WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (aF 1- 1- t h D). 
 
(i&nsltsb Classtts {or §it{iaal BeaHtns< 
 
 TALES FROM 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 By CHARLES and MARY LAMB. 
 
 Edited, with Notes, 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM J. ROLFE, Litt. D. 
 
 illustrated. 
 
 - NEW YORK: 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
 ;l89l. 
 

 Copyright, 1890, by Harper & Brothers, 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In the preface to the first edition the authors say that these Tales 
 ' ' are meant to be submitted to the young reader as an introduc- 
 tion to the study of Shakespeare, for which purpose his words are 
 used whenever it seemed possible to bring them in ; and in what- 
 ever has been added to give them the regular form of a connected 
 story, diligent care has been taken to select such words as might 
 least interrupt the effect of the beautiful English tongue in which 
 he wrote ; therefore, words introduced into our language since his 
 time have been as far as possible avoided." 
 
 The authors say also •. "It has been wished to make these Tales 
 easy reading for very young children. To the utmost of their 
 ability the writers have constantly kept this in mind ; but the sub- 
 jects of most of them made this a very difficult task. It was no 
 easy matter to give the histories of men and women in terms famil- 
 iar to the apprehension of a very young mind. For young ladies, 
 too, it has been the intention chiefly to write ; because boys being 
 generally permitted the use of their fathers' libraries at a much 
 earlier age than girls are, they frequently have the best scenes of 
 Shakespeare by heart, before their sisters are permitted to look into 
 this manly book ; and, therefore, instead of recommending these 
 Tales to the perusal of young gentlemen who can read them so 
 much better in the originals, their kind assistance is rather request- 
 ed in explaining to their sisters such parts as are hardest for them 
 to understand ; and when they have helped them to get over the 
 difficulties, then perhaps they will read to them (carefully selecting 
 what is proper for a young sister's ear) some passage which has 
 pleased them in one of these stories, in the very words of the scene 
 from which it is taken ; and it is hoped they will find that the beau- 
 
vi PREFA CE. 
 
 tiful extracts, the select passages, they may choose to give their 
 sisters in this way will be much better relished and understood 
 from their having some notion of the general story." 
 
 Nowadays "young ladies " are allowed to read and study Shake- 
 speare as early as their brothers, and may sometimes be able to help 
 the latter in understanding and appreciating the text more than 
 these "young gentlemen" can help them. I quote the passage, 
 however, because it has suggested to me the plan of the present 
 edition of these admirable stories. I have aimed to help both girls 
 and boys by " explaining such parts as are hardest for them to un- 
 derstand ;" and have added a selection of such portions of the origi- 
 nals as are likely to be intelligible and enjoyable to young readers, 
 and at the same time perfectly proper for even ' ' a young sister's 
 ear." 
 
 I believe that the book, thus annotated and illustrated, will be 
 useful not only as " supplementary reading for young children " (the 
 teacher or the parent will of course see what portions of the notes 
 are suited to their age and capacity), but also as an introduction to 
 the study of Shakespeare for those who are old enough to begin 
 that study in earnest. For this, as we have seen, the Tales were 
 intended, but the authors builded better than they knew. The 
 child's story-book has become "an English classic" for children of 
 larger growth. Even as a contribution to Shakespearian criticism 
 it has no mean value, as more than one good critic has pointed out. 
 Mr. Ainger, in his introduction to the edition of 1878, referring to 
 Mary Lamb's work on the Comedies, remarks : " She constantly 
 evinces a rare shrewdness and tact in her incidental criticisms, 
 which show her to have been, in her way, as keen an observer of 
 human nature as her brother. Mary Lamb had not lived so much 
 among the wits and humorists of her day without learning some 
 truths which helped her to interpret the two chief characters of 
 Much Ado About Nothing : ' As there is no one who so little likes 
 to be made a jest of as those who are apt to take the same liberty 
 themselves, so it was with Benedick and Beatrice ; these two sharp 
 wits never met in former times but a perfect war of raillery was 
 kept up between them, and they always parted mutually displeased 
 with each other.' And again : ' The hint she gave him that he 
 was a coward, by saying she would eat all he had killed, he did not 
 regard, knowing himself to be a brave man ; but there is nothing 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 that great wits so much dread as the imputation of buffoonery, be- 
 cause the charge comes sometimes a little too near the truth ; there- 
 fore Benedick perfectly hated Beatrice when she called him "the 
 prince's jester." ' How illuminating, in the best sense of the term, 
 is such a commentary as this ! The knowledge of human character 
 that it displays is indeed in advance of a child's own power of anal- 
 ysis or experience of the world, but it is at once intelligible when 
 thus presented, and in a most true sense educative. Very pro- 
 found, too, is the casual remark upon the conduct of Claudio and 
 his friends when the character of Hero is suddenly blasted — con- 
 duct which has often perplexed older readers for its heartlessness 
 and insane credulity : ' The prince and Claudio left the church, 
 without staying to see if Hero would recover, or at all regarding 
 the distress into which they had thrown Leonato. So hard-hearted 
 had their angermade them.^ It is this casual and diffused method 
 of enforcing the many moral lessons that lie in Shakespeare's plays 
 that constitutes one special value of this little book in the training 
 of the young. Writing avowedly, as Charles and Mary Lamb were 
 writing, for readers still in the schoolroom, ordinary compilers 
 would have been tempted to make these little stories sermons in 
 disguise, or to have appended to them in set form the lessons they 
 were calculated to teach. Happily, both as moralist and artist, 
 Charles Lamb knew better how hearts and spirits are touched to 
 'fine issues.' " 
 
 This preface is already longer than I intended to make it, but I 
 cannot refrain from adding to it the closing paragraph of the orig- 
 inal preface : 
 
 " What these tales shall have been to the young readers, that 
 and much more it is the writers' wish that the true Plays of Shake- 
 speare may prove to them in older years — enrichers of the fancy, 
 strengtheners of virtue, a withdrawing from all selfish and mer- 
 cenary thoughts, a lesson of all sweet and honorable thoughts and 
 actions, to teach courtesy, benignity, generosity, humanity ; for of 
 examples teaching these virtues his pages are full." 
 
 W. J. R. 
 
 Cambridge, July i6, 1890. 
 
STRATFORD CHURCH. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Tempest , . . . . i 
 
 A Midsummer-Night's Dream i6 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing , 33 
 
 As You Like It 51 
 
 The Two Gentlemen of Verona . . 74 
 
 The Merchant of Venice 92 
 
 / The Comedy of Errors. no 
 
 Twelfth Night 130 
 
 The Taming of the Shrew 149 
 
 The Winter's Tale , 164 
 
 NOTES i8i 
 
ARIEL AS A SEA-NYMPH. 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S 
 COMEDIES. 
 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhab- 
 itants of which were an old man, whose name was Pros- 
 pero,' and his daughter Miranda,^ a very beautiful young 
 lady. She came to this island so young that she had 
 no memory of having seen any other human face than 5 
 her father's. 
 
 They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock. It 
 ^ Pros'-pe-ro. ^ Mt-ran'-da. 
 
 I 
 
2 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 was divided into several small apartments, one of which 
 Prospero called his study : there he kept his books, 
 which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that time much lo 
 affected^ by all learned men; and the knowledge of this 
 art he found very useful to him, for, being thrown by a 
 strange chance upon this island, which had been en- 
 chanted by a witch called Sycorax,^ who died there a 
 short time before his arrival, Prospero by virtue of his 15 
 art released many good spirits that Sycorax had im- 
 prisoned in the bodies of large trees, because they had 
 refused to execute her wicked commands. These gen- 
 tle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of Pros- 
 pero. Of these ArieP was the chief. 20 
 
 The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous 
 in his nature, except that he took rather too much pleas- 
 ure in tormenting an ugly monster called Caliban,* for 
 he owed him a grudge because he was the son of his old 
 enemy Sycorax. I'his Caliban Prospero found in the 25 
 woods, a strange misshapen thing, far less human in form 
 than an ape. He took him home to his cell, and taught 
 him to speak; and Prospero would have been very kind 
 to him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from 
 his mother Sycorax would not let him learn anything 30 
 good or useful. Therefore he was employed like a slave, 
 to fetch wood and do the most laborious offices ; and 
 Ariel had the charge of compelling him to these services. 
 
 When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel, 
 who was invisible to all eyes but Prospero's, would 35 
 come slyly and pinch him, and sometimes tumble him 
 down in the mire ; and then Ariel, in the likeness of an 
 ape, would make mouths at him. Then, swiftly chang- 
 
 ' Liked, enjoyed. ^ Syc'-o-rax {y as i in siclz). 
 
 ^ A'-rl-el. ^ Cal' i-ban. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 3 
 
 ing his shape, in the likeness of a hedgehog he would 
 lie tumbling in Caliban's way, who feared the hedgehog's 40 
 sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With a variety 
 of such-like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment 
 him, whenever Caliban neglected the work which Pros- 
 pero commanded him to do. 
 
 Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, 45 
 Prospero could by their means command the winds and 
 the waves of the sea. By his orders they raised a vio- 
 lent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling with 
 the wild sea -waves that every moment threatened to 
 swallow it up, he showed his daughter a fine large ship, so 
 which he told her was full of living beings like them- 
 selves. " O my dear father," said she, " if by your art 
 you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their 
 sad distress ! See ! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. 
 Poor souls ! they will all perish. If I had power, I ss 
 would sink the sea beneath the earth, rather than the 
 good ship should be destroyed, with all the precious 
 souls within her." 
 
 "Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda," said Pros- 
 pero; "there is no harm done. I have so ordered it 60 
 that no person in the ship shall receive any hurt. What 
 I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. 
 You are ignorant who you are or where you came from, 
 and you know no more of me but that I am your father 
 and live in this poor cave. Can you remember a time 65 
 before you came to this cell? I think you can not, for 
 you were not then three years of age." 
 
 " Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda. 
 
 "By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or 
 person? Tell me what you can remember, my child." 70 
 
 Miranda said, " It seems to me like the recollection 
 
4 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 of a dream. But had I not once four or five women 
 who attended upon me?" 
 
 Prospero answered, "You had, and more. How is it 
 that this still lives in your mind? Do you remember 75 
 how you came here?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Miranda, " I remember nothing 
 more," 
 
 "Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, " I 
 was Duke of Milan, ^ and you were a princess and my 80 
 only heir. I had a younger brother, whose name was 
 Antonio,^ to whom I trusted everything; and as I was 
 fond of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the 
 management of my state affairs to your uncle, my false 
 brother — for so indeed he proved. I, neglecting all 85 
 worldly ends, buried among my books, did dedicate ^ my 
 whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother 
 Antonio, being thus in possession of my power, began 
 to think himself the duke indeed. The opportunity I 
 gave him of making himself popular among my subjects 90 
 awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive 
 me of my dukedom ; this he soon effected with the aid 
 of the King of Naples, a powerful prince, who was my 
 enemy." 
 
 " Wherefore," said Miranda, " did they not that hour 95 
 destroy us?" 
 
 " My child," answered her father, " they durst not, so 
 dear was the love that my people bore me. Antonio 
 carried us on board a ship ; and when we were some 
 leagues out at sea he forced us into a small boat, with- 100 
 out either tackle,* sail, or mast : there he left us, as he 
 thought, to perish. But a kind lord of my court, one 
 
 1 Mir-an. ^ An-t5'-ni-o. 
 
 ^ Give, devote. ■* Rigging. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 5 
 
 Gonzalo/ who loved me, had privately placed in the 
 boat water, provisions, apparel, and some books which 
 I prize above my dukedom." 105 
 
 "O my father!" said Miranda, "what a trouble must 
 I have been to you then !" 
 
 " No, my love," said Prospero, " you were a little 
 cherub that did preserve me. Your innocent smiles 
 made me to bear up against my misfortunes. Our food no 
 lasted till we landed on this desert island, since when 
 my chief delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, 
 and well have you profited by my instructions." 
 
 " Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda. 
 " Now pray tell me, sir, your reason for raising this sea- 115 
 storm." 
 
 " Know, then," said her father, " that by means of this 
 storm my enemies, the King of Naples and my cruel 
 brother, are cast ashore upon this island." 
 
 Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter 120 
 with his magic wand, and she fell fast asleep ; for the 
 spirit Ariel just then presented himself before his mas- 
 ter, to give an account of the tempest, and how he had 
 disposed of the ship's company; and, though the spirits 
 were always invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not 125 
 choose she should hear him holding converse (as would 
 seem to her) with the empty air. 
 
 " Well, my brave ^ spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, " how 
 have you performed your task?" 
 
 Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of 130 
 the terrors of the mariners; and how the king's son, 
 Ferdinand,^ was the first who leaped into the sea; and 
 his father thought he saw this dear son swallowed up 
 
 ^ G6n-za'-lo {a as in ali). ^ Fine, beautiful. See Notes. 
 
 ^ Fer'-dl-nand. 
 
6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 by the waves and lost. " But he is safe," said Ariel, " in 
 a corner of the isle, sitting with his arms folded sadl}', 135 
 lamenting the loss of the king his father, whom he con- 
 cludes^ drowned. Not a hair of his head is injured; 
 and his princely garments, though drenched in the sea- 
 waves, look fresher than before." 
 
 "That's my delicate Ariel," said Prospero. "Bring 140 
 him hither. My daughter must see this young prince. 
 Where is the king, and my brother?" 
 
 " I left them," answered Ariel, " searching for Ferdi- 
 nand, whom they have little hopes of finding, thinking 
 they saw hi^ perish. Of the ship's crew not one is ms 
 missing, though each one thinks himself the only one 
 saved; and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe 
 in the harbor." 
 
 " Ariel," said Prospero, " thy charge is faithfully per- 
 formed; but there is more work yet." 150 
 
 "Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind 
 you, master, you have promised me my liberty. I pray, 
 remember, I have done you worthy service, told you no 
 lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge or 
 grumbling." 155 
 
 "How now!" said Prospero. "You do not recollect 
 what a torment I freed you from. Have you forgot the 
 wicked witch Sycorax, who with age and envy was al- 
 most bent double? Where was she born ? Speak! tell 
 me." 160 
 
 " Sir, in Algiers," said Ariel. 
 
 " O, was she so ?" said Prospero. " I must recount 
 what you have been, which I find you do not remember. 
 This bad witch Sycorax, for her witchcrafts, too terrible 
 to enter human hearing, was banished from Algiers, 165 
 
 ^ Believes. 
 
THE TEMPEST. ^ 
 
 and here left by the sailors; and because you were a 
 spirit too delicate to execute her wicked commands she 
 shut you up in a tree, where I found you howling. This 
 torment, remember, I did free you from." 
 
 " Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to 170 
 seem ungrateful; "I will obey your commands." 
 
 "Do so," said Prospero, "and I will set you free." 
 He then gave orders what further he would have him 
 do, and away went Ariel first to where he had left Fer- 
 dinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in the 175 
 same melancholy^ posture. 
 
 "O my young gentleman," said Ariel, \ hen he saw 
 him, " I will soon move you ! You must be brought, I 
 find, for the lady Miranda to have a sight of your pretty 
 person. Come, sir, follow me." He then began singing, iSo 
 
 " Full fathom five thy father lies , 
 Of his bones are coral made; 
 Those are pearls that were his eyes : 
 
 Nothing of him that doth fade, 
 But doth suffer a sea-change 185 
 
 Into something rich and strange. 
 Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 
 Hark ! now I hear them— Ding-dong, bell." 
 
 This strange news of his lost father soon roused the 
 prince from the stupid fit into which he had fallen. He 190 
 followed in amazement the sound of Ariel's voice till it 
 led him to Prospero and Miranda, who were sitting un- 
 der the shade of a large tree. Now, Miranda had never 
 seen a man before, except her own father. 
 
 " Miranda," said Prospero, " tell me what you are 195 
 looking at yonder." 
 
 " O father!" said Miranda, in a strange surprise, " sure- 
 ^ Sad, sorrowful. 
 
8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 ly that is a spirit. Lord! how it looks about! Beh'eve 
 me, sir, it is a beautiful creature. Is it not a spirit?" 
 
 " No, girl," answered her father, " it eats, and sleeps, 200 
 and has senses such as we have. This young man you 
 see was in the ship. He is somewhat altered by grief, 
 or you might call him a handsome person. He has lost 
 his companions, and is wandering about to find them." 
 
 Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and 205 
 gray beards like her father, was delighted with the ap- 
 pearance of this beautiful young prince ; and Ferdinand, 
 seeing such a lovely young lady in this desert place, 
 and from the strange sounds he had heard expecting 
 nothing but w'onders, thought he was upon an enchanted 210 
 island and that Miranda was the goddess of the place, 
 and as such he began to address her. 
 
 She timidly answered she was no goddess but a sim- 
 ple maid, and was going to give him an account of 
 herself, when Prospero interrupted her. He was well 215 
 pleased to find they admired each other, for he plainly 
 perceived they had, as we say, fallen in love at first sight ; 
 but to try Ferdinand's constancy he resolved to throw 
 some difficulties in their way. Therefore, advancing 
 forward, he addressed the prince with a stern air, telling 220 
 him he came to the island as a spy, to take it from him 
 who was the lord of it. " Follow me," said he : " I will 
 tie you neck and feet together. You shall drink sea- 
 water; shell -fish, withered roots, and husks of acorns 
 shall be your food." " No," said Ferdinand, " I will 225 
 resist such entertainment ' till I see a more powerful 
 enemy," and drew his sword ; but Prospero, waving 
 his magic wand, fixed him to the spot where he stood, 
 so that he had no power to move. 
 
 ' TreatmeiTt. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 
 
 9 
 
 Miranda hung upon her father, saying, " Why are you 230 
 so ungentle? Have pity, sir; I will be his surety. This 
 is the second man I ever saw, and to me he seems a true 
 one." 
 
 " Silence," said her father; " one word more will make 
 me chide you, girl ! What ! an advocate' for an impos- 23s 
 tor!^ You think there are no more such fine men, hav- 
 ing seen only him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish girl, 
 most men as far excel this as he does Caliban." This 
 he said to prove his daughter's constancy ; and she re- 
 plied, " My affections are most humble. I have no wish 240 
 to see a goodlier^ man." 
 
 " Come on, young man," said Prospero to the prince. 
 "You have no power to disobey me." 
 
 "I have not indeed," answered Ferdinand; and, not 
 knowing that it was by magic he was deprived of all 245 
 power of resistance, he was astonished to find himself 
 so strangely compelled to follow Prospero. Looking 
 back on Miranda as long as he could see her, he said, 
 as he went after Prospero into the cave, " My spirits are 
 all bound up, as if I were in a dream ; but this man's 250 
 threats, and the weakness which I feel, would seem light 
 to me, if from my prison I might once a day behold this 
 fair maid." 
 
 Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the 
 cell. He soon brought out his prisoner, and set him a 253 
 severe task to perform, taking care to let his daughter 
 know the hard labor he had imposed on him ; and then, 
 pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them 
 both. 
 
 Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some 260 
 heavy logs of wood. Kings' sons not being much used 
 ^ Defender. - Deceiver. ^ Better, 
 
lo TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES. 
 
 to laborious work, Miranda soon after found her lover 
 almost dying with fatigue. "Alas!" said she, "do not 
 work so hard. My father is at his studies; he is safe 
 for these three hours: pray rest yourself." 265 
 
 "O, my dear lady," said Ferdinand, " I dare not ! I 
 must finish my task before I take my rest." 
 
 " If you will sit down," said Miranda, " I will carry 
 your logs the while." But this Ferdinand would by no 
 means agree to. Instead of a help Miranda became a 270 
 hinderance, for they began a long conversation, so that 
 the business of log-carrying went on very slowly. 
 
 Prospero, who had enjoined^ Ferdinand this task mere- 
 ly as a trial of his love, was not at his books, as his 
 daughter supposed, but was standing by them invisible, 275 
 to overhear wdiat they said. 
 
 Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told him, 
 saying it was against her father's express command she 
 did so. 
 
 Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his 280 
 daughter's disobedience, for, having by his magic art 
 caused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly, he was 
 not angry that she showed her love by forgetting to 
 obey his commands. And he listened, well pleased, to 
 a long speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to 285 
 love her above all the ladies he ever saw. 
 
 In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said 
 exceeded all the women in the world, she replied:"! 
 do not remember the face of any woman, nor have I 
 seen any more men than you, my good friend, and my 290 
 dear father. How features' are abroad, I know not ; but 
 believe me, sir, I would not wnsh any companion in the 
 world but you, nor can my imagination form any shape 
 
 ^ Ordered. 
 
THE TEMPEST. n 
 
 but yours that I could like. But, sir, I fear I talk to 
 you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget." 295 
 
 At this Prosper© smiled, and nodded his head, as 
 much as to say, " This goes on exactly as I could wish. 
 My girl will be Queen of Naples." 
 
 And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for 
 young princes speak in courtly phrases), told the inno-300 
 cent Miranda he was heir to the crown of Naples, and 
 that she should be his queen. 
 
 " Ah ! sir," said she, " I am a fool to weep at what I 
 am glad of. I will answer you in plain and holy inno- 
 cence. I am your wife, if you will marry me." 305 
 
 Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing 
 visible before them. 
 
 " Fear nothing, my child," said he ; " I have overheard 
 and approve of all you have said. And, Ferdinand, if 
 I have too severely used you, I will make you rich amends 31° 
 by giving you my daughter. All your vexations were 
 but my trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the 
 test. Then as my gift, which your true love has worthi- 
 ly purchased, take my daughter, and do not smile that I 
 boast she is above all praise." He then, telling them 31s 
 that he had business which required his presence, de- 
 sired they would sit down and talk together till he re- 
 turned; and this command Miranda seemed not at all 
 disposed to disobey. 
 
 When Prospero left them he called his spirit Ariel, 3=° 
 who quickly appeared before him, eager to relate what 
 he had done with Prospero's brother and the King of 
 Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out of their 
 senses with fear at the strange things he had caused 
 them to see and hear. When fatigued with wandering 325 
 about and famished for want of food, he had suddenly 
 
12 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 set before them a delicious banquet^ and then, just as 
 they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them 
 in the shape of a harpy, a voracious^ monster with wings, 
 and the feast vanished away. Then", to their utter amaze- 330 
 ment, this seeming harpy spoke to them, reminding them 
 of their cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom, 
 and leaving him and his infant daughter to perish in 
 the sea ; saying that for this cause these terrors were 
 suffered to afflict them. 33s 
 
 The King of Naples and Antonio, the false brother, 
 repented the injustice they had done to Prospero ; and 
 Ariel told his master he was certain their penitence was 
 sincere, and that he, though a spirit, could not but pity 
 them. 340 
 
 " Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero. " If 
 you, who are but a spirit, feel for their distress, shall not 
 I, who am a human being like themselves, have compas- 
 sion on them? Bring them quickly, my dainty Ariel." 
 
 Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old 345 
 Gonzalo in their train, who had followed him, wondering 
 at the wild music he played in the air to draw them on 
 to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the same 
 who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with 
 books and provisions, when his wicked brother left him, 350 
 as he thought, to perish in an open boat in the sea. 
 
 Grief and terror had so stupefied^ their senses that 
 they did not know Prospero. He first discovered ^ him- 
 self to the good old Gonzalo, calling him the preserver 
 of his life; and then his brother and the king knew that 35s 
 he was the injured Prospero. 
 
 Antonio, with tears and sad words of sorrow and true 
 repentance, implored his brother's forgiveness, and the 
 
 ^ Greedy, ravenous. - IMade stupid. ^ Made known. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 
 
 13 
 
 FERDINAND AND MIRANDA AT CHESS. 
 
 king expressed his sincere remorse for having assisted 
 Antonio to depose ' his brother, and Prospero forgave 360 
 them j and, upon their engaging to restore his dukedom, 
 ^ Remove from his office or dukedom. 
 
14 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 he said to the King of Naples, "I have a gift in store 
 for you too ;" and, opening a door, showed him his 
 son Ferdinand playing at chess with Miranda. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and theses 
 son at this unexpected meeting, for they each thought 
 the other drowned in the storm. 
 
 "O wonder!" said Miranda, " what noble creatures 
 these are! It must surely be a brave ^ world that has 
 such people in it." 370 
 
 The King of Naples was almost as much astonished 
 at the beauty and excellent graces of the young Miranda 
 as his son had been. "Who is this maid.''" said he; 
 " she seems the goddess that has parted us, and brought 
 us thus together." " No, sir," answered Ferdinand, 375 
 smiling to find his father had fallen into the same mis- 
 take that he had done when he first saw Miranda, "she 
 is a mortal, but by immortal Providence she is mine; I 
 chose her when I could not ask you, my father, for your 
 consent, not thinking you were alive. She is the daugh- 380 
 ter to this Prospero, who is the famous Duke of Milan 
 of whose renown I have heard so much, but never saw 
 him till now. Of him I have received a new life : he 
 has made himself to me a second father, giving me this 
 dear lady." 385 
 
 "Then I must be her father," said the king; "but 
 O, how oddly will it sound, that I must ask my child 
 forgiveness !" 
 
 "No more of that," said Prospero; "let us not re- 
 member our troubles past, since they so happily have 39° 
 ended." And then Prospero embraced his brother, and 
 again assured him of his forgiveness; and said that a 
 wise, overruling Providence had permitted that he should 
 
 ^ Beautiful. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 15 
 
 be driven from his poor dukedom of Milan, that his 
 daughter might inherit the crown of Naples; for that, 395 
 by their meeting in this desert island, it had happened 
 that the king's son had loved Miranda. 
 
 These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to 
 comfort his brother, so filled Antonio with shame and 
 remorse that he wept and was unable to speak; and the 400 
 kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation, 
 and prayed for blessings on the young couple. 
 
 Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in 
 the harbor and the sailors all on board her, and that he 
 and his daughter would accompany them home the next 405 
 morning. "In the meantime," said he, "partake of 
 such refreshments as my poor cave affords ; and for 
 your evening's entertainment I will relate the history of 
 my life from my first landing in this desert island." He 
 then called for Caliban to prepare some food and set 410 
 the cave in order; and the company were astonished at 
 the uncouth^ form and savage appearance of this ugly 
 monster, who, Prospero said, was the only attendant he 
 had to wait upon him. 
 
 Before Prospero left the island he dismissed Ariel 415 
 from his service, to the great joy of that lively little 
 spirit, who, though he had been a faithful servant to his 
 master, was always longing to enjoy his free liberty, to 
 wander uncontrolled^ in the air, like a wild bird, under 
 green trees, among pleasant fruits and sweet-smelling 420 
 flowers. "My quaint^ Ariel," said Prospero to the little 
 sprite when he made him free, " I shall miss you ; yet 
 you shall have your freedom." " Thank you, my dear 
 master," said Ariel; "but give me leave to attend your 
 ship home with prosperous gales, before you bid farewell 425 
 
 ^ Strange, odd. "^ Free, without restraint. ^ Fine, pretty. 
 
1 6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 430 
 
 435 
 
 to the assistance of your faithful spirit; and then, mas- 
 ter, when I am free, how merrily I shall live !" Here 
 Ariel sung this pretty song : 
 
 " Where the bee sucks, there suck I : 
 
 In the cowslip's bell I lie ; 
 
 There I couch when owls do cry. 
 
 On the bat's back I do fly 
 
 After summer merrily. 
 Merrily, merrily, shall I live now 
 Under the blossom that hangs on the bough." 
 
 Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical 
 books and wand, for he was resolved never more to make 
 use of the magic art. And having thus overcome his 
 enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the 
 King of Naples, nothing now remained to complete his 44° 
 happiness but to revisit his native land, to take posses- 
 sion of his dukedom, and to witness the happy nuptials^ 
 of his daughter Miranda and Prince Ferdinand, which 
 the king said should be instantly celebrated with great 
 splendor on their return to Naples ; at which place, 445 
 under the safe convoy^ of the spirit Ariel, they, after a 
 pleasant voyage, soon arrived. 
 
 ' Wedding. ^ Guidance, 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 There was a law in the city of Athens which gave to 
 its citizens the power of compelling their daughters to 
 marry whomsoever they pleased; for, on a daughter's 
 refusing to marry the man her father had chosen to be 
 her husband, the father was empowered by this law to 
 cause her to be put to death. But, as fathers do not 
 often desire the death of their own daughters, even 
 though they do happen to prove a little refractory, this 
 law was seldom or never put in execution, though per- 
 
1 8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 haps the young ladies of that city were not unfrequently lo 
 threatened by their parents with the terrors of it. 
 
 There was one instance, however, of an old man, 
 whose name was Egeus,^ who actually did come before 
 Theseus^ (at that time the reigning Duke of Athens) to 
 complain that his daughter Hermia,^ whom he had com- 15 
 manded to marry Demetrius,* a young man of a noble 
 Athenian family, refused to obey him, because she loved 
 another young Athenian, named Lysander.^ Egeus de- 
 manded justice of Theseus, and desired that this cruel 
 law might be put in force against his daughter. 20 
 
 Hermia pleaded, in excuse for her disobedience, that 
 Demetrius had formerly professed love for her dear 
 friend Helena,® and that Helena loved Demetrius to 
 distraction ; but this honorable reason which Hermia 
 gave for not obeying her father's command moved not 25 
 the stern Egeus. 
 
 Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no 
 power to alter the laws of his country; therefore he 
 could only give Hermia four days to consider of it ; and 
 at the end of that time, if she still refused to marry De-30 
 metrius, she was to be put to death. 
 
 When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of 
 the duke, she went to her lover Lysander, and told him 
 the peril she was in, and that she must either give up 
 him and marry Demetrius or lose her life in four days. 35 
 
 Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil 
 tidings; but, recollecting that he had an aunt who lived 
 at some distance from Athens, and that at the place 
 where she lived the cruel law could not be put \\\ force 
 against Hermia (this law not extending beyond the 4° 
 
 ' E-je'-us. ^ The'-se-us. ^ Her'-mi-a. 
 
 * De-me'-tri-iis. ^ Ly-san'-der. * Hel'-e-na. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM. 
 
 19 
 
 boundaries of the city), he proposed to Hermia that she 
 should steal out of her father's house that night, and 
 go with him to his aunt's house, where he would marry 
 her. " I will meet you," said Lysander, " in the wood 
 a few miles without the city; in that delightful wood 45 
 where we have so often walked with Helena in the 
 pleasant month of May." 
 
 To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed ; and she 
 told no one of her intended flight but her friend Helena. 
 Helena (as maidens will do foolish things for love) very 5° 
 ungenerously resolved to go and tell this to Demetrius, 
 though she could hope no benefit from betraying her 
 friend's secret but the poor pleasure of following her 
 faithless lover to the wood ; for she well knew that 
 Demetrius would go thither in pursuit of Hermia. 55 
 
 The wood in which Lysander and Hermia proposed 
 to meet was the favorite haunt of those little beings 
 known by the name oi Fairies. 
 
 Oberon,' the king, and Titania,'' the queen, of the 
 Fairies, with all their tiny train of followers, in this6o 
 wood held their midnight revels. 
 
 Between this little king and queen of sprites there 
 happened at this time a sad disagreement: they never 
 met by moonlight in the shady walks of this pleasant 
 wood but they were quarrelling, till all their fairy elves 65 
 would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for 
 fear. 
 
 The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's 
 refusing to give Oberon a little changeling boy, whose 
 mother had been Titania's friend ; and upon her death 70 
 the fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and 
 brought him up in the woods. 
 
 ^ O'-be-ron. 2 Ti-ta'-nl-a. 
 
20 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARKS COMEDIES. 
 
 The night on which the lovers were to meet in the 
 wood, as Titania was walking with some of her maids 
 of honor, she met Oberon attended by his train of fairy 75 
 courtiers. 
 
 " 111 met by moonliglit, proud Titania," said the fairy 
 king. The queen replied, " What, jealous Oberon, is it 
 you? Fairies, skip hence j I have forsworn^ his com- 
 pany." "Tarry, rash fairy," said Oberon; "am not I 80 
 thy lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give 
 me your little changeling boy to be my page." 
 
 "Set your heart at rest," answered the queen ; 
 "your whole fairy kingdom buys not the boy of me." 
 She then left her lord in great anger. 85 
 
 " Well, go your way," said Oberon ; " before the 
 morning dawns I will torment you for this injury." 
 
 Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favorite and 
 privy-councillor. 
 
 Puck (or, as he was sometimes called, Robin Good- 90 
 fellow) was a shrewd and knavish sprite, that used to 
 play comical pranks in the neighboring villages; some- 
 times getting into the dairies and skimming the milk ; 
 sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the 
 butter-churn, and, while he was dancing his fantastic 95 
 shape in the vessel, in vain the dairy-maid would labor 
 to change her cream into butter. Nor had the village 
 swains any better success ; whenever Puck chose to 
 play his freaks in the brewing-copper,'^ the ale was sure 
 to be spoiled. When a few good neighbors were met loo 
 to drink some comfortable^ ale together, Puck would 
 jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of a roasted 
 crab,* and when some old goody was going to drink he 
 
 * Sworn to avoid. "^ Kettle for brewing, or making beer. 
 
 ' Comforting. * Crab-apple. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S .DREAM. 2 1 
 
 would bob against her lips, and spill the ale over her 
 withered chin ; and presently after, when the same old 105 
 dame was gravely seating herself to tell her neighbors 
 a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip her three- 
 legged stool from under her, and down toppled the poor 
 old woman; and then the gossips^ would hold their 
 sides and laugh at her, and swear they never wasted ^"o 
 a merrier hour. 
 
 " Come hither, Puck," said Oberon to this little merry 
 wanderer of the night; "fetch me the flower^ which 
 maids call ' Love in Idleness.' The juice of that little 
 purple flower, laid on the eyelids of those who sleep, "S 
 will make them, when they awake, dote on the first thing 
 they see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop 
 on the eyelids of my Titania when she is asleep; and 
 the first thing she looks upon when she opens her eyes 
 she will fall in love with, even though it be a lion, or a 120 
 bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape ; and before I 
 will take this charm from off her sight, which I can do 
 with another charm I know of, I will make her give me 
 that boy to be my page." 
 
 Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly 125 
 diverted with this intended frolic of his master, and ran 
 to seek the flower ; and, while Oberon was waiting the 
 return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and Helena en- 
 ter the woods. He overheard Demetrius reproaching 
 Helena for following him and, after many unkind words 130 
 on his part and gentle expostulations from Helena, re- 
 minding him of his former love and professions of true 
 faith to her, he left her (as he said) to the mercy of 
 the wild beasts, and she ran after him as swiftly as she 
 could. 13s 
 
 * Old women. ^ Spent. ^ The pansy. 
 
22 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, 
 felt great compassion for Helena; and perhaps, as Ly- 
 sander said they used to walk by moonlight in this 
 pleasant wood,Oberon might have seen Helena in those 
 happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius. How- mo 
 ever that might be, when Puck returned with the little 
 purple flower Oberon said to his favorite \ " Take a part 
 of the flower. There has been a sweet Athenian lady 
 here, who is in love with a disdainful youth; if you find 
 him sleeping, drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, ms 
 but contrive to do it when she is near him, that the 
 first thing he sees when he awakes may be his despised 
 lady. You will know the man by the Athenian gar- 
 ments which he wears." Puck promised to manage 
 this matter very dexterously; and then Oberon went, 150 
 unperceived by Titania, to her bower, where she was 
 preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a bank 
 where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets, 
 under a canopy of woodbine, musk-roses, and eglan- 
 tine. There Titania always slept some part of the =^55 
 night; her coverlet the enamelled^ skin of a snake, 
 which, though a small mantle, was wide enough to 
 wrap a fairy in. 
 
 He found Titania giving orders to her fairies how 
 they were to employ themselves while she slept. ^^^ 
 "Some of you," said her majesty, "must kill cankers" 
 in the musk-rose buds, and some wage war with the 
 bats for their leathern wings, to make my, small elves 
 coats ; and some of you keep watch that the clamor- 
 ous owl, that nightly hoots, come not near me; but 165 
 first sing me to sleep." Then they began to sing this 
 song: 
 
 * Glistening like enamel. "^ Canker-worms. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM. 
 
 23 
 
 " You spotted snakes with double' tongue, 
 Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ; 
 Newts ''' and bHnd-worms,^ do no wrong, j^o 
 
 Come not near our fairy queen. 
 
 Philomel,* with melody. 
 Sing in our sweet lullaby ; 
 Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby. 
 
 Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, 175 
 
 Come our lovely lady nigh ; 
 So, good-night with lullaby." 
 
 When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with 
 this pretty lullaby they left her, to perform the impor- 
 tant services she had enjoined them. Oberon then 180 
 softly drew near his Titania, and dropped some of the 
 love-juice on her eyelids, saying, 
 
 " What thou seest when thou dost wake. 
 Do it for thy true-love take." 
 
 But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out 185 
 of her father's house that night, to avoid the death she 
 was doomed to for refusing to marry Demetrius. When 
 she entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander 
 waiting for her to conduct her to his aunt's house; but 
 before they had passed half through the wood Hermia 190 
 was so much fatigued that Lysander, who was very care- 
 ful of this dear lady that had proved her affection for 
 him even by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded 
 her to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss, and, 
 lying down himself on the ground at some little dis- 195 
 tance, they soon fell fast asleep. Here they were found 
 by Puck, who, seeing a handsome young man asleep, 
 and perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athe- 
 
 ^ Forked. ^ Lizards. ' ^ Earth-worms. 
 
 ^ Phll'-o-mel ; die nightingale. 
 
24 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 nian fashion and that a pretty lady was sleeping near 
 him, concluded that this must be the Athenian maid 200 
 and her disdainful lover whom Oberon had sent him to 
 seek; and he naturally enough conjectured that, as they 
 were alone together, she must be the first thing he 
 would see when he awoke : so, without more ado, he 
 proceeded to pour some of the juice of the little purple 205 
 flower into his eyes. But it so fell out that Helena 
 came that way, and, instead of Hermia, was the first 
 object Lysander beheld when he opened his eyes; and, 
 strange to relate, so powerful was the love-charm, all his 
 love for Hermia vanished away, and Lysander fell In 210 
 love with Helena. 
 
 Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blun- 
 der Puck committed would have been of no conse- 
 quence, for he could not love that faithful lady too well ; 
 but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm 215 
 to forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another 
 lady, and leave Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at 
 midnight, was a sad chance indeed. 
 
 Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been 
 before related, endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius 220 
 when he ran away so rudely from her; but she could 
 not continue this unequal race long, men being always 
 better runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon 
 lost sight of Demetrius; and as she was wandering 
 about, dejected and forlorn, she arrived at the place 225 
 where Lysander was sleeping. "Ah!" said she, "this is 
 Lysander lying on the ground. Is he dead or asleep?" 
 Then, gently touching him, she said, "Good sir, if you 
 are alive, awake." Upon this Lysander opened his eyes, 
 and (the love-charm beginning to work) immediately 230 
 addressed her in terms of extravagant love and admi- 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAM. 
 
 25 
 
 ration ; telling her she as much excelled Hermia in 
 beauty as a dove does a raven, and that he would run 
 through fire for her sweet sake, and many more such 
 lover-like speeches. Helena, knowing Lysander was her 235 
 friend Hermia's lover, and that he was solemnly en- 
 gaged to marry her, was in ths utmost rage when she 
 heard herself addressed in this manner ; for she thought 
 (as well she might) that Lysander was making a jest of 
 her. " Oh !" said she, " why was I born to be mocked 240 
 and scorned by every one? Is it not enough, is it not 
 enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet look or 
 a kind word from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend, 
 in this disdainful manner, to court me? I thought, Ly- 
 sander, you were a lord of more true gentleness." ^ Say- 245 
 ing these words in great anger, she ran away; and Ly- 
 sander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, 
 who was still asleep. 
 
 When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at find- 
 ing herself alone. She wandered about the wood, not 250 
 knowing what was become of Lysander or which way 
 to go to seek for him. In the meantime, Demetrius, 
 not being able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, 
 and fatigued with his fruitless search, was observed by 
 Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had learned, by some ques-255 
 tions he had asked of Puck, that he had applied the 
 love-charm to the wrong person's eyes; and now, having 
 found the person first intended, he touched the eyelids 
 of the sleeping Demetrius with the love-juice, and he 
 instantly awoke; and, the first thing he saw being Hel- 260 
 ena, he, as Lysander had done before, began to address 
 love-speeches to her; and just at that moment, Lysan- 
 der, followed by Hermia (for through Puck's unlucky 
 ' Gentlemanliness 
 
2 6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. • 
 
 mistake it was now become Hermia's turn to run after 
 her lover), made his appearance; and then Lysander265 
 and Demetrius, both speaking together, made love to 
 Helena, they being each one under the influence of the 
 same potent charm. 
 
 The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Ly- 
 sander, and her once dear friend Hermia were all in a 270 
 plot together to make a jest of her. 
 
 Hermia was as much surprised as Helena: she knew 
 not why Lysander and Demetrius, who both before loved 
 her, were now become the lovers of Helena ; and to 
 Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest. The ladies, 275 
 who before had always been the dearest of friends, now 
 fell to high words together. 
 
 "Unkind Hermia," said Helena, "it is you have set 
 Lysandjpr on to vex me with mock praises ; and your 
 other lover, Demetrius, who used almost to spurn me 280 
 with his foot, have you not bid him call me goddess, 
 nymph, rare, precious, and celestial 1 He would not 
 speak thus to me whom he hates, if you did not set him 
 on to make a jest of me. Unkind Hermia, to join with 
 men in scorning your poor friend! Have you forgot 283 
 our school-day friendship.? How often, Hermia, have 
 we two, sitting on one cushion, both singing one song, 
 with our needles working the same flower, both on the 
 same sampler^ wrought; growing up together in fashion 
 of a double cherry, scarcely seeming parted ! Hermia, 290 
 it is not friendly in you, it is not maidenly, to join with 
 men in scorning your poor friend." 
 
 " I am amazed at your passionate words," said Her- 
 mia: "I scorn you not; it seems you scorn me." "Ay, 
 do," returned Helena, "persevere; counterfeit serious 295 
 ' Piece of embroidery. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAM. 
 
 27 
 
 looks, and make mouths at me when I turn my back; 
 then wink at each other, and hold^ the sweet jest up. 
 If you had any pity, grace, or manners, you would not 
 use me thus." 
 
 While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry 300 
 words to each other, Demetrius and Lysander left them, 
 to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena. 
 
 When they found the gentlemen had left them, they 
 departed and once more wandered weary in the wood 
 in search of their lovers. 305 
 
 As soon as they were gone, the fairy king, who with 
 little Puck had been listening to their quarrels, said to 
 him, "This is your negligence, Puck ; or did you do this 
 wilfully?" "Believe me, king of shadows,"^ answered 
 Puck, " it was a mistake : did not you tell me I should 31° 
 know the man by his Athenian garments? However, I 
 am not sorry this has happened, for I think their jan- 
 gling^ makes excellent sport." "You heard," said Obe- 
 ron, "that Demetrius and Lysander are gone to seek a 
 convenient place to fight in. I command you to over- 31s 
 hang the night with a thick fog, and lead these quarrel- 
 some lovers so astray in the dark that they shall not 
 be able to find each other. Counterfeit each of their 
 voices to the other, and with bitter taunts provoke them 
 to follow you, while they think it is their rival's tongue 320 
 they hear. See you do this till they are so weary they 
 can go no farther; and when you find they are asleep 
 drop the juice of this other flower into Lysander's eyes, 
 and when he awakes he will forget his new love for 
 Helena and return to his old passion for Hermia; and 325 
 then the two fair ladies may each one be happy with the 
 man she loves, and they will think all that has passed 
 ^ Keep. ^ Spirits. ^ Quarrelling. 
 
2 8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 
 
 PUCK MISLEADING THE LOVERS. 
 
 a vexatious dream. About this quickly, Puck; and I 
 will go and see what sweet love my Titania has found." 
 
 Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon seeing a clown 33° 
 near her who had lost his way in the wood and was 
 likewise asleep, "This fellow," said he, "shall be my 
 Titania's true love ;" and clapping an ass's head over 
 the clown's, it seemed to fit him as well as if it had 
 grown upon his own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed 335 
 the ass's head on very gently, it awakened him ; and 
 rising up, unconscious of what Oberon had done to him, 
 he went towards the bower where the fairy queen slept. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAM. 
 
