng TJ So Lear : " When cut-purses come not 
 to throngs." Warm. 
 
 Part of the employment given by Drayton, in The Mooncalf, to the 
 Baboon, seems the same with this recommended by FalstafF: 
 " He like a gypsy oftentimes would go, 
 a All kinds of gibberish he hath learn'd to know: 
 " And with a stick, a short string, and a noose, 
 " Would show the people tricks at fast and loose." 
 Theobald has throng instead of thong. The latter seems right. Langt. 
 Both the folio and quarto read throng. Mal. 
 
 " A short knife and a throng." " Thong " is quite out of the 
 question. Yet Mr. Steevens by talking of purse-strings is, evi- 
 dently, of the same opinion as Mr. Langtou. Falstaff would say: 
 " Go ! and with a short knife : so that when you meet with people 
 in a throng, you may cut their purses." The passage in Lear shows 
 that such is the meaning. B. 
 
 Shak. I. R 
 
258 MfcRRY WIYES OF WINDSOR. ACT H- 
 
 Fal. And yet you rogue will ensconce your rags, 
 ^our cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, 
 and your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your 
 honour ! 
 
 Ensconce your rags, &c] A sconce is a petty fortification. To ensconce . 
 therefore, is to protect as with a fort. The word occurs again in K. Hen. 
 IV. Part I. Steev. 
 
 " Ensconce your rags." " Rags," should be rages (Subst. and 
 Dissyl.) i.e. tricks, aectits. The word is used by Chaucer and 
 other old writers in that sense. The editors, however, by printing 
 rags, must be of opinion that Falstaff is talking of Pistol's tatters. 
 But this is extremely absurd. The context will show that rages i« 
 the proper reading. B. 
 
 Fal. Ha ! Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, have I 
 encompass'd you ? go to ; via t 
 
 Go to ; via !] This cant phrase of exultation is common in the old 
 plays. So, in Blurt Master Constable : 
 
 " Via for fate ! Fortune, lo ! this is all." Steev. 
 
 Markham uses this word as one of the vocal helps necessary for ro- 
 viving a horse's spirits in galloping large rings when he grows slothful. 
 Hence this cant phrase (perhaps from the Italian, via) may be used on 
 other occasious to quicken or pluck up courage. See Vol. II. 499. 
 Tot. 
 
 " Via." This should not be called a cant term of exultation. 
 It is the Latin via, meaning access. Falstaff would say : I have gained 
 my point. I am allowed admission to her. B. 
 
 Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin. 
 
 To see thee foin.] To foin, I believe, was the ancient term for making 
 x thrust in fencing, or tilting. Steev. 
 
 1 rather think that foil is the proper word here — i. e. to see thee 
 overcome or conquer thine enemy. The Joining, or fencing, of 
 Caius, is afterwards spoken of. B. 
 
 Host. Pardon, guest justice : — A word, monsieur 
 mock-water. 
 
 Caius. Mock-vater ! vat is dat ? 
 
 Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valoui, 
 bully. • 
 
 Mock-water.] The host means, I believe, to reflect on the inspection 
 of urine, which made a considerable part of practical physic in that 
 time ; yet I do not well see the meaning of mock-water. John. 
 
 " Mock-water " is here used equivocally. It no doubt alludes, 
 in the first instance, to the inspection of urine, as Dr. Johnson 
 supposes. But what does the host mean, it will be asked, by 
 saying that mock-water is valor i It is said of a bold and resolute 
 fellow that he is ready to go through fire and water ; that nothing 
 
A. III. S. II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 259 
 
 can divert him from his purposes. Mock-water iiwy therefore, in 
 the second instance, be applied to one who defies the elements- 1 — 
 to the man who smiles at danger. B. 
 
 Host. I will brine; thee where Mistress Ann Page is, 
 
 at a farm-house a-fcasting ; and thou shalt woo her : 
 
 Cry'd game, said I well r 
 
 In old editions, " I will bring thee where Ann Page is, at a farm- 
 house a feasting ; and thou shalt woo her: cry'd gome, said I well?" 
 Mr. Theohald alters this nonsense to try' J game ; that is, to nonsense of 
 a worse complexion. Shakspeare wrote and pointed thus, cry aim, 
 said I well ? i. e. consent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good 
 proposal ? for to cry aim signifies to consent to, or approve of any thing. 
 So again in this play : " And to these violent proceedings all my neigh- 
 bours shall cry aim," i.e. approve them. And again, in King John, 
 act II. sc. ii. 
 
 " It ill becomes this presence to cry aim 
 
 " To these ill-tuned repetitions." 
 i. e. to approve of, or encourage them. The phrase was" taken, originally, 
 from archery. When any one had challenged another to shoot at the 
 butts (the perpetual diversion, as well as ex> rcise, of that time,) the 
 standers-hy used to say one to the other, Cry aim, i. e. accept the chal- 
 lenge. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Fair Mtdd of the Inn, 
 Act V. make the Duke say : 
 
 " ■ 'Must 1 cry aime 
 
 " To this unheard of insolence?" . 
 
 But the Oxford editor transforms it to Cork o' the Game ; and his im- 
 provements of Shakspeare's language abound with these modern ele- 
 gancies of speech, such as mynheers, bull-baitings, ixc. Warb. 
 
 " Thou shalt woo her, and cry amie.'' Amie, Fr. a word of 
 endearment. Thou shalt woo her, says the host, and cry amie, — 
 i. e. salute her with the title of lovely mistress, eh, said I well ? 
 That this is the true reading the context will clearly show. The 
 terms aim and aime are confounded by the editors. They are 
 differently spelled in the several passages which are cited, and cer- 
 tainly have different meaning. " Cry aim " in King John should 
 be cry aien. See my note in King John, Act II. Scene 2. 
 In the Fair Maid of the Inne, the signification of " Must I cry 
 aime," is: " Must 1 say content, or, that f like such proceedings?" 
 A French expression. The same of Massinger. B. 
 
 Ford. Well ; I will take him, then torture my wife, 
 pluck the borrowed veil of nnockesfy from the so seeming 
 Mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and wil- 
 ful Acta?on ; and to these violent proceedings all my 
 neighbours shall cry aim. 
 
 So seeming Mistress Page.] Seeming is s; ecious. So, in K. Lear : 
 " If ought wit;. in that little seeming substance." Stelv. 
 " The so seeming Mistress Page." Notes like this are merely 
 stcming, aud may be considered as an affront to the reader. B. 
 
26X) MERRY WIVES OF WIXDSOK. ACT III. 
 
 Shall cry aim.] i. e. shall encourage. The phrase is taken from 
 archery : Sec a note on the first scene of this act, and another in A. 
 John, Act II. Sc. i. Steev. 
 
 " Shall cry aim." ** Cry aim," is certainly taken from archery. 
 Bui " cry aim " does not appear to he the proper reading here. 
 It is inconsequent. I would, therefore, alter it to " cry aien." 
 To ail this my neighbours will cry " again: " go on thus ; keep t$ 
 this. Aien with old writers is again. 15. 
 
 Fal. Thou hast the right arched bent of the brow, 
 that becomes the ship-tire, the tire valiant, or any tire 
 of Venetian admittance. 
 
 That becomes the ship-tire, the tire-v aliaxt, or any Venetian attire.] 
 The old quarto reads, " tiie-vellet," and the old folio reads, " or any tire 
 of Venetian admittance." So that the true reading of the whole is this, 
 " that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-VALiANT, or any tire of Venetian 
 admittance." The speaker tells his mistress, she had a face that would 
 hecome all the head dresses in fashien. The ship-tire was an open head 
 dress, with a kind of scarf depending from behind. Its name of ship- 
 tire was, I presume, from its giving the wearer some resemblance of a 
 ship (as Shakspeare says) " in all her trim : " with all her pennants out, 
 and flags and streamers flying. 
 
 I suppose Shakspeare wrote tire-vacant. As the ship-tire was an open 
 head-dress, so the tire-vaitant was a close one ; in which the head and 
 breast were covered as with a veil. And these were in fact, the two 
 different head-dresses then in fashion, as we may see by the pictures of 
 that|time i one of which was so open, that the whole neck, breasts, 
 and shoulders, were opened to view : the other, so securely inclosed in 
 kerchiefs, &c. that nothing could be seen above the eyes, or below the 
 chin. Ward. 
 
 Instead of tire-valiant I would read tire-volant. Stubbs, who de- 
 scribes most minutely every article of female dress, has mentioned 
 none of these terms, but speaks of vails depending from the top of the 
 head, and flying behind in loose folds. The word volant was in use be- 
 fore the age of Shakspeare. I find it in Wilfride Hohne's Fall and evil 
 Successe of Rebellion, 1537 : 
 
 " lii^h volant in any thing divine." Steev. 
 
 f That becomes the ship-tire," &ci " Tire-volant" i. e. a flying, 
 or rather streaming head dress, is certainly right. A French wri- 
 ter in his Histoire de Venhe, when speaking of the head-tire of the 
 women, calls it Coeffure Ailte. This reading, " tire volant," (as 
 Venetian attire is spoken of,) will, I think, be admitted. B. 
 
 Fal. I see what thou wert, if fortune thy foe were 
 not ; nature is thy friend : Come, thou canst not hide 
 it. 
 
 Fortune thy foe.] The first and second folio read :— I see what thou 
 wert if Fortune thy foe were not Nature thy Friend. The passage is 
 not in the early quarto. Reed. 
 
 " Fortune thy foe." The folio reading is the true oue. There 
 should be a comma at were. Fahtaff is aiming at a high-strained 
 
A. IV. SC. V. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 26l 
 
 compliment. The meaning is : " Nature is thy friend. Yet had it 
 not been so, and even had fortune been thy foe, I can see what thou 
 would'st be thought of— I can discover the consequence thou 
 vvould'st have in the world, from thy many acquired excellencies." B. 
 
 Ford. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, 
 and such daubery as this is. 
 
 Such daubery.] Dauberies are disguises. So, in King Lear, Edgar says: 
 " I cannot daub it further." Steev. 
 
 " Such daubery." " Daubery " here means foolery. Dauber, 
 fr. to fool, to jeer. It has the same meaning in. Lear. B. 
 
 Ford. You hag, you baggage, you poulcat, you ron- 
 yon ! out ! out ! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you. 
 
 Ronyon !~\ Ronyon, applied to a woman, means, as far as can be traced, 
 much the same with acult or scab spoken of a man. John. 
 
 So, in Macbeth : 
 
 " Aroint thee witch, the rump-fed ronyon cries." 
 From Rogneux, Fr. So, again : " The roj/nish clown," in As you like it. 
 Steev. 
 
 " Ronyon." See note on Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 3. B. 
 
 . Mrs. Ford. Methinks there would be no period to 
 the jest, should he not be publicly sham'd. 
 
 No peiiod.] Shakspeare seems, by no period, to mean, no proper ca- 
 tastrophe. Of this, Hanmer was so well persuaded, that he thinks it ne- 
 cesxary to read, no right period. Steev. 
 
 " i eriod to the jest." — She may mean that he would, if not pub- 
 licly shamed, go on importuning them: that there would be no 
 end to his solicitations for their favors. B. 
 
 Simp. I may not conceal them, sir. 
 Fal. Conceal them, or thou dy'st. 
 
 I may not conceal them, sir. 
 Conceal them, or thou dy'st.] 
 In both these instances Dr. Farmer thinks we should read, reveal. 
 
 Steev. 
 " 1 may not conceal them." There is a quibble here. Simple 
 blunders, and uses conceal instead of reveal. Falstaff catches at it, 
 and says ; " aye conseil them," (conseil Fr.) i. e. advise of them, or 
 thou diest. B. 
 
 Fait. Fat Sir John FalstafT 
 Hath a great scene ; 
 
 Fat Sir John Falstaff.] The words, Sir John, which are not in the first 
 folio, were arbitrarily inserted in the second, to supply the metre. The 
 corresponding passage in the early quarto, " Whereon fat Falstaff hath a 
 
Q,fyl MERRV WIVES OF WINDSOR. ACT V. 
 
 mighty scarre" (a misprint for scene), renders it highly prohable that thft 
 omitted word was that above prmlud in Italics. 1 would therefore read, 
 Without the show of both ; zcherein fat Falstaff 
 Hath a great scene; Mai. 
 
 Sir John Falstaff 
 
 Haih a great scene ; the image of the jest 
 I'll show you at large. 
 A similar illusion to a custom still in use. of hanging out paintc? 
 representations of shows, occurs in Bussy d'An/bois : 
 
 " The witch policy makes him like a monster 
 " Kept only to show men for goddesse money : 
 " That false hagge often paints him in her cloth 
 "Ten times more monstrous than he is in troth." Hef. 
 *' Fat Sir John Falstaff." " Scene" is very awkward here. "Scarre," 
 with the earlier writers, is interest, share, or concern in. " Wherein 
 fat Falstaff hath a mighty scarre," i.e. a business iu which Fal- 
 staffis deeply concerned. B. 
 
 Fent. He shall likewise shuffle her away, 
 While other sports are tasking of their minds, 
 
 Tasking of their minds.] So, in another play of our author: 
 
 " some things of weight ,- 
 
 " That tusk our thoughts concernirg us and France." Steev. 
 "Tasking their minds." Tasking here means engaging, taking 
 up the whole of their attention. In the line, 
 
 " That task our thoughts concerning us and France," 
 task has its ordinary sense of -something imposed, something which 
 must be done. B. 
 
 Fent. Quaint in green, she shall be loose enrob'd, 
 With ribbands pendant, flaring 'bout her head ; 
 
 Quaint in green,J may mean fantastically drest in green. So, in 
 Milton's Masque at Ludlow Castle : 
 
 " lest the place, 
 
 " And this quaint habit, breed astonishment." 
 Qudintness, however, was anciently used to signify gracefulness. In the 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, act hi. sc. 1. quaintly is used for ingeniously : 
 
 " ladder quaintly made ol cords." Steev. 
 
 In Daniel's bonnets, 1594, it is used to- fantastic. 
 
 Prayers prevail not with a quaint disdayne. Mal. 
 " Quaint in green." " Quaint " in this place is nicely, neatly. 
 Coint, old French. B. 
 
 FaL Away, I say ; time wears : hold up your head, 
 and mince. 
 
 Hold up your head, and mince.] To mince is to walk with affected de- 
 licacy. So, in the Merchant of V enice : 
 
 " turn two mincing steps 
 
 " Into a manly stride." Stkev. 
 " Hold up your head and mince.'' " Mince" must here mean 
 sojten, palliate the matter, should it get wind. What has Falstaff to 
 
SCENE V, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 2tf8 
 
 do with ber manner of walking ? We now say mince the matter. B. 
 Quick. Fairies use flowers for their character)'. 
 
 Character^.] For the matter with which they make letters. John. 
 
 So, in another of our author's plays : 
 
 " All the character!/ of my sad hrows." 
 i. e. all that seems to be written on them. Steev. 
 
 " Cbaractery." Rather, their distinguishing marks, their insig- 
 nia. B. 
 
 Fal. Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me : use me 
 as you will. 
 
 Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me.] Though this be perhaps not un- 
 intelligible, yet it is an odd way of confessing his dejection. I should 
 wish to read : 
 
 — ignorance itself has a plume o' me : 
 That is, I am so depressed, that ignorance itself plucks me, and decks 
 itself with the spoils of my weakness. Of the present reading, which is 
 probably right, the meaning may be, I am so enfeebled, that ignorance 
 itself' weighs me down and oppresses me. John. 
 
 " Ignorance itself," says FalstafT, " is a. plummet o'er me." If any al- 
 teration be necessary, I think, "Ignorance itself is a planet o'er me," 
 would have a chance to be right. Thus Bobadil excuses his cowardice. 
 "Sure I was struck with a planet, for I had no power to touch my 
 weapon.'' Farm. 
 
 Perhaps FalstafFs meaning may be this : " Ignorance itself is a plum* 
 met o'er me," i. e. above me ; Ignorance itself is not so low as 1 am, by 
 the length of a plummet line. Tyrw. 
 
 If plume be the true reading, FalstafT, I suppose, meant to say, that 
 even ignorance, however heavy, could soar above him. Hal. 
 
 " A plummet over me," is a very leaden reading indeed ! FalstafT 
 certainly means, that ignorance triumphs over him. We must there- 
 fore read plumet, Fr. a garland. " Ignorance ttself is a plumet o'ei 
 ine," i. c. ignorance u^ears the garland. B. 
 
^itJgummer*Jl5igi)fs apream* 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 The Palace of Theseus in Athens. 
 
 This play was entered at Stationers' Hall, Oct. 8, 1600, by Thomas 
 Fisher. It is probable that the hint for it was received from Chaucer's 
 Knight's Tule. Thence it is, that our author speaks of Theseus as duke 
 of Athens. The tale begins thus : 
 
 " Whilom as old stories tellen us, 
 " There was a J)uk that highle Theseus, 
 
 "Of Athenes he was lord and governour,&c." Late edit. v. 861. 
 Lidgate too, the monk of Bury, in his translation of the Tragedies of John 
 Bochas, calls him by the same title, chap. xii. 1. 21. 
 " Duke Theseus had the victorye." 
 Creon, in the tragedy of Jocasta, translated from Euripides in 1566, is 
 called Duke Creon : 
 So likewise Skelton ; 
 
 " Not lyke Duke Hamilcar, 
 " Nor lyke Duke Asdruball." 
 Stanyhurst, in his translation of Virgil, calls iEneas, Duke iEneas ; and 
 in Hey wood's Iron Age, 2d Pait, 1632, Ajax is styled Duke Ajax, Pala- 
 medes, Duke Pdamedes, and Nestor, Duke Nestor, &c. Steev 
 
 " Theseus Duke of Athens." It appears necessary to inform Mr. 
 Steevens, that " Duke," in the several instances which he has 
 quoted, is not the Duke, i.e. one of the order of nobility in Eng- 
 land, as he evidently thinks; but the dux of the Latius, which signifies 
 king, or a chief, a commander, whether by land or sea. Duke is 
 therefore every way proper. In the vulgar translation of the Bible, 
 duke is used for the mighty, the powerful man. B. 
 
 The. But, oh, methinks, how slow 
 This old moon wanes ! she lingers my desires, 
 
ACT I. SC. I. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 26\5 
 
 Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, 
 
 Long withering out a young man's revenue. 
 
 Long withering orT a voting mail's revenue.] So, in Chapman's trans- 
 lation of the 4th B. of H mer : 
 
 " — there the goodly plant lies withering out his grace." Steev. 
 
 We should read " Inhering," i. e. lingering, or lingeringlv. Ap- 
 portioning, or dealing out slowly. The expression is therefore apt 
 and pertinent. That a plant may lie withering, we want not to be 
 told. But when Mr. Steevens has discovered that Shakspeare wrote 
 withering (which, by the way, Shakspeare certainly did not,) and 
 lias also found out, that the word is made use of by another, he 
 immediately brings it to illustrate his author, and without attending 
 in the least to the sense. Lit her is idle, lazy, sluggish. B. 
 
 The. Yea, and one 
 To whom you are but as a form in wax, 
 By hi in imprinted, and within his power 
 To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 
 
 To y<m your father should be as a god, 
 
 One who compos'd your beauties; yea, and one, 
 
 To whom you ate but as a form in wax, 
 
 By him imprinted, and within his power 
 
 To leave the figure, or disfigure it.] We should read : 
 To 'leve the figure, &c. 
 i. e. relevc, to heighten or add r.. the beauty of the figure, which is said 
 to be imprinted by him. Tis from the French relever. Thus they say, 
 Tapisseries rcltvi.es d'or. Io the same sense they use en/ever, which 
 Maundeville makes Enjhsh of in this manner. — " And all the wallet 
 withinne ben covered with gold and sylver, in fyn plates : and in the plates 
 ben stories and batuylcs of Knightes enleved." p. 228 Warb. 
 
 I know not why so harsh a word should be admitted with so little 
 need; a word that, spoken, could not be understood, and of which no 
 example can be shown. The sense is plain, you one to your father a being 
 ■which he may at pleasure continue or destroy. John. 
 
 " Lave" is the proper word. To lave, is a term of art in paint- 
 ing, and signifies to embellish, to beautify. B. 
 
 Her. Belike, for want of rain ; which I could well 
 Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. 
 
 Beteem them — ] Give them, bestow upon them. The word is used by 
 Spender. John. 
 
 To " beteem," is to bring forth, to grow. We should read, 
 
 " Yet could I well 
 
 " Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes." 
 i. e. yet could I with my tears cause them to grow or flourish. B. 
 
 Her O cross ! too high to be enthrall'd to low ! 
 
 Too high to be enthrall'd to love.] This reading possesses all the edi- 
 tions, but carries no just meaning in it. Nor was Htrmia displeased at 
 being in love ; but regrets the inconveniences that generally attend the 
 
£66 midsummer-night's dream. act i. 
 
 passion : either, the parties are disproportioned, in degree of blood and 
 quality; or unequal, in respect, of years; or brought together by the 
 appointment of friends, and not by their own choice. These are the 
 complaints represented by Lysander ; and Hermia, to answer to the first, 
 as she has done to the other two, must necessarily say : 
 
 " O cross ! — too high to be enlhrall'd to low !" 
 So the antithesis is kept up in the terms; and so she is made to condole 
 the disproportion ol blood and qualify in lovers. Theob. 
 
 "To be enlhrall'd to low," as proposed by Theobald, is very un- 
 meaning. I think, indeed, that he is right in changing love to low 
 — to low, however, should be too low. A transposition is likewise 
 necessary. I read and print—" O cross, to be enthrall'd ! too high, 
 too low." This, by a periphrasis, may be explained — " O how vex- 
 atious is it to be in love ! There is ever some inequality either ifl 
 birth or riches." B. 
 
 Lys. Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; 
 Brief as the lightning in the colly'd night, 
 That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
 
 Brief us the lightning in the colly d night, 
 
 That, in a spleen, unfolds, both heaven and earth, 
 
 And ere a man hath power to soy, — Behold ! 
 
 The jaws of darkness do devour it up :] 
 Though the word spleen be here employed oddly enough, yet I believe it 
 right. Shakspeare, always hurried on by the grandeur and multitude of 
 his ideas, assumes, every now and then, an uncommon licence in the 
 use of his words. Particularly in complex moral modes it is usual with 
 him to employ one, only to express a very few ideas of that number of 
 which it is composed. Thus wanting here to express the ideas — of a 
 sudden, or — in a trice, he uses the word spleen ; which, partially consi- 
 dered, signifying a hasty sudden fit, is enough for him, and he never 
 troubles nimself about the further or fuller signification of the word. 
 Here, he uses the word spleen for a sudden hasty fit ; so just the contrary, 
 in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, he uses sudden, for splenetic — sudden 
 quips. And it must be owned this sort of conversation adds a force to the 
 diction. Warb. 
 
 It is scarcely possible that spleen should be right. I read shene, 
 i. e. shining, Chauc. Spens. Shakspeare uses it as a substantive,—* 
 Jlash, sudden blaze. B. 
 
 Hel. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, 
 The rest I'll give to be to you translated, 
 
 To be to you translated.] To translate, in our author, sometimes signi T 
 fies to change, to transform. So, in Timon : 
 
 " -. to present slaves and servants 
 
 " Translates his rivals." Steev. 
 
 " To be to you translated !" To "translate" is no doubt to change, 
 to remove. So we talk of translating a bishop to another see; but 
 to translate, is certainly not to transform, whatever Mr. Steevens 
 may advance in respect to it, since to transform can sigi ify no- 
 thing but to metamorphose, to change the external shape : and no 
 such sense can be given to Helena's expression, which scarcely any 
 
SCENE II. MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. $67 
 
 one indeed can mistake. Mr. S. has somewhere observed that his 
 notes may tend, perhaps, to render his author obscure ; and lie 
 appears to know his own talent a mtrveillc. B. 
 
 — o 
 
 Bot. Yet my chief humour is for a tyraut : I could 
 play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make 
 all split. 
 
 I could play Ercles rarely, or a pait to tear a cat in.] In the old 
 comedy of the Roaring Girt, 1011. there is a character called Tear-cat, 
 who says: " I am called, by those who have seen toy valour, Teai-cat." 
 In an anonymous piece called htistriomualtx, or The i layer Whipt, 1610. 
 in six acts, a parcel of soldiers difeg a company of plavers on the stage, 
 and the captain savs: " Sirrah, this is you that would rend and tear a 
 cat upon a stage," &e. Ag-dii, in The Isle of Gulls, a comedy by J. 
 Day, 1606 : " I had rather hear two such jes's, than a whole play of 
 such l\ar-cat thunderclaps." Sti f.v. 
 
 " A part to tear a cat in " The sense is wholly mistaken hv the 
 editors. It is not the domestic animal the cat, which is spoken of. 
 For what can possibly be understood of " a part to trar a cat in?" 
 We must read : " a part to tear : a calin." " To tear," is to rant, 
 to bluster. Catin is a french word signifying a drab, a low, vulgar 
 woman. A is the french particle which has the power of the 
 adverb like. The whole will run thus: " My chief humor is for a 
 tyrant. I could play Ercbs rarely, or a part in v»hich I might 
 rant and bluster like a very drab, a common roarer." Hamlet, we 
 may remember, says; 
 
 " Must I unpack my heart with words, 
 
 " And fall a railing like a very drab." 
 In the quotations in which tear cat appears, it should he noted that 
 cut is contracted of catm. Thus, in the Comedy of the Roaring 
 Girl, Tear -cat, [roaring woman] the name of a character of the 
 play. It must not be objected that tear-cat is, iu some of the 
 pieces, a male character. A man may be said to rant or rail like a 
 drab, a common woman — and we have an example of it in the 
 lines from Hamlet. B. 
 
 Snug. Have you the lion s part written ? pray you, if 
 it be, give it me, for 1 am slow of study. 
 
 S'ota of study.] Study is si.il! the cant term used in a theatre, for 
 getting any nonsense by rote. Hamlet asks the placer if he can " study" 
 a speech. Steev. 
 
 " Slow of study." What can be meant by this (and according 
 to the vulgar acceptation of the term i impcr tinent note I As the 
 player must be perfect in his part, he is necessarily obliged to 
 study it, however yreat the nonsense may be : nay, such must be 
 the case were he even required to imprint on his memory the anno- 
 tations of Mr. Steevens. B. 
 
268 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. ACT II. 
 
 Qirin. At the duke's oak we meet. 
 
 Pot. Enough ; Hold, or cut bow-strings. 
 
 At the Duke's oak we meet — hold, or cut bow-stringsTj This proverbial 
 phrase cane originally from the camp. When a rendezvous was ap- 
 pointed, the militia soldiers would frequently make excuse for not keep- 
 ing word, that their bowstrings were brake, i. e. their arms unserviceable. 
 Hence when one would give another absolute assurance of meeting him, 
 he would say proverbially — hold or cut bow-strings — i. e, whether the 
 how-strings held or broke. For cut is used as a neuter, like the verb 
 frets. As when we say, the string frets, the silk Jrets, for the passive,. 
 it is cut or fretted. Warb. 
 
 This interpretation is very ingenious, but somewhat disputable. The 
 excuse made by the militia soldiers is a mere supposition, without proof; 
 and it is well known that while bows were in u>e, no archer ever entered 
 the field without a supply of strings in his pocket ; whence originated 
 the proverb, " to have two strings to one's bow." Steev. 
 
 " Hold, or cut bow-strings." Perhaps it is used proverbially for 
 to mar, to destroy. " Keep all to this, or we shall have our bow- 
 strings cut — all will be spoilt. We shall not be able to ploy." 
 Bow-strings are here the strings of the fidler's bow, and not those 
 belonging to the bow of the soldier or the archer. Flute says of 
 one of his brethren in a subsequent scene ; " If he come not the 
 play is marred" B. 
 
 Puck. The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 
 Sometime for three-foot stool inistaketh me. 
 
 The wisest aunt.] Aunt is procuress. In Gascoigne's Glass of Go- 
 vernment, 1575, the bawd Pandarina is always cailed aunt. " These 
 are aunts of Antwerp, which can make twenty marriages in one week 
 for their kinswomen." See Winter's Ta/e, Act IV. Sc. i. Among Ray's 
 proverbial phrases is the following. '"She is one of mine aunts that 
 made mine uncle 10 go a begging." The wisest aunt may mean the most 
 sentimental bawd. Stee.v. 
 
 The author of The Remarks says : " This conjecture is much too wan- 
 ton and injurious to the word aunt, which in this place at least certainly 
 means no other than an " innocent old woman." Ed. 
 
 " Aunt" — this word should be written aunct — abbreviation of 
 auncient. It means an old person, man or woman. B. 
 
 Puck, Down topples she, 
 
 And taylor cries, and falls into a cough : 
 And then the whole quire. hold their hips, and loffe, 
 
 And taylor crirs.] The custom of crying taylor at a sudden fall 
 backwards, I think I remember to have observed. He that slips 
 beside his chair, falls as a taylor squats upon his board. The Oxford 
 editor, and Dr. Warburton after him, read and rails or cries, plausibly, 
 but I believe not rightly. Besides, the trick of the fairy is represented 
 as producing rather merriment than anger. John. 
 
 " And taylor cries." We must read " Tailloir cries. " Tailloir 
 is a term in architecture, and signifies the square stone or base- 
 ment belonging to the capital of a pillar. The meaning of tailloir 
 
SCENE II. MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. £6.9 
 
 cries, is : The architecture is bad — the building gives way. The 
 context will show that this is right. B. 
 
 Quern. The human mortals want their winter here. 
 
 The human mortals,] Shakspeare might bave employ'd this epithet, 
 which, at first sight, appears redundant, to mark the difference between 
 men and fairies. Fairies were not human, but they were yet sutject to 
 mortality. Sieev. 
 
 The human mortals want their v inter HERB.] But sure it was not one 
 of the circumstances of misery, here recapitulated, that the sufferers 
 wanted their winter. On the contrary, in the poetical descriptions of 
 the golden age, it was always one circumstance of their happiness that 
 they wanted winter. This is an idle blunder of the editors. Shakspeare 
 w ithout question wrote : 
 
 " The human mortals want their winter HF.RYr.n," 
 i. e. praised, celebrated. The wort! is obsolete ; but used both by 
 Chaucer and Spenser in this signification : 
 
 " Tho' wouldest thou learne to caroll of love, 
 " And Hr.Rv with uvmnes thy lassie's glove." Spenc. Cal. Feb. 
 The following line confirms the emendation. 
 
 " No night is now with Hymn or Carol blest ;'' 
 and the propriety of the sentiment is evident. For the winter is the 
 season of rural rejoicing, as the gloominess of it and its vacancy from 
 country labors, give them the inclination and opportunity for mirth; and 
 the fruits, now gathered in, the means. Well, therefore, might she say, 
 when she had described the dearths of the seasons and fruitless toil of 
 the husbandmen, that 
 
 " The human mortals want their winter heryed." 
 But, principally, since the coming of Chris! ianity, this season, in com- 
 memoration of the birth of Christ, has been particularly devoted to 
 festivity. And to this custom, notwithstanding the impropriety, hymn 
 or carol bletf, certainly alludes. Mr. Theobald says : " he should un- 
 doubtedly have advanced this conjecture into the text, but that Shaks- 
 peare seems rather fond of hallowed." Ruther than what? hulloued is 
 not synonymous to htryed, but to blest. What was he thinking of? The 
 ambiguity of the English word blest confounded him, which signifies 
 either prais'd or sanctified. Warb. 
 
 After all the endeavours of the editors, this passage still remains to 
 me unintelligible. I cannot see why winter is, in the genera confusion 
 of the year now described, more wanted than any other season. Dr. 
 Warburton observes that he alludes to our practice of singing carols in 
 December ; but though Shakspeare is no great chronologer in his dra- 
 mas, I think he has never so mingled true and false religion, as to give 
 us reason for believing that he would make the moon incensed for the 
 omission of our carols. I therefore imagine him to have meant heathen 
 rites of adoration. This is not all the difficulty. Titania's account of 
 this calamity is not sufficiently consequential. "Men find no winter," 
 therefore they sing no hymns: the moon provoked by this omission, 
 alters the seasons: that is, the alteration of the seasons produces the 
 alteration of the seasons. I am far from supposing that Shakspeare 
 might not sometimes think confusedly, and therefore am not suie that 
 the passage is corrupted. If we should read : 
 
 " And human mortals want their wonted year? 
 yet will not this licence of alteration much mend the narrative; the 
 cause and the effect are still confounded. John - . 
 
 1 think we ought to read : 
 
270 MIDSUMMER NIGHt's DREAM. ACT II. 
 
 The human mortals want their winter cheer. 
 according to sirT. Haumer's correction, suggested by Theobald. Tyrwh. 
 
 The repeated adveib therefore, throughout this speech, I suppose to 
 have constant reference to tlu; first time when it is used. — All these irre- 
 gularities of season, happened in consequence of the dUagreem en t be- 
 tween the king and queen of the fairies, and not in consequence of each 
 other. — Ideas crowded fast on Shakspeare ; and as he committed them to 
 paper, he did notatl<-nd to the distance of the leading object from which 
 they took their rise. — Mr. Malone concurs with me on this occasion. 
 
 Steev. 
 
 'The human mortals want their wiuterhere.' ' Human mortals' is no 
 doubt used by Titania for the ordinary race of men, in contradistinc- 
 tion to fairies, who were subject to death, though they had not the 
 failings of humanity. The construction is not that winter is want- 
 ed, but that mankind want. I read the line as follows — (' Hecr' is 
 harsh, severe ) 
 
 ' The human mortals want: their winter heer.' 
 i. e. " Men are greatly in want : their winter [being] severe." That 
 this is the true sense of the passage, an attention to the circum- 
 stances enumerated in the immediately preceding lines will shew. 
 ' The green corn hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard.' ' The 
 crows are fatted with the murrain flock,' etc. &c. Hence, the inha- 
 bitants are distressed, they are in want: their winter [being likewise] 
 heer — i. e. hard, rigorous. 
 
 Mr. Malone is right iu saying that the illative ' therefore^ 
 isemployed in reference to the dissensions of the King and Queen: 
 but in other respects he is evidently wrong. The interpretation of 
 the whole is easy. Oberon and Titania quarrel ; and what are the 
 consequences ? — why — 1. The elements are so disturbed as nearly 
 to lay waste the country : and by it, the people are in actual want. 
 2. Their nights are no longer blest with hymn or carol. 3. The 
 moon in her anger, causes such humidity of the atmosphere that 
 diseases abound. The Queen then speaks of the changes made in 
 the character of the seasons by the distemperature of the air, &c. : 
 which changes have from time to time been particularly observable, 
 and which are to be considered as a farther consequence of ther* 
 repeated brawls. Thus all proceeds regularly, and a sufficiently 
 logical deduction is found : though the expression may not perhaps 
 be the clearest and best. 
 
 It may indeed be objected by some who are not sufficiently at- 
 tentive to the text, that the season cannot be called heer or rigorous, 
 when it is remarked immediately after, that a chaplet of summer 
 buds is placed on Hyems' head. But Titania speaks not of one single 
 effect of their dissension, but of several, and at different times, as the 
 word * therefore' particularly shews. At one time the winter is 
 severe, and the people in want : at another the seasons change,. 
 &c. B. 
 