 29 
 
 "Ah! what angel is that I see?" said Titania, open- 
 ing her eyes, and the juice of the little purple flower 340 
 beginning to take effect. "Are you as wise as you are 
 beautiful?" 
 
 " Why, mistress," said the foolish clown, " if I have 
 wit enough to find the way out of this wood, I have 
 enough to serve my turn." 34s 
 
 " Out of the wood do not desire to go," said the 
 - enamoured^ queen. " I am a spirit of no common rate.^ 
 I love you. Go with me, and I will give you fairies to 
 attend upon you." 
 
 She then called four of her fairies; their names were 350 
 Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard- seed. 
 
 "Attend," said the queen, "upon this sweet gentle- 
 man ; hop in his walks, and gambol in his sight ; feed 
 him with grapes and apricots, and steal for him the 
 honey-bags from the bees. Come, sit w^ith me," said she 355 
 to the clown, " and let me play with your amiable hairy 
 cheeks, my beautiful ass, and kiss your fair large ears, 
 my gentle joy !" 
 
 " Where is Pease-blossom ?" said the ass-headed clown ; 
 not much regarding the fairy queen's courtship, but very 360 
 proud of his new attendants. 
 
 " Here, sir," said little Pease-blossom. 
 
 " Scratch my head," said the clown. "Where is Cob- 
 web?" 
 
 " Here, sir," said Cobweb. 365 
 
 "Good Mr. Cobweb," said the foolish clown, " kill me 
 the red humble-bee on the top of that thistle yonder ; 
 and, good Mr. Cobweb, bring me the honey-bag. Do 
 not fret yourself too much in the action, Mr. Cobweb, 
 and take care the honey-bag break not; I should be 37° 
 ^ Loving. ^ Rank. 
 
30 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 sorry to have you overflowed with a honey-bag. Where 
 is Mustard-seed?" 
 
 " Here, sir," said Mustard-seed; "what is your will?" 
 
 "Nothing," said the clown, "good Mr. Mustard-seed, 
 but to help Mr. Pease-blossom to scratch. I must go 375 
 to a barber's, Mr. Mustard-seed, for methinks^ I am 
 marvellous hairy about the face." 
 
 " My sweet love," said the queen, " what will you 
 have to eat? I have a venturous fairy shall seek the 
 squirrel's hoard, and fetch you some new nuts." 380 
 
 " I had rather have a handful of dried peas," said the 
 clown, who with his ass's head had got an ass's appe- 
 tite. " But, I pray, let none of your people disturb me, 
 for I have a mind to sleep." 
 
 " Sleep, then," said the queen, " and I will wind you 3^5 
 in my arms. O, how I love you ! How I dote upon 
 you !" 
 
 When the fairy, king saw the clown sleeping in the 
 arms of his queen, he advanced within her sight and re- 
 proached her with having lavished her favors upon an 39° 
 ass. When he had teased her for some time, he again 
 demanded the changeling boy ; which she, ashamed 
 of being discovered by her lord with her new favorite, 
 did not dare to refuse him. 
 
 Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had 39s 
 so long wished for to be his page, took pity on the dis- 
 graceful situation into which by his merry contrivance 
 he had brought his Titania, and threw some of the 
 juice of the other flower into her eyes; and the fairy 
 queen immediately recovered her senses, and wondered 4°° 
 at her late dotage,^ saying how she now loathed the 
 sight of the strange monster. 
 
 ^ It seems to me. ^ Doting aflfection, foolish love. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM. 31 
 
 Oberon likewise took the ass's head from off the 
 clown, and left him to finish his nap with his own fool's 
 head upon his shoulders. 405 
 
 Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly recon- 
 ciled, he related to her the history of the lovers and 
 their midnight quarrels ; and she agreed to go with him 
 and see the end of their adventures. 
 
 The fiiiry king and queen found the lovers and their 410 
 fair ladies at no great distance from each other, sleep- 
 ing on a grass-plot; for Puck, to make amends for his 
 former mistake, had contrived, with the utmost dili- 
 gence, to bring them all to the same spot, unknown to 
 each other; and he had carefully removed the charm 415 
 from off the eyes of Lysander with the antidote^ the 
 fairy king gave to him. 
 
 Hermia first awoke and, finding her lost Lysander 
 asleep so near her, was looking at him, and wondering 
 at his strange inconstancy. Lysander presently open- 420 
 ing his eyes, and seeing his dear Hermia, recovered his 
 reason, which the fairy charm had before clouded, and 
 with his reason his love for Hermia ; and they began 
 to talk over the adventures of the night, doubting if 
 these things had really happened, or if they had both 425 
 been dreaming the same bewildering dream. 
 
 Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake ; and 
 a sweet sleep having quieted Helena's disturbed and 
 angry spirits, she listened with delight to the professions 
 of love which Demetrius still made to her, and which, 430 
 to her surprise as well as pleasure, she began to per- 
 ceive were sincere. 
 
 These fair night- wandering ladies, now no longer 
 rivals, became once more true friends; all the unkind 
 
 ^ Remedy. 
 
32 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 words which had passed were forgiven, and they calmly 435 
 consulted together what was best to be done in their 
 present situation. It was soon agreed that, as Deme- 
 trius had given up his pretensions to Hermia, he should 
 endeavor to prevail upon her father to revoke the cruel 
 sentence of death which had been passed against her. 440 
 Demetrius was preparing to return to Athens for this 
 friendly purpose, when they were surprised at the sight 
 of Egeus, Hermia's father, who came to the wood in 
 pursuit of his runaway daughter. 
 
 When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not 445 
 now marry his daughter, he no longer opposed her mar- 
 riage with L3^sander, but gave his consent that they 
 should be wedded on the fourth day from that time, 
 being the same day on which Hermia had been con- 
 demned to lose her life; and on that same day Helena 45° 
 joyfully agreed to marry her beloved and now faithful 
 Demetrius. 
 
 The fairy king and queen, who were invisible specta- 
 tors of this reconciliation, and now saw the happy end- 
 ing of the lovers' history brought about through the 455 
 good offices of Oberon, received so much pleasure that 
 these kind spirits resolved to celebrate the approach- 
 ing nuptials with sports and revels throughout their 
 fairy kingdom. 
 
 And now, if any are offended with this story of fairies 4<^c> 
 and their pranks, as judging it incredible and strange, 
 they have only to think that they have been asleep and 
 dreaming, and that all these adventures were visions 
 which they saw in their sleep ; and I hope none of my 
 readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with ^^s 
 a pretty, harmless Midsummer-Night's Dream. 
 
MESSINA FROM THE SEA. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 There lived in the palace at Messina' two ladies, 
 whose names were Hero and Beatrice.'^ Hero was the 
 daughter, and Beatrice the niece, of Leonato,^ the gov- 
 ernor of Messina. 
 
 Beatrice was of a lively temper, and loved to divert s 
 her cousin Hero, who was of a more serious disposition, 
 with her sprightly sallies. Whatever was going forward 
 was sure to make matter of mirth for the light-hearted 
 Beatrice. 
 
 At the time the history of these ladies commences, lo 
 some young men of high rank in the army, as they were 
 passing through Messina on their return from a war 
 that was just ended, in which they had distinguished 
 themselves by their great bravery, came to visit Leo- 
 nato. Among these were Don Pedro, the Prince of is 
 
 * Mes-si'-na H as in machine). 
 
 ^ Le-o-na'-to {a as in ah). 
 
 3 
 
 ^ Be'-a-trice. 
 
34 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Arragon/ and his friend Claudio, who was a lord of 
 Florence ; and with them came the wild and witty- 
 Benedick,^ and he was a lord of Padua.^ 
 
 These strangers had been at Messina before, and the 
 hospitable governor introduced them to his daughter 20 
 and his niece as their old friends and acquaintance. 
 
 Benedick, the moment he entered the room, began a 
 lively conversation with Leonato and the prince. Bea- 
 trice, who liked not to be left out of any discourse, in- 
 terrupted Benedick with saying, " I wonder that you 25 
 will still be talking, Signior Benedick; nobody marks 
 you." Benedick was just such another rattle-brain as 
 Beatrice, yet he was not pleased at this free salutation :* 
 he thought it did not become a well-bred lady to be so 
 flippant with her tongue; and he remembered, when he 30 
 was last at Messina, that Beatrice used to select him to 
 make her merry jests upon. And as there is no one 
 who so little likes to be made a jest of as those who 
 are apt to take the same liberty themselves, so it was 
 with Benedick and Beatrice; these two sharp wits never 35 
 met in former times but a perfect war of raillery was 
 kept up between them, and they always parted mutually 
 displeased with each other. Therefore, when Beatrice 
 stopped him in the middle of his discourse with telling 
 him nobody marked what he was saying, Benedick, af-40 
 fecting*^ not to have observed before that she was pres- 
 ent, said, "What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet 
 living?" And now war broke out afresh between them, 
 and a long jangling argument ensued, during which 
 Beatrice, although she knew he had so well approved %5 
 his valor in the late war, said she would eat all he had 
 
 * Ar'-ra-gon. ^ Ben'-e-dick. ' Pad'-u-a. 
 
 * Greeting. * Pretending. ^ Proved, shown. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 35 
 
 killed there; and, observing the prince take delight in 
 Benedick's conversation, she called him " the prince's 
 jester." This sarcasm^ sunk deeper into the mind of 
 Benedick than all Beatrice had said before. The hint 50 
 she gave him that he was a coward, by saying she 
 would eat all he had killed, he did not regard, knowing 
 himself to be a brave man ; but there is nothing that 
 great wits so much dread as the imputation'^ of buffoon- 
 ery,^ because the charge comes sometimes a little too 55 
 near the truth: therefore Benedick perfectly hated Bea- 
 trice when she called him " the prince's Jester." 
 
 The modest lady Hero was silent before the noble 
 guests; and while Claudio was attentively observing 
 the improvement which time had made in her beauty, 60 
 and was contemplating the exquisite graces of her fine 
 figure (for she was an admirable young lady), the prince 
 was highly amused with listening to the humorous 
 dialogue between Benedick and Beatrice; and he said, 
 in a whisper, to Leonato, " This is a pleasant-spirited 65 
 young lady. She were* an excellent wife for Bene- 
 dick." Leonato replied to this suggestion, " O my lord, 
 my lord, if they were but a week married, they would 
 talk themselves mad !" But, though Leonato thought 
 they would make a discordant^ pair? the prince did not 70 
 give up the idea of matching these two keen wits to- 
 gether. 
 
 When the prince returned with Claudio from the 
 palace, he found that the marriage he had devised be- 
 tween Benedick and Beatrice was not the only one 75 
 projected in that good company, for Claudio spoke in 
 such terms of Hero as made the prince guess at what 
 
 ' Bitter or cutting remark. - Charge, accusation. 
 
 ^ Being a buffoon, or clown. * Would be. ^ Quarrelsome. 
 
36 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 was passing in his heart; and he liked it well, and he 
 said to Claudio, " Do you affect ^ Hero ?" To this ques- 
 tion Claudio replied, " O my lord, when I was last at 80 
 Messina, I looked upon her with a soldier's eye, that 
 liked, but had no leisure for loving ; but now, in this 
 happy time of peace, thoughts of war have left their 
 places vacant in my mind, and in their room come 
 thronging soft and delicate thoughts, all prompting me 85 
 how fair young Hero is, reminding me that I liked her 
 before I went to the wars." Claudio's confession of 
 his love for Hero so wrought upon the prince that he 
 lost no time in soliciting the consent of Leonato to 
 accept of Claudio for a son-in-law. Leonato agreed to 90 
 this proposal, and the prince found no great difficulty 
 in persuading the gentle Hero herself to listen to the 
 suit of the noble Claudio, who was a lord of rare en- 
 dowments ^ and highly accomplished ;^ and Claudio, as- 
 sisted by his kind prince, soon prevailed upon Leonato 95 
 to fix an early day for the celebration of his marriage 
 with Hero. 
 
 Claudio was to wait but a few days before he was to 
 be married to his fair lady; yet he complained of the 
 interval being tedious, as, indeed, most young men are 10° 
 impatient when they are waiting for the accomplish- 
 ment* of any event they have set their hearts upon. 
 The prince, therefore, to make the time seem short to 
 him, proposed, as a kind of merry pastime, that they 
 should invent some artful scheme to make Benedick 105 
 and Beatrice fall in love with each other. Claudio en- 
 
 ^ Love. ^ Gifts, talents, 
 
 ^ Cultivated; referring to training or education, as endoitmtents 
 does to natural gifts or qualities. 
 ^ Fulfilling, completion. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 37 
 
 tered with great satisfaction into this whim of the 
 prince, and Leonato promised them his assistance, and 
 even Hero said she would do any modest office^ to 
 help her cousin to a good husband. no 
 
 The device the prince invented was, that the gentle- 
 men should make Benedick believe that Beatrice was 
 in love with him, and that Hero should make Beatrice 
 believe that Benedick was in love with her. 
 
 The prince, Leonato, and Claudio began their opera- 115 
 tions first, and, watching an opportunity when Benedick 
 was quietly seated reading in an arbor, the prince and 
 his assistants took their station among the trees behind 
 the arbor, so near that Benedick could not choose but 
 hear^ all they said; and after some careless talk the 120 
 prince said : '' Come hither, Leonato. What was it you 
 told me the other day — that your niece Beatrice was in 
 love with Siguier Benedick? I did never think that 
 lady would have loved any man." "No, nor I neither," 
 my lord," answered Leonato. " It is most wonderful 125 
 that she should so dote on* Benedick, whom she in all 
 outward behavior seemed ever to dislike." Claudio 
 confirmed all this with saying that Hero had told him 
 Beatrice was so in love with Benedick that she would 
 certainly die of grief if he could not be brought to 130 
 love her ; which Leonato and Claudio seemed to 
 agree was impossible, he having always been such a 
 railer against all fair ladies, and in particular against 
 Beatrice. 
 
 The prince affected^ to hearken to all this with great 13s 
 compassion for Beatrice, and he said, "It were® good 
 
 ^ Action. ^ Could not help (or avoid) hearing. 
 
 ^ See Notes. ^ Greatly love. 
 
 ^ Pretended. ^ Would be. 
 
38 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 that Benedick were told of this." " To what end ?" said 
 Claudio; "he would but make sport of it, and torment 
 the poor lady worse." " And if he should," said the 
 prince, " it were a good deed to hang him ; for Beatrice 140 
 is an excellent ^ sweet lady, and exceeding wise in every 
 thing but in loving Benedick." Then the prince mo- 
 tioned to his companions that they should walk on and 
 leave Benedick to meditate upon what he had over- 
 heard. 145 
 
 Benedick had been listening with great eagerness 
 to this conversation ; and he said to himself when he 
 heard Beatrice loved him, "Is it possible? Sits the 
 wind in that corner?"^ And when they were gone he 
 began to reason in this manner with himself: "This 150 
 can be no trick ; they were very serious, and they have 
 the truth from Hero and seem to pity the lady. Love 
 me ! Why, it must be requited ! I did never think to 
 marry. But, when I said I should die a bachelor, I did 
 not think I should live to be married. They say the 155 
 lady is virtuous and fair. She is so. And wise in 
 everything but in loving me. Why, that is no great 
 argument^ of her folly. But here comes Beatrice. By 
 this day, she is a fair lady! I do spy some marks of 
 love in her." Beatrice now approached him, and said 160 
 with her usual tartness, " Against my will I am sent to 
 bid you come in to dinner." Benedick, who never felt 
 himself disposed to speak so politely to her before, re- 
 plied, "Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains;" and 
 when Beatrice after two or three more rude speeches 165 
 left him. Benedick thought he observed a concealed 
 meaning of kindness under the uncivil words she ut- 
 tered, and he said aloud, "If I do not take pity on her, 
 
 1 Very. See Notes. ^ See Notes. ^ Proof. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 39 
 
 I am a villain. If I do not love her, I am a Jew. I 
 will go get her picture." 170 
 
 The gentleman being thus caught in the net they 
 had spread for him, it was now Hero's turn to play her 
 part with Beatrice; and for this purpose she sent for 
 Ursula^ and Margaret, two gentlewomen who attended 
 upon her, and she said to Margaret : " Good Margaret, 17s 
 run to the parlor j there you will find my cousin Bea- 
 trice talking with the prince and Claudio. Whisper in 
 her ear that I and Ursula are walking in the orchard, 
 and that our discourse is all of her. Bid her steal into 
 that pleasant arbor where honeysuckles, ripened by the 180 
 sun, like ungrateful minions,^ forbid the sun to enter." 
 This arbor, into which Hero desired Margaret to entice 
 Beatrice, was the very same pleasant arbor where Ben- 
 edick had so lately been an attentive listener. " I will 
 make her come, I warrant, presently,"^ said Margaret. 185 
 
 Hero, then taking Ursula with her into the orchard, 
 said to her : " Now, Ursula, when Beatrice comes, we 
 will walk up and down this alley, and our talk must be 
 only of Benedick, and when I name him let it be your 
 part to praise him more than ever man did merit. My 190 
 talk to you must be how Benedick is in love with Bea- 
 trice. Now begin ; for look where Beatrice, like a lap- 
 wing,^ runs close by the ground, to hear our confer- 
 ence." ^ Then they began. Hero saying, as if in answer 
 to something which Ursula had said, " No, truly, Ursula. 19s 
 She is too disdainful; her spirits are as coy^ as wild 
 birds of the rock." " But are you sure," said Ursula, 
 "that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?" Hero re- 
 
 ^ Ur'-su-la. ^ Favorites. ^ Instantly. See N'otes. 
 
 ^ A bird. See Notes. * Talk, conversation. 
 
 ^ Shy, not easily approached. 
 
40 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 plied, " So says the prince, and my lord Claudio, and 
 they entreated me to acquaint her with it; but I per- 200 
 suaded them, if they loved Benedick, never to let Bea- 
 trice know of it." " Certainly," replied Ursula, " it were 
 not good she knew his love, lest she make sport of it." 
 "Why, to say truth," said Hero, "I never yet saw a 
 man, how wise soever, or noble, young, or rarely feat- 205 
 ured,^ but she would dispraise him." " Sure, sure, such 
 carping is not commendable," said Ursula. " No," re- 
 plied Hero, "but who dare tell her so.? If I should 
 speak, she would mock me into air." " O, you wrong 
 your cousin!" said Ursula; "she cannot be so much 210 
 without true judgment as to refuse so rare a gentleman 
 as Signior Benedick." " He hath an excellent good 
 name," said Hero; "indeed, he is the first man in Italy, 
 always excepting my dear Claudio." And now. Hero 
 giving her attendant a hint that it was time to change 215 
 the discourse, Ursula said, " And when are you to be 
 married, madam ?" Hero then told her that she was 
 to be married to Claudio the next day, and desired she 
 would go in with her and look at some new attire, as 
 she wished to consult with her on what she should wear 220 
 on the morrow. Beatrice, who had been listening with 
 breathless eagerness to this dialogue, when they went 
 away, exclaimed : "What fire is in my ears? Can this 
 be true ? Farewell, contempt, and scorn and maiden 
 pride, adieu ! Benedick, love on ! I will requite you, 225 
 taming my wild heart to your loving hand." 
 
 It must have been a pleasant sight to see these old 
 enemies converted into new and loving friends; and to 
 behold their first meeting after being cheated into mut- 
 ual liking by the merry artifice'^ of the good-humored 230 
 ' Handsome of face. "^ Trick. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 41 
 
 S-% ■ 
 
 
 V -\ *^ 
 
 BEATRICE LISTENING TO HERO AND URSULA. 
 
 prince. But a sad reverse in the fortunes of Hero 
 must now be thought of. The morrow, which was to 
 have been her wedding-day, brought sorrow on the 
 heart of Hero and her good father Leonato. 
 
 The prince had a half-brother, who came from the wars 235 
 
42 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 along with him to Messina. This brother (his name 
 was Don John) was a melancholy, discontented man, 
 whose spirits seemed to labor in the contriving of vil- 
 lainies. He hated the prince his brother, and he hated 
 Claudio because he was the prince's friend, and deter- 240 
 mined to prevent Claudio's marriage with Hero, only 
 for the malicious pleasure of making Claudio and the 
 prince unhappy; for he knew the prince had set his 
 heart upon this marriage, almost as much as Claudio 
 himself; and, to effect this wicked purpose, he employed 245 
 one Borachio,^ a man as bad as himself, whom he en- 
 couraged with the offer of a great reward. This Bora- 
 chio paid his court to Margaret, Hero's attendant; and 
 Don John, knowing this, prevailed upon him to make 
 Margaret promise to talk with him from her lady's 250 
 chamber window that night, after Hero was asleep, and 
 also to dress herself in Hero's clothes, the better to de- 
 ceive Claudio into the belief that it was Hero; for that 
 was the end he meant to compass^ by this wicked plot. 
 
 Don John then went to the prince and Claudio, and 255 
 told them that Hero was an imprudent lady, and that 
 she talked with men from her chamber window at mid- 
 night. Now, this was the evening before the wedding, 
 and he offered to take them that night where they 
 should themselves hqar Hero discoursing^ with a man 260 
 from her window; and they consented to go along with 
 him, and Claudio said, " If I see anything to-night why 
 I should not marry her, to-morrow in the congregation,* 
 where I intended to wed her, there I will shame her." 
 The prince also said, " And, as I assisted you to obtain 265 
 her, I will join with you to disgrace her." 
 
 ' Bo-ra'-chi-o {a as in ah, and ch as in cheese). 
 
 '^ Reach, attain. ^ Talking. * Company at church. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 43 
 
 When Don John brought them near Hero's chamber 
 that night, they saw Borachio standing under the win- 
 dow and they saw Margaret looking out of Hero's 
 window and heard her talking with Borachio ; and, 270 
 Margaret being dressed in the same clothes they had 
 seen Hero wear, the prince and Claudio believed it 
 was the lady Hero herself. 
 
 Nothing could equal the anger of Claudio, when he 
 had made, as he thought, this discovery. All his love 275 
 for the innocent Hero was at once converted into ha- 
 tred, and he resolved to expose her in the church, as 
 he had said he would, the next day ; and the prince 
 agreed to this, thinking no punishment could be too 
 severe for the naughty' lady who talked with a man 280 
 from her window the very night before she was going 
 to be married to the noble Claudio. 
 
 The next day, when they were all met to celebrate 
 the marriage, and Claudio and Hero were standing be- 
 fore the priest, and the priest, or friar, as he was called, 285 
 was proceeding to pronounce the marriage ceremony, 
 Claudio, in the most passionate language, proclaimed 
 the guilt of the blameless Hero, who, amazed at the 
 strange words he uttered, said meekly, " Is my lord 
 well, that he does speak so wide?"^ 290 
 
 Leonato, in the utmost horror, said to the prince, 
 "My lord, why speak not you?" "What should I 
 speak?" said the prince; "I stand dishonored, that 
 have gone about to link my dear friend to an un- 
 worthy woman. Leonato, upon my honor, myself, my 295 
 brother, and this grieved Claudio did see and hear 
 her last night at midnight talk with a man at her 
 chamber window." 
 
 * Wicked, See Notes. ^ Far from the truth. 
 
44 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Benedick, in astonishment at what he heard, said, 
 "This looks not like a nuptial." 300 
 
 "True, O God!" replied the heart-struck' Hero; and 
 then this hapless lady sunk down in a fainting-fit, to 
 all appearance dead. The prince and Claudio left the 
 church, without staying to see if Hero would recover, 
 or at all regarding the distress into which they had 305 
 thrown Leonato ; so hard-hearted had their anger made 
 them. 
 
 Benedick remained, and assisted Beatrice to recover 
 Hero from her swoon, saying, " How does the lady .'"' 
 "Dead, I think," replied Beatrice in great agony, for 31° 
 she loved her cousin ; and, knowing her virtuous prin- 
 ciples, she believed nothing of what she had heard 
 spoken against her. Not so the poor old father; he 
 believed the story of his child's shame, and it was pit- 
 eous to hear him lamenting over her, as she lay like 315 
 one dead before him, wishing she might never more 
 open her eyes. 
 
 But the ancient^ friar was a wise man and full of 
 observation on human nature, and he had attentively 
 marked the lady's countenance when she heard herself 320 
 accused, and noted a thousand blushing shames to start 
 into her face, and then he saw an angel-like whiteness 
 bear awray those blushes, and in her eye he saw a fire 
 that did belie the error that the prince did speak against 
 her maiden truth, and he said to the sorrowing father, 325 
 " Call me a fool ; trust not my reading nor my obser- 
 vation ; trust not my age, my reverence, nor my calling, 
 if this sweet lady lie not guiltless here under some 
 biting 3 error." 
 
 ^ Sorrow-stricken, overcome with sorrow. ^ Aged. 
 
 ^ Bitter, painful. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 45 
 
 When Hero recovered from the swoon into which she 330 
 had fallen, the friar said to her, " Lady, what man is he 
 you are accused of?" Hero replied, " They know that 
 do accuse me ; I know of none." Then, turning to Leo- 
 nato, she said, " O my father, if you can prove that any 
 man has ever conversed with me at hours unmeet,' or 33s 
 that I yesternight changed^ words with any creature, 
 refuse me, hate me, torture me to death !" 
 
 " There is," said the friar, " some strange misunder- 
 standing in the prince and Claudioj" and then he coun- 
 selled Leonato that he should report that Hero was 34° 
 dead, and he said that the death-like swoon in which 
 they had left Hero would make this easy of belief; and 
 he also advised him that he should put on mourning, 
 and erect a monument for her, and do all rights that 
 appertain^ to a burial. "What shall become^ of this?" 345 
 said Leonato; "what will this do?" The friar replied, 
 " This report of her death shall change slander into 
 pity: that is some good, but that is not all the good I 
 hope for. When Claudio shall hear she died upon 
 hearing his words, the idea^ of her life shall sweetly 350 
 creep into his imagination. Then shall he mourn, if 
 ever love had interest in his heart, and wish he had 
 not so accused her : yea, though he thought his accusa- 
 tion true." 
 
 Benedick now said, " Leonato, let the friar advise 355 
 you; and, though you know how well I love the prince 
 and Claudio, yet, on my honor, I will not reveal this 
 secret to them." 
 
 Leonato, thus persuaded, yielded ; and he said sor- 
 rowfully, "I am so grieved that the smallest twine may 360 
 
 ^ Improper. ^ Exchanged. ^ Belong. 
 
 * Come, be the result. * Image, thought. 
 
46 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES, 
 
 lead me." The kind friar then led Leonato and Hero 
 away to comfort and console them, and Beatrice and 
 Benedick remained alone ; and this was the meeting 
 from which their friends, who contrived the merry 
 plot against them, expected so much diversion — those 36s 
 friends who were now overwhelmed with affliction, and 
 from whose minds all thoughts of merriment seemed 
 forever banished. 
 
 Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said, " Lady 
 Beatrice, have you wept all this while?" "Yea, and I 370 
 will weep a while longer," said Beatrice. " Surely," said 
 Benedick, " I do believe your fair cousin is wronged." 
 " Ah !" said Beatrice, " how much might that man de- 
 serve of me who would right her !" Benedick then 
 said, " Is there any way to show such friendship ? 1 375 
 do love nothing in the world so well as you ; is not 
 that strange ?" " It were ' as possible," said Beatrice, 
 "for me to say I loved nothing in the world so well as 
 you; but believe me not, and yet I lie not. I confess 
 nothing, nor I deny nothing.^ I am sorry for my cous- 380 
 in." " By my sword," said Benedick, " you love me, 
 and I protest I love you. Come, bid me do any thing 
 for you." "Kill Claudio," said Beatrice. "Ha! not 
 for the wide world," said Benedick ; for he loved his 
 friend Claudio, and he believed he had been imposed s^s 
 upon. " Is not Claudio a villain, that has slandered, 
 scorned, and dishonored my cousin ?" said Beatrice: 
 " O that I were a man !" " Hear me, Beatrice !" said 
 Benedick. But Beatrice would hear nothing in Clau- 
 dio's defence; and she continued to urge on Benedick 390 
 to revenge her cousin's wrongs ; and she- said : " Talk 
 with a man out of the window! a proper^ saying! 
 
 * Would be. 2 See Notes. ^ Used ironically. See Notes. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 47 
 
 Sweet Hero ! she is wronged, she is slandered, she is 
 undone. O that I were a man for Claudio's sake ! or 
 that I had any friend who would be a man for my sake! 395 
 But valor is melted into courtesies and compliments. 
 I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a 
 woman with grieving." " Tarr}^, good Beatrice," said 
 Benedick : " by this hand, I love you !" " Use it for 
 my love some other way than swearing by it," said Be- 4°° 
 atrice. " Think you, on your soul, that Claudio has 
 wronged Hero ?" asked Benedick. " Yea," answered 
 Beatrice ; " as sure as I have a thought or a soul." 
 " Enough," said Benedick, "I am engaged/ I will chal- 
 lenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you. 405 
 By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account 1 
 As you hear from me, so think of me. Go, comfort 
 your cousin." 
 
 While Beatrice was thus powerfully pleading with 
 Benedick, and working his gallant temper, by the spirit 410 
 of her angry words, to engage in the cause of Hero, and 
 fight even with his dear friend Claudio, Leonato was 
 challenging the prince and Claudio to answer with 
 their swords the injury they had done his child, who, 
 he affirmed, had died for grief But they respected his 415 
 age and his sorrow, and they said, " Nay, do not quarrel 
 with us, good old man." And now came Benedick, and 
 he also challenged Claudio to answer with his sword 
 the injury he had done to Hero ; and Claudio' and the 
 prince said to each other, " Beatrice has set him on to 420 
 do this." Claudio, nevertheless, must have accepted 
 this challenge of Benedick, had not the justice of Heav- 
 en at the moment brought to pass a better proof of the 
 innocence of Hero than the uncertain fortunes of a duel. 
 * Pledged, bound (to do what you ask). 
 
48 TALES FROM SHAKESPEAKKS COMEDIES. 
 
 While the prince and Claudio were yet talking of the 42s 
 challenge of Benedick, a magistrate brought Borachio 
 as a prisoner before the prince. Borachio had been 
 overheard talking with one of his companions of the 
 mischief he had been employed by Don John to do. 
 
 Borachio made a full confession to the prince, in 430 
 Claudio's hearing, that it was Margaret, dressed in her 
 lady's clothes, that he had talked with from the window, 
 whom they had mistaken for the lady Hero herself; 
 and no doubt continued^ on the minds of Claudio and 
 the prince of the innocence of Hero. If a suspicion 435 
 had remained, it must have been removed by the flight 
 of Don John, who, finding his villainies were detected, 
 fled from Messina to avoid the just anger of his brother. 
 
 The heart of Claudio was sorely grieved when he 
 found he had falsely accused Hero, who, he thought, 440 
 died upon hearing his cruel words; and the memory of 
 his beloved Hero's image came over him in the rare 
 semblance^ that he loved it first; and, the prince ask- 
 ing him if what he heard did not run like iron through 
 his soul, he answered that he felt as if he had taken 445 
 poison while Borachio was speaking. 
 
 And the repentant Claudio implored forgiveness of 
 the old man Leonato for the injury he had done his 
 child ; and promised that, whatever penance Leonato 
 would lay upon him for his fault in believing the false 45c 
 accusation against his betrothed wife, for her dear sake 
 he would endure it. 
 
 The penance Leonato enjoined him was to marry the 
 next morning a cousin of Hero's, who, he said, was now 
 his heir and in person very like Hero. Claudio, regard- 455 
 ing the solemn promise he had made to Leonato, said 
 ' Remained. "^ Beautiful form, or appearance. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 49 
 
 he would marry this unknown lady, even though she 
 were an Ethiop;^ but his heart was very sorrowful, and 
 he passed that night in tears, and in remorseful grief, at 
 the tomb which Leonato had erected for Hero. 460 
 
 When the morning came, the prince accompanied 
 Claudio to the church, where the good friar, and Leo- 
 nato and his niece, were already assembled, to celebrate 
 a second nuptial ; and Leonato presented to Claudio his 
 promised bride \ and she wore a mask, that Claudio 465 
 might not discover her face. And Claudio said to the 
 lady in the mask, " Give me your hand, before this holy 
 friar ; I am your husband, if you will marry me." " And, 
 when I lived, I was your other wife," said this unknown 
 lady; and, taking off her mask, she proved to be no 470 
 niece (as was pretended), but Leonato's very daughter, 
 the lady Hero herself. We may be sure that this proved 
 a most agreeable surprise to Claudio, who thought her 
 dead, so that he could scarcely for joy believe his eyes ; 
 and the prince, who was equally amazed at what he saw, 475 
 exclaimed, " Is not this Hero, Hero that was dead ?" 
 Leonato replied, "She died, my lord, but^ while her 
 slander lived." The friar promised them an explana- 
 tion of this seeming miracle after .the ceremony was 
 ended, and was proceeding to marry them, when he 480 
 was interrupted by Benedick, who desired to be mar- 
 ried at the same time to Beatrice. Beatrice making 
 some demur ^ to this match, and Benedick challenging 
 her with her love for him, which he had learned from 
 Hero, a pleasant explanation took place; and they 485 
 found they had both been tricked into a belief of love 
 which had never existed, and had become lovers in . 
 truth by the power of a false jest. But the affection 
 ^ Ethiopian, negro. ^ Only. ^ Objection. 
 
 4 
 
50 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 which a merry invitation had cheated them into was 
 grown too powerful to be shaken by a serious expla- 490 
 nation ; and, since Benedick proposed to marry, he was 
 resolved to think nothing to the purpose that the world 
 could say against it ; and he merrily kept up the jest, 
 and swore to Beatrice that he took her but for pity, and 
 because he heard she was dying of love for him ; and 49s 
 Beatrice protested that she yielded but upon great per- 
 suasion, and partly to save his life, for she heard he was 
 in a consumption. So these two mad wits were recon- 
 ciled, and made a match of it, after Claudio and Hero 
 were married ; and, to complete the history, Don John, 500 
 the contriver of the villainy, was taken in his flight, and 
 brought back to Messina ; and a brave ^ punishment it 
 was to this gloomy, discontented man to see the joy 
 and feastings which, by the disappointment of his plots, 
 took place at the palace in Messina. 505 
 
 ^ Fine, fitting. 
 
THE FOREST OF ARDEN. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 During the time that France was divided into prov- 
 inces (or dukedoms, as they were called), there reigned 
 in one of these provinces a usurper,' who had deposed 
 and banished his elder brother, the lawful duke. 
 
 The duke who was thus driven from his dominions re- 5 
 tired with a few faithful followers to the forest of Arden ; 
 and here the good duke lived with his loving friends, 
 who had put themselves into a voluntary exile for his 
 sake, while their lands and revenues enriched the false 
 usurper ; and custom soon made the life of careless ease ro 
 they led here more sweet to them than the pomp and 
 ^ One who seizes power without right. 
 
52 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 uneasy splendor of a courtier's life. Here they lived 
 like the old Robin Hood^ of England, and to this forest 
 many noble youths daily resorted from the court, and did 
 fleet "^ the time carelessly, as they did who lived in the 15 
 Golden Age/ In the summer they lay along ^ under the 
 fine shade of the large forest trees, marking the playful 
 sports of the wild deer ; and so fond were they of these 
 poor dappled foolSj who seemed to be the native inhab- 
 itants of the forest, that it grieved them to be forced to 20 
 kill them to supply themselves with venison ^ for their 
 food. When the cold winds of winter made the duke 
 feel the change of his adverse fortune, he would endure 
 it patiently, and say : " These chilling winds which blow 
 upon my body are true counsellors ; they do not flatter, 25 
 but represent truly to me my condition, and, though 
 they bite sharply, their tooth is nothing like so keen as 
 that of unkindness and ingratitude. I find that, how- 
 soever men speak against adversity, yet some sweet 
 uses are to be extracted from it ; like the jewel, precious 3° 
 for medicine, which is taken from the head of the ven- 
 omous® and despised toad." In this manner did the 
 patient duke draw a useful moral from everything that 
 he saw; and, by the help of this moralizing^ turn, in 
 that life of his, remote from public haunts, he could 35 
 find "tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 sermons in stones, and good in everything." 
 
 The banished duke had an only daughter, named Ros- 
 alind,® whom the usurper, Duke Frederick, when he ban- 
 ished her father, still retained in his court as a compan-40 
 
 ' See Notes. ^ Cause to fly, or pass swiftly. 
 
 3 See Notes. * At full length. 
 
 ^ The flesh of the deer. * Poisonous. 
 
 ' Explaining in a moral sense. ^ Ros'-a-lind (s as in rose). 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. c^ 
 
 ion for his own daugiiter Celia.* A strict friendship sub- 
 sisted^ between these ladies, which the disagreement be- 
 tween their fathers did not in the least interrupt, Celia 
 striving by every kindness in her power to make amends 
 to Rosalind for the injustice of her own father in depos- 4S 
 ing the father of Rosalind ; and, whenever the thoughts 
 of her father's banishment and her own dependence on 
 the false usurper made Rosalind melancholy, Celia's 
 whole care was to comfort and console her. 
 
 One day when Celia was talking in her usual kind 50 
 manner to Rosalind, saying, " I pray you, Rosalind, my 
 sweet cousin, be merry," a messenger entered from the 
 duke to tell them that if they wished to see a wrestling- 
 match, which was just going to begin, they must come 
 instantly to the court before the palace ; and Celia, ss 
 thinking it would amuse Rosalind, agreed to go and 
 see it. 
 
 In those times wrestling, which is only practised now 
 by country clowns, was a favorite sport even in the 
 courts of princes, and before fair ladies and princesses. 60 
 To this wrestling-match, therefore, Celia and Rosalind 
 went. They found that it was likely to prove a very 
 tragical ^ sight ; for a large and powerful man, who had 
 long been practised in the art of wrestling and had 
 slain many men in contests of this kind, was just 65 
 going to wrestle with a very young man, who, from 
 his extreme youth and inexperience in the art, the 
 beholders all thought would certainly be killed. 
 
 When the duke saw Celia and Rosalind, he said : 
 " How now, daughter and niece, are you crept hither 70 
 to see the wrestling.? You will take -little delight in it, 
 
 » Ce'-li-a. ^ Existed. 
 
 ' Like a tragedy, ending in loss of life. 
 
54 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 there is such odds in the men. In pity to this young 
 man, I would wish to persuade him from wrestling. 
 Speak to him, ladies, and see if you can move him." 
 
 The ladies were well pleased to perform this humane 75 
 office, and first Celia entreated the young stranger that 
 he would desist from the attempt; and then Rosalind 
 spoke so kindly to him, and with such feeling consider- 
 ation for the danger he was about to undergo, that, in- 
 stead of being persuaded by her gentle words to forego so 
 his purpose, all his thoughts were bent to distinguish 
 himself by his courage in this lovely lady's eyes. He 
 refused the request of Celia and Rosalind in such grace- 
 ful and modest words that they felt still more concern 
 for him, he concluding his refusal with saying: "I am 85 
 sorry to deny such fair and excellent ladies anything. 
 But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to 
 my trial, wherein, if I be conquered, there is one shamed 
 that was never gracious ; Mf I am killed, there is one 
 dead that is willing to die. I shall do my friends no 9° 
 wrong, for I have none to lament me ; the world no in- 
 jury, for in it I have nothing ; for I only fill up a place 
 in the world which may be better supplied when I have 
 made it empty." 
 
 And now the wrestling- match began. Celia wished 95 
 the young stranger might not be hurt ; but Rosalind felt 
 most for him. The friendless state which he said he 
 was in, and that he wished to die, made Rosalind think 
 that he was, like herself, unfortunate ; and she pitied 
 him so much, and so deep an interest she took in his ico 
 danger while he was wrestling, that she might almost be 
 said at that monaent to have fallen in love with him. 
 
 The kindness shown this unknown youth by these 
 ^ Fortunate. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 55 
 
 fair and noble ladies gave him courage and strength, so 
 that he performed wonders and in the end completely 105 
 conquered his antagonist, who was so much hurt that 
 for a while he was unable to speak or move. 
 
 The Duke Frederick was much pleased with the 
 courage and skill shown by this young stranger, and 
 desired to know his name and parentage, meaning to no 
 take him under his protection. 
 
 The stranger said his name was Orlando, and that he 
 was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.^ 
 
 Sir Rowland de Boys, the father of Orlando, had been 
 dead some years, but when he was living he had been 115 
 a true subject and dear friend of the banished duke ; 
 therefore, when Frederick heard Orlando was the son of 
 his banished brothers friend, all his liking for this brave 
 young man was changed into displeasure, and he left the 
 place in very ill humor. Hating to hear the very name 120 
 of any of his brother's friends, and yet still admiring the 
 valor of the youth, he said, as he went out, that he 
 wished Orlando had been the son of any other man. 
 
 Rosalind was delighted to hear that her new favorite 
 was the son of her father's old friend ; and she said to 125 
 Celia, " My father loved Sir Rowland de Boys, and, if I 
 had known this young man was his son, I would have 
 added tears to my entreaties before he should have 
 ventured." 
 
 The ladies then went up to him ; and, seeing him 130 
 abashed by the sudden displeasure shown by the duke, 
 they spoke kind and encouraging words to him ; and 
 Rosalind, when they were going away, turned back to 
 speak some more civil things to the brave young son of 
 her father's old friend ; and, taking a chain from off her 135 
 ^ Bois {s as in this). See Notes. 
 
56 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 neck, she said, "Gentleman, wear this for me. I am out 
 of suits ' with fortune, or I would give you a more valu- 
 able present." 
 
 When the ladies were alone, Rosalind's talk being 
 still of Orlando, Celia began to perceive her cousin had ho 
 fallen in love with the handsome young wrestler, and 
 she said to Rosalind, "Is it possible you should fall 
 in love so suddenly?" Rosalind replied, "The duke 
 my father loved his father dearly." "Bui," said Celia, 
 " does it therefore follow that you should love his son 145 
 dearly ? for then I ought to hate him, for my father 
 hated his father j yet I do not hate Orlando." 
 
 Frederick being enraged at the sight of Sir Rowland 
 de Boys's son, which reminded him of the many friends 
 the banished duke had among the nobility, and having 150 
 been for some time displeased with his niece, because 
 the people praised her for her virtues and pitied her for 
 her good father's sake, his malice suddenly broke out 
 against her ; and, while Celia and Rosalind were talking 
 of Orlando, Frederick entered the room, and with looks 155 
 full of anger ordered Rosalind instantly to leave the 
 palace and follow her father into banishment; telling 
 Celia, who in vain pleaded for her, that he had only 
 suffered Rosalind to stay upon her account. " I did 
 not then," said Celia, "entreat you to let her stay, for 1 160 
 was too young at that time to value her; but, now that 
 I know her worth, and that we so long have slept 
 together, rose at the same instant, learned, played, and 
 ate together, I cannot live out of her company." Fred- 
 erick replied : " She is too subtle for you ; her smooth- 165 
 ness, her silence, and her patience speak to the people, 
 and they pity her. You are a fool to plead for her, for 
 
 ^ Out of favor. 
 
AS VOW LIKE IT. 
 
 57 
 
 you will seem more bright and virtuous when she is 
 gone ; therefore open not your lips in her favor, for the 
 doom which I have passed upon her is irrevocable." ^ 170 
 
 When Celia found she could not prevail upon her 
 father to let Rosalind remain with her, she generously 
 resolved to accompany her; and, leaving her father's 
 palace that night, she went along with her friend to 
 seek Rosalind's father, the banished duke, in the for- 175 
 est of Arden. 
 
 Before they set out, Celia considered that it would be 
 unsafe for two young ladies to travel in the rich clothes 
 they then wore; she therefore proposed that they should 
 disguise their rank by dressing themselves like country iGo 
 maids. Rosalind said it would be a still greater protec- 
 tion if one of them was to be dressed like a man ; and 
 so it was quickly agreed on between them that, as Ros- 
 alind was the tallest, she should wear the dress of a 
 young countryman, and Celia should be habited ^ like a 185 
 country lass, and that they should say they were brother 
 and sister ; and Rosalind said she w^ould be called Gani- 
 med,^ and Celia chose the name of Aliena.* 
 
 In this disguise, and taking their money and jewels to 
 defray their expenses, these fair princesses set out on their 19° 
 long travel ; for the forest of Arden was a long way off, 
 beyond the boundaries of the duke's dominions. 
 
 The lady Rosalind (or Ganimed, as she must now be 
 called), with her manly garb, seemed to have put on a 
 manly courage. The faithful friendship Celia had shown 195 
 in accompanying Rosalind so many weary miles made 
 the new brother, in recompense for this true love, exert 
 a cheerful spirit, as if he were indeed Ganimed, the 
 
 ' Not to be revoked or changed. ^ Dressed. 
 
 " Gan'-i-med. "^ A-lI-e'-na. 
 
58 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 rustic and stout-hearted brother of the gentle village 
 maiden, Aliena. 2cxj 
 
 When at last they came to the forest of Arden, they 
 no longer found the convenient inns and good accommo- 
 dations they had met with on the road ; and being in 
 want of food and rest, Ganimed, who had so merrily 
 cheered his sister with pleasant speeches and happy re- 205 
 marks all the way, now owned to Aliena that he was so 
 weary he could find in his heart to disgrace his man's 
 apparel and cry like a woman ; and Aliena declared 
 she could go no farther ; and then again Ganimed tried 
 to recollect that it was a man's duty to comfort and 210 
 console a woman, as the weaker vessel;' and, to seem 
 courageous to his new sister, he said, " Come, have a 
 good heart, my sister Aliena ; we are now at the end of 
 our travel, in the forest of Arden." But feigned manli- 
 ness and forced courage would no longer support them ; 215 
 for, though they were in the forest of Arden,' they knew 
 not where to find the duke ; and here the travel of these 
 weary ladies might have come to a sad conclusion, for 
 they might have lost themselves and have perished for 
 want of food ; but providentially, as they were sitting on 220 
 the grass almost dying with fatigue and hopeless of any 
 relief, a countryman chanced to pass that way, and Gani- 
 med once more tried to speak with a manly boldness, 
 saying, "Shepherd, if love or gold can in this desert 
 place procure us entertainment, I pray you bring us 225' 
 where we may rest ourselves; for this young maid, my 
 sister, is much fatigued with travelling, and faints for 
 want of food." 
 
 The man replied that he was only a servant to a shep- 
 herd, and that his master's house was just going to be 230 
 ^ Person. See i Peter, iii. 7. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 59 
 
 sold, and therefore they would find but poor entertain- 
 ment; but that, if they would go with him, they should 
 be welcome to what there was. They followed the man, 
 the near prospect of relief giving them fresh strength, 
 and bought the house and sheep of the shepherd, and 235 
 took the man who conducted them to the shepherd's 
 house to wait on them ; and being by this means so 
 fortunately provided with a neat cottage, and well sup- 
 plied with provisions, they agreed to stay here till they 
 could learn in what part of the forest the duke dwelt. 240 
 
 When they were rested after the fatigue of their 
 journey, they began to like their new way of life, and 
 almost fancied themselves the shepherd and shepherd- 
 ess they feigned to be ; yet sometimes Ganimed remem- 
 bered he had once been the same lady Rosalind who 243 
 had so dearly loved the brave Orlando, because he was 
 the son of old Sir Rowland, her father's friend, and 
 though Ganimed thought that Orlando was many miles 
 distant, even so many weary miles as they had travelled, 
 yet it soon appeared that Orlando was also in the for- 250 
 est of Arden ; and in this manner this strange event 
 came to pass : 
 
 Orlando was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de 
 Boys, who, when he died, left him (Orlando being then 
 very young) to the care of his eldest brother Oliver, 255 
 charging Oliver on his blessing to give his brother a 
 good education, and provide for him as became the 
 dignity of their ancient house.' Oliver proved an un- 
 worthy brother; and, disregarding the commands of his 
 dying father, he never put his brother to school, but 260 
 kept him at home untaught and entirely neglected. But 
 in his nature and in the noble qualities of. his mind 
 
 ^ Family. 
 
6o TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES. 
 
 Orlando so much resembled his excellent father that, 
 without any advantages of education, he seemed like a 
 youth who had been bred with the utmost care; and 265 
 Oliver so envied the fine person and dignified manners 
 of his untutored ^ brother, that at last he wished to de- 
 stroy him; and to effect this he set on people to per- 
 suade him to wTestle with the famous wrestler, who, as 
 has been before related, had killed so many men. Now 270 
 it was this cruel brother's neglect of him which made 
 Orlando say he wished to die, being so friendless. 
 
 When, contrary to the wicked hopes he had formed, . 
 his brother proved victorious, his envy and malice knew 
 no bounds, and he swore he would burn the chamber 275 
 where Orlando slept. He was overheard making this 
 vow by one that had been an old and faithful servant 
 to their father, and that loved Orlando because he re- 
 sembled Sir Rowland. This old man went out to meet 
 him when he returned from the duke's palace, and, when 280 
 he saw Orlando, the peril his dear young master was in 
 made him break out into these passionate exclamations : 
 "O my gentle master, my sweet master! O you memory 
 of old Sir Rowland ! why are you virtuous ? why are 
 you gentle, strong, and valiant ? and why would you 285 
 be so fond^ to^ overcome the famous wrestler.? Your 
 praise is come too swiftly home before you." Orlando, 
 wondering what all this meant, asked him what was the 
 matter ? And then the old man told him how his wick- 
 ed brother, envying the love all people bore him, and 290 
 now hearing the fame he had gained by his victory in 
 the duke's palace, intended to destroy him, by setting 
 fire to his chamber that night, and, in conclusion, ad- 
 vised him to escape the danger he was in by instant 
 1 Untaught. ^ Foolish. ^ ^g to. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 6i 
 
 flight; and, knowing Orlando had no money, Adam (for 295 
 that was the good old man's name) had brought out 
 with him his own little hoard, and he said : " I have five 
 hundred crowns, the thrifty hire I saved under your 
 father and laid by to be provision for me when my old 
 limbs should become unfit for service ; take that, and 300 
 He that doth the ravens^ feed be comfort to my age! 
 Here is the gold ; all this I give to you : let me be your 
 servant; though I look old, I will do the service of a 
 younger man in all your business and necessities." "O 
 good old man !" said Orlando, " how well appears in 305 
 you the constant^ service of the old world! You are 
 not for the fashion of these times. We will go along 
 together, and before your youthful wages are spent I 
 shall light upon some means for both our maintenance." 
 
 Together, then, this faithful servant and his loved s^o 
 master set out; and Orlando and Adam travelled on, 
 uncertain what course to pursue, till they came to the 
 forest of Arden, and there they found themselves in the 
 same distress for want of food that Ganimed and Aliena 
 had been. They wandered on, seeking some human 315 
 habitation, till they were almost spent ^ with hunger and 
 fatigue. Adam at last said, "O my dear master, I die 
 for want of food ; I can go no farther !" He then laid 
 himself down, thinking to make that place his grave, 
 and bid his dear master farewell. Orlando, seeing him 320 
 in this weak state, took his old servant up in his arms, 
 and carried him under the shelter of some pleasant 
 trees ; and he said to him, " Cheerly,* old Adam, rest 
 your weary limbs here a while, and do not talk of dy- 
 ing !" 32s 
 
 ^ See Ltike, xii. 24. ^ Faithful. ^ Worn out, exhausted. 
 
 * Cheerfully ; that is, be cheerful or hopeful. 
 
62 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES. 
 
 Orlando then searched about to find some food, and 
 he happened to arrive at that part of the forest where 
 the duke was ; and he and his friends were just going 
 to eat their dinner, this royal duke being seated on the 
 grass, under no other canopy ' than the shady covert of 330 
 some large trees. 
 
 Orlando, whom hunger had made desperate,'^ drew 
 his sword, intending to take their meat by force, and 
 said, " Forbear, and eat no more ; I must have your 
 food !" The duke asked him if distress had made him 335 
 S0-bold, or if he were a rude despiser of good manners. 
 On this Orlando said he was dying with hunger; and 
 then the duke told him he was welcome to sit down and 
 eat with them. Orlando, hearing him speak so gently, 
 put up his sword, and blushed with shame at the rude 34° 
 manner in which he had demanded their food. " Par- 
 don me, I pray you," said he; " I thought that all things 
 had been savage here, and therefore I put on the coun- 
 tenance^ of stern command; but whatever men you 
 are that in this desert, under the shade of melancholy 345 
 boughs, lose and neglect the creeping hours of time, if 
 ever you have looked on better days, if ever )^ou have 
 been where bells have knolled * to church, if you have 
 ever sat at any good man's feast, if ever from your 
 eyelids you have wiped a tear, and know what it is to 350 
 pity or be pitied, may gentle speeches now move you 
 to do me human courtesy!" The duke replied, "True 
 it is that we are men (as you say) who have seen better 
 days, and, though we have now our habitation in this 
 wild forest, we have lived in towns and cities, and have 355 
 with holy bell been knolled to church, have sat at good 
 
 ^ Covering ; like covert. - Reckless. 
 
 ^ Face, look. ■* Rung. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 63 
 
 
 
 ORLANDO AND ADAM. 
 
 men's feasts, and from our eyes have wiped the drops 
 which sacred pity has engendered ; ^ therefore sit you 
 down; and take of our refreshment as much as will min- 
 ister to your wants." " There is an old poor man," 360 
 answered Orlando, "who has limped after me many a 
 weary step in pure love, oppressed at once with two sad 
 infirmities, age and hunger ; till he be satisfied, I must 
 not touch a bit." "Go, find him out, and bring him 
 hither," said the duke ; " we will forbear to eat till you 365 
 ^ Caused, called forth. 
 
64 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 return." Then Orlando went like a doe to find its fawn 
 and give it food, and presently returned, bringing Adam 
 in his arms; and the duke said, '' Set down your vener- 
 able burden; you are both welcome;" and they fed the 
 old man, and cheered his heart, and he revived, and 37° 
 recovered his health and strength again. 
 
 The duke inquired who Orlando was, and when he 
 found that he was the son of his old friend. Sir Row- 
 land de Boys, he took him under his protection, and 
 Orlando and his old servant lived with the duke in the 375 
 forest. 
 
 Orlando arrived in the forest not many days after 
 Ganimed and Aliena came there and (as has been be- 
 fore related) bought the shepherd's cottage. 
 
 Ganimed and Aliena were strangely surprised to find 380 
 the name of Rosalind carved on the trees, and love- 
 sonnets fastened to them, all addressed to Rosalind; 
 and while they were wondering how this could be they 
 met Orlando, and they perceived the chain which Rosa- 
 lind had given him about his neck. 385 
 
 Orlando little thought that Ganimed was the fair 
 princess Rosalind, who by her noble condescension and 
 favor had so won his heart that he passed his whole 
 time in carving her name upon the trees, and writing 
 sonnets in praise of her beauty; but being much pleased 390 
 with the graceful air of this pretty shepherd youth, he 
 entered into conversation with him, and he thought he 
 saw a likeness in Ganimed to his beloved Rosalind, 
 but that he had none of the dignified deportment of 
 that noble lady; for Ganimed assumed the forward 395 
 manners often seen in youths when they are between 
 boys and men, and with much archness and humor 
 talked to Orlando of a certain lover, "who," said he, 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 65 
 
 "haunts our forest, and spoils our young trees with 
 carving Rosalind upon their barks ; and he hangs odes 400 
 upon hawthorns and elegies ' on brambles, all praising 
 this same Rosalind. If I could find this lover, I, would 
 give him some good counsel that would soon cure him 
 of his love." 
 
 Orlando confessed that he was the fond lover of 405 
 whom he spoke, and asked Ganimed to give him the 
 good counsel he talked of The remedy Ganimed pro- 
 posed, and the counsel he gave him, was that Orlando 
 should come every day to the cottage where he and his 
 sister Aliena dwelt ; " And then," said Ganimed, " 1 410 
 will feign myself to be Rosalind, and you shall feign 
 to court me in the same manner as you would do if 
 I was Rosalind, and then I will imitate the fantastic^ 
 ways of whimsical ladies to their lovers, till I make 
 you ashamed of your love ; and this is the way I pro- 4^5 
 pose to cure you." Orlando had no great faith in the 
 remedy, yet he agreed to come every day to Gani- 
 med's cottage and feign a playful courtship; and every 
 day Orlando visited Ganimed and Aliena, and Orlando 
 called the shepherd Ganimed his Rosalind, and every 420 
 day talked over all the fine words and flattering com- 
 pliments which young men delight to use when they 
 court their mistresses. It does not appear, however, 
 that Ganimed made any progress in curing Orlando 
 of his love for Rosalind. 42s 
 
 Though Orlando thought all this was but a sportive 
 play (not dreaming that Ganimed was his very^ Rosa- 
 lind), yet the opportunity it gave him of saying all the 
 fond things he had in his heart pleased his fancy 
 almost as well as it did Ganimed's, who enjoyed the 430 
 
 ^ Like odes, a kind of poem. " Odd, fanciful. ^ Tiuc. 
 
 5 
 
66 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 secret jest in knowing those fine love-speeches were all 
 addressed to the right person. 
 
 In this manner many days passed pleasantly on with 
 these .young people; and the good-natured Aliena, see- 
 ing it made Ganimed happy, let him have his own way, 435 
 and was diverted at the mock courtship, and did not 
 care to remind Ganimed that the lady Rosalind had 
 not yet made herself known to the duke her father, 
 whose place of resort in the forest they had learned 
 from Orlando. Ganimed met the duke one day, and 440 
 had some talk with him, and the duke asked of what 
 parentage he came; Ganimed answered that he came 
 of as good parentage as he did, which made the duke 
 smile, for he did not suspect the pretty shepherd-boy 
 came of royal lineage.^ Then seeing the duke look 445 
 well and happy, Ganimed was content to put off all 
 further explanation for a few days longer. 
 
 One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganimed, 
 he saw a man lying asleep on the ground, and a large 
 green snake had twisted itself about his neck. The 450 
 snake, seeing Orlando approach, glided away among the 
 bushes. Orlando went nearer, and then he discovered 
 a lioness lie crouching, with her head on the ground, 
 with a catlike watch, waiting till the sleeping man 
 awaked; for it is said that lions will prey on nothing 455 
 that is dead or sleeping. It seems as if Orlando was 
 sent by Providence to free the man from the danger of 
 the snake and the lioness ; but when Orlando looked in 
 the man's face, he perceived that the sleeper, who was 
 exposed to this double peril, was his own brother Oli-460 
 ver, who had so cruelly used him and had threatened 
 to destroy him by fire ; and he was almost tempted to 
 
 ^ Family, race. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 57 
 
 
 OLIVER ASLEEP IN THE FOREST. 
 
 leave him a prey to the hungry lioness. But brotherly 
 affection and the gentleness of his nature soon over- 
 came his first anger against his brother ; and he drew 46s 
 his sword and attacked the lioness and slew her, and 
 thus preserved his brother's life both from the ven- 
 omous snake and from the furious lioness ; but before 
 Orlando could conquer the lioness she had torn one 47° 
 of his arms with her sharp claws. 
 
68 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 While Orlando was engaged with the lioness Oliver 
 awoke, and, perceiving that his brother Orlando, whom 
 he had so cruelly treated, was saving him from the fury 
 of a wild beast at the risk of his own life, shame and 
 remorse at once seized him, and he repented of his un- 475 
 worthy conduct, and besought with many tears his broth- 
 er's pardon for the injuries he had done him. Orlando 
 rejoiced to see him so penitent, and readily forgave him ; 
 they embraced each other, and from that hour Oliver 
 loved Orlando with a truly brotherly affection, though 480 
 he had come to the forest bent on his destruction. 
 
 The wound in Orlando's arm having bled very much, 
 he found himself too weak to go to visit Ganimed,«and 
 therefore he desired his brother to go and tell Ganimed, 
 " whom," said Orlando, " I in sport do call my Rosalind," 48s 
 the accident which had befallen him. 
 
 Thither then Oliver went, and told to Ganimed and 
 Aliena how Orlando had saved his life ; and, when he 
 had finished the story of Orlando's bravery and his own 
 providential escape, he owned to them that he was Or- 49° 
 lando's brother, who had so cruelly used him ; and then 
 he told them of their reconciliation. 
 
 The sincere sorrow that Oliver expressed for his of- 
 fences made such a lively impression on the kind heart 
 of Aliena that she instantly fell in love with him; and 495 
 Oliver observing how much she pitied the distress he 
 told her he felt for his fault, he as suddenly fell in love 
 with her. But while love was thus stealing into the 
 hearts of Aliena and Oliver, he was no less busy with 
 Ganimed, who, hearing of the danger Orlando had been 500 
 in, and that he was wounded by the lioness, fainted ; 
 and when he recovered he pretended that he had coun- 
 terfeited the swoon in the imaginary character of Rosa- 
 
AS VOCr LIKE IT. 69 
 
 Jind, and Ganimed said to Oliver, "Tell your brother 
 Orlando how well I countefeited a swoon." But Oli- sos 
 ver saw by the paleness of his complexion that he did 
 really faint, and, much wondering at the weakness of 
 the young man, he said, " Well, if you did counterfeit,- 
 take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man." "So 
 I do," replied Ganimed (truly), "but I should have been 510 
 a womau by right." 
 
 Oliver made this visit a very long one, and when at 
 last he returned back to his brother he had much news 
 to tell him ; for, besides the account of Ganimed's faint- 
 ing at the hearing that Orlando was wounded, Oliver 515 
 told him how he had fallen in love with the fair shep- 
 herdess Aliena, and that she had lent a favorable ear 
 to his suit, even in this their first interview ; and he 
 talked to his brother, as of a thing almost settled, that 
 he should marry Aliena, saying that he so well loved 520 
 her that he would live here as a shepherd, and settle 
 his estate and house at home upon Orlando. 
 
 " You have my consent," said Orlando. " Let your 
 wedding be to-morrow, and I will invite the duke and 
 his friends. Go and persuade your shepherdess to 525 
 agree to this; she is now alone, for look, here comes 
 her brother." Oliver went to Aliena; and Ganimed, 
 whom Orlando had perceived approaching, came to in- 
 quire after the health of his wounded friend. 
 
 When Orlando and Ganimed began to talk over the 53° 
 sudden love which had taken place between Oliver and 
 Aliena, Orlando said he had advised his brother to per- 
 suade his fair shepherdess to be married on the mor- 
 row, and then he added how much he could wish to be 
 married on the same day to his Rosalind. 535 
 
 Ganimed, who well approved of this arrangement, said 
 
70 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 that if Orlando really loved Rosalind as well as he pro- 
 fessed to do, he should have his wish ; for on the mor- 
 row he would engage to make Rosalind appear in her 
 own person, and also that Rosalind should be willing 540 
 to marry Orlando. 
 
 This seemingly wonderful event, which, as Ganimed 
 was the lady Rosalind, he could so easily perform, he 
 pretended he would bring to pass by the aid of magic, 
 which he said he had learned of an uncle, who was a 545 
 famous magician. 
 
 The fond lover Orlando, half believing and half 
 doubting what he heard, asked Ganimed if he spoke in 
 sober meaning. "By my life I do," said Ganimed j 
 " therefore put on your best clothes, and bid the duke 55° 
 and your friends to your wedding ; for if you desire to 
 be married to-morrow to Rosalind, she shall be here." 
 
 The next morning, Oliver having obtained the consent 
 of Aliena, they came into the presence of the duke, and 
 with them also came Orlando. 555 
 
 They being all assembled to celebrate this double 
 marriage, and as yet only one of the brides appearing, 
 there was much of wondering and conjecture ; but they 
 mostly thought that Ganimed was making a jest of 
 Orlando. 560 
 
 The duke, hearing that it was his own daughter that 
 was to be brought in this strange way, asked Orlando if 
 he believed the shepherd-boy could really do what he 
 had promised ; and while Orlando was answering that 
 he knew not what to think Ganimed entered, and asked ses 
 the duke, if he brought his daughter, whether he vvould 
 consent to her marriage with Orlando. "That I would," 
 said the duke, " if I had kingdoms to give with her." 
 Ganimed then said to Orlando, " And you say you will 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 7f 
 
 marry her if I bring her here?" "That I would," said 570 
 Orlando, " if I were king of many kingdoms." 
 
 Ganimed and Aliena then went out together, and 
 Ganimed, throwing off his male attire and being once 
 more dressed in woman's apparel, quickly became Rosa- 
 lind without the power of magic ; and Aliena, changing 575 
 her country garb for her own rich clothes, was, with as 
 little trouble, transformed into the lady Celia. 
 
 While they were gone, the duke said to Orlando that 
 he thought the shepherd very like his daughter Rosa- 
 lind j and Orlando said he also had observed the re- 580 
 semblance. 
 
 They had no time to wonder how all this would end, 
 for Rosalind and Celia, in their own clothes, entered ; 
 and, no longer pretending that it was by the power of 
 magic that she came there, Rosalind threw herself on 585 
 her knees before her father and begged his blessing. It 
 seemed so wonderful to all present that she should so 
 suddenly appear, that it might well have passed for 
 magic j but Rosalind would no longer trifle with her 
 father, and told him the story of her banishment, and 59° 
 of her dwelling in the forest as a shepherd -boy, her 
 cousin Celia passing as her sister. 
 
 The duke ratified ' the consent he had already given 
 to the marriage; and Orlando and Rosalind, Oliver and 
 Celia, were married at the same time. And though their 595 
 wedding could not be celebrated in this wild forest with 
 any of the parade or splendor usual on such occasions, 
 yet a happier wedding-day was never passed ; and while 
 they were eating their venison under the cool shade of 
 the pleasant trees, as if nothing should be wanting to 600 
 complete the felicity of this good duke and the true 
 
 ' Confirmed. 
 
72 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 lovers, an unexpected messenger arrived to tell the 
 duke the joyful news that his dukedom was restored 
 to him. 
 
 The usurper, enraged at the flight of his daughter 605 
 Celia, and hearing that every day men of great worth 
 resorted to the forest of Arden to join the lawful duke 
 in his exile, much envying that his brother should be so 
 highly respected in his adversity, put himself at the head 
 of a large force and advanced towards the forest, in- 610 
 tending to seize his brother and put him, with all his 
 faithful followers, to the sword; but, by a wonderful in- 
 terposition ^ of Providence, this bad brother was con- 
 verted from his evil intention; for just as he entered the 
 skirts of the wild forest he was met by an old religious 615 
 man, a hermit, with whom he had much talk, and who, 
 in the end, completely turned his heart from his wicked 
 design. Thenceforward he became a true penitent, and 
 resolved, relinquishing^ his unjust dominion, to spend 
 the remainder of his days in a religious house. The 620 
 first act of his newly conceived penitence was to send a 
 messenger to his brother (as has been related), to offer 
 to restore to him his dukedom, which he had usurped so 
 long, and vi^ith it the lands and revenues of his friends, 
 the faithful followers of his adversity. 625 
 
 This joyful news, as unexpected as it was welcome, 
 came opportunely ^ to heighten the festivity and rejoic- 
 ings at the weddings of the princesses. Celia compli- 
 mented her cousin on this good fortune which had hap- 
 pened to the duke, Rosalind's father, and wished her 630 
 joy very sincerely, though she herself was no longer 
 heir to the dukedom, but, by this restoration which 
 
 ^ Intervention (literally, coming between). ^ Giving up. 
 
 ^ Just in time. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 73 
 
 her father had made, Rosalind was now the heir; so 
 completely was the love of these two cousins unmixed 
 with anything of jealousy or envy. 635 
 
 The duke had now an opportunity of rewarding those 
 true friends who had stayed with him in his banishment; 
 and these worthy followers, though they had patiently 
 shared his adverse fortune, were very well pleased to re- 
 turn in peace and prosperity to the palace of their 640 
 lawful duke. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 There lived in the city of Verona ' two young gen- 
 tlemen, whose names were Valentine and Proteus,^ be- 
 tween whom a firm and uninterrupted friendship had 
 long subsisted/ They pursued their studies together, 
 and their hours of leisure were always passed in 5 
 each other's company, except when Proteus visited a 
 lady he was in love with ; and these visits to his mis- 
 tress, and this passion of Proteus for the fair Julia, were 
 the only topics on which these two friends disagreed ; 
 for Valentine, not being himself a lover, was sometimes ro 
 a little weary of hearing his friend forever talking of his 
 Julia, and then he would laugh at Proteus, and in pleas- 
 
 * Ve-ro'-na. ^ Pro'-te-us. ^ Existed. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 75 
 
 ant terms ridicule the passion of love, and declare that 
 no such idle fancies should ever enter his head, greatly 
 preferring (as he said) the free and happy life he led to 15 
 the anxious hopes and fears of the lover Proteus. 
 
 One morning Valentine came to Proteus to tell him 
 that they must for a time be separated, for that he was 
 going to Milan. ^ Proteus, unwilling to part with his 
 friend, used many arguments to prevail upon Valentine 20 
 not to leave him \ but Valentine said : " Cease to per- 
 suade me, my loving Proteus. I will not, like a slug- 
 gard, wear out my youth in idleness at home. Home- 
 keeping youths have ever homely wits. If your affec- 
 tion were not chained to the sweet glances of your hon-25 
 ored Julia, I would entreat you to accompany me to see 
 the wonders of the world abroad ; but, since you are a 
 lover, love on still, and may your love be prosperous !" 
 
 They parted with mutual expressions of unalterable 
 friendship. "Sweet Valentine, adieu!" said Proteus; 30 
 " think on me when you see some rare object worthy 
 of notice in your travels, and wish me partaker of your 
 happiness." 
 
 Valentine began his journey that same day toward 
 Milan; and when his friend had left him Proteus sat 35 
 down to write a letter to Julia, which he gave to her 
 maid Lucetta^ to deliver to her mistress. 
 
 Julia loved Proteus as well as he did her, but she 
 was a lady of a noble spirit, and she thought it did 
 not become her maiden dignity too easily to be won; 40 
 therefore she affected to be insensible of his passion, 
 and gave him much uneasiness in the prosecution ^ of 
 his suit. 
 
 And when Lucetta offered the letter to Julia, she 
 ^ Mil'-an. ^ Lu-cet'-ta, ^ Carrying out. 
 
76 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE' S COMEDIES. 
 
 would not receive it, and chid her maid for taking let- 45 
 ters from Proteus and ordered her to leave the room. 
 But she so much wished to see what was written in the 
 letter that she soon called in her maid again, and when 
 Lucetta returned she said, " What o'clock is it ?" Lu- 
 cetta, who knew her mistress more desired to see the 50 
 letter than to know the time of day, without answering 
 her question, again offered the rejected letter. Julia, 
 angry that her maid should thus take the liberty of 
 seeming to know what she really wanted, tore the letter 
 in pieces and threw it on the floor, ordering her maidss 
 once more out of the room. As Lucetta was retiring, 
 she stopped to pick up the fragments of the torn letter; 
 but Julia, who meant not so to part with them, said, in 
 pretended anger, " Go, get you gone, and let the papers 
 lie ; you would be fingering them to anger me." 60 
 
 Julia then began to piece together as well as she 
 could the torn fragments. She first made out these 
 words, " Love-wounded Proteus ;" and lamenting over 
 these and such-like loving words, which she made out, 
 though they were all torn asunder, or, she said, wounded 65 
 (the expression " Love-wounded Proteus " giving her 
 that idea), she talked to these kind words, telling them 
 she would lodge them in her bosom, as in a bed, till 
 their wounds were healed, and that she would kiss each 
 several ^ piece to make amends. 7° 
 
 In this manner she went on, talking with a pretty 
 ladylike childishness, till, finding herself unable to make 
 out the whole, and vexed at her own ingratitude in de- 
 stroying such sweet and loving words, as she called 
 them, she wrote a much kinder letter to Proteus than 75 
 she had ever done before. 
 
 ' Separate. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 77 
 
 Proteus was greatly delighted at receiving this favor- 
 able answer to his letter; and while he was reading it 
 he exclaimed, " Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life !" 
 In the midst of his raptures he was interrupted by his 80 
 father. " How now !" said the old gentleman j " what 
 letter are you reading there ?" 
 
 " My lord," replied Proteus, " it is a letter from my 
 friend Valentine, at Milan." 
 
 "Lend me the letter," said his father; "let me see 85 
 what news." 
 
 "There are no news, my lord," said Proteus, greatly 
 alarmed, " but that he writes how well beloved he is of 
 the Duke of Milan, who daily graces him with favors; 
 and how he wishes me with him, the partner of his 90 
 fortune." 
 
 " And how stand you affected ^ to his wish V asked 
 the father. 
 
 "As one relying on your lordship's will, and not de- 
 pending on his friendly wish," said Proteus. 95 
 
 Now it had happened that Proteus's father had just 
 been talking with a friend on this very subject : his 
 friend had said he wondered his lordship suffered his 
 son to spend his youth at home, while most men were 
 sending their sons to seek preferment abroad ; "some," 100 
 said he, " to the wars, to try their fortunes there, and 
 some to discover islands far away, and some to study in 
 foreign universities ; and there is his companion Val- 
 entine, he is gone to the Duke of Milan's court. Your 
 son is fit for any of these things, and it will be a great 105 
 disadvantage to him in his riper age not to have trav- 
 elled in his youth." 
 
 Proteus's father thought the advice of his friend was 
 ^ Inclined, disposed. 
 
78 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 very good, and upon Proteus telling him that Valentine 
 "wished him with him, the partner of his fortune," he no 
 at once determined to send his son to Milan ; and with- 
 out giving Proteus any reason for this sudden resolution 
 — it being the usual habit of this positive old gentleman 
 to command his son, not reason with him — he said, 
 "My will is the same as Valentine's wish;" and, seeing 115 
 his son look astonished, he added, " Look not amazed 
 that I so suddenly resolve you shall spend some time 
 in the Duke of Milan's court ; for what I will I will, 
 and there is an end. To-morrow be in readiness to go. 
 Make no excuses ; for I am peremptory." ^ 120 
 
 Proteus knew it was of no use to make objections to 
 his father, who never suffered him to dispute his will \ 
 and he blamed himself for telling his father an untruth 
 about Julia's letter, which had brought upon him the 
 sad necessity of leaving her. 125 
 
 Now that Julia found she was going to lose Proteus 
 for so long a time, she no longer pretended indiffer- 
 ence; and they bid each other a mournful farewell with* 
 many vows of love and constancy.^ Proteus and Julia 
 exchanged rings, which they both promised to keep 130 
 forever in remembrance of each other; and thus, taking 
 a sorrowful leave, Proteus set out on his journey to 
 Milan, the abode of his friend Valentine. 
 
 Valentine was in reality what Proteus had feigned to 
 his father, in high favor with the Duke of Milan ; and 135 
 another event had happened to him of wdiich Proteus 
 did not even dream, for Valentine had given up the 
 freedom of which he used so much to boast, and was 
 become as passionate a lover as Proteus. 
 
 She who had wrought this wondrous change in Val- 140 
 ^ Resolute, determined. '^ Fidelity. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 79 
 
 entine was the lady Silvia,' daughter of the Duke of 
 Milan \ and she also loved him ; but they concealed 
 their love from the duke, because, although he showed 
 much kindness for Valentine and invited him every day 
 to his palace, yet he designed to marry his daughter to m5 
 a young courtier whose name was Thurio.^ Silvia de- 
 spised this Thurio, for he had none of the fine sense 
 and excellent qualities of Valentine. 
 
 These two rivals, Thurio and Valentine, were one 
 day on a visit to Silvia, and Valentine was entertaining 150 
 Silvia with turning everything Thurio said into ridicule, 
 when the duke himself entered the room, and told Val- 
 entine the welcome news of his friend Proteus's arrival. 
 Valentine said, " If I had wished a thing, it would have 
 been to have seen him here !" and then he highly praised 155 
 Proteus to the duke, saying, " My lord, though I have 
 been a truant of my time, yet hath my friend made use 
 and fair advantage of his days, and is complete in per- 
 son and in mind, in all good grace to grace a gentle- 
 man." 160 
 
 "Welcome him, then, according to his worth," said 
 the duke: " Silvia, I speak to you, and you. Sir Thurio; 
 for Valentine, I need not bid him do so." They were 
 here interrupted by the entrance of Proteus, and Valen- 
 tine introduced him to Silvia, saying, " Sweet lady, en- 165 
 tertain ^ him to be my fellow-servant to your ladyship." 
 
 When Valentine and Proteus had ended their visit 
 and were alone together, Valentine said : "Now tell me 
 how all does from whence you came ? How does your 
 lady, and how thrives your love.''" Proteus replied 1170 
 " My tales of love used to weary you. I know you joy 
 not in a love-discourse." 
 
 ^ Sil'-vl-a. '^ Thu'-rl-o. ^ Receive. 
 
8o TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 " Ay, Proteus," returned Valentine, " but that life is 
 altered now. I have done penance for contemning 
 love. For in revenge of my contempt of love, love '75 
 has chased sleep from my enthralled ^ eyes. O gentle 
 Proteus, Love is a mighty lord, and hath so humbled 
 me that I confess there is no woe like his correction, 
 nor no such joy on earth as in his service ! I now like 
 no discourse except it be of love. Now I can break 180 
 my fast, dine, sup, and sleep upon the very name of 
 love." 
 
 This acknowledgment of the change which love had 
 made in the disposition of Valentine was a great tri- 
 umph to his friend Proteus. But " friend " Proteus 185 
 must be called no longer, for the same all-powerful 
 deity Love, of whom they were speaking (yea, even 
 while they were talking of the change he had. made in 
 Valentine), was working in the heart of Proteus ; and 
 he who had till this time been a pattern of true love 19° 
 and perfect friendship was now, in one short interview 
 with Silvia, become a false friend and a faithless lover ; 
 for at the first sight of Silvia all his love for Julia van- 
 ished away like a dream, nor did his long friendship 
 for Valentine deter him from endeavoring to supplant 195 
 him in her affections ; and although, as it will always 
 be when people of dispositions naturally good become 
 unjust, he had many scruples before he determined to 
 forsake Julia and become the rival of Valentine, yet he 
 at length overcame his sense of duty and yielded him- 200 
 self up, almost without remorse, to his new unhappy 
 passion. 
 
 Valentine imparted to him in confidence the whole 
 history of his love, and how carefully they had con- 
 ' Enslaved, captivated. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 8 1 
 
 cealed it from the duke her father, and told him that, 205 
 despairing of ever being able to obtain his consent, he 
 had prevailed upon Silvia to leave her father's palace 
 that night and go with him to Mantua ; then he showed 
 Proteus a ladder of ropes, by help of which he meant 
 to assist Silvia to get out of one of the windows of the 210 
 palace after it was dark. 
 
 Upon hearing this faithful recital of his friend's dear- 
 est secrets, it is hardly possible to be believed, but so 
 it was, that Proteus resolved to go to the duke and 
 disclose the whole to him. 215 
 
 This false friend began his tale with many artful 
 speeches to the duke, such as that by the laws of friend- 
 ship he ought to conceal what he was going to reveal, 
 but that the gracious favor the duke had shown him, 
 and the duty he owed his grace, urged him to tell that 220 
 which else no worldly good should draw from him ; he 
 then told all he had heard from Valentine, not omitting 
 the ladder of ropes and the manner in which Valentine 
 meant to conceal it under a long cloak. 
 
 The duke thought Proteus quite a miracle of integ- 225 
 rity, in that he preferred telling his friend's intention 
 rather than he would conceal an unjust action, highly 
 commended him, and promised him not to let Valen- 
 tine know from whom he had learned this intelligence,' 
 but by some artifice^ to make Valentine betray the 230 
 secret himself. For this purpose the duke awaited the 
 coming of Valentine in the evening, whom he soon saw 
 hurrying toward the palace, and he perceived somewhat 
 was wrapped within his cloak, which he concluded was 
 the rope ladder. 235 
 
 The duke upon this stopped him, saying, "Whither 
 
 ' News. = Trick. 
 
 6 
 
82 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 away so fast, Valentine ?" " May it please your grace," 
 said Valentine, " there is a messenger that stays to bear 
 my letters to my friends, and I am going to deliver 
 them." Now this falsehood of Valentine's had no bet- 240 
 ter success in the event ' than the untruth Proteus had 
 told his father. 
 
 "Be^ they of much import?" said the duke. 
 
 " No more, my lord," said Valentine, " than to tell 
 my father I am well and happy at your grace's court." 245 
 
 "Nay, then," said the duke, "no matter; stay with 
 me a while. I wish your counsel about some affairs 
 that concern me nearly." He then told Valentine an 
 artful story, as a prelude ^ to draw his secret from him, 
 saying that Valentine knew he wished to match his 250 
 daughter with Thurio, but that she was stubborn and 
 disobedient to his commands, " neither regarding," said 
 he, " that she is my child, nor fearing me as if I were 
 her father ; and I may say to thee, this pride of hers 
 has drawn my love from her. I had thought my 255 
 age should* have been cherished by her childlike duty. 
 I now am resolved to take a wife, and turn her out 
 to whosoever will take her in. Let her beauty be 
 her wedding -dower, for me and my possessions she 
 esteems not." 260 
 
 Valentine, wondering where all this would end, made 
 answer, " And what would your grace have me do in 
 all this?" 
 
 " Why," said the duke, " the lady I would wish to 
 marry is nice and coy, and does not much esteem my 265 
 aged eloquence. Besides, the fashion of courtship is 
 much changed since I was young ; now I would will- 
 
 ^ End, issue, ■ Are. 
 
 ' Introduction. * Would 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Z^ ■ 
 
 ingly have you to be my tutor to instruct me how I 
 am to woo." 
 
 Valentine gave him a general idea of the modes of 270 
 courtship then practised by young men when they 
 wished to win a fair lady's love, such as presents, 
 frequent visits, and the like. 
 
 The duke replied to this that the lady did refuse a 
 present which he sent her, and that she was so strictly 275 
 kept by her father that no man might have access to 
 her by day. 
 
 "Why, then," said Valentine, "you must visit her by 
 night." 
 
 "But at night," said the artful duke, who was now 280 
 coming to the drift of his discourse, " her doors are fast 
 locked." 
 
 Valentine then unfortunately proposed that the duke 
 should get into the lady's chamber at night by means 
 of a ladder of ropes, saying he would procure him one 285 
 fitting for that purpose, and in conclusion advised him 
 to conceal this ladder of ropes under such a cloak as 
 that which he now wore. "Lend me your cloak," said 
 the duke, who had feigned this long story on purpose 
 to have a pretence to get off the cloak; so, upon saying 290 
 these words, he caught hold of Valentine's cloak, and 
 throwing it back he discovered not only the ladder of 
 ropes, but also a letter of Silvia's, which he instantly 
 opened and read ; and this letter contained a full ac- 
 count of their intended elopement. The duke, after 295 
 upbraiding Valentine for his ingratitude in thus return- 
 ing the favor he had shown him, by endeavoring to 
 steal away his daughter, banished him from the court 
 and city of Milan forever; and Valentine was forced 
 to depart that night, without even seeing Silvia. 3°° 
 
84 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 While Proteus at Milan was thus injuring Valentine, 
 Julia at Verona was regretting the absence of Proteus ; 
 and her regard for him at last so far overcame her sense 
 of propriety that she resolved to leave Verona and seek 
 her lover at Milan ; and, to secure herself from danger 305 
 on tlie road, she dressed her maid Lucetta and herself 
 in men's clothes, and they set out in this disguise, and 
 arrived at Milan soon after Valentine was banished 
 from that city through the treachery of Proteus. ». 
 
 Julia entered Milan about noon, and she took up her 310 
 abode at an inn ; and, her thoughts being all on her 
 dear Proteus, she entered into conversation with the 
 innkeeper, or host, as he was called, thinking by that 
 means to learn some news of Proteus. 
 
 The host was greatly pleased that this handsome 315 
 young gentleman (as he took her to be), who from hi*s 
 appearance he concluded was of high rank, spoke so 
 familiarly to him ; and, being a good-natured man, he 
 was sorry to see him look so melancholy ; and, to amuse 
 his young guest, he offered to take him to hear some 32° 
 fine music, with which, he said, a gentleman that 
 evening was. going to serenade his mistress. 
 
 The reason Julia looked so very melancholy was that 
 she did not well know what Proteus would think of the 
 imprudent step she had taken; for she knew he had 32s 
 loved her for her noble maiden pride and dignity of 
 character, and she feared she should lower herself in 
 his esteem ; and this it was that made her wear a sad 
 and thoughtful countenance. 
 
 She gladly accepted the offer of the host to go with 33° 
 him and hear the music, for she secretly hoped she 
 might meet Proteus by the way. 
 
 But when she came to the palace whither the host 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 85 
 
 conducted her, a very different effect was produced from 
 what the kind host intended ; for there, to her heart's 335 
 sorrow, she beheld her lover, the inconstant ^ Proteus, 
 serenading the lady Silvia with music, and addressing 
 discourse of love and admiration to her. And Julia 
 overheard Silvia from a window talk with Proteus, and 
 reproach him for forsaking his own true lady, and for 340 
 his ingratitude to his friend Valentine ; and then Silvia 
 ■left the window, not choosing to listen to his music and 
 his fine speeches; for she was a faithful lady to her 
 banished Valentine, and abhorred the ungenerous con- 
 duct of his false friend Proteus. 345 
 
 Though Julia was in despair at what she had just 
 witnessed, yet did she still love the truant Proteus; and 
 hearing that he had lately parted with a servant, she 
 contrived, with the assistance of her host, the friendly 
 innkeeper, to hire herself to Proteus as a page; and Pro- 350 
 teus knew not she was Julia, and he sent her with letters 
 and presents to her rival Silvia, and he even sent by her 
 the very ring she gave him as a parting gift at Verona. 
 
 When she went to that lady with the ring, she was 
 most glad to find that Silvia utterly rejected the suit of 355 
 Proteus ; and Julia, or the page Sebastian,^ as she was 
 called, entered into conversation with Silvia about Pro- 
 teus's first love, the forsaken lady Julia. She, putting 
 in (as one may say) a good word for herself, said she 
 knew Julia, as well she might, being herself the Julia 360 
 of whom she spoke ; telling how fondly Julia loved 
 her master Proteus, and how his unkind neglect would 
 grieve her ; and then she with a pretty equivocation 
 went on: "Julia is about my height, and of my com- 
 plexion, the color of her eyes and hair the same as 365 
 ^ False, faithless. ^ Se-bas'-tian. 
 
86 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 mine ;" and indeed Julia looked a most beautiful youth 
 in her boy's attire. Silvia was moved to pity this lovely 
 lady, who was so sadly forsaken by the man she loved, 
 and, when Julia offered the ring which Proteus had sent, 
 refused it, saying : " The more shame for him that he 370 
 sends me that ring ! I will not take it, for I have often 
 heard him say his Julia gave it to him. I love thee, 
 gentle youth, for pitying her, poor lady ! Here is a 
 purse ; I give it you for Julia's sake." These com- 
 fortable ^ words, coming from her kind rival's tongue, 375 
 cheered the drooping heart of the disguised lady. 
 
 But to return to the banished Valentine, who scarce 
 knew which way to bend his course, being unwilling to 
 return home to his father a disgraced and banished man. 
 As he was wandering over a lonely forest, not far dis-380 
 tant from Milan, where he had left his heart's dear treas- 
 ure, the lady Silvia, he was set upon by robbers, who 
 demanded his money. 
 
 Valentine told them that he was a man crossed by 
 adversity, that he was going into banishment, and that 385 
 he had no money, the clothes he had on being all his 
 riches. 
 
 The robbers, hearing that he was' a distressed man, 
 and being struck with his noble air and manly behavior, 
 told him if he would live with them, and be their chief, 390 
 or captain, they would put themselves under his com- 
 mand ; but that, if he refused to accept their offer, they 
 would kill him. 
 
 Valentine, who cared little what became of himself, 
 said he would consent to live with them and be their 39s 
 captain, provided they did no outrage on women or poor 
 passengers.*^ 
 
 * Comforting. ^ Passers-by, travellers. 
 
I'HE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 87 
 
 THE ROBBERS. 
 
 Thus the noble Valentine became, like Robin Hood, 
 of whom we read in ballads, a captain of robbers and 
 outlawed banditti \ ^ and in this situation he was found 400 
 by Silvia, and in this manner it came to pass : 
 
 Silvia, to avoid a marriage with Thurio, whom her 
 father insisted upon her no longer refusing, came at last 
 ^ Bandits (an Italian plural). 
 