 Queen. On old Hyems' chin, and icy crown, 
 An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
 Is, as in mockery, set. 
 
SCENE II. MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM. 271 
 
 — Hyems' chin, Dr. Grey, not inelegantly, conjectures, that the poet 
 ^Vrote : 
 
 " — on old Hyems' < hill and icy crown." 
 It is not indeed easy to discover how a chaplet can be placed on the 
 chin. Stef.v. 
 
 It should rather be for thin, i. e. thin-hair'd. Tyuwh. 
 
 ' And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown.' ' Chin* should un- 
 doubtedly be struck from the text, though I do not think that the 
 alteration proposed by either commentator will be right. I read 
 and interpret as follows: 
 
 " And on old Hyems' icy cinic, a crown, 
 " An odorous chaplet, cVc." 
 Cime is a Irene h word signifying top (la cime de la montagne). 
 • Crown' in this place, is not the crown cf the head, but a wreath, 
 a garland. The justness and propriety of the allusion to the icy top 
 of a hill or mountain, is evident. After having used crown, he adds 
 an odorous chaplet ; in order to shew that by it, nothing like the 
 princely ornament, the diadem, is to be understood. Crown and 
 chaplet are here the same : but this is what Or. Johnson would call 
 an " elegant redundancy," and such, indeed, as is found in the best 
 writers. B. 
 
 Queen. We have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, 
 And grow big bellied, with the wanton wind : 
 Which she, with pretty and with swimming gate, 
 (Following her womb then rich with my young squire) 
 Would imitate ; and sail upon the l<lnd ; 
 To fetch me trifles. 
 
 Which she with pity and uith Swimming gate 
 Following (her ziorabtheu rich with my young 'squire) 
 Would imitate 
 
 Following what ? she did not follow the ship, whose motion she imitated; 
 
 for that sailed on the water, she on the land. If by following, we are to 
 
 understand imitating, it will be a mere p\eon&sm-*-imitating would imitate. 
 
 From the poet's description of the actions, it plainly appears we should 
 
 read ; 
 
 FOLLY ING 
 
 Would im. t ate ; 
 i. e. wantoning in ^port and gaiety. Thus the old English writers — 
 " and they bceleven- folyi.y and Jalsly,"— — says Sir J. ^Jaimdeville, 
 from and in the sense offol&trer, to play the wanton. This exactly agree.s 
 
 to the action described -Jull often has she gossip'd by my side — and — when 
 
 we have laugh'd to see. Wakh. 
 
 The foregoing note is very ingenious, but since Jollying is a word of 
 which I know not any example, and the Fairy's favorite might, without 
 much licentiousness of language, he said tc\/'o/<Waship that sailed in the 
 direction of the coast ; I think there is no sufficient reason for adnpting 
 it. The coinage of new words is a violent remedy, not to be used but in 
 the last necessity. John. 
 
 ' Which she with pretty and with swimming gate 
 Following, &c.' 
 
2712 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. ACT III. 
 
 Johnson's objection to Jollying is without weight. I would wil- 
 lingly receive the word, but that 1 think we may better read, as bein;j 
 uearer to the expression in the text, 
 ' Her following womb, &c.' 
 
 * Fellowing' in the sense of fellow to, or such as might be 
 compared with the sail, when swollen by the wind. B. 
 
 Ob. I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
 Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; 
 Quite over-canopy 'd with luscious woodbine, 
 With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine: 
 
 Where oxlips— — The oxlip is the greater cowslip. 
 So, iii Drayton's Poiyolbion, Song 15 : 
 
 " To sort these flowers or showe, with other that were sweet, - 
 
 " The co'vslip then they couch, and th' oxlip fur her meet." Steev. 
 
 Quite over-canopy 1 d with luscious woodbine. Thus all the old editions. 
 On the margin of one of my folios an unknown hand has written lush 
 woodbine, which 1 think is right. 
 
 This hand I have since discovered to be Theobald's. John. 
 
 'Luscious woodbine.' — ' Luscious' is not the proper word. It 
 signifies sweet, indeed, and the woodbine is said to be sweet, but this, 
 as every one knows, is meant of the smell, and luscious will only 
 apply to the sense which we denominate taste. But it is not the 
 fragrance of the flower which is spoken of. Lush is undoubtedly 
 right, but the reader should be made acquainted with its meaning, 
 luxuriant, and which is happily descriptive of the plant in question : 
 the " flaunting honey-suckle," as the Poet elsewhere expresses 
 it. B. 
 
 Snout, By'rlakin, a parlous fear. 
 
 Parlous, a word corrupted from perilous, i. e. dangerous. So Phaer and 
 Twyne translate Virg. JLn. lib. vii. 302 : 
 
 " What good did Scylla me r What could prevail Charybdis wood ? 
 
 " Or Sirtes parlous sands." Steev. 
 
 " Parlous" is frequently used for perilous, but it is not employed 
 in that sense here. We cannot well read, a perilous fear. Parlous 
 is peerless, as well as dangerous, and will therefore signify, in this 
 place, very great. If, however, we read parlous feat, which I think 
 is rather to be preferred, it will mean a dangerous undertaking. B. 
 
 This. Of color like the red rvse on triumphant brier, 
 Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew. 
 
 Juvenal, i. e. young man. So FalstafT, " — the juvenal thy master. 
 Steev. 
 
 " Juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew." " Jew/ " an abbreviation 
 
 of jewel. It should be printed " jew' " to mark the contraction. 
 B. 
 
SCENE II. MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 273 
 
 Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your pa- 
 tience well. 
 
 Patience. The Oxford edition reads, / know your parentage well. I 
 believe the correction is right. John. 
 
 Bv patience is meant, standing still in a mustard pot to be eaten with 
 the beef, on which it was a constant attendant. Coll. 
 
 " Patience." " By patience is meant, standing still in a mustard 
 pot : " so says the sagacious Mr. Collins. But this Mr. C. is evi- 
 dently no other than Mr. Steevens himself — "the same for ever!" 
 1o borrow an hemistich from Pope. Yes, the like happiness ot 
 thought and expression at all times — " Night as obscure as a dark 
 corner " — " ribbjld-rui nag," &c. &c. It was once imagined that 
 the Poet had drawn a tolerable picture of patience : 
 " She pin'd in thought, — 
 " And sat, like patience on a monument, 
 " Smiling at grief." 
 But what is this, when compared with the noble imagery exhibited by 
 Mr. S. ? — "Patience, standing still in a mustard pot." Alas! 
 poor Shakspeare ! — hide, hide thy diminished head. But though 
 the grandeur of the idea must astonish us, there is vet a fault iu 
 the expression : for whether it be patience or the mustard-pot that 
 is to be *' eaten with the beef," remains doubtful. There can be 
 no kind of question, however, but that it was so intended of one 
 or the other. The reader may employ his penetration in the mat- 
 ter, if he please. Treve de plaisanterie. " Patience," is right. 
 It is spoken ironically, and in allusion to the hot and biting quality 
 of mustard. B. 
 
 Puck. Anon, his Thisby must be answered, 
 And forth my minnock comes. 
 
 Minnock. This is the reading of the old quarto, and I believe right. 
 Minnekin, now minx, is a nice triHing girl. Minnock is apparently a 
 word of contempt. John. 
 
 The folio reads mimmick ; perhaps for mimick, a word more familial 
 than that exhibited by one of the quartos, for the other reads, tninnick. 
 Sttev. 
 
 " Minnock." I believe minnick, i. e. minikin, will be the right 
 word. It seems' to be used for any thing proverbially small or tri- 
 fling. He afterwards uses minimus, by way of coutempt. B. 
 
 Don. That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, 
 Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow, 
 \V lien thou hold'st up thy hand : O, let me hiss 
 This princess of pure' white, this seal of bliss ! 
 
 This princess of pure while. Thus all the editions to Sir T. Hanmer's. 
 He reads : 
 
 * This pttreness of pure white ; " 
 and Dr. Warburton follows nun. Steev. 
 
 Shak. I. S 
 
274 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. ACT IV. 
 
 " O, l«t me kiss 
 " This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! " 
 I would regulate the passage thus : 
 
 " This let me kiss 
 " Thou princess of pure white — O seal of bliss ! " 
 i. e. " let me kiss thy hand, peerless princess as thou art." He 
 does so, and then exclaims: " O seal of bliss ! ? B. 
 
 Hel. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
 But you must join, in souls, to mock me too ? 
 
 Join in touts, i. e. join heartily, unite in the same mind. Shaks- 
 peare in Henry V. uses an expression not unlike this : 
 
 " For we will hear, note, and believe in heart." 
 Sir T. Hanmer wovdd read— m Jiovts ; Dr. Warburton, insolent!. Steev. 
 
 I rather believe the line should be read thus : 
 
 " But you must join, ill souls, to mock me too ? " 
 III is often used for bad, zcicked. So, in the Sea Voyage «f Beaumont 
 and Fletcher, Act IV. Sc. 1. : 
 
 " They did begin to quarrel like ill men ;" 
 which I cite the rather, because ill had there also been changed into in, 
 by an error of the press, which Mr. Sympson has corrected from the 
 edition, 1647. Tyrw. 
 
 This is a very reasonable conjecture, though I think it hardly right. 
 John. 
 
 " Join in souls/' A butter reading, and nearer to the text, 
 (which, indeed, we should at all times study) will be " in soutk," 
 i. e. in a state of wretchedness. " Wretched, as I am, will you 
 mock me ? " Sou'k is the old word for wretched. As to the pas- 
 sages brought in support of " in souls," it is not always the English 
 word soul that is to be understood, but the French soul i.e. full, 
 complete. Thu3 — "Happy in soul only, by winning her," is: 
 fully, completely happy in gaining her. B. 
 
 T>em. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, 
 Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. 
 
 Lest to thi/ peril thou aby it dear." The folio has abide. Mal. 
 
 " Thou aby it dear." " Aby " should be " abay." 
 " Lest thou abay it dear." 
 i. e. Lest thou suffer for it greatly. Abay is a Law term, signifying 
 to suffer. B. 
 
 Queen. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. 
 Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. 
 
 In the former editions — and be always away. What ! was she giving 
 her attendants an everlasting dismission ? No such thing; they were to 
 be still upon duty. I am convinced the poet meant ; . 
 
 " and be all zcays away." 
 
 i.e. disperse yourselves, and scout out severally, in your watch, that 
 danger approach us from no quarter. Theob. 
 
SCENE I. MIDSUMMER N"IGIIT"s DUE AM. 27«5 
 
 Mr. Upton reads : 
 
 • " And be awny — away." John. 
 
 Mr. Heath would read : and be always i' tli way. Stezv. 
 
 " Always away " is right. It means not that the fairies were 
 never to return, but tb.it they should not presume to disturb Bot- 
 tom — that during his repose they should keep ale >f. 
 
 The expression is according to the idiom of the French — Voila 
 roes ordres ; restez toujours a Paris. — 5 his is by no means to signify 
 that the person so enjoined should never return from Paris, but 
 that he should make it his principal place ©f residence — that he 
 should remain there until he was recalled. B. 
 
 Queen. So doth the woodbine, the sweet honey-suckle, 
 Gently entwist, — the female ivy so 
 Enrings the barky fingers of the eltn. 
 
 S.) doth the woodbine thv. sweet honeysuckle 
 
 Gently entwist ; the female ivy so 
 
 Enrings the barky finders of' the elm. 
 What does the woodbine entwist ? The honey-suckle. But the woodbine 
 ami honeysuckle were, till now, but two names for one and the same 
 plant. Flonio, in his Italian Dictionary, interprets Madre Selva by 
 woodbine or honnie-suckle. We must therefore find a support for the 
 noodbine as well as for the ivy. Which is done by reading the lines thus : 
 
 " So doth the woodbine, the sweet honey-suckle, 
 
 " Gently entwist the maple; ivy so 
 
 ■" Enrings the barky ringers of the elm." 
 The corruption might happen by the first blunderer dropping the p in 
 writing the word maple, which word thence became male. A following 
 transcriber, for the sake of a little sense and measure, thought fit to 
 change this mule into female ; and then tacked it as an epithet to ivy. 
 Wap.b. 
 Mr. Upton reads : 
 
 " So doth the woodrine the sweet. honey suck)?," 
 for bark of the wood. Shakspeare, perhaps, only meant, so the leaves 
 involve the Sower, using woodbine for the plant, and honey-suckle for the 
 flower ; or perhaps Shakspeare made a blunder. John. 
 
 " So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle," &c. The 
 commentators have mistaken the meaning of the poet, which is not 
 that the woodbine entwisls the honey-suckle, (the woodbine and 
 honey-suckle being one and the same) but that the woodbine or 
 honey suckle has simply the property of en.livisting or twining 
 round. Titania says : ** Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my 
 arms." " In like manner," continues the, " the woodbine, the 
 honey-suckle, will entwist." She next illustrates it by an example: 
 " the female ivy so," &c. The setting down the agent without the 
 patient has deceived the editors in the first instance. There is 
 nothing wrong. B. 
 
 Ob. Then, my queen, in silence sad, 
 Trip wc after the night's shade. 
 
276 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. ACT IV. 
 
 Thru, my queen, in silence sad, 
 
 Trip we after the night's shade. 
 Mr. Theobald says, " why sari t Fairies are pleased to follow night." 
 He will have it fade ; and so, to mend the rhyme, spoils both the sense 
 and grammar. But ho mistakes the meaning of sad ; it signifies only 
 grave, sober; and is opposed to their dances and revels, which were 
 now ended at the singing of the morning lark. So, Winter's Tale, Act 
 iv : " My lather and the gentlemen are in sad talk." For grave or serious. 
 
 Wai'.B. 
 
 "Then, my queen, in silence sad." Theobald's correction is a 
 good one. " In silence fade : " i. e. " vanish in silence." We find 
 in Hamlet : 
 
 " It faded [vanished] at the crowing of the cock." 
 Warburton censures Theobald as though " fade" were used by hirn 
 as an adjective, (fade silence) but fade is clearly a verb : go, 
 vanish. B. 
 
 Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye, 
 When every thing seems double. 
 
 Hel. So, methinks : 
 And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, 
 Mine own, and not mine own. 
 
 And I hare found Demetrius like a jewel, 
 
 Mine own, and not mine. own. 
 Hermia had observed that things appeared double to her. Helena replies, 
 so methinks; and then subjoins, that Demetrius was like a jewel, her 
 own and not her own. He is here, then, compared to something which 
 had the property of appearing to be one thing when it was another. 
 Not the property sure of a jewel : or, if you will, of none but a false 
 one. We should read : 
 
 " And I have found Demetrius like a gemell, 
 
 " Mine own, and not mine own." 
 From Gemellus, a twin. For Demetrius had that night acted two such 
 different parts, that she could hardly think them both played by one and 
 the same Demetrius; but that there were twin Demetriuses like the 
 two Sosias in the farce. Ward. 
 This emendation is ingenious enough to deserve to be true. John. 
 " And I have found Demetrius like a jewel." Warburton's 
 reading is ingenious, but I am persuaded that it is not right. I 
 read : 
 
 " And I have found Demetrius like a Guille : 
 " Mine own, and not mine own." 
 i. e. " All appears to me like deception ; or a juggle ; now here, 
 now gone." Gville is an old French word for deception, trick. 
 It may be conceived how readily a person unacquainted with the 
 French language, might, in reading Shakspeare, and dictating to a 
 transcriber, make of Gville (supposing it a dissyllable) jewel, 
 the g being sounded by him as j, ju-ill. B. 
 
 Bot. But man is but a patch'd fool, if he will offer 
 to say what methought I had. 
 
ACT V. SCI. MIDSUMMER NIGHl's DREAM. 277 
 
 Man is but a patch'd fool. The quarto, 1600, gives the passage thus: 
 " But man is but patch'd a fool," &c. Steev. 
 
 Patch'd fool. That is, a fool in a pmicolour'd coat. John. 
 
 " A patch'd fool." By a patched fool, I rather think he means a 
 mended fool, i.e. little better than a fool. In other words, " man 
 will not be found without foolishness, however able he may appear 
 to be." B. 
 
 Flu. A paramour is, God bless us ! a thing of 
 nought. 
 
 A thing of nought. This Mr. Theobald changes with great pomp to 
 " a thing of naught ; " i. e. a " good for nothing thing.'' John. 
 
 " A thing of nought." Theobald's reading, notwithstanding the 
 pomp with which he introduces it, is much the best. A paramour 
 cannot be said to be a " thing of nothing,'' but he may be fairly 
 represented as a " good for nothing thing." B. 
 
 Philost. I have heard it over, 
 
 And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; 
 Unless you can find sport in their intents, 
 Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain, 
 To do you service. 
 
 Unless you can find sport in their intents. Thus all the copies. But as 
 I know not what it is to stretch and con an intent, I suspect a line to be 
 lost. John. 
 
 " Unless you can find sport in their intents." Dr. Johnson has 
 mistaken the sense. It is not the intent which is stretched ana con- 
 ned, but the play, that had already been spoken of. We must 
 read the passage thus : 
 
 " It is not for you : I have heard it over, 
 
 " And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; 
 
 " (Unless you can find sport in their intents,) 
 
 " Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain, 
 
 " To do you service." 
 The meaning is : " This performance is nothing in the world, (un- 
 less, indeed, you shall be pleas'd with the players' endeavours to 
 entertain you,) for with respect to the piece itself, it is unnatural," 
 &c. B. 
 
 The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. 
 Our sports shall be, to take what they mistake ; 
 
 Our sport shall be, &c. Voltaire says something like this of Louis 
 XIV. who took a pleasure in seeing his courtiers in confusion when they 
 spoke to him. Steev. 
 
 " Our sport shall be to take," &c. Mr. Steevens's remark, 
 respecting Louis XIV. is entirely foreign to the purpose. 
 Theseus says : " However they may err, however greatly they may 
 
278 MIDSUMMER NIGHl's DREAM. ACT IV. 
 
 mistake, still we «hall gather something from the representation. " 
 " To take," is in this place, lb conceive, to comprehend. B. 
 
 The. What poor duty cannot do, 
 Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
 
 And what poor duty rannol do, 
 
 Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
 The sense of this passage, as it now stands, if it has any sense, is this : 
 " What the inability of duly cannot perform, regardful generosity re- 
 ceives as an act of ability, though not of merit." The contrary is rathe* 
 true: " What dutifulness tries to perform without ability, regardful gen- 
 erosity receives as having the merit, though not the power, of complete 
 performance " 
 
 We should, therefore, read : 
 
 " And what poor duty cannot do, 
 
 " Noble respect takes not in might, but merit." John. 
 " Might," in this place, is not ability but endeavour ; desirout 
 of doing ; assiduous, labor ing at. B. 
 
 Prol. " And as she fled, her mantle she did fall ; 
 
 " Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain : 
 " Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, 
 
 " And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain." 
 
 And finds his trusty Thisbe's mantle slain. The first folio reads : 
 " And finds his Tnisby's mantle slaine." 
 The second has : 
 
 " And finds his gentle Thisby's mantle slain." 
 The present reading is that of the quarto. Mai.. 
 
 " And finds his trusty Thisbe's mantle slain." The editors read, 
 in this place, as if the mantle was killed. " Slain," should be 
 printed sleyne, i. e. torn into threads, or to pieces. B. 
 
 Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, 
 And the wolf beholds the moon. 
 
 In the old copies : And the wolf beholds the moon. As 'tis the design 
 of these lines to characterise the animals, as they present themselves at 
 the hour of midnight: and as the wolf is not justly characterised by 
 saying he beholds the moon, which other beasts of prey , then awake, do : 
 and as the sounds these animals make at that season, seem also intended 
 to be represented, I make no question but the poet wrote : 
 
 " And the wolf bthowls the moon." 
 For so the wolf is exactly characterised, it being his peculiar property to 
 howl at the moon. (Behowl, as bemoan, beseem, and an hundred others.) 
 Ward. 
 
 The alteration is better than the original reading ; b"t perhaps the 
 author meant only to say, that the wolf gazes at the moon. John. 
 
 " And the wolf beholds the moon." " Behowls " must be 
 right ; and should be restored to the text. 
 
 " Silence, ye wolves, while Ralph to Cynthia howls.'' Pope, B. 
 
.SCENE II. MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM. 2/9 
 
 Ob. Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, 
 Nor mark prodigious, such as are 
 Despised in nativity, 
 s Shall upon their children be. — 
 
 Nor mark prodigious.] Prodigious Las here its primitive signification 
 of portentous. So in A' Richard III. : 
 
 " If ever he have child, abortive be it, 
 " Prodigious, and untimely brought to light." Stekv. 
 " Nor mark prodigious." " Prodigious " is not portentous. In 
 this pi. ice it stands for uncommon, extraordinary . In Richard it 
 signifies monstrous, contrary to the course of nature. B. 
 
erc^ant of Eunice, 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Sal. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
 There, where your argosies with portly sail. 
 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood. 
 Or as it were the pageants of the sea, 
 Do over-peer the petty-traffickers. 
 
 Argosie, In Ricaut's Maxims of Turkish Polity, ch. xiv. jt is said, 
 " Those vast carracks called argosies, which are so much famed for the 
 vastness of their burthen and bulk, were corruptly so denominated from 
 Ragojnes,'' i. e. ships of Ragnsa, a city and territory on the gulf of Venice, 
 tributary to the Porte. If my memory does not fail me, the Ragus'tns lent 
 their last great ship to the King of Spain for the Armada, and it was lost 
 on the coast of Ireland. Shakspeare, as Mr. Heath observes, has given 
 the name of Ragozine to the pirate in Measure for Measure. Stf.ev. 
 
 'Argosie' would rather seem to come from Argo — the name of 
 Jason's ship. B. 
 
 Anth. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. 
 
 Fare-well : I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gear appears to me to have 
 no meaning here. I would there ore read, 
 
 " I'll grow a talker for this year" — 
 alluding to what Gratiano has just raid : 
 
 " Well, keep me company but two years more." Mal. 
 " Gear," should, in this place, be written gere, i. e. a jest. Anto- 
 nio says, " a good jest; I shall become a talker." B. 
 
 Bass. I owe you much ; and like a wilful youth, 
 That which I owe is lost. 
 
SCENE IT. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 281 
 
 — like a wilful youth, This does not at all agree with what he had be- 
 fore promised, that what followed should be pure innocence. For wilful- 
 ness is not quite so pure. We should read witless, i. e. heedless : j.nd 
 this agrees exactly to that to which he compares his case, of a school-boy : 
 who,, for want of advised watch, lost his first arrow, and sent another after 
 it with mere attention. But wilful agrees not ai all with it. Warb. 
 
 Dr. YVarbiirton confound? the time past and present. He has formerly 
 lost his money like a wilful youth, he now borrows more in pure innocence 
 without disguising his former fault or his present designs* John. 
 
 'like a wilful youth.' 'Wilful,' has no perfect sense in this 
 place. I would read ■ wileful,' i.e. deceitful, disingenuous. See 
 Johnson's note on " Aug' !'- ; vailing clouds,' in Love's Labour Lost, 
 in which he has made the same mistake as Unit he here notices in 
 Warburton. B. 
 
 Por. But, if my father had not scanted me, 
 And hedged me by his will to yield myself 
 His wife, who wins me by that means I told you, 
 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair, 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet, 
 For my affection 
 
 And hedg'd mc by his wit— I suppose we may safely read : and hedg'd 
 me by his will. Confined me by his will. John. 
 
 ' Hedg'd me, <fcc.' ' Hedg'd me by his wit.' i. e. obliged me, com- 
 pelled me, by this device. B. 
 
 Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. 
 
 God's sonties, I know not exactly of what oath this is a corruption. J 
 meet with God's santy in Decker's Honest Whore, 1635. 
 
 Again, in The longer thou livest the more Fool thou art, a comedy, bl. I. 
 without date : 
 
 " Gods sainte, this is a goodly book indeed." 
 Perhaps it was once customary to swear by the sante, i. e. health, of the 
 Supreme Being, or by his saints. Oaths of such a turn are not unfrequent 
 among our ancient writers. All, however, seem to have been so thorough- 
 ly convinced of the crime of prophane swearing that tbey were content 
 to disguise their meaning by abbreviations which were permitted silently 
 to terminate in irremediable corruptions. Steev. 
 
 " God's sonties,' means, offenders against Ged — sinners. Son- 
 tis, hat. Sontes punire. Cxc. 
 
 We now say, as I am a sinner. B. 
 
 Gob.' Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 
 
 Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. Dr. Farmer is of opinion we 
 should read Gobbo instead of Launcelot. It may be inferred from the 
 name of Gobbo that Shakspeare designed this character to be represented 
 with a hump back. Steev. 
 
 It is much more likely that Launcelot is called Gobbo from his 
 continual prating, and for which he is reproved by his master in a 
 subsequent scene. A gob, in the Northern counties, is a large open 
 mouth. B. 
 
282 MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT III. 
 
 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall 
 seem to signify. 
 
 — to break up this,] To break up was a term in carving. Stfev. 
 
 ' To break up this.' ' To break up a letter,' is to open a Utter, — 
 as one would have imagined every person muit know. Mr. Slee- 
 vens, however, makes mention of the expression as if Lorenzo was 
 to set about carving the letter, instead of breaking its seal. B. 
 
 Laun. There will come a Christian by, 
 "Will be worth a Jewess' eye. 
 
 There will come a Christian by 
 
 Will be worth a Jewess eye.] 
 It's worth a Jew's eye, is a proverbial phrase. Whai. 
 
 ' Worth a Jewess' eye.' This should be printed — worth a Jetves 
 (dissyl.) Jew's. B. 
 
 Gra. How like a prodigal doth she return. 
 
 doth she return ; Surely the bark ought to be of the masculine gender, 
 otherwise the allusion wants somewhat of propriety. This indiscriminate 
 use of the personal for the neuter, at least obscures the passage. A ship, 
 however, is commonly spoken of in the feminine gender. Steev. 
 
 ' She return/ What are we to understand by this remark of the 
 critic? Is it not known that, by converting nouns naturally neuter into 
 masculine or feminine, we by such personification add consider- 
 ably to the force of expression, to the beauty of style? But he 
 seems to talk (the rule of the Philologer and the licence of the Poet 
 set aside) as though the masculine and neuter genders were to be 
 considered as actually one, and the same. This in some perhaps might 
 excite to merriment : but ridicule apart, had Mr. Steevens, amid the 
 contentions of the commentators, ' remained neuter,' it had been 
 well. B. 
 
 Ser. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord ; 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. 
 
 regreets ;1 i. e. salutations. So, in King John, actiii. scene i. 
 
 "Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet." Steev. 
 
 4 Regreets.' * Regreet' sometimes written regrate. This word 
 lias not been properly explained. It signifies — a declaration or 
 profession of esteem. B. 
 
 Por. Now he goes. 
 
 With no less presence, but with much more love, 
 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 To the sea-monster. 
 
 
SCENE V. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 283 
 
 With no less presence, With the same dignify of mien. Joun. 
 f think it would be better to read prescience, i. e. no less confi- 
 dent of success. B. 
 
 Bass. Tims ornament is but the smiled shore 
 To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
 Veiling an Indian beautv. 
 
 the guiled shore, i. e. the treacherous shore. I should not have 
 
 thought tiie word wanted explanation, but that some of our modern 
 editors have rejected it, and rend gilded. Guiled is the reading of all the 
 ancient copies. Stf.ev. 
 
 " Guiled shore" is deceived shore. We must rend gulling short, 
 i. e. deceitful. B. 
 
 Por. "And shuddering fear and green-eyed jealousy. 
 
 love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, 
 
 In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess. 
 
 1 feel too much thy blessing, make it less, 
 
 * And shuddering tear, and grecn-ey'd jealousy.' The adjective 
 ' green-ey'd' as applied to jealousy is no way expressive of its cha- 
 racter. It might with no greater impropriety be styled red eyed, 
 blue-eyed, or any other color whatever. But weak and unmeaning 
 epithets are not to be found in Shakspeare : on the contrary, they 
 are at all times apt and striking. I am of opinion, therefore, that 
 ' green eyed' is a misprint, and lhat we should read green-hode. 
 The woid is used by Chaucer and other ancient writers in the sense 
 of rawness, precipitance of youth. Now this precipitance is one of 
 the great and marking features of Jealousy. ' Green-hode Jealousy,' 
 i. e. youthful Jealousy. Not however, as meaning lhat Jealousy 
 is peculiar to youth; it is rather the vice of age, but as pointing to, 
 or speaking of a passion which is devoid of judgment, or which 
 at least is of green judgment (immature) while it is of hasty and 
 impetuous spirit, as we so often observe in the youthful man. 
 This reading has not only meaning but strength. The employing 
 of a substantive adjectively is frequent with the Poet, and such em- 
 ployment of it is, in many instances, extremely forcible. Green-hode 
 might be written by a careless transcriber green-hide, so that the 
 printer would be deceived by the sound. 
 
 Cleopatra says : 
 
 " My ballad days, 
 When I was green in judgment. B. 
 
 Por. Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
 Into the tranect, to the common ferry 
 "Which trades to Venice : 
 
 Unto the tranect.] The old copies concur in reading, unto the tranect, 
 which appears to be derived from tranare, and was probably a word cur^- 
 
c 2$'l MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT IV. 
 
 rent in the time of our author, though I can produce no example of it. 
 
 Stef.v. 
 " Unto the tranect." Read, " Unto the common ferry, to the 
 tranect,' or rather tramemt, '-which trades to Venice." Traineau* 
 from the French, trainee, • <> draw, and enu, water; a tow boat. B. 
 
 Duke. Thou art come to answer 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 " From any dram oi mercy." This should be dranie, (dream) as 
 employed by Chaucer, Spenser, and other the earlier writers. " He 
 never even- dreamt of' mercy : he never had a shadoiv of it in bis 
 thought." This will be much the more forcible reading. B. 
 
 Shy. Some men there are, love'not a gaping pig; 
 Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat; 
 And others, when the bag-pipe sings i" the nose, 
 Cannot contain their urine ; for affections, 
 Masters of passion, sway it to the mood 
 Of what it likes, or loaths : now, for your answer : 
 As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
 Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
 Why he, a woollen bag-pipe ; but of force 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame, 
 As to offend himself, being offended ; 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
 More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing, 
 I bear Anthonio, that I follow thus 
 A losing suit against him. 
 
 Cannot contain their urine, &c] Mr. Rowe reads : 
 
 Cannot contain their urine for affection. 
 
 Master less passion sways it to the mood 
 
 Of what it likes, or loaths. 
 Masterless passion Mr. Pope has since copied. I don't know what word 
 there is to which this relative it is to be referred. Dr. Thirlby would 
 thus adjust the passage : 
 
 Cannot contain their urine ; for affection, 
 
 Master of passion, sways it, &c 
 And then it is governed of passion : and the two old quartos and folios 
 read — Masters of passion, &c. Tueob. 
 
 Masterless passion sa ays it to the mooiL] The two old quartos and folio k 
 read : Masters of passion. And this is certainly right. He is speaking 
 of the power of sound over the human affections, and concludes, very 
 naturally, that the masters of passion (for so he finely calls the musicians) 
 away the passions or affections as. they please. Alluding to what the 
 
SCENE I. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 285 
 
 ancients tell us of the feats that Timotheus and other musicians worked 
 by the power of music. Can any thing be more natural ? W.ip. 
 
 Does not the verb sway, which governs the two nominative cases, 
 affection and m.sstcrs. rruuire that both should be plural, and conse- 
 quently direct us lo read thus ? 
 
 For affections, masters of passion sway it r &c. Sir Johx Hawk. 
 That affections and passions anciently had diderent significations, may 
 be known from the following instance in Greene's Never too Late, 16 IG : 
 
 " His heart was fuller of passions than his eyes of affections." 
 Affect ions, as used by Shylock, seem to signify imaginations, or prejudices. 
 In Othello, act i. is a passage somewhat similar. "And though wc have 
 here a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, vet opinion, a sovereign mis- 
 treat of effects, throws a more safe voice on you." Stlkv. 
 
 As for affection, those tint know how to operate upon the passions of 
 men, ride it by making it operate in obedience to the notes which please 
 *>r disgust it. John. 
 
 " And others when the bag-pipe sings," &o. All the old editions 
 read ; 
 
 " And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose, 
 
 ' : Cannot contain their urine for affection. 
 
 " Masters of passion sways it to the mood 
 
 " Of what it likes or loaths." 
 There is therefore nothing wrong in the old copies hut the pointing. 
 J regulate the passage thus — " Masters" is not a noun but a verb. 
 
 *' And others, when the bag-pipe sin<rs i'th' nose, 
 
 " Cannot contain their urine. — For affection 
 
 " Masters of passion : sway< it to the mood 
 
 " Of what it likes or loaths." 
 The passage must be understood as follows: "Affection, i.e. sensa- 
 tion (as we may be diffeiently affected) masters or conquers by pas- 
 sion (by force or violence): sways it (rules, orders, or regulates) 
 according to fancy." " It," in the first inslance, "sways it," is not 
 a relative, but used emphatically and agreeably with the present 
 mode of speech, as, "such an one lords it finelv," i.e. carries him- 
 self proudly or imperiously: "of" is frequently by with the old 
 writers. In the second instance, " what it likes or loathes," it is 
 employed as a relative. The antecedent which we may suppose to 
 be mind is not set down, but must be supplied by the reader. 
 " What it (the mind) likes or loathes." B. 
 
 fyhjf tie, a woollen bag-pipe ; — ] This incident Shakspeare seems to 
 have taken from J. C. Scaligcr's Exot. Exercit. against Cardan. A book 
 that ouraoihor was well read in, and much indebted to for a great deal of 
 his physics : it being then much in vogue, and indeed is excellent, though 
 now long since t irgot. In his 344 Exercit. sect. 6. he has these words: 
 " Narrabo nunc tibi jocosatn Sympathium Result Vasconis equitis. Is 
 dum viveret, audito phonningis sono, urinam dlico facere cogebatur." — 
 And to make this jocular story still more ridiculous, Shakspeare, I sup- 
 pose, translated phprminx by bug-pipes. But what I would cniefly observe 
 from hence is this, that as Scahger uses the word Sympathiam, whith sig- 
 nifies, and so he interprets it, ciwiotuncw'affectionem dual us rebus, so 
 Shakspeare translates it by affection: 
 
 Cannot contain their urine for affection. 
 Which shows the truth of the preceding emendation of the text accord- 
 
286 MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT IV* 
 
 ing to the old copies; which have a full slop at affection, and read Mas- 
 ters of passion . Warb. 
 
 Woollen bag-pipe.] As all the editors agree with complete uniformity 
 in this reading, I can hardly forbear to imagine that they understood it. 
 But 1 never saw a woollen bag-pipe, nor can well conceive it. I sup- 
 pose the author wrote wooden bag-pipe, meaning that the bag was of 
 leather, and the pipe of wood. John. 
 
 This passage it clear from all difficulty, if we read swelling or swollen 
 . lag-pipe, which, that we should, I have not the least doubt. 
 
 Sir John Hawk. 
 