88 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 to the resolution of following Valentine to Mantua, at 
 which place she had heard her lover had taken refuge; 405 
 but in this account she was misinformed, for he still 
 lived in the forest among the robbers, bearing the name 
 of their captain but taking no part in their depreda- 
 tions, and using the authority which they had imposed 
 upon him in no other way than to compel them to show 410 
 compassion to the travellers they robbed. 
 
 Silvia contrived to effect her escape from her father's 
 palace in company with a worthy old gentleman whose 
 name was Eglamour,^ whom she took along with her for 
 protection on the road. She had to pass through the 4^5 
 forest where Valentine and the banditti dwelt ; and one 
 of these robbers seized on Silvia, and would also have 
 taken Eglamour, but he escaped. 
 
 The robber who had taken Silvia, seeing the terror 
 she was in, bid her not be alarmed, for that he was only 420 
 going to carry her to a cave where his captain lived, and 
 that she need not be afraid, for their captain had an 
 honorable mind and always showed humanity to women. 
 Silvia found little comfort in hearing she was going to 
 be carried as a prisoner before the captain of a'' law- 425 
 less banditti. *'0 Valentine," she cried, "this I endure 
 for thee !" 
 
 But as the robber was conveying her to the cave of 
 his captain, he was stopped by Proteus, who, still at- 
 tended by Julia in the disguise of a page, having heard 430 
 of the flight of Silvia, had traced her steps to this forest. 
 Proteus now rescued her from the hands of the robber ; 
 but scarce had she time to thank him for the service he 
 had done her before he began to distress her afresh 
 with his love-suit ; and while he was rudely pressing her 435 
 1 Eg'-la-mour (moor). "^ See Notes. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 89 
 
 to consent to marry him, and his page (the forlorn Julia) 
 was standing beside them in great anxiety of mind, 
 fearing lest the great service which Proteus had just 
 done to Silvia should win her to show him some favor, 
 they were all strangely surprised with the sudden ap-440 
 pearance of Valentine, who, having heard his robbers had 
 taken a lady prisoner, came to console and relieve her. 
 
 Proteus was courting Silvia, and he was so much 
 ashamed of being caught by his friend that he was all 
 at once seized with penitence and remorse j and he 445 
 expressed such a lively sorrow for the injuries he had 
 done to Valentine that Valentine, whose nature was 
 noble and generous even to a romantic degree, not only 
 forgave and restored him to his former place in his 
 friendship, but in a sudden flight of heroism he said, 450 
 " I freely do forgive you ; and all the interest I have in 
 Silvia I give it up to you." Julia, who was standing 
 beside her master as a page, hearing this strange offer, 
 and fearing Proteus would not be able, with this new- 
 found virtue, to refuse Silvia, fainted, and they were all 45s 
 employed in recovering her; else would Silvia have been 
 offended at being thus made over to Proteus., though she 
 could scarcely think that Valentine would long perse- 
 vere in this overstrained and too generous act of friend- 
 ship. When Julia recovered from the fainting-fit, she 460 
 said, "I had forgot, my master ordered me to deliver 
 this ring to Silvia." Proteus, looking upon the ring, 
 saw that it was the one he gave to Julia in return for 
 that which he received from her, and which he had 
 sent by the supposed page to Silvia. " How is this ?" 465 
 said he ; " this is Julia's ring ; how came you by it, 
 boy?" Julia answered, "Julia herself did give it me, 
 and Julia herself hath brought it hither." 
 
90 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARKS COMEDIES. 
 
 Proteus, now looking earnestly upon her, plainly per- 
 ceived that the page Sebastian was no other than the 470 
 lady Julia herself; and the proof she had given of her 
 constancy and true love so wrought in him that his love 
 for her returned into his heart, and he took again his 
 own dear lady, and joyfully resigned all pretensions to 
 the lady Silvia to Valentine, who had so well deserved 475 
 her. 
 
 Proteus and Valentine were expressing their happi- 
 ness in their reconciliation, and in the love of their 
 faithful ladies, when they were surprised with the sight 
 of the Duke of Milan and Thurio, who came there in 480 
 pursuit of Silvia. 
 
 Thurio first approached, and attempted to seize Sil- 
 via, saying, '' Silvia is mine." Upon this Valentine said 
 to him in a very spirited manner: "Thurio, keep back; 
 if once again you say that Silvia is yours, you shall em- 485 
 brace your death. Here she stands; take but posses- 
 sion of her with a touch ! I dare you but to breathe 
 upon my love." Hearing this threat, Thurio, who was 
 a great coward, drew back, and said he cared not for 
 her, and that none but a fool would fight for a girl who 490 
 loved him not. 
 
 The duke, who was a very brave man himself, said 
 now, in great anger, " The more base and degenerate ^ 
 in you to take such means for her as you have done, 
 and leave her on such slight conditions." Then, turning 495 
 to Valentine, he said : " I do applaud your spirit, Valen- 
 tine, and think you worthy of an empress's love. You 
 shall have Silvia, for you have well deserved her." Val- 
 entine then, with great humility, kissed the duke's hand, 
 and accepted the noble present which he had made him 500 
 ^ Degraded, mean. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 91 
 
 of his daughter with becoming thankfulness ; taking oc- 
 casion of this joyful nninute to entreat the good-humored 
 duke to pardon the thieves with whom he had associated 
 in the forest, assuring him that, when reformed and 
 restored to society, there would be found among them 503 
 many good and fit for great employment ; for the most 
 of them had been banished, like Valentine, for state 
 offences rather than for any black crimes they had been 
 guilty of. To this the ready duke consented ; and now 
 nothing remained but that Proteus, the false friend, was 510 
 ordained, by way of penance for his love -prompted 
 faults, to be present at the recital of the whole story of 
 his loves and falsehoods before the duke ; and the 
 shame of the recital to his awakened conscience was 
 judged sufficient punishment; which being done, thesis 
 lovers, all four, returned back to Milan, and their nup- 
 tials were solemnized in presence of the duke, with 
 high triumphs and feasting. 
 
RIALTO BRIDGE, VENICE. 
 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Shylock the Jew lived at Venice; he was a usurer, 
 who had amassed an immense fortune by lending money 
 at great interest to Christian merchants. Shylock, be- 
 ing a hard-hearted man, exacted the payment of the 
 money he lent with such severity that he was much dis- s 
 liked by all good men, and particularly by Antonio,' a 
 young merchant of Venice; and Shylock as much hated 
 Antonio, because he used to lend money to people in 
 distress, and would never take any interest for the money 
 he lent; therefore there was great enmity between this lo 
 
 ^ An-t5'-ni-o. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 93 
 
 covetous Jew and the generous merchant Antonio. 
 Whenever Antonio met Shylock on the Rialto ^ (or Ex- 
 change), he used to reproach him with his usuries and 
 hard deaUngsj which the Jew would bear with seeming 
 patience, while he secretly meditated revenge. 15 
 
 Antonio was the kindest man that lived, the best- 
 conditioned,^ and had the most unwearied spirit in doing 
 courtesies ; indeed, he was one in whom the ancient 
 Roman honor more appeared than in any that drew 
 breath in Italy. He was greatly beloved by all his 20 
 fellow -citizens; but the friend who was nearest and 
 dearest to his heart was Bassanio,^ a noble Venetian, 
 who, having but a small patrimony, had nearly exhausted 
 his little fortune by living in too expensive a manner 
 for his slender means, as young men of high rank with 25 
 small fortunes are too apt to do. Whenever Bassanio 
 wanted money, Antonio assisted him; and it seemed as 
 if they had but one heart and one purse between them. 
 
 One day Bassanio came to Antonio, and told him 
 that he wished to repair his fortune by a wealthy mar- 30 
 riage with a lady whom he dearly loved, whose father, 
 that was lately dead, had left her sole heiress to a large 
 estate; and that, in her father's lifetime, he used to 
 visit at her house, when he thought he had observed 
 this lady had sometimes from her eyes sent speechless 35 
 messages that seemed to say he would be no unwelcome 
 suitor; but, not having money to furnish himself with 
 an appearance befitting the lover of so rich an heiress, 
 he besought Antonio to add to the many favors he had 
 shown him by lending him three thousand ducats." 4° 
 
 ' Rt-al'-to. ^ Best in nature or disposition. 
 
 ^ Bas-sa'-ni-o (second a as in ah). 
 
 ^ Duc'-ats ; coins worth about a dollar. 
 
94 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Antonio had no money by him at that time to lend 
 his friend ; but, expecting soon to have some ships 
 come home laden with merchandise, he said he would 
 go to Shylock, the rich money-lender, and borrow the 
 money upon the credit of those ships. 45 
 
 Antonio and Bassanio went together to Shylock, and 
 Antonio asked the Jew to lend him three thousand 
 ducats upon an interest he should require, to be paid 
 out of the merchandise contained in his ships at sea. 
 On this Shylock thought within himself: " If I can once 5° 
 catch him on the hip,' I will feed fat the ancient grudge 
 I bear him ; he hates our Jewish nation ; he lends out 
 money gratis ; and among the merchants he rails at me 
 and my well-earned bargains, which he calls interest.^ 
 Cursed be my tribe if I forgive him !" Antonio, finding 55 
 he was musing within himself and did not answer, and 
 being impatient for the money, said, " Shylock, do you 
 hear ? will you lend the money ?" To this question the 
 Jew replied: " Signior Antonio, on the Rialto many a 
 time and often you have railed at me about my moneys 60 
 and my usuries, and I have borne it with a patient 
 shrug, for sufferance^ is the badge of all our tribe; and 
 then you have called me unbeliever, cut -throat dog, 
 and spit upon my Jewish garments, and spurned at me 
 with your foot as if I were a cur. Well, then, now, it 65 
 appears you need my help ; and you come to me and 
 say, Shylock^ lend me moneys. Has a dog money .<' Is 
 it possible a cur should lend three thousand ducats? 
 Shall I bend low and say. Fair sir, you spit upon me on 
 Wednesday last, another time you called me dog, and 70 
 for these courtesies I am to lend you moneys." Anto- 
 
 ' Get him into my power. - See Notes. 
 
 3 Bearing with patience. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 95 
 
 nio replied: "I am as like to call you so again, to spit 
 on you again, and spurn you too. If you will lend me 
 this money, lend it not to me as to a friend, but rather 
 lend it to me as to an enemy, that, if I break,' you may 75 
 with better face exact the pc^i^alty." "Why, look you," 
 said Shylock, " how you storm ! I would be friends 
 with you, and have your love. I will forget the shames 
 you have put upon me. I will supply your wants, and 
 take no interest for my money." This seemingly kind 80 
 offer greatly surprised Antonio; and then Shylock, still 
 pretending kindness and that all he did was to gain 
 Antonio's love, again said he would lend him the three 
 thousand ducats and take no interest for his money; 
 only Antonio should go with him to a lawyer, and there 85 
 sign in merry sport a bond that, if he did not repay the 
 money by a certain day, he would forfeit a pound of 
 flesh, to be cut off from any part of his body that Shy- 
 lock pleased. 
 
 "Content," said Antonio; "I will sign to this bond, 90 
 and say there is much kindness in the Jew." 
 
 Bassanio said Antonio should not sign to such a 
 bond for him; but still Antonio insisted thathe would 
 sign it, for that before the day of payment came his 
 ships would return laden with many times the value of 95 
 the money. 
 
 Shylock, hearing this debate, exclaimed: "O father 
 Abraham ! what suspicious people these Christians are ! 
 Their own hard dealings teach them to suspect the 
 thoughts of others. I pray you tell me this, Bassanio: loc 
 if he should break his day, what should I gain by the 
 exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of man's flesh, 
 taken from a man, is not so estimable,^ nor profitable 
 ' Break my word, fail to pay. ^ Valuable. 
 
96 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 neither, as the flesh of mutton or of beef. I say, to buy 
 his favor I offer this friendship; if he will take it, so;' 105 
 if not, adieu." 
 
 At last, against the advice of Bassanio, who, notwith- 
 standing all the Jew had said of his kind intentions, 
 did not like his friend should run the hazard of this 
 shocking penalty for his sake, Antonio signed the bond, no 
 thinking it really was (as the Jew said) merely in sport. 
 
 The rich heiress that Bassanio wished to marry lived 
 near Venice, at a place called Belmont; her name was 
 Portia, and in the graces of her person and her mind 
 she was nothing inferior to that Portia of whom we 115 
 read, who was Cato's daughter and the wife of Brutus. 
 
 Bassanio, being so kindly supplied with money by 
 his friend Antonio at the hazard of his life, set out for 
 Belmont with a splendid train, and attended by a gen- 
 tleman of the name of Gratiano.^ 120 
 
 Bassanio proving successful in his suit, Portia in a 
 short time consented to accept of him for a husband. 
 
 Bassanio confessed to Portia that he had no fortune, 
 and that his high birth and noble ancestry was all that 
 he could boast of. She, who loved him for his worthy 125 
 qualities, and had riches enough not to regard wealth 
 in a husband, answered with a graceful modesty that 
 she would wish herself a thousand times more fair 
 and ten thousand times more rich, to be more worthy 
 of him ; and then the accomplished Portia prettily dis- 130 
 praised herself, and said she was an unlessoned girl, 
 unschooled, unpractised, yet not so old but that she 
 could learn, and that she would commit her gentle spirit 
 to be directed and governed .by him in all things ; and 
 she said: "Myself and what is mine to you and yours 135 
 ' So be it. ' Gra-tia'-no (Grah-shah'-no). 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 97 
 
 is now converted. But yesterday, Bassanio, I was the 
 lady of this fair mansion, queen of myself, and mistress 
 over these servants ; and now this house, these servants, 
 and myself are yours, my lord ; I give them with this 
 ring," presenting a ring to Bassanio. 140 
 
 Bassanio was so overpowered wifh gratitude and 
 wonder at the gracious manner in which the rich and 
 noble Portia accepted of a man of his humble fortunes, 
 that he could not express his joy and reverence to the 
 dear lady who so honored him by anything but broken 145 
 words of love and thankfulness; and, taking the ring, 
 he vowed never to part with it. 
 
 Gratiano and Nerissa,* Portia's waiting-maid, were in 
 attendance upon their lord and lady, when Portia so 
 gracefully promised to become the obedient wife of 150 
 Bassanio ; and Gratiano, wishing Bassanio and the 
 generous lady joy, desired permission to be married 
 at the same time. 
 
 "With all my heart, Gratiano," said Bassanio, "if 
 you can get a wife." 155 
 
 Gratiano then said that he loved the lady Portia's 
 fair waiting -gentlewoman, Nerissa, and that she had 
 promised to be his wife if her lady married Bassanio. 
 Portia asked Nerissa if this was true. Nerissa replied, 
 " Madam, it is so, if you approve of it." Portia will- 160 
 ingly consenting, Bassanio pleasantly said, " Then our 
 wedding- feast shall be much honored by your mar- 
 riage, Gratiano." 
 
 The happiness of these lovers was sadly crossed at 
 this moment by the entrance of a messenger, who 165 
 brought a letter from Antonio containing fearful tidings. 
 When Bassanio read Antonio's letter, Portia feared it 
 
 ' Nc-rls'-sa. 
 7 
 
98 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 was to tell him of the death of some dear friend, he 
 looked so pale ; and inquiring what was the news which 
 had so distressed him, he said : " O sweet Portia, here 170 
 are a few of the unpleasantest words that ever blotted 
 paper! Gentle lady, v^hen I first imparted my love to 
 you, I freely told you all the wealth I had ran in my 
 veins; but I should have told you that I had less than 
 nothing, being in debt." Bassanio then told Portia 175 
 what has been here related, of his borrowing the money 
 of Antonio, and of Antonio's procuring it of Shylock 
 the Jew, and of the bond by which Antonio had engaged 
 to forfeit a pound of flesh, if it was not repaid by a 
 certain day; and then Bassanio read Antonio's letter, 180 
 the words of which were : " Sweet Bassanio^ my ships 
 are all lost, my bo7id to the J^ew isforfeited; and since in 
 paying it is impossible I should live, I could wish to see 
 you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure ; if 
 your love for me do not persuade you to come, let not my^^s 
 letter.^^ " O my dear love," said Portia, " dispatch all 
 business and be gone ! You shall have gold to pay the 
 money twenty times over, before this kind friend shall 
 lose a hair by my Bassanio's fault; and as you are so 
 dearly bought, I will dearly love you." Portia then said 19° 
 she would be married to Bassanio before he set out, to 
 give him a legal right to her money: and that same 
 day they were married, and Gratiano was also married 
 to Nerissa; and Bassanio and Gratiano, the instant they 
 were married, set out in great haste for Venice, where 195 
 Bassanio found Antonio in prison. 
 
 The day of payment being past, the cruel Jew would 
 not accept of the money which Bassanio offered him, 
 but insisted upon having a pound of Antonio's flesh. 
 A day was appointed to try this shocking cause before 200 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 99 
 
 the Duke of Venice, and Bassanio awaited in dreadful 
 suspense the event of the trial. 
 
 When Portia parted with her husband, she spoke 
 cheeringly to him, and bid him bring his dear friend 
 along with him when he returned; yet she feared it 205 
 would go hard with Antonio, and when she was left 
 alone she began to think and consider within herself 
 if she could by any means be instrumental in saving 
 the life, of her dear Bassanio's friend; and notwith- 
 standing, when she wished to honor her Bassanio, she 210 
 had said to him with such a meek and wifelike grace 
 that she would submit in all things to be governed by 
 his superior wisdom, yet being now called forth into 
 action by the peril of her honored husband's friend, 
 she did nothing^ doubt her own powers, and by thesis 
 sole guidance of her own true and perfect judgment 
 at once resolved to go herself to Venice and speak in 
 Antonio's defence. 
 
 Portia had a relation who was a counsellor in the 
 law. To this gentleman, whose name was Bellario,^ she 220 
 wrote, and, stating the case to him, desired his opinion, 
 and that with his advice he would also send her the 
 dress worn by a counsellor. When the messenger re- 
 turned, he brought letters from Bellario of advice how 
 to proceed, and also everything necessary for her 225 
 equipment. 
 
 Portia dressed herself and her maid Nerissa in men's 
 apparel, and, putting on the robes of a counsellor, she 
 took Nerissa along with her as her clerk; and, setting 
 out immediately, they arrived at Venice on the very day 230 
 of the trial. The cause was just going to be heard be- 
 fore the Duke and Senators of Venice in the senate- 
 ' Not at all (adverb). ^ Bel-la'-ri-o {a as in aJi). 
 
loo TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 COLONNADE OF DUCAL PALACE, VENICE. 
 
 house, when Portia entered this high court of justice 
 and presented a letter from Bellario, in which that 
 learned counsellor wrote to the duke, saying he would 235 
 have come himself to plead for Antonio but that he 
 was prevented by sickness, and he requested that the 
 learned young doctor Balthazar' (so he called Portia) 
 might be permitted to plead in his stead. This the 
 duke granted, much wondering at the youthful appear- 240 
 ance of the stranger, who was prettily disguised by her 
 counsellor's robes and her large wig. 
 
 And now began this important trial. Portia looked 
 around her, and she saw the merciless Jew; and she 
 saw Bassanio, but he knew her not in her disguise. He 245 
 ^ Bal'-tha-zar. See Notes. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. iot 
 
 was standing beside Antonio, in an agony of distress 
 and fear for his friend. 
 
 The importance of the arduous task Portia had en- 
 gaged in gave this tender lady courage, and she boldly 
 proceeded in the duty she had undertaken to perform; 250 
 and, first of all, she addressed herself to Shylock, and, 
 allowing that he had a right by the Venetian law to 
 have the forfeit expressed in the bond, she spoke so 
 sweetly of the noble quality of mercy as would have 
 softened any heart but the unfeeling Shylock's; saying 255 
 that it dropped as the gentle rain from heaven upon 
 the place beneath ; and how mercy was a double bless- 
 ing — it blessed him that gave, and him that received it j 
 and how it became monarchs better than their crowns, 
 being an attribute of God himself; and that earthly 260 
 power came nearest to God's in proportion as mercy 
 tempered justice : and she bid Shylock remember that, 
 as we all pray for mercy, that same prayer should teach 
 us to show mercy. Shylock only answered her by de- 
 siring to have the penalty forfeited in the bond. "Is 265 
 he not able to pay the money?" asked Portia. Bassa- 
 nio then offered the Jew the payment of the three 
 thousand ducats as many times over as he should de- 
 sire; which Shylock refusing and still insisting upon 
 having a pound of Antonio's flesh, Bassanio begged 270 
 the learned young counsellor would endeavor to wrest ^ 
 the law a little, to save Antonio's life. But Portia grave- 
 ly answered that laws once established must never 
 be altered. Shylock hearing Portia say that the law 
 might not be altered, it seemed to him that she was 275 
 pleading in his favor, and he said: "A DanieP is 
 come to judgment ! O wise young judge, how I 
 ^ Misinterpret. - See Daniel, v. 14-29. 
 
I02 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 do honor you ! How much elder are you than your 
 looks!" 
 
 Portia now desired Shylock to let her look at the 280 
 bond ; and when she had read it, she said, " This bond 
 is forfeited, and by this the Jew may lawfully claim a 
 pound of flesh, to be by him cut off nearest Antonio's 
 heart." Then she said to Shylock, "Be merciful; take 
 the money, and bid me tear the bond." But no mercy 285 
 would the cruel Shylock show; and he said, "By my 
 soul I swear there is no power in the tongue of man 
 to alter me." "Why, then, Antonio," said Portia, "you 
 must prepare your bosom for the knife ;" and, while 
 Shylock was sharpening a long knife with great eager- 290 
 ness to cut off the pound of flesh, Portia said to Anto- 
 nio, " Have you any thing to say ?" Antonio, with a 
 calm resignation, replied that he had but little to say, 
 for that he had prepared his mind for death. Then he 
 said toBassanio: "Give me your hand, Bassanio! Fare 295 
 you well ! Grieve not that I am fallen into this mis- 
 fortune for you. Commend me to your honorable wife, 
 and tell her how I have loved you!" Bassanio, in the 
 deepest affliction, replied, " Antonio, I am married to a 
 wife who is as dear to me as life itself; but life itself, 300 
 my wife, and all the world are not esteemed with me 
 above your life : I would lose all, I would sacrifice all 
 to this devil here, to deliver you." 
 
 Portia hearing this, though the kind-hearted lady was 
 not at all offended with her husband for expressing the 305 
 love he owed to so true a friend as Antonio in these 
 strong terms, yet could not help answering, "Your wife 
 would give you little thanks, if she were present to hear 
 you make this offer." And then Gratiano, who loved 
 to copy what his lord did, thought he must make a 310 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 103 
 
 speech like Bassanio's, and he said, in Nerissa's hear- 
 ing, who was writing in her clerk's dress by the side of 
 Portia, " I have a wife whom I protest I love ; I wish 
 she were in heaven, if she could but entreat some 
 power there to change the cruel temper of this currish 315 
 Jew." "It is well you wish this behind her back, else 
 you would have but an unquiet house," said Nerissa. 
 
 Shylock now cried out impatiently, "We trifle time;^ 
 I pray, pronounce the sentence." And now all was 
 awful expectation in the court, and every heart was full 320 
 of grief for Antonio. 
 
 Portia asked if the scales were ready to weigh the 
 flesh ; and she said to the Jew, " Shylock, you must 
 have some surgeon by, lest he bleed to death." Shy- 
 lock, whose whole intent was that Antonio should bleed 325 
 to death, said, "It is not so named in the bond." Por- 
 tia replied, " It is not so named in the bond, but what 
 of that? It were good you did so much for charity." 
 To this all the answer Shylock would make was, " I 
 cannot find it ; it is not in the bond." " Then," said 330 
 Portia, "a pound of Antonio's flesh is thine. The law 
 allows it, and the court awards it. And you may cut 
 this flesh from off his breast. The law allows it, and 
 the court awards it." Again Shylock exclaimed, " O 
 wise and upright judge! A Daniel is come to judg-335 
 ment!" And then he sharpened his long knife again, 
 and, looking eagerly on Antonio, he said, " Come, pre- 
 pare!" 
 
 "Tarry a little, Jew," said Portia; "there is some- 
 thing else. This bond here gives you no drop of blood; 340 
 the words expressly are, a pound of flesh. If in the 
 cutting ofl" the pound of flesh you shed one drop of 
 ^ Are wastiniT time. 
 
I04 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Christian blood, your land and goods are by the law to 
 be confiscated ^ to the state of Venice." Now, as it 
 was utterly impossible for Shylock to cut off the pound 345 
 of flesh without shedding some of Antonio's blood, this 
 wise discovery of Portia's that it was flesh, and not 
 blood, that was named in the bond, saved the life of 
 Antonio; and, all admiring the wonderful sagacity of 
 the young counsellor who had so happily thought of 350 
 this expedient, plaudits^ resounded from every part of 
 the senate-house ; and Gratiano exclaimed, in the words 
 which Shylock had used, " O wise and upright judge ! 
 mark, Jew, a Daniel is come to judgment !" 
 
 Shylock, finding himself defeated in his cruel intent, 355 
 said, with a disappointed look, that he would take the 
 money; and Bassanio, rejoiced beyond measure at An- 
 tonio's unexpected deliverance, cried out, " Here is the 
 money !" But Portia stopped him, saying : " Softly, there 
 is no haste ; the Jew shall have nothing but the pen- 360 
 alty. Therefore prepare, Shylock, to cut off the flesh; 
 but mind you shed no blood, nor do not cut off more 
 nor less than just a pound; be it more or less by one 
 poor scruple, nay, if the scale turn but by the weight 
 of a single hair, you are condemned by the laws of 365 
 Venice to die, and all your wealth is forfeited to the 
 senate." "Give me my money, and let me go," said 
 Shylock. " I have it ready," said Bassanio ; " here it 
 is." 
 
 Shylock was going to take the money, when Portia 370 
 again stopped him, saying : " Tarry, Jew, I have yet 
 another hold upon you. By the laws of Venice, your 
 wealth is forfeited to the state, for having conspired 
 against the life of one of its citizens, and your life lies 
 ' Forfeited. ' ^ Cries of applause. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 105 
 
 at the mercy of the duke ; therefore down on your 375 
 knees and ask him to pardon you." 
 
 The duke then said to Shylock: "That you may see 
 the difference of our Christian spirit, I pardon you your 
 life before you ask it. Half your wealth belongs to 
 Antonio, the other half comes to the state." 380 
 
 The generous Antonio then said that he would give 
 up his share of Shylock's wealth, if Shylock would sign 
 a deed to make it over at his death to his daughter and 
 her husband ; for Antonio knew that the Jew had an 
 only daughter, who had lately married against his con- 385 
 sent to a young Christian named Lorenzo, a friend of 
 Antonio's, which had so offended Shylock that he had 
 disinherited her. 
 
 The Jew agreed to this; and, being thus disappointed 
 in his revenge and despoiled of his riches, he said : " 1 39° 
 am ill. Let me go home ; send the deed after me, and 
 I will sign over half my riches to my daughter." " Get 
 thee gone, then," said the duke, "and sign it; and, if 
 you repent your cruelty and turn Christian, the state 
 will forgive you the fine of the other half of your 39s 
 riches." 
 
 The duke now released Antonio, and dismissed the 
 court. He then highly praised the wisdom and inge- 
 nuity of the young counsellor, and invited him home to 
 dinner. Portia, who meant to return to Belmont before 400 
 her husband, replied, " I humbly thank your grace, but 
 I must away directly." The duke said he v/as sorry he 
 had not leisure to stay and dine with him ; and, turning 
 to Antonio, he added, "Reward this gentleman ; for, in 
 my mind,^ you are much indebted to him." 405 
 
 The duke and his senators left the court; and then 
 
 ' Opinion. 
 
io6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Bassanio said to Portia, " Most worthy gentleman, I 
 and my friend Antonio have by your wisdom been this 
 day acquitted of grievous penalties, and I beg you will 
 accept of the three thousand ducats due unto the4if^ 
 Jew." "And we shall stand indebted to you over and 
 above," said Antonio, " in love and service evermore." 
 
 Portia could not be prevailed upon to accept the 
 money; but, upon Bassanio still pressing her to accept 
 of some reward, she said, " Give me your gloves, I will 4^5 
 wear them for your sake ;" and then, Bassanio taking 
 off his gloves, she espied the ring which she had given 
 him upon his finger. Now it was the ring the wily lady 
 wanted to get from him to make a merry jest when she 
 saw her Bassanio again, that made her ask him for his 420 
 gloves; and she said, when she saw the ring, "And for 
 your love I will take this ring from you." Bassanio 
 was sadly distressed that the counsellor should ask him 
 for the only thing he could not part with, and he re- 
 plied in great confusion that he could not give him 425 
 that ring, because it was his wife's gift and he had 
 vowed never to part with it; but that he would give 
 him the most valuable ring in Venice, and find it out 
 by proclamation. On this Portia affected to be af- 
 fronted, and left the court, saying, " You teach me, sir, 430 
 how a beggar should be answered." 
 
 "Dear Bassanio," said Antonio, "let him have the 
 ring ; let my love and the great service he has done for 
 me be valued against your wife's displeasure." Bas- 
 sanio, ashamed to appear so ungrateful, yielded, and 435 
 sent Gratiano after Portia with the ring; and then the 
 clerk Nerissa, who had also given Gratiano a ring, she 
 begged his ring, and Gratiano (not choosing to be out- 
 done in generosity by his lord) gave it to her. And 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 107 
 
 there was laughing among these ladies to think, when 440 
 they got home, how they would tax their husbands with 
 giving away their rings, and swear that they had given 
 them as a present to some woman. 
 
 Portia, when she returned, was in that happy temper 
 of mind which never fails to attend the consciousness 44s 
 of having performed a good action. Her cheerful spir- 
 its enjoyed everything she saw : the moon never seemed 
 to shine so bright before; and when that pleasant moon 
 was hid behind a cloud, then a light which she saw 
 from her house at Belmont as well pleased her charmed 45° 
 fancy, and she said to Nerissa, " That light we see is 
 burning in my hall; how. far that little candle throws 
 its beams! so shines a good deed in a naughty^ world;" 
 and, hearing the sound of music from her house, she 
 said, " Methinks that music sounds much sweeter than 45s 
 by day." 
 
 And now Portia and Nerissa entered the house, and, 
 dressing themselves in their own apparel, they awaited 
 the arrival of their husbands, who soon followed them 
 with Antonio; and Bassanio presenting his dear friend 460 
 to the lady Portia, the congratulations and welcomings 
 of that lady were hardly over when they perceived 
 Nerissa and her husband quarrelling in a corner of the 
 room. "A quarrel already ?" said Portia. "What is 
 the matter?" Gratiano replied, "Lady, it is about a 465 
 paltry gilt ring that Nerissa gave me, with words upon 
 it like the poetry on a cutler's knife — 'Love me, and 
 leave me not.' " 
 
 " What does the poetry or the value of the ring sig- 
 nify?" said Nerissa. "You swore to me, when I gave 470 
 it to you, that you would keep it till the hour of death ; 
 ^ For naughty^ see note on p. 43, line 280. 
 
io8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 and now you say you gave it to the lawyer's clerk. I 
 know you gave it to a woman." "By this hand," re- 
 plied Gratiano, " I gave it to a youth, a kind of boy, a 
 little scrubbed boy no higher^ than yourself; he was 475 
 clerk to the young counsellor that by his wise pleading 
 saved Antonio's life; this prating boy begged it for a 
 fee, and I could not for my life deny him." Portia said; 
 " You were to blame, Gratiano, to part with your wife's 
 first gift. I gave my lord Bassanio a ring, and I am 480 
 sure he would not part with it for all the world." Gra- 
 tiano, in excuse for his fault, now said, " My lord Bas- 
 sanio gave his ring away to the counsellor, and then 
 the boy, his clerk, that took some pains in writing, he 
 begged my ring." 485 
 
 Portia, hearing this, seemed very angry and re- 
 proached Bassanio for giving away her ring ; and she 
 said Nerissa had taught her what to believe, and tHat 
 she knew some woman had the ring. Bassanio was 
 very unhappy to have so offended his dear lady, and 49° 
 he said with great earnestness: "No, by my honor, no 
 woman had it, but a civil doctor, who refused three 
 thousand ducats of me, and begged the ring, which 
 when I denied him, he went displeased away. What 
 could I do, sweet Portia ? I was so beset with shame 49s 
 for my seeming ingratitude that I was forced to send 
 the ring after him. Pardon me, good lady ; had you 
 been there, I think you would have begged the ring of 
 me to give the worthy doctor." 
 
 " Ah !" said Antonio, " I am the unhappy cause of 500 
 these quarrels." 
 
 Portia bid Antonio not to grieve at that, for that he 
 was welcome notwithstanding; and then Antonio said: 
 
 1 Taller. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 109 
 
 " I once did lend my body for Bassanio's sake ; and 
 but for him to whom your husband gave the ring 1 505 
 should have now been dead. I dare be bound again, 
 my soul upon the forfeit, your lord will never more 
 break his word with you." "Then you shall be his 
 surety," said Portia; "give him this ring, and bid him 
 keep it better than the other." 510 
 
 When Bassanio looked at this ring he was strangely 
 surprised to find it was the same he gave away; and 
 then Portia told him how she was the young counsel- 
 lor and Nerissa was her clerk ; and Bassanio found, 
 to his unspeakable wonder and delight, that it was by 515 
 the noble courage and wisdom of his wife that Anto- 
 nio's life was saved. 
 
 And Portia again welcomed Antonio, and gave him 
 letters which by some chance had fallen into her hands, 
 which contained an account of Antonio's ships, that 520 
 were supposed lost, being safely arrived in the harbor. 
 So these tragical beginnings of this rich merchant's 
 story were all forgotten in the unexpected good fortune 
 which ensued; and there was leisure to laugh at the 
 comical adventures of the rings and the husbands that 525 
 did not know their own wives, Gratiano merrily swear- 
 ing, in a sort of rhyming speech, that 
 
 " — while he liv'd he'd fear no other thing 
 So sore ^ as keeping safe Nerissa's ring." 
 
 ^ Sorely, exceedingly. 
 
SYRACUSE. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 The states of Syracuse and Ephesus being at vari- 
 ance, there was a cruel law made at Ephesus, ordaining 
 that, if any merchant of Syracuse was seen in the city 
 of Ephesus, he was to be put to death unless he could 
 pay a thousand marks for the ransom of his life. 5 
 
 ^geon,* an old merchant of Syracuse, was discovered 
 ^ yE-ge'-on (g soft). 
 
THE COMEDY OE ERRORS. m 
 
 # 
 
 in the streets of Ephesus and brought before the duke, 
 either to pay this heavy fine or to receive sentence of 
 death. 
 
 ^geon had no money to pay the fine, and the duke, lo 
 before he pronounced the sentence of death upon him, 
 desired him to relate the history of his Hfe, and to tell 
 for what cause he had ventured to come to the city of 
 Ephesus, which it was death for any Syracusan mer- 
 chant to enter. 15 
 
 ^geon said that he did not fear to die, for sorrow 
 
 . had made him weary of his life, but that a heavier task 
 
 could not have been imposed upon him than to relate 
 
 the events of his unfortunate life. He then began his 
 
 own history, in the following words : 20 
 
 " I was born at Syracuse, and brought up to the pro- 
 fession of a merchant. I married a lady, with whom 
 I lived very happily, but being obliged to go to Epi- 
 damnium ' I was detained there by my business six 
 months, and then, finding I should be obliged to stay 25 
 some time longer, I sent for my wife, who, as soon as 
 she arrived, was brought to bed of ^ two sons, and, what 
 was very strange, they were both so exactly alike that 
 it was impossible to distinguish the one from the other. 
 At the same time that my wife was brought to bed of 30 
 these twin boys, a poor woman in the inn where my 
 wife lodged was brought to bed of two sons, and these 
 twins were as much like each other as my two sons 
 were. The parents of these children being exceeding 
 poor, I bought the two boys and brought them up to 35 
 attend upon my sons. 
 
 " My sons were very fine children, and my wife was 
 not a little proud of two such boys ; and she daily 
 ' Ep-l-dam'-nt-um. "^ Gave birth to. 
 
112 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 wishing to return home, I unwillingly agreed, and in 
 an evil hour we got on shipboard ; for we had not 40 
 sailed above a league from Epidamnium before a dread- 
 ful storm arose, which continued with such violence 
 that the sailors, seeing no chance of saving the ship, 
 crowded into the boat to save their own lives, leaving 
 us alone in the ship, which we every moment expected 4S 
 would be destroyed by the fury of the storm. 
 
 " The incessant weeping of my wife and the piteous 
 complaints of the pretty babes, who, not knowing what 
 to fear, wept for fashion because they saw their mother 
 weep, filled me with terror for them, though I did not 5° 
 for myself fear death; and all my thoughts were bent 
 to contrive means for their safety. I tied my youngest 
 son to the end of a small spare mast, such as seafaring 
 men provide against storms ; at the other end I bound 
 the youngest of the twin slaves, and at the same time 55 
 I directed my wife how to fasten the other children in 
 like manner to another mast. She thus having the 
 care of the two eldest children, and I of the two 
 younger, we bound ourselves separately to these masts 
 with the children ; and but for this contrivance we had 60 
 all been lost, for the ship split on a mighty rock and 
 was dashed in pieces; and we, clinging to these slen- 
 der masts, were supported above the water, where I, 
 having the care of two children, was unable to assist 
 my wife, who with the other children w^as soon sepa-65 
 rated from me. But while they were yet in my sight 
 they were taken up by a boat of fishermen, from Cor- 
 inth (as I supposed) ; and, seeing them in safety, I had 
 no care but to struggle with the wild sea waves, to 
 preserve my dear son and the youngest slave. At 70 
 length we in our turn were taken up by a ship, and 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 113 
 
 the sailors, knowing me, gave us kind welcome and 
 assistance, and landed us in safety at Syracuse ; but 
 from that sad hour I have never known what became 
 of my wife and eldest child. 75 
 
 " My youngest son, and now my only care, when he 
 was eighteen years of age began to be inquisitive after 
 his mother and his brother, and often importuned me 
 that he might take his attendant, the young slave who 
 had also lost his brother, and go in search of them. At 80 
 length I unwillingly gave consent ; for, though I anx- 
 iously desired to hear tidings of my wife and eldest son, 
 yet in sending my younger one to find them I hazarded 
 the loss of him also. It is now seven years since my 
 son left me ; five years have I passed in travelling 85 
 through the world in search of him. I have been in 
 farthest Greece, and through the bounds of Asia, and, 
 coasting homeward, I landed here in Ephesus, being 
 unwilling to leave any place unsought that harbors 
 men j but this day must end the story of my life, and 90 
 happy should I think myself in my death, if I were 
 assured my wife and sons were living." 
 
 Here the hapless ^geon ended the account of his 
 misfortunes ; and the duke, pitying this unfortunate 
 father, who had brought upon himself this great peril 95 
 by his love for his lost son, said, if it were not against 
 the laws, which his oath and dignity did not permit 
 him to alter, he would freely pardon him ; yet, instead 
 of dooming him to instant death, as the strict letter of 
 the law required, he would give him that day to try if 100 
 he could beg or borrow the money to pay the fine. 
 
 This day of grace did seem no great favor to ^geon, 
 for, not knowing any man in Ephesus, there seemed to 
 him but little chance that any stranger would lend or 
 
114 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 give him a thousand marks to pay the fine ; and, help- 105 
 less and hopeless of any relief, he retired from the 
 presence of the duke in the custody of a jailer. 
 
 ^geon supposed he knew no person in Ephesus; 
 but at the very time he was in danger of losing his 
 life through the careful search he was making after no 
 his youngest son, that son and his eldest son also 
 were both in the city of Ephesus. 
 
 ^geon's sons, besides being exactly alike in face and 
 person, were both named alike, being both called An- 
 tipholus,^ and the two twin slaves were also both named "s 
 Dromio.^ ^geon's youngest son, Antipholus of Syra- 
 cuse, he whom the old man had come to Ephesus to 
 seek, happened to arrive at Ephesus with his slave 
 Dromio that very same day that ^geon did ; and he 
 being also a merchant of Syracuse, he would have been 120 
 in the same danger that his father was, but by good 
 fortune he met a friend who told him the peril an old 
 merchant of Syracuse was in, and advised him to pass 
 for a merchant of Epidamnium ; this Antipholus agreed 
 to do, and he was sorry to hear one of his own country- 125 
 men was in this danger, but he little thought this old 
 merchant was his own father. 
 
 The eldest son of ^geon (who must be called An- 
 tipholus of Ephesus, to distinguish him from his brother 
 Antipholus of Syracuse) had lived at Ephesus twenty 130 
 years and, being a rich man, was well able to have paid 
 the money for the ransom of his father's life ; but An- 
 tipholus knew nothing of his father, being so young 
 when he was taken out of the sea with his mother by 
 the fishermen that he only remembered he had been 135 
 so preserved, but he had no recollection of either his 
 ^ An-tiph'-o-lus. ^ Dro'-mi-o. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 115 
 
 father or his mother ; the fishermen who took up this 
 Antipholus and his mother and the young slave Dro- 
 mio having carried the two children away from her (to 
 the great grief of that unhappy lady), intending to sell 140 f 
 them. 
 
 SITE OF ANCIENT EPHESUS. 
 
Ii6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Antipholus and Dromio were sold by them to Duke 
 Menaphon/ a famous warrior, who was uncle to the 
 Duke of Ephesus, and he carried the boys to Ephesus . 
 when he went to visit the duke his nephew. 143 
 
 The Duke of Ephesus, taking a liking to young An- 
 tipholus, when he grew up, made him an officer in his 
 army, in which he distinguished himself by his great 
 bravery in the wars, where he saved the life of his 
 patron the duke, who rewarded his merit by marrying 150 
 him to Adriana,^ a rich lady of Ephesus ; with whom 
 he was living (his slave Dromio still attending him) at 
 the time his father came there. 
 
 Antipholus of Syracuse, when he parted with his 
 friend who advised him to say he came from Epidam-155 
 nium, gave his slave Dromio some money to carry to 
 the inn where he intended to dine, and in the mean- 
 time he said he would walk about and view the city 
 and observe the manners of the people. 
 
 Dromio was a pleasant fellow, and when Antipholus 160 
 was dull and melancholy he used to divert himself with 
 the odd humors and merry jests of his slave, so that the 
 freedoms of speech he allowed in Dromio were greater 
 than is usual between masters and their servants. 
 
 When Antipholus of Syracuse had sent Dromio away, 165 
 he stood awhile thinking over his solitary wanderings 
 in search of his mother and his brother, of whom in no 
 place where he landed could he hear the least tidings ; 
 and he said sorrowfully to himself: "I am like a drop 
 of water in the ocean, which, seeking to find its fellow- 170 
 drop, loses itself in the wide sea. So I unhappily, to 
 find a mother and a brother, do lose myself." 
 
 While he was thus meditating on his weary travels, 
 1 Men'-a-phon. "-^ A-drf-an'-a, 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. uy 
 
 which had hitherto been so useless, Dromio (as he 
 thought) returned. Antipholus, wondering that he came 175 
 back so soon, asked him where he had left the money. 
 Now it was not his own Dromio, but the twin brother 
 that lived with Antipholus of Ephesus, that he spoke 
 to. The two Dromios and the two Antipholuses were 
 still as much alike as ^geon had said they were in 180 
 their infancy; therefore no wonder Antipholus thought 
 it was his own slave returned, and asked him why he 
 came back so soon. Dromio replied: "My mistress 
 sent me to bid you come to dinner. The capon burns, 
 and the pig falls from the spit, and the meat will be all 185 
 cold if you do not come home." "These jests are out 
 of season," said Antipholus; "where did you leave the 
 money?" Dromio still answering that his mistress had 
 sent him to fetch Antipholus to dinner : " What mis- 
 tress ?" said Antipholus. " Why, your worship's wife, 190 
 sir," replied Dromio. Antipholus having no wife, he 
 was very angry with Dromio and said: "Because I 
 familiarly sometimes chat with you, you presume to jest 
 with me in this free manner. I am not in a sportive 
 humor now; where is the money? We beirtg strangers 19s 
 here, how dare you trust so great a charge from your 
 own custody?" Dromio, hearing his master, as he 
 thought him, talk of their being strangers, supposing 
 Antipholus was jesting, replied merrily, " I pray you, 
 sir, jest as you sit at dinner; I had no charge but to 200 
 fetch you home, to dine with my mistress and her 
 sister." Now Antipholus lost all patience, and beat 
 Dromio, who ran home and told his mistress that his 
 master had refused to come to dinner and said that 
 he had no wife. . 205 
 
 Adriana, the wife of Antipholus of Ephesus, was very 
 
Ii8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 angry when she heard that her husband said he had no 
 wife, for she was of a jealous temper; and she said her 
 husband meant that he loved another lady better than 
 herself, and she began to fret and say unkind words 210 
 of jealousy and reproach of her husband; and her sister 
 Luciana/ who lived with her, tried in vain to persuade 
 her out of her groundless suspicions. 
 