 " Woollen bag-pipe." A woollen bag-pipe is no doubt wrong ; 
 and a wooden bug-pipe will be the same, for it matters not, in the 
 present circumstance, of what the instrument was made. The 
 swollen of Sir J. Hawkins will also be found defective, since it is 
 not the appearance of the bag-pipe which offends, but its sound: 
 and this we may know by the expression in the preceding line — 
 •'sings i'the nose." I api therefore of opinion that the right read- 
 ing wiil be, " mewling bag-pipe." The m being turned so as to 
 appear w, the word, in reading, would be pronounced wen ling, and 
 this ,the transcriber might mistake for woollen. Mewling is used 
 by Shakspeare in speaking of the whining or squalling of a child : 
 aud the epithet is highly significant of the harmony produced by a 
 bag-pipe. B. 
 
 " As to offend himself, being offended." This line is wrong 
 pointed. The comma should be placed at offend, thus ; " As to 
 offend, himself being offended ;" that is, <c To offend others while 
 himself is offended." As it now stands, we read, "As to offend 
 himself, himself being offended." B. 
 
 Anth. I pray you, think you question with the Jew : 
 
 You question, fyc. To question is to converse. So, in Measure for 
 Measure.: " — in the loss ol question, — " i. e. conversation that leads to 
 nothing. To reason had anciently the same meaning. See vol. ii. p. 69. 
 
 Steev. 
 
 " You question," &c. We must read : " Question with a Jew," 
 or the line will have no force. They all knew that they were talk- 
 ing with Shylock the Jew. B. 
 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
 And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
 
 Inexorable dog. All the copies read, inexecrable. The emendation in 
 the 3rd fol. Steev. 
 
 " Inexorable dog." " Inexecrable," i.e. greatly detestable, is, 
 no doubt, the proper reading. The word is formed by the same 
 analogy as inestimable, &c. They had in vain endeavoured to 
 awaken pity in the Jew. Gratiano therefore calls him " inexecrable 
 dog," i. e. transcendantly detestable. B. 
 
 Por. You stand within his danger, do you not ? 
 
SCENE I. MERCHANT CF VENICE. 287 
 
 You stand within his danger. So, in the Conusor's Play, anions the 
 collection of Whitsun Mysteries represented at Chester. See MS. Hail. 
 1013, p. 106. 
 
 "Two detters some tyme there weie 
 
 " Oughten money to an usurere, 
 
 " The one was in his daungere 
 
 " I'yvc hundred pouhdes tolde." Sti rv. 
 "Within his danger." Sbakspeare may have written danger, 
 and tiie reading may certainly he understood. But it will perhaps 
 be thought that the old word daungere, i. e. trap or snare, is the 
 more likely to have been employed, when the circumstances which 
 led to the situation of Anthonio are attended to. B. 
 
 Lor. The man that hath no music in himself, 
 Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is tit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, , 
 
 And his affections dark as Erebus : 
 Let no such man be trusted. 
 
 The muu thai huth no music in himself, 
 N(>r is not morcd with concord of sweet sounds, 
 The thought here is extremely tine: as if the being affected with music 
 was the only harmony between the internal [music in himself] and the 
 rrtcrnal music [concord of sweet sounds] which were mutiully affected like 
 unison strings, this whole speech could not chuse but please an English 
 audience, whose great passion, as well then as now, was love of music. 
 Jam verb video naluram (says Erasmus in praise of fully) ut singulis natio- 
 nibus, ac pene civitatibus, communem ouandum insevisse Philautiam : atque 
 kinc feri, ut Britanni prater uUuformam, musicam, el luutas Mensas pro- 
 prie sibi ri-idicent. Warb. 
 
 Tills passage, which is neither pregnant with physical or moral truth, 
 nor poe'ically beautiful in an eminent degree, has constantly enjoyed the 
 good fortune to be repeated by tiiose whose inhospitable memories would 
 have refused to admit or retain any other sentiment or description of the 
 same author, however exalted or just. The truth is, that it furnishes the 
 vacant fiddler with something to say in defence of his profession, and 
 supplies the coxcomb in music, with an invective against such as do not 
 pretend to discover all the various powers of language in inarticulate 
 bounds. 
 
 Our ancient statutes have often received their best comment by means 
 of reference to the particular occasion on which they were framed. Dr. 
 Warburion has therefore properly accounted forShakspeare's seeming par- 
 tiality to this amusement. lie might have added, that Peacham requires 
 of his gentleman only to he able " to sing his part sure, and at first sight, 
 itnd withal to play the same on a viol or lute." 
 
 Let not, however, thi^ capricious sentiment of Sbakspeare descend to 
 posterity, unattended by the opinion of the late Lord Chesterfield on the 
 same subject. In his 148th letter to his son, who was then in Venice, his 
 lordship, after having enumerated music among the illiberal pleasures, 
 
 adds " if }uu love music, hear it; go to operas, concerts, and pay 
 
 fiddlers to play to you ; but I must insist upon your neither piping nor 
 fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very frivolous, contemptible 
 
£88 MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT V. 
 
 light ; brings him into a great deal of bad company, and takes up a great 
 deal of time, which might be much better employed. Few things would 
 mortify me moie, than to see you bearing a part in a concert, with a fiddle 
 under your chin, or a pipe in your mouth." Again, Letter 153, " A taste 
 of sculpture and painting is, in my mind, as becoming as a taste of fiddling 
 and piping is unbecoming a man of fashion. The former is connected with 
 history and poetry, the latter with nothing that I know ef but bad com- 
 pany. 1 " Steev. 
 
 ' The man that hath no music, &c.' Such is Mr. Steevens's idea 
 of music. But these coarse and iiliberal sentiments touching the 
 power and effect of harmony, of " heavenly harmony" as 
 Dryden emphatically calls it — can awaken nothing but indignation 
 in our breasts. The thought, as exhibited by Shakspeare, is exqui- 
 sitely beautiful. To explain or set down all that is comprehended 
 in the expression were wholly impossible: it must be felt to be un- 
 derstood. Mr. Steevens, indeed, is so great a blunderer as to confound 
 the science itself— the composition of music, with the (perhaps) 
 unconscious, insensible performer in it. But do we hold the Tragic 
 Poet and the Actor in an equal degiee of estimation? Do we not 
 frequently consider the former with reverence, and the latter as fre- 
 quently with something not very distant from contempt ? Had Lord 
 Chesterfield's notions respecting music been the same as those of 
 Mr. Steevens, he would not have written — " If you love music 
 hear it." But to suppose even for a moment that he could imbibe 
 such notions, were in the highest degree ridiculous : we know indeed, 
 that he was a totally different man. But enough of this— To urge 
 the matter further were an affront to the reader's understanding. 
 It were to suppose him an absolute Got h. B. 
 
 Ner. Yet for your vehement oaths, 
 
 You should have been respective, and have kept it. 
 
 — have been respective. Respective has the same meaning as respectful. 
 See K. John, act i. Steev. 
 
 — have been respective. 
 
 ' Respective' is careful, cautious. The word is used in that sense by 
 Hooker and other writers. B. 
 
 Por. Swear by your double self, 
 
 And there's an oath of credit. 
 
 Swear by your double self. Double is here used (ox full of duplicity. 
 
 Mal. 
 
 ' Double self/ appears to be used jocularly, and for full of dupli- 
 city, but not with that particular meaning only — the expression is 
 purposely ambiguous — ' Swear by your double self,' says Portia — 
 i. e. " Swear by yourself and by me," and the oath may be credited. 
 The covert meaning in double self is, both of us having been enga> 
 ged in the business and we two being now but one. B. 
 
5CEVE I. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 289 
 
 jfnth. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
 
 for Am wealth; For his advantage : to obtain his happiness. 
 
 Wealth was, at that time, the term opposite to adversity or calamity. 
 
 John. 
 
 It would perhaps be better to read " for his health/' i. e. for his 
 good, for his welfare. B. 
 
 Shak. I. 
 
ZS gou 3Ufce 3ft- 
 
 ACT II. SCENE II. 
 
 Ros. Wear this for me ; one out of suits with for- 
 tune ; 
 That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. 
 
 One out of suits zcith fortune.'] This seems an allusion to cards, 
 where he that has no more cards to play of any particular sort is out of 
 suit. John. 
 
 Out of mits zcith fortune.] I believe means, turned out of her service, 
 and stripp'd of her livery. Steev. 
 
 We should read, " out of fortune's suit." Suite, Fr. train. 
 One not in fortunes train. 
 
 " That would give more," &c. B. 
 
 Le Beau.. Albeit you have deserved 
 
 High commendation, true applause, and love ; 
 Yet such is now the duke's condition, 
 That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
 
 The Duke's condition.] The word condition means character, tempeF, 
 disposition. So Antonio, the merchant of Venice, is called by his friend 
 the '• best conditioned man." John. 
 
 " The Duke's condition." '* Condition," should rather be ex- 
 plained by situation. " The Duke is so circumstanced," &c. He 
 speaks in the next line of his temper, his disposition. B. 
 
 S Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so 
 oft 
 Your^race was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
 
 The roynish clown.] Roynish from rogneux, Fr. mangy, scurvy. The 
 word is used by Chaucer in the Romaunt of the Rose, 988 : 
 
 " That knoctie was and all roinous." 
 Again, by Dr. Gabriel Harvey, in his Pierce's Supererogation, 4to. 1593. 
 Speaking cf Long Meg of Westminster, he says, — " Although she were 
 
SCENE IV. AS TOU LIKE IT. S91 
 
 a lusty bouncing rampe, somewhat like Gallemetta or maid Marian, yet 
 was she not such a toinhh rannel, such a dissolute gillian-Hirt," &c. 
 
 Wc are not to suppose the word is literally employed by Shakspeare, 
 but in the same sense that the French still use carogne, a term of which 
 Moliere is not very sparing in some of his pieces. Stlev. 
 
 Mr. Steeveos h;is mistaken the sense. To royne is to bite. 
 " Roynish,'' in this place, is consequently satirical, carping. 
 Ronger, mordre, (Medire, reprendn , censurer avec malignite) Diet. 
 And this is the character of Touchstone. B. 
 
 Adam. Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
 Their graces serve them but as enemies ? 
 No more do yours ; your virtues, gentle master, 
 Are Sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
 Oil, what a world is this, when what is comely 
 Envenoms him that bears it ! 
 
 " Know you not, master," &c. And is it even so ? Alas ! the 
 grievous, melancholy truth. But of the "gentle master," (when 
 happily found) how will it be permitted us to speak? Are we to 
 say that "he is unfit for this world:" or to maintain that " this 
 world is unfit for him?" And yet this matter should scarcely be 
 made a question. " Thou simular of virtue! " the problem (if such 
 it must indeed be held) is not resolvable by thee. B. 
 
 Adam. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; 
 But at fourscore, it is too late a week. 
 
 " But at fourscore it is too late a week." " A week," is printed, 
 and consequently read as though Adam were speaking of a week, 
 [7 days.] In such case, (he expression will he extremely poor, if 
 not unmeaning. I read the line thus : 
 
 " But at fourscore too late : it is aweak : " 
 i. e. at fourscore, man finds himself weak and feeble. " Aweak " 
 must not be condemned, though no example of it should be found. 
 Aweak is nothing more than weak, the a being redundant. Thus, 
 in old language, adown, agone, are simply down, gone, and so of 
 many other words. B. 
 
 Clo. I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of 
 her ; from whom I took two cods, and giving her them 
 again, said with weeping tears, u Wear these for my 
 sake." 
 
 Weeping tears.] A ridiculous expression from a sonnet in Lodge's 
 Roat/ynd, the novel on which this comedy is founded. It likewise 
 occurs in the old anonymous play of the Victories of K. Henry V. in 
 Peele's Jests, &c. Steev. 
 
 ■* Weeping tears." Had Mr. Steevens studied human nature, he 
 would have found that the expression here quoted is not so very 
 
$92 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT II. 
 
 ridiculous as lie imagines it to be. " Weeping tears " are tears of 
 sorrow. It is meant as more particularly evincing affliction, actual 
 grief ; for that there are tears of joy, since ignorant of the pat- 
 ter from his own observations on life, he might have learnt botli 
 from Homer and Plato. In the former we find haKpuoev yekaaarra. 
 II. b. 6*. and in the latter ^aiporres xXatovo-i. Plat, in Philet. 
 Thus too, in Ossian : "Tell him i fell in the midst of thousands, 
 and let the joy of his grief be great." B. 
 
 Jaq A fool, a fool ! 1 met a fool i' the forest, 
 
 A motley tool, — d miserable world ! 
 
 A motley fool ! — a miner able world !] What! because be met a »!»;% 
 fool, was it therefore a miserable uvrld! This is sadly blundered ; we 
 should read : 
 
 " — a miserable iarlet.' 1 
 His head is altogether running on this fool, both before and after these 
 words, and here he calls him "a miserable varlet," notwithstanding he 
 " railed on lady Fortune in good terms," &c. Nor is the change we 
 may make so great as appears at first sight. Wakb. 
 
 I see no need of changing font to vailet, nor, if a change were neces- 
 sary, can I gue«s how it should certainly he known that varlet is the 
 true word. " A miserable world," is a parenthetical exclamation, fre- 
 quent among melancholy men, and natural to Jaqiies at the sight of a 
 fool, or at the hearing of reflections on the fragility of life. Johk. 
 Some, force may be given to the passage, by reading 
 
 O miserable world ! 
 Or perhaps it will be better to read 
 
 O miserable word ! 
 "A fool! O miserable word ! '—That is, O wietcbed, that I 
 should be under the necessity of calling any man a fool. B. 
 
 Jaq. Then, the lover ; 
 
 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eye-brow. 
 
 " then the lover ; 
 
 "Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
 " Made to his Mistress' e\e brow." 
 This conceit of a sonnet made to his " mistress' eye-brow" has, by 
 . some, been considered as puerile, while others have thought it ex- 
 travagant. Much beauty, however, has always been acknowledged 
 as belonging to the eye ; not only in regard to its brilliancy, but in 
 the formation of its brow, and the texture, color, and length of its 
 lashes. But objections having been generally raised against the 
 expression in the text, I shall cite the authority of Pindar for it ; 
 and that, I hope, will effectually silence the critic of every class. 
 " Lets his poetic raptures fly, 
 " To praise Corinna's lip or eye : 
 " Or will a youthful song bestow, 
 '■* Upon his Mistress' conquering brow. B. 
 
SCENE X. AS YOU LIKE IT. 393 
 
 Amiens sings. 
 Blow, bloxv, thou winter rein \ 
 Thou art not .so unkind 
 
 As man\s ingratitude ; 
 Thy tooth is not so keen. 
 Because thou art not seen. 
 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 
 " Thy tooth is hot 'sb keen, 
 1 Because thou ait not seen." 
 This song is designed to suit the duke's exiled condition, who had hern 
 ruined by ungrateful flatterers. Now the winter wind, the song says, is 
 to he preferred to mans ingratitude. But why ? Because it is not seen. 
 But this was not only an aggravation of the injury, as it was done in 
 secret, not seen, but was the very circumstance that made the keennesa 
 of the ingratitude of his faithless courtiers. Without doubt, Shakspeare 
 wrote the line thus : 
 
 " Because thou art not sheen," 
 i. e. smiling, shining, like an ungrateful court-servant, who flatters 
 while he wounds, which was a very good reason for giving the winter 
 wind the preference. So, in the Midsummer Ifight's Dreutn : 
 
 " Spangled star-light sheen.*' 
 And several other places. Chaucer uses it in this sense : 
 " Your blissful suster Luctna the s/iene." 
 And Fairfax : 
 
 " The sacred angel took his target the e, 
 " And by the Christian champion sjoou unseen." 
 The Oxford editor, who had this emendation communicated to him, 
 takes occasion from thence to alter the whole hue thus.: 
 
 " Thou causes t not that teen." 
 But, in his rage of correction, he fo.rgpt to leave the reason, which is 
 now wanting, Why the winter wind was to he pr ferred to man's ingrati- 
 tude. Warb. 
 
 1 am afraid that no reader is satisfied with Dr. Warburton's emend i- 
 tion, however vigorously enforced ; and it is indeed enforced with more 
 art than truth. Sheen, i. e. smiling, shining. That sheen signifies strinivg, 
 is easily proved, but when or where did it signify untiling? yet smiling 
 gives the sense necessary in this place. SirT, 11 miner's change is less 
 uncouth, but too remote from the present text. For my p^rt, I question 
 whether the original line is not lust, and this substituted merely to fill 
 up the measures and the rhvme. Yet even out of this line, by strong 
 agitati n may sense he elicited, and sense not unsuitable to ihe • ccasaon. 
 " Thou winter wird," says the Duke, "thy rudeness gives the less pain, 
 as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us with thy 
 presence, and whose unkindtiess is therefore not aggravated by insult." 
 John. 
 
 The Editors, I think, are wrong. The lines are certainly very un- 
 meaning as they at preseul stand. A trifling alteration, however, 
 *ill do away the objection raised against them by Or. Warburton, 
 and give them the. sense and elegance they want. I read 
 Thy tooth is not so keen : — 
 Beside, thou art not seen, 
 Allho' thy breath be rude. 
 
194 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT III. 
 
 The meaning of the whole will be — winter wind, thy tooth is 
 not so keen as man's ingratitude; and though thy breath be rude, 
 yet as ihou art not seen, thou canst not insult us by thy frowns, by 
 haughty am! supercilious looks. B. 
 
 Duke. Well, push him out of doors ; 
 
 And let my officers of such a nature 
 Make an extent upon his house and lands ; 
 Do this expediently, and turn him going. 
 
 Expediently.] That i->, expeditiously. John. 
 
 " Expediently/' 1 do not see how "expediently," can mean ex- 
 peditiously. It should rather be explained by proper!?/, fitly. B, 
 
 Clo. God help thee, shallow man ! God make in- 
 cision in thee! thou art raw. 
 
 Make incision in thee .'] To wake incision was a proverbial expression 
 then in vogue for, to make to understand. So in Beaumont and Fletch- 
 er's Humorous Lieutenant : 
 
 " O excellent king, 
 
 " Thus he Levins, thou life and light of creatures, 
 
 " Angeley'd king, vouchsafe at length thy favor; 
 
 " And so proceeds to iruision." 
 i. e. to make him understand what he would be at. Warb. 
 
 Till I read Dr. Wurbunon's note, I thought the aliusion had been t© 
 that common expression, of cutting such a one for the simples ; and I 
 must own, after consulting the passage in the Humorous Lieutenant, I 
 have no reason to alter my supposition. The editors of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher declare the phrase to be unintelligible in that as well as in 
 another play where it is introduced. Steev. 
 
 " God make incision in thee." Mr. Steevens is mistaken. He 
 may rest assured that God makes us to understand, but that God 
 never cuts for the simples. In Shakspeare the word should be 
 printed insision, i. e. insertion or ingraft ment, to distinguish it 
 from incision, i. e. cutting or lancing, merely. B. 
 
 Ros. Let no face be kept in mind, 
 But the fair of Rosalind. 
 
 But the fair of Rosalind.] Thus the old copy. Fair is beauty, com- 
 plexion. See the notes on a passage in the Midsummer Nigkt's Dream, 
 Act I. Sc. i. and the Comedy of Error*, Act II. Sc. i. 
 
 " The fair of Rosalind," is very harsh. We may surely jead : 
 " But of the fair Rosalind." 
 i.e. but that of the fair Rosalind. B. 
 
 Ros. I was never so be-rhimed since Pythagoras' 
 time, that I was an Irish rat, which I- can hardly re- 
 member. 
 
 I was ntver so he-rhimed since Pythagoras' tin.e, that I was an Irish rat. 
 Rosalind is a very learned lady. She alludes to the Pythagorean doc- 
 
SCENE VI. AS TOU LIKE IT. 295 
 
 trine, which teaches that souls transmigrate from one animal to another, 
 and relates that in his time she was an Irish rat, and by some metrical 
 charm was rhymed to death. The power of killinsj rats wilh rhymes 
 Dunne mentions in his Satires, and Temple in his Treatises. Dr. Grey 
 has produced a similar passage from Randolph : 
 
 " My poets 
 
 " Shall witli a satire, steeped in gall and vinesrar, 
 
 " Rhyme them to death as they do rats in Ire/and." John. 
 So, in an address to the reader, at the conclusion of Ben Jonson's Poe- 
 taster : 
 
 " Rhimc them to death, as they do Irish rats 
 
 " In drumming tunes." Stfev. 
 Again in his Staple of 'News, 1625 : " Or the fine madngal in rhyme, to 
 have run him out of the country like an Irish rat." Mal. 
 
 " I was never so be-rhiined," &c. The conceit respecting metri- 
 cal charms I have spoken to in a note, Act I. Sc. I. of Henry VF. 
 As to " killing the rat by means of rhyme," it is necessary to explain 
 the matter. In Henry VI. we are to write rime, and to understand 
 the word as signifying mist or vapour. In the pre>ent instance we 
 must admit rhyme, or rather rhythm, and with its ordinary mean- 
 ing of numerosity or harmony of sounds. The true reading then 
 will be, "kill rate by rhyme." Rate {Fr.) spleen, wrath: — for why, 
 it must be asked, should rats, in particular, be killed by verse? — 
 Wrath is, by the Irish, pronounced ivrat, and hence the mistake. 
 This people, it should be observed, are exceeding irascible. The 
 sense of the phrase will therefore be, " Kill Irish wrath by rhyme 
 or song," which song was probably accompanied by some kind of 
 instrument. The expression is highly characteristic of the sister 
 arts, of their great, their heavenly influence. Thus Dryden in his 
 ode : 
 
 " What passion cannot music raise and quell." 
 And the same must be remarked of poetry ; but then it is of that 
 alone in which the mens divinior is found. B. 
 
 Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, though 
 I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and 
 hose in my disposition ? 
 
 Good my complexion.] This is a mode of expression, Mr. Theobald says, 
 which he cannot reconcile to common sense. Like enough : and so too the 
 Oxford editor. But the meaning is, Hold good my complexion, i. e. let me 
 not blush. Warb. 
 
 Dr. Warburton's explanation may be just, but as he gives no example 
 of such a meaning affixed to the words in question, we are still at 
 liberty to suspend our faith till some luckier critic shall decide. All I 
 can add is, that I learn from the glossary to Phil. Holland's translation 
 of Pliny's Nat. Hist, that paint for the face was, in Shakspeare's time, 
 called complexions. Shakspeare likewise uses complexion for disposition. 
 So, in the Merchant of Venice: 
 
 "It is the complexion of them all to leave their dam." Steev. 
 
 I believe we should read, " Good ! cry complexion ! " Celia says, 
 " wonderful, wonderful, out of all cry ;" to this Rosalind makos 
 answer, " then cry complexion," i. e. say it is my temperament, my 
 
296 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT III. 
 
 constitution ; for though I am caparisoned like a man, I have not 
 the manners, the disposition of one. B. 
 
 Ros. A lean cheek ; which you have not : a blue eye, 
 and sunken. 
 
 A blue eye, i. e. a blueness about the eyes. Steev. 
 
 "A blue eye." But why- a blue eye ? I believe we should read, 
 " 2lJIii eye." Flu,fluish, in the northern counties, i-; watery, weak, 
 tender. "A flu eye," will therefore mean an eye filled with (ears. 
 Fluer, French, to flow or run. B. 
 
 Clo. Come apace, good Audrey ; I Mill fetch up your 
 goats, Audrey; and how, Audrey? am 1 the man yet? 
 doth my simple feature content you ? 
 
 Duth my simple feature content you ?] says the Clown to Audrey. 
 " Your features," replies the vven;h. '■ L<,rd warrant ns, what features f v 
 I doubt not, tins should be your feature .' Lord warrant us, whaisfett'ure f 
 
 Farm. 
 
 Feat slu6 feature, perhaps hud anciently the same meaning. The CI own 
 asks, if the features of his face content her, she takes the word in ano- 
 ther sense, i. e. feats, deeds, and in her reply seems to mean, vthntj'eats, 
 i. e. what have we clone yet? The courtship of Audrey and her gallant 
 had not proceeded further, as Sir William Wit wood says, than a little 
 mouth-glew ; but she supposes him to be talking of something which 
 as yet he had not performed. Or the jest may turn onl\ on the Clown's 
 pronunciation. In some parts, features might be pronounced, faitprs; 
 which signify rascals, low wretches. Pisfol uses the word in the second 
 part of A'. Henry IV". and Spenser very frequently. Stbev. 
 
 "Simple feature content you." 1 here is something of a conceit 
 intended here in regard to feature. I think it will he as follows. 
 Touchstone asks Audrey if his feature, that is, his face, his counte- 
 nance, pleases her ; hut having a provincial accent, he makes of 
 the word fau tare, which is nearly the same in sound with fantor, i.e. 
 one who cherishes or caresses. Audrey mistakes and confounds the 
 words fauture and jautor, the latter of which she understands as 
 being used by the Clown and expressive of caress or blandishment : 
 when, therefore, Touchstone says, " Doth mv simple fauture content 
 you?" the prudery of his mistress takes alarm. " Your [fau tors] 
 caresses! Lord warrant tb! what caresses?" This reading will 
 give aptness and pertinency to the dialogue. But what Mr. Steevens's 
 "rascals" aud "low wretches," will du, 1 am wholly at a loss 10 
 conceive. B. 
 
 Clo. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the most 
 feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what 
 they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do 
 feign. 
 
 Ann what they swear in poetry, &c] This sentence seems perplexed 
 
SCENE X. AS YOU LIKE IT. 2 ( J7 
 
 and inconsequent, perhaps it were better read thus, What they sueur at 
 lovers thei/ may be saiit to feign as poets. John. 
 
 " And what they swear in poetry*'' I can discover no perplexity 
 or inconsequence here. The passage may be paraphrasticaliy ex- 
 plained as follows: " True poetrv," sa\s Touchstone, " is not true. 
 Lovers are given to the study of poetry : nay, lovers swear in poetry, 
 and poetry being made up of fiction, the necessary consequence 
 among such description of persons is easily seen: it may well be 
 imagined, that if they are true poets they must he fahe lovers. 
 Swearing will in such case, I say, amount to nothing, since it is the 
 very essence of poetrv to feign." B. 
 
 Cel. O, that's a brave man ! he writes brave verses, 
 sneaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks 
 them bravely, quite traverse, afefawarf the heart of his 
 lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one 
 side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. 
 
 Quite trurerse, at hu-urt, &c] An unexperienced lover is hero compared 
 t<> a i ten/ titter, to whom it w.is a disgrace to have his lanre broken 
 across, as n was a made either ot want ot cb'trrage or address. This hap- 
 pened when the horse Hew on one side, in the career: and hence, I sup- 
 pose, aro^e the jocular proverbial phrase if spurring the horse only on one 
 side. Now as breaking the lance against Ins adversary's breast, in a 
 direct line, was honorable, s o the breaking it across, against* his breast 
 Was, for the reason ahuve. dishonorable: hence it is, fhat Sidney, in his 
 Arcadia, speaking of the mock combat of Clirnias and Oametas, says, 
 The wind took suih hold of his staff thai it trosf quite over his breast, 6cc. 
 The lover's meeting or appointment corresponds to the filter's career; 
 and as the one breaks slaves, the other breaks oaths. The business is 
 only meeting fairly, and doing both with address: am! 'us lor the want 
 of this, that Orlando is blamed. Waiib. 
 
 A puny t titer, that breaks hit $t aff tike a noble goose. Sir T. Ilanmer 
 altered this to a nose-quit I'd goose, hut no one seems to have regarded the 
 alteration. Certainly nosc-quilt d is an epithet likely to be corrupted : 
 it rives the image wanted, and may, in a great measure, be supported 
 I v a ([notation from Turberville's FafconrU. "Take with you a i/ucke, 
 and slip one of her wing fealhtrs, and hiv.ng thrust it through her nu/es, 
 throw her out unto your hawke." I'aum. 
 
 " Quite traverse, athwart," Ac. Wai burton has properly explain- 
 ed the terms traverse and athwart, and he is perfectly right in 
 regard to the honorable way in which the tilter's lance might be 
 broken on the breast of his adversary: but as he has taken no kind 
 of notice of the concluding part of the speech, " breaks his staff 
 like a noble goose," and which is certainly insufferable nonsense, 
 it i.s requisite to give to the passage a meaning. Hanmer's nose- 
 qnilld goose is out of the question : it wholly respects the practice 
 of the falconer, and as to Mr. Steevens's quotation from Northward 
 Hoe, it brings us acquainted with nothing but what Warburton had 
 told before. In illustrating Shakspcare it should be remembered, 
 and he it remembered and remarked once and for all, that many of 
 the errors in his plays have arisen from transcripts which were made 
 
t93 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT III. 
 
 in trusting to the ear. For " noble goose," then, I read, " noble 
 joust," and which it is highly probable was pronounced jousse ; and 
 this, as is readily seen, might he mistaken by an ignorant transcriber 
 for goose. "Noble" is splendid, honorable : " a noble joust," i.e. 
 a splendid joust or tournament, in which the most honorable men 
 were engaged. This too, we must take with us, that in " breaks 
 his staff like a noble goose/' there is an ellipsis, as is common with 
 Shakspeare. .The word which we are to understand as wanting is 
 knight. But let us attend to the reasoning, — "The puny tilter and 
 the accomplished knight," says Celia, " may each break a lance ; but 
 with this difference, that the one breaks it with honor to himself, 
 and the other with dishonor." "Like a," is as well as : and not 
 in the same manner as. Such, I am persuaded, is the true meaning 
 of the passage, and the conclusion that is drawn in it ; which, though 
 not set down in so many w.ords, is yet evidently implied in the ex- 
 pressions puny and noble. B. 
 
 Sil. Will you sterner be 
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? 
 
 will you sterner be 
 
 Than he thai dies and lives by bloody drops ?1 
 This is spoken of the executioner. He lives indeed by bloody drops, if 
 you will : but how dues he die by bloody drops? The poet must certainly 
 have wrote — that deals and lives, &c. i.e. that gets his bread by, and 
 makes a trade of cutting off heads : but the Oxford editor makes it 
 plainer. He reads : 
 
 "Than he that lives and thrives by bloody drops?" Warb. 
 
 Either Dr. Warburton's emendation, except that the word deals wants 
 its proper construction, or that of Sir T. Hanmer, may serve the pur- 
 pose; but I believe they have fixed corruption upon the wrong word, 
 and should rather read : 
 
 Than he that dies his lips by bloody drops ? 
 Will you speak with more sternness than the executioner, whose lips are 
 used to be sprinkled with blood? The mention of drops implies some part 
 that must be sprinkled rather than dipped. Joun. 
 
 *' He that lives and dies." " Dies" is used in an active sense, 
 like " falls" in the preceding line. " Dies," causeth death, kills* 
 The meaning is, wilt thou be sterner than the man who kills, who 
 murders ; and who lives by that murder 1 B. 
 
 Sil. O dear Phebe, 
 If ever (as that ever may be near) 
 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy ; 
 Then shall you know the wounds invisible 
 That love's keen arrows make. 
 
 Pouer of fancy] Fancy is here used for love, as before in the Midsum- 
 mer Night's Dream. See p. 105. also vol. ii. p. 323. John. 
 
 I rather think that fancy, in this place, is thought, deep refltc- 
 tion. B. 
 
JCENE XI. AS YOU LIKE IT. 299 
 
 Ros. Who might be your mother, 
 That you insult, exult, and all at once, 
 Over the wretched ? What though you have beauty, 
 (As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
 Than without candle may go dark to bed) 
 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? 
 
 That you insult, exult, an I all at once.] It" the speaker intended to 
 accu-c iiie person spoken to only lor insulting and exulting; then, 
 instead of, all at once, it ought to have hern, b>/h at once. But by exa- 
 mining fix crime of the person accused, we shall discover that the line 
 is to be read thus : 
 
 I hat you insult, exult, and rail at once. 
 For these three things Phebcwas guilty of. But the Oxford editor irn- 
 pl and, for rail at once, reads domineer. VVarc. 
 
 I se« n need of emendation. The speaker may mean thus: Wh» 
 fttlghi t:c i/oor mother, that you insult, e.ru't, and that too all in a breath. Such 
 
 is perhaps the meaning oi all at once. Stiiv. 
 
 There is no necessity for introducing *' rail," and which is beside 
 included in the word insult. We have only to make a transposition 
 of the words : 
 
 " That you at once insult, exult, — and all, 
 " Over the wretched." 
 i.e. and that too over the wretched. B. 
 
 If 'hat though you hare no beauty ] Though all the printed copies agree 
 in this reading, it is very accurately observed to me by an ingenious un- 
 known correspondent, who signs himself L. H. (and to whom I can only 
 here make nay acknowledgment) that the negative ought to be left out. 
 
 Tiieob. 
 
 That the reading of the old copy is wrong, appears very clearly from 
 the passage in Lodge's Rosalyntfe, which Shak^peare has here imitated : 
 f l S imetimes have I seen high disdaine turned to hot desires. Because 
 thou art beautiful, be not so coy : as there is nothing more faire, so there 
 is nothing more fading." 
 
 I do not, however, subscribe to Mr. Theobald's mode of correction. 
 Omission is 1 think, always dangerous. No, was 1 believe, a misprint 
 for 7»o. I would therefore read — What though you have mo beauty, &c. 
 
 The word »:<> is often used by our author for more. So in a former scene 
 in this play : " I pray you, mar no mo uf my verses with reading them 
 ill-favoun dlv.'' 
 
 Again, in Murk ado about Nothing : 
 
 '• Sigh no more ladies, ladies sigh no mo." Mal. 
 " No beauty." Mr. Malone's mo will by no means do here, for 
 how will the comparative be employed] more beauty than what? 
 beside 1 Rosalind, in the next line, says, " 1 see no more in you than 
 &c." But all the editions read " no beauty" — the right word will 
 certainly be note, i e, hurt, harm, as used by Chaucer. 
 " Altlio' you have noie beauty; 
 "Though by my faith, &c." 
 ." You have beauty thai hurts, that wounds, this poor fellow : though, 
 in truth, I can see little in you, &c." B. 
 
500 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT IV. 
 
 CeL It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a 
 Itosalind of a better leer than you. 
 
 A Rosalind of a better leer than you.} i. e. of a better feature, com- 
 plexion, or color, than you. Su, in P. Holland's Flint/, B. xxxi. c. ii. 
 p. 403: "In some places there is iu ether thing bred or growing, but 
 brown and duskisb, insomuch as not only the cattel is all of that !eie, 
 f ut also the corn on the ground," <&c. The -.void seems to be deriveJ 
 from the Saxon Bleaie, facies, frd'ns, vijltus. Tor.. 
 
 In the notes on the Canterbury Tales bf Chiucer, vol. iv. p. S'20. Le>e 
 is supposed to mean skin. So, in Isuikbras MSS. Cott. Call. ii. foil 129 : 
 ** His lady is white as wuaies bone 
 " Here lere bryghto to se upon 
 
 " So faiie a biosme on tre." Stt.ev. 
 
 " A better leer than ybu." Lere and her have totally <lifferent 
 significations. Ltre is leather, and in Isumbras is eertalrily iiii-d 
 for ski?i ; but leer, r.i it occucs in Spenser, is leafiiihg, skill. 
 "Leer," in the present instance, appears to be the French Lure, 
 which, literally taken, is a lure, a deccy, and figuratively is made to 
 stand for cunning; or wit. " He hath a Rosalind of a better [Iter] 
 wit than you." This is evidently the meaning, from the whole 
 tenor of the discourse. B. 
 
 Ros. I will weep for nothing like Diana in the foun- 
 tain, and I will do that when you are disposed to he 
 merry ; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when ihou 
 art inclined to sleep. 
 
 J will laugh like a hyen.] The bark of the hyena very much resembles 
 a loud laiiL,h. 
 So, in Webster's Duchess of Maffy, 1623 : 
 
 " Methinks I see her laughing, 
 
 " Excellent Hyena .'" 
 Again, in The Cobler's Prophecy, 1.594 : 
 
 " You laugh hyena iike, weep like a crocodile." Stefv. 
 
 *' Laugh like a Hyen." That the bark of the Hyena resembles 
 a loud laugh, is merely a vulgar notion. I read : " I will laugh 
 like a Hymen." Hymen [Hymenaeus] i.e. a wedding. The apt- 
 ness and pleasantry of her allusion to marriage, and the joys which 
 are attendant on it, are readily seen: nor must the archness of — 
 " and that too when thou art inclined to sleep," be forgotten. It 
 may be further observed, and in support of the reading I have 
 proposed, that as she had just before spoken of Diana, a goddess, 
 so it is much more likely that she should speak of Hymen, a god, 
 than of the Hyena, a beast of prey. 
 
 Cougreve makes one of his characters say : " I have laughed 
 like twenty christenings." B. 
 
 Ros. If you break one jot of your promise, or 
 come one minute behind your hour, I will think you 
 the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow 
 
ACT V. SC. V. AS YOU LIKE IT. 301 
 
 lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, 
 that may be chosen out of the gross band of the un- 
 faithful. 
 
 1 will think you the. most pathetical break-promise.] The same epithet 
 cccwrs again in Lore's Labor Lost, and with as Jitlle apparent meanii.g -. 
 " Must pathetical nit.'' Si i i.v. 
 
 '* Tlie most pathetical break promise." The meaning is suffi- 
 ciently clear. A pathetical break-promise is a deceiver, with every 
 appearance of feeling the pension he wishes to inspire. B. 
 
 Ros. Well, go your way to her, (for I see love hath 
 made thee a tame snake) and say this to her. 
 
 / see that love has made thee a tame snake.] This term was in our 
 author's time frequently used to express a poor conrtmptible fellow. So, 
 in Lord Cromwell, 1602 : 
 
 " the poorest snake 
 
 " That feeds on lemons, pilchards," &c. 
 " Sutpke." From the waj in which this term is spoken of, it 
 would seem as if the Con' -nentators understood by it a serpent. 
 It is, however, nothing more than a sneak, or sneaksby, as we now 
 say for one who is of a mean and dastardly spirit. B. 
 
 2 Page. In the spring time, the pretty rank time, 
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ; 
 Sweet lovers lore the s. ring. 
 
 The pretty rank time.] Thus the modern editors. The old copy reads : 
 In the spring time, the onely pretty rang time. 
 I think we should read : 
 
 In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
 i.e. the aplest season for marriage; or, the word only, for the sake of 
 equality of metre, may be omitted. Steev. 
 The true reading, perhaps, will be, 
 
 " the pretty range time." 
 
 i. e, the proper lime for wandering about. B. 
 
 Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not, 
 As those that tear they hope, and know they fear. 
 
 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.] This strange non- 
 sense should be read thus: 
 
 " As those that fear their hap, and know their fear." 
 i. e. As those that lear the issue of a thing when they know their fear 
 to be well grounded. Wakb. 
 
 The depravation of this line is evident, but I do not think the learned 
 commentator's emendation very happy. I read thus: 
 
 " As those tiiat fear with hope, and hope with fear." 
 Or thus, with less*alteration : 
 
 " As those that fear, they hope, and now they fear." John. 
 I read : 
 
 " As those that hope they fear, then know they fear." 
 • I am puzzled, or perplexed like to those persons, who at one time 
 
302 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT V. 
 
 form to themselves imaginary notions or fears ; who then hope 
 those fears are groundless, and who afterwards are convinced that 
 they are so. B. 
 
 Clo. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such 
 dulcet diseases. 
 
 Dulcet diseases.] This I do not understand. For discuses it is easy to 
 read discourses : but, perhaps the fault may lie deeper. John. 
 
 Perhaps he calls a proverb a disease. Proverbial sayings may appear 
 to him as the surfeiting diseases of conversation. They are often the 
 plague of commentators. 
 
 Dr. Farmer would read — in such dulcet diseases — i. e. in the sweet 
 uneasinesses of love, a time when people usually talk nonsense. Steev. 
 
 " Dulcet diseases." Why a proverb is to be considered as a 
 surfeiting disease, ,1 am yet to learn. It has always been set down 
 in the books as meaning a " pithy [strong, energetic] saying ; " 
 and sometimes it is held as a principle or general rule. These, 
 according to my ideas, are very different from diseases. That the 
 expression would ap|dy to Mr. Steevens's notes, (if such expression 
 may be admitted : for what we are rightly to understand by a 
 turfeiting disease is not very easy to tell) no one, 1 believe, will 
 dispute, they are surfeiting diseases, indeed ! But Shakspeare has 
 here, I think, coined a word from the French participle disant, which 
 signifies saying. This, though used only adjectively by a French- 
 man, the poet has converted to a substantive : and of it he has 
 made disances, i. e. sayings, " Such dulcet disances " — " such sweet 
 or charming sayings." The word disances with the English a will 
 have nearly the sound of diseases: or supposing that the n had 
 been inadvertently omitted in the MS. (disaces) the Compositor 
 might easily mistake it for diseases. B. 
 
mi's mm tiiat enas mun. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Count. In delivering niy son from me, I bury a 
 second husband. 
 
 In delivering my son from me.~\ To deliver from, in the sense of giving 
 up, is not English. Shakspeare wrote, " in dissevering my son from me." 
 The following words, too, " I bury a second husband," demand this 
 reading. For to dissever implies a violent divorce ; and therefore might 
 be compared to the burying a husband; which delivering does not. 
 WlRB, 
 
 Of this change I 'ee no need : the present reading is clear, and, per- 
 haps, as proper as that which the great commentator would substitute; 
 for the king distfvers her son from her, she only delivers him. John. 
 
 " In delivering my son from me." Warburton is right in his 
 objection. " Delivering my son from me " is certainly not English, 
 and it is strange that Johnson, a professed humanist, should attempt 
 to justify the expression. " Dissevering from," is, however, little 
 better. I would take the comma from me, and place it at son. 
 " From me," I think, should be for me. The whole will run thus : 
 " In delivering [giving up] my son, for me I bury a second hus- 
 band." For me is common with our earlier writers, whose language 
 i9 far less correct in point of grammar, far less studied, indeed, 
 than that which is found in those of the present day. The word? 
 may be called emphatical, or they are used to give strength to a' 
 assertion. In the present instance the sense would be comple' 
 without them. " In delivering my son, I bury a second husband 
 This, howerer, is only a simple declaration, while by adding 
 me it seems to acquire force, to have more of what may be tern; 
 
304 ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. ACT I. 
 
 passion in it. We should now say, " for my part I," which though 
 not very elegant, is forcible and frequently employed. Or we may 
 read " 'fore me." " I declare solemnly." B. 
 
 Cnunt. This young gentlewoman had a father (O, 
 that hud ! how sad a passage 'tis ! ) whose skill was 
 almost as great as his honesty. 
 
 This young gentlewoman had a father (0, that had ! how sad a passage 
 'tis.} Lafeu was speaking of the king's desperate condition : which 
 makes the Counte^s recall to rr.iud the deceased Gerard de Narbon, 
 who, she thinks, could have cured him. But in using the word Rad, 
 which implied his death, she stops in the middle of her sentence, and 
 makes a reflection upon it, which, according to the piesent reading, is 
 unintelligible. We must therefore believe Shakspeare wrote (0 that 
 bad ! how sad a presage 'tis) i. e. a presage that the king must now 
 expect no cure, since so skill ui a person was himself forced to submit to 
 a malignant di-temper. Vv'akb. 
 
 This emendation is ingenious, perhaps preferable to the present reading, 
 yet since passage may be fairly enough explained, I have left it in the text. 
 Passage is any thing that pusses, so we now say, a passage of an author, 
 and we said about a century ago, the passages of a reign. When the 
 Countess mentions Helena's lo^s of a father, she recollects her own loss 
 of a husband, and stops to observe how heavily that word had passes 
 through her mind. John. 
 
 Dr. Warburton's reasoning is false and inconclusive. The death 
 of Gerard de Narbon could never be considered as a presage that 
 the king must now expect no cure, unless, indeed, the physician 
 had died of the same malady as that which the king is said to 
 languish under. I think we should read, — 
 
 " O that had ! how sad a pesage 'tis." 
 Pesag-e, i. e. weight. " How grievous a weight it is," — meaning on 
 the mind. 
 
 Hel. 'Twas prettv, though a plague, 
 
 To see him every hour ; to sit and draw 
 His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
 In our heart's table ; heart, too capable 
 Of every line and trick of his sweet favour : 
 But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy . 
 Must sanctify his relicks. 
 
 In our heart's tuble.] A table was in our author's time a term for a 
 picture, in which sense it is used here. Tableau. Fr. Mal. 
 
 " In our heart's table." " Table" must here mean book, register. 
 " My tables." See Hamlet, Act I. Sc. ill. B. 
 
 Trick of his sweet favor.] So, in King John: "be hath a. trick of 
 Co»ur de Lion's face." Trick seems to be some peculiarity of feature. 
 John. 
 
SCENE III. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 305 
 
 Trick is an expression taken from drawing, and is so explained in 
 another place. Steev. 
 " Trick," trait, Fr. B. 
 
 lie/. Not my virginity yet. 
 There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
 A mother and a mistress, and a friend, 
 A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, 
 A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, 
 A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ; 
 His humble ambition, proud humility, 
 His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, 
 His faith, his sweet disaster ; with a world 
 Of pretty, fond, adoptious Christendoms, 
 That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he — 
 I know not what he shall : — God send him well! — 
 The court's a learning place ;— and he is one — 
 
 Par. What. one, i faith? 
 
 Hcl. That I wish well. 
 
 Hot my virginity vet.] This whole speech is abrupt, unconnected, and 
 obscure. Dr. Warburlon thinks much of it supposititious. 1 would be 
 glid to think so of the whole, tor a commentator naturally wishes to 
 reject what he cannot understand. Something which should connect 
 Helena's words with those ot Parolles, seems to be wanting. Hanmer 
 has made a fair attempt by reading : 
 
 f Not my virginity yet You re 'for the court, 
 
 " Then; shall your master," &c. 
 Some such clause has, I think, dropped out, but still the first words 
 want connection. Perhaps Parolles, going away after his harangue, 
 
 said, "will you any thing with me?" to which Helen may reply. 1 
 
 know not what to do with the passage. John. 
 
 I do not peiceive so great a want of connection as my predecessors 
 hive apprehended; nor is that connection always to be sought for, in 
 so careless a writer as ours, from the thought immediately preceding the 
 reply of the speaker. Parolles has been laughing at the unprofitable- 
 ness of virginity, especially when it ^rows ancient, and compares it to 
 withered fruit. Helena properly enough replies, that hers is not yet in 
 that state ; but that in the enjoyment of her, his master should find the 
 gratification of all his most romantic wishes. What Dr. Warburton says 
 afterwards is said at random, as all pusiive declarations of the same 
 kind must of necessity he. Were I to propose any change, I would 
 read should instead ot shall. It does not however appear that this rap- 
 turous effusion of Helena was designed to he intelligible to Parolles. Its 
 obscurity, therefore, may be its merit. It sufficiently explains what is 
 passing in the mind of the speaker, to every one but him to whom she 
 does not mean to explain it. Stcbv. 
 
 I think the latter part of Parolles' speech, "Will you any thing 
 with it?" should be given to Helena. He says, " Virginity is a 
 withered pear.*' Helena replies, " Not my virginity yet." She 
 
 Shak. I. U 
 
506 all's well that ends well. act i. 
 
 then adds: "But will you any thing with it?" meaning in a jocu- 
 lar way : " As you have been talking so much about virginity, have 
 you any thing to say to me ? " I would make a transposition of 
 ihe other lines of Helena's speech, and read the whole as follows : 
 
 " Not my virginity yet. Will you anv thing with it ? 
 
 * '* * * *. 
 
 " The court's a learning place — 
 
 " There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
 
 " A mother, and a mistress, and a friend. 
 
 " I know not what he shall. God send him well, 
 
 " For he is one — " 
 Par. What one, i'faith? 
 Hel. That I wish well, &c. B. 
 
 A Fhanix, captain, &c] The eight lines following j, 'end, I am per- 
 suaded, is ihe nonsense of some foolish conceited player. What put if 
 into his head was Helen's saying, as it should be read for the future : 
 There shall your master have a thousand loves; 
 A mother, and a mistress, and a j'riend. 
 I know not what he shall. — God send him well. 
 Where the fellow, finding a thousand loves spoken of, and only three 
 reckoned up, namely, a mother's, a mistress's, and a friend's, (which, by 
 the way, were all a judicious writer could mention ; for there are but 
 these three species of love in nature) he would help out the number, by 
 the intermediate nonsense : and, because they were yet too few, ha 
 pieces out his loves with enmities, and makes of the whole such finished 
 nonsense as is never heard out of Bedlam. W.vre. 
 
 " A Phoenix, captain," tVc. Such is Warburton's opinion re- 
 specting the lines beginning with Phoenix, and ending \\\i\\ gossips ; 
 and every one but Mr. Steevens, E imagine, will concur in it. He, 
 however, calls it " a rapturous effusion," and " it.s obscurity," he 
 says, ".may be its merit." It is not for obscurity, however, but 
 nonsensicaf?icss ihat a sentence is reprobated by the learned anno- 
 tator. But with nonsense Mr. S. is familiar, and therefore stands 
 up for it boldly : how little too, does he attend to his author ! He 
 informs us that Helen tells ParoHes, and in speaking of Bertram, 
 his master, that in the enjoyment of her [Helen] he should find the 
 gratification of his most romantic wishes." Now this is totally 
 advene from the meaning, for " there shall he find a Ihousand 
 loves:" is not to be referred to herself, but to the court at which 
 Bertram is about to sojourn : nor can we for a moment suppose 
 the lady so entirely lost to delicacy as to hold such language to the 
 braggart captain, and whom she had just before spoken of as a 
 " notorious liar," "a great way fool," &c. Beside, her regard for 
 Bertram is only known to herself. " She never told her love." 
 Mr. Steevens farther observes in support of the Bedlamitic effusion, 
 " a Phoenix," etc. that " our ancient writers delighted in cata- 
 logues," cvrc. This expression is so very curious, that I could not 
 immediately discover, and which will be the case, I think, with 
 manv others — what the commentator would give us to understand 
 by it. B. 
 
SCENE III. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 307 
 
 a traitress, ] It seems that traitress was in tliat age a term of 
 
 endearment, for when Lafcu introduces Helena io the king, lie says, You 
 are like a traytor, but such tra\iors his wujatii does not much fear. John. 
 
 I cannot conceive that/reirress(sppken seriously) was in any age a term 
 of endearment. From the present passage, «e might as well suppose enemy 
 (in the la:;t line hut one) to be a term of endearment. In the other pas- 
 sage quoted, Lafeu is plainly speaking ironically. Tyrwh. 
 
 Tiaditora, a traitress, in the Italian language, is generally used as a 
 term or" endearment. The meaning of Helen is, that she shall prove every 
 thing to Bertram. Our ancient writers delighted in catalogues, and al- 
 ways characterize love by contrarieties. Stei v. 
 
 Falstaff, in The Ma/a Wives of Windsor, «ays to Mrs. F rd : "Thou art 
 a traitor to say Si ." In his interview witu her, he cer:ai,:ly meant to use 
 the language of love Mat.. 
 
 * a traitress.' It appears strange t hat Johnson should not have 
 discovered tire double meaning of '. traitor !' It signifies not only a 
 treacherous, a perfidious person, l<ui a flatterer, inasmuch as a flat- 
 terer, like a traitor, may be called false ." for the precise, the particu- 
 lar acceptation of the word flaticrii, hfalse praise. The French 
 accordingly say, " tous les flatteuts -■ nt trait res." * You are like a 
 traitor [flattirer] hut such traitors, Ac ' is an expression which may 
 now be understood." You are a traitor [flatterer] to say so." — A/< rrv 
 Wires of Windsor. B. 
 
 Hel. The composition, that your valour and fear 
 makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the 
 
 wear well. 
 
 is a virtue of a good wing ; Mr. Edwards lis of opinion that a virtue of a 
 go >d aing refers to his nimbleness or fleetness in running away. The 
 phrase, however, is taken from falconry, as may appear from the follow- 
 ing passage in MarstonV Fttwne, 1606: " 1 love my horse after a 
 
 journeying easiness, as he is easy in journeying ; my hawk, for the good- 
 ness of his wing, 4' c *" < - M " ' l ,nav ne taken from dress: So, in Even/ Alan, 
 out of his Humour ; " I would have mine such a suit without a difference ; 
 such stuff, such a wing, such a sleeve, &c." Mr. Toilet observes, that a 
 pood wing signifies a strong aiug in lord Bacon's Natural llisioty. experi- 
 ment 866: '• Certainly many birds of a. ^ood icing (as kites and the like) 
 would bear up a good weight as they flv." Steev, 
 
 " A virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well," is nonsense. 
 For " wing" we must read vigon, a sort of Spanish wool. The whole 
 should run thus — The composition that your valour and fear makes 
 in you, is a vigon of good virtue, and I like the wear well. — i. e. 
 Your valour nnd fear is a stuff of good manufacture, and I like the 
 wear well. Without such reading, where is the integrity of the 
 metaphor? as Dr. Warburton would say. Vigon, written Vig'n — 
 the contracting of words and the elision of a vowel being very 
 common with our earlier writers, the mistake was easily made. 
 Shakspeare has the same thought in All's Well. 'The web of our 
 life is of a mingled yam ; good and ill together.' Or ' wing' may be a 
 misprint for ming, i. e. mixture. The word is common with the 
 earlier writers, hither reading ( rig'n or ming) will do exceedingly 
 well. The present ' wing* should by no means stand. B. 
 
308 all's well that ENDS WELL.' ACT 1. 
 
 Htl. The mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
 To join like likes., and kiss like native things. 
 Impossible be strange attempts, to those 
 That weigh their pain in sense, and do suppose, 
 What hath been cannot be. 
 
 The mightiest space in fortune nature brin gs 
 
 To join like likes, and kiss like native things. 
 
 Impossible be strange attempts, to those 
 
 That weigh their puin in sense : and do suppose, 
 
 What hath been, 
 
 Ail these four lines are obscure, and, I believe, corrupt ; I shall propose 
 an emendation, which those who can explain the present reading are 
 at liberty to reject. 
 
 Through mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
 
 Likes to join tikes, and kiss like native things. 
 That is, nature brings like qualities and dispositions to meet through any 
 distance thaljortune may set between them; she joins them and makes 
 them kiss like things born together. 
 The next lines I read with Hanmer : 
 
 Impossible be strange attempts to those 
 
 That weigh their pain in sense, and do suppose 
 
 What ha'nt been, cannot be. 
 l$ew attempts seem impossible to those who estimate their labour or en- 
 terprises by sense, and believe that nothing can be but what they see be- 
 fore them. John. 
 
 There is no necessity for alteration. The passage is sufficiently 
 clear as it stands. New attempts, says Helena, appear so very 
 difficult to most people, that they are apt to imagine it is impossible 
 we should ever succeed in ihem, ihough it is well known that events 
 or occurrences, equally strange with that on which I am meditating, 
 have frequently been observed in the world. If any change is made, 
 it should be as follows : 
 
 " Impossible be strauge attempts, to those 
 
 " Who weigh their pain in sense ; nor do suppose 
 
 " What hath been, can be." B. 
 
 King. His honour, 
 
 Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
 Exception bid him speak, and, at that time, 
 His tongue obey*d his hand ; who were below him 
 He us'd as creatures of another place ; 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
 Making them proud of his humility, 
 In their poor praise he humbled. 
 
 His tongue olieyed his hand ; 
 
 His is put lor its; so, in Othello : 
 
 " ■ — her motion 
 
 " Blush'd at herself." instead of itself. Steev. 
 
 • His tongue obeyed his hand/ &c. An Editor ofShakspeare should 
 
3CEXE V. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. £09 
 
 not only be acquainted with the several meanings of a word, but 
 also with the strength of expression, the beauty of diction, the just- 
 ness of poetical images, &e. From the manner in which Mr. Stee- 
 \cns has spoken of * its' and * herself we are to suppose that in his 
 opinion the use of the personal pronoun in place of the neater is to 
 be considered as a fault. " His is put for its and herself instead of 
 itself." Rut he must be told that the one is not put (at least not 
 erroneously) instead of the other. To shew, however, the want of 
 taste and judgment in Mr. Steevens, and I should be really weary of 
 the subject were it not that the honour of Shakspt£tre is perhaps at 
 stake with some of his readers — to shew, I say, the deficiency of 
 Mr. Steevens in these particulars, in the qualities >o essential to the 
 annotator, I shall cite a passage or two from an admired author (to- 
 gether with the observation of Bishop Louth, in respect of them) in 
 which nouns naturally neuter are changed into masculine or feminine, 
 so that the personification becomes striking in an eminent degree. 
 " At his command the uprooted hills retired 
 " Each to his place." Milton's Paradise Lost. 
 " Was I deceived : or did a sable cloud, 
 " Turn forth her silver lining on the night 1 " 
 
 Milton's Comus. 
 " Of law no less can be acknowledged, than that her seat is the 
 bosom of God : her voice the harmony of the world." Hooker. 
 
 On these the learned prelate of whom I have spoken remarks — 
 " Of these beautiful passages we may observe, that if \ou put it and 
 its instead of his and her, you confound and destroy the images, and 
 reduce, what was before highly poetical or rhetorical, to mere prose 
 and common discourse." B. 
 
 Making them proud of his humility, 
 
 In their poor praise, he humbled ] 
 
 Rut why were they proud of his humility ? It should he read and pointed 
 thus : 
 
 — Making them proud ; and his humility, 
 
 In their poor praise, he humbled 
 
 i. e. by condescending to sloop to his interiors, he exalted them and made 
 them proud ; and, in the gracious receiving their poor praise, he humbled 
 even his humility. The sentiment is fine. Wakb. 
 
 Every man has seen the mean too often proudot' the humility of the great 
 and perhaps the great may Sometimes he humbled in the praises of the 
 mean, of those who commend them without conviction or discernment : 
 this, however, is not so common; the mean are found more frequently 
 than thegreat. John. 
 
 • Making them proud,' &c. The lines must be read as follows — 
 Making them proud of his humility : 
 He, in their poor praise, humbled. 
 Of'm this passage is by. The meaning of the whole is this. " He 
 stooped to them and made them proud or consideruble, by his conde- 
 scension ; while they, by their poor praise, were unable to do jus- 
 tice to his merits : and consequently humbled or lessened him in the 
 public opinion," B. 
 
310 all's well that ends well. act I. 
 
 King. JVkose judgments are, 
 
 Mere fathers of their garments ; xrhose constaneies 
 Empire before their fashions. 
 
 whose judgments arc 
 
 Mere fathers of their garments ; 
 
 Who have no other use ot't!:eir fatuities, than to invent new modes of 
 dr°--. Jo H.v. 
 
 I have a su-picion that Shak^peare wrote meer feathers qfthar gar- 
 ments ', i. e. whose judgments a r e ineerly parti (and insignificant parts) 
 of I heir dress, worn and laid aside, asfeatkers are, from the meer lu\e of 
 novelty and change. He goes on to say, that they are even less constant 
 in their judgments than iti their dress : 
 
 tht ir Cttnatancies 
 
 Expire befoi e their fashions. Tyrw. 
 The readir.g of the old copy is supported by a similar passage in Qymbe- 
 line : 
 
 " some jay of Italy 
 
 Whose mother was her painting ." 
 
 Again, by another iri the same play : 
 
 " — '■ — No, nor thy taylor, rascr.l, 
 " Who is thy grandfather ; he made those cloaths, 
 " Whi< h, as it seem*, make thee." 
 
 Here the garment is said to he the father of the man: in the text. 
 
 the, judgment, being employed solely in inventing new dresses, is 
 called the father of the garment. Mai. 
 
 • Whose judgments are, 
 • Mere fathers of their garments.' 
 ' Judgments fathers of garments' is not the language of Shak- 
 speare ; for though his expression is frequently quaint and affected, 
 it is never nonsensical, for ' fathers' I read 'falters' (the old word for 
 vagrant unsettled persons) transposing and pointing as follows : 
 ' Whose judgments are, 
 f Mere faiters : whose constancies expire, 
 * Before the fashions of t heir garments.' 
 i. e. ' whose judgments are always wandering: so unsettled that then- 
 constancy expires before the fashion of their clothes ' Thus the ar- 
 gument acquires clearness and cogency ; which, with the present 
 reading, we may look for in vain. ' Whose mother was her painting,' 
 [and which Mr. Malone brings forward in illustration of ' fathers of 
 their garments,'] is a wrong reading. See note on Cymbeline, Act 
 3.Scene 4. B. 
 
 Count. The complaints, I have heard of you, I do not 
 all believe : 'tis ray slowness, that I do not : for, I know, 
 you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability 
 enough to make such knaveries yours. 
 
 you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make 
 
 such knaveries yours.] Well, but if he had folly to commit them, he neither 
 wanted knavery, nor any thing else, sure, to make them hh own ? This 
 nonsense should be read, To make such knaveries yaks; nimble, dextrou*, 
 
SCENIC VI. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 311 
 
 i. e. Though you be fool enough to commit knaveries, yet you have 
 quickness enough to commit them dexterously : for this observation was 
 t<> let us into his character. But now, though this be set right, and, I 
 dare say, in Shakspeare's own words, yet the former part of the sentence 
 will still he inaccurate — you lock not folly to commit them. Them, what ? 
 the sense requires knaveries, but the antecedent referred to, is complaint $. 
 Bill this was certainly a negligence of Shakspeare's, and therefore to LA 
 leftas we find it. And the reader, who caonot see thai this is an inaccuracy 
 which the author might well commit, and the other what he never could, 
 has either read Shakspeare very little, or greatly mispent his pains. The 
 principal office of a critick is to distinguish between those two things, 
 But 'tis that branch of criticism which no precepts can teach the writer to 
 discharge, or the reader to judge of. Warb. 
 
 ' Fur 1 know you lack nut folly to commit -them, and have ability 
 enough to make such knaveries yours.' A mistake in respect to 
 ' yours ;' and which appears lo have arisen, not from the eye, but 
 the ear, the transcriber being deceived by the sound. In place 
 of ' yours' read cures. This, with a slight transposition, will 
 set all right. « You lack not folly to commit such knaveries, 
 and have ability enough to make them cures.' This is perti- 
 nent and characteristic of the hired fool or Zany, who has, in fact, 
 more of cunning than stupidity ', in his composition. It is not, indeed, 
 ill this latter sense t hat wo are to conceive of the ' folly' of the text ; 
 but merely impertinence, absurdity. ' Knavery' is only mischievous 
 trick, nut dishonest //. " I know you are sufficiently ridiculous to 
 play these pranks; and artful enough lo free yourself from the charge 
 of them, by practising others." B. 
 
 Stew. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put 
 such difference betwixt their two estates : Love, no god, 
 that would not extend his might, only where qualities 
 were level : Diana, no queen ol virgins, that would suffer 
 her poor knight to be surprised without rescue in the first 
 assault, or ransom afterward. 
 
 Fortune, she said, was no goddess, Sfc. Love no god, fyc. complained 
 
 against the queen of virgins, fyc. This passage stands thus in the old 
 copies. 
 
 Love, no god, that would not extend his- might only where qualities were 
 level, queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight, <$-c. 
 
 'Tis evident to every sensible reader that something must have slipt 
 out here, by which the meaning of the context is rendered defective. The 
 steward is speaking in the very words he overheard of the young lady; 
 fortune was no goddess, she said, for one reason ; love, no god, tor 
 
 another ; what could she then more naturally subjoin, than as I have 
 
 amended in the text ? 
 
 Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to he surpri- 
 sed without rescue, fyc. 
 
 For in poetical history Diana was well known to preside over chastity 
 upid over lore, or l<Wu«eover the change or regulation of our circuw 
 Tin OB, 
 
312 all's well that ends avell. ACT I. 
 
 This interpolation of Mr. Theobald's is, in my opinion, particu- 
 larly faulty. To preserve j consistency of character, Helena should 
 rather be made to upbraid Venus than Diana. The original text is 
 certainly right. We have only to transpose a sentence or two. 
 
 " Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference 
 betwixt their two estates: Love, no god, that would not^extend his 
 might, only where qualities were level. This she delivered in the 
 most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in. — 
 Queen of virgins ! that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised, 
 without rescue, in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This [ 
 held my duty, &c." B. 
 
 Ilel. You are my mother, madam ; 'Would you vrere 
 (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother) 
 Indeed, my mother ! — or were you both our mothers, 
 I care no more for, than I do for heaven, 
 So were I not his sister f Can't no other, 
 But, I your daughter, he must he my brother* 
 
 or zcere you both our mothers, 
 
 I care no more for, than I do tor hear'n, 
 So I were not his sister:] 
 The second line has not the lea-t glimmering of sense. Helen, by the 
 indulgence and invitation of her mistress, is encouraged to discover the 
 hidden cause of her grief; which is the love of her mistress's sou ; and 
 taking hoid of her mistress's words, where she bids her call her mother, 
 she unfolds the mystery : and, as she is discovering it, emboldens herself 
 by this reflection, in the line in question, as it ought to lie read in a 
 parenthesis: 
 
 (1 can no more fear, than I do fear heaven.) 
 i. e. I can no more fear tv trust so indulgent a mistress with the secret, 
 than I can fear heaven, who has my vows for its happy issue. This 
 break, in her discovery, is exceeding pertinent and fine. Here again the 
 Oxford editor doe.-> Ins part. Ward. 
 
 I do not much yield to this emendation; yet I have not been able to 
 please myself with any thing to which even my own partiality can givt 
 the preference. Sir Thomas Haniucr reads : 
 Or wei r yt u both our mothers, 
 I cannot ask lor mote than that of heaven, 
 So I -acre no' his sister : can't I e no other 
 Way I your daughter, but he must be my brother f John, 
 " Were you both our mothers, 
 " 1 care no more for, iha.n I do tor heaven, 
 " Sn I were not his sister." 
 There is a designed ambiguity : J care no more for, is, I care as much/or 
 — I wish it equally. Farm. 
 
 "Both our mothers," Incorrectly expressed; but signifying 
 were you the mother of both. I strike out the note of interrogation 
 at the close of the speech, and read as follows. 
 — would you were 
 Indeed my mother ! or if of both the mother, 
 I care no more for than you do, 'fore Heaven, 
 
SC. VII. all's well that ends well. 313 
 
 So I were not his sister: — Can't no other, 
 But, I your daughter, lie must be my brother. 
 Helen must not be made to say by way of question, " can't no other?" 
 for tins would be to lay herself open at once to the Countess : to 
 brim: that lady prematurely acquainted with her views. Can't na 
 ether, is to be considered as affirmative; it is ; it must be so, i. e. 
 "if J am your daughter, he must be my brother." The whole is 
 purposely involved, yet in expectation of catching a gleam of hope 
 from the reply which might be made by her mistress. The mean- 
 ing is evidently this; the Countess had always behaved towards the 
 woman sh? is addressing, as her adopted child. She, therefore, and 
 in order to discover by Helena's manner if what has been reported 
 of her be true, exclaims ; 
 
 " God's mercy, maiden! Does it curd thy blood 
 
 "To say I am thy mother!" 
 To th.is Helena replies ; " I am your child by adoption, but before 
 Heaven 1 assert, that were you indeed the mother of both Bertram 
 and myself, I should not c ire for it [feel no anxiety : but, on the 
 contrary, pleasure it; it as you do] so I were not his sister. But 
 this negation cannot lie: if you are indeed the mother of both, he 
 is of course my brother." We should here bear in mind the pri- 
 vate sentiment of H. in regard to her passion. 
 
 " I am undone : it were all one 
 
 "That I did love a bright particular star; 
 
 " And think to wed it — he is so much above me." 
 When Helena says, that if the Countess is mother to both, she must 
 herself he the sister of Bertram : it cannot be other — Yes, it can be 
 oilier, returns her mistress, you may be my daughter-in-law. "God 
 shield, you mean it not ! " By this latter exclamation it is clear 
 lhat Helena could not have asked, " is there no other way of being 
 indeed your daughter, unless Bertram be my brother?" Had she 
 dune so; had she asked such a question, it would have proved 
 sufficiently that she wished the Count to !»ecome her husband. B. 
 
 Count. Now I see 
 The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
 Your salt tears' head. 
 
 Now 1 see 
 The mystery of your loveliness, andjind 
 Your salt tears' head.] 
 The mystery ot her loveliness is beyond my comprehension: the old 
 Countess is saying nothing ironical, nothing taunting, or in reproach, 
 that this word should rind a place here ; which it could not, unless sarcas- 
 tically employed, and with some spleen. I dare warrant the poet meant 
 his old lady should say no more than this : "I now find the mystery of 
 your creeping into corners, and weeping, and pining in secret." For this 
 reason I have amended the text, loneliness. The Steward, in the forego- 
 ing scene, where he gives the Countess intelligence of Helena's behaviour, 
 says, 
 
 Alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own woi-ds to her own 
 eon. TntOB. 
 
314 all's well that ends well. ACT II. 
 
 The late Mr. Hall had corrected this, I believe, rightly, your lowliness. 
 , Tyrwh. 
 
 I think Theobald's correction as plausible. To chuse solitude is a 
 mark of love. Stekv. 
 
 " The mystery of your loveliness." " Mystery of loveliness," says 
 Theobald, " is beyond my comprehension ;" and well it might. 
 But loneliness is, in this place, poor and feeble, nor is it any way 
 deducible from what had gone before. I read : 
 " Now I see 
 " The mystery, of your liveliness, and find 
 " Your salt tears' head." 
 Liveliness must not here be taken for s/irightlincss? vivacity, but 
 sensibility, lively feelings. The construction is not mystery oj liveli- 
 ness, but the mystery by reason of or from if our liveliness. "Of" 
 is by. But let us attend to the immediately preceding words of the 
 Countess: "Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law— Heaven 
 fore fend that you should mean it ! Yet how is this, that you be- 
 come thus agitated at the names of mother :»nd daughter ? What,, 
 pale again ? Ha ! I now discover how it is with you : the liveliness 
 of your feelings proclaims your secret." Here we find the inference 
 [that Helen is in love with Bertram] naturally drawn from her be- 
 haviour ; from the confusion into which she is thrown by the arti- 
 fice of her mistress. B. 
 
 Hel. I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
 Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve, 
 I still pour in the waters of niy love, 
 And lack not to lose still. 
 
 Captious and intenihle.vj>T'c] The word captious:! never found in this 
 *ense; yet I cannot tell what to substitute, unless carious for rotten, 
 which yet is a word mure likely to have been mistaken by the copyers 
 than used by the author. John. 
 
 Dr. Farmer supposes captious to be a contraction of capacious. As vio- 
 lent ones are to be found among our ancient writers. Steev. 
 