 Antipholus of Syracuse went to the inn and found 
 Dromio with the money in safety there, and, seeing his 215 
 own Dromio, he was going again to chide him for his 
 free jests when Adriana came up to him, and, not 
 doubting but it was her husband she saw, she began to 
 reproach him for looking strange upon her (as well he 
 might, never having seen this angry lady before) ; and 220 
 then she told him how well he loved her before they 
 were married, and that now he loved some other ladv 
 instead of her. " How comes it now, my husband," 
 said she — "O, how comes it that I have lost your 
 love?" "Plead you to me, fair dame.?" said the aston-225 
 ished Antipholus. It was in vain he told her he was 
 not her husband, and that he had been in Ephesus but 
 two hours. ' She insisted on his going home with her, and 
 Antipholus at last, being unable to get away, went with 
 her to his brother's house, and dined with Adriana and 230 
 her sister, the one calling him husband and the other 
 brother, he, all amazed, thinking he must have been 
 married to her in his sleep or that he was sleeping now. 
 And Dromio, who followed them, was no less surprised ; 
 for the cook -maid, who was his brother's wife, also 235 
 claimed him for her husband. 
 
 While Antipholus of Syracuse was dining with his 
 brother's wife, his brother, the real husband, returned 
 ^ Lii-ci-an'-a {c as s)i). 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 119 
 
 home to dinner with his slave Dromio, but his servants 
 would not open the door, because their mistress had or- 240 
 dered them not to admit any company ; and when they 
 repeatedly knocked, and said they were Antipholus and 
 Dromio, the maids laughed at them and said that An- 
 tipholus was at dinner with their mistress, and Dromio 
 was in the kitchen ; and, though they almost knocked 245 
 the door down, they could not gain admittance, and at 
 last Antipholus went away very angry and strangely sur- 
 prised at hearing a gentleman was dining with his wife. 
 
 When Antipholus of Syracuse had finished his dinner, 
 he was so perplexed at the lady's still persisting in call- 250 
 ing him husband, and at hearing that Dromio had also 
 been claimed by the cook-maid, that he left the house as 
 soon as he could find any pretence to get away ; for 
 though he was very much pleased with Luciana, the sis- 
 ter, yet the jealous-tempered Adriana he disliked very 255 
 much, nor was Dromio at all better satisfied with his 
 fair wife in the kitchen ; therefore both master and man 
 were glad to get away from their new wives as fast as 
 they could. 
 
 The moment Antipholus of Syracuse had left the 260 
 house he was met by a goldsmith, who, mistaking him, 
 as Adriana had done, for Antipholus of Ephesus, gave 
 him a gold chain, calling him by his name ; and when 
 Antipholus would have refused the chain, saying it did 
 not belong to him, the goldsmith replied he made it by 265 
 his own orders, and went away leaving the chain in the 
 hands of Antipholus, who ordered his man Dromio to 
 get his things on board a ship, not choosing to stay in 
 a place any longer where he met with such strange 
 adventures that he surely thought himself bewitched. 270 
 
 The goldsmith who had given the chain to the wrong 
 
I20 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 Antipholus was arrested immediately after for a sum of 
 money he owed ; and Antipholus, the married brother, 
 to whom the goldsmith thought he had given the chain, 
 happened to come to the place where the officer was 275 
 arresting the goldsmith, who, when he saw Antipholus, 
 asked him to pay for the gold chain he had just deliv- 
 ered to him, the price amounting to nearly the same 
 sum as that for which he had been arrested. Antipho- 
 lus denying the having received the chain, and the gold- 280 
 smith persisting to declare that he had but' a few minutes 
 before given it to him, they disputed this matter a long 
 time, both thinking they were right, for Antipholus knew 
 the goldsmith never gave him the chain, and, so like were 
 the two brothers, the goldsmith was as certain he had 285 
 delivered the chain into his hands, till at last the officer 
 took the goldsmith away to prison for the debt he owed, 
 and at the same time the goldsmith made the officer 
 arrest Antipholus for the price of the chain ; so that, 
 at the conclusion of their dispute, Antipholus and the 290 
 merchant were both taken away to prison together. 
 
 As Antipholus was going to prison, he met Dromio of 
 Syracuse, his brother's slave, and mistaking him for his 
 own he ordered him to go to Adriana his wife and tell 
 her to send the money for which he was arrested. Dromio 295 
 wondering that his master should send him back to the 
 strange house where he dined, and from which he had 
 just before been in such haste to depart, did not dare to 
 reply, though he came to tell his master the ship was 
 ready to sail ; for he saw Antipholus was in no humor 300 
 to be jested with. Therefore he went away, grumbling 
 within himself that he must return to Adriana's house, 
 " where," said he, " Dowsabel ^ claims me for a hus- 
 
 ' Dow'-sa-bel. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 121 
 
 band; but I must go, for servants must obey their 
 masters' commands." 30s 
 
 Adriana gave him the money, and as Dromio was re- 
 turning he met Antipholus of Syracuse, who was still in 
 amaze at the surprising adventures he met with; for, his 
 brother being well known in Ephesus,' there was hardly 
 a man he met in the streets but saluted him as an old 310 
 acquaintance. Some offered him money, which they said 
 was owing to him ; some invited him to come and see 
 them, and some gave him thanks for kindnesses they 
 said he had done them, all mistaking him for his brother. 
 A tailor showed him some silks he had bought for him, 315 
 and insisted upon taking measure of him for some 
 clothes. 
 
 Antipholus began to think he was among a nation of 
 sorcerers and witches, and Dromio did not at all relieve 
 his master from his bewildered thoughts by asking him 32° 
 how he got free from the officer who was carrying him 
 to prison, and giving him the purse of gold which Adri- 
 ana had sent to pay the debt with. This talk of Dro- 
 mio's of the arrest, and of a prison, and of the money 
 he 'had brought from Adriana, perfectly confounded An- 325 
 tipholus, and he said : " This fellow Dromio is certainly 
 distracted, and we wander here in illusions ;" and, quite 
 terrified at his own confused thoughts, he cried out, 
 " Some blessed power deliver us from this strange 
 place !" 330 
 
 And now another stranger came up to him, and she 
 was a lady, and she too called him Antipholus, and told 
 him he had dined with her that day, and asked him for 
 a gold chain which she said he had promised to give 
 her. Antipholus now lost all patience, and, calling her 33s 
 a sorceress, he denied that he had ever promised her a 
 
122 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 chain, or dined with her, or had even seen her face be- 
 fore that moment. The lady persisted in affirming he 
 had dined with her and had promised her a chain, 
 which Antipholus still denying, she further said that she 340 
 had given him a valuable ring, and if he would not give 
 her the gold chain she insisted upon having her own 
 ring again. On this Antipholus became quite frantic, 
 and, again calling her sorceress and witch, and denying 
 all knowledge of her or her ring, ran away from her, 34s 
 leaving her astonished at his words and his wild looks ; 
 for nothing to her appeared more certain than that he 
 had dined with her, and that she had given him a ring, 
 in consequence of his promising to make her a present 
 of a gold chain. But this lady had fallen into the same 350 
 mistake the others had done, for she had taken him for 
 his brother. The married Antipholus had done all the 
 things she taxed this Antipholus with. 
 
 When the married Antipholus was denied entrance 
 into his own house (those within supposing him to be 355 
 already there), he had gone away very angry, believing 
 it to be one of his wife's jealous freaks, to which she 
 was very subject; and, remembering that she had often 
 falsely accused him of visiting other ladies, he, to be re- 
 venged on her for shutting him out of his own house, 360 
 determined to go and dine with this lady; and she re- 
 ceiving him with great civility, and his wife having so 
 highly offended him, Antipholus promised to give her a 
 gold chain which he had intended as a present for his 
 wife: it was the same chain which the goldsmith by 365 
 mistake had given to his brother. The lady liked so 
 well the thoughts of having a fine gold chain that she 
 gave the married Antipholus a ring ; which when, as 
 she supposed (taking his brother for him), he denied, 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 123 
 
 and said he did not know her, and left her in such a 370 
 wild passion, she began to think he was certainly out 
 of his senses ; and presently she resolved to go and 
 tell Adriana that her husband was mad. And while 
 she was telling it to Adriana, he came, attended by 
 the jailer (who allowed him to come home to get the 375 
 money to pay the debt), for the purse of money which 
 Adriana had sent by Dromio, and he had delivered 
 to the other Antipholus. 
 
 Adriana believed the story the lady told her of her 
 husband's madness must be true when he reproached 3S0 
 her for shutting him out of his own house; and remem- 
 bering how he had protested all dinner-time that he 
 was not her husband, and had never been in Ephesus 
 till that day, she had no doubt that he was mad. She 
 therefore paid the jailer the money; and, having dis-385 
 charged him, she ordered her servants to bind her hus- 
 band with ropes, and had him conveyed into a dark 
 room and sent for a doctor to come and cure him of 
 his madness, Antipholus all the while hotly exclaiming 
 against this false accusation, which the exact likeness 39° 
 he bore to his brother had brought upon him. But his 
 rage only the more confirmed them in the belief that 
 he was mad ; and Dromio persisting in the same story, 
 they bound him also, and took him away along with 
 his master. 395 
 
 Soon after Adriana had put her husband into con- 
 finement, a servant came to tell her that Antipholus 
 and Dromio must have broken loose from their keep- 
 ers, for that they were both walking at liberty in the 
 next street. On hearing this, Adriana ran out to fetch 400 
 him home, taking some people with her to secure her 
 husband again ; and her sister went along with her. 
 
124 ^^^^-S- FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES, 
 
 When they came to the gates of a convent in their 
 neighborhood, there they saw Antipholus and Dromio, 
 as they thought, being again deceived by the likeness 405 
 of the twin brothers. 
 
 Antipholus of Syracuse was still beset with the per- 
 plexities this likeness had brought upon him. The 
 chain which the goldsmith had given him was about 
 his neck, and the goldsmith was reproaching him for 41° 
 denying that he had it and refusing to pay for it, and 
 Antipholus was protesting that the goldsmith freely 
 gave him the chain in the morning, and that from that 
 hour he had never seen the goldsmith again. 
 
 And now Adriana came up to him and claimed him 415 
 as her lunatic husband, who had escaped from his 
 keepers, and the men she brought with her were going 
 to lay violent hands on Antipholus and Dromio ; but 
 they ran into the convent, and Antipholus begged the 
 abbess to give him shelter in her house. ' 420 
 
 And now came out the lady abbess herself to inquire 
 into the cause of this disturbance. She was a grave 
 and venerable lady and wise to judge of what she saw, 
 and she would not too hastily give up the man who had 
 sought protection in her house; so she strictly ques-425 
 tioned the wife about the story she told of her hus- 
 band's madness, and she said: "What is the cause of 
 this sudden distemper of your husband's ? Has he lost 
 his wealth at sea? or is it the death of some dear friend 
 that has disturbed his mind?" Adriana replied that 43° 
 no such things as these had been the cause. " Per- 
 haps," said the abbess, " he has fixed his affections on 
 some other lady than you, his wife, and that has driven 
 him to this state." Adriana said she had long thought 
 the love of some other lady was the cause of his fre- 43s 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 125 
 
 quent absences from home. Now it was not his love 
 for another, but the teasing jealousy of his wife's tem- 
 per, that often obliged Antipholus to leave his home ; 
 and, the abbess suspecting this from the vehemence of 
 Adriana's manner, to learn the truth she said, "You 440 
 should have reprehended^ him for this." "Why, so I 
 did," replied Adriana. "Ay," said the abbess, "but 
 perhaps not enough." Adriana, willing to convince the 
 abbess that she had said enough to Antipholus on this 
 subject, replied: "It was the constant subject of our 445 
 conversation. In bed, 1 would not let him sleep for 
 speaking of it. At table, I would not let him eat for 
 speaking of it. When I was alone with him I talked 
 of nothing else \ and in company I gave him frequent 
 hints of it. Still all my talk was how vile and bad it 450 
 was in him to love any lady better than me." 
 
 The lady abbess, having drawn this full confession 
 from the jealous Adriana, now said: " And therefore 
 comes it that your husband is mad. The venomous 
 clamor of a jealous woman is a more deadly poison 455 
 than a mad dog's tooth. It seems his sleep was hin- 
 dered by your railing; no wonder that his head is light : 
 and his meat was sauced with your upbraidings ; un- 
 quiet meals make ill digestions, and that has thrown 
 him into this fever. You say his sports were disturbed 460 
 by your brawls ; being debarred^ from the enjoyment 
 of society and recreation, what could ensue but dull 
 melancholy and comfortless despair? The consequence 
 is, then, that your jealous fits have made your husband 
 mad." 465 
 
 Luciana would have excused her sister, saying she 
 always reprehended her husband mildly ; and she said 
 ^ Reproved. ^ Shut out. 
 
126 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 to her sister, "Why do you hear these rebukes without 
 answering them ?" But the abbess had made her so 
 plainly perceive her fault that she could only answer, 470 
 " She has betrayed me to my own reproof." 
 
 Adriana, though ashamed of her own conduct, still 
 insisted on having her husband delivered up to her; but 
 the abbess would suffer no person to enter her house, 
 nor would she deliver up this unhappy man to the care 475 
 of the jealous wife, determining herself to use gentle 
 means for his recovery, and she retired into her house 
 again and ordered her gates to be shut against them. 
 
 During the course of this eventful day in which so 
 many errors had happened from the likeness the twin 480 
 brothers bore to each other, old yEgeon's day of grace 
 was passing away, it being now near sunset ; and at 
 sunset he was doomed to die, if he could not pay the 
 money. 
 
 The place of his execution was near this convent, 485 
 and here he arrived just as the abbess retired into the 
 convent; the duke attending in person, that if any of- 
 fered to pay the money he might be present to pardon 
 him. 
 
 Adriana stopped this melancholy procession, and 49° 
 cried out to the duke for justice, telling him that the 
 abbess had refused to deliver up her lunatic husband 
 to her care. While she was speaking, her real husband 
 and his servant Dromio, who had got loose, came before 
 the duke to demand justice, complaining that his wife 495 
 had confined him on a false charge of lunacy, and 
 telling in what manner he had broken his bands and 
 eluded the vigilance of his keepers. Adriana was 
 strangely surprised to see her husband, when she 
 thought he had been within the convent. 5°° 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 127 
 
 ^geon, seeing his son, concluded this was the son 
 who had left him to go in search of his mother and his 
 brother ; and he felt secure that this dear son would 
 readily pay the money demanded for his ransom. He 
 therefore spoke to Antipholus in words of fatherly af-sos 
 fection, with joyful hope that he should now be released. 
 But, to the utter astonishment of ^geon, his son denied 
 all knowledge of him, as well he might, for this Antiph- 
 olus had never seen his father since they were sepa- 
 rated in the storm in his infiincy ; but while the poor 510 
 old u^geon was in vain endeavoring to make his son 
 acknowledge him, thinking surely that either his griefs 
 and the anxieties he had suffered had so strangely 
 altered him that his son did not know him, or else that 
 he was ashamed to acknowledge his father in his mis- 515 
 ery, in the midst of this perplexity the lady abbess and 
 the other Antipholus and Dromio came out, and the 
 wondering Adriana saw two husbands and two Dromios 
 standing before her. 
 
 And now these riddling^ errors, which had so per- 520 
 plexed them all, were clearly made out. When the 
 duke saw the two Antipholuses and the two Dromios 
 both so exactly alike, he at once conjectured aright of 
 these seeming mysteries, for he remembered the story 
 -^geon had told him in the morning; and he said these 525 
 men must be the two sons of ^^Lgeon and their twin 
 slaves. 
 
 But now an unlooked-for joy indeed completed the 
 history of yEgeon ; and the tale he had in the morning 
 told in sorrow, and under sentence of death, before the 53° 
 setting sun went down was brought to a happy con- 
 clusion ; for the venerable lady abbess made herself 
 
 ^ Puzzling. 
 
128 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 known to be the long-lost wife of ^geon and the fond 
 mother of the two Antipholuses. 
 
 When the fishermen took the eldest Antipholus and 535 
 Dromio away from her, she entered a nunnery, and by 
 her wise and virtuous conduct she was at length made 
 lady abbess of this convent; and in discharging the 
 rites of hospitality to an unhappy stranger she had 
 unknowingly protected her own son. 540 
 
 Joyful congratulations and affectionate greetings be- 
 tween these long-separated parents and their children 
 made them for a while forget that ^geon was yet under 
 sentence of death \ but when they were become a lit- 
 tle calm Antipholus of Ephesus offered the duke the 545 
 ransom-money for his father's life, but the duke freely 
 pardoned ^geon and would not take the money. And 
 the duke went with the abbess and her newly found 
 husband and children into the convent, to hear this 
 happy family discourse at leisure of the blessed ending 550 
 of their adverse fortunes. And the two Dromios' hum- 
 ble joy must not be forgotten ; they had their congrat- 
 ulations and greetings too, and each Dromio pleasantly 
 complimented his brother on his good looks, being well 
 pleased to see his own person (as in a glass) show so 555 
 handsome in his brother. 
 
 Adriana had so well profited by the good counsel of 
 her mother-in-law that she never after cherished unjust 
 suspicions or was jealous of her husband. 
 
 Antipholus of Syracuse married the fair Luciana, 560 
 the sister of his brother's wife ; and the good old 
 ^geon, with his wife and sons, lived at Ephesus many 
 years. Nor did the unravelling of these perplexities so 
 entirely remove every ground of mistake for the future 
 but that sometimes, to remind them of adventures past, 565 
 
THE COMED V OF ERRORS. 
 
 T29 
 
 comical blunders would happen, and the one Antipho- 
 lus and the one Dromio be mistaken for the other, 
 making altogether a pleasant and diverting Comedy of 
 Errors. 
 
 REMAINS OF GATE AT EPHESUS. 
 
- ^ t h^ 
 
 SPALATRO, A CITY OF ILLYRIA. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Sebastian and his sister Viola/ a young gentleman 
 and lady of Messaline,'*' were twins, and (which was ac- 
 counted a great wonder) from their birth they so much 
 resembled each other that but for the difference in their 
 dress they could not be known apart. They were both 5 
 born in one hour, and in one hour they were both in 
 danger of perishing, for they were shipwrecked on the 
 coast of Illyria^ as they were making a sea-voyage to- 
 gether. The ship, on board of which they were, split 
 on a rock in a violent storm, and a very small number 10 
 of the ship's company escaped with their lives. The 
 
 J Vl'-o-la. See Notes. ^ Mes'-sa-line {i as in machine). 
 
 * Il-ly'-ri-a (/as in only). 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 131 
 
 captain of the vessel, with a few of the sailors that were 
 saved, got to land in a small boat, and with them they 
 brought Viola safe on shore, where she, poor lady, in- 
 stead of rejoicing at her own deliverance, began to 15 
 lament her brother's loss ; but the captain comforted 
 her with the assurance that he had seen her brother, 
 when the ship split, fasten himself to a strong mast, on 
 which, as long as he could see anything of him for the 
 distance, he perceived him borne up above the waves. 20 
 Viola was much consoled by the hope this account 
 gave her, and now considered how she was to dispose 
 of herself in a strange country, so far from home ; and 
 she asked the captain if he knew anything of Illyria. 
 " Ay, very well, madam," replied the captain, "for I was 25 
 born not three hours' travel from this place." "Who 
 governs here?" said Viola. The captain told her Illyria 
 was governed by Orsino,^ a duke noble in nature as 
 well as dignity. Viola said she had heard her father 
 speak of Orsino, and that he was unmarried then. " And 30 
 he is so now," said the captain ; "or was so very lately; 
 for but a month ago I went from here, and then it was 
 the general talk (as you know, what great ones do the 
 people will prattle of) that Orsino sought the love of 
 fair Olivia,^ a virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 35 
 who died twelve months ago, leaving Olivia to the pro- 
 tection of her brother, who shortly after died also ; and 
 for the love of this dear brother, they sa}^, she has ab- 
 jured the sight and company of men." Viola, who was 
 herself in such a sad affliction for her brother's loss, 4° 
 wished she could live wnth this lady, who so tenderly 
 mourned a brother's death. She asked the captain if 
 he could introduce her to Olivia, saying she would will- 
 ^ Or-si'-no (/ as in inackine\ "^ O-liv'-i-a, 
 
132 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES. 
 
 ingly serve this lady. But he replied this would be a 
 hard thing to accomplish, because the lady Olivia would 4S 
 admit no person into her house since her brother's 
 death, not even the duke himself. Then Viola formed 
 another project in her mind, which was, in a man's 
 habit,^ to serve the Duke Orsino as a page. It was a 
 strange fancy in a young lady to put on male attire 5° 
 and pass for a boy ; but the forlorn and unprotected 
 state of Viola, who was young and of uncommon beauty, 
 alone, and in a foreign land, must plead her excuse. 
 
 She, having observed a fair behavior in the captain, 
 and that he showed a friendly concern for her welfare, 55 
 intrusted him with her design, and he readily engaged 
 to assist her. Viola gave him money, and directed him 
 to furnish her with suitable apparel, ordering her clothes 
 to be made of the same color and in the same fashion 
 her brother Sebastian used to wear; and when she 60 
 was dressed in her manly garb she looked so exactly 
 like her brother that some strange errors happened by 
 means of their being mistaken for each other; for, as 
 will afterward appear, Sebastian was also saved. 
 
 Viola's good friend, the captain, when he had trans- 65 
 formed this pretty lady into a gentleman, having some 
 interest at court, got her presented to Orsino, under 
 the feigned name of Cesario.^ The duke was wonder? 
 fully pleased with the address and graceful deportment 
 of this handsome youth, and made Cesario one of his 7° 
 pages, that being the office Viola wished to obtain ; and 
 she so well fulfilled the duties of her new station and 
 showed such a ready observance^ and faithful attach- 
 ment to her lord that she soon became his most favored 
 attendant. To Cesario Orsino confided the whole his-7S 
 
 ^ Dress. '^ Ce-sa'-rf-o {a as in ah). ^ Obedience. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 "^ZTi 
 
 tory of his love for the lady Olivia. To Cesario he 
 told the long and unsuccessful suit he had made to 
 one who, rejecting his long services and despising his 
 person, refused to admit him to her presence ; and for 
 the love of this lady who had so unkindly treated him, 80 
 the noble Orsino, forsaking the sports of the field and 
 all manly exercises in which he used to delight, passed 
 his hours in ignoble sloth, listening to the eifeminate^ 
 sounds of soft music, gentle airs, and passionate love- 
 songs j and, neglecting the company of the wise and 85 
 learned lords with whom he used to associate, he was 
 now all day long conversing with young Cesario. Un- 
 meet companion no doubt his grave courtiers thought 
 Cesario was for their once noble master, the great Duke 
 Orsino. 90 
 
 It is a dangerous matter for young maidens to be 
 the confidantes^ of handsome young dukes, which Viola 
 too soon found to her sorrow, for all that Orsino told 
 her he endured for Olivia she presently perceived she 
 sufiered for the love of him ; and much it moved her 95 
 wonder that Olivia could be so regardless of this her 
 peerless lord and master, whom she thought no one 
 should behold without the deepest admiration, and she 
 ventured gently to hint to Orsino that it was pity he 
 should affect a lady who was so blind to his worthy 100 
 qualities ; and she said, " If a lady were to love you, 
 my lord, as you love Olivia (and perhaps there may 
 be one who does), if you could not love her in return, 
 would you not tell her that you could not love, and 
 must not she be content with this answer?" But Orsino 105 
 would not admit of this reasoning, for he denied that 
 it was possible for any woman to love as he did. He 
 
 •^ Womanish. ' Persons confided in (French and feminine). 
 
134 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES, 
 
 said no woman's heart was big enough to hold so much 
 love, and therefore it was unfair to compare the love 
 of any lady for him to his love for Olivia. Now, though no 
 Viola had the utmost deference' for the duke's opin- 
 ions, she could not help thinking this was not quite 
 true, for she thought her heart had full as much love 
 in it as Orsino's had; and she said, "Ah, but I know, 
 my lord — " "What do you know, Cesario?" said Or- 115 
 sino. "Too well I know," replied Viola, "what love 
 women may owe to men. They are as true of heart 
 as we are. My father had a daughter loved a man, as 
 I perhaps, were I a woman, should love your lordship." 
 " And what is her history ?" said Orsino. " A blank, 120 
 my lord," replied Viola \ " she never told her love, but 
 let concealment, like a worm in the bud, prey on her 
 damask cheek. She pined in thought, and with a green 
 and yellow melancholy she sat like Patience on a 
 monument, smiling at grief." The duke inquired if this 125 
 lady died of her love, but to this question Viola returned 
 an evasive answer ; as probably she had feigned the 
 story, to speak words expressive of the secret love and 
 silent grief she suffered for Orsino. 
 
 While they were talking, a gentleman entered whom 130 
 the duke had sent to Olivia, and he said, " So please 
 you, my lord, I might not be admitted to the lady, but 
 by her handmaid she returned you this answer : ' Until 
 seven years hence the element^ itself shall not behold 
 her face; but like a cloistress^ she will walk veiled, 135 
 watering her chamber with her tears for the sad remem- 
 brance of her dead brother.'" On hearing this, the 
 duke exclaimed, "O, she that has a heart of this fine 
 frame, to pay this debt of love to a dead brother, how 
 
 ^ Regard, respect. '^ Air, sky. See Notes. ^ Nun. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 135 
 
 will she love when the rich, golden shaft has touched 140 
 her heart !" And then he said to Viola : " You know, 
 Cesario, I have told you all the secrets of my heart ; 
 therefore, good youth, go to Olivia's house. Be not 
 denied access ; stand at her doors, and tell her there 
 your fixed foot shall grow till . you have audience." ^ 145 
 " And if I do speak to her, my lord, what then ?" said 
 Viola. "O, then," replied Orsino, "unfold to her the 
 passion of my love ! Make a long discourse to her of 
 my dear faith. It will well become you to act my woes, 
 for she will attend more to you than to one of graver 150 
 aspect." 
 
 Away then went Viola j but not willingly did she 
 undertake this courtship, for she was to woo a lady to 
 become a wife to him she wished to marry ; but, having 
 undertaken the affair, she performed it with fidelity^ 155 
 and Olivia soon heard that a youth was at her door 
 who insisted upon being admitted to her presence. " I 
 told him," said the servant, " that you were sick : he 
 said he knew you were, and therefore he came to speak 
 with you. I told him that you were asleep : he seemed 160 
 to have a foreknowledge of that too, and said that there- 
 fore he must speak with you. What is to be said to 
 him, lady ? for he seems fortified against all denial, and 
 will speak with you, whether you will or no." Olivia, 
 curious to see who this peremptory'^ messenger might 165 
 be, desired he might be admitted, and, throwing her 
 veil over her face, she said she would once more hear 
 Orsino's embassy;' not doubting but that he came 
 from the duke, by his importunity. Viola, .entering, put 
 on the most manly air she could assume, and, affecting 170 
 the fine courtier's language of great men's pages, she 
 
 ' Hearing. ' Resolute, determined. ' Message. 
 
136 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 said to the veiled lady : " Most radiant, exquisite, and 
 matchless beauty, I pray you tell me if you are the 
 lady of the house, for I should be sorry to cast away 
 my speech upon another ; for, besides that it is excel- 175 
 lently well penned, I have taken great pains to learn 
 it." " Whence come you, sir ?" said Olivia. " I can 
 say little more than I have studied," replied Viola ; 
 "and that question is out of my part." "Are you a 
 comedian ?" ' said Olivia, " No," replied Viola ; " and 180 
 yet I am not that which I play ;" meaning that she, 
 being a woman, feigned herself to be a man. And 
 again she asked Olivia if she were the lady of the 
 house j Olivia said she was ; and then Viola, having 
 more curiosity to see her rival's features than haste to 185 
 deliver her master's message, said, "Good madam, let 
 me see your face." With this bold request Olivia was 
 not averse to comply ; for this haughty beauty, whom 
 the Duke Orsino had loved so long in vain, at first 
 sight conceived a passion for the supposed page, the 190 
 humble Cesario. 
 
 When Viola asked to see her face, Olivia said, 
 "Have you any commission'^ from your lord and mas- 
 ter to negotiate^ with my face?" and then, forgetting 
 her determination to go veiled for seven long years, 195 
 she drew aside her veil, saying, " But I will draw the 
 curtain and show the picture. Is it not well done ?" 
 Viola replied : " It is beauty truly mixed ; the red and 
 white upon your cheeks is by Nature's own cunning* 
 hand laid on. You are the most cruel lady living, if 200 
 you will lead these graces to the grave and leave the 
 world no copy." " O sir," replied Olivia, " I will not be 
 
 ' Actor of comedy. ^ Order, authority. 
 
 2 Do business. * Skilful. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 137 
 
 SO cruel! The world may have an inventory^ of my 
 beauty. As, item, two lips, indifferent^ red; item, two 
 gray eyes, with lids to them ; one neck, one chin, and 205 
 so forth. Were you sent here to praise ^ me ?" Viola 
 replied : " I see you what you are ; you are too proud, 
 but you are fair. My lord and master loves you. O, 
 such a love could but be recompensed, though you were 
 crowned the queen of beauty ; for Orsino loves you 210 
 with adoration and with tears, with^groans that thun- 
 der love and sighs of fire !" "Your lord," said Olivia, 
 "knows well my mind. I can not love him; yet I 
 doubt not he is virtuous ; I know him to be noble and 
 of high estate, of fresh and spotless youth. All voices 215 
 proclaim him learned, courteous, and valiant j yet I can 
 not love him : he might have taken his answer long 
 ago." " If I did love you as my master does," said 
 Viola, " I would make me a willow cabin at your gates, 
 and call upon your name. I would write complaining 220 
 sonnets on Olivia, and sing them in the dead of the 
 night j your name should sound among the hills, and 
 I would make Echo, the babbling gossip of the air^ cry 
 out Olivia. O, you should not rest between the ele- 
 ments of earth and air, but you should pity me!" 225 
 " You might do much," said Olivia ; " what is your 
 parentage ?" Viola replied, " Above my fortunes, yet 
 my state is well : I am a gentleman." Olivia now reluc- 
 tantly dismissed Viola, saying, " Go to your master and 
 tell him I can not love him. Let him send no more, 230 
 unless perchance you come again to tell me how he 
 takes it." And Viola departed, bidding the lady fare- 
 well by the name of Fair Cruelty. When she was gone, 
 Olivia repeated the words. Above my fortunes, yet my 
 ' List, '^ Rather, somewhat (adverb). ^ Appraise. 
 
138 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 state is well: I am a gentleman; and she said aloud, 235 
 " I will be sworn he is ; his tongue, his face, his limbs, 
 action, and spirit, plainly show he is a gentleman." 
 And then she wished Cesario was the duke ; and per- 
 ceiving the fast hold he had taken on her affections, 
 she blamed herself for her sudden love; but the gentle 240 
 blame which people lay upon their own faults has no 
 deep root ; and presently the noble lady Olivia so far 
 forgot the inequality between her fortunes and those 
 of this seeming page, as well as the maidenly reserve 
 which is the chief ornament of a lady's character, that 245 
 she resolved to court the love of young Cesario, and 
 sent a servant after him with a diamond ring, under the 
 pretence that he had left it with her as a present from 
 Orsino. She hoped, by thus artfully making Cesario 
 a present of the ring, she should give him some inti-250 
 mation ' of her design ; and truly did it make Viola 
 suspect; for, knowing that Orsino had sent no ring 
 by her, she began to recollect that Olivia's looks and 
 manners were expressive of admiration, and she pres- 
 ently guessed her master's mistress had fallen in love 255 
 with her. " Alas !" said she, " the poor lady might as 
 well love a dream. Disguise, I see, is wicked, for it 
 has caused Olivia to breathe as fruitless sighs for me 
 as I do for Orsino." 
 
 Viola returned to Orsino's palace, and related to her 260 
 lord the ill success^ of the negotiation, repeating the 
 command of Olivia that the duke should trouble her 
 no more. Yet still the duke persisted in hoping that 
 the gentle Cesario would in time be able to persuade 
 her to show some pity, and therefore he bid him he 265 
 should go to her again the next day. In the mean- 
 ' Hint. ^ Issue, result. See N'otes. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 139 
 
 h -s, \ 
 
 
 "/ . 
 
 time, to pass away the tedious interval, he commanded 
 a song which he loved to be sung ; and he said : " My 
 good Cesario, when I heard that song last night, 
 methought it did relieve my passion much. Mark it, 270 
 Cesario, it is old and plain. The spinsters^ and the 
 knitters when they sit in the sun, and the young maids 
 ' Female spinners. See Notes, 
 
140 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES. 
 
 that weave their thread with bone, chant this song. It 
 is silly, yet I love it, for it tells of the innocence of 
 love in the old times." 275 
 
 SONG. 
 
 " Come away, come away, death. 
 
 And in sad cypress ^ let me be laid ; 
 Fly away, fly away, breath ; 
 
 I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
 My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 280 
 
 O, prepare it ! 
 My part of death, no one so true 
 Did share it. 
 
 Not a flower, not a flower sweet. 
 
 On my black coffin let there be strown ; 285 
 
 Not a friend, not a friend greet 
 
 My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. 
 A thousand thousand sighs to save. 
 
 Lay me, O, where 
 Sad true lover never find my grave, 290 
 
 To weep there !" 
 
 Viola did not fail to mark the words of the old song, 
 which in such true simplicity described the pangs of 
 unrequited'* love, and she bore testimony in her coun- 
 tenance of feeling what the song expressed. Her sad 295 
 looks were observed by Orsino, who said to her, " My 
 life upon it, Cesario, though you are so young, your 
 eye has looked upon some face that it loves; has it 
 not, boy ?" " A little, with your leave," replied Viola. 
 "And what kind of woman, and of what age is she?"3oo 
 said Orsino. "Of your age, and of your complexion, 
 my lord," said Viola j which made the duke smile to 
 hear this fair young boy loved a woman so much older 
 ^ See Notes. ' Not returned. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 141 
 
 than himself, and of a man's dark complexion ; but 
 Viola secretly meant Orsino, and not a woman like 30s 
 him. 
 
 When Viola made her second visit to Olivia, she 
 found no difficulty in gaining access to her. Servants 
 soon discover when their ladies delight to converse 
 with handsome young messengers; and the instant 3^0 
 Viola arrived the gates were thrown wide open, and 
 the duke's page was shown into Olivia's apartment 
 with great respect ; and when Viola told Olivia that 
 she was come once more to plead in her lord's behalf 
 this lady said, " I desired you never to speak of him 315 
 again; but, if you would undertake another suit, I had 
 rather hear you solicit than music from the spheres." ^ 
 This was pretty plain speaking, but Olivia soon ex- 
 plained herself still more plainly and openly confessed 
 her love ; and when she saw displeasure with perplexity 320 
 expressed in Viola's face, she said: "O, what a deal 
 of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of 
 his lip ! Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maid- 
 hood, honor, and by truth, I love you so, that, in spite 
 of your pride, I have neither wit^ nor reason to con- 32s 
 ceal my passion." But in vain the lady wooed. Viola 
 hastened from her presence, threatening never more to 
 come to plead Orsino's love ; and all the reply she 
 made to Olivia's fond solicitations^ was a declaration 
 of a resolution Never to love any woman. 330 
 
 No sooner had Viola left the lady than a claim was 
 made upon her valor. A gentleman, a rejected suitor 
 of Olivia, who had learned how that lady had favored 
 the duke's messenger, challenged him to fight a duel. 
 
 * Stars, heavens. See Notes. ^ Wisdom. 
 
 ^ Entreaties, wooing. 
 
142 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 What should poor Viola do, who, though she carried a 335 
 manlike outside, had a true woman's heart and feared 
 to look on her own sword. 
 
 When she saw her formidable^ rival advancing 
 toward her with his sword drawn, she began to think 
 of confessing that she was a woman; but she was re- 340 
 lieved at once from her terror and the shame of such 
 a discovery, by a stranger that was passing by, who 
 made^ up to them and, as if he had been long known to 
 her and were her dearest friend, said to her opponent, 
 " If this young gentleman has done offence, I will take 345 
 the fault on me; and if you offend him, I will for his 
 sake defy you." Before Viola had time to thank him 
 for his protection, or to inquire the reason of his kind 
 interference, her new friend niet with an enemy where 
 his bravery was of no use to him ; for the officers of 350 
 justice, coming up in that instant, apprehended^ the 
 stranger in the duke's name to answer for an offence 
 he had committed some years before ; and he said to 
 Viola, "This comes with seeking you;" and then he 
 asked her for a purse, saying, " Now my necessity makes 355 
 me ask for my purse, and it grieves me much more for 
 what I cannot do for you than for what befalls* my- 
 self. You stand amazed,^ but be of comfort." His 
 words did indeed amaze Viola, and she protested she 
 knew him not, nor had ever received a purse from him ; 360 
 but, for the kindness he had just shown her, she offered 
 him a small sum of money, being nearly the whole she 
 possessed. And now the stranger spoke severe things, 
 charging her with ingratitude and unkindness. He 
 said, "This youth whom you see here I snatched from 365 
 
 ' Fearful, * Came. ^ Arrested. ^ Happens to. 
 
 * Perplexed, bewildered. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 143 
 
 the jaws of death, and for his sake alone I came to 
 Illyria and have fallen into this danger." But the 
 officers cared little for hearkening to the complaints of 
 their prisoner, and they hurried him off, saying, "What 
 is that to us ?" And as he was carried away he called 37° 
 Viola by the name of Sebastian, reproaching the sup- 
 posed Sebastian for disowning his friend, as long as he 
 was within hearing. When Viola heard herself called 
 Sebastian, though the stranger was taken away too 
 hastily for her to ask an explanation, she conjectured ' 375 
 that this seeming mystery might arise from her being 
 mistaken for her brother, and she began to cherish 
 hopes that it was her brother whose life this man said 
 he had preserved. And so indeed it was. The stran- 
 ger, whose name was Antonio, was a sea-captain. He 380 
 had taken Sebastian up into his ship when, almost ex- 
 hausted with fatigue, he was floating on the mast to 
 which he had fastened himself in the storm. Antonio 
 conceived such a friendship for Sebastian that he re- 
 solved to accompany him whithersoever he went ; and 385 
 when the youth expressed a curiosity to visit Orsino's 
 court Antonio, rather than part from him, came to 
 Illyria, though he knew if his person should be known 
 there his life would be in danger, because in a sea-fight 
 he had once dangerously wounded the Duke Orsino's 390 
 nephew. This was the offence for which he was now 
 made a prisoner. 
 
 Antonio and Sebastian had landed together but a 
 few hours before Antonio met Viola. He had given 
 his purse to Sebastian, desiring^him to use it freely if 393 
 he saw anything he wished to purchase, telling him he 
 would wait at the inn while Sebastian went to view the 
 
 ' Guessed. 
 
144 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 town j but Sebastian not returning at the time appoint- 
 ed, Antonio had ventured out to look for him ; and 
 Viola being dressed the same, and in face so exactly 4°° 
 resembling her brother, Antonio drew his sword (as he 
 thought) in defence of the youth he had saved ; and 
 when Sebastian (as he supposed) disowned him and 
 denied him his own purse, no wonder he accused him 
 of ingratitude. 405 
 
 Viola, when Antonio was gone, fearing a second in- 
 vitation to fight, slunk home as fast as she could. She 
 had not been long gone,*when her adversary thought he 
 saw her return ; but it was her brother Sebastian who 
 happened to arrive at this place, and he said, " Now, 410 
 sir, have I met with you again ? There 's for you !" and 
 struck him a blow. Sebastian was no coward ; he re- 
 turned the blow with interest and drew his sword. 
 
 A lady now put a stop to this duel, for Olivia came 
 out of the house, and she, too, mistaking Sebastian for 41s 
 Cesario, invited him to come into her house, express- 
 ing much sorrow at the rude attack he had met with. 
 Though Sebastian was as much surprised at the cour- 
 tesy of this lady as at the rudeness of his unknown foe, 
 yet he went very willingly into the house, and Olivia 420 
 was delighted to find Cesario (as she thought him) be- 
 come more sensible of her attentions; for, though their 
 features were exactly the same, there was none of the 
 contempt and anger to be seen in his face which she 
 had complained of when she told her love to Cesario. 425 
 
 Sebastian did not at all object to the fondness the 
 lady lavished on him. He seemed to take it in very 
 good part, yet he wondered how it had come to pass, 
 and he was rather inclined to think Olivia was not in 
 her right senses; but perceiving that she was mistress 430 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT, 145 
 
 of a fine house, and that she ordered her affairs and 
 seemed to govern her family discreetly, and that in all 
 but her sudden love for him she appeared in the full 
 possession of her reason, he well approved of the court- 
 ship; and Olivia, finding Cesario in this good humor, 435 
 and fearing he might change his mind, proposed that, 
 as she had a priest in the house, they should be in- 
 stantly married. Sebastian assented to this proposal ; 
 and when the marriage ceremony was over he left his 
 lady for a short time, intending to go and tell his friend 44° 
 Antonio the good fortune that he had met with. In ' 
 the meantime Orsino came to visit Olivia; and at the 
 moment he arrived before Olivia's house the officers 
 of justice brought their prisoner, Antonio, before the 
 duke. Viola was with Orsino, her master ; and when 445 
 Antonio saw Viola, whom he still imagined to be Se- 
 bastian, he told the duke in what manner he had res- 
 cued this youth from the perils of the sea, and, after 
 fully relating all the kindness he had really shown to 
 Sebastian, he ended his complaint with saying that for 450 
 three months, both day and night, this ungrateful youth 
 had been with him. But now, the lady Olivia coming 
 forth from her house, the duke could no longer attend 
 to Antonio's story ; and he said : " Here comes the 
 countess ; now heaven walks on earth ! But for thee, 455 
 fellow, thy words are madness. Three months has this 
 youth attended on me." And then he ordered Antonio 
 to be taken aside. But Orsino's heavenly countess 
 soon gave the duke cause to accuse Cesario as much 
 of ingratitude as Antonio had done, for all the words 460 
 he could hear Olivia speak were words of kindness to 
 Cesario; and when he found his page had obtained this 
 high place in Olivia's favor he threatened him with all 
 10 
 
146 'TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 the terrors of his just revenge; and as he was going to 
 depart he called Viola to follow him, saying, " Come, 465 
 boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe^ for mischief." 
 Though it seemed in his jealous rage he was going to 
 doom Viola to instant death, yet her love made her no 
 longer a coward, and she said she would most joyfully 
 suffer death to give her master ease. But Olivia would 470 
 not so lose her husband, and she cried, "Where goes 
 my Cesario?" Viola replied, "After him I love more 
 than my life." Olivia, however, prevented their de- 
 parture by loudly proclaiming that Cesario was her 
 husband, and sent for the priest, who declared that not 475 
 two hours had passed since he had married the lady 
 Olivia to this young man. In vain Viola protested she 
 was not married to Olivia ; the evidence of that lady 
 and the priest made Orsino believe that his page had 
 robbed him of the treasure he prized above his life. 480 
 But, thinking it was past recall, he was bidding farewell 
 to his faithless mistress and the young dissembler^ her 
 husband, as he called Viola, warning her never to come 
 in his sight again, when (as it seemed to them) a mira- 
 cle appeared \ for another Cesario entered and addressed 485 
 Olivia as his wife. This new Cesario was Sebastian, 
 the real husband of Olivia; and when their wonder had 
 a little ceased at seeing two persons with the same face, 
 the same voice, and the same habit, the brother and 
 sister began to question each other, for Viola could 490 
 scarce be persuaded that her brother was living, and 
 Sebastian knew not how to account for the sister he 
 supposed drowned being found in the habit of a young 
 man. But Viola presently acknowledged that she was 
 indeed Viola and his sister, under that disguise. 495 
 
 - ^ Ready, eager. ^ Deceiver. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT 
 
 147 
 
 When all the errors were cleared up which the ex- 
 treme likeness between this twin brother and sister had 
 occasioned, they laughed at the lady Olivia for the 
 pleasant mistake she had made in falling in love with 
 a woman ; and Olivia showed no dislike to her ex- 500 
 
 " In vain Viola protested she was not married to Olivia." 
 
 change, when she found she had wedded the brother 
 instead of the sister. 
 