 " Yet in this captious, and intenible sieve." " Captious" is the 
 same as deceptions, deceitful, that which mocks our expectation. 
 Strange I that the editors should be puzzled in regard to the word : 
 than which a better or more expressive of Helen's situation, is not 
 to be found. B. 
 
 Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble 
 lords ; you have restraind yourself vvithin the list of too 
 cold an adieu : be more expressive to them ; for they 
 wear themselves in the cap ct the time, there do muster 
 true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the 
 most received star. 
 
 They wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, do muster, true gait, 
 &c.] The main obscurity of this passage arises from the mistake of a 
 
SC. HI. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 315 
 
 single letter. We should read, instead o^, do mvster, to muster. — To near 
 themselves in the run of the time, signifies to he the foremost in the fashions 
 the fig irative allusion is to the gallantry then in vogue, of wearing jew- 
 els, dowers, anrl ti eir mistress's favors -it) their caps — th-re to muster true 
 gait, -.'unifies tn assemble together in the high road of the fashion. All 
 the rest \< intelligible and easy. WakB.T 
 
 I think this emendation cannot he said to give mncli light to the ob- 
 SCU/i'y of tin- passage. Perhaps it misjht be read thus: They do muster 
 with the true g ,ite, that is, they have the true military stop. Every 
 man lias observed something peculiar in the strut of a soldier. John. 
 
 " Do muster true gait.' The passage appears obscure from the 
 word "gait" not being here understood, It is the French gaitu, 
 written (ra'rfc, without the accent. Some of the words are likewise 
 misplaced. We should read, " Von have restrained yourself within 
 the list of too cold an adieu: he more expressive to them : do mus- 
 ter your true gaite. "They wear themselves in the cap of the time: 
 eat, talk," &c. That this is the right reading will he easily seen 
 when the whole of the speech is considered. — " You use too much 
 restraint: you hid them too cold an adieu : be more expressive : do 
 muster or call forth all your cheerfulness, your good humor. Thev 
 comply with the manners of the time and you should do the same.'" 
 
 The pronouns your and their, and also the adverb there, were 
 frequently written, and even printed y r . So that mistakes in 
 regard to them are by no means rare. Ii. 
 
 Laf. Now, by my faith and honor, 
 If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
 In this my light deliverance, I have spoke 
 With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession, 
 Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more 
 Than I dare blame my weakness : Will you see her, 
 (For that is her demand) and know her business? 
 
 Than I dure blame my weakness.] This is one of Shakspeare's perplexed 
 expressions. I o acknowledge how much she has astonished me, would 
 be to acknowledge a weakness; and this I have not the confidence to 
 do. Sti.f.v. 
 
 " Dare blame my weakness." " He has spoken with one who iu 
 her sex, wisdom, and constancy, hath amazed him more than he dare 
 blame his weakness," is not •& perplexed expression ; it is nonsense. 
 We must read : 
 
 " I have spoke 
 V With one, thai, in her sex, her years, profession, 
 " Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more 
 " Than (blame my weakness) I dare — * 
 He would have added tell or mention ; but not being able, or not 
 daring to tell, he asks the King abruptly, " Will you see her? Will 
 you know her business 1 " B. 
 
 Hel. On his bed of death 
 
316 all's well that ends well. act il 
 
 Many receipts lie gave me ; chiefly one, 
 Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, 
 And of his old experience the only darling, 
 He bad me store up, as a triple eye, 
 Safer than mine own two, more dear. 
 
 A triple eye,] i. e. a third eye. Stiev. 
 
 Reader ! Do not imagine as some have done, that this note of 
 Mr. S.'s is an affront to thee. He has very ably explained the 
 meaning of an expression which there is little probability, thou 
 wouldst ever have discovered : that thou would'st ever have teen 
 through even with the aid of a triple eye. B. 
 
 Hel. The greatest grace lending grace, 
 Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring; 
 Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ; 
 Ere twice in murk and occidental damp 
 Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp ; 
 Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
 Hath told the thievish minutes how thej^ pass ; 
 What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, 
 Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. 
 
 The greatest grace /ending grace.] I should have thought the repet'f- 
 tion of grace to have been superfluous, if the grace of grace h;<.d not oc- 
 curred in the speech with which the tragedy of Macbeth concludes. Stef.v. 
 "The greatest grace lending grace." Mr. Steevens by talking 
 of repetition and superfluous in regard to the word grace is evidently 
 ignorant of the meaning of the expression. "The greatest grace. 
 lending grace," is, "the all gracious, the Almighty favoring my 
 endeavour." " Grace, of grace" in Macbeth, is likewise the all gra- 
 cious, the all powerful. 
 
 " This, and what needful else 
 "That calls upon us, by the grace of grace, * 
 "We will perform." 
 i. e. aided by the Omnipotent. B. 
 
 King. Upon thy certainty and confidence, 
 What dar'st thou venture' 
 
 Hel. Tax of impudence, 
 A strumpets boldness, a divulged shame, 
 TraducYl by odious ballads; my maiden's name 
 Sear'd otherwise ; no worse of worst extended, 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
 
 A divulged shame, 
 Traducd by odious ballads ; my maiden's numt 
 
sc. nr. all's well that ekds well. 317 
 
 Sear'd otherwise ; no worse of worst extended, 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended.] 
 This passage is apparently corrupt, and how shall it be rectified ? T have 
 no great hope of success, but something must be tried. I read the whole 
 thus : 
 
 King. What dar'st thou venture? 
 Hel. Tax of impudence, 
 A strumpet's boldness ; a divulged shame, 
 rradue'd by odious ballads my maiden name ; 
 Sear'd otherwise, to worst of worst--e> tended; 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
 When this alteration fir?: came into my mind, I supposed Helena to 
 mean thus : First, I venture what is dearest to me, my maiden reputa- 
 tion ; but if your distrust extends my character to the worst o/'the worst, 
 and supposes me seared against the sense of infamy, I will add to the stake 
 of reputation, the stake of life. This certainly is sense, and the lan- 
 guage as grammatical as many other passages of Shakspcare. Yet we 
 may try another experiment : 
 
 Fear otherwise to worst of worst extended ; 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
 That is, let me act under the greatest terrors possible. 
 
 Yet once again we will try to find the right way by the glimmer of 
 Hanmer's emendation, who reads thus : 
 
 — my maiden name 
 
 Sear'd; otherwise the worst of worst extended, &c. 
 Perhaps it were better thus: 
 
 — my maiden name 
 
 Sear'd ; otherwise the worst to worst extended ; 
 Wnh vilest torture let my life be ended. Jon.v. 
 The gieat difficulty seems to lie in, " No worse vf worst extend- 
 ed,*' and the passage is evidently corrupt. 1 therefore read, 
 "A divulged shame, 
 "Traduced by odious ballads ; my maiden name 
 " Sear'd otherwise; — and worse, if worse, attended 
 "With "vilest torture let my life be ended." 
 i.e. I would submit to shame, and become the subject of odious 
 ballads ; niv maiden reputation should be otherwise seared and 
 branded ; and if any thing can be worse, or more dreadful than 
 this, my life should willingly be ended in torture. B. 
 
 King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth 
 speak ; 
 His powerful sound, within an organ weak : 
 
 IMelhinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak 
 His powerful sound, within an organ weak :] 
 To speak a sound is a harbansm : tor to speak signifies to utter an articu- 
 late sound, i.e. a voice. So, Shakspcare, in_Lore'j Labour Lost, says with 
 propriety, And u hen love speaks the voice of all the gods. To speak a 
 sound, therefore, is improper, though to utter a sound is not; because the 
 word utter may be applied either to an articulate or inarticulate. Besides, 
 the construction is vicious with the two ablatives, in thee, and, within an 
 organ weak. The lines therefore should be thus read and pointed : 
 Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak : 
 His yower full sounds within an organ weak. 
 
318 all's well that ends WELL. ACT II. 
 
 But the Oxford editor would be only so far beholden to this emendation,, 
 as to enable him to make sense of the lines another way,, whatever be- 
 come ot the rules of criticism and ingenuous dealing: 
 
 It powerful, sounds within an organ zveak. Warb. 
 If we change the order of the lines, there is no longer any 
 difficulty. 
 
 " () powerful sound within an organ weak ! 
 
 " iVlethinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak ! " B. 
 
 King. What impossibility would slay 
 In common sense, sense saves another way.. 
 
 And what impossibility zcould slay 
 
 In cowman sense, sense saves another teayJ] i.e. and that which, if I 
 
 trusted to my reason, 1 should think impossible, I yet, perceiving thee to 
 
 be actuated by some blessed spirit, think thee capable ot effecting. Mal. 
 
 " In common sense, sense saves," dc. " Sense," in the second 
 
 instance, seems to mean corporeal feeling. B. 
 
 Kbig. For all, that life can rate 
 Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate ; 
 Youth, beauty, v\isdom, courage, virtue, all . . 
 That happiness and prime, can happy call. 
 
 Prune.'] Youth,; the spring or morning of life. John. 
 I think we should read, 
 
 " That happiness in prime can happy call." 
 i. e. happiness in the greatest degree. B. 
 
 Hel. Exempted be from me the arrogance 
 To chase from forth the royal blood of Prance ; 
 My low and humble name to propagate 
 With any branch or image of thy state : 
 But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know 
 Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 
 
 With any branch ar image of'ihy state.] Shakspeare unquestionably 
 wrote impage, grafting. Impe, a graft, or slip, or sucker: by which she 
 means one of the sons of France. Caxlon calls our prince Arthur, thut 
 noble impe of fame. Warb. 
 
 linage is surely the true reading, and may mean any representative 
 of thine ; i. e. any one who resembles you as being related to your family, 
 or as a prince reflects any part of your state and majesty. There is no 
 such word as impale. Sieev. 
 
 "With any branch or image," &c. " There is no such word as 
 impage," says Mr. Steevens. A truly ridiculous remark, when the 
 writer is remembered of whom he speaks. Impage is certainly 
 Mfftif. B. 
 
 Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress 
 Fall, when love please 1 — marry, to each but one ! 
 
sc. vr. all's well that ends tf.ll. 319 
 
 Many, to each but one. /] I cannot understand this passage in any- 
 other sense, than as a ludicrous exclamation, in consequence ot Helena's 
 wish of ewe fajr and virtuous mistress to each of the lords. If that be so, 
 it cannot belong to Helena; and might properly enough be given to 
 Parolles. Tyrwh. 
 
 The eiitire speech belongs to Helena. " But one" means, with 
 an exception to Bertram, she would insinuate, that love is not 
 to give him a mistress, as she herself assumes love's power, and 
 means to lay claim to Bertram. There should he a comma ut 
 "each." B. 
 
 King. She is young, wise, fair ; 
 In these to nature she's immediate heir ; 
 And these breed honor. 
 
 She is young, wise, fair ; 
 
 In these by nature she's immediate heir ; 
 
 And these breed honor. 
 The objection was, that Helen had neither riches nor tide : to this the 
 king replies, she's the immediate heir ot' nature, from whom she inherits 
 youth, wisdom, and beauty. The thought is tine. Tor by the immediate 
 heir to nature, we must understand one who inherits wisdom and beauty 
 in a supreme degree. From hence it appears that young is a faulty 
 reading, for that does not, like wisdom and beauty, admit of different 
 degrees of excellence ; therefore slit could not, with regard to that, be 
 said to be the immediate heir of nature; for in that she was only joint 
 heir with all the rest of her species. Besides, though wisdom and beauty 
 may breed honor, yet youth cannot be said to do so. On the contrary, it 
 is age which has this advantage. It si ems probable that some foolish 
 player, when he transcribed this pari, not apprehending the thought, 
 and wondering to tind youth not reckoned amongst the good qualities of 
 a woman when she was proposed to a lord, and not considering that it 
 was comprised in the word fair, foisted in young, to the exclusion of a 
 v.ord much mure to the purpose. For 1 make no question but Shaks- 
 peare wrote : 
 
 She is good, wise, fair. 
 
 For the greate-t part of hei encomium turned upon her virtue. To onait 
 this therefore in the recapitulation of her qu dities, hud been against all 
 the rules of good speaking. Nor let it lie objected that this is requiring 
 an exactness in our author which we should not expect. For he who 
 could reason with the ft .rce our author doth here (and we ought always 
 to distinguish between Shakspeare on his guard and in his rambles) and 
 illustrate chat reasoning with such beauty of thought and propriety of 
 expression, could never make use of a word which quite destroyed tha 
 exactness of his reasoning, the propriety of his thought, and the ele- 
 gance of his expressam. Vv" a rb. 
 
 Here is a long note which I wish had been shorter. Good is better 
 than young, as k refers to honor. But she is more the immediate heir of 
 nature with respect to youth than goodness. To be immediate heir is to 
 inherit without any intervening transmitter : thus she inherits beauty 
 immediately from nature, but honor is transmitted by ancestors; youth is 
 received immediately from nature, but goodness may be conceived in part 
 the gift of parents, or the effect of education. The alteration therefore 
 loses on one side what it gams on the other. John. 
 
520 ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. ACT IT. 
 
 " She is young, wise, fair." " Good," the reading proposed by 
 Warburton, is in effect proper, but wrong in regard to its being 
 substituted by him for any expression that appears in the text. 
 The Bishop says, that yeuth is included in the word " fair," and 
 which he considers as signifying not only young, but beautiful. I 
 am of a totally different opinion, nor do I believe that either youth 
 or beauty are to be taken into the account which is meant to be 
 given of Helena's perfections. They are, no doubt, to be under- 
 stood of the lady though not set down ; but it is of her moral, 
 her intellectual excellencies, that the king would speak. By " fair" 
 I understand honest, gtiod: thus we now say "a person of fair 
 [good] character: the. very word, the very sense which the learned 
 annotator contends for. In place of ''young" I read sprung, 
 [born.] 
 
 " She is sprung, wise, fair j 
 " In these to nature she's immediate heir. 
 " And these breed honor." 
 The m-aning is simply this : ,e She is born with ; or she inherits 
 from nature, wisdom, and goodness." By the words : " And 
 these breed honor," he would further insinuate, that these natural 
 qualities when strengthened, when increased by culture, bring to 
 the possessor the highest reputation, the greatest glory. It is not 
 adscititious honor, nor, as Johnson supposes, that which is derived 
 from ancestor;-, that we are here to understand, but honor which 
 has its seat in the soul, and which becomes conspicuous by the ex- 
 ercise of wisdom and virtue. These Helena has to boast: and with 
 these her parent (nature) has endowed her. 
 
 Warburton, who has nothing faulty to answer for, in respect to 
 his comments, but too much haste, has here unwittingly embraced 
 the very error of the transcriber, and which he so justly censures: 
 for if " fair " is, in this instance, to mean youth and beauty, (I 
 have already said, and in attending to the tenor of the speech, that 
 it is not to be admitted as denoting either) the objection that he has 
 started against " young," is evidently wot founded, or it is, in fact, 
 to establish a distinction without a difference ; and this, by the 
 way, I have before had occasion to remark of this (as I yet hold 
 him) most distinguished of Shakspeare's critics. Mr. Malone is 
 mistaken in supposing that the poet wrote honor-born, i.e. honora- 
 bly deseeded. I repeat, it is not on such kind of distinction : not 
 on title (" it is a dropsied honor " ) that the encomium is made. B. 
 
 King. Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
 Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, 
 Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims ; 
 Or I will throw thee from my care for ever, 
 Into the staggers. 
 
SC. IV. .ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 321 
 
 " Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
 
 " Do thine own fortunes that obedient right." 
 
 " Believe not thy disdain " is much too feeble an expression to 
 come from the pen of Shakspeare. The passage is, no doubt, cor- 
 rupted. I therefore read as follows : 
 
 " Beleve thy hot disdain ; and presently." 
 i. e. "shake off thy intemperate disdain, and quickly." To beleve, 
 in old language, is to leave off, to throw aside. The context will 
 warrant the reading which I propose. B. 
 
 Into the staggers.] One spei ies of the staggers, or the /imscs' apoplexy, 
 U a raging impatience which makes the animal dash himself with de- 
 structive violence against posts or walls. To this the allusion, I suppose, 
 is made. John. 
 
 " Into the staggers." This is not an allusion to the staggers in 
 horses. To be staggered is to be perplexed, to be wavering, or 
 irresolute. The king's meaning is — that unless Bertram agrees 
 to what he had proposed, he would, by his conduct towards him, 
 stagger or perplex him in such a manner, that his life should hence- 
 forth be made up of nothing but uneasiness, of doubt and un- 
 certainty. B. 
 
 King. As thou lov'st her, 
 
 Thy love's to me religious : else, does err. 
 
 [Edeunt all but Parolles and Lafeu. 
 
 The old copy has this singular stage direction: " Parolles anri Lafeu 
 stay behind, commenting of" this wedding." Steev. 
 
 To comment mt.ans here, I believe, to assume the appearance of per- 
 sons discoursing, observing, &c. Mal. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Parolles and Lafeu.] , What there is that can be 
 called " singular " in this stage direction, no one but Mr. Steevens, 
 I believe, will be able to discover. The note respecting the direc- 
 tion indeed would be termed singular, had it proceeded from any 
 other than himself. B. 
 
 Hel. O you leaden messengers, 
 
 That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
 Fly with false aim ; move the still-piecing air, 
 That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! 
 
 move the still-piercing air, 
 
 Thai sings with piercing. 
 The words are here oddly shuffled into nonsense. We should read : 
 
 — pierce the slill-moving air, 
 
 That sings with piercing. 
 i. e. pierce the air. which is in perpetual motion, and suffers no injury by 
 piercing. Warb. 
 
 The old copy reads — the still-peermg air. 
 Perhaps we might better read : 
 
 the still-piecing air. 
 
 i. e. the air that closes immediately. This has been proposed already, 
 but I forget by whom. Sts£V. 
 
 Shak. I. X 
 
522 all's well thai ends well., act hi, 
 
 I have no doubt that still-piecing was Shakspeare's word. But the 
 passage is not yet quite bound. We should read, I believe, 
 
 rove the still-piecing air. 
 
 i. e. fly at random through.] The allusion hto shooting at rovers in archery, 
 which was shooting without any particular aim. Tyrw. 
 " O you leaden messengers, 
 " That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
 " Fly with false aim : move the still-piecing air • 
 " That sings with piercing." 
 "The piecing air" is feehie : add to this, that the construction of 
 the passage is evidently wrong — for to what end or purpose are 
 these leaden messengers to move the " piecing air ? " A like ob- 
 jection must he made tn the. old reading. The sense is neither 
 move the piercing air, nor pierce the moving air ; hut " move 
 leaden messengers, piercing the air ever and only: touch not 
 Bertram." Read the lines as under: 
 
 ,r O you leaden messengers, 
 " That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
 " Fly with false aim : move, — the air still piercing, — 
 " That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord ! "' 
 Thus regulated, the meaning is clear and the expression forcible. 
 '■' the air still piercing, 
 " That sings with piercing," 
 is not altogether agreeable to modern ears ; but of such reduplica- 
 tion Shakspeare was fond. B. 
 
 Dia. Tis pity he is not honest : Yonds that same 
 knave, 
 That leads him to these places ; were I his lady, 
 I'd poison that vile rascal. 
 
 Yond's that same knave. 
 
 That leads him to these places.] 
 What places? Have they been talking of brothels ; or, indeed, any 
 particular locality ? I make no question but our author wrote : 
 
 That leads him to these puces. 
 i. e. such irregular steps, to courses of debauchery, to not loving hi? 
 wife. Theob. 
 
 The places are, apparently, where he 
 
 brokes with all, that can in such a suit 
 
 Corrupt, &e. Steev. 
 
 " Leads him to these places." Theobald is right in objecting to 
 " places," but paces, (though he seems indeed to have caught the 
 sense of the passage) is very inexpressive of it. I have little doubt 
 but that Shakspeare wrote plaises (i. e. pleasures) a word which he 
 has coined from the French plaise, and employed it substantively. 
 •'Yonder is the knave who draws him into these pleasures and 
 which are so unbecoming him." B. 
 
 Ber. I Know, thou art valiant; and, to the possibility 
 of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. 
 
ACT IV. SC. II. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 323 
 
 Possibility of thy soldiership.] I will subscribe (says Bertram) to the 
 possibility of your soldiership. He suppresses that lie should not be so 
 will ins; to vouch for its probability. Steev. 
 
 k ' Possibility of thy soldiership." Mr. Steevens is again at fault. 
 Bertram does not insinuate that it is barely possible for Parolles to 
 evince his courage. [Had he not on the very instant said — I know 
 thou art valiant?] By "the possibility of thy soldiership" we 
 must understand — " Even/ thing that it is possible tor a soldier to 
 perforin, will be found in thee. Of this I am the voucher : this I 
 am ready to maintain." B. 
 
 Par. Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's 
 rnoulh, and buy another of Bajazet's mule, it you prat- 
 tle me into these perils. 
 
 And buy myself another of Bajazet's mule.] In one of our old Turkish 
 histories, there is a pompous description of Bajazct riding on a mule to 
 the Divan. Steev. 
 
 " And buy another of Bajazet's mule." Parolles says that his 
 " tongue prattles him into perils." I doubt not, therefore, that 
 we should read " Bajazet's mute." This is in point ; while the 
 present expression is ridiculous. B. 
 
 Diet. Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth ; 
 But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. 
 What is not holy, that vve swear not by 
 But take the Highest to witness. 
 
 What is not holy, that toe swear not by.] 
 The sense is, " We never swear by what is not holy, but swear by, or 
 take to witness, the Highest, the Divinity." The tenor of the reasoning 
 contained in the following lines perfectly corresponds with this; If 
 1 should swear by Jove's great attributes, that I lov'd you clearly, would 
 you believe my oaths, when you found by experience that I lov'd you 
 ill, and was endeavouring to gain credit with you in order to seduce you 
 to your ruin ? No, surely, but you would conclude that I had no faith 
 either in .)o\c or his attributes, and that my oaths were mere words of 
 course. For that oath can certainly have no tye upon us, which we 
 swear by him we profess to love and honor, when at the same time we 
 give the strongest proof of our disbelief in him, by pursuing a course 
 which we know will offend and dishonor him. By not comprehending the 
 poet's scope and meaning, Dr. Warburton hath been reduced to the 
 necessity of fathering upon him such strange English us this: "What 
 is not holy, that we swear," to signify, "If we awear to an unholy pur- 
 pose;" a sense those words will by no means bear. " Not 'hides," to 
 signify, The oath is dissolved in the making; a meaning which can no 
 more be deduced from the words than the former. 
 
 As to the remaining words, " But take the High'st to witness," they 
 so plainly and directly contradict Dr. Warburtou's interpretation, that it 
 was utterly impracticable for him to reconcile them to it, and therefore 
 he hath very prudently passed them over without notice." Rev. 
 
 '* What is not holy, that we swear not by, 
 
 " But take the Highest to .witness." 
 
324 ALL'S WELL THAT EN r DS WELL. AGT IV. 
 
 Warburton's change of " by " into " bides," is not only unnecessary 
 but faulty ; as Heath, indeed, has shown. But still the passage 
 is not rightly read. The lines in question should be printed inter- 
 rogatively. The- comma at " holy" must be taken away. 
 
 " What is not holy that we swear not by ? 
 
 " But take the Highest lo witness 1 " 
 i. e. " What is [there of, or among the] holy that we do not swear 
 by 1 Nay do we not take even the Highest to witness for us 1 " 
 This the poet has not very clearly expressed : but I am persuaded 
 that such is the sense. B. 
 
 Dia. This has no holding, 
 
 To swear by him whom I protest to love,. 
 That I will work against him. 
 
 This has no holding, &c. It may be read thus : 
 
 This has no holding, 
 
 To swear by him whom I attest to love, 
 That I will work against him. 
 There is no consistence in expressing reverence for Jupiter by calling" 
 him to attest my love, and showing ut the same time, by working against 
 him by a wicked passion, that I have no respect to the name which I 
 invoke. John. 
 
 To sweii?' by him whom I protest to love, 
 That I wilt work against hhn.~\ 
 This passage likewise appears to me corrupt. She swears not by him 
 whom she loves, but by Jupiter. I believe we may read, to swear to him. 
 There is, says she, no holding, no consistency, in swearing to one that I 
 love him, when T swear it only to injure him. John. 
 
 Helena certainly swears by Jupiter, and not to her lover, as Dr. 
 Johnson supposes. I read, 
 
 " this has no holding, 
 
 " To swear by him, and to protest I love 
 " Whom I will work against." 
 The immediately preceding lines will show that I am right. B„ 
 
 — i 
 
 Dia. I see, that men make hopes in such affairs, 
 
 That well forsake ourselves. 
 
 I see, that men make hopes in such affairs.} 
 The four folio editions read : 
 
 make rope's in such a scarre. 
 
 The emendation was introduced by Mr. Rowe. I find the word scarre 
 in the Tragedy of Hoffman, 1631. StEev. 
 
 Mr. Rowe's emendatiun being entirely arbitrary, any that is nearer to 
 the traces of the unintelligible word in the old ecpy, and affords at the 
 same time an easy sense, is better entitled to a place in the text. Mai. 
 
 '* Make ropes in such a scarre." The passage is undoubtedly 
 corrupt ; but the reading proposed by Mr. Rowe is poor and bald 
 indeed ! If for " ropes " we read japes, and for «' scarre " scathe, 
 both which words were easily mistaken in transcribing, we shall, 
 I believe, discover the meaning of the speech. Jape is jest, aod 
 scathe is injury. I read, 
 
sc. viii. all's well that ends well. 325 
 
 " I see that men make japes of such a scathe : 
 
 " That we'll forsake ourselves." 
 .i. e. " I know that men are apt to make a jest of such injuries, 
 and to think that they may rely on our weakness for success." 
 
 This is the language which a woman of virtue may well he sup- 
 posed to hold to the man who is endeavouring to~ seduce her. But 
 the following reading may perhaps he preferred, in which the original 
 word "scar" may remain. It will signify, however, not a cliff or 
 rock, hut hurt, injury, the same as scathe. 
 
 " I see that men make mopes in such a scar." 
 To ?7iake mopes is to laugh and sneer. B. 
 
 Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister. 
 
 An egg out of a cloister.] I know not that cloister, though it may ety- 
 mologically signify any thing shut, is used by our author otherwise than 
 tor a monastery, and therefore I cannot guess whence tiii.^ hyperbole 
 could take its original: perhapsit means only this : " lie will steal any 
 thing, however trifling, from any place, however holy." John. 
 
 " An egs out of a cloister." "Steal an egg out of a cloister" 
 is very unmeaning. 1 read : " He will steal an Ag (i. e. an Agnes) 
 out of a cloister." Such ahhreviations are common in ordinary life 
 as Dy for Diana, Su for Susan, &e. &c. 
 
 Agnes is the name of a woman : and figuratively it may stand 
 for chastity, which is indeed its primitive signification. Parolles would 
 therefore say: "He will steal chastity itself out of a nunnery." 
 By this reading all is uniform and easy. B. 
 
 lid. We must away; 
 
 Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us. 
 
 Our zcag^on is pre/>ar\l, and time revives us ] The word revives conveys 
 so little sense, that it seems \cr\ liable to suspicion. 
 
 and time reri/es us; 
 
 i. e. looks us in the face, calls upon us to hasten. Warb. 
 
 The present reading is corrupt, and I am afraid the emendation norm 
 of the soundest. I ne\er remember to have seen the word revue. One 
 .may as well leave blunders as make them. Why may we not read for a 
 shift, without much effort, the time invites us f John. 
 
 " Time revives us." The word " revyes " will not have the 
 sense that Dr. Warburton has annexed to it. I read : 
 ""We must away 
 " And time revs ties us." 
 i.e. "We must away; for time is always stealing from u 
 bereaving us of part of our existence." To revyne, in old Engi 
 is to bereave, to rob one of a thing;. B. 
 
 i 
 
 Count. My Lord, that's gone, made himself much 
 sport out of hitn : by his authority lie remains here, 
 which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness ; and, 
 indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. 
 
326 all's well that ekes well. act v. 
 
 So he is. J\'y Lord, that's pone, made himself much svort out of him ; 
 by his authority he remains here, uh'bh he thinks is a patent for his sauci- 
 ness ; and, indeed, he h s no pace, but runs where he will. 
 
 Should not we read — no place, that is, no station, or office in the family? 
 
 A pace is a certain or prescribed walk; so we say of a man meanly 
 obsequious, that he has learned his paces, and of a horse who moves ir- 
 regularly, that he has no paces. John. 
 
 " He has no pace," &e. I think *■*■ runs where he will," is not 
 that he goes where he chooses, but that his tongue runs The thinks 
 he has a patent for his sauciuess] " lace" appears to be the latia 
 pace ; and used by Shaksp.are to signify that "the fool» or clown, 
 the Countess's servant, never ceases [he has no pace] from uttering 
 some nonsense ; that he is an eternal babbler/' The context will 
 warrant this interpretation. B. 
 
 Enter a gentle A stringer. 
 
 Unter a gentle Astringer.] Perhaps a gentle stranger, i. e. a stranger 
 of gentle condition, a gentleman. The error of this conjecture which I 
 have learn'd (since our edition first made its appearance, from an old 
 book of Falconry, 1633,) should teach diffidence to those who conceive 
 the words, which they do not understand, to be corruptions. An ostrin- 
 ger or astringer is a falconer, and such a character was probably to be 
 met with about a court which was famous for the love of that diversion. 
 So, in Hamlet : 
 
 " We'll e'en to it like French Falconers." Steev. 
 
 -' A gentle Astringer." This remark respecting Editorship is 
 the best which Mr. Steevens has made in the course of his work. 
 He has not, however, acted up to it, but supposes almost every 
 expression to be corrupt, when he cannot find a corresponding 
 one in the writers of the time. Nay, even when such expression is 
 found, he frequently errs, and egregiousiy too, from not knowing 
 the different significations of words. B. 
 
 Laf. Sirrah, inquire further after me ; I had talk of 
 you last night : though you are a fool and a knave, you 
 shall eat. 
 
 You shall cat,.'] Parolies has many of the lineaments of Falstaff, and 
 seems to be the character which Shakspeaie delighted to draw, a fellow 
 that had more wit than virtue. Though justice required that he should 
 be detected and exposed, yet his vices sit so fit in him that he is not at 
 last suffered to starve. Johx. 
 
 " You shall eat." The ■wit of Parolies is not very evident, 
 unless, indeed, we are to explain the term by what is now called 
 low cunning, Lafeu (who calls him "a fool," and perhaps rightly) 
 does not insinuate that "he shall eat" because his vices sit fit in 
 him, but merely from a principle of humanity. He would x\o\ 
 that any one should starve. B. 
 
 King. I am not a day of season, 
 
SCENE V. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 52/ 
 
 For thou may's t see a sun-shine and a hail 
 Id me at once. 
 
 1 urn not a day of season. That is of uninterrupted rain. The word is 
 still used in the same sense in Virginia, in which government, and 
 especially on the eastern shore of it, where the descendants of the first 
 settlers have been less mixed with later emigrants, many expressions of 
 Shakspeare's time are still current. Him,. 
 
 " 1 am not a daj of season." Why must " a day of* season " 
 mean a day of uninterrupted rain? It appears to me from the 
 whole of the king's speech that he is wavering and unsettled in his 
 sentiments respecting Bertram. He therefore observes that " he is 
 not a day of season ; " that is to say, that he is by no means fixed 
 in his opinions; or, in other words, that he is like one of those 
 ■days in which there is at once both hail and sunshine, and whose 
 character is consequently indeterminable. 13. 
 
 Ber. Contempt his scorntul perspective did lend me, 
 Which warp'd the line of ever}' other favor ; 
 Scorn'd a fair color, or express'd it stol'n. 
 
 Scorn'd a fair color, or express'd it stol'n. 
 Contempt is brought in lending Bertram her perspective glass, which 
 does its office properly by warping the lines of all other faces; by ex- 
 lending or contracting into a hideous object : or by expressing >>r shewing 
 native red and white as paint, Hut with what propiiety of speech can 
 this glass be said to scorn, which is an affection of the mind ? we should 
 read 
 
 Scorch'd a fair color, or express'd it stol'n ; 
 i. e. this glass represented the owner as brown or tanned ; or, if not so, 
 eauscd the native colour to appear artificial. Ward. 
 
 The passage is corrupt : for, as Dr. Warburton rightly observes, 
 a glass can hardly be made to scorn. But why should it be made 
 to scorch ? The poet certainly wrote, 
 " Scots' d a fair color," &c. 
 
 To scoss or scorse, in old language, is to change. B. 
 
 Btr. Noble she was, and thought 
 
 I stood ensaofd. 
 
 Noble she ums, and thought 
 1 stood engag'd. 
 
 The plain meaning is, when she sa v me receive the ring, she thought 
 me engag'd to her. John. 
 
 The first folio reads — ingag'd, which perhaps may be intended in the 
 same sense with the reading proposed by Mr. Theobald, i. e. not engaged ; 
 as Shakspeare in another place uses gag'd for e/igagcd. Merchant of 
 If nice, Act I. Sc. I. Tyiiw. 
 
 " Thought 1 stood engaged." Ingaged can hardly be used for 
 unengaged. Perhaps the poet may have written ungaged. B. 
 
 Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll 
 for this. 1*11 none of him. 
 
328 all's well that ends well, act v, 
 
 I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toule for this. 
 I'll none of him. 
 Thus the hr-i toho. The second reads : 
 
 J will buy me a son-in-law in a fain, and toule him for this. I'll non< 
 of him. 
 
 The reading of the first copy seems to mean this -. I'll buy me a new 
 son-in-law, \-c. and toll the bell for this ; i. e. look upon him as a dead 
 ma>.. — The second reading, as Dr. Percy suggests, may imply: I'll buy 
 nit a son-in-law as they buy a horse in a fair; foul him, i.e. eater him 
 on thf toul or toll-book, to prove I came honestly by him, and ascertain 
 my title tc him. 
 
 Alluding (as Dr. Grey observes) to the two statutes relating to the 
 sale of horses, 2 and 3 Phil, and Mary, and 31 Elix. c. 12. and publicly 
 tolling them in fairs, to prevent the sale of such as were stolen, and to 
 preserve the property to the right owner. 
 
 If the reading of the second folio be the tr je cne, we must alter the 
 punctuation thus : 
 
 " I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him : for this, I'll none 
 of him." Steev. 
 
 The commentators have totally mistaken the meaning of toule. 
 We must read and point thus : 
 
 " I'll buy ine a son-in-law in a fair : a toule. For this, I'll none 
 of him." 
 
 A toule is a toy. The word is found in Chaucer. Lafeu says, 
 he will go to a fair, and buy a toy, a puppet for a son-in-law ; he 
 will have nothing to do with Bertram. B. 
 
 King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you ; 
 And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, 
 Ytt you desire to marry. 
 
 1 wonder, s*>.] This passage is thus read in the first folio : 
 " I wonder, sir, sir, wives are monsters to you, 
 f* And that you fly them, as you swear them lordship, 
 " Yet you desire to marry." 
 Which may be corrected thus : 
 
 " I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters," &c. 
 The editors have made it — "wives are so monstrous to you," and in the 
 next line — swear to them, instead of — swear them lordship. Though the 
 latter phrase be a little obscure, it should not have been turned out of 
 the text without notice. I suppose lordship is put for that protection, 
 which the husband in the marriage-ceremony promises to the wife. 
 Tyrw. 
 
 I read with Mr. Tyrwhitt, whose emendation I have placed in the 
 text. Steev. 
 
 " I wonder, Sir." The seeming error in the first folio is nothing 
 more than this sin' i. e. since— imperfectly printed ; so that the y 
 appeared like r. B ? 
 
OR, 
 
 WHAT YOU WILL, 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Duke. So full of shapes is fancy, 
 
 That it alone is high-fantastical. 
 
 . So full of shapes is fancy, 
 
 That it alone is high fantastical. 
 High fantastical means fantastical to the height. 
 So, in All's Well that ends Well : 
 
 '• My high-repented blames, 
 " Dear sovereign, pardon ine." Steev. 
 
 " That it alone is high-fantastical." 
 Query hight fantastical. Called (par excellence, as the French 
 say) fantastical. B. 
 
 Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. 
 
 As tall a man.] Tall means stout, courageous. Steev. 
 
 " Tall " does not here mean stout, courageous, hut great, of 
 elevated mien, and in the farther sense of perfect, accomplish'd : 
 reXyets [perfectus] whence Casaubon derives tall. This interpre- 
 tation gives pleasantry to the scene. B. 
 
 $ir. To. He's a coward, and a coystril, and will not 
 drink to my niece, till his brains turno'the toe like a 
 
530 twelfth night; OR, ACT I. 
 
 parish-top. What, wench ? Castiliano volgo ; for here 
 comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. 
 
 11 const) i>, ] i. e. a coward cork. It may however be a keslril 
 
 or a bastard hawk ; akmdofstcne hawk. Sri ,v. 
 
 A coysttil is a paltry groon>, one only fit to carry arms, but not to use < 
 them. So, in Holinshed's Description 9/ England, vol. I. p. 1S2: " Cos- 
 terels, or bearers of the amies of barons or knights." Vol. III. p. 248: 
 " So that a knight with his enquire and coistreil with his two horses." P. 
 272, " women, lackies, and coisterels, are considered as the warlike at- 
 tendants on an army. So again, in p. 127. and 2 17 of his History of Scot- 
 land. For its etymology, see Coustille and Coustillier in Cotgrave's Dic- 
 tionary. Tollet. 
 
 A " coistril" is likewise a lad, a stripling. It seems here to be 
 used for a milk-sop. "A coward and a coystril an he will not 
 drink." — i. e. A coward and a milk-sop if he will not drink, &c. B. 
 
 Castiliano volgo; ] We should read volto. In English, 
 
 put on your Castitian countenance; that is, your grave, solemn looks. 
 The Oxford editor has taken my emendation : But, by Cusfilian counte- 
 nance, he supposes is meant most civil and courtly looks. It is plain, he 
 understands gravity and formality to be civility and courtliness. Warb. 
 
 Castiliano volgo ; I meet with the word Castitian and Castilians in seve- 
 ral of the old comedies. It is difficult to assign any peculiar propriety to 
 it, unless it was adopted immediately after the defeat of the armada, and 
 became a cant term capriciously expressive of jollity or contempt. The 
 host in the Merry Wives of Windsor, calls Cains a Castitian king Urinal! 
 and in the Merry Devil of Edmonton, one of the characters says; " Ha! 
 my Castitian d.alogues !" 
 
 Cot^rave, however, informs us, that Custille not only signifies the no- 
 blest part-of Spain, but contention, debate, brubling, altercation. lis sont en 
 Casta le. There is a Jarre betwixt them; and prendre la Castille pour aulriiy.- 
 To undertake another man's quarrel. 
 
 Mr. Malone observes, that Castilianseems likewise to have been a cant 
 term for a finical affected courtier. So, in Marston's Satires, 1599 : 
 
 " The absolute Castilio, 
 
 " He that can all the points of courtship shew." 
 Again, 
 
 " When some she golden-slop'd Castilio 
 " Can cut a manor's strings at primero." 
 These passages, and others from the same writer, Mr. Malone supposes 
 to confirm Dr. Warburton's emendation, and Sir T. Hanmer's comment. 
 Marston, however, seems to allude to the famous Bilthasar Castiglioni, 
 whose most celebrated work was II Cortigiano, or The Courtier. Steev. 
 
 ' Castiliano volgo.' ' Castiliano' is not put for a Castilian. It 
 stands for the figurative expression, Custille, i. e. strife, debate. 
 ' Volgo,' is vulgar, worthless.* Castiliano Volgo/ — " This is all idle 
 or vulgar debate; for here comes sir Andrew to determine the 
 matter, to prove by his manners that I am right." That this is the 
 proper reading, the context, 1 think, will shew. 
 
 Castilio as used by Marston is evidently the proper name [Casta- 
 lio] of a man. B. 
 
 Sir To. You mistake, knight : accost, is, front her, 
 board her, woo her, assail her. 
 
 Accost, is, front her, board her 
 
SCENE Y. WHAT YOU WILL. 3$\ 
 
 Probably board her may mean no more than salute her, apeak to her, 
 &c. Sir Kenelm Digby, in his Treatise of Bodies, 1643. Co. Paris, p. 238, 
 speaking of a blind man says, " lie would at the fiVt abord of a stranger 
 as soone as he sp^kc to him Irame a right apprehtn^ion of his stature, 
 bulke, and manner of making." Editor. 
 
 ' Board her, woo her, &c.' ' Board' is, in this place, no doubt 
 the same as abord (i. e. address) as Mr. R. has already explained it; 
 though he seems uot to know that the word is French. It should be 
 printed bord or horde. 
 
 Aborder quelqu'un — to speak to any one. B. 
 
 Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? 
 
 Sir And. As any man in Ulyria, whatsoever he be, 
 under the degree of my betters ; and yet I will not corns- 
 pare with an old man. 
 
 and yet 1 will not compare with an old man. This is intended 
 
 as a satire on that common vanity of old men, in preferring their own 
 times, and the past generation, to the present. VVakb. 
 
 This stroke of pretended satire hut ill accords with the character of the 
 foolish knight. Ague-cheek, though willing enough lo arrogate to himself 
 such experience as is commonly the acquisition of age, is yet careful to 
 exempt his person from being compared with its bodily weakness. In 
 short, he would say with Falstafi'; — " J urn old in nothing but my under- 
 standing." Steev. 
 
 ' I will not compare with an old man/* Mr. Steevens's explana- 
 tion stands in need of an explainer, for what can we possibly under- 
 stand when lie tells us that Ague-cheek " is yet careful lo exempt 
 liis person from being compared with its bodily weakness?" He 
 further observes of Sir Andrew, that he would say, " I am old in 
 nothing but my understanding," that is, as Mr. Steevens conceives 
 of it, I am a deep filh'V. Be it so : and of some men it may be re- 
 marked that the} are old in every thing but their understanding. 
 Not but that ' old' may here be understood in two several ways : it 
 may mean old, as one who is practised, well-informed ; or old a$ 
 being weak, worn out. If we interpret the knight's expression 
 in the latter sense, Mr. Steevens's conceit respecting it is lost, and 
 If in the former, the same must be observed of mine. B. 
 
 Duke. Some four, or five, attend him ; 
 
 All, if you will, for I myself am best, 
 When least in company. 
 
 — r—for I myself am best, 
 When least in company. 
 " Nunquam minus solus quam cum solus." B. 
 
 Clo. I must catechize you for it, Madona ; Good my 
 mouse of virtue, answer me. 
 
 * My mouse of virtue.' What do the Editors understand by this 
 expression? I fancy they have never asked themselves the meaning 
 
332 twelfth night; or, ACT i. 
 
 of it. ' Mouse/ however, is not in this place the little 
 animal infesting houses, Arc. hut the French mousse which signifies 
 dull, heavy. It is here used substantively, (the comma must he taken 
 from virtue, and placed at mousse, J ' of virtue answer me' is " of 
 goodness answer me." The sense of the whole will be as follows. 
 " I most catechize you for it, Madona ; my sweet lack-wit, of goodness 
 pnswer me." This agrees with what he had said immediately before, 
 •' Mistaken in the highest degree \" By which he would insinuate 
 that the lady is dull: that she is of a heavy wit. In like manner 
 the figurative saying of the French, '* esprit mousse, a dullard, or 
 stupid person." B. 
 
 Cio. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou 
 speak'st well of fools. 
 
 Now Mercury indue thee with leasing,/br thou speak'st well of fools ! This 
 is a stupid blunder. We should resui, with pleasing, i. e. with eloquence, 
 make thee a gracious and powerful speaker, for Mercury was the god of 
 orators as well as cheats. But the first editors, who did not understand 
 the phrase, indue thee with pleasing, made this foolish correction ; more " 
 excusable, however, than the last editor's", who, when this emendation was 
 pointed out to him, would make one of his own; and so, in his Oxford 
 edition, reads, with learning ; without troubling himself to satisfy the 
 reader how the first editor should blunder in a word so easy to he under- 
 stood as learning, though they well might in the word pleasing, as it is 
 used in this place. Warb. 
 
 I think the present reading more humorous; May Mercury teach thee 
 io lie, since thou litst in favor of fools. John. 
 
 * Now Mercury indue thee with leasing.' ' Leasing' appears to be 
 the proper word . But leasing signifies not only lying but easiness, happi- 
 ness: [it ought to have been written leasen] and the latter is the sense 
 required here. Olivia has not uttered any lies in favor of fools, on 
 the contrary she has spoken nothing but truth. The Clown there- 
 fore says — May Mercury make thee happy, since thou speakest in 
 praise of fools. Mercury is invoked because he is the giver of peace ; 
 and peace is a principal ingredient in happiness, if not happiness it- 
 self. The goddess Felicitas is therefore represented by the ancients 
 with the caducous of that Deity, [Mercury] in her hand, as emblema- 
 tical of her power. B. 
 
 Oli. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present : 
 Is't not well clone ? 
 
 — Look you, sir, such a one I was this present : is't not zcell done f This is 
 nonsense. The change of was to wear, I think, clears all up, and gives 
 the expression an air of gallantry. Viola presses to. see Olivia's face ; 
 The other at length pulls off her veil, and says ; We will draw the curtain, 
 and shew you the picture. I wear this complexion to-day, I may wear 
 another to morrow; jocularly intimating, that she painted. The other, 
 vext at the jest, says, " Excellently done, if God did u\\." Perhaps, it may 
 be true, what you say in jest; otherwise 'tis an excellent face. 'TVs in 
 gram, &c. replies Oli ia. Warb. 
 
 I am not satisfied, with this emendation. She says, I was this present, 
 
ACT II. SC. II. WHAT YOU WILL. 335 
 
 instead of saying I am ; because she has once shewn herself, and perso- 
 nates the beholder, who is afterwards to make the relation. Stef.v. 
 Look yon, Sir, such a one I was f /lis present : lit not trell done f 
 * Such a one I was tins present,' is nonsense, as Dr. Warburton 
 observes. A single letter added, however, will set all right. I read. 
 
 ' Such a one I was, this presents,' 
 meaning,— " Such an one as I was when your lord saw me, this 
 presents, or shews you," [unveiling.] 
 
 J to. She took the ring of me, I'll none of it. 
 
 She took ll ' me, til none of it. Surely heve is an evident cor- 
 
 ruption. We should read, without doubt, 
 
 She took no ring of me ; I'll none of it. 
 
 f« afterwards : — "I kit //wring with her." — Viola expressly denies having 
 £ ven Olivia any ring. ll<>\v then can she assert, as ^he is made to do in 
 the uil copy, that the lady had received one from her? 
 
 This passage, us it stands at present, (as an ingenious friend observes 
 to me; might be rendered less exceptionable, by a different punctuation : 
 She took the ring of me ! — I'll none of it. 
 
 I am, however, still of opinion that the text is corrupt, and ought to be 
 corrected as above. Had our author intended such a mode of speech, h« 
 would, I think, have written, 
 
 •She look a ring of me! — I'll none of it. Mat.. 
 
 ' She took the ring of me.' This should be printed with a note of 
 interrogation. • She took the ring of me? i. e. " Does she say she 
 took the ring of me 1 However, I will none of it." By making the 
 circumstance of the ring a question — an illative question, as I would 
 call it, [" what am I to understand by this : what am I to iufer from 
 it?"] the sense is sufficiently clear. B.~ 
 
 — -^ — 
 
 Vio. She made good view of me ; indeed, so much, 
 That, sure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue, 
 For she did speak in starts distractedly. 
 
 her eyes hud lost her tongue. 
 
 We say a man Itses his company when they go one way and he goes 
 another. So Olivia's tongue lost her eyes ; her tongue was talking of the 
 duke, and her eyes gazing on his messenger. John. 
 
 1 Her eyes had lost her tongue.' Dr. Johnson's explanation is 
 harsh, and certainly wrong. To lose or loze had anciently the sense 
 of to puzzle. Viola says that ' Olivia's eyes had lost or los'd her 
 tongue,' i. c. that by gazing on her (Viola) she had become puzzled, 
 confounded, perplexed in her utterance : in a word, that she spoke 
 by starts, and distractedly. B. 
 
 Vio. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, 
 Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. 
 
 the prepwnr cut mi/ — ] Is, I believe, the dexterous fiend, or 
 
 enemy of mankind. John. 
 
 Pregnant is certainly dexterous, or ready. So in Hamlet ; " How preg" 
 nant sometimes his replies are." Steev. 
 
334 TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, ACT 11* 
 
 I do not think that " pregnant" in this place signifies dexterous, 
 but great, powerful, full of consequence. The ' pregnant enemy' is 
 Cupid, and not the Prince of Hell, as Dr. Johnson seems to 
 think. B. 
 
 Vio. How easy is it, for the proper false 
 la women's waxen hearts to set their forms \ 
 
 Hoic easy is il,f>r the proper false 
 In women's zcaxen he<rts to set their forms ! 
 Tliis is obscure. The meaning is, how easy is disguise to women; how 
 easily does their own falsehood, ontauv d in heir waxen changeable hearts, 
 enabie them to assume deceitful appearances! The two next lines are per- 
 haps transposed, and should he read thus : 
 
 For such as zee are made, if such we be, 
 Alas, our frailty h the. cause, not we. John. 
 lam not certain that this explanatic.n is just. Viola has been con- 
 demning them who disguise themselves, because Olivia had fallen in love 
 with the specious appearance. How easy is it, she add*, for those who are 
 at once proper (i. e. fair in their appearance) and false (i. e. deceitful) to 
 make an impression on the .hearts of women! — 1 he proper false is cer- 
 tainly a less elegant expression than the false' deceiver, but seems to mean 
 the same thing. A proper man, was the ancient phrase for a handsome 
 man. Steev. 
 
 * The proper false.' What there is so very elegant in the expres- 
 sion ' a false deceiver,' Mr. Steevens alone can tell. ' Proper false,' 
 however, must mean, not afalse deceiver, but on the contrary a real, 
 an actual deceiver. It is the latin proprius — real, genuine. John- 
 son has wholly mistaken the sense. B. 
 
 Sir And. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling 
 last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, of the 
 Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very 
 good, i'faith. I sent thee six-pence for thy leman ; 
 Had'stit? 
 
 1 sent thee sixpence for thy lemon, hadst it? But the Clown was 
 
 neither pantler, nor butler. The poet's word was certainly mistaken by 
 the ignorance of the printer. I have restored leman, i. e. I send thee six- 
 pence to spend on thy mistress. Theob. 
 
 I receive Theobald's emendation, because I think it throws a light on 
 the obscurity of the following speech. 
 
 Leman is frequently used by the ancient writers, and Spenser in particu- 
 lar. So again, in The Noble Soldier, 1634: 
 
 " Fright him as lie's embracing his new le?nan." 
 
 The money was given him .for his leman, i. e. bis mistress. He says he 
 did impeticoat the gratuity, i. e. he gave it to his'petticoat companion ; for 
 (says he) Ma hollo's nose is no whip/stuck, i. e. Malvolio may smell out our 
 connection, but his suspicion will not prove the instrument of our punish- 
 ment. My mistress has a white hand, and the myrmidons are no battle-ale 
 houses, i. e. my mistress is handsome, but the houses kept by officers of 
 justice are no places to make merry and entertain her at. Such may be 
 the meaning of this whimsical speech. A zohipstock is, I believe, the handle 
 of a whip, round which a strap ot leather is usually twisted, and is some- 
 times put for the whip itself. So, in Albumazar, 1616 : 
 
SC£i\K ill. WHAT YOU WILL. 33.7 
 
 " out, Carter. 
 
 " Hence, dirty whipetock, " Stf.ev. 
 
 ' I sent thee six pence for thy lemon.' ' Lemon' is certainly 
 wrong. J rhe Clown replies to Sir Andrew, that he accepted the 
 reward which the Knight had bestowed on him for the account he had 
 given of Pigrogromitus, &'c. 1 therefore read, ' I sent thee six pence 
 for thy lemma,' i. e. lor thy story. Lemma is, properly, an argu- 
 ment or proposition assumed: and the word is used by Sir Andrew 
 for story or tote. The tenor of the speech, as well as the reply to it, 
 will shew that this is the right reading. 1$. 
 
 Clo. I did impeticoat thy gratuity ; for Malvolio's 
 nose is no whip-stock : My lady has a white hand and 
 the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale hou -. 
 
 impeticos, 6:c. Tiiis, Sir T. Hanraer tells us, is the same with im- 
 
 pocket thy gratuity. He is undoubtedly right; but we must read, I did 
 
 impeticoat thy gratuity. The fools were kept in long coats, to which the 
 
 allusion is made. There is yet much in this dialogue which I do not under- 
 
 " stand. John. 
 
 The old copy reads — " I did impeticos thy gratilliiy." Mai.. 
 ' i did impeticos/ &C. It may not be amiss to premise, that in the 
 present scene there are many quaint and far -fetclTd expressions; and 
 that it is the business of an editor, in endeavouring to elucidate obscu- 
 rities, to keep as near as possible, in the change he proposes to make, 
 to the original reading : but always with a particular attention to the 
 context, and to the souse and spirit of his author. Instead then of ' im- 
 petticoat thy gratuity' asset down in the modern editions, and which 
 is wholly arbitrary, 1 would read : " I did impetree thy cosa, thy 
 graoility," [ihcgrati/ity of the old copy directs to this latter word.] Im- 
 petree is formed of the latin impetro, or rather of the french impetrer ; 
 the particular meaning of which is to gain by entreaty, but here used in 
 the general sense of to get, to receive Cosa is the Italian for a thing, 
 a trifle ; and gracilify [slenderness] is employed, by license, for a 
 slendtr do7iation. We now say, where a poorness or slenderness of 
 spirit is shewn, this i^ a very slender gift. But we will now consider 
 the whole. " I seut thee six pence for thy story,"- says Sir Andrew. 
 " bad'st it?'' to which the Clown makes answer, " I did get the trifle, 
 I did receive thy slender donation." To maintain the pleasantry of 
 the dialogue,— this, his reply, is put into pompous and affected lan- 
 guage, not very likely to be understood by the knight; who (while 
 his gift is held in contempt) supposes it to be an acknowledgment of 
 his kindness. 
 
 Without such reading and explication the fantasticalness of the 
 characters will be lost. It may be further remarked that the first thy 
 having been omitted through the carelessness either of the transcri- 
 ber or compositor, and ' cose' being joined from a like inattention to 
 impetree, impetrecose, the word approaches very nearly both in ap- 
 pearance and sound to impeticos, as received by the later editors. 
 * Gratility,' as I have before observed, naturally points out to usgra- 
 cility. The mistake was easily made by succeeding printers, but it 
 
335 twelfth night; or, ACT II. 
 
 was not so easy to set it right. That I have fallen on the true read- 
 ing, many circumstances, I think, will tend to confirm. B. 
 
 Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians. 
 
 A Catalan.} It is in viiin to seek the precise meaning of this term 
 of reproach. I have attempted already to explain it in a note on the 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. I find it used again in Love and Honw, by 
 Sir W. Davenaht, 1649 : 
 
 " Hang him, bold Cataian." Steev. 
 
 " My Lady's a Cataian." Nothing can here be understood of 
 " Cataian." Mr. Steevens observes that it is used in other plays. 
 I believe, however, that it is there printed in mistake for Catanian — 
 The people of Catania, and of former days, being remarkable for 
 their irregularities and vices. The epithet " base Cataian," as I elscr 
 where find it, inclines me the more to this opinion. With respect 
 to the word which Sir Toby means to employ, it would appear to be 
 tlie Cat in (baby, puppet) of the French. The knight, it should be 
 remembered, is in his cups. We may therefore read : " My Lady's 
 a Catin — a — a " (stammering as if in search of some other scornful 
 term.) " My Lady's a baby, a puppet, a nobody." This agrees 
 with his affected contempt of Olivia as shown in other parts of the 
 comedy. In fine, this reading conveys to us a meaning, and even a 
 good one, which the word in the text does not. 
 
 It should be noted that in " Catin — a — a" all the letters which 
 compose Cataian are found, and no others. B. 
 
 Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck 
 up ! 
 
 Sneck up /] The modern editors seem to have regarded this unintel- 
 ligible expression as tlie designation of a hiccup. 
 
 In Hen. IV. p. 1. Falstaff says : "The Prince is a Jack, a Sneak-cup," 
 i. e. one who takes his glass in a sneaking manner. I think we might 
 safely read sneak-cup, at least in Sir Toby's reply to Malvolio. Steev. 
 
 "Sneck up!" I think, should be written sneb-up. Sneb is an 
 old word for check, or rebuke. See Spenser. 
 
 We now say snub, and snap-up. When it is remembered that 
 Malvolio has taken upon him to admonish Sir Toby, the knight 
 may very naturally call him sneb-up, i. e. reprover. They have not 
 been talking of drinking, so that sneak-cup is hardly the word. B. 
 
 Mar. The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing 
 constantly but a time-pleaser ; an affected ass, that 
 cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths. 
 
 An affecticn'd asx.~\ Affect ion' d means affected. In this sense, I be- 
 lieve, it is used in Handel. : '■ No matter in it that could indite the au- 
 thor of affection." i. e. affectation^ Steev. 
 
 " An aftcction'd ass." It is wrong to put affected in the place of 
 affectioned. The latter expression includes the sense of affected 
 and something more. It means, a foolish fellow who is in love with him- 
 
ACT II. WHAT YOU WILL, 337 
 
 self, at the same time believing that every one is in love with him 
 too. The context will show, that I interpret the expression rightly. 
 " Affection," in Hamlet, is not affectation. See my note on the 
 passage. Ham. A. I. S. i. B. 
 
 Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color. 
 Sir And. And your horse now would make him an 
 ass. 
 
 Sir And. And your horse note, $c.] This conceit, though bad enough, 
 shows too quick an apprehension lor Sir Andrew. It should he given, I 
 believe, to Sir Toby ; as well as the next short speech i 0, 'twill be ad' 
 mirable. Sir Andrew does not usually give his own judgment on any 
 thing, till he has heard that of some other person. Tyrwh. 
 
 " And your horse now," &0. Mr. Tyrwhitt seems to forget that 
 fools have frequently happy hits. He says, however, that " Sir An- 
 drew does not usually give his own judgment on any thing till he 
 lias heard that of some other person." But Mr. Tyrrwhitt should 
 be told that in such case (that is, if the knight's opinion is to be 
 directed by another) the judgment which he may deliver it not hit 
 own, it is the judgment of the other person. B. 
 
 Sir To. Send for money, knight ; if thou hast her 
 not i' the end, call me Cut. 
 
 Call me Cut.] So, in a Woman's a Weathercock, 1612 : "If I help you 
 not to that as cheap as any man in England, call me Cut." This con- 
 temptuous distinction is likewise preserved in the Merry Wives of Wind- 
 sor : 
 
 " He will maintain you like a gentlewoman — 
 
 " Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, under the degree of a 
 'squire." Steev. 
 
 " Call me cut," i. e. Call me wine-bibber — call me drunkard. 
 This is highly natural. Men are very apt to rail against the vices 
 that themselves are addicted to. Wc now say of a man who has 
 been drinking to excess, that he is cut. That Sir Toby means to 
 stigmatize the drunkard, is evident from a scene in the first act of 
 this play, in which he says to an attendant — half drunk himself — 
 " how now, sot? " The meaning of " come cut and long tail," is 
 totally different. It should, however, be printed, come curt and 
 long faille. (Curtus, latin: and tattle french.) that is, "of high 
 or low stature." vulg. long tail or short tail. i. e. Whatever de- 
 scription, of men it may be: whichever may chance to come, of 
 whatever size or degree. B. 
 
 Vio. She never told her love, 
 
 But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
 Feed on her damask cheek ; she pin'd in thought ; 
 And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
 She sat like patience on a monument, 
 Smiling at grief. 
 
 Shak. I. y 
 
33S TWELFTH NIGHT I OR, ACT 12. 
 
 She sat like patience on a monument, 
 Smiling at grief.] 
 Mr. Theobald supposes this might possibly be borrowed from Chau- 
 cer : 
 
 " And her besidis wonder discretlie 
 " Dame patience ysittinge there I fonde 
 " With face pale, upon a hill of sonde." 
 And adds : " If he was indebted, however, for the first rurle draught, 
 how amply has he repaid that debt, in' heightening the picture ! How 
 much does the green and yellow melancholy tianscend the old bard's pale 
 face ; the monument his hill of sand." — I hope this critic does not imagine 
 Shakspeare meant to give us a picture of the face of patience, by his 
 green and yellow melancholy ; because, he says, it transcends the pale 
 face of patience given us by Chaucer. To throw patience into a fit of 
 melancholy, would be indeed very extraordinary. The green and yellow 
 then belonged not to patience, but to her who sat like patience. To give 
 patience a pale Jace was proper : and had Shakspeare described her, he 
 had done it as Chaucer did. But Shakspeare is speaking of a marble 
 statue of patience ; Chaucer, of patience herself. And the two represen- 
 tations of her, are in quite different views. Our poet, speaking of a 
 despairing lover, judiciously compares her to patience exercised on the 
 death of friends and relations; which affords him: the beautiful picture 
 of patience on a monument. The old bard speaking of patience herself,, 
 directly, and not by comparison, as judiciously draws her in that cir- 
 cumstance where she is most exercised, and has occasion for all her vir- 
 tue ; that is to say, under the losses of shipwreck. And now we see why 
 she is represented as sitting on a hill of sand, to design the scene to be 
 the sea-shore. It is finely imagined; and one of the noble- simplicities- 
 of that admirable poet. But the critic thought, in good earnest, that 
 Chaucer's invention was so barren, and his imagination so beggarly^ 
 that he was not able to be at the charge of a monument for his goddess, 
 but left her, like a stroller, sunning herself upon a heap of sand. 
 Wahb. 
 
 She sat like patience on a monument, 
 Smiling at grief. ~\ So in our author's Rape of Lucrece. 
 " So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes." 
 In the passage in the text, our author, I believe, meant to personify 
 Grief as well as Patience ; for we can scarcely understand " at grief " 
 to mean "in grief:" as no statuary could, I imagine, form a counte- 
 nance in which smiles and grief should be at once expressed. Perhaps 
 Shakspeare borrowed his imagery from some ancient monument, on 
 which these two figures were represented. Mal. 
 
 " And with a green and yellow melancholy," &c. 
 This is a generally admired passage. I yet suspect that it is 
 corrupted. The epithejt descriptive of the hue of melancholy, 
 should be either pale or I/lack. " Green and yellow " are very 
 inapplicable. But it is not of color : it is not of bodily appear- 
 ance, but mental affection that Viola speaks. The first is suffi- 
 ciently marked by 
 
 " She let concealment like a worm i- the bud, 
 " Feed on her damask cheek." 
 Instead of " a green and yellow/* ther* I would read agrein and 
 hallow, — not only as being highly significant in themselves, but 
 appropriate and nicely suiting with the context. Agrcin (in old 
 
SCENE IV. ^HAT YOU WILL. 3S9 
 
 laneuage) is contented; resigned to; pleased. — Hallow is here 
 used for pure, saint-like, [palis Sax. holy.] The h in the latter 
 word, will, when turned, appear likey, and the e in yellow having 
 a hard sound, the mistake was easily hiade. It may he proper to 
 observe, however, that hallow with the earlier writers is a substan- 
 tive and made use of to signify a saint. But "hallow" should 
 not here be objected to by reason that there is no example of it, as 
 an epithet. Shakspeare frequently employs a substantive adjec- 
 tively, and vice versa ; and that too, with a happiness peculiar to 
 himself. Read: 
 
 " She never told her love, 
 
 But let concealment like a worm i' th' bud, 
 
 Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ; 
 
 And with agrein and hallow melancholy, 
 
 She sat like Patience on a monument, 
 
 Smiling at grief," 
 The sense is : " She evinced perfect calmness. A contented, pure, 
 religious kind of melancholy (and not a morbid affection) had pos- 
 session of her." This is eminently beautiful: a just and striking 
 picture of that mind which has cause for sorrow, but which, from 
 not being altogether hopeless, is consequently without tumult : and 
 this the more especially, as it is influenced by virtue. With re- 
 spect to " patience on a monument," I do not consider it as spoken 
 of a marble statue, but of Patience' self. " She (Viola) sat as 
 Patience would sit on a monument : " for strengthened by religion 
 and philosophy, it is presumed of patience, that she would appear 
 smiling at sight of the tomb : at that, in short, which ordinarily 
 is seen to occasion dejection, and when visiting the mansions of the 
 dead. It is remarkable that Rowe, when citing this passage, and 
 when speaking of the beauty of Shakspeare's imagery, has omitted 
 
 " And with a green and yellow melancholy." 
 He saw, as we may suppose, (coloring still understood by him) 
 that tlie representation was not in nature ; and though he must 
 have known that the epithet pale or black was, as I have just 
 remarked, sufficiently suited to melancholy; yet as these epithets 
 were every way unlike to those in the text, he did not venture to 
 make use of them. None other, however, occurred to him, aud the 
 line was accordingly struck out. 
 
 Let us suppose, however, for a moment, that it is really the tincts 
 of melancholy that are intended to be shown. This admitted, we 
 may fairly and properly try the expression of the poet, by the ex- 
 pression of the painter: for that the latter is able to seize or repre- 
 sent on his canvas every thing that is tangible, with every thing 
 that is perceptible by the eye is certain ; all delineations of visible 
 nature being common to both. I say visible, for it must be remem- 
 bered of the painter that it is matcriate, and not intellectual pro- 
 perties that lie has power to show. He cannot, like the poet, call 
 forth the soul, the immortal spirit (if the language be permitted 
 me) at once to our view : he can only so far express a passion or 
 
S40 TWELFTH NIGHT : OR, ACT If, 
 
 affection ns to enable us to form some idea, some conception of his 
 design. In a word, to briug us acquainted with universal nature is 
 impossible to Lis art : and even with respect to particular nature, 
 he can in many instances only make her known to us by signs 
 imperfect; Imperfect, as falling infinitely short of those "which 
 we distinguish by the name of words. For example: if the paint- 
 er's intention be to represent melancholy, he has no other way of 
 doing it but by a dejected air. Mixed melancholy, or such as I 
 have already spoken of, he is unable to depict. It is true, indeed, 
 that from the beauty or excellence of his pencil, we may figure 
 these qualities to ourselves : but it is the Poet, I repeat, who alone 
 can give them reality, or as I would call it, life : and thus it is that 
 Iiis exhibitions have so great a superiority over all other imitative 
 arts. But, as before proposed, let us see if the poet's coloring be 
 true : that is, as it at present stands. Let us try it, by the prac- 
 tice of the painter : and this, as it is of appearance that we speak, 
 is surely a clear and determinate mode. Nature and Shakspeare are 
 confessedly the same. The artist, then, is to copy the poet ; and 
 he accordingly in his picture of melancholy depaints her by green 
 and yellow tints. Risum teneatis? or will it be acknowledged that 
 these tints are suitable to the character ? In fine, will it be said 
 that they convey to us a just and faithful idea of the object he 
 means to pourtray ? B. 
 
 Mai. There is an example for t. ; the lady of the 
 strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 
 
 The lady of the Strachy.J We should read Trachy, i. e. Thrace ; for 
 so the old English writers called it. Mandeville says : '* As Trachye 
 and Macedoigne, of the which Alisandre was kyng." It was common to 
 use the article the before names of places : and this was no improper 
 instance, where the scene was in Illvria. Wakb. 
 
 What we should read is hard to say. Here is an allusion to some old 
 story which I have not yet discovered. John. 
 
 Perhaps a letter has been misplaced, and we ought to read — starchy ; 
 i. e. the room in which linen underwent the once most complicated ope- 
 ration of starching. I do not know that such a word exists ; and yet it 
 would not be unanalogically formed from the substantive starch. In 
 Harsnett'sDechnatiou, 1603, we meet with " a yeoman of the sprucery ; " 
 i.e. wardrobe; and in the Northumberland Household Book, nursery is 
 spelt, nurcy. Starchy, therefore, for starchery may be admitted. In 
 Romeo and Juliet, the place where paste was made, is called the pastry. 
 The lady who had the care of the linen may be significantly opposed to 
 the yeoman, i. e. an inferior officer of the wardrobe. While the five dif- 
 ferent colored starches were worn, such a term might have been current. 
 In the year 1504, a Dutch woman professed to teach this art to our fair 
 country-women. " Her usual price (says Stowe) was four or five pounds 
 to teach them how to starch, and twenty shillings how to seeth starch.'' 
 The. alteration was' suggested to me by a typographical error in The 
 World toss'd at Tennis, 1620, by Middleton and Rowley, where straches is 
 prinlid for starches. 1 cannot fairly be accused of having dealt much in 
 conjccLural emendation, aud therefore feel the less reluctance to hazard 
 > on this desperate passage. Steev. 
 
SCENE V. WHAT YOU WILL. 34)1 
 
 In B. Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, a gingerbread woman is called lady 
 of the basket. Mai.. 
 
 "The lads of the Strachy." I would read the lady of the 
 sfitch'ry. To talk of the lady of a starchery, appears absurd, 
 because the employment of starching is, undoubtedly, a menial 
 one : at any rate, the condition of such a woman is certainly not 
 above that of yeoman of the wardrobe. Now this being the case, 
 Malvolio will fail in his instance, should we adopt the starchy of 
 Mr. S. It is otherwise, however, with the reading I have proposed, 
 as the lady of the sfitch'ry will mean the companion of some dis- 
 tinguished female : one who sits at needle-work with her ; and con- 
 sequently of a superior situation in life, to the aforesaid yeoman : 
 and such an instance, it should be remembered, is here required. 
 In the play of Coriolanus, Folumnia, Valeria, and a gentlewoman 
 are discovered sewing. After a little conversation respecting 
 Caius Marcius, the latter says : *' Come, lay aside your stitchery." 
 I am, therefore, probably right in the word. " There is example 
 for it," as Malvolio observes, and thus the Poet becomes in some 
 sort a comment on himself. Slilch'ry might be easily corrupted 
 into strachy at the press of a printer in the sixteenth century. The 
 r misplaced, and a made use of instead oft, constitute the mistake: 
 a very trifling one, though it has so greatly puzzled the commen- 
 tators. The reading proposed by Warburton might perhaps be the 
 true one, were we permitted to print " a lady of the Trachye :" for 
 to the article the before Trachye, no objection should be made : it 
 is according to the French idiom, and which was common in Shaks- 
 peare's time. But the expression, " the lady of the " seems to 
 point at some particular employment: and it is on this account, 
 principally, that I believe the learned commentator to be wrong. 
 