 The hopes of Orsino were forever at an end by this 
 marriage of Olivia, and with his hopes all his fruitless 
 love seemed to vanish away, and all his thoughts were 505 
 
148 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES, 
 
 fixed on the event * of his favorite, young Cesario, being 
 changed into a fair lady. He viewed Viola with great 
 attention, and he remembered how very handsome he 
 had always thought Cesario was, and he concluded she 
 would look very beautiful in a woman's attire; and then 51° 
 he remembered how often she had said she loved him,, 
 which at the time seemed only the dutiful expressions 
 of a faithful page, but now he guessed that something 
 more was meant, for many of her pretty sayings, which 
 were like riddles to him, came now into his mind, and 515 
 he no sooner remembered all these things than he re- 
 solved to make Viola his wife; and he said to her (he 
 still could not help calling her Cesario and boy)^ " Boy, 
 you have said to me a thousand times that you should 
 never love a woman like to me, and for the faithful 520 
 service you have done for me, so much beneath your 
 soft and tender breeding, and since you have called me 
 master so long, you shall now be your master's mis- 
 tress and Orsino's true duchess." 
 
 Olivia, perceiving Orsino was making over that heart 525 
 which she had so ungraciously rejected to Viola, invited 
 them to enter her house, and offered the assistance of 
 the good priest who had married her to Sebastian in 
 the morning, to perform the same ceremony in the re- 
 maining part of the day for Orsino and Viola. Thus 53° 
 the twin brother and sister were both wedded on the 
 same day ; the storm and shipwreck, which had sepa- 
 rated them, being the means of bringing to pass their 
 high and mighty fortunes. Viola was the wife of Or- 
 sino, the Duke of Illyria, and Sebastian the husband 535 
 of the rich and noble countess, the lady Olivia. 
 
 ' Result. 
 
TOWN-HOUSE, PADUA. 
 
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Katherine, the shrew, was the eldest daughter of 
 Baptista/ a rich gentleman of Padua. She was a lady 
 of such an ungovernable spirit and fiery temper, such 
 a loud-tongued scold, that she was known in Padua by 
 no other name than Katherine the Shrew. It seemed s 
 very unlikely, indeed impossible, that any gentleman 
 would ever be found who would venture to marry this 
 lady, and therefore Baptista was much blamed for de- 
 ferring his consent to many excellent offers that were 
 
 1 Bap-tis'-ta. 
 
150 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 made to her gentle sister Bianca,' putting off all Bian- lo 
 ca's suitors with this excuse, that when the eldest sister 
 was fairly off his hands they should have free leave to 
 address young Bianca. 
 
 It happened, however, that a gentleman named Pe- 
 truchio ^ came to Pa3ua purposely to look out for a 15 
 wife, who, nothing^ discouraged by these reports of 
 Katherine's temper, and hearing she was rich and hand- 
 some, resolved upon marrying this famous termagant* 
 and taming her into a meek and manageable wife. 
 And truly none was so fit to set about this herculean* 20 
 labor as Petruchio, whose spirit was as high as Kath- 
 erine's, and he was a witty and most happy-tempered 
 humorist, and withal so wise, and of such a true judg- 
 ment, that he well knew how to feign a passionate and 
 furious deportment, when his spirits were so calm that 25 
 himself could have laughed merrily at his own angry 
 feigning, for his natural temper was careless and easy; 
 the boisterous airs he assumed when he became the 
 husband of Katherine being but in sport, or, more 
 properly speaking, affected by his excellent discern- 3° 
 ment, as the only means to overcome in her own way 
 the passionate ways of the furious Katherine. 
 
 A-courting, then, Petruchio went to Katherine the 
 Shrew, and first of all he applied to Baptista, her father, 
 for leave to woo his gentle daughter Katherine, as Pe-35 
 truchio called her, saying archly ® that, having heard of 
 her bashful modesty and mild behavior, he had come 
 from Verona to solicit her love. Her father, though 
 he wished her married, was forced to confess Katherine 
 
 ^ Bi-an'-ca. ^ Pe-tru'-chi-o {ch as in chin). 
 
 ^ See p. 99, foot-note. * Scold, vixen. 
 
 * Arduous, See Notes. . ^ Jestingly. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 151 
 
 would ill answer this character, it being soon apparent 40 
 of what manner of gentleness she was composed, for 
 her music-master rushed into the room to complain that 
 the gentle Katherine, his pupil, had broken his head 
 with her lute for presuming to find fault with her per- 
 formance; which, when Petruchio heard, he said, "It 45 
 is a brave wench ^ ; I love her more than ever, and long 
 to have some chat with her ;" and, hurrying the old 
 gentleman for a positive answer, he said : " My business 
 is in haste, Signior^ Baptista : I cannot come every 
 day to woo. You knew my father. He is dead, and 50 
 has left me heir to all his lands and goods. Then tell 
 me, if I get your daughter's love, what dowry you will 
 give with her." Baptista thought his manner was 
 somewhat blunt for a lover ; but, being glad to get 
 Katherine married, he answered that he would give her ss 
 twenty thousand crowns for her dowry and half his 
 estate at his death ; so this odd match was quickly 
 agreed on, and Baptista went to apprise his shrewish 
 daughter of her lover's addresses, and sent her in to 
 Petruchio to listen to his suit. 60 
 
 In the meantime Petruchio was settling with him- 
 self the mode of courtship he should pursue ; and he 
 said : " I will woo her with some spirit when she comes. 
 If she rails at me, why then I will tell her she sings as 
 sweetly as a nightingale; and if she frowns, I will say 65 
 she looks as clear as roses newly washed with dew. 
 If she will not speak a word, I will praise the eloquence 
 of her language ; and if she bids me leave her, I will 
 give her thanks, as if she bid me stay with her a week." 
 Now the stately Katherine entered, and Petruchio first 7° 
 addressed her with " Good-morrow, Kate, for that is 
 
 ' A fine girl. See Notes. ^ Pronounced like senior. 
 
152 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 your name, I hear." Katherine, not liking tliis plain 
 salutation, said disdainfully, " They call me Katherine 
 who do speak to me." "You lie," replied the lover; 
 "for you are. called plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and n 
 sometimes Kate the Shrew ; but, Kate, you are the 
 prettiest Kate in Christendom, and therefore, Kate, 
 hearing your mildness praised in every town, I am 
 come to woo you for my wife." 
 
 A strange courtship they made of it \ she, in loud and 80 
 angry terms, showing him how justly she had gained 
 the name of shrew, while he still praised her sweet 
 and courteous words, till at length, hearing her father 
 coming, he said (intending to make as quick a wooing 
 as possible), "Sweet Katherine, let us set this idle chat 85 
 aside, for your father has consented that you shall be 
 my wife ; your dowry is agreed on, and, whether you 
 will or no, I will marry you." 
 
 And now Baptista entering, Petruchio told him his 
 daughter had received him kindly, and that she had 9° 
 promised to be married the next Sunday. This Kath- 
 erine denied, saying she would rather see him hanged 
 on Sunday, and reproached her father for wishing to 
 wed her to such a madcap ruffian as Petruchio. Pe- 
 truchio desired her father not to regard her angry 95 
 words, for they had agreed she should seem reluctant 
 before him, but that when they were alone he had 
 found her very fond and loving; and he said to her: 
 " Give me your hand, Kate ; I will go to Venice to buy 
 you fine apparel against our wedding -da3^ Provide 100 
 the feast, father, and bid the wedding -guests. I will 
 be sure to bring rings, fine array, and rich clothes, that 
 my Katherine may be fine ; and kiss me, Kate, for we 
 will be married on Sunday." 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 On the Sunday all the wedding-guests were assem- 105 
 bled, but they waited long before Petruchio came, and 
 Katherine wept for vexation to think that Petruchio 
 had only been making a jest of her. At last, however, 
 he appeared \ but he brought none of the bridal finery 
 he had promised Katherine, nor was he dressed him- no 
 self like a bridegroom, but in strange, disordered attire; 
 as if he meant to make a sport of the serious business 
 he came about, and his servant and the very horses on 
 which they rode were, in like manner, in mean and 
 fantastic fashion habited/ 115 
 
 Petruchio could not be persuaded to change his 
 dress : he said Katherine was to be married to him, 
 and not to his clothes, and, finding it was in vain to 
 * Dressed, equipped. 
 
154 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 argue with him, to the church they went, he still be- 
 having in the same mad way; for when the priest asked 120 
 Petruchio if Katherine should be his wife, he swore so 
 loud that she should, that, ail amazed, the priest let fall 
 his book, and as he stooped to take it up this mad- 
 brained bridegroom gave him such a cuff that down 
 fell the priest and his book again ; and all the while 125 
 they were being married he stamped and swore so that 
 the high-spirited Katherine trembled and shook with 
 fear. After the ceremony was over, while they were 
 yet in the church, he called for wine and drank a loud 
 health to the company, and threw a sop^ which was at 130 
 the bottom of the glass full in the sexton's face, giving 
 no other reason for this strange act than that the sex- 
 ton's beard grew thin and hungerly^ and seemed to 
 ask the sop as he was drinking. Never, sure, was there 
 such a mad marriage; but Petruchio did but put this 135 
 wildness on, the better to succeed in the plot he had 
 formed to tame his shrewish wife. 
 
 Baptista had provided a sumptuous marriage-feast, 
 but when they returned from church Petruchio, taking 
 hold of Katherine, declared his intention of carrying 140 
 his wife home instantly ; and no remonstrance of his 
 father-in-law, or angry words of the enraged Katherine, 
 could make him change his purpose ; he claimed a 
 husband's right to dispose of his wife as he pleased, 
 and away he hurried Katherine off, he seeming so fierce 14s 
 and resolute that no one dared attempt to stop him. 
 
 Petruchio mounted his wife upon a miserable horse, 
 lean and lank, which he had picked out for the purpose, 
 and, himself and his servant no better mounted, they 
 journeyed on through rough and miry ways, and ever 150 
 ' Soaked cake. ^ As if hungry. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 155 
 
 when this horse of Katherine's stumbled he would 
 storm and swear at the poor jaded beast, who could 
 scarce crawl under his burden, as if he had been the 
 most passionate man alive. 
 
 At length, after a weary journey, during which Kath- 155 
 erine had heard nothing but the wild ravings of Petru- 
 chio at the servant and the horses, they arrived at his 
 house. Petruchio welcomed her kindly to her home, 
 but he resolved she should have neither rest nor food 
 that night. The tables were spread, and supper soon 160 
 served ; but Petruchio, pretending to find fault with 
 every dish, threw the meat about the floor and or- 
 dered the servants to remove it away, and all this he 
 did, as he said, in love for his Katherine, that she might 
 not eat meat that was not well dressed.^ And when 165 
 Katherine, weary and supperless, retired to rest, he 
 found the same fault with the bed, throwing the pillows 
 and bedclothes about the room, so that she was forced 
 to sit down in a chair, where, if she chanced to drop 
 asleep, she was presently aw^akened by the loud voice 170 
 of her husband, storming at the servants for the ill- 
 making of his wife's bridal-bed. 
 
 The next day Petruchio pursued the same course, 
 still speaking kind words to Katherine, but, when she 
 attempted to eat, finding fault with everything that was 175 
 set before her, throwing the breakfast on the floor as 
 he had done the supper; and Katherine, the haughty 
 Katherine, was fain to beg the servants would bring 
 her secretly a morsel of food, but they, being instructed 
 by Petruchio, replied they dared not give her anything 180 
 unknown to their master. " Ah," said she, " did he 
 marry me to famish me ? Beggars that come to my 
 
 ^ Cooked. 
 
156 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 father's door have food given them. But I, who never 
 knew what it was to entreat for anything, am starved 
 for want of food, giddy for want of sleep, with oaths 185 
 kept waking and with brawling fed, and, that which 
 vexes me more than all, he does it under the name of 
 perfect love, pretending that, if I sleep or eat, it were 
 present ' death to me." Here her soliloquy was inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of Petruchio ; he, not meaning 190 
 that she should be quite starved, had brought her a 
 small portion of meat, and he said to her : " How fares 
 my sweet Kate ? Here, love, you see how diligent I 
 am; I have dressed your meat myself. I am sure this 
 kindness merits thanks. What, not a word.-* Nay, then, 195 
 you love not the meat, and all the pains I have taken 
 is to no purpose." He then ordered the servant to 
 take the dish away. Extreme hunger, which had abated 
 the pride of Katherine, made her say, though angered 
 to the heart, " I pray you, let it stand." But this was 200 
 not all Petruchio intended to bring her to, and he re- 
 plied, "The poorest service is repaid with thanks, and 
 so shall mine before you touch the meat." On this 
 Katherine brought out a reluctant "I thank you, sir." 
 And now he suffered her to make a slender meal, say- 205 
 ing: "Much good may it do your gentle heart, Kate! 
 eat apace.'^ And now, my honey love, we will return 
 to your father's house, and revel it as bravely as the 
 best, with silken coats and caps and golden rings, with 
 ruffs and scarfs and fans and double change of finery;" 210 
 and, to make her believe he really intended to give her 
 these gay things, he called in a tailor and a haber- 
 dasher,^ who brought some new clothes he had ordered 
 
 ^ See note on page 39, line 185. ' Fast, quick. 
 
 ^ Dealer in hats and caps. See Notes. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 157 
 
 for her, and then, giving her plate to the servant to 
 take away before she had half satisfied her hunger, he 215 
 said, " What, have you dined ?" The haberdasher pre- 
 sented a cap, saying, " Here is the cap your worship 
 bespoke ^ ;" on which Petruchio began to storm afresh, 
 saying the cap was moulded in a porringer," and that 
 it was no bigger than a cockle or a walnut shell, de-220 
 siring the haberdasher to take it away and make a 
 bigger. Katherine said, " I will have this ; all gentle- 
 women wear such caps as these." "When you are 
 gentle," replied Petruchio, "you shall have one too, and 
 not till then." The meat Katherine had eaten had a 225 
 little revived her fallen spirits, and she said : " Why, sir, 
 I trust I may have leave to speak, and speak I will. 
 I am no child, no babe ; your betters have endured to 
 hear me say my mind, and if you cannot you had 
 better stop your ears." Petruchio would not hear 230 
 these angry words, for he had happily discovered a 
 better way of managing his wife than keeping up a 
 jangling argument with her ; therefore his answer was, 
 " Why, you say true j it is a paltry cap, and I love you 
 for not liking it." "Love me or love me not," said 235 
 Katherine, " I like the cap, and I will have this cap or 
 none." "You say you wish to see the gown," said 
 Petruchio, still affecting to misunderstand her. The 
 tailor then came forward, and showed her a fine gown 
 he had made for her. Petruchio, whose intent was that 240 
 she should have neither cap nor gown, found as much 
 fault with that. " O, mercy, Heaven!" said he, "what 
 stuff is here? What! do you call this a sleeve? it is like 
 a demi-cannon,^ carved up and down like an apple- 
 tart." The tailor said, "You bid me make it according 24s 
 
 ' Ordered. - Porridge-dish. ^ A kind of cannon. 
 
158 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 to the fashion of the times ;" and Katherine said she 
 never saw a better-fashioned gown. This was enough 
 for Petruchio, and, privately desiring these people might 
 be paid for their goods, and excuses made to them 
 for the seemingly strange treatment he bestowed upon 250 
 them, he, with fierce words and furious gestures, drove 
 the tailor and the haberdasher out of the room ; and 
 then, turning to Katherine, he said, " Well, come, my 
 Kate, we will go to your father's even in these mean 
 garments we now wear." And then he ordered his 255 
 horses, affirming they should reach Baptista's house by 
 dinner-time, for that it was but seven o'clock. Now, 
 it was not early morning, but the very middle of the 
 day, when he spoke this ; therefore Katherine ventured 
 to say, though modestly, being almost overcome by the 260 
 vehemence of his manner, " I dare assure you, sir, it is 
 two o'clock, and will be supper- time before we get 
 there." But Petruchio meant that she should be so 
 completely subdued that she should assent to every- 
 thing he said before he carried her to her father; and 265 
 therefore, as if he were lord even of the sun and could 
 command the hours, he said it should be what time he 
 pleased to have it before he set forward ; " for," said 
 he, "whatever I say or do, you still are crossing it. I 
 will not go to-day, and when I go it shall be what 270 
 o'clock I say it is." Another day Katherine was forced 
 to practise her newly found obedience ; and not till he 
 had brought her proud spirit to such a perfect subjec- 
 tion that she dared not remember there was such a 
 word as contradiction would Petruchio allow her to go 275 
 to her father's house; and even while they were upon 
 their journey thither she was in danger of being turned 
 back again, only because she happened to hint it was 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 159 
 
 the sun when he affirmed the moon shone brightly at 
 noonday. " Now, by my mother's son," said he, " and 280 
 that is myself, it shall be the moon or stars or what I 
 list, before I journey to your father's house." He then 
 made as if he were going back again ; but Katherine, 
 no longer Katherine the Shrew, but the obedient wife, 
 said, " Let us go forward, I pray, now we have come so 285 
 far, and it shall be the sun or moon or what you 
 please; and if you please to call it a rush-candle hence- 
 forth, I vow it shall be so for me." This he was re- 
 solved to prove, therefore he said again, " I say it is 
 the moon." "I know it is the moon," replied Kather-290 
 ine. "You lie, it is the blessed sun," said Petruchio. 
 "Then it is the blessed sun," replied Katherine; "but 
 sun it is not when you say it is not. What you will 
 have it named, even so it is, and so it ever shall be 
 for Katherine." Now then he suffered her to proceed 295 
 on her journey; but further to try if this yielding humor 
 would last, he addressed an old gentleman they met on 
 the road as if he had been a young woman, saying to 
 him, " Good-morrow, gentle mistress;" and asked Kath- 
 erine if she had ever beheld a fairer gentlewoman, 300 
 praising the red and white of the old man's cheeks, 
 and comparing his eyes to two bright stars; and again 
 he addressed him, saying, " Fair, lovely maid, once 
 more good-day to you !" and said to his wife, " Sweet 
 Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake." The now 305 
 completely vanquished Katherine quickly adopted her 
 husband's opinion, and made her speech in like sort 
 to the old gentleman, saying to him: "Young budding 
 virgin, you are fair, and fresh, and sweet ; whither are 
 you going, and where is your dwelling? Happy are the 310 
 parents of so fair a child." "Why, how now, Kate?" 
 
i6o TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 said Petruchio ; " I hope you are not mad. This is a 
 man, old and wrinkled, faded and withered, and not a 
 maiden, as you say he is." On this Katherine said : 
 "Pardon me, old gentleman; the sun has so dazzled 315 
 my eyes that everything I look on seemeth green. Now 
 I perceive you are a reverend father ; I hope you will 
 pardon me for my mad mistake." " Do, good old 
 grandsire," said Petruchio, "and tell us which way you 
 are travelling. We shall be glad of your good com- 320 
 pany, if you are going our way." The old gentleman 
 replied : " Fair sir, and you, my merry mistress, your 
 strange encounter has much amazed me. My name is 
 Vincentio,^ and I am going to visit a son of mine who 
 lives at Padua." Then Petruchio knew the old gentle- 325 
 man to be the father of Lucentio,'^ a young gentleman 
 who was to be married to Baptista's younger daughter, 
 Bianca, and he made Vincentio very happy by telling 
 him the rich marriage his son was about to make; and 
 they all journeyed on pleasantly together till they came 330 
 to Baptista's house, where there was a large company 
 assembled to celebrate the wedding of Bianca and Lu- 
 centio, Baptista having willingly consented to the mar- 
 riage of Bianca when he had got Katherine off his hands. 
 
 When they entered, Baptista welcomed them to the 335 
 wedding-feast, and there was present also another new- 
 ly married pair. 
 
 Lucentio, Bianca's husband, and Hortensio,^ the other 
 new- married man, could not forbear sly jests, which 
 seemed to hint at the shrewish disposition of Petru- 340 
 chio's wife, and these fond bridegrooms seemed highly 
 pleased with the mild tempers of the ladies they had 
 
 ^ Vin-cen'-tio {tio as in ratio). - Lu-cen'-tio. 
 
 ^ Hor-ten'-sio {s as sJi). 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. i6i 
 
 chosen, laughing at Petruchio for his less fortunate 
 choice. Petruchio took little notice of their jokes till 
 the ladies were retired after dinner, and then he per- 345 
 ceived Baptista himself joined in the laugh against him; 
 for when Petruchio affirmed that his wife would prove 
 more obedient than theirs the father of Katherine said, 
 " Now, in good sadness,* son Petruchio, I fear you have 
 got the veriest shrew of all." " Well," said Petruchio, 350 
 "I say no; and therefore for assurance^ that I speak 
 the truth, let us each one send for his wife, and he 
 whose wife is most obedient to come at first when she 
 is sent for shall win a wager which w^e will propose." 
 To this the other two husbands willingly consented, 355 
 for they were quite confident that their gentle wives 
 would prove more obedient than the headstrong Kath- 
 erine, and they proposed a wager of twenty crowns; 
 but Petruchio merrily said he would lay^ as much as 
 that upon his hawk or hound, but twenty times as much 360 
 upon his wife. Lucentio and Hortensio raised the 
 wager to a hundred crowns, and Lucentio first sent 
 his servant to desire Bianca would come to him. But 
 the servant returned, and said, " Sir, my mistress sends 
 you word she is busy and cannot come." " How !" 36s 
 said Petruchio, "does she say she is busy and cannot 
 come? Is that an answer for a wife.'*" Then they 
 laughed at him, and said it would be well if Katherine 
 did not send him a worse answer. And now it was 
 Hortensio's turn to send for his wife ; and he said to 370 
 his servant, "Go, and entreat my wdfe to come to me." 
 "O, ho! entreat her!" said Petruchio. "Nay, then, 
 she needs must come." "I am afraid, sir," said Hor- 
 tensio, "your wife will not be entreated." But pres- 
 ^ In all seriousness. See Notes. ^ Proof. ^ Bet, stake. 
 
 II 
 
1 62 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 ently this civil husband looked a little blank, when the 37s 
 servant returned without his mistress ; and he said to 
 him, "How now! Where is my wife?" " Sir," said the 
 servant, "my mistress says you have some goodly jest 
 in hand, and therefore she will not come. She bids 
 you come to her." "Worse and worse!" said Petru-380 
 chioj and then he sent his servant, saying, "Sirrah, go 
 to your mistress, and tell her I command her to come 
 to me." The company had scarcely time to think she 
 would not obey this summons, when Baptista, all in 
 amaze, exclaimed, "Now, by my holidame,^ here comes 385 
 Katherine !" and she entered, saying meekly to Petru- 
 chio, " What is your will, sir, that you send for me ?" 
 "Where is your sister and Hortensio's wife?" said he. 
 Katherine replied, "They sit conferring^ by the parlor 
 fire." "Go, fetch them hither!" said Petruchio. Away 39° 
 went Katherine without reply to perform her husband's 
 command. "Here is a wonder," said Lucentio, "if you 
 talk of a wonder." "And so it is," said Hortensio ; 
 " I marvel what it bodes." ^ " Marry, peace it bodes," 
 said Petruchio, "and love, and quiet life, and right 395 
 supremacy,* and, to be short, everything that is sweet 
 and happy." Katherine's father, overjoyed to see this 
 reformation in his daughter, said, " Now, fair befall 
 thee,^ son Petruchio ! you have won the wager, and I 
 will add another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry, 400 
 as if she were another daughter, for she is changed as 
 if she had never been." " Nay," said Petruchio, " I 
 will win the wager better yet, and show more signs of 
 her new-built virtue and obedience." Katherine now 
 entering with the two ladies, he continued : " See where 405 
 
 ^ See Notes. ^ Conversing. ^ Foreshows, indicates. 
 
 * Rule, authority. * Good luck be yours. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 163 
 
 she comes, and brings your froward* wives as prisoners 
 to her womanly persuasion. Katherine, that cap of 
 yours does not become you ; off with that bauble, and 
 throw it under foot." Katherine instantly took off her 
 cap, and threw it down. "Lord!" said Hortensio's 410 
 wife, "may I never have a cause to sigh till I am 
 brought to such a silly pass !" And Bianca, she too 
 said, " Fie ! what foolish duty call you this ?" On this 
 Bianca's husband said to her, " I wish your duty were 
 as foolish too ! The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 415 
 has cost me a hundred crowns since dinner-time." 
 "The more fool you," said Bianca, "for laying* on my 
 duty." "Katherine," said Petruchio, "I charge you 
 tell these headstrong women what duty they owe their 
 lords and husbands." And, to the wonder of all pres-420 
 ent, the reformed shrewish lady spoke as eloquently in 
 praise of the wifelike duty of obedience as she had 
 practised it implicitly in a ready submission to Petru- 
 chio's will. And Katherine once more became famous 
 in Padua, not, as heretofore, as Katherine the Shrew, 425 
 but as Katherine the most obedient and duteous wife 
 in Padua. » 
 
 1 Unruly, disobedient. ^ Betting, laying a wager. 
 

 A SEAPORT IN SICILY. 
 
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Leontes/ King of Sicily, and his queen, the beauti- 
 ful and virtuous Hermione,^ once lived in the greatest 
 harmony together. So happy was Leontes in the love 
 of this excellent lady that he had no wish ungratified 
 except that he sometimes desired to see again, and tos 
 present to his queen, his old companion and school- 
 fellow, Polixenes,^ King of Bohemia. Leontes and Pol- 
 
 ^ Le-on'-tes {s as z). ^ Her-ml'-6-ne. 
 
 ^ P61-ix'-e-nes (s as z). 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE, 165 
 
 ixenes were brought up together from their infancy ; 
 but, being by the death of their fathers called to reign 
 over their respective kingdoms, they had not met for 10 
 many years, though they frequently interchanged gifts, 
 letters, and loving embassies. 
 
 At length, after repeated invitations, Polixenes came 
 from Bohemia to the Sicilian court, to make his friend 
 Leontes a visit. 15 
 
 At first this visit gave nothing but pleasure to Leon- 
 tes. He recommended the friend of his youth to the 
 queen's particular attention, and seemed, in the pres- 
 ence of his dear friend and old companion, to have his 
 felicity quite completed. They talked over old times; 20 
 their school -days and their youthful pranks were re- 
 membered and recounted to Hermione, who always took 
 a cheerful part in these conversations. 
 
 When, after a long stay, Polixenes was preparing to 
 depart, Hermione, at the desire of her husband, joined 25 
 her entreaties to his that Polixenes would prolong his 
 visit. 
 
 And now began this good queen's sorrow ; for Polix- 
 enes, refusing to stay at the request of Leontes, was 
 won over by Hermione's gentle and persuasive words 30 
 to put off his departure for some weeks longer. Upon 
 this, although Leontes had so long known the integrity 
 and honorable principles of his friend Polixenes, as 
 well as the excellent disposition of his virtuous queen, 
 he was seized with an ungovernable jealousy. Every 35 
 attention Hermione showed to Polixenes, though by her 
 husband's particular desire and merely to please him, 
 increased the unfortunate king's malady; and from be- 
 ing a loving and a true friend, and the best and fondest 
 of husbands, Leontes became suddenly a savage and 40 
 
1 66 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 inhuman monster. Sending for Camillo," one of the 
 lords of his court, and telling him of the suspicion he 
 entertained, he commanded him to poison Polixenes. 
 
 Camillo was a good man ; and he, well knowing that 
 the jealousy of Leontes had not the slightest founda-45 
 tion in truth, instead of poisoning Polixenes, acquainted 
 him with the king his master's orders and agreed to 
 escape with him out of the Sicilian dominions ; and 
 Polixenes, with the assistance of Camillo, arrived safe 
 in his own kingdom of Bohemia, where Camillo lived 5° 
 from that time in the king's court and became the 
 chief friend and favorite of Polixenes. 
 
 The flight of Polixenes enraged the jealous Leontes 
 still more. He went to the queen's apartment, where 
 the good lady was sitting with her little son Mamillius, ss 
 who was just beginning to tell one of his best stories 
 to amuse his mother, when the king entered, and, taking 
 the child away, sent Hermione to prison. 
 
 Mamillius,^ though but a very young child, loved his 
 mother tenderly ; and when he saw her so dishonored, 60 
 and found she was taken from him to be put into a 
 prison, he took it deeply to heart, and drooped and 
 pined away by slow degrees, losing his appetite and 
 his sleep, till it was thought his grief would kill him. 
 
 The king, when he had sent his queen to prison, 65 
 commanded Cleomenes^ and Dion,* two Sicilian lords, 
 to go to Delphos,^ there to inquire of the oracle at the 
 Temple of Apollo ^ if his queen had been unfaithful to 
 him. 
 
 When Hermione had been a short time in prison, 70 
 she was brought to bed of a daughter j and the poor 
 
 ' Ca-mil'-ld. ^ Ma-mil'-li-us. ^ Cle-6m'-e-nes [s as 2). 
 
 * Di-'6n. * Del'-phos. See Xotes. * A-pol'-lo. 
 
• THE WINTER'S TALE. 167 
 
 lady received much comfort from the sight of her pretty 
 baby, and she said to it, " My poor little prisoner, I am 
 as innocent as you are." 
 
 Hermione had a kind friend in the noble -spirited 75 
 Paulina,^ who was the wife of Antigonus,'' a Sicilian 
 lord; and when the lady Paulina heard her royal mis- 
 tress was brought to bed she went to the prison where 
 Hermione was confined ; and she said to Emilia,^ a 
 lady who attended upon Hermione, " I pray you, Emilia, 80 
 tell the good queen, if her majesty dare trust me with 
 her little babe, I will carry it to the king its father; 
 we do not know how he may soften at the sight of 
 ffis innocent child." " Most worthy madam," replied 
 Emilia, "I will acquaint the queen with your noble 85 
 offer. She was wishing to-day that she had any friend 
 who would venture to present the child to the king." 
 "And tell her," said Paulina, "that I will speak boldly 
 to Leontes in her defence." " May you be forever 
 blessed," said Emilia, "for your kindness to our gra- 90 
 cious queen !" Emilia then went to Hermione, who 
 joyfully gave up her baby to the care of Paulina, for 
 she had feared that no one would dare venture to 
 present the child to its father. 
 
 Paulina took the new-born infant, and, forcing her- 95 
 self into the king's presence, notwithstanding her hus- 
 band, fearing the king's anger, endeavored to prevent 
 her, she laid the babe at its father's feet; and Paulina 
 made a noble speech to the king in defence of Hermi- 
 one, and she reproached him severely for his inhuman- 100 
 ity, and implored him to have mercy on his innocent 
 wife and child. But Paulina's spirited remonstrances 
 
 ^ Pau-li'-na {i as in machine). ^ An-tig'-6-ntis {g hard). 
 
 ' E-mil'-t-a. 
 
l68 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 only aggravated* Leontes's displeasure, and he ordered 
 her husband, Antigonus, to take her from his presence. 
 
 When Paulina went away, she left the little baby at 105 
 its father's feet, thinking, when he was alone with it, he 
 would look upon it and have pity on its helpless inno- 
 cence. 
 
 The good Paulina was mistaken ; for no sooner was 
 she gone than the merciless father ordered Antigonus, "o 
 Paulina's husband, to take the child and carry it out 
 to sea and leave it upon some desert shore to perish. 
 
 Antigonus, unlike the good Caraillo, too well obeyed 
 the orders of Leontes \ for he immediately carried the 
 child on shipboard and put out to sea, intending t?) us 
 leave it on the first desert coast he could find. 
 
 So firmly was the king persuaded of the guilt of 
 Hermione, that he would not wait for the return of 
 Cleomenes and Dion, whom he had sent to consult the 
 oracle of Apollo at Delphos ; but, before the queen was 120 
 recovered from her grief for the loss of her precious 
 baby, he had her brought to a public trial before all 
 the lords and nobles of his court. And when all the 
 great lords, the judges, and all the nobility of the land 
 were assembled together to try Herrnione, and that 125 
 unhappy queen was standing as a prisoner before her 
 subjects to receive their judgment, Cleomenes and Dion 
 entered the assembly and presented to the king the 
 answer of the oracle sealed up; and Leontes command- 
 ed the seal to be broken and the words of the oracle 130 
 to be read aloud, and these were the words : ^''Hermione 
 is innoce7it, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, 
 Leontes a jealous tyrant; and the king shall live without 
 an heir if that which is lost be not found. '^ The king 
 
 * Increased 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 169 
 
 would give no credit to the words of the oracle : he 135 
 said it was a falsehood invented by the queen's friends, 
 and he desired the judge to proceed in the trial of the 
 queen ; but while Leontes was speaking a man entered 
 and told him that the prince Mamillius, hearing his 
 mother was to be tried for her life, struck with grief 14° 
 and shame, had suddenly died. 
 
 Hermione, upon hearing of the death of this dear 
 affectionate child, who had lost his life in sorrowing 
 for her misfortune, fainted , and Leontes, pierced to the 
 heart by the news, began to feel pity for his unhappy 145 
 queen, and he ordered Paulina and the ladies who 
 were her attendants to take her away and use means 
 for her recovery. Paulina soon returned, and told the 
 king that Hermione was dead. 
 
 When Leontes heard that the queen was dead he 150 
 repented of his cruelty to her, and now that he thought 
 his ill usage had broken Hermione's heart he believed 
 her innocent ; and he now thought the words of the 
 oracle were true, as he knew "if that which was lost 
 was not found," which he concluded was his young 15s 
 daughter, he should be without an heir, the young 
 prince Mamillius being dead; and he would give his 
 kingdom now to recover his lost daughter*, and Leon- 
 tes gave himself up to remorse, and passed many years 
 in mournful thoughts and repentant grief. 160 
 
 The ship in which Antigonus carried the infant prin- 
 cess out to sea was driven by a storm upon the coast 
 of Bohemia, the very kingdom of the good king Polix- 
 enes. Here Antigonus landed, and here he left the 
 little baby. 165 
 
 Antigonus never returned to Sicily to tell Leontes 
 where he had left his daughter, for as he was going 
 
lyo TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 back to the ship a bear came out of the woods and 
 tore him to pieces; a just punishment on him for obey- 
 ing the wicked order of Leontes. 170 
 
 The child was dressed in rich clothes and jewels ; 
 for Hermione had made it very fine when she sent it 
 to Leontes, and Antigonus had pinned a paper to its 
 mantle, with the name oi Perdita^ written thereon, and 
 words obscurely intimating its high birth and untoward 175 
 fate. 
 
 This poor deserted baby was found by a shepherd. 
 He was a humane man, and so he carried the little 
 Perdita home to his wife, who nursed it tenderly ; but 
 poverty tempted the shepherd to conceal the rich prize 180 
 he had found. Therefore he left that part of the coun- 
 try, that no one might know where he got his riches, 
 and with part of Perdita's jewels he bought herds of 
 sheep and became a wealthy shepherd. He brought 
 up Perdita as his own child, and she knew not she was 185 
 any other than a shepherd's daughter. 
 
 The little Perdita grew up a lovely maiden ; and 
 though she had no better education than that of a 
 shepherd's daughter, yet so did the natural graces she 
 inherited from her royal mother shine forth in her un- 19° 
 tutored mind that no one, from her behavior, would 
 have known she had not been brought up in her 
 father's court. 
 
 Polixenes, the king of Bohemia, had an only son, 
 whose name was Florizel.'^ As this young prince was 195 
 hunting near the shepherd's dwelling, he saw the old 
 man's supposed daughter; and the beauty, modesty, and 
 queen-like deportment of Perdita caused him instantly 
 to fall in love with her. He soon, under the name of 
 ' Per'-di-ta. See Notes. "■ Flor'-I-zel. 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 171 
 
 Doricles' and in the disguise of a private gentleman, 200 
 became a constant visitor at the old shepherd's house. 
 
 Florizel's frequent absences from court alarmed Pol- 
 ixenes \ and, setting people to watch his son, he discov- 
 ered his love for the shepherd's fair daughter, 
 
 Polixenes then called for Camillo — the faithful Ca-205 
 millo, who had preserved his life from the fury of Leon- 
 tes — and desired that he would accompany him to the 
 house of the shepherd, the supposed father of Perdita. 
 
 Polixenes and Camillo, both in disguise, arrived at 
 the old shepherd's dwelling while they were celebrating 210 
 the feast of sheep -shearing; and though they were 
 strangers, yet at the sheep-shearing every guest being 
 made welcome, they were invited to walk in and join 
 in the general festivity. 
 
 Nothing but mirth and jollity was going forward 215 
 Tables were spread, and great preparations were making 
 for the rustic feast. Some lads and lasses were danc- 
 ing on the green before the house, while others of the 
 young men were buying ribbons, gloves, and such toys, 
 of a peddler at the door. 220 
 
 While this busy scene was going forward, Florizel 
 and Perdita sat quietly in a retired corner, seemingly 
 more pleased with the conversation of each other than 
 desirous of engaging in the sports and silly amuse- 
 ments of those around them. 225 
 
 The king was so disguised that it was impossible his 
 son could know him. He therefore advanced near 
 enough to hear the conversation. The simple yet ele- 
 gant manner in which Perdita conversed with his son 
 did not a little surprise Polixenes; he said to Camillo, 230 
 ■'This is the prettiest low-born lass I ever saw; noth- 
 Dor'-I-cles (j as «). 
 
172 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 PORTAL OF PALACE COURT IN PRAGUE, CAPITAL OF BOHEMIA. 
 
 ing she does or says but looks like something greater 
 than herself, too noble for this place." 
 
 Camillo replied, "Indeed, she is the very queen of 
 curds and cream." 235 
 
 "Pray, my good friend," said the king to the old 
 shepherd, "what fair swain is that talking with your 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 173 
 
 daughter ?" " They call him Doricles," replied the 
 shepherd. "He says he loves my daughter; and, to 
 speak truth, there is not a kiss to choose which loves 240 
 the other best. If young Doricles can get her, she 
 shall bring him that he little dreams of;" meaning 
 the remainder of Perdita's jewels, which, after he had 
 bought herds of sheep with part of them, he had care- 
 fully hoarded up for her marriage-portion. 245 
 
 Polixenes then addressed his son, " How now, 
 young man !" said he. " Your heart seems full of some- 
 thing that takes off your mind from feasting. When 
 I was young, I used to load my love with presents; 
 but you have let the peddler go, and have bought 250 
 your lass no toy." 
 
 The young prince, who little thought he was talking 
 to the king his father, replied, " Old sir, she prizes not 
 such trifles; the gifts which Perdita expects from me 
 are locked up in my heart." Then, turning to Perdita, 255 
 he said to her, " O, hear me, Perdita, before this an- 
 cient gentleman, who, it seems, was once himself a 
 lover; he shall hear what I profess!" Florizel then 
 called upon this old stranger to be a witness to a sol- 
 emn promise of marriage which he made to Perdita, 260 
 saying to Polixenes, "I pray you, mark our con- 
 tract."' 
 
 " Mark your divorce, young sir," said the king, dis- 
 covering himself. Polixenes then reproached his son 
 for daring to contract himself to this low-born maiden, 265 
 calling Perdita "shepherd's brat," " sheep-hook," "'^ and 
 other disrespectful names; and threatening, if ever she 
 suffered his son to see her again, he would put her and 
 the old shepherd her father to a cruel death. 
 
 ^ Betrothal. See Notes. ^ Shepherd's crook. 
 
174 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES. 
 
 The king then left them in great wrath, and ordered 270 
 Camillo to follow him with Prince Florizel. 
 
 When the king had departed, Perdita, whose royal 
 nature was roused by Polixenes's reproaches, said, 
 " Though we are all undone, I was not much afraid ; 
 and once or twice I was about to speak, and tell him 275 
 plainly that the self-same sun which shines upon his 
 palace hides not his face from our cottage, but looks 
 on both alike." Then sorrowfully she said : " But, now 
 I am awakened from this dream, I will queen it no 
 farther. Leave me, sir. I will go milk my ewes, and 280 
 weep." 
 
 The kind-hearted Camillo was charmed with the 
 spirit and propriety of Perdita's behavior; and, per- 
 ceiving that the young prince was too deeply in love 
 to give up his mistress at the command of his royal 285 
 father, he thought of a way to befriend the lovers and 
 at the same time to execute a favorite scheme he had 
 in his mind. 
 
 Camillo had long known that Leontes, the king of 
 Sicily, was become a true penitent; and though Camillo 290 
 was now the favored friend of King Polixenes, he could 
 not help wishing once more to see his late royal master 
 and his native home. He therefore proposed to Flor- 
 izel and Perdita that they should accompany him to 
 the Sicilian court, where he would engage Leontes 295 
 "should protect them till through his mediation they 
 could obtain pardon from Polixenes and his consent 
 to their marriage. 
 
 To this proposal they joyfully agreed; and Camillo, 
 who conducted everything relative to their flight, al- 300 
 lowed the old shepherd to go along with them. 
 
 The shepherd took with him the remainder of Per- 
 
THE WINTER' S TALE. 
 
 175 
 
 dita's jewels, her baby-clothes, and the paper which he 
 had found pinned to her mantle. 
 
 After a prosperous voyage, Florizel and Perdita, 305 
 Camillo and the old shepherd, arrived in safety at the 
 court of Leontes. Leontes, who still mourned his dead 
 Hermione and his lost child, received Camillo with 
 great kindness and gave a cordial welcome to Prince 
 Florizel. But Perdita, whom Florizel introduced as 310 
 his princess, seemed to engross all Leontes's attention. 
 Perceiving a resemblance between her and his dead 
 queen Hermione, his grief broke out afresh, and he 
 said, such a lovely creature might his own daughter 
 have been, if he had not cruelly destroyed her. " And 315 
 then, too," said he to Florizel, " I lost the society and 
 friendship of your brave father, whom I now desire 
 more than my life once again to look upon." 
 
 When the old shepherd heard how much notice the 
 king had taken of Perdita, and that he had lost a 320 
 daughter, who was exposed in infancy, he fell to com- 
 paring the time when he found the little Perdita with 
 the manner of its exposure, the jewels and other tokens 
 of its high birth; from all which it was impossible for 
 him not to conclude that Perdita and the king's lost 325 
 daughter were the same. 
 
 Florizel and Perdita, Camillo and the faithful Paulina, 
 were present when the old shepherd related to the king 
 the manner in which he had found the child, and also 
 the circumstance of Antigonus's death, he having seen 330 
 the bear seize upon him. He showed the rich mantle 
 in which Paulina remembered Hermione had wrapped 
 the child ; and he produced a jewel which she remem- 
 bered Hermione had tied about Perdita's neck, and he 
 gave up the paper which Paulina knew to be the 335 
 
iy6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES, 
 
 writing of her husband. It could not be doubted that 
 Perdita was Leontes's own daughter. But, O, the noble 
 struggles of Paulina between sorrow for her husband's 
 death and joy that the oracle was fulfilled in the king's 
 heir, his long- lost daughter, being found! When Le- 340 
 ontes heard that Perdita was his daughter, the great 
 sorrow that he felt that Hermione was not living to 
 behold her child made him that he could say nothing 
 for a long time but " O, thy mother, thy mother !" 
 
 Paulina interrupted this joyful yet distressful scene 345 
 with saying to Leontes that she had a statue, newly 
 finished by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano,^ 
 which was such a perfect resemblance of the queen 
 that, would his majesty be pleased to go to her house 
 and look upon it, he would almost be ready to think it 350 
 was Hermione herself. Thither then they all went ; 
 the king anxious to see the semblance of his Hermione, 
 and Perdita longing to behold what the mother she 
 never saw did look like. 
 
 When Paulina drew back the curtain which concealed 355 
 this famous statue, so perfectly did it resemble Hermi- 
 one that all the king's sorrow was renewed at the sight. 
 For a long time he had no power to speak or move. 
 
 ,"I like your silence, my liege," said Paulina; "it 
 the more shows your wonder. Is not this statue very 360 
 like your queen?" 
 
 At length the king said : " O, thus she stood, even 
 with such majesty, when I first wooed her ! But yet, 
 Paulina, Hermione was not so aged as this statue 
 looks." Paulina replied: "So much the more the 365 
 carver's excellence, who has made the statue as Her- 
 mione would have looked had she been living now. 
 ^ Ro-ma'-no {a as in aJi), 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 177 
 
 But let me draw the curtain, sire, lest presently you 
 think it moves." 
 
 The king then said : " Do not draw the curtain ! 370 
 Would I were dead! See, Camillo, would you not think 
 it breathed ? Her eye seems to have motion in it." 
 " I must draw the curtain, my liege," said Paulina. 
 "You are so transported,' you will persuade yourself 
 the statue lives." "O sweet Paulina," said Leontes, 375 
 " make me think so twenty years together ! Still me- 
 thinks there is an air comes from her. What fine 
 chisel could ever yet cut breath ? Let no man mock 
 me, for I will kiss her." "Good, my lord, forbear!" 
 said Paulina. "The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; 380 
 you will stain your own with oily painting. Shall I 
 draw the curtain ?" " No, not these twenty years," said 
 Leontes. 
 
 Perdita, who all this time had been kneeling and 
 beholding in silent admiration the statue of her match- 385 
 less mother, said now, " And so long could I stay here, 
 looking upon my dear mother." 
 
 " Either forbear this transport," said Paulina to Le- 
 ontes, "and let me draw the curtain, or prepare your- 
 self for more amazement. I can make the statue move, 39° 
 indeed ; ay, and descend from off the pedestal, and take 
 you by the hand. But then you will think, which I 
 protest I am not, that I am assisted by some wicked 
 powers." "What you can make her do," said the as- 
 tonished king, "I am content to look upon. What you 395 
 can make her speak, I am content to hear; for it is as 
 easy to make her speak as move." 
 
 Paulina then ordered some slow and solemn music, 
 which she had prepared for this purpose, to strike up; 
 ^ Overcome with emotion. 
 12 
 
178 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE S COMEDIES. 
 
 and, to the amazement of all the beholders, the statue 4°° 
 came down from off the pedestal and threw its arms 
 around Leontes's neck. The statue then began to 
 speak, praying for blessings on her husband and on 
 her child, the newly-found Perdita. 
 
 No wonder that the statue hung upon Leontes's neck 405 
 and blessed her husband and her child. No wonder; 
 for the statue was indeed Hermione herself, the real, 
 the living queen. 
 
 Paulina had falsely reported to the king the death 
 of Hermione, thinking that the only means to preserve 410 
 her royal mistress's life ; and with the good Paulina 
 Hermione had lived ever since, never choosing Leontes 
 should know she was living till she heard Perdita had 
 been found; for, though she had long forgiven the in- 
 juries which Leontes had done to herself, she could 415 
 not pardon his cruelty to his infant daughter. 
 
 His dead queen thus restored to life, his lost daugh- 
 ter found, the long -sorrowing Leontes could scarcely 
 support^ the excess of his own happiness. 
 
 Nothing but congratulations and affectionate speech- 420 
 es were heard on all sides. Now the delighted parents 
 thanked Prince Florizel for loving their lowly-seeming 
 daughter; and now they blessed the good old shepherd 
 for preserving their child. Greatly did Camillo and 
 Paulina rejoice that they had lived to see so good an 425 
 end of all their faithful services. 
 
 And, as if nothing should be wanting to complete 
 this strange and unlooked-for joy. King Polixenes him- 
 self now entered the palace. 
 
 When Polixenes first missed his son and Camillo, 43° 
 knowing that Camillo had long wished to return to 
 
 J Bear. 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 179 
 
 Sicily, he conjectured he should find the fugitives here; 
 and, following them with all speed, he happened to 
 arrive just at this, the happiest moment of Leontes's 
 life. 435 
 
 Polixenes took a part in the general joy. He for- 
 gave his friend Leontes the unjust jealousy he had 
 conceived against him, and they once more loved each 
 other with all the warmth of their first boyish friend- 
 ship. And there was no fear that Polixenes would 440 
 now oppose his son's marriage with Perdita. She was 
 no "sheep-hook" now, but the heiress of the crown 
 of Sicily. 
 
 Thus have we seen the patient virtues of the long- 
 sufifering Hermione rewarded. That excellent lady 445 
 lived many years with her Leontes and her Perdita, 
 the happiest of mothers and of queens. 
 
 A CASTLE IN BOHEMIA. 
 

 ■" llllii 
 
 Site ife 
 
 WW 
 
 [111 il'('-r^ 
 ili.'llll/'/ 
 
 
 SHAKESPEARE S MONUMENT AT STRATFORD. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 I 
 
 L 
 
Abbreviations, except a few of the most familiar, have been avoided in the 
 Notes, as in other parts of the book. The references to act, scene, and line in 
 the quotations from Shakespeare are added for tlie convenience of the teacher or 
 parent, who may sometimes wish to refer to the context, and possibly to make 
 use of it in talking with the young people. The line-numbers are those of the 
 " Globe " edition, which vary from those of my edition only in scenes that are 
 wholly or partly in prose. 
 
 The numbers appended to names of persons (as on pages 183, 197, etc-) are tlie 
 dates of their birth and death. It must not be supposed that I would have these 
 committed to memory as a part of the lesson, though it is well for the pupil to 
 know at about what time an eminent man Uved or wrote. W. J. R. 
 
CHARLES LAMB. 
 
 NOTES 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Charles Lamb was born in London, in 1775. He was educated 
 at the school of Christ's Hospital, and at the age of seventeen be- 
 came a clerk in the office of the East India Company. There he 
 remained until 1825, when he retired with a small pension. He was 
 never married, but devoted his life to the care of his only sister, 
 Mary Anne (i 765-1847), who was subject to insane fits, in one of 
 which she killed her mother. The Essays of Elia are the most 
 famous of his writings. In conjunction with his sister he wrote a 
 volume of Poetry for Children (1809), besides these Tales from 
 Shakespeare (1807). He died on the 27th of December, 1S34; and 
 she on the 20th of May, 1847. 
 
1 84 NOTES. 
 
 From a letter written by Lamb in 1806 we learn that the tales 
 from the Comedies were written by his sister ; but her name did 
 not appear on the title-page of the first edition, nor was it mentioned 
 in the preface, though the latter made it clear that more than one 
 person had been engaged in preparing the book. Mary's name may 
 have been omitted at her own request. No doubt Charles helped 
 in revising her work for the press. 
 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-on- Avon, England, 
 in April, 1564. He probably spent some years in the grammar 
 school there. When he was eighteen he married Anne Hathaway, 
 who was eight years older than himself A few years later he went 
 to London, where he became first an actor, then a writer of plays. 
 After gaining fame and fortune in London, he returned to Stratford 
 about the year 1612, and died there on the 23d of April, 1616. Be- 
 sides the thirty-seven plays ascribed to him, he wrote two long 
 poems — Venus and Adonis and Lucrece — a few shorter ones, and 
 a hundred and fifty-four Sonnets. 
 
 The Tempest was probably written about 1611, being one of the 
 latest of Shakespeare's plays. There are reasons for believing that 
 it was founded upon an earlier play or novel, no copy of which has 
 come down to our day. 
 
 Pa^e I5 line I. — A certain island. It is not likely that Shake- 
 speare had any particular island in mind ; but we must suppose it to 
 be in the Mediterranean, as the shipwreck occurred when the King 
 of Naples and his party were on their way home from Tunis. 
 
 Line 3. — Miranda. The name is from the Latin, and means ad- 
 mirable. 
 
 Pa^e 2j line 10. — Much affected by all learned men. In the time 
 of Shakespeare almost everybody, learned and unlearned, believed 
 in magic and witchcraft. A few men were bold enough to speak 
 and write against the delusion. One of the first of these in England 
 was Reginald Scot, whose Discoveries of Witchcraft (1584) was one 
 of the books which we know that Shakespeare had read. In 1597 
 James VI. of Scotland, afterwards James I. of England, published 
 his treatise on Demonology, in which he defended the popular belief. 
 Witches were hung in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692 ; and the laws 
 against witchcraft were not formally repealed in England until 1736. 
 
 * That is, exposure. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 185 
 
 Line 16. — Imprisoned in the bodies of large h-ees. According to 
 the play, Ariel had been thus confined in "a cloven pine" for "a 
 dozen years" before Prospero set him free. See on page 6, line 149. 
 
 Line 23. — Caliban. It is supposed that the name was formed by 
 transposing the letters of canibal, or cannibal. 
 
 Line 27. — Tatight Jiim to speak, etc. Compare the play (i. 2. 351) : 
 
 " I pitied thee, 
 Took pains to make thee speak ; when thou didst not, savage, 
 Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like 
 A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes 
 With words that made them known. But thy vile race,* 
 Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which good natures 
 Could not abide to be with." 
 
 Line 37, — Ariel, in the likeness of an ape, etc. Compare what 
 Caliban says of Ariel and the other spirits in the play (ii. 2. 8) : 
 
 " For every trifle are they set upon me ; 
 Sometime like apes that mowf and chatter at me 
 And after bite me ; then like hedgehogs, which 
 Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount X 
 Their pricks § at my footfall ; sometime am I 
 All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues 
 Do hiss me into madness." 
 
 Pag'e 3j line 52. — If by yonr art, etc. Compare the play (i. 2. i) : 
 
 " If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. 
 
 ***** 
 Had I been any god of power, I would 
 Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere 
 It should the good ship so have swallow' d and 
 The fraughtingll souls within her." 
 
 Prospero tells Miranda that " there 's no harm done," and adds : 
 
 " I have done nothing but in care of thee. 
 Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who 
 Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 
 Of whence I am, nor that I am more better H 
 Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell 
 And thy no greater father." 
 
 Line 65. — Canyon remember, etc. This dialogue is also from the 
 play (i. 2. 38) : 
 
 " Prospero. Canst thou remember 
 
 A time before we came unto this cell ? 
 
 * Nature. t "Make mouths" or faces. X Raise. § Prickles, quills. 
 il Freighting, forming the /rei^/ii of the ship. Our ^oxA fraught is an old 
 past participle of the verb freight. IT See p. 226, foot-note. 
 
1 86 NOTES. 
 
 I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not 
 Out * three j'ears old. 
 
 Miranda. Certainly, sir, I can. 
 
 Prospero. By what? by any other house or person? 
 Of any thing the image tell me that 
 Hath kept with thy remembrance. 
 
 Miranda. 'T is far off, 
 
 And rather like a dream than an assurance 
 That my remembrance warrants. Had I not 
 Four or five women once that tended me.'* 
 
 Prospero. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it 
 That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else 
 In the dark backward and abysm f of time ? 
 If thou remember' st aught ere thou cam'st here, 
 How thou cam' st here thou mayst. 
 
 Miranda. But that I do not. 
 
 Prospero. Twelve year + since, Miranda, twelve year since, 
 Thy father was the Duke of Milan and 
 A prince of power." 
 
 Pag"© 4:j line 95. — Wherefore did they not that hour destroy us? 
 The question is taken from the play, where Prospero says in reply : 
 
 " Dear, they durst not, 
 So dear the love my people bore me," etc. 
 
 Line loi. — Either tackle., sail, or mast. Either properly refers to 
 one of two things, and as a fronoun or adjective it is still so used. 
 We can say either of the two, but not either of the three. But as a 
 conjunction it is not limited in this way. Thus we find in the Bible 
 (i Kings, xviii. 27) : "Either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he 
 is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth." 
 
 Page 5j line 106. — What a trouble, etc. This, like parts of the 
 preceding dialogue, is taken with little change from the play (i. 2. 
 
 151): 
 
 '■^Miranda. Alack, what trouble 
 
 Was I then to you ! 
 
 Prospero. O, a cherubin § 
 
 Thou wast, that did preserve me ! Thou didst smile, 
 Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 
 When I have deck'd || the sea with drops full salt, 
 Under my burthen groan'd ; which rais'd in me 
 An undergoing stomach, H to bear up 
 Against what should ensue. 
 
 * Fully, completely. 
 
 t Abyss, depth, or distance. Backzvard is here used as a noun. 
 
 X Often used as a plural in Shakespeare's time. 
 
 § A form much used in the time of Shakespeare. 
 
 I! Sprinkled. TJ A sustaining courage- 
 
i87 
 
 THE TEMPEST, 
 
 Miranda. How came we ashore ? 
 
 Prospero. By Providence divine. 
 Some food we had and some fresh water that 
 A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 
 Out of his charity, who being then appointed 
 Master of this design, did give us, with 
 Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, 
 Which since have steaded * much. So, of his gentleness, 
 Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, 
 From mine own library, with volumes that 
 I prize above my dukedom." 
 
 Line 121. — His magic wand. With this the magician performed 
 many of his wonderful feats. Compare page 8, line 228. 
 
 Line 128. — My brave spirit. The word brave was formerly in very 
 common use as a term of praise or commendation. Miranda, in the 
 play, calls the ship that was wrecked " a brave vessel " (the ^^fine 
 large ship " of page 3, line 50) ; and elsewhere Miranda says that 
 Ferdinand has "a brave form;" and she herself is referred to as a 
 " brave lass " (a beautiful girl). See also page 14, line 369. So 
 the noun bravery meant beauty, elegance, etc. Compare Isaiah, 
 iii. 18 : " the bravery of their tinkling ornaments ;" and Shakespeare, 
 Taming of the Shrew, iv. 3. 57 : " With scarfs and fans and double 
 change of bravery ;" that is, a double set of fine garments or orna- 
 ments. 
 
 Page 6j line 149. — Thy charge is faithfully performed, etc. Com- 
 pare the play (i. 2. 237) : 
 
 " Prospero. Ariel, thy charge 
 
 Exactly is perform'd ; but there 's more work. 
 
 * * * 5f: * * * 
 
 A riel. Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give me pains, 
 Let me remember t thee what thou hast promis'd, 
 Which is not yet perform'd me. 
 
 Prospero. How now ? moody ? 
 
 What is 't thou canst demand? 
 
 A riel. My liberty. 
 
 Prospero. Before the time be out ? no more ! 
 
 Ariel. I prithee, $ 
 
 Remember I have done thee worthy service ; 
 Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd 
 Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise 
 To bate § me a full year. 
 
 Prospero. Dost thou forget 
 
 From what a torment I did free thee ? 
 
 Ariel. I do not, sir. 
 
 Prospero. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot 
 
 Aided, been of service. t Remind. % Pray thee. § Abate. 
 
i88 NOTES. 
 
 The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy 
 Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her ? 
 
 Ariel. No, sir. 
 
 Prosfero. Thou hast. Where was she born ? speak ; tell me. 
 
 Ariel. Sir, in Argier.* 
 
 Prospero. O, was she so ? I must 
 
 Once in a month recount what thou hast been, 
 Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, 
 For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible 
 To enter human hearing, from Argier, 
 Thou know'st, was banish 'd. 
 
 Thou, my slave. 
 As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant ; 
 And, for t thou wast a spirit too delicate 
 To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, 
 Refusing her grand hests,i" she did confine thee, 
 By help of her more potent ministers. 
 And in her most unmitigable rage, 
 Into a cloven pine ; within which rift 
 Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain 
 A dozen years, within which space slie died, 
 And left thee there." 
 
 Pag'e 7, line i8i. — Full fathom five. That is, at a depth of 
 fully five fathoms, or thirty feet. Fathom is used as a plural, like 
 year in the passage quoted in note on page 3, line 65. Foot, mile, 
 pound, and other words meaning measure, weight, time, etc., were 
 similarly employed as plurals. We still speak of a ten-foot fole, a 
 two-pound weight, etc. 
 
 Line 182. — Of his bones at-e coral made. Bones cannot be turned 
 into coral, nor eyes into pearls, but the matter of animals and plants 
 that have died and decayed does in the course of time reappear in 
 new forms of life and beauty. 
 
 Line 187. — Sea-nyvtphs. Water spirits. In the play (i. 2. 301) 
 Prospero says to Ariel : " Go make thyself like a nymph o' the 
 sea." 
 
 Line 195. — Tell me what you are looking at yonder. Compare the 
 play (i. 2. 407) : 
 
 '■^ P7-ospero. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,§ 
 And say what thou seest yond. || 
 
 Miranda. What is 't ? a spirit ? 
 
 Lord, how it looks about ! Believe me, sir, 
 It carries a brave H form. But 't is a spirit. 
 
 * An old form o{ Algiers- t Because- t Behests, commands- 
 
 § Raise thine eyelids. II Yonder. 
 
 IT Beautiful- See note on line 128. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 189 
 
 Prospero. No, wench ; * it eats and sleeps and hath such senses 
 As we have — such. This gallant which thou seest 
 Was in the wrack ; t and, but he 's something stain'd 
 With grief that "s beauty's canker, $ thou mightst call him 
 A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows. 
 And strays about to find 'em. 
 
 Miranda. I might call him 
 
 A thing divine, for nothing natural 
 I ever saw so noble." 
 
 Page 8^ line 211. — That Miranda was the goddess of the place. 
 Compare the play (i. 2. 420) : 
 
 ^^ Ferdinand. Most sure, the goddess 
 
 On whom these airs attend ! — Vouchsafe my prayer 
 May know if you remain upon this island, 
 And that you will some good instruction give 
 How I may bear me § here ; my prime || request, 
 Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder ! 
 If you be maid H or no ? 
 
 Miranda. No wonder, sir, 
 
 But certainly a maid." 
 
 Line 221. — As a spy. Compare the play (i. 2. 452) : 
 
 " Prospero. Thou dost here usurp 
 
 The name thou owest ** not, and hast put thyself 
 Upon this island as a spy, to win it 
 From me, the lord on 'ttt 
 
 Ferdinand. No, as I am a man. 
 
 Miranda. There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple ; 
 If the ill spirit have so fair a house, 
 Good things will strive to dwell with 't. 
 
 Prospero. [To Ferdinand'\ Follow me. — 
 
 Speak not you for him ; he 's a traitor. — Come ; 
 I '11 manacle thy neck and feet together : 
 Sea-water shalt thou drink ; thy food shall be 
 The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks 
 Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. 
 
 Ferdinatid. No ; 
 
 I will resist such entertainment JJ till * 
 
 Mine enemy has more power. 
 
 \.He draws, and is charmed frOfn moving. 
 
 Miranda. O dear father ! 
 
 * Girl. See note on page 151, line 45. 
 
 t Wreck ; the only form of the word when Shakespeare wrote. He uses it as 
 a rhyme to back., alack., etc. 
 
 X Canker-worm. See note on page 22, line 161. 
 
 § How I should behave. il First, chief. 
 
 II A mortal maiden. ** Ownest. 
 
 tt Of it. On v»fas often used like of, as vulgarly now. XX Treatment. 
 
190 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 MANACLING NECK AND FEET TOGETHER. 
 
 Make not too rash a trial of hira, for 
 He 's gentle, and not fearful.* 
 
 Prospero. What ! I say, 
 
 My foot my tutor ? t — Put thy sword up, traitor, 
 Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience 
 Is so possess" d with guilt : come from thy ward ; % 
 For I can here disarm thee with this stick, § 
 And make thy weapon drop. 
 
 Mirajtda. Beseech you, father ! 
 
 Prospero. Hence ! hang not on my garments. 
 
 Miranda. Sir, have pity ; 
 
 I '11 be his surety. 
 
 Prospero. Silence ! one word more 
 
 Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee ! What ! 
 An advocate f&r an impostor ! hush ! 
 Thou think'st there is || no more such shapes as he. 
 Having seen but him and Caliban ; foolish wench ! 
 To the most of men this is a Caliban, 
 And they to him are angels. 
 
 Miranda. My affections 
 
 Are, then, most humble ; I have no ambition 
 To see a goodlier man. 
 
 * Of gentle or noble birth, and therefore no coward. 
 
 ■*• Will you, my inferior, attempt to teach me ? X Position of defence. 
 
 § His magic wand. 1| Often used by Shakespeare before a plural subject. 
 
THE TEMPEST. ipi 
 
 Prosper o. [ To Ferdinand\ Come on ; obey : 
 Thy nerves are m their infancy again, 
 And have no vigour in them. 
 
 Ferdinand. So they are ; 
 
 My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
 The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats 
 To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
 Might I but through my prison once a day 
 Behold this maid. All corners else o' the earth 
 Let liberty make use of; space enough 
 Have I in such a prison." 
 
 Pag'e lOj line 263. — Do not work so hard. Compare the play 
 (iii. I. 16) : 
 
 ' ' Miranda. Alas ! now, pray you, 
 
 Work not so hard. 
 
 My father 
 Is hard at study ; pray, now, rest yourself; 
 He 's safe for these three hours. 
 
 Ferdinand. O most dear mistress, 
 
 The sun will set before I shall discharge 
 What I must strive to do ! 
 
 Miranda. If you '11 sit down, 
 
 I '11 bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that ; 
 I '11 carry it to the pile. 
 
 Ferdinand. No, precious creature ; 
 
 I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
 Than you should such dishonour undergo. 
 While I sit lazy by. 
 
 Miranda. ' It would become me 
 
 As well as it does you ; and I should do it 
 With much more ease, for my good will is to it, 
 And yours it is against." 
 
 Line 288. — / do not remember the face of any woman, etc. See 
 the play (iii. i. 48) : 
 
 '■'■ Mirajida. I do not know 
 
 One of my sex, no woman's face remember. 
 Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
 More that I may call men than you, good friend, 
 And my dear father. How features are abroad, 
 I am skilless* of; but, by my moddfcty. 
 The jewel in my dower, I would not wish 
 Any companion in the world but you ; 
 Nor can imagination form a shape 
 Besides yourself to like off — But I prattle 
 
 * Ignorant. t In Shakespeare's time like o/\\diS often used as we use like. 
 
192 NOTES. 
 
 Something too wildly, and my father's precepts 
 I therein do forget." 
 
 Page llj line 303. — / am a fool to weep at %vhat I am glad of. 
 This is taken word for word from the play ; and so is the last sen- 
 tence of the speech, " I am your wife," etc. " Plain and holy inno- 
 cence " is also Shakespeare's. 
 
 Line 313. — Then, as my gift, etc. This is almost exactly like the 
 play (iv. I. 13) : 
 
 " Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition 
 Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter." 
 
 In a preceding speech, Prospero has said : 
 
 " Do not smile at me that I boast her off, 
 For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, 
 And make it halt behind her." 
 
 Page 12j line 33S. — Ariel told his master, etc. This, with Pros- 
 pero's reply, is based upon one of the most beautiful passages in 
 the play (v. i. 17) : 
 
 ' ' A riel. Your charm so strongly works 'em 
 
 That if you now beheld them your affections 
 Would become tender. 
 
 Prospero. Dost thou think so, Spirit? 
 
 A riel. Mine would, sir, were I human. 
 
 Prospero. And mine shall. 
 
 Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
 Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, 
 One of their kind, that relish all as sharply 
 Passion as they,* be kindlier mov'd than thou art? 
 Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, 
 Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury 
 Do I take part. The rarer action is 
 In virtue than in vengeance ; they being penitent, 
 The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
 Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel ; 
 My charms I "11 break, their senses I '11 restore, 
 And they shall be themselves." 
 
 Page 14, line 368. — " O wonder!'" said Miranda^ etc. This fol- 
 lows the play closely (v. i. 181) : 
 
 ^^ Miranda. * Oi'onder! 
 
 How many goodly creatures are there here ! 
 How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, 
 That has such people in 't ! 
 
 * That feel all human emotion as keenly as they do ; that am as sensitive to 
 suffering as they. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 193 
 
 Pros/>ero. 'T is new to thee. 
 
 Alonso. What* is this maid with whom thou wast at play? 
 Your eld'st t acquaintance cannot be three hours ; 
 Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, 
 And brought us thus together ? 
 
 Ferdinand. Sir, she is mortal, 
 
 But by immortal Providence she 's mine ; 
 I chose her when I could not ask my father 
 For his advice, nor thought I had one. She 
 Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, 
 Of whom so often I have heard renown 
 But never saw before ; of whom I have 
 Receiv'd a second life, and second father 
 This lady makes him to me. 
 
 Alonso. I am hers. 
 
 But, O, how oddly will it sound that I 
 Must ask my child forgiveness ! 
 
 Prospero. There, sir, stop ; 
 
 Let us not burthen our remembrances 
 With a heaviness that 's gone. " 
 
 Page I65 line 428. — Ariel sung this pretty song. Both sang and 
 sung are now used as the past tense of sing. The former is perhaps 
 more common in this country. Shakespeare has sung except in 
 one instance {Sonnet 73. 4), where sang is used for the sake of the 
 rhyme. 
 
 Line 436. — Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books 
 and wand. In the play (iv. i. 54) Prospero says : 
 
 "I '11 break my staff, 
 Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
 And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
 I '11 drown my book." 
 
 A MIDSUxMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 A Midsummer- Nighf s Dream, on which this story is founded, 
 is one of the most delightful of Shakespeare's plays. It was prob- 
 ably written in 1 594, when the poet was thirty years old, and the 
 plot appears to be his own. 
 
 Page 17 J line I. — There was a law, etc. Whether there was any 
 such law in Athens in the prehistoric age when Theseus is said to 
 have lived, we do not know; but long afterwards Solon made a law 
 giving parents the power of life and death over their children. 
 
 Page 18j line 14. — Theseus. The name may be pronounced 
 
 * Who. t Longest. 
 
 13 
 
194 NOTBIS. 
 
 either The'-se-us, as on page i8, or The'-seus (a dissyllable), as the 
 Greeks made it. 
 
 Duke. The title is a modern one, but writers before Shakespeare 
 applied it to Greeks and Romans. We find it in the Bible, in Gen- 
 esis, xxxvi. 15, I Chronicles, i. 51, etc. 
 
 Page 19^ line 59. — Oberon. The king of the fairies had been 
 known by this name before the time of Shakespeare, but the poet 
 seems to have been the first to call the queen Titania. In Romeo 
 and Juliet (i. 4. 53) he gives her the name of Mab. 
 
 Line 65. — Till all their fairy elves, etc. Here the language of 
 Shakespeare is closely copied. He says (ii. i. 30) : 
 
 " all their elves for fear 
 Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there." 
 
 Line 69. — A little changeling boy. Fairies were supposed to steal 
 pretty babies and leave their own offspring instead. In the old 
 ballad of The Merry Pranks of Robin Goodfellow (see our Fairy 
 Tales, page 52), the mischievous elf says : 
 
 " When larks gin* sing 
 
 Away we fling, 
 And babes new-born steal as we go ; 
 
 An elf in bed 
 
 We leave instead, 
 And wend us, laughing ho, ho, ho 1" 
 
 See also Spenser's Faerie Qiteene, i. 10. 65 : 
 
 " From thence a Fairy thee unweeting reft. 
 There as thou slept in tender swadling band ; 
 And her base Elfin brood there for thee left : 
 Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaung'd by Faeries theft." t 
 
 Page 2O5 line 77. — /// met by moonlight, etc. This is from the 
 play (ii. i. 60) : 
 
 " Oberon. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. 
 
 Titania. What, jealous Oberon ! Fairies, skip hence : 
 I have forsworn his bed and company. 
 
 Oberon. Tarry, rash wanton ! Am not I thy lord ? 
 « * * * * * * 
 
 Why should Titania cross her Oberon ? 
 I do but beg a little changeling boy. 
 To be my henchman.J 
 
 * Begin (to). 
 
 t For other illustrative quotations, see the long note in Fairy Tales, p. 147. 
 
 X Page. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 195 
 
 Titania. Set your heart at rest : 
 
 The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Oberofi. Well, go thy way : thou shalt not from this grove 
 Till I torment thee for this injury." 
 
 Line 88. — Fuck. The description of this mischievous elf is from 
 Shakespeare in all its details. 
 
 Page 2I5 line 114. — Love in Idleness. That is, love in vain. The 
 flower is the pansy, or heart's-ease, which is as familiar in this coun- 
 try as in England. 
 
 Line 120. — Though it be a lion, etc. Compare the play (ii. i. 179) : 
 
 " The next thing that she waking looks upon, 
 Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, 
 On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, 
 She shall pursue it with the soul of love ; 
 And ere I take this charm from off her sight, 
 As I can take it with another herb, 
 I '11 make her render up her page to me." 
 
 Line 125. — To his heart. With all his heart, as we should say. 
 Page 22, line 152. — Her fairy bower. Shakespeare's description 
 of it is very beautiful (ii. 2. 246) : 
 
 " I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, 
 Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, 
 Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, 
 With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine. 
 There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, 
 LuU'd in these flowers with dances and delight ; 
 And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, 
 Weed* wide enough to wrap a fairy in." 
 
 Line 161. — Cankers. Shakespeare uses this for canker-worms, 
 making Titania say (ii. 2. i) : 
 
 " Come, now a roundel f and a fairy song ; 
 Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; 
 Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, 
 Some war with rere-mice % for their leathern wings, 
 To make my small elves coats, and some keep back 
 The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders 
 At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep." 
 
 In the play the song has a second stanza, as follows : 
 
 " Weaving spiders, come not here ; 
 
 Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence ! 
 
 * Robe, garment; now used only of mourning apparel 
 
 t Commonly a song, but here a dance in a 7-ound^ or circle. 
 
 X Bats ; as it is made in the story. 
 
196 NOTES. 
 
 Beetles black, approach not near • 
 Worm nor snail do no offence. 
 Philomel, with melody, " etc. 
 
 Page 25^ line 240. — " Oh r said she, etc. Compare the play (ii. 
 2. 123) ; 
 
 " Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born ? 
 When at your hands did I deserve this scorn ? 
 Is 't not enough, is 't not enough, young man, 
 That I did never, no, nor never can, 
 Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye. 
 But you must flout* my insufficiency? 
 Good troth,t you do me wrong, — good sooth, you do, — • 
 In such disdainful manner me to woo. 
 But fare you well : perforce X I must confess 
 I thought you lord of more true gentleness." 
 
 Here we follow the original text by printing Oh ! Properly there 
 is a distinction between O and oh, the former being an interjection 
 of address, the latter of emotion (surprise, fear, pain, etc.) ; but O is 
 now generally used in both senses, and oh is becoming obsolete. 
 
 Page 265 line 277. — Fell to high words. Began to quarrel. 
 
 Line 278. — // is you have set. That is, you who have set. Com- 
 pare the play (iii. 2. 222) : 
 
 " Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn. 
 To follow me, and praise my eyes and face ? 
 And made your other love, Demetrius, — 
 Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, — 
 To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, 
 Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this 
 To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander 
 Deny your love, so rich within his soul, 
 And tender me, forsooth, affection, 
 But by your setting on, by your consent?" 
 
 Line 289. — In fashion of a double cherry. This pretty comparison 
 is Shakespeare's (iii. 2. 208) : 
 
 " So w.e grew together. 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted. 
 But yet an union in partition ; 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem." 
 
 Line 295. — Persevere. In the play the word is persever (per-sev'- 
 er), as it was spelled and pronounced in the time of Shakespeare : 
 
 " Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, 
 Make mouths upon me when I turn my back ; 
 
 * Mock, make sport of. 
 
 t In truth ; troth being the same word as truth. Sooth has the same meaning. 
 
 X Of necessity. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 197 
 
 Wink at each other ; hold the sweet jest up ; 
 This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. 
 If you have any pity, grace, or manners, 
 You would not make me such an argument."* 
 
 Pag"© 27 J line 309. — Kitig of shadows. Shakespeare's words (iii. 
 2. 347) : " Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook." 
 
 Page 29^ line 339. — Ak ! what ajigel, etc. All the dialogue that 
 follows is copied from the play, but, being made up of fragments 
 taken from two different scenes (iii. i and iv. i), it cannot be well 
 illustrated by quotations. 
 
 Page 30j line 377. — Marvellous hairy. The expression is from 
 the play, marvellotis being used adverbially, as adjectives often were. 
 
 Page 32^ line 460. — If any are offended, etc. This is suggested 
 by what Puck says at the end of the play: 
 
 " If we shadows have offended. 
 
 Think but this, and all is mended, — 
 That you have but slumber' d here, 
 While these visions did appear." 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 The comedy of Much Ado About Nothing was probably written in 
 1599, and the story was taken from the Italian, where it had been 
 told by Ariosto (1474-1533) in his Orlando Furioso, and also by a 
 novelist named Matteo Bandello (1480-1561). Spenser (1552-1599) 
 had already made use of the tale, with some variations, in the Faerie 
 Queene (ii. 4. 17), this part of the poem having been published in 
 1590. 
 
 Page 34^ line 36. — A perfect war of raillery, etc. Leonato says 
 in the opening scene of the play, referring to Beatrice : " There is a 
 kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her ; they never 
 meet but there 's a skirmish of wit between them." 
 
 Line 46. — Said she tvotild eat all he had killed. In the first scene 
 Beatrice says to the messenger who announces the coming of Bene- 
 dick : " I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these 
 wars? But how many hath he killed? for indeed I promised to 
 eat all of his killing." 
 
 Page 35j line 48. — The prince'' s jester. Beatrice compares Bene- 
 dick to the domestic fool or clown, who was one of the regular serv- 
 
 * Subject (that is, of scorn or derision). 
 
198 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ants in the households of wealthy people. His duty was to make 
 sport for his employers. He wore a fantastic dress of motley colors, 
 with a peculiar cap adorned with small bells. See the description 
 of Wamba the Jester in Scott's Ivanhoe, quoted in our Tales of 
 Chivalry (pages 42-45), and the notes on the same. 
 
 Page 36j line 79. — Do yoji affect Hero ? Compare the play (i. i. 
 298): 
 
 '■'•Don Pedro. Dost thou affect her, Claudio? 
 Claudia. O, my lord, 
 
 When you went onward on this ended action, 
 
 I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, 
 
 That Hk'd, but had a rougher task in hand 
 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love ; 
 
 But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts 
 
 Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
 
 Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
 
 All prompting me how fair young Hero is. 
 
 Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars, — 
 Don Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, 
 
 And tire the hearer with a book of words. 
 
 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it. 
 
 And I will break with * her and with her father, 
 
 And thou shalt have her." 
 
 Line 90. — Accept of Claudia., etc. We find accept <?/" several times 
 in these Tales, but the transitive accept is to be preferred. Shake- 
 speare has the latter much oftener than the former. 
 
 Page 37, line 121. — Come hither, Leonato, etc. This dialogue is 
 almost the same as in the play (ii. 3. 91) : 
 
 '■'■ Don Pedro. Come hither, Leonato. What was it you 
 told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with 
 Signior Benedick? 
 
 Claudio. * * * I did never think that lady would have 
 loved any man. 
 
 Leonato. No, nor I neither : t but most wonderful that 
 she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in 
 all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor." 
 
 Line 128. — Confirmed all this with saying., etc. By saying would 
 be more in accordance with good usage. Shakespeare generally 
 has confirm by, though he occasionally uses with. 
 
 Line 136. — It were good, etc. Compare the play (ii. 3. 160) : 
 
 '•^ Don Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by 
 some other, if she will not discover % it. 
 
 * Break or broach the subject to. 
 
 t Double negatives like this were used by good writers and speakers in the 
 time of Shakespeare. % Disclose, reveal. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 199 
 
 Claudia. To what end? He would but make a sport of it 
 and torment the poor lady worse. 
 
 Doti Pedro. An* he should, it were an alms t to hang 
 him. She 's an excellent sweet lady. * * * 
 
 Claudia. And she is exceeding wise. 
 
 Don Pedro. In everything but loving Benedick." 
 
 Page 38^ line 141. — An excellent sweet lady and exceeding wise. 
 Both excellent and exceeding are adverbs here, as often in Shake- 
 speare, from whom these examples are taken. It might be thought 
 that excellent was an adjective (" an excellent, sweet lady ") ; but a 
 comparison with other passages in Shakespeare proves the contrary. 
 We often find it used by itself as an adverb ; as in *' Thou didst it 
 excellent" {Taming of the Shrew, ind. I. 89) ; and joined with an- 
 other adverb ; as "excellent well " {Othello, ii. 3. 121), etc. 
 
 Line 148. — Is it possible ? Sits the wind ijt that corner? This is 
 taken directly from the play. Sits the wind in that corner ? means, 
 Does the wind blow from that quarter ? in other words. Is that the 
 way things are going ? 
 
 The soliloquy that follows is nearly the same as in the play. 
 
 Page 39^ line 169. — / am a Jew. Much the same as / am a 
 villain, the Jews being treated with great contempt in the time of 
 Shakespeare. See what Shylock says on page 94. 
 
 Line 171. — Caught in the net. In this expression, as in Sits the 
 wind in that cortier ? above, we have an example oi figurative lan- 
 guage, or a variation from the ordinary, or literal, use of language. 
 Benedick is like a creature caught in a net, because he has been 
 deceived by the trick played upon him. This particular form of 
 figurative language, called a metaphor (from a Greek word meaning 
 a change, or exchange, of words), is an indirect or implied compari- 
 son. If the expression had been ^^ like a creature caught in a net," 
 or *' as if caught in a net," the comparison would have been direct, 
 and it would be called a simile (a Latin word meaning similar, which 
 is derived from it). 
 
 Line 180. — Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, etc. This is 
 from the play (iii. i. 8), with some changes : 
 
 "Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,. 
 Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites, 
 Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 
 Against that power that bred it." 
 
 The use of like makes the comparison a direct one, or a simile. 
 The word minion formerly meant a favorite, without the con- 
 
 * If. t A charitable deed. 
 
200 NOTES. 
 
 temptuous sense that it now has. A writer of Shakespeare's day 
 uses the expression, "God's disciple and his dearest minion." 
 
 Line 185. — Presently. In Shakespeare, as in other writers of the 
 time, prese7itly almost always means instantly. This is well illus- 
 trated in the Te7npest (iv. I. 42), where Prospero tells Ariel to sum- 
 mon certain spirits, and Ariel asks "Presently?" to which his mas- 
 ter replies, "Ay, with a twink ;" that is, "in the twinkling of an eye." 
 See also i Samuel, ii. 16, and Matthew, xxvi. 53. Similarly, present 
 often means instant; as in "present death" {Lucrece, 1263), etc. 
 
 Line 192. — A^ow begin, etc.. This is from the play, where it is 
 arranged thus (iii. i. 24) : 
 
 "Now begin; 
 For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
 Close by the ground, to hear our conference. ' ' 
 
 Here we have another simile. Beatrice is compared to a lapwing, 
 a bird common in England, but not known in this country, some-, 
 what like our plover. Its nest is made on the ground, and old writ- 
 ers have many allusions to its endeavors to mislead persons who 
 might steal the eggs, which are much sought for food. Yarrell, in 
 his History of British Birds, says : " The female birds invariably, 
 upon being disturbed, run from the eggs, and then fly near to the 
 ground for a short distance, without uttering any alarm cry." 
 
 Line 195. — No, truly, Ursula, etc. Compare the play (iii. i. 34) : 
 
 " No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; 
 I know her spirits are as coy and wild 
 As haggards of the rock. ' ' 
 
 Haggards were wild hawks, as distinguished from those that were 
 tamed and trained to hunt other birds. 
 
 Page 4O5 line 203. — Lest she make spoi't of it. All the editions 
 of Lamb have ^^made sport," apparently on account of the past 
 tense in " it wej-e not good ;" but Shakespeare has : 
 
 " And therefore certainly it were not good 
 She knew his love, lest she make sport at it." 
 
 The use of the present here would be good English now. 
 
 Line 206. — Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. This is 
 from Shakespeare word for word ; and so is the reply. In the rest 
 of thejdialogue there are but a few slight changes from the language 
 of the play. Excellent is used adverbially, as in line 141. 
 
 Line 223. — What fire is in mine ears? In the play (iii. 3. 107) 
 this is in rhyme : 
 
 " What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true? 
 
 Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 201 
 
 Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu J 
 
 No glory lives behind the back of such. 
 And, Benedick, love on ; I will requite thee. 
 
 Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand : 
 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
 
 To bind our loves up in a holy band ; 
 For others say thou dost deserve, and I 
 Believe it better than reportingly." 
 
 Page 42, line 246. — Borachio. If this were the Italian form of 
 the name, ch should be pronounced like k ; but, like Petrnchio (in 
 the Taming of the Shrew) and certain other names, it is Anglicized 
 (made English, or put into an English form) in order to suggest the 
 proper pronunciation. The Italian form would be Boraccio (pro- 
 nounced Bo-ra'-chi-o). 
 
 Page 43, line 280. — Nrnghty. This word formerly had a much 
 stronger meaning than at present. Compare Proverbs, vi, 12: "A 
 naughty person, a wicked man, walketh with a froward mouth." 
 See also the noun naughtiness (wickedness) in i Samuel, xvii. 28, 
 Proverbs, xi. 6, etc. 
 
 Line 289. — Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide ? The 
 question is in the exact words of the play. 
 
 Line 294. — Have gone about. That is, have sought or endeavored. 
 Go about was formerly very common in this sense. Cf. Shakespeare, 
 Midsummer- Nighfs Dream, iv. i. 212 : " man is but an ass if he go 
 about to expound this dream." See also Romans, x. 3. 
 
 Page 44, line 301. — True, O God! There is a strange misap- 
 prehension of Shakespeare here. The dialogue in the play (iv. i. 
 63) is as follows : 
 
 " Leoiiato. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? ' 
 Dojt John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. 
 Benedick. This looks not like a nuptial. 
 Hero. True! OGod!" 
 
 Hero's exclamation refers to what Don John has said, which affects 
 her so much that she does not hear, or at least does not regard, what 
 Benedick says. 
 
 Line 319. — He had attentively marked the lady's countenance, etc. 
 In- the play.(iv. i. 156) the friar says: 
 
 " I have mark'd 
 A thousand blushing apparitions 
 To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames 
 In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ; 
 And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire 
 To burn the errors that these princes hold 
 Against her maiden truth Call me a fool ; 
 
202 NOTES. 
 
 Trust not my reading nor my observations, 
 Which with experimental seal doth warrant 
 The tenour of my book : trust not my age, 
 My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 
 If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
 Under some biting error. 
 
 ***** 
 Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? 
 
 Hero. They know that do accuse me ; I know none : 
 If I know more of any man alive 
 Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, 
 Let all my sins lack mercy ! — O my father, 
 Prove you that any man with me convers'd 
 At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
 Maintain' d the change of words with any creature, 
 Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death ! 
 
 Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes." 
 
 Page 45j line 345. — What shall become of this ? These are 
 Shakespeare's words. We should now say, " What will come of 
 this ?" that is, what will be the result of it ? The reply of the friar 
 is condensed from the play, with little change in the language. 
 There is one alteration worth noting. For "interest in his hearf'' 
 the play has "interest in his liver ;'''' and there are many passages 
 in Shakespeare (see quotation on p. 210) and other old writers in 
 which the liver is represented as the seat of love. The idea was a 
 very ancient one, being found in Greek and Latin literature. 
 
 Line 360. — The smallest twine may lead me. This metaphor (see 
 note on page 39, line 171) is from the play. What does it mean in 
 literal language? 
 
 Page 4:6j line 369. — Lady Beatrice., have you wept all this while ? 
 The question is from the play, and the dialogue that follows is all 
 copied from Shakespeare with no change except slight conden- 
 sation. 
 
 Line 380. — Nor I deny nothing. For the double negative, see 
 on page 37, line 121 (foot-note). 
 
 Line 381. — By my s^vord. The sword was often used in swear- 
 ing because the hilt was in the form of a cross, and sometimes had 
 a cross inscribed upon it. Compare Hamlet (i. 5) where Hamlet 
 makes his friends swear upon his sword that they will say nothing 
 about the visit of his father's ghost. 
 
 Line 392. — A proper saying! That is, an improper or false say- 
 ing. This is an example of that form of figurative language called 
 irony. The meaning is the opposite of that which the words nat- 
 urally or literally express. The tone in which they are spoken, or 
 the connection in which they are used, makes the real meaning 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 203 
 
 clear. Irony is seldom used except for conveying blame or censure 
 under the form of praise. 
 