 B. 
 
 m 
 
 Mai. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, 
 make out for him : I frown the while ! and, perchance, 
 wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby 
 approaches ; curtsies there to me. 
 
 Or play zrith some rich jewelJ] The old copy has : 
 
 or play with my some rich jewel. Mir., 
 
 " My some rich jewel." The use of the pronoun in this place, 
 which is according tu the French idiom, shows that our author was 
 well acquainted with that language. B. 
 
 Curtsies there to me.] From this passage one might suspect that the 
 manner of paying respect, which is now confined to females, was equally 
 used by the. other sex. Reed. 
 
 " Curtsies to me." When Malvolio says : " Curtsies to me there," 
 he means " pays court to me, does me a kind of homage." " Cur- 
 tesy," in the passage here adduced, means complaisance and not any 
 bodily motion. B. 
 
342 TWELFTH night: or, act in. 
 
 Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, 
 yet peace. 
 
 Though our silence be drawn from us with cares.] i. e. though it is the 
 greatest pain to us to keep silence. Yet the Oxiord editor has altered it 
 to: 
 
 " Though our silence be drawn from us by the ears." 
 There is some conceit, I suppose, in this, as in many other of his altera- 
 tions, yet it often lies so deep that the reader has reason to wish he 
 could have explained his own meaning. Warb. 
 
 I believe the true reading is : Though our silence be drawn from us with 
 carts, yet peace. In the Two Gentlemen of Verona, one of the Clowns 
 says: "I have a mistress, but who that is, a team of horses shall not 
 pluck from me" So, in this play : " Oxen and wainropes will not 
 bring them together." John. 
 
 " Though our silence be drawn from us with carts, yet peace." 
 The expression is not only harsh but nonsensical. Silence is 
 nothing but the absence of sound: we cannot therefore talk of 
 drawing forth a nihility — it can only be spoken of that which is 
 perceivable by one or more of our senses. But the reading is 
 every way wrong ; for I repeat, the principle on which it would 
 proceed : " Silence may be drawn from us," is essentially bad : it 
 is false. Yet, admitting for a moment, that it were a practicable 
 thing, in what way is it to be brought about : in what manner is 
 this silence to be drawn ? Why it is to be done " with cars." This, 
 1 imagine, no one will pretend to understand. For "cars" we 
 must read ears, and print the sentence thus : " Silence ! though 
 our ears be withdrawn from us, yet peace ! " The sense of the 
 passage is this : " Let us be silent : for though the consequence of 
 that silence were, that we should ever after be deprived of the 
 sense of hearing, yet must we attend, yet must we listen to this 
 consummate coxcomb : therefore peace !" 
 
 The Poet uses " ears," for the sense of hearing. B. 
 
 Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and 
 become thy bond-slave ? 
 
 Tray-trip.] Tray- trip is mentioned in Beaumont and Fletcher's 
 Scornful Lady, lbli> : 
 
 The following passage might incline one to believe that tray-trip was 
 the name of some game at tables, or draughts. " There is great danger 
 of bein^ taken sleepers at tray-trip, if the king sweep suddenly." Cecil's 
 Correspondence, lett. x. p. 136. Ben Jonson joins tray-trip with mum- 
 chance. .Alchemist, Act V. sc. iv. 
 
 " Nor play with costar-mongers at mum-chance, tray-trip." Tyrw. 
 
 " Tray-trip," or as it is sometimes written, " trea-trip " may be the 
 same as the tables now called Tron Madame or nine holes. The 
 word appears to be compounded of tre (thrice) and trip (triple) 
 i. e. three times three, or. nine holes. B. 
 
 Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. 
 
SCENE IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 343 
 
 Taste your k<:*, sir, <£c] Perhaps this expression was employed to ridi- 
 cule the fantastic use of a verb, which is many times as quaintly intro-' 
 duced in the old pieces, as in this play, or in The true Tragedies of Ma- 
 rt us a 'id Sci/la, 1594 : 
 
 " A climbing tow'r that did not taste the wind.'' 
 Again, in Chapman's version of the 21st Odyssey : 
 
 " he now began 
 
 " To taste the bow, the sharp shaft look, tugg'd hard." Steev. 
 " Taste your legs, Sir." An ambiguity seems to have been in- 
 tended. Taster, in French, is to taste and likewise to feel or make 
 use of When a horse has come stiff from the stable, and after- 
 wards goes well ; wc say ; He begins to feci his legs. B. 
 
 Mul. " Let thy tongue tang with arguments of 
 state, — put thyself into the trick of singularity." 
 
 Let thy taflgwe'tang, &c] The first folio rcudi lunger ; the second 
 tang. Steev. 
 
 " Tongue tang." The reading of the first folio " langer" is by 
 for the best. Langer is derived of Languard old French, and it 
 is thus explained in the Dictionaries Qui ne sauroit tenir sa languc. 
 A babbler, a prattler. B. 
 
 Sir To. At which time, we will bring the device to 
 the bar. and crown thee for a finder of madmen. 
 
 A finder of madmen.] This is, I think, an allusion to the witch-finders, 
 who were very busy. Jonx. 
 
 " A finder of madmen." Rather, I should suppose to the Coro- 
 ner : who in cases of self murder, and under certain circumstances 
 will find or bring in a verdict of lunacy. B. 
 
 Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil ; I have not 
 seen such a virago. 
 
 J hate not seen such a virago.] Virago cannot be properly used here, 
 unless we suppose Sir Toby to mean, I never saw one that had so much 
 the look of woman with the prowess of man. John. 
 
 The old copy reads— -fii-ago. A virago always means a female war- 
 rior, or, in low language, a scold, or turbulent woman. In Heywood's 
 Golden Age, 1611, Jupiter enters " like a nymph or virago ; " and says: 
 " I may pass for a hona-roba, a rounceval, a virago, or a good manly 
 lass." 'If Shakspeare (who knew Viola to be a woman, though Sir 
 Toby did not) has made no blunder, Dr. Johnson has supplied the only 
 obvious meaning of the word. Firago may however be a ludicrous term 
 of Shakspeare's coinage. Steev. 
 
 " Such a virago," The old copy reads firago, which, says Mr. 
 Si ee vens, may have been coined by Shakspeare. I incline to that 
 opinion, only that it should be written ferago. It seems to be com- 
 pounded of two latin words, fer (for ferrum) and ago. i. e. iron-like. 
 "Such a ferago, such an iron-like fellow :" this agrees with the 
 *est of the reading. B, 
 
344 TWELFTH NIGHT : OK, ACT IV. 
 
 Vio. I my brother know 
 
 Yet living in my glass ; even such, and so, 
 In favor was my brother; and he went 
 Still in this fashion, color, ornament, 
 For him I imitate : Oh, if it prove, 
 Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! 
 
 " Oh, if it prove." This oil should surely he so. Otherwise we 
 are required to read : "Oh, if it prove so." Which creates an ugly 
 kind of cacophony, or jingle. B. 
 
 Oli. Go with me to my house ; 
 
 And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
 This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby 
 May* st smile at this. 
 
 This ruffian hath botch'd up.] i. e. swelled and inflamed. A botch 
 being a swelling or abscess. Warb. 
 
 I fancy it is only a coarse expression for made up, as a bad taylor is 
 called a botcher, and to botch is to make clumsily. John. 
 
 " This ruffian hath botch'd up." Both Warburton and Johnson 
 are wrong. The reasoning of Olivia will not admit of botch'd in 
 either sense. The argument made use of is not that Sir Toby had 
 himself botch'd up the pranks which he had played, hut that she 
 (Olivia) had frequently put a stop to his excesses. The proper 
 word, I think, will be bonch'd, of boucher Fr. to stop. There is 
 likewise an ellipsis, and which is very common with Shakspeare. 
 The construction is : " Go with me to my house, and hear how 
 many pranks this Rudesby hath : [been engaged in, and which I 
 have] bouch'd up." " Fruitless," it is highly probable, should be 
 frontless, i. e. shameless, audacious. B. 
 
 Clo. I would I were the first that ever dissembled 
 in such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the 
 function well ; nor lean enough to be thought a good 
 student : but to be said, an honest man, and a good 
 housekeeper, goes as fairly, as to say, a careful man, 
 and a great scholar. 
 
 I am r.ot tall enough to become the function well.] This cannot be 
 right. The word wanted should be part of the description of a careful 
 7nci7). I should have no objection to read — pale. Tyjiw. 
 
 As to say, a careful man, and a great scholar.] This refers to what 
 went before: " I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor 
 lean enough to be thought a good student: " it is plain then that Shaks- 
 peare wrote, " as to say a graceful man, i. e. comely." To this the Ox- 
 ford editor says, rt-cte. Wakb. 
 
 A careful man I believe means a man who has suclra regard for bis 
 character as to entitle him to ordination. Stf.ev. 
 
 " I am not tall enough," &c. Warburton is no doubt righf 
 Graceful is the proper word, as referring to what had gone imme* 
 
SCENE II. WHAT YOU WILL. 345 
 
 diately before, except, indeed, that it bears not a sufficient analogy 
 to tall ; but this, I am of opinion should be taille, which in the 
 French language signifies not only shape, but portly ; of an elegant 
 carriage. The passage should be printed as follows : " I am not 
 of taille enough [portly enough] to become the function well, nor 
 lean enough to he thought a student ; but to be said an honest man 
 and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a graceful man, and 
 a great scholar." Here the words as they are congruent, will 
 surely be right. B. 
 
 Clo. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as bar- 
 ricadoes. 
 
 It hath bay-windows.] A hay-window is the same as a bow-window ; a 
 window in a recess, or buy. Si i.lv. 
 
 " It hath bay windows." A bay window is a window curved in- 
 wards, or made a concave, as it may be termed. A bow window is 
 one which is curved outward or in a convex form. How then can 
 a bow window and a bay window be the same ] B. 
 
 Clo. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed, or do 
 you but counterfeit ? 
 
 Tell me, are you not mad, — or do you but counterfeit ?] If he was not 
 mad, what did he counterfeit by declaring that he was not mad ? The 
 fool, who meant to insult him, I think, asks, " Are you mad, or do you 
 but counterfeit ? " That is : " You look like a madman, you talk like a 
 madman : Is your madness real, or have you any secret design in it? * 
 This, to a man in poor Malvolio's state, was a severe taunt. John. 
 
 Hut tell vie truly, arc you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit ?] 
 This is the reading of the old copy. We should read, I apprehend : are 
 you mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit f or else — are you not mad 
 indeed, and do you but counterfeit ? Mal. 
 
 " Are you not mad ? " The sense is mistaken by the commenta- 
 tors. "Are you not mad, indeed? or do you but counterfeit 1" 
 is the same as though he had said. In my opinion you are mad. 
 Is it so ; or do you only pretend to madness ? B. 
 
 Clo. Til be with you again, 
 In a trice, 
 Like to the old vice. 
 
 Like to the old vice.] Vice was the fool of the old moralities. Some 
 traces of this character are still preserved in puppet shows, and by 
 country mummers. John. 
 
 This character was always acted in a mask ; it probably had its name 
 from the old French word xus, for which they now use visage, though 
 they still retain it in vis £ vis, which is, literally, face to face. Steev. 
 
 " The old vice." Mr. Steevens's reason for supposing that the 
 vice of the old moralities had its name from visage, because the 
 character was always represented in a mask, is really curious and 
 unique. It should be remembered, however, that it was the busi- 
 ness of this Zany or Jester to take every opportunity of bantering 
 
345 TWELFTH NIGHT ' OR, ACT V. 
 
 the personages of the scene : and to mark them, when it could 
 be effected, for his own. It is therefore much more probable that 
 the word is derived from riser, to aim at : to have in view. B. 
 
 Seb. Where's Antonio then ? 
 
 I could not find him at the Elephant : 
 Yet there he was : and there I found this credit, 
 That he did range the town to seek me out. 
 
 Yet there he was ; and there £ found this credit, 
 That he did range, &c] 
 i. e. I found it justified, credibly vouched. Whether the word credit 
 will easily carry this meaning, I am doubtful. The expression seems 
 obscure ; and though I have not disturbed the text, I very much suspect 
 that the poet wrote : 
 
 " and there I found this credent. 
 
 He uses the same term again in the very same sense in the Winter's 
 Tale : 
 
 " Then 'tis very credent, 
 
 " Thou may'st cojoin with something, and thou dost," &c. Tiieob. 
 " I found this credit." Credit is employed participially : as is 
 frequent with Shakspeare. Or he may have written in credit 
 (en credit) according to the French idiom. B. 
 
 OIL If- it be ought to the old tune, my lord, 
 It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear, 
 As howling after musick. 
 
 As fat and fulsome.] We should read : as flat. Warb. 
 
 Fat means dull ; so we say a fatheaded fellow ; fat likewise means 
 gross, and is sometimes used for obscene ; and fat is more congruent to 
 fulsome than fat. John. 
 
 " As fat and fulsome." " Fat," the English word, is too inele- 
 gant for the mouth of Olivia. It is certainly the French fat which 
 Shakspeare has here employed adjectively. The meaning is : " It 
 is as impertinent and offensive to mine ear," &c. B. 
 
 Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure 
 or a pavin, 
 I hate a drunken rogue. 
 
 Then he's a rogue, and a passy-measwre pavin ; 
 A passy-measure pavin may perhaps mean a pavin danced out of time. 
 Sir Toby might call the surgeon by this title, because he was drunk at a 
 time when he should have been sober, and in a condition to attend on the 
 wounded knight. Panyn however is the reading of the old copy, 
 though the u in it being reversed, the modern editors have been con- 
 tented to read : 
 
 " And a past-measure painim." 
 This dance called the pavyn is mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher in 
 the Mad Lover : 
 
 " I'll pipe him such a pavan." 
 
SCENE I. M'HAT YOU WILL. 347 
 
 And in Stephen Gosson's School of Abuse, containing a pleasant invective 
 against Poets, Pipers, &c. 1579, it is enumerated, as follows, among 
 other dances. 
 
 " Dumps, pavins, galliards, measures, fancyes, or newe streynes." I 
 do not, at last, see how the sense will completely quadrate on the pre- 
 sent occasion. Sir VV. Davenant in one of his interludes, mentions " a 
 doleful puviu." In the Cardinal, by Shirley, 1652: " Who then shall 
 dance the pavin with Osorio?" Again, in 'Tis pity she's a Whore, by 
 Ford, 1633 : " I have seen an ass and a mule trot the Spanish pavin with 
 a better grace." Lastly, in Shadwell's Virtuoso, 1676 : " A grave pavin 
 oralmain, at which the black Tarantula only moved: it danced to it 
 with a kind of grave motion much like the benchers at the revels." 
 
 S I I I V . 
 
 Bailey's 1 dictionary says, paoan i« the lowest sort of instrumental mu- 
 sic ; and when tins play was written, the pavin and the passamezzo 
 might be in vogue only with the vulg..r, as with Falstaft and Doll 
 Tearsheet : and hence Sir Toby may mean — he is a rogue and a mean 
 low fellow. Tollet. 
 
 Then he's a rogue, and a passy measure pavin, 
 1 hate a drunken rogue.] 
 
 B. Jonson also mentions the pavin, and calls it a Spanish dance, 
 Alchemist, p. 97. but it seems to come originally from Padua, and should 
 rather be written pavane, as a corruption of paduuna. A dance of that 
 name (saltatio puduana) occurs in an old writer, quoted by the annota- 
 tor on Rabelais, b. v. c. 30. 
 
 i Passy measures is undoubtedly a corruption, but I know not how it 
 should be rectified. Tyrw. 
 
 Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure or a pavin, I hate a drunken 
 rogue, i. e. nejt to a passy measure or a pavin, &c. It is in character, 
 that Sir Toby should express a strong dislike of serious dances, such as 
 the passamezzo and the pavan are described to be. Tvuw. 
 
 I have followed Mr. Tyrwhitt's regulation, which indeed I ought to 
 have adopted in the edition preceding this. Steev. 
 
 " A rouge and passy-measure pavin." The Commentators have 
 totally mistaken the sense. They have been led into error by the 
 faulty printing of the quarto edition (paynyn for paynym) and by the 
 word pavin or pavan, and which, as it signifies a dance,\hey supposed 
 passy measure to mean the same, and that it is corrupted of passa- 
 mezzo. The fact, however, is, that passamezzo is not to be found 
 in either the Spanish or the Italian language, any more than passy- 
 measure is in the English. For pavin we must read painim, i. e. 
 heathen. As to pazzomezzo it is of Shakspeare's coinage: a com- 
 pound of pazzo [mad] and mezzo [half] i. e. half mad, or as we 
 should now say, ciackbrained, besotted. It is evident from the 
 conjunction "and" that Sir Toby would represent the surgeon 
 not only as a rogue, but something more. Now by the present 
 reading what would he prove him to be? " Then he's a rogue and 
 two dances," etc. The incongruence, not to say ridiculousness, of 
 the images, is easily seen. I read : " Then he's a rogue and a paz- 
 zomezzo painim," i. e. Then he's a rogue and a besotted Pagan, &c. 
 Here the whole is apposite and just. It may be urged that the 
 expression is extravagant and bombastic ; but it should be remem- 
 bered that this accords with the character of Sir Toby, and indeed 
 
348 TWELFTH NIGHT. ACT V. 
 
 with that of some others which are found in the play. But this I 
 have observed in a former note. B. 
 
 Duke. Your master quits you : and, for your service 
 done him, 
 So much against the metal of your sex, [To Viola. 
 
 So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, 
 And since you call'd me master for so long, 
 Here is my hand. 
 
 So much against the metal of your sex.] The old copy reads, I think 
 rightly : 
 
 So much against the mettle of your sex. 
 i. e. so much against the natural disposition of your sex. Mal. 
 
 *' Against the metal of your sex." I am persuaded that mittle 
 will be the right word here. In old language it signifies mightiness, 
 and is used by our poet for excellence, dignity, [natural, not ac- 
 quired] a sense which it will very well bear. 
 
 " So much against the dignity of your sex." 
 It is easily seen how much this change gives force to the expression, 
 B. 
 
Winter* %alt. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Cam. Their encounters, though not personal, have 
 been royally attorney 'd, with interchange of gifts, letters, 
 loving embassies. 
 
 royally attorney 1 J— Nobly supplied by substitution of embassies, 
 
 &c. John. 
 
 1 Royally attorney 'd.' It would seem that ■ attorney'd' should 
 be atoxirned (atoumer fr. to furnish out, to decorate) " royally 
 atourned," a splendid retinue, a magnificent suite. He speaks 
 immediately after, of " their loving embassies." 
 
 Her. I'll give you my commission, 
 
 To let him there a month, behind the gest, 
 Prefix'd for his parting. 
 
 behind the gest,] 
 
 Mr. Theobald says : he can neither trace, nor understand the phrase, and 
 therefore thinks it should be just; But the word gest is right, and signi- 
 fies a stage or journey. In the time of royal progresses the king's stages, 
 as we may see by the journals of them in the herald's office, were called 
 his gests ; from the old French word giste, diversorium. Warb. 
 
 In Strype's Memorials of Archbishop Cranmer, p. 283. The Arch- 
 bishop intreats Cecil, " to let him have the new resolved-upon gesls, from 
 that time to the end, that he might from time to time know where the 
 king was." 
 
 Again, in Friar Bacon and Friar Biuigay, 1599 : 
 " Castile, and lovely Elinor with him, 
 " Have in their gests resolved for Oxford town." 
 Again, in Vittoria Corombona, 161»; 
 
350 winter's tale. act i. 
 
 -" Do like the gests in the progress, 
 
 " You know where you shall find me." Steev. 
 1 Gest !' It is true that the word gest is frequently used for stage, 
 or journey. But gest will hardly accord with the words immediately 
 following — ' Prefixed for his parting.' Time, or season, would 
 give the proper sense. May we not therefore read ' hehind the 
 les,' i. e. beyond the season or time which had been settled for his 
 departure. Leson is found in Chaucer, and used for season. The 
 contraction is such as Shakspeare has frequently ventured on in other 
 words. He uses less for bounds or limits. B. 
 
 Leo. Why, that was when 
 Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death, 
 Ere I could n,_^e thee open thy white hand, 
 And clap thyself my love. 
 
 And clepe thyself my love ; 
 
 The old edition reads— clap thyself. This reading may be explained : 
 She open'd her hand, to clap the palm of it into his, as people do when 
 they confirm a bargain. Hence the phrase — to clap up a bargain, i. e. 
 make one with no other ceremony than the junction of hands. Steev. 
 
 " Clepe thyself, i. e. name thyself, is surely the reading that 
 should be preferred, A king should not be made to talk of clap- 
 ping vp a bargain. B. 
 
 m 
 
 Leo. I'fecks? 
 Why, that's my bawcock. 
 
 Why, that's my bawcock — ] Perhaps from beau and coq. It is still said 
 in vulgar language that such a one is a jolly cock, a cock of the game. The 
 word has already occurred in Twelfth Night, and is one of the titles by 
 which Pistol speaks of King Henry the Fifth. Steev. 
 
 Mr. Steevens is right, I believe, in saying that " bawcock" comes 
 from beau and coq ; but it can hardly be supposed that Leontes, a 
 king, should call his son a jolly cock, or a cock of the game. 
 
 " That's my bawcock," i. e. that's my fine fellow. 
 
 The Scots say, " Bra Cock." Bra is contracted of brave. B. 
 
 Leo. Thou wantst a rough pash, and the shoots that 
 I have, 
 To be full like me. 
 
 Thou zvani'sl a rough pash, and the s hoots that I have. 
 Pash is kiss. Paz, Spanish, i. e. thou want'st a mouth made rough by a 
 beard to kiss with. Shoots are branches, i e. horns. Leontes is alluding 
 to the ensigns of cuckoldbm. Steev. 
 
 A rough pash seems to mean a rough hide or skin. Perhaps it comes 
 from the plural of the French word peau, or from a corruption of the Teu- 
 tonic, peltz, a pelt. Tollet. 
 
 'Thou want'st a rough pash.' Leontes is talking of the ' rough 
 pash,' of a calf. Mr. Steevens accordingly tells us that to pash is to 
 kiss. But calves, I believe, are not remarkable for kissing. Per- 
 
SCENE II. WINTER'S TALE. 551 
 
 haps, indeed, the commentator might understand calf as the meto- 
 nymy of an idiot, ami consequently be thinking of the old saying, 
 thai fools are usually amorous. Pash, however, should probably 
 be bush,— that is, in the language of the Hunter, tail. Thou 
 wantest a tail to be as a calf, and horns to be like me. I am much 
 inclined to this reading, as I cannot hud any meaning in pash, and 
 as the b when turned at the press becomes a p, it will the more 
 readily perhaps be allowed to be right. B. 
 
 Leo. false, 
 
 As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes 
 No bourn 'twixt his and mine ; yet were it true 
 To say, this boy were like me — Come, sir page, 
 Look on me with your welkin eye. 
 
 No bourn ] Bourn is boundary. So, in Hamlet : 
 
 " from whose bourn 
 
 " No traveller returns. " Steev. 
 
 f ' No Bourn.' Bourn should here be printed Borne. Bourn is 
 a brook or river. B. 
 
 ■ welkin eye : ] 
 
 Blue-eye; an eye of the same color with the welkin, or sky. John. 
 
 ** A welkin eye" is a rolling eye, or as Leontes would insinuate, a 
 wanton eye, and such as he supposes Hermione's to be. Welkin, 
 comes from pelcan, Saxon, to roll about. B. 
 
 Leo. Affection ! thy intention stabs the center, 
 
 Affection ! thy intention stabs the center. 
 Instead of this line, which I find in the folio, the modern editors have 
 introduced another of no authority: 
 
 Imagination ! thou dost stab to the center. 
 Mr. Rowe first made the exchange. I am not certain that I understand 
 the reading which I have restored. Affection, however, I believe, signifies 
 imagination. Thus, in the Merchant of Venice : 
 
 affections, 
 
 Masters of passion, sway it, &c. 
 i. e. imaginations govern our passions. Intention is, as Mr. Locke expresses 
 it, " when the mind with great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view 
 on any idea, considers it on every side, and will not be called oft" by the 
 ordinary solicitation of other ideas." This vehemence of the mind seems 
 to be what affects Leontes so deeply, or, in Shakspeare's language, — 
 stubs him to the center. Steev. 
 
 * Affection ! thy intention,' &c. ' Affection' will scarcely stand 
 for imagination. It should rather be explained by feeling, sensibi- 
 lity. ' Intention' is not purpose, design, but intensencss, having 
 great strength or force. The meaning of the whole is this — '* Sensi- 
 bility ! thy force is great; thou stabb'st me to the heart, B. 
 
 Leo. Mine honest friend ? 
 
 Will you take e^gs for money ? 
 
 Will you take eggs for money ? 
 
352 winter's tale. act i. 
 
 This seems to be a proverbial expression, used when a man sees himself 
 •wronged and makes no resistance. Its original, or precise meaniag, I 
 cannot find, but I believe it means, will you be a cuckold for hire. The 
 cuckow is reported to lay her eggs in another bird's nest; he therefore 
 that has eggs laid in his nest'is said to be cucullus, cuckow'd, or cuckold. 
 
 John. 
 
 " Will you take eggs for money 1" The meaning is, Will you take 
 ayes (i.e. words) for money? Will you be imposed on? To this 
 Mamillius replies — 
 
 « No— I'll fight.' 
 
 Aie, in old language, is used both for the affirmative yes, and for 
 egg. See Chaucer. Aie, Aye, ((£u, Teut.)an egg. B. 
 
 Leo. Lower messes, 
 
 Perchance, are to this business purblind : say. 
 
 lower messes,] 
 
 I believe, lower messes is only used as an expression to signify the lowest 
 degree about the court. Steev. 
 
 ' Lower messes.' ' Messes' is evidently wrong. I think the Poet 
 may have written nesses, i. e. ignorants. (Nescius Lat.) Nescii 
 fari pueri. Hor. We may well suppose from the context that such 
 will be the reading. 
 
 Nescience is used by our old writers for ignorance. B. 
 — im 
 
 Cam. But I cannot 
 Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, 
 So sovereignly being honorable. 
 I have lov'd thee 
 
 Leo! Make that thy question, and go rot ! 
 
 But I cannot, &c] In former copies, 
 
 But I cannot 
 
 Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, 
 
 So sovereignly being honourable. 
 
 I have lov'd ihee 
 
 Leo. Make that thy question, and go rot ?] 
 The last hemistich assign'd to Camillo must have teen mistakenly 
 placed to him. It is disrespect and insolence in Camillo to his king, to 
 tell him that he has once lov'd him. 1 have ventured at a transposi- 
 tion, which .seems self-evident. Camillo will not be persuaded into a sus- 
 picion of the disloyalty imputed to his mistress. The king, who believes 
 nothing but his jealousy, provoked that Camillo is so obstinately diffident, 
 finely starts into a rage, and cries : 
 
 I've lov'd thee. — Make't thy question, and go rot ! 
 i. e. I have tendered thee well, Camillo, but I here cancel all former 
 respect at once. If thou any longer make a question of my wile's 
 disloyalty, go from my presence, and perdition overtake thee for thy 
 stubbornness. Tiieob. 
 
 I have admitted this alteration, as Dr. Warburton has done, but am 
 not convinced that it is necessary. Camillo, desirous to defend the 
 queen, and willing to secure credit to his apology, begins, by telling the 
 king that he has loved him, is about to give instances of his love, and to 
 infer from them his present zeal, when he is interrrupted, John. 
 
SCEXE IV. WINTER'S TALE. 353 
 
 I have restored the old reading. Camillo is about to tell Leontes how 
 much he had loved him. The impatience of the king interrupts him by 
 sayii g : Make that thy question, i.e. make the love of which you boast, 
 the subject of your future conversaaori) and go to die grave with it. 
 
 Steev. 
 
 I have lov'd thee 
 
 In the first and second folio, these words are the conclusion of Camillo's 
 speech. The later editors have certainly done right in giving them to 
 Leontes; hut I think they would come in better at the end of the line: 
 
 Make that thy question, and go rot ! / hare lov d thee. Tyrwh. 
 
 1 I have lov'd thee.' Mr.-Steevens informs us that lie has resto- 
 red the rsld reading: and this, indeed, is his constant practice when- 
 ever the reading is wrong. 
 
 The words in question must be given to Leontes. B. 
 
 Pol. As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto 
 Clerk-like, experiencYI, which no less adorns 
 Our gentry, than our parents' noble names, 
 in whose success we are gentle. 
 
 In whose success ue are gentle ; 
 
 I know not whether success here does not mean succession. John". 
 
 Gentle in the text is evidently opposed to simple ; alluding to the dis- 
 tinction between the gentry and yeomanry. Stffv. 
 
 ' Gentle' should be printed gentile, genlil, French. B. 
 
 Cam. I am appointed Him to murder you. 
 
 I am appointed Him to murder i,ou.] 
 i. e.I am the person appointed to murder you. Steev. 
 
 ' I am appointed him to murder you.' A Greeism. There are 
 other passages in Shakspeare in which the Hellenistic expression is 
 found, and which I have there noticed in proof of his some acquain- 
 tance with the learned languages." Small Latin, and less Greek." B. 
 
 Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, 
 As he had seen't, or been an instrument 
 To vice you to't, — that you have touched his queen 
 Forbiddenlv. 
 
 7b vice you to't, 
 
 i. e. to draw, persuade you. The character called the Vice, in the old 
 plays, was the tempter to evil. Wahb. 
 
 The vice is an instrument well known; its operation is to hold things 
 together. So the bailiff speaking of Falstaft : " If he come, but within my 
 vice, &c." A vice, however, in the age of Shakspeare* aright mean any 
 kind of clock-work or machinery. It may, indeed, be no more than a 
 corruption of " to advise you." So, in the old metrical romance of Syr 
 Guy of }\'ar<cick, bl. 1. no date : 
 
 u Then said the emperour Ernis, 
 
 " Methinketh thou sayest a good vyce." 
 My first attempt at explanation is, I believe, the best. Steev. 
 
 ' To vice you to it.' ' To vice,' or vise, ' you to it/ i.e. to force 
 you to it. Vis (lat.) force : or it may be formed on tiie French ex- 
 Shak. I. Z 
 
3£4 winter's tale. ACT I. 
 
 pression. Viser a quelqne chose. To drive at a thing ; to urge it in 
 a particular manner. 
 
 Mr. Steevens, if at any time he may have visited the Delphic 
 temple, has profited little by the inscription there. He certainly 
 does not know himself ; for his first attempt at explanation, is as bad 
 as his last. B. 
 
 Pol. Give me thy hand ; 
 
 Be pilot to me, and thy places shall 
 Still neighbour mine. 
 
 And thy places shall 
 Still neighbour mine :] 
 
 Perhaps Shafcspeare wrote—'' And thy paces shall," &c. Thou shalt be 
 my conductor, and we will both puisne the same path. — The old reading 
 however may mean — wherever -thou art, I v. ill still he near thee. Mal. 
 
 ' Thy places shall stiM neighbour mine.' The present reading is 
 extremely harsh. Shakspeare frequently makes use of Latin, French, 
 and Italian words; anglicising them at bis pleasure. I think be has 
 here taken an expression from the latter language — pace [peace, 
 quiet] and of which he has made paces, i. e. comforts. " Give me thy 
 hand," says Polixeoes ; " Go with me and thy peace and comfort 
 shall always be as mine own." 
 
 Or he may have employed the English word peace, plurally, for 
 comforts, enjoyments. B. 
 
 Pol. Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
 The gracious queen, part of his theam, but nothing 
 Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! 
 
 Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
 
 The gracious queen, ] 
 
 But how could this expedition comfort the queen ? on the contrary, it 
 would increase her husband's suspicion. We should read, 
 
 and comfort 
 
 1'he gracious queen's ; 
 i. e. be expedition my friend, and be comfort the queen's friend. The 
 Oxford editor has thought-fit to paraphrase my correction, and so reads; 
 
 Heaven comfort 
 
 The gracious queen ; Waeb. 
 Dr. Warburton's conjecture is, I think, just; but what shall be done 
 with the following words, of which lean make nothing ? Perhaps the 
 line which connected them to the rest is lost. 
 
 and comfo-rt 
 
 The gracious queen, part of his theme, hut nothing 
 Of his ill ta'en suspicion ! 
 Jealousy is a passion compounded of love and suspicion ; this passion is 
 the theme or subject of the King's thoughts. — Polixenes, perhaps, wishes 
 the queen, for her comfort, so much of that theme or subject as is good, 
 but deprecates that which causes misery. May part of the kino's present 
 sentiments comfort the queen, but away with his suspicion. This is such 
 meaning as can be picked out. John, 
 
ACT IT. SC. II. WINTER'S TALE. 355 
 
 The obscurity of this passage arises from the wrong pointing. I 
 read, 
 
 " Good expedition be niv friend and comfort, 
 "The gracious queen part of his theme, hut nothing 
 " Of his ill ta'en suspicion!" 
 The meaning is — may expedition he my friend and comforter; and 
 may the queen again hecome his [Leontes'] theme, but without sus- 
 picion. B. 
 
 Leo. He cracks his gorge, his sides, 
 
 With violent hefts. 
 
 violent hefts : ] Hefls arc heavings, what is heaved up. So, in 
 
 Sir Arthur Gorges' Translation of Lucan, 161 1 : 
 " But if a part of heaven's huge sphere 
 " Thou chuse thy pond'rous hefl to beare. Stfev. 
 ' Violent hefts.' ' Heft' is weight. The word, however, has no 
 sense here. We must read : hests, i. e. heats, violent actions. B. 
 
 Leo. He hath discoyerd my design, and I 
 Remain a pinch'd thing ; yea, a very trick 
 For them to play at will. 
 
 He hath discover' d my design, and I 
 
 Remain a pinch'd thing; ] 
 
 Alluding to the superstition of the vulgar, concerning those who were 
 enchanted, and fastened to the spot by charms superior to their own. 
 
 Warb. 
 
 The sense, I think, is, He hath now discovered my design, and I am 
 treated as a mere child's baby, a thing pinched out of clouts, a puppet for 
 i hem to move and actuate as they please. Dr. Warburton's supposed 
 allusion to enchainments is quite beside the purpose. Rev. 
 
 This seilse is possible, but many other meanings might serve as 
 well. John. 
 
 " Pinch'd thing" should certainly he pinchin, i. e. one who is to 
 he played upon. The word is used by Chaucer. Pinccr, Fr. to 
 jeer, to banter, or we may read "pined thing/' — one who is mocked 
 or made a jest of. B. 
 
 Leo. Away with her to prison : 
 
 lie, who shall speak for her, is afar off guilty 
 lint that he speaks. 
 
 Hi who bha 1 1 speak for her is far off guilty, 
 ])uL that he speaks.] 
 Far off guilty, signifies, guilty in a remote degree. John. 
 1 think we should read, 
 
 " He who shall speak for her afar off, is guilty 
 " But that he speaks." 
 ^Meaning, he who barely insinuates that she is innocent, Sfc. B. 
 
 Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves : 
 You are abus'd, and by some putter-on, 
 
3.56 WINTER*! TALE. ACT If. 
 
 That will be damn'd for t ; 'would I knew the villain, 
 I would land-damn him. 
 
 ■ — Inn ■/ damn him ; 
 
 Sir T. IJanmer interprets, stops his urine. Lnnd or lant being the old' 
 word for urine. 
 
 L(ind-d(nnn is probably one of those word? which caprice brought into- 
 fashion, and whi< h, alter a short time, reason and grammar drove irreco- 
 verably away. It perhaps meant no more than I will rid I lie country of 
 him, condemn him to quit the land. John. 
 
 Land-damn liim, if such a reading can be admitted, may mean, he vould 
 procure sentence In lit pad on him in. this world, on thin earth. 
 
 Antigonus could no way make good the threat of stopping his urine'. 
 Besides, it appears too ridiculous a punishment for so atrocious a crimi- 
 nal. It'must be confessed, that what Sir T. Ilanmer has said concerning 
 the word lant is true. I meet with the foil-owing instance in Glapthome's 
 Mil in a Constable, 1(330 : 
 
 "Your frequent drinking country ale with lant in't.' r 
 And, in Shakspeare's time, to drink a lady's health in urine appears to 
 have been esteemed an act of gallantry. Une instance (for I could pro- 
 duce many) may suffice : " Have I not religiously vow'd my heart to 
 you, been drunk for your health, eat glasses, drank urine, stabb'd atms r 
 and done ah the offices of protested gallantry for your sake ?" Antigo- 
 nus, on this occasion, may therefore ha.veadirty meaning. Steev. 
 
 ' Land damn hire.' I cannot discover any meaning in . ' Land damn 
 him.' I think we should read fatigue dam him, i. e. I ivould stop his- 
 tongue. I would murder him. When it is recollected that Antigonu* 
 is speaking of slander, ' langue dam him,' is very likely to be the 
 right reading. Langue has probably been written king. The mis- 
 take was ens v. 
 
 With respect, however, to lant, it certainly signifies urine. But 
 the conceit of stopping his urine, is too contemptible for a moment's 
 consideration. In the quotation from Glapthorne, lant or land 
 [for the word is written indifferently] is not to be understood as ex- 
 press; re of urine. 'Ale wilh lant [or land] in it,' is, — " Ale with 
 tpurge in it,"' a plant sometimes called land leaper's spurge, [Tithy- 
 malus.J A quibble is evidently intended. Mr. Steevens is miserably 
 mistaken in his notion respecting the " act of gallantry," as he calls 
 it : " eating glasses and drinking urine," is nothing more than aplay 
 on ivords, eating glaces, [t'r] i.e. ices : and drinking tn'ens flat.] hot, 
 burning liquors. The whole is meant to insinuate that there is 
 nothing which he would" not undertake or endure in the hope of; 
 gaining his mistress' favor : — he would run the hazard of being. 
 chilled or burnt to death. B. 
 
 Paul. These dangerous unsafe limes o'the king ! be- 
 shrew them ! 
 He must be told ont, and he shall : the office 
 Becomes a woman best ; I'll tak't upon me. 
 
 These dangerous unsafe lunes o' the king ! 
 I have no where, but in our author, observed this word adopted in our 
 tongue, to signify, frenzy,, lunacy. But it is a mode of expression with 
 
ACT III. sc. ii. winter's TALL. o57 
 
 the French. — II y a de la lime : fi. c. he has got the mocn in his head ; 
 he is frantiek.) Cotgrave. " Lune, folic LesJ'emmes ont des limes dans 
 latite. llichelet." Thlob. 
 
 A similar expression occurs in the Revenger's Tragedy, 1608: w I know 
 'twas but some peevish moon in him." Limes, w.ere part of the accou- 
 trements of a hawk. So, in Greene's Mamillia : " vcr<, m seeking to un- 
 loose the lunes, the more she was intaugled." Srr.i.v. 
 
 ' Unsafe lunes of the king.' What can the accoutrements 
 Tas Mr. Steevcns is pleased to call the (cashes or erianfs for the 
 Hawk] have to do in the present business? But as to the fanes 
 (decoys) of the Falconer, it should he written lures. The word fanes 
 is no doubt found in the Sportsman's vocabulary, but it is evidently 
 a corruption. Lunes, and lures, however, are used indifferently by 
 all. Lure is properly the device set up to call the hawk, fane [lien 
 >fr.] is the string or thong to which the device is fastened. B. 
 
 PauL The pretty dimples of his chin, and check; his 
 smiles ; 
 The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger. 
 
 ■ -Am smiles-. These two redundant words might be rejected, 
 
 especially as the-child has already been represented as the inheritor of its 
 father's dimples and J) owns. Stf.ev. 
 
 ' His smiles.' The words are no way redundant. Dimples which 
 are naturally formed in the cheeks, are not, by consequence. 
 s miles. B. 
 
 Clto. The climate's delicate ; the air most, sweet ; 
 Fertile the Isle ; the temple much surpassing 
 The common praise it bears. 
 
 Fettle the isle ; 
 
 But the temple of Apollo at Delphi was not in an island, but in Phocis, 
 on the continent. Either Shakspeare or his editors, had their heads 
 running on Delos, an island of the Cyclades. If it was the editors' 
 
 blunder, then Shakspeare wrote: Fertile the soil, which is more 
 
 elegant to®, than the present reading. Wake. 
 
 Shakspeare is little careful of geography. There is no need of this emen- 
 dation in a play of which the whole plot depends upon a geographical 
 error, by which Bohemia is supposed to be a maritime country. John. 
 
 ' Fertile the Isle.' This remark of the learned prelate is some- 
 what strange. The temple of Apollo at Delphi was certainly not in 
 an Island ; but he must surely have known that a temple was erected 
 lo that deity at Delos., whence were delivered oracles [as we gather 
 from the Historian] " not only not inferior to those at Delphi, but 
 far exceeding them, and all other oracles of Apollo ; being given in 
 < Icarand plain terms without any ambiguity or obscurity whatever." 
 Alex, ab Alex. B. 
 
 Her. I appeal 
 
 To your own conscience, sir, before Polixcnes 
 Came to your court, how I was in your grace, 
 
3.58 winter's tale. Act in. 
 
 Hon- merited to be so ; Since he came, 
 With what encounter souncurrent I 
 Have strain'd, to appear thus ? 
 
 Since he came, 
 
 With what encounter so vncurrent I 
 Have strain'd, to appear thus ?- 
 
 These lines I do not understand; with the licence of all editors, what I 
 cannot understand I suppose unintelligible, and therefore propose that 
 they may he altered thus : 
 
 Since he came, 
 
 Wi'h what encounter so vncurrent have I 
 Been stain'd to appear thus. 
 At least I think it might be read : 
 
 With nhat encounter so uncurrent have I 
 Strain'd to appear thus ? If one jot beyond. Jdiin. 
 ■ With what encounter so uncurrent. ' ' Encounter so uncurrent' 
 is an expression I do not-understand. I therefore read the passage 
 thus : 
 
 Since lie came, 
 With what encounter, so uneredent, have I 
 Been gtain'd, to appear thus? 
 The meaning of which will be : " Since Polixenes came to your 
 court, what criminal action have you to accuse me of? [though by 
 the way it is uneredent ; a matter little likely to gaio belief — ] what 
 encounter, what particular meeting;, I say, can you prove or charge 
 us with : that I should be brought to this tribunal, &c." B. 
 
 Leo. As you were past all shame, 
 
 (Those of your fact are so) so past all truth : 
 Which to deny, concerns more than avails. 
 
 As you were past all- shame, 
 
 (Those of your fact are so) so past all truth. 
 I do not remember that fact is used any where absolutely for guilt, which 
 must be its sense in this place. Perhaps we may read : 
 
 Those, of your pack are so. 
 Pack is a low coarse word well suited to the rest of this royal invective. 
 
 John. 
 ' Those of your fact are so.' • Fact' is used for faction or party. 
 The like abbreviations are common with Shakspeare. B. 
 
 Her. The child-bed privilege deny'd, which 'longs 
 To women of all fashion ; — Lastly, hurried 
 Here to this place, i'the open air, before 
 I have got strength of limit. 
 
 1 have got strength of limit. 
 I know not well how strength of limit can mean strength to pass the limits 
 of the child-bed chamber, which yet it must mean in this place, unless 
 we read in a more easy phrase, strength of limh. And now, &c. Johjj. 
 
 1 have got strength of limit, 
 
 From the following passage in the black letter history of Titano and Tke* 
 
SCENE IV r . WINTER'S TAIL . 359 
 
 SBHf (of which I have no earlier edition than that in 1636) it appears thai 
 limit was anciently used fur limb. 
 
 " thought ir very strange that nature should endow so fair a face 
 
 so hard a heart, such comely limits with such perverse conditions." 
 
 St i i v. 
 
 ' I have pot strength of limit.' The sense of this passage has 
 been mistaken. It is not of limits or boundaries that the Queen is 
 made to speak. ' Limit' is confinement', not however sue!; confine- 
 ment as might proceed from constraint or force, hut simply that of 
 being shut up. Hermione complains " of being brought into the 
 Open air before she had recovered that Strength which had hcen lost 
 from [by reason of] her late confinement," a comma must be placed 
 at ' strength.' 
 
 It is wholly impossible that limit should at any time be used for 
 limb", and one would have thought it equally impossible that even 
 Mr. Steevens should have had so absurd an idea. Beside, in ihe 
 history of Titana and Theseus, it is face thai is spokea of, and we 
 do not call the several parts of it limbs but features. The matter, 
 evidently, is only this — lineaments, according to the ancient mode of 
 writing, v>as contracted into line'mets [the latter?/ having been inad- 
 vertently omitted by the author or his transcriber.] Thus the word 
 would have nearly the appearance and sound of limits. B. 
 
 Her. The emperor of Russia was my father : 
 Oh, that he were alive, and here beholding 
 His daughter's trial ! that he did but see 
 The flatness of my misery. 
 
 The flatness of mi/ misery ; 
 That is, how low, how flat I am laid by my calamity. John. 
 So, Milton, Par. Lost, b. ii : 
 
 " Thus rcpuls'd, our final hope 
 
 " Isjiat despair." .Mai.. 
 * The flatness of my misery.' Johnson is wrong in his explication, 
 • Flatness of misery,' absoluteness, completeness of misery. ' FJat 
 despair,' in Milton, is downright, absolute despair. B. 
 
 Leo. And to the certain hazard 
 
 Of all uncertainties himself commended, 
 No richer than his honor. 
 
 and to the certain hazard 
 Of all incertainties himself commenced. 
 The old copy reads — add to the hazard. The defect in the metre shews 
 clearly that some word of two syllables was omitted by the transcriber 
 or compositor. Certain was added by the editor of the second folio; and 
 is less likely to have been the epithet applied to " hazard," than almost 
 any that can be named. Fearful appears to me to have a much better 
 claim to a place in the text. 
 
 Commended is here, as in a former scene, used for committed. Mal. 
 'Certain hazard.' Certain hazard, [i. e. hazard he was sure to 
 run] may very well stand. Mr. Malone has mistaken the sense. 
 I mi mended is, gave himself up to. B. 
 
5o*0 -winter's tale. act iv. 
 
 C/o. You're a made old man; if the sins of your 
 youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. 
 
 You're a made oldn.iin; ] In former copies: — You're a mad old 
 
 man ; if the sins ofycttr, youth ore forgiven you, you're zcell t > Use. Gold t 
 til gold ! — This the Clown suy§ upon his opening his fardel, and discover- 
 ing the wealth in it. But this is no reason why he should call his father 
 
 a mud i-ld wan. I have ventured to correct in the test You're a made 
 
 old man : i. e. your lortune's made by this adventitious treasure. So our 
 poet, in a number of other passages. Tur on. 
 
 Dr. Warburion did not accept this emendation, but it is certainly right. 
 The word is borrowed from the novel : " The good man desired his wife 
 to be quiet i if she would hold peace, they were made for ever." See vol. 
 I. p. 04. Farmer. 
 
 ' You're a made old man.' Mad*, hi old language, [the final e cut 
 oft] is frequently set down for made ; the apocope of the grammarian, 
 a very common figure with our earlier writers, has led to many mis- 
 takes. Tims in Hamlet it would seem that up has been printed for 
 ap' [ape] ' Wo'ot drink up Eisel, &c."as 1 have there endeavoured to 
 shew. The same may be observed of the aphaeresis : — for instance 
 in Anthony and Cleopatra we meet with : 
 
 '* I'M raise the preparation of a war, 
 " Shall stain your brother." 
 which word stain the editors suppose to mean cast an odium on ; by 
 which it is evident that they attend io the word alone, and not to the 
 context. Stain is clearly sustain, i. e. support, assist, — the very 
 reverse of the sense they affix to it. See my notes, Hamlet and 
 Anthonv. B. 
 
 Cam. It is three days, since I saw the prince : What 
 his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown : but I 
 have missingly noted, he is of late much retired from 
 court. 
 
 1 but I have, missingly, noted — 
 
 Missingly noted means, I have observed him at intervals, not constantly 
 or regularly, but occasionally. Steev. 
 
 ' But I have missingly noted.' ' Missingly noted' I do not under- 
 stand, I therefore change it to wisscnty r noted, i. e. attentively, par- 
 ticularly noted, Wissen [Teut.] to know, B. 
 
 Pol. But, I fear the angle that plucks our son thither. 
 Thou shalt accompany us to the place. 
 
 But, I j'eur the angle Mr. Theobald reads, and I fear the 
 
 tngle. John, 
 
 Augle in this place means a fishing-rod, which he represents as drawing 
 his son, like a fish, away. Stj ev. 
 
 ' I fear the angle.' "Angle means a fishing rod." Nonsense! 
 but to use a vulgar expression, all isjish that comes to Mr. Stcevens's 
 net ; he stays not to examine if that which lies before him be any 
 thing worth, ' Angle,' however, is a term in judicial astrology, and 
 used in relation to certain houses of a figure and scheme of the heavens 
 
scene iir. winter's tale. SGI 
 
 and which is sometimes called the Horoscope. Polixenes nukes use 
 of the expression in allusion to the degree of the ascendant, or the 
 star ascending above the horizon, at the moment an astrological figure 
 or scheme is made. The aptness of this allusion in respect of Perdilu 
 as being the ruling star, the ascendant over Florizel, is easily 
 seen. Ii. 
 
 Aut. TFhen daffodils begin to peer,- 
 
 II ith, heigh ! the doxy over the dale, — 
 Why, then comes in the sweet o the year ; 
 For the red blood reigns in the winters pale. 
 
 ]■'<>?• the red blood reigtiS in the winter's pale. 
 This line has suffered a great variety of alterations, but I am persuaded 
 the old reading is the true one. The first folio has " the winter's /Wc," 
 and the meaning is, the red, the spring blood now reigns o'er the parte 
 lately under the dominion of winter. The English pale, The Irish pale. 
 were frequent expressions in Shakspeare's time : and the words rtd add 
 pale were chosen for the sake of the antithesis. Farmer. 
 
 Dr. farmer is certainly right. I had offered this explanation to Dr. 
 Johnson, who rejected it. In King Henry V. our author says: 
 
 " the English hreach 
 
 " Pales in the Hood, ccc." Steev. 
 ' For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.' Dr. Farmer is 
 somewhat wrong, and poor Mr. Sfeevens most egregiously so: for 
 how can pales in be brought to elucidate the present expression? 
 * the winter's pale.' The matter is, that pale is used inslead of pale- 
 7iess. The sense of the line is this: the red blood reigns over the 
 paleness of winter, or in other words, that the glow of spring, [by 
 reason of the greater distance of the sun,] succeeds to \hepale, faint 
 hue of winter, when the great luminary is near the earth. B. 
 
 Aut. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, — 
 
 With hey ! the sweet birds, O, hoxv they sing, 
 Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ; 
 For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. 
 
 pugging tooth 
 
 Sir T. Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton read — pronging tooth. It is 
 certain that pugging is not now understood. But Dr. Thirlby observes, 
 that it is the cant of gipsies. John. 
 
 ' Pugging tooth.' From the whole of this song, in which the spring 
 is particularly alluded to, and which, according to our poets, is the 
 season of love, I should suppose that pugging, as it stands in the text, 
 will be the proper word. It seems to be the same as what we now call 
 a sweet tooth, a colt's tooth. Puggy is a word of endearment now 
 made use of in speaking of a girl, a little maid. Pugging appears to 
 be more apposite here than pi-ogging, which merely signifies to be in 
 search of provision. B. 
 
 Cto, Let me see : — Every 'leven weather tod^ ; every 
 
361 WIXTFIv'.S TALE. ACT IV. 
 
 tod yields pound and odd shilling : fifteen hundred 
 shorn, — What comes the wool to ? 
 
 Every 'leven weather tods ; ever?/ tod yields pound mid odd shil- 
 ling :] This passage appears to me unintelligible Iron'' a variety of mis- 
 takes. In the first place, no reason, I believe, can lie assigned for the 
 clown's choosing so singular a number as eleven to form hi> calculation 
 upon, in estimating the value of fifteen hundred fleeces. Il is much more 
 probable that, like Justice Shallow, he should have counted his wethers 
 bv the score. In the first folio, trie only authentic ancient copy of this 
 play, there is no appearance of elision, the word being printed thus, with 
 a capita! letter; — Every Leaven wether, &c. I suppose that Shakspeare 
 wrote — " Every living wether, ccc." the only profit that arises from sheep 
 while they are living, being their fleeces. 
 
 The other error seems to have arisen from our author's not having 
 made the proper calculation. In his " sal lad days" (his father being a 
 dealer in wool) he was perhaps not unacquainted with this subject; but 
 having at a subsequent period discharged such matters from his mind, he 
 probably left blanks in his MS. intending to.fi il them up, when he should 
 have gained the necessary information ; and afterwards foreot them. The 
 whole passage therefore should, I think, be printed thus : " Every — living 
 
 wether tods; every tod yields — ■ — pound and odd shilling: fifteen 
 
 hundred shorn, ike." Mai.. 
 
 ' Every leven wether tods.' By ' leven wether' Shakspcare un- 
 doubtedly means, as Mr. Malone has suggested, living wether. In 
 Chaucer livane is living. It is therefore sufficiently evident that 
 livane is the proper word, and that the only error is in the spelling of it. 
 We must retain the old word, and read the remainder of the speech 
 with Mr. Malone. B. 
 
 Clo. There's no virtue whipp'd out of the court ; they 
 cherish it, to make it stay there ; and yet it will no more 
 but abide. 
 
 — abide. To abide, here, piust signify, to sojourn, to live for a time 
 without a settled habitation. John. 
 
 ' No more but abide.' ' Abide' is here employed in a double 
 sense. To sojourn, and to forbear. It is so used by Chaucer. The 
 clown's meaning is, that though virtue may be cherished at court, it 
 will only practise forbearance: it will refrain from exercising its 
 powers. B. 
 
 Per. But that our feasts 
 
 In every mess have foily, and the feeders 
 Digest it with a custom., I should blush 
 To see you so attired : sworn, I think. 
 To shew myself a glass. 
 
 sunrn, I think, 
 
 To shew myself a gloss.] 
 i. e. one would think that in putting on this habit of a shepherd, you 
 had sworn to put me out of countenance ; for in this, as in a glass, you 
 show me how much below yourself you must descend before you can 
 
SCENE V. WINTERS TALE. 363 
 
 get upon a level with me. The sentiment is fine, and expre«ses all the 
 delicacy, as well as humble modesty, ot' the character. But the Oxford 
 editor alters it to : 
 
 ■ swoon, I think, 
 
 " To show myself a glass." 
 What he means I don't know. But Pcrdita was not so much given to 
 swooning, as appears by her behaviour at the king's threats, when the 
 'intrigue was discovered. Warb. 
 
 Dr. Thiribv inclines rather to Sir T. Ilaumer's emendation, which 
 certainly makes an easy sense, and is, in my opinion, preferable to the 
 present reading. But concerning this passage I know not what to de- 
 cide. John. 
 
 The meaning of " to show myself a glass," is not very clear. I 
 would make a change of two or three words with a slight transposi- 
 tion in the speech of Perdita, and give the hemistich which con- 
 cludes it to Florae!. I read : 
 
 " To chide at your extremes it not becomes me : 
 
 " Oh, pardon that I name them. But that our leasts, 
 
 " In every mess have folly, and the feeders 
 
 *' Digest it with a custom, I should blush, 
 
 " Nay, swoon, I think, to see you so attired. 
 
 " Your high self, 
 
 " The gracious mark o' the land you have obscur'd 
 
 " With a swain's wearing; and the poor lowly maid, 
 
 " Most goddess-like, prank'd up." 
 
 " Flor. A glass to shew thyself. 
 
 " I bless the time when my good falcon made 
 
 " Her flight thy father's ground." 
 By this reading, Florizel is made to pay an elegant compliment to 
 the Princess, while he believes her no other than the shepherd's 
 daughter. Perdita observes that she is prank'd up like a goddess : 
 to this the prince replies : " A glass to show thyself," i. e. you 
 then appear as you ought to do. Now you see yourself. B. 
 
 Her. Violets, dim, 
 
 But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
 Or Cytherea's breath. 
 
 . violets dim 
 
 Bui szceeter than the lids of Juno's eyes ] 
 I suspect that our author mistakes Juno tor Pallas, who was the goddess 
 of blue eyes. Sweeter than an eye-lid is an odd image : but perhaps he 
 uses sweet in the general sense, for delightful. John. 
 
 It was formerly the fashion to ki^s the eyes, as a mark of extraordi- 
 nary tenderness. I have somewhere met with an account of the first 
 reception one of our kings gave to his new queen, where he is said to 
 have kissed her fayre eyes. So, in Albumazar, Trincalo says : 
 
 " () Armellina, 
 
 " Come let me kiss thy brows like my own daughter." 
 Again, in Chaucer's Troilus and Cresscide, v. 1358 : 
 
 " 'this Troilus full oft her eyin two 
 
 " Gan for to kisse," &c. 
 
364- winter's tale. - act iv. 
 
 Again, in ananrient MS. play of Timo?i of' Athens, in the possession of Mr. 
 Strut the engraver. 
 
 " O Juno, be not angry with thy Jove, 
 
 " But let me kiss thine ei/es my sweete delight." p. 6. b. Stkev. 
 " Violets dim, 
 " Rut sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
 " Or Cytherea's breath." 
 All these quotations are impertineut, because it is not of eyes that 
 Perdita is speaking, but of eyelids. Lids, however, (and which are 
 properly the membranes that cover the organs in question) are 
 here set down for lashes: which lashes,, it ha> been the fashion 
 from the remotest time even to the present day, to stain or |>aint as 
 an heightener of beauty. Now this coloring of the filaments of the 
 eye, we have reason to believe from many passages in the poets, 
 was perfumed. As were likewise the ointments for the hair of the 
 head ; which practice, fndeed, has descended to us in the scented 
 pomatums and powders of the shops. The epithet " sweet " has 
 therefore nothing odd in it, whatever Dr. Johnson mav have 
 thought. That perfumes were common with the ancients both for 
 the hair and eye-fashes, we may gather from Hesiod. 
 
 T'/js Kal ct7ro KpTjdev pXedafHov r d-rro xvavetLiov 
 
 Tolov dm o'iqv re Tcckvyjivuov 'Afjpo&tTTjs. 
 Which is thus translated by Mr. Elton : 
 
 " And from the darkening lashes of her eyes, 
 
 She breath'd enamouring fragrance." 
 Here (Sktyapov is very properly rendered eye lashes. In tbi3 version, 
 however, Mr. E. has passed over the word tcpijdev as is observed by 
 Mr. Pye ; and who has given the lines as follows : 
 
 Her flowing hair, and sable eyelids breath'd 
 
 The heavenly fragrance of the Queen of Love. 
 Hair is judiciously introduced by him, but in regard to lids he is 
 evidently wrong. The epithet " sable," however, is happy and 
 had it been applied to lashes would have been particularly so, as 
 the hue given to them was generally black. His notice of \\<ppobi~ 
 tt}s [the character instanced] is highly just and proper. Mr. 
 Elton's darkening [i. e. occasioning darkness] is a mistake. 
 
 With respect to this coincidence in the poets of Britain and 
 Greece, torching the " fragrance of eye lashes,'' it is certainly 
 striking. Now, are we to conclude from it that Shakspeare was 
 acquainted with the writings of the Ascriean, or that the expres- 
 sion here found is the result of general observation 1 The lat- 
 ter is probably the case. B. 
 
 Ser. And fadings : jump her and thump her. 
 
 Fadings.] An Irish dance of this name is mentioned by Ben Jonson ; 
 in The Irish Masque at Court : 
 
 " and daunsh a fading at te wedding." 
 
 Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of' the Burning Fettle, 
 " I will have him dance fading ; fading is a fine jigg." Tvkw, 
 
scene vi. winter's tai.f. 365 
 
 " Fadings." " Fading " is used for vading. Vadire Lat. to 
 vanish, to pass away quickly. Spenser employs it in that sense. 
 The dance called a fading, is a light airy measure. B. 
 
 Ser. Inkles, caddisses, cambricks, lawns : why, he 
 sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses. 
 
 CuddistuJ] I dn not exactly know what caddisses are. In Shirley's 
 Witty Fair One, 1633, one of the characters says : "] will have eight 
 velvet pages, aud six footmen in ca fdis." 
 
 In the First Port of K. lien. IV. I have supposed caddis to he firrtt. 
 Perhaps by six footmen in caddie is meant sin footmen with their Jneries 
 laced with such a kind of worsted stuff. As this worsted lace was par- 
 ticoloured,' it might have received its title from cadesse, the ancient 
 name for a dim. Steev. 
 
 " Cadisses." Perhaps we should read, cadizes, stuffs made at 
 Cadiz. B. 
 
 IK 
 
 Aut. Golden quoifs, and stomachers, 
 For my lads to give their dears ; 
 Pins, and poking sticks of steel. 
 
 Faking stick!; of steel.] These poking-stuks were heated in the tire, 
 and made use of to adjust the plaits of ruffs. In Marston's Malecon- 
 tent, 100-1, is the following instance : " There is such a deale of pinning 
 these ruffes, when the tine clean fall is worth them all •. " and, again, 
 •' if you should chance to take a nap in an afternoon, your falling band 
 requires no poking-stick to recover ins form," ace. So, in Middleton's 
 comedy of lUuit Master Constable, 100$: "Your ruff must stand in 
 print, and for that purpose eetjwking-sticks with fair long handles, lest 
 they scorch your hands.?' Stei v. 
 
 " Poking sticks of steel." This appears to he properly explained ; 
 and it must be acknowledged that when Mr. S. is poking in black 
 letter books, and when nothing like conjecture is necessary, he ac- 
 quits himself with credit, and indeed evinces that he has a genius 
 for such pursuits. Yet, after all, the antiquary only will give him 
 thanks : for it is certain that these inquiries are but a waste of 
 time. They remind us of Gratiano's " reasons," which are said 
 to be "as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you 
 shall seek all day ere von find them, and when you have them they 
 are not worth the search." In a word, these inept ice, these noth- 
 ings, are scarcely to he tolerated here. But an Editor who could 
 sully the pages of this immortal bard, by disquisitions concerning 
 the virtues of stewed prunes and potatoes, may well be supposed 
 capable of impertinences of every kind. B. 
 
 Clo. Tis well they are whispering : Clamor your 
 tongues, and not a word more. 
 
 Clamor your t ungues. 1 The phrase i<= taken, from ringing. When 
 hells "are at the height, in order to cease them, the repetition of tfee 
 
366 winter's tale. act v. 
 
 strokes becomes much quicker than before ; this is called clamouring 
 them. The allusion is humorous. Warb. 
 
 " Clamour your tongues." Warburton is right in regard to the 
 allusion, but he has not sufficiently explained the meaning of the. 
 expression in Shakspeare : " What is all this whispering, and tittle- 
 tattling? [says the Clown] Come, clamour your tongues," [i. e. 
 ring out your peal at once] "and [then] not a word more'' — be 
 silent. B. 
 
 Mop. Come, you promis'd me a tawdry lace, and a 
 pair of sweet gloves. 
 
 You promis'd me a tawdry lace, &-c] It may be worth while to observe, 
 that these tawdry laces were not the strings with which tiie ladies fasten 
 their stays, but were worn about their heads, and their waists. 
 
 Again, in the fourth song i 
 
 " not the smallest beck, 
 
 " But with white pebbles makes her tawdries for her neck." Steev. 
 
 " Tawdry lace," for audery lace: a particular kind of lace, so 
 called from its being sold at a fair held in the chapel of Audery or 
 Elheldred. See Henshawe. So in the passages quoted: "Tawdries 
 for their necks " means audcries for their necks. B. 
 
 Mop. I love a ballad in print, a'-life ; for then we 
 are sure they are true. 
 
 I love a ballad in print, a' life. J Theobald reads, as it ha? been hither- 
 to printed, — or a lite. The text, however, is right; only it should be 
 
 printed thus : a'-life. So, it is in 13. Jonson: 
 
 " t/iou lovst a'~ life 
 
 " Their perfum'd judgment." 
 It is the abbreviation, I suppose, of — at life ; as a'-work k, of at icdrk. 
 Tvew. 
 
 " I love a ballad in print a' life.'' " A' life "■ is not an abbrevia- 
 tion of at life, as Mr. Tyrwhitt supposes, but to the life. The 
 French a, to. We now say, It pleases him to the life. B. 
 
 Cam. Though the pennyworth, on his side, be the 
 worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot. 
 
 BootJ] That is, something over and above, or, as we now say, something 
 to boot. John. 
 
 " Boot." " Boot " is not the same as to " boot," which cer- 
 tainly signifies " overplus." " Boot," with the early wiiters, is 
 compensation, reward, the sense required here. B. 
 
 3 Gent. The princess hearing of her mother's statue, 
 which is in the keeping of Paulina, — a piece many- 
 years in doing, and now newly perform 'd by that rare 
 Italian master, Julio Romano ; who, had he himself 
 eternity. 
 
SCENE VII. WINTER'S TALK. 3(57 
 
 That rare Italian master, Julio Romano.'] Mr. Theobald says: "All 
 the encomiums put together, that have been conferred on this excellent 
 artist in painting and architecture, do not amount to the fine praise here 
 gjven him by our author." Hut he is ever the unhickicst of all critics 
 when he passes judgment on beauties and defects. The passage hap- 
 pens to he quite unworthy Shakspeare. 1st. He makes his speaker say, 
 that was Julio Romano the God of Nature, he would outdo Nature. 
 Tor this is the plain meaning of the words, M had he himself eternity, 
 and could put breath into his work, ho would beguile nature of her 
 custom." 2dly. lie makes of this famous painter, a statuary; I sup- 
 pose confounding him with Michael Angelo; but, what is worst of all, 
 a painter of statues, like Mrs. Salmon of her wax-work. WXRB. 
 
 Poor Theobald's encomium On this passage is not very happily con- 
 ceived or expressed, nor is the passage of any eminent excellence; yet 
 a little candor will clear Shakspeare from part of the impropriety im- 
 puted to him. By eternity he means only immortality, or that part of 
 eternity which is to come ; so we talk of eternal renown and eternal 
 infamy. Immortality may subsist without divinity, and therefore the 
 meaning only is, that if Julio could always continue his labors he would 
 mimic k nature. John. 
 
 I wish we could understand this passage, as if Julio Romano had only 
 painted the statue carved by another. Ben Jonson makes Doctor Rut 
 in the Magnetic Lady, Act V. sc. viii. say: 
 
 " all city statues must be painted, 
 
 " Else they lie worth nought i their subtil judgments." 
 Sir Henry VVotton, in his Elements of Architecture, mentions the fashion 
 of coloring even regal statues for the stronger expression of affection, 
 which he takes leave to call an English barbarism. Such, however, 
 was the practice of the time : and unless the supposed statue ot Her- 
 niione were painted, there could be no ruddiness upon her lip, nor could 
 the veins verily seem to liar Hood, as the poet expresses it afterwards. 
 Tor.. 
 
 " That rare Italian master, Julio Romano." I think we may 
 very well understand this passage as Mr. Toilet wishes it to be 
 understood, if we attend to the beginning of the gentleman's 
 speech, in which he says: "her mother's statue, a piece many 
 years in doing, and now newly performed by Julio Romano." The 
 "newly performed" does away the objection, which has been 
 started by Warburton. Beside, in one place we have : "Seethe 
 Queen's picture," ami in another " the colors not yet dry." B. 
 
 Paul. As she Iiv'd peerless, 
 
 So her dead likeness, I do well believe, 
 
 Excels whatever yet you look'd upon, 
 
 Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it 
 
 Lonely, apart. 
 
 therefore I keep it 
 
 Lovel>, apart. J 
 
 ', i. s. charily, with more than ordinary regard and tenderness. 
 The Oxford editor reads: 
 Lonely, apart: 
 
368 winter's tale. act v. 
 
 As if it could be apart without being clone. "Wars. 
 
 I am yet inclined to lonely, which in the old angular writing cannot 
 be distinguished from lovely. To say, that 1 " keep it alone, separate 
 from the rest," is a pleonasm which scarcely any nicety declines. 
 John. 
 
 " Lonely, apart." I do not believe that it is the English adverb 
 epart which is here used, but the latin aperte: and in the sense of 
 on purpose, u'ith design. This statue, says Paulina, excels what- 
 ever yet you looked on, or hand of man hath done : therefore { 
 designedly keep it [lonely] aperte. B. 
 
 Paul. If I had thought, the sight of my poor image 
 Would thus have wrought you, (for the stone is mine) 
 I'd not have show'd it. 
 
 Indeed, my lord, 
 
 If I hach thought, the sight of my poor image 
 
 Would thus have zcr ought you (for the stone is mine) 
 
 I'd not hate shozc'd it.~\ 
 I do not know whether we should not read, without a parenthesis : 
 
 for the stone i'th' mine 
 
 I'd not have shozv'd it. 
 A mine of stone, or marble, would not perhaps at present be esteemed an 
 accurate expression, but it may still have been used by Shakspeare, as it 
 has been used by Ilolinslied. Descript, of Engl. c. ix. p. 235 : " Now 
 if you have regard to their ornature, how many mines of snndrie kinds 
 of coarse and fine marble are there to be had in England ? " And a little 
 lower he uses the same word again for a quarry of stone, or planter : 
 ** And such is the mine of it. that the stones thereof lie in flakes," &c. 
 Tyrwh. 
 
 To change an accurate expression for an expression confessedly not 
 accurate, has somewhat of retrogradation. John. 
 
 " Stone i' th' mine," is surely the more forcible and elegant 
 reading; but Mr. Tyrwhit explains his reading wrong. "Stone 
 i' th' mine," is diamond, not marble. B. 
 
 Leo. The fixure of her eye has motion in't. 
 
 The fixure of her eye has motion inY.] 
 
 The meaning is, that her eye, though fixed, as in an earnest gaze, has 
 motion in it. Edw. 
 
 " The fixure of her eye," &c. Mr. Edwards is wrong. The 
 meaning is, that her eye though fixed, seems as if there were mo- 
 tion in it. B. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
Date Due 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 L. B. Cat. No. 1 137 
 
822.33 A.R.7 B396 v.l 20404 
 

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