 Page 48, line 442. — His beloved Hero's image^ etc. Compare 
 the play (v. i. 259), where Claudio exclaims: 
 
 " Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear 
 In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first ;" 
 
 that is, in the beautiful form ifi which I first loved it. Shakespeare 
 often omits the preposition in a relative clause when it has been 
 expressed in the main sentence, and sometimes even when it has 
 not been so expressed. 
 
 Line 444. — Like iron. Whdit figure (or form of figurative language) 
 is this.? What other example of it just below ? 
 
 Page 4:9j line 458. — An Ethiop. An Ethiopian or negro. The 
 word is Shakespeare's. 
 
 Line 467. — Give me your hand, etc. Compare the play (v. 4. 58) : 
 
 " Claudio. Give me your hand ; before this holy friar, 
 I am your husband, if you like of* me. 
 
 Hero. And wlien I liv'd I was your other wife; {^Utitnasking. 
 And when you lov'd you were my other husband. 
 
 Claudio. Another Hero ! 
 
 Hero. Nothing certainer ; 
 
 One Hero died defil'd, but I do live. 
 And, surely as I live, I am a maid. 
 
 Don Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that is dead ! 
 
 Leonato. She died, my lord, but whiles t her slander liv'd." 
 
 Line 483. — Challenging her with. Charging her with ; a meaning 
 oi challenge now obsolete. Shakespeare has challenge for \\\ Mac- 
 beth, iii. 4. 42 ; and challenged of occurs in Titns Andronicus, i. i. 
 340. 
 
 Page 50j line 494. — That he took her but for pity, etc. Com- 
 pare the play (v. 4. 92) • 
 
 ' ' Benedick. Come, I will have thee ; but, by this light, I 
 take thee for pity. 
 
 Beatrice. I would not deny you ; but, by this good day, I 
 yield upon great persuasion ; and partly to save your life, for 
 I was told you were m a consumption." 
 
 Line 502. — A brave punishment. In the last speech of the play, 
 Benedick, upon hearing that Don John has been taken, says : "Think 
 not on him till to-morrow : I '11 devise thee brave punishments for 
 him." 
 
 See on page 10, line 288 (foot-note). t While ; an old form. 
 
204 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Shakespeare's As You Like It was written at about the same 
 time as Much Ado About Nothing, probably in 1599. The story was 
 taken from a novel by Thomas Lodge (1555-1625) entitled Rosa- 
 lyjide, and first published in 1590. Lodge was indebted for some 
 of the main incidents to The Cokes'^ Tale of Gamelyn, formerly 
 supposed to be Chaucer's, but now generally believed to be the 
 work of some other writer. 
 
 Pag'e 51^ line 6. — The Forest of Ar den. The Forest of Ardennes 
 was in the northeastern part of France. This is probably the local- 
 ity that Lodge had in mind as the scene of his story, though his 
 lions are much out of place in it. There was another Forest of 
 Arden in Warwickshire, the English county in which Shakespeare 
 was born. 
 
 Page 52j line 13. — Here they lived like the old Robin Hood, etc. 
 Compare the play (i. i. 120) : "They say he is already in the For- 
 est of Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and there they live 
 like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gen- 
 tlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they 
 did in the golden world." Robin Hood was a famous outlaw and 
 robber, who, according to old ballads and traditions, haunted Sher- 
 wood Forest, in Nottinghamshire, and Barnsdale Forest, in York- 
 shire, in the 12th century; but it is more probable that he lived in 
 the i4th century. For one of the stories about him see our Tales 
 of Chivalry, pages 84-91. 
 
 The Golden Age (or the golden world, as Shakespeare calls it), 
 according to the Latin poet Ovid, was an early period of innocence 
 and happiness, when men were pure and good without laws or 
 rulers. The earth brought forth all things necessary for man with- 
 out labor, and the year was a perpetual spring. 
 
 Line 18. — These poor dappled fools. The expression is from 
 Shakespeare, who, like other writers of the time, sometimes used 
 fool as a term of endearment, though generally with the added idea 
 of pity. Compare the play (ii. i. 21) where the banished duke says : 
 
 " Come, shall we go and kill us venison? 
 And yet it irks t me the poor dappled fools, 
 Being native burghers X of this desert city, 
 Should in their own confines § with forked heads || 
 Have their round haunches gor'd- " 
 
 * Cook's. t Troubles, pains. % Citizens. 
 
 § Accented on the second syllable. II With forked (barbed) arrows. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT 205 
 
 Line 27. — Their tooth is jiothing like so keen, etc. Compare the 
 song in the play (ii. 7. 174) : 
 
 " Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 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. " « 
 
 Line 29. — Yet some sweet uses are to be extracted from it. This is 
 taken from a famous and beautiful passage in the play (ii. i. 22) : 
 
 " Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
 And this our life, exempt from public haunt. 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 
 
 It was commonly believed in Shakespeare's time that toads were 
 venomous, and also that they had this "precious jewel," or " toad- 
 stone," in their heads. The stone was said to be beautiful, and also 
 to have certain medicinal properties. Its virtues are set forth by 
 many learned writers of the i6th and 17th centuries. 
 
 Page 53j line 58. — Which is only practised now by cowitry cloivns. 
 A better arrangement would be, "which is practised now only by 
 country clowns " (or " now practised only," etc.). Why .? 
 
 Line 70. — How now, daughter and niece, etc. In the play (i. 2. 164) 
 Duke Frederick says : " How now, daughter and cousin ! * are you 
 crept hither to see the wrestling? . . . You will take little delight 
 in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men. In pity of the 
 challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be 
 entreated. Speak to him, ladies ; see if you can move him." They 
 appeal to him, but he replies almost exactly in the words here 
 ascribed to him. 
 
 Pag"© 54^ line 97. — The friendless state which he said he was in, 
 and that he wished to die. The construction is awkward. "And 
 his wish to die," or " and which made him wish to die," would be 
 better. 
 
 Page 55j line 113. — Sir Rowland de Boys. The name Boys, or 
 Bois, is French, and properly pronounced Bwah ; but French names 
 
 * Cousin was formerly used in a loose sense for almost any relationship except 
 the very nearest. In Shakespeare, for instance, it is applied to nephews, nieces, 
 uncles, brothers-in-law, and grandchildren. It was sometimes even employed by 
 princes in addressing other princes or noblemen not related at all to themselves. 
 
2o6 NOTES. 
 
 in Shakespeare's plays were generally Anglicized (see note on page 
 42, line 246 ), as we know from puns upon the words, and also from 
 their use in metx'e and rhyme. 
 
 Pag'e 56^ line 142. — Is it possible, etc. Compare the play (i. 
 3. 26) : 
 
 " Celia. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall 
 into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest 
 son ? # 
 
 Rosalind. The duke my father loved his father dearly. 
 Celia. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his 
 son dearly ? By this kind of chase,* T should hate him, for 
 my father hated his father dearly ; t yet I hate not Orlando." 
 
 Line 159. — I did not then, etc. Compare the play (i. 3. 67): 
 
 " Celia. I did not then entreat to have her stay ; 
 It was your pleasure and your own remorse. $ 
 I was too young that time to value her, 
 But now I know her : if she be a traitor, 
 Why so am I ; we still have slept together. 
 Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, 
 And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
 Still we went coupled and inseparable. 
 
 Diike Frederick. She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness, 
 Her very silence and her patience. 
 Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
 Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name, 
 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous 
 When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : 
 Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
 Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd." 
 
 Line 164. — Ate together. The early editions of Lamb have "eat," 
 which Shakespeare uses in the corresponding passage (see preceding 
 note), as often elsewhere for both the past tense and the participle. 
 So he has rose for risen. 
 
 Pag'e 57^ line 184. — The tallest. The comparative is the better 
 form in referring to one of two objects or classes of objects, but the 
 superlative has been used more or less by good writers from very 
 early times. See Matzner's English Grammar, vol. iii. p. 284. 
 
 Line 187. — Gatiimed. The usual spelling is Ganymede (Gan'-i- 
 meed),/ollowing the Latin Ganymedes (Gan-i-me'-dez), but Lamb 
 gives it an English form. It was the name of a beautiful boy who 
 
 * Reasoning, or following out the argument. 
 
 t That is, intensely or ardently. Dear and dearly were formerly applied to 
 any strong feeling whether of love or hatred. Thus we find in Shakespeare 
 "dearest foe" {Hamlet, i. 2. 182), "dearest enemy" {Henry IV. iii. 2. 123), etc. 
 
 X Pity. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT, 
 
 207 
 
 became the cup-bearer of Zeus (Zus), or Jupiter, the king of the 
 gods. In the play Rosalind says (i. 2. 126): 
 
 "I '11 have no worse a name than Jove's own page, 
 And therefore look you call me Ganymede." 
 
 She then asks Celia what she will be called, and the reply is : 
 
 " Something that hath a reference to my state ; 
 No longer Celia, but Aliena." 
 
 Aliena is a Latin word meaning a stranger, or foreigner, and there- 
 fore it will be appropriate to her condition as a stranger in a strange 
 land. 
 
 Page 58j line 211. — The weaker vessel. — This is from Shake- 
 speare, who copies it from i Peter, iii. 7 : "giving honor unto the 
 wife, as unto the weaker vessel." 
 
 Page 60, line 283. — O my gentle master, etc. This is from the 
 play (ii. 3. 2) with little change : 
 
 *^ Adatn. What, my young master ! O my gentle master! 
 O my sweet master ! O you memory 
 Of old Sir Rowland ! why, what make " you here ? 
 Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you ? 
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? 
 Why would you be so fond t to overcome 
 The bonny prisert of the humorous § duke? 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
 Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
 Their graces serve them but as enemies ? 
 
 O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
 Envenoms him that bears it ! 
 
 Orlando. Why, what's the matter ? 
 
 Adam- O unhappy youth 1 
 
 Come not within these doors ; within this roof 
 The enemy of all your graces lives. 
 Your brc Iher — no, no brother ; yet the son — 
 Yet not the son, I will not call him son 
 Of him I was about to call his father — 
 Hath heard your praises, and this night he means 
 To burn the lodging where you use to lie 
 And you within it ; if he fail of that. 
 He will have other means to cut you off. 
 
 rj: :(: rii ;(: :f: 
 
 Orlando. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? 
 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 
 Orlando. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ? 
 Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 
 
 * Do t So foolish as. X The gallant prize-fighter, § Capricious. 
 
2o8 NOTES. 
 
 A thievish living on the common road ? 
 This I must do, or know not what to do ; 
 Yet this I will not do, do how I can- 
 
 ******* 
 Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, 
 The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, 
 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 
 When service should in my old limbs lie lame 
 And unregarded age in corners thrown. 
 Take that, and He that does the ravens feed. 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,* 
 Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
 All this I give you. Let me be your servant ; 
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty, 
 
 I '11 do the service of a younger man ' 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Orlaiido. O good old man ! how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique world, 
 When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 
 Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
 Where none will sweat but for promotion. 
 
 ****** 
 But come thy ways ; we '11 go along together, 
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent 
 We '11 light upon some settled low content, "t 
 
 Page 61j line 309. — For both our maintenance. That is, for the 
 maintenance of us both. The use of the singular noun is peculiar. 
 Shakespeare always has the plural in similar constructions ; as 
 " were you both our mothers " (that is, the mother of us both) in 
 All 'j- Well, i. 3. 169 ; " both our remedies " (the remedy for us both) 
 in Romeo and Jttliet, ii. 3. 51, etc. 
 
 Page 62, line 341. — Pardon me, I pray you, etc. Compare the 
 play (ii. 7. 106) : 
 
 " Orlando. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you : 
 I thought that all things had been savage here, 
 And therefore put I on the countenance 
 Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are, 
 That in this desert inaccessible. 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs. 
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time, 
 If ever you have look'd on better days, 
 
 * See Job, xxxviii. 41 ; Psalms, cxlvii. 9 ; Matthew, x. 29 ; and Luke, xii. 6. 
 
 24- 
 
 t That is, some place where we may get a humble living and settle down con- 
 tented. It is a good example of the manner in which Shakespeare often expresses 
 a great deal in few words. 
 
AS V0[/ LIKE IT. 2og 
 
 If ever been where bells have knoU'd* to church, 
 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast, 
 
 If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, 
 
 And know what 't is to pity and be pitied, 
 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be ; 
 
 In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. 
 
 Duke. True is it that we have seen better days, 
 And have with holy bell been knoll' d to church. 
 And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes 
 Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd ; 
 And therefore sit you down in gentleness, 
 And take upon command what help we have 
 That to your wanting may be minister'd. 
 
 Orlando. Then but forbear your food a little while, 
 Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn. 
 And give it food. There is an old poor man 
 Who after me hath many a weary step 
 Limp'd in pure love : till he be first suffic'd, — 
 Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, — 
 I will not touch a bit. 
 
 Duke. Go find him out, 
 
 And we will nothing waste till you return. 
 
 Orlando. I thank ye, and be blest for your good comfort !" 
 
 Page 64^ line 398. — Talked to Orlando of a certain loz'er, etc. 
 Compare the play (iii. 2. 377) : 
 
 " Rosalind. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses 
 our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks, hangs 
 odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, 
 deifying the name of Rosalind : if I could meet that fancy- 
 monger,t I would give him some good counsel, for he seems 
 to have the quotidian t of love upon him. 
 
 Orlando. I am he that is so love-shaked : I pray you, tell 
 me your remedy. 
 
 * * * * * *•* *- 
 
 Rosalind. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the 
 verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired ? 
 
 Orlando. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of 
 Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 
 
 Rosalind. But are you so much in love as your rhymes 
 speak ? 
 
 Orlando. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 
 much. 
 
 Rosalind. Love is merely a madness. . . . Yet I profess 
 curing it by counsel. 
 
 Orlando. Did you ever cure any so ? 
 
 Rosalind. Yes, one ; and in this manner. He was to im- 
 agine me his love, his mistress, and I set him every day to 
 woo me ; at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, 
 
 * Chimed, rung. t Love-monger, one who makes love his business. 
 
 X A kind of fever. 
 
 14 
 
2IO NOTES. 
 
 grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking ; proud, 
 fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of 
 smiles ; for every passion something, and for no passion truly 
 anything. . And thus I cured him ; and in this way will 
 I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's 
 heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. 
 
 Orlando. I would not be cured, youth. 
 
 Rosalind. I would cure you, if you would but call me 
 Rosalind, and come every day to my cote and woo me. 
 
 Orlando. Now, by the faith of ray love, I will." 
 
 Page 665 line 449. — He saw a man lying asleep, etc. Compare 
 the play (iv. 3. 98), where Oliver is telling the story to Rosalind 
 and Celia: 
 
 " Oliver. When last the young Orlando parted from you 
 He left a promise to return again 
 Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, 
 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 
 Lo, what befell ! He threw his eye aside, 
 And mark what object did present itself ! 
 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 
 Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck 
 A green and gilded snake had wreath' d itself. 
 Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd 
 The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly, 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlink' d itself. 
 And with indented glides did slip away 
 Into a bush ; under which bush's shade 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
 Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch 
 When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 't is 
 The royal disposition of that beast 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 
 This seen, Orlando did approach the man. 
 And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 
 
 Celia. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother, 
 And he did render him the most unnatural 
 That liv'd among men ! 
 
 Oliver. And well he might so do, 
 
 For well I know he was unnatural. 
 
 Rosalind. But, to Orlando. — Did he leave him there, 
 Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? 
 
 Oliver. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so ; 
 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
 Made him give battle to the lioness. 
 Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling 
 From miserable slumber I awak'd. 
 
 Celia. Are you his brother ? 
 
 Rosalind, Was it you he rescued ? 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 21 1 
 
 Celia. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ? 
 
 Oliver. 'T was I ; but 't is not I. I do not shame 
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
 So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 
 
 Rosalind. But, for the bloody napkin ? 
 
 Oliver. By and by. 
 
 When from the first to last betwixt us two 
 Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, 
 As how I came into that desert place, — 
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke. 
 Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, 
 Committing me unto my brother's love ; 
 Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
 There stripped himself, and here upon his arm 
 The lioness had torn some flesh away, 
 Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted, 
 And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
 Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound ; 
 And, after some small space, being strong at heart. 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am. 
 To tell this story, that you might excuse 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin 
 Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth 
 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. \_Rosalind swoons, 
 
 Celia. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Ganymede ! 
 
 Oliver. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. 
 
 Celia. There is more in it. — Cousin Ganymede ! 
 
 Oliver. Look, he recovers. 
 
 Rosalind. I would I were at home. 
 
 Celia. We '11 lead you thither. — 
 
 I pray you, will you take him by the arm ? 
 
 Oliver. Be of good cheer, youth.— You a man ! you lack 
 a man's heart. 
 
 Rosalind. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would 
 think this was well counterfeited. I pray you, tell your 
 brother how well I counterfeited. — Heigh-ho! 
 
 Oliver. This was not counterfeit : there is too great testi- 
 mony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. 
 
 Rosalittd. Counterfeit, I assure you, 
 
 Oliver. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to 
 be a man. 
 
 Rosalind. So I do ; but, i' faith, I should have been a 
 woman by right" 
 
 Line 452. — Discovered a lioness lie crouching. We do not now 
 omit the to of the infinitive after discover ; but formerly much greater 
 liberty was allowed in this respect. In Shakespeare, for instance, 
 we find the infinitive without to after suffer, command, intend, desire, 
 wish, vouchsafe, were wont, etc. 
 
 Page 69^ line 513. — He returned back to his brother. What ob- 
 jection may be made to this expression.'' In line 515 what word 
 could be spared ? 
 
212 NOTES. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 The comedy of The Two Gentlemen of Verona is one of the ear- 
 liest of Shakespeare's plays. It was probably written in 1593 or 
 1594, just before the Midsummer- Nighf s Dream. Some of the 
 incidents appear to have been taken from The Story of the Shep- 
 herdess Felismena, written in Spanish by Jorge de Montemayor, a 
 Portuguese poet and novelist. The tale had been dramatized in 
 English as early as 1584 under the title of The History of Felix and 
 Fhilofnena. Shakespeare is also supposed to have borrowed inci- 
 dents or expressions from the Italian novel of Apollonius and Sylla, 
 by Matteo Bandello,* which was translated into English in 1581, 
 and from the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586). 
 
 Page 74-j line 2. — Proteus. This was the name of a sea-god, a 
 son of Neptune, who was noted for his power of changing his shape 
 at will. Hence our word Protean, which is applied to persons or 
 things that readily assume different forms or characters. Very 
 likely Shakespeare chose the name as peculiarly appropriate to the 
 fickle Proteus. The name may be pronounced as directed in the 
 foot-note on page 74, or, after the Greek fashion, as a dissyllable 
 (Pro'-teus), like Theseus (see on page 18, line 14). 
 
 Page 75j line 21. — Cease to persuade me, etc. Compare the open- 
 ing lines of the play : 
 
 " Valentine. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus; 
 Home-keeping youth have ever homely t wits. 
 Were 't not affection chains thy tender days 
 To the sweet glances of thy honour' d love, 
 I rather would entreat thy company 
 To see the wonders of the v/orld abroad 
 Than, living dully sluggardiz'd % at home, 
 Wear out thy youth with shapeless § idleness. 
 But since thou lov'st, love still and thrive therein. 
 Even as I would when I to love begin. 
 
 Proteus. Wilt thou be gone ? Sweet Valentine, adieu ! 
 Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest 
 
 ' See introduction to notes on Much Ado A bout Nothing. 
 
 t The word is derived from hotne. Compare Milton's Comns, 748 : 
 
 " It is for homely features to keep home ; 
 ' They had their name thence." 
 
 X Lazy, like a sluggard. 
 
 § The word implies that idleness is unfavorable to the shaping or forming of 
 manly character. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 213 
 
 Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel ; 
 
 Wish me partaker in thy happiness 
 
 When thou dost meet good hap ; and in thy danger, 
 
 If ever danger do environ thee, 
 
 Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, 
 
 For I will be thy beadsman,* Valentine." 
 
 Line 34. — Valentine began his jom'ney. In the play he is repre- 
 sented as going by sea from Verona to Milan. Shakespeare was 
 careless about geographical details. 
 
 Page 76^ line 59. — Go, get you gone, etc. Compare the play 
 (i. 2. 100) : 
 
 " yiilia. Go get you gone, and let the papers lie ; 
 You would be fingering them, to anger me. 
 
 Lucetta. She makes it strange ; but she would be best pleas'd 
 To be so anger'd with another letter. \_Exit. 
 
 Julia. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same ! 
 
 hateful hands, to tear such loving words ! 
 Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey, 
 And kill the bees that yield it with your stings ! 
 
 1 '11 kiss each several t paper for amends. 
 Look, here is writ ' kind Julia.' — Unkind Julia ! 
 As in revenge of thy ingratitude, 
 
 I throw thy name against the bruising stones, X 
 
 Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
 
 And here is writ ' love-wounded Proteus.' — 
 
 Poor wounded name ! my bosom as a bed 
 
 Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly § heal'd ; 
 
 And thus I search || it with a sovereign kiss. 
 
 But twice or thrice was ' Proteus ' written down. 
 
 Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away 
 
 Till I have found each letter in the letter, 
 
 Except mine own name ; that some whirlwind bear 
 
 Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock, 
 
 And throw it thence into the raging sea! 
 
 Lo 1 here in one line is his name twice writ, 
 
 ' Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
 
 To the sweet Julia;' that I '11 tear away, — 
 
 And yet I will not, sith IF so prettily 
 
 He couples it to his complaining names." 
 
 Line 64. — Such-like. This combination was formerly much used, 
 and it often occurs in Shakespeare ; but it is not to be commended 
 now. Why .'* 
 
 * One who prays in behalf of another ; from the Anglo-Saxon bead, prayer. 
 
 t Separate. + The floor of marble or other stone, as often in Italy. 
 
 § Thoroughly. Thorough and through are forms of the same word. In Shake- 
 speare we find either as the preposition, and also in derivatives; as through/ares 
 or thoroughfares., throughly or thoroughly. 
 
 II Probe, try to cure. H Since. 
 
214 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Page 77j line 79. — Sweet love! — Sweet lines! etc. Compare the 
 play (i. 3. 45) : 
 
 " Proteus. Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life! 
 ****** * 
 
 heavenly Julia ! 
 
 A ntonio. How now ! what letter are you reading there ? 
 
 Proteus. May 't please your lordship, 't is a word or two 
 Of commendations sent from Valentine, 
 Deliver'd by a friend that came from him. 
 
 A ntonio. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news. 
 
 Protetis. There is no news, my lord, but that he writes 
 How happily he lives, how well belov'd 
 And daily graced by the emperor ; 
 Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. 
 
 A ntonio. And how stand you affected to his wish ? 
 
 Proteus. As one relying on your lordship's will, 
 And not depending on his friendly wish- 
 
 Antonio. My will is something sorted* with his wish. 
 Muse t not that I thus suddenly proceed ; 
 For what I will I will, and there an end. 
 
 1 am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time 
 With Valentinus in the emperor's court. 
 What maintenance he from his friends receives, 
 Like exhibition % thou shalt have from me. 
 To-morrow be in readiness to go ; 
 
 Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. 
 
 Proteus. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided ; § 
 Please you, deliberate a day or two. 
 
 A ntonio. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee ; 
 No more of stay ! to-morrow thou must go- — 
 Come on, Panthino; |1 you shall be employ'd 
 To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt Antonio and Panthino. 
 
 Proteus. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning, 
 And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. 
 I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter. 
 Lest he should take exceptions to my love ; 
 And with the vantage IT of mine own excuse 
 Hath he excepted most against my love." 
 
 Line 102. — Some to discover islands far away. This is from the 
 play, and alludes 10 voyages of discovery to what was then the " new 
 world " of America. 
 
 Page 79j line 153. — The tvelcome news, etc. Compare the play 
 (ii. 4. 48) : 
 
 '■'•Duke. Sir Valentine, your father 's in good health. 
 What say you to a letter from your friends 
 Of much good news? 
 
 * Somewhat suited or accordant. t Wonder. 
 
 % Allowance (of money). § Prepared to go, equipped. 
 
 II Panthino (Pan-thi'-no ; i as in machine) is a servant who is present. 
 
 H That is, taking advantage. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 215 
 
 Valeiittm. My lord, I will be thankful 
 
 To any happy messenger from thence. 
 
 Duke. Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman ? 
 
 Valentine. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman 
 To be of worth and worthy estimation, 
 And not without desert so well reputed. 
 
 Duke. Hath he not a son ? 
 
 Valentine. Ay, my good lord ; a son that well deserves 
 The honour and regard of such a father. 
 
 Duke. You know him well ? 
 
 Valentine. I know him as myself; for from our infancy 
 We have convers'd and spent our hours together : 
 And though myself have been an idle truant, 
 Omitting * the sweet benefit of time 
 To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, 
 Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that 's his name. 
 Made use and fair advantage of his days ; 
 His years but young, but his experience old ; 
 His head unmellow'd,t but his judgment ripe ; 
 And, in a word — for far behind his worth 
 Comes all the praises that I now bestow — 
 He is complete in feature and in mind 
 With all good grace to grace a gentleman. 
 
 Duke. Beshrew X me, sir, but if he make this good, 
 He is as worthy for an empress' love 
 As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. 
 Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me, 
 With commendation from great potentates, 
 And here he means to spend his time awhile. 
 I think 'tis no unwelcome news to you. 
 
 Valentine. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. 
 
 Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth.— 
 Silvia, I speak to you, — and you. Sir Thurio. — 
 For § Valentine, I need not cite|| him to it." 
 
 Page 79j line 169. — How does your lady, etc. Compare the play 
 (ii. 4. 123) : 
 
 " Valentine. How does your lady? and how thrives your love? 
 
 Proteus. My tales of love were wont to weary you ; 
 I know you joy not in a love-discourse. 
 
 Valentine. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now. 
 I have done penance for contemning Love, 
 Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me 
 With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, 
 With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ; 
 For in revenge of my contempt of love, 
 Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes. 
 And made them watchers of my own heart's sorrow. 
 
 * Neglecting. t Not ripe, youthful. 
 
 % A mild form of imprecation ; literally, " May evil come to me." 
 § As for. II Summon, bid. 
 
2i6 NOTES. 
 
 gentle Proteus, Love 's a mighty lord, 
 And hath so humbled me as * I confess 
 There is no woe to t his correction, 
 Nor to liis service no such joy on earth. 
 Now no discourse, except it be of love ; 
 
 Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, 
 Upon the very naked name of love." 
 
 Page 81 J line 221. — He then told all he had heard, etc. Com- 
 pare the play (iii. i. 38): 
 
 ^^ Proteus. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a meant 
 How he her chamber-window will ascend, 
 And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; 
 For which the youthful lover now is gone, 
 And this way comes he with it presently. 
 Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. 
 But, good my lord, do it so cunningly 
 That my discovery be not aim^d § at ; 
 For love of you, not hate unto my friend, 
 Hath made me publisher of this pretence. 
 
 Duke. Upon mine honour he shall never know 
 That I had any light from thee of this. 
 
 Proteus. Adieu, my lord ; Sir Valentine is coming. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ? 
 
 Valentine. Please it your grace, there is a messenger 
 That stays to bear my letters to my friends, 
 And I am going to deliver them. 
 
 Duke. Be they of much import ? 
 
 Valentine. The tenour of them doth but signify 
 My health and happy being at your court. 
 
 Duke. Nay then, no matter ; stay with me awhile. 
 
 1 am to break with thee || of some affairs 
 
 That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 
 'T is not unknown to thee that I have sought 
 To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter. 
 
 Valentine. I know it well, my lord, and, sure, the match 
 Were rich and honourable ; besides, the gentleman 
 Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities 
 Beseeming H such a wife as your fair daughter. 
 Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ? 
 
 Duke. No, trust me ; she is peevish, ** sullen, froward, 
 Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty, 
 Neither regarding that she is my child 
 Nor fearing me as if I were her father : 
 And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, 
 Upon advice,tt hath drawn my love from her ; 
 
 • That. t Compared to. t Means. 
 
 § Guessed. II See on page 36, line 79 (foot-note). 
 
 IT Becoming, suiting. ** Silly. tt Reflection, consideration. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 217 
 
 And, where I thought the remnant ol mine age 
 Should have been cherish'd by her childlike duty, 
 I now am full resolv'd to take a wife, 
 And turn her out to who * will take her in. 
 Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower ; 
 For me and my possessions she esteems not. 
 
 Valentine. What would your grace have me to do in this? 
 
 Duke. There is a lady of Verona here 
 Whom I affect ; but she is nice t and coy, 
 And nought esteems my aged eloquence. 
 Now therefore would I have thee to % my tutor — 
 For long agone § 1 have forgot to court ; 
 Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd — 
 How and which way I may bestow || myself 
 To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. 
 
 Valentine. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words. 
 Dumb jewels often in their silent kind 
 More than quick words do move a woman's mmd. 
 
 Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. 
 
 Valentine. A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her. 
 Send her another ; never give her o'er. 
 For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
 
 ******* 
 That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man. 
 If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 
 
 Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends 
 Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, 
 And kept severely from resort of men, 
 That IF no man hath access by day to her. 
 
 Valentine. Why, then, I would resort to her by night. 
 ******* 
 
 Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, 
 And built so shelving that one cannot climb it 
 Without apparent ** hazard of his life. 
 
 Valentine. Why then, a ladder quaintly tt made of cords, 
 To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, 
 Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, 
 So %X bold Leander would adventure it. 
 
 Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, §§ 
 Advise me where I may have such a ladder. 
 
 Valentine- When would you use it? pray, sir, tell m.e that. 
 
 Duke. This very night ; for Love is like a child, 
 That longs for everything that he can come by. 
 
 Valentine. By seven o'clock I '11 get you such a ladder. 
 
 Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone- 
 How shall I best convey the ladder thither? 
 
 Valentine. It will be light, my lord, that |||| you may bear it 
 Under a cloak that is of any length. 
 
 * Whoever. t Fastidious. X For. § Ago. 
 
 II Behave. IT So that. ** Evident, certain. ft Ingeniously. 
 
 XX If. §§ Rank, good family. |||| So that. 
 
2i8 NOTES. 
 
 Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn ? 
 
 Valentine. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Diike. Then let me see thy cloak ; 
 
 I '11 get me one of such another length. 
 
 Valentine- Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. 
 
 Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ? 
 I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. — 
 What letter is this same ? What 's here ? ' To Silvia V 
 And here an engine * fit for my proceeding. 
 I '11 be so bold to break the seal for once. 
 
 ******* 
 What 's here ? 
 
 ' Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee."* 
 'T is so ; and here 's the ladder for the purpose. 
 
 Go, base intruder ! overweening t slave ! 
 
 Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, 
 
 And think my patience, more than thy desert, 
 
 Is privilege for thy departure hence. 
 
 Thank me for this more than for all the favours 
 
 Which all too much I have bestowM on thee. 
 
 But if thou linger in my territories 
 
 Longer than swiftest expedition 
 
 Will give thee time to leave our royal court, 
 
 By heaven ! my wrath shall far exceed the love 
 
 I ever bore my daughter or thyself 
 
 Begone ! I will not hear thy vain excuse ; 
 
 But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence." 
 
 Page 84rj line 306. — She dressed her maiden Lucetta and herself, 
 etc. In the play Julia goes to Milan alone. It will be seen that in 
 the tale Lucetta does not take any part in what follows. 
 
 Page 80, line 359. — Said she knew Julia, etc. Compare the 
 play (iv. 4. 115): 
 
 " Julia. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. 
 
 Silvia. The more shame for him that he sends it me ; 
 For I have heard him say a thousand times 
 His Julia gave it him at his departure. 
 Though his false finger have profan'd the ring. 
 Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 
 
 yulia. She thanks you. 
 
 Silvia. What say'st thou ? 
 
 Julia. I thank you, madam, that you tender J her. 
 Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. 
 
 Silvia. Dost thou know her? 
 
 Julia. Almost as well as I do know myself : 
 To think upon her woes I do protest 
 That I have wept a hundred several times. 
 
 Silvia. Belike § she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. 
 
 * The ladder. t Presumptuous. X Feel kindly for. § Very likely. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 219 
 
 yulia. I think she doth, and that 's her cause of sorrow. 
 
 Silvia. Is she not passing* fair? 
 
 Julia. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is. 
 When she did think my master lov'd her well, 
 She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ; 
 _^ But since she did neglect her looking-glass 
 
 And threw her sun-expelling mask t away, 
 The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks, 
 And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, 
 That now she is become as black J as I. 
 
 Silvia. How tall was she ? 
 
 Julia. About my stature ; for at Pentecost, 
 When all our pageants § of delight were play'd, 
 Our youth got me to play the woman's part, 
 And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, 
 Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, 
 As if the garment had been made for me ; 
 Therefore I know she is about my height. 
 
 Silvia. Alas, poor lady, desolate and left ! 
 I weep myself to think upon thy words. 
 Here, youth, here is my purse ; I give thee this 
 For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her." 
 
 Page 87 J line 398. — Like Robin Hood. See note on page 52, 
 line 13. 
 
 Page 885 line 425. — A lawless banditti. As banditti is a plural 
 (see page 87, foot-note), the use of the article here is incorrect. 
 The singular is banditto, now obsolete. Shakespeare has it once, 
 as an adjective, in 2 Henry VI. iv. i. 135 : " A Roman sworder and 
 banditto slave." The Italian form is bandito, being originally the 
 past participle of the verb bandire, to proscribe or banish. 
 
 Page 89^ line 445. — He expressed such a lively sorrow, etc. 
 Compare the play (v, 4. 73) ; 
 
 '■^Proteus. My shame and guilt confounds me. — 
 Forgive me, Valentine. If hearty sorrow 
 Be a sufficient reason for offence, 
 I tender 't here ; I do as truly suffer 
 As e'er I did commit. 
 
 Valentine. Then I am paid ; 
 
 And once again I do receive || thee honest. 
 Who by repentance is not satisfied 
 Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleas'd. 
 By penitence the Eternal's wrath 's appeas'd; 
 And, that my love may appear plain and free, 
 All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. 
 
 Julia. O me unhappy ! {Swoons. 
 
 * Very. t Ladies used to wear masks to protect their complexion. 
 
 X Dark, sunburnt. § Dramas, plays. II Believe. 
 
2 20 NOTES. 
 
 Proteus. Look to the boy. 
 
 Valentine. Why, boy ! why, wag ! how now ! what 's the 
 matter ? Look up ; speak. 
 
 Jtilia. O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a 
 ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never 
 done. 
 
 Proteus. Where is that ring, boy ? 
 
 Jtdia. Here 't is ; this is it. 
 
 Proteus. How ! let me see. — 
 Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. 
 
 Julia. O, cry you mercy,* sir, I have mistook : 
 This is the ring you sent to Silvia. 
 
 Proteus. But how cam'st thou by this ring ? At my depart 
 I gave this unto Julia. 
 
 Julia. And JuHa herself did give it me ; 
 And Julia herself hath brought it hither. 
 
 Proteus. How! Juha!" 
 
 Valentine's offer to give up Silvia to Proteus is well described as 
 " a sudden flight of heroism " and as an " overstrained and too gen- 
 erous act of friendship " in which he could not long *' persevere." 
 As another writer has said, " he is a man of impulse, of warm, 
 quick feelings, full of romance and enthusiasm ; he is willing to 
 make a heroic sacrifice to show his suddenly restored faith in his 
 repentant friend;" but we see how he loves Silvia by his subsequent 
 indignation when Thurio claims her. It is only for the moment that 
 he fancies he could resign her to his friend. 
 
 Pag'e 90j line 483. — Silvia is mine, etc. See the play (v. 4. 
 121): 
 
 '■''Enter Outlaws, with Duke and Thurio. 
 
 Outlaws. A prize, a prize, a prize ! 
 
 Valentine. Forbear, forbear, I say ! it is my lord the duke. — 
 Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, 
 Banished Valentine. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine ! 
 
 Thurio. Yonder is Silvia : and Silvia 's mine. 
 
 Valentine. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death ; 
 Come not within the measure of my wrath. 
 Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again, 
 Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands : 
 Take but possession of her with a touch ; 
 r dare thee but to breathe upon my love. 
 
 Thtirio. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I. 
 I hold him but a fool that will endanger 
 His body for a girl that loves him not ; 
 I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. 
 
 Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou, 
 To make such means for her as thou hast done, 
 
 * I beg your pardon. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 221 
 
 And leave her on such slight conditions. — 
 
 Now, by the honour of my ancestry, 
 
 I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, 
 
 And think thee worthy of an empress' love. 
 
 Know then, I here forget all former griefs, 
 
 Cancel all grudge, repeal * thee home again. 
 
 ****** 
 Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her." 
 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 The comedy of The Merchant of Vetiice is mentioned in a book 
 printed in 1598, and was probably written a year or two before that 
 time. The main incidents of the plot are found in // Fecorone, a 
 collection of tales by an Italian author, Giovanni Fiorentino, first 
 published at Milan in 1588, though written nearly two hundred years 
 before. We know, however, that there was an English play entitled 
 The Jew, which was written before 1579, and which, from a refer- 
 ence to it in a book of the time, appears to have had a plot similar 
 to that of the Merchmit ; and the best critics believe that Shake- 
 speare was indebted to this earlier play rather than to the Italian 
 story-book. As no copy of The Jew has come down to our day, the 
 question cannot be positively settled. 
 
 Page 92j line I. — A usurer. — The early editions of Lamb have 
 an, which was formerly used before the sounds of long u and h, even 
 in accented syllables ; and it is still retained by some before these 
 sounds in unaccented syllables. The tendency of the day, however, 
 is towards the use of a in all such cases. 
 
 Page 93^ line 12. — The Rialto. This is the name of one of the 
 islands on which Venice was built ; and here in Shakespeare's time 
 was the Exchange, the building where the merchants were accus- 
 tomed to meet for transacting business. The famous Rialto Bridge 
 connects this island with St. Mark's Island, which afterwards be- 
 came the commercial centre of the city. The bridge was begun in 
 1588 and finished in 1591, and until a few years ago it was the only 
 bridge across the Grand Canal, the longest and widest of the many 
 canals in Venice. 
 
 Line 16. — Antonio was the kindest man, etc. Bassanio thus de- 
 scribes Antonio in the play (iii, 3. 287) : 
 
 " The dearest friend to me, the kindest man. 
 The best-condition' d and unwearied spirit 
 
 * Recall. 
 
222 NOTES. 
 
 In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
 The ancient Roman honour more appears 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. " 
 
 Unwearied is here equivalent to most unwearied, as in the tale, 
 the force of the superlative in best being extended to the second 
 adjective. It was more common in Shakespeare's day to make the 
 second adjective superlative; as in "the generous and gravest citi- 
 zens "(most generous and gravest), "the soft and sweetest music" 
 (softest), etc. The adverbial ending -ly was similarly made to do 
 double service; as in " cheerfully and smooth" (smoothly), " spright- 
 fully and bold," " poor and basely," etc. See page 247, first line. 
 
 Than any is equivalent to than in any, the preposition used with 
 whom, two lines above, being " understood." This kind of ellipsis 
 (omission) was also common when Shakespeare wrote. 
 
 Line 33. — He 7ised to visit her, etc. Compare the play (i. I. 161): 
 
 " In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
 And she is fair and, fairer than that word, 
 Of wondrous virtues; sometimes from her eyes 
 I did receive fair speechless messages. 
 Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
 To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia." 
 
 Page 94^ line 50. — If I can once catch him, etc. This meta- 
 phor (see on page 39, line 171), which is taken from wrestling, is 
 from the play (i. 3. 43) : 
 
 " I hate him for he is a Christian, 
 But more for that, in low simplicity, 
 He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate. 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him ! ' ' 
 
 Line 54. — Which he calls interest. We do not now use interest in 
 a bad sense, but in Shakespeare's day it was equivalent to usury or 
 usance. It was then considered disreputable to take interest at all. 
 Bacon (i 561 -1626), in his Essay on Usury, quotes the assertion that 
 it is " against nature for money to beget money." 
 
 Line 59. — Signior Antonio, on the Rialto, etc. Compare the play 
 (i. 3. 107): 
 
 " Shylock. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
 In the Rialto, you have rated * me 
 
 * Chided. 
 
223 
 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 
 
 About my moneys and my usances : 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
 And spet* upon my Jewish gaberdine,t 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
 Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, 
 ' Shylock, we would have moneys :' you say so, 
 You, that did void your rheum % upon my beard, 
 And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 
 Over your threshold ; moneys is your suit. 
 What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
 ' Hath a dog money? Is it possible 
 A cur should lend three thousand ducats?' Or 
 Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
 With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
 Say this : 
 
 ' Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last ; 
 You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
 You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies 
 I '11 lend you thus much moneys ?' 
 
 Antofiio. I am as like to call thee so again, 
 To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
 A breed of barren metal of his friend ? 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
 Who § if he break, thou mayst with better face 
 Exact the penalty 
 
 Shylock. Why, look you, how you storm £ 
 
 I would be friends with you, and have your love, 
 Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with. 
 Supply your present wants, and take no doit || 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you HI not hear me. 
 This is kind I offer, 
 
 Bassanio. This were kindness. 
 
 Shylo.ck. This kindness will I show. 
 
 Go with me to a notary ; seal me there 
 Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport, 
 If you repay me not on such a day, 
 In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
 Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
 Be nominated IT for an equal pound 
 Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
 In what part of your body pleaseth me- 
 
 Antonio. Content, i' faith ; I '11 seal to such a bond. 
 And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 
 
 * Spit. T A long coarse frock. % Spittle, saliva. 
 
 § The pronoun is left without a verb, the construction being changed in the 
 latter part of the sentence. 
 
 II A small coin. U Named, stated. 
 
224 NOTES. 
 
 Bassaido. You shall not seal to such a bond for me ; 
 I 'II rather dwell in my necessity. 
 
 A ntonio. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
 Within these two months — that 's a month before 
 This bond expires — I do expect return 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shylock. O father Abram ! what these Christians are, 
 Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect 
 The thoughts of others ! — Pray you, tell me this : 
 If he should break his day, what should I gain 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
 A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
 To buy his favour I extend this friendship : 
 If he will take it, so ; * if not, adieu ; 
 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
 
 Antonio. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
 
 Shylock- Then meet me forthwith at the notary's. 
 Give him direction for this merry bond, 
 And I will go and purse the ducats straight. 
 See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
 Of an unthrifty knave, and presently 
 I will be with you. {.Exit. 
 
 Antonio. Hie thee, gentle Jew. — 
 
 The Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kind. 
 
 Bassanio. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 
 
 A ntonio. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
 My ships come home a month before the day." 
 
 Page 96, line 115. — That Portia of whom we read, etc. This 
 Portia is one of the characters in Shakespeare's Jtilms Ccesar. Her 
 husband was a leader in the conspiracy against the life of Caesar. 
 
 Line 124. — His high birth and noble ancestry was, etc. The sin- 
 gular verb may be justified on the ground that birth and ancestry 
 are substantially one and the same. If the subjects were really dif- 
 ferent {birth and education, for example), the verb should be plural. 
 
 Line 128. — She would wish herself a thousand times more fair, etc. 
 Compare the play (iii. 2. 149): 
 
 "You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand. 
 Such as I am : though for myself alone 
 I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
 To wish myself much better, yet for you 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself, 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich, 
 That only to stand high in your account, 
 I might in virtues, beauties, livings,! friends. 
 Exceed account : but the full sum of me 
 Is sum of nothing ; which, to term in gross, % 
 
 * Be it so. t Property. \ To state in full ; to make the most of it. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 225 
 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd : 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; happier than this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all in that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
 Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now. 
 This house, these servants, and this same myself 
 Are yours, my lord. I give them with this ring." 
 
 Page 98, line 170. — O sweet Portia, here are a few of the iinpleas- 
 antest ivords, etc. This is from the play almost word for word ; and 
 so are the letter of Antonio and the speech of Portia that follows it. 
 Pag'e 99^ line 219. — A relation. The word relative is now gen- 
 erally preferred to relation. Shakespeare uses neither in this sense- 
 Line 232. — In the senate-honse. That is, in the Ducal Palace, 
 which is still one of the most beautiful and imposing buildings in 
 Venice. It was begun in 1301, but suffered seriously from fires in 
 1419, 1479, and 1574, and the present edifice is made up of portions 
 of the original one, with the restorations and additions made in the 
 15th and i6th centuries. 
 
 Page lOOj line 238. — Balthazar. Shakespeare puts the accent 
 on the first syllable whenever he uses the name in verse (it occurs 
 in several plays) ; but it should properly be on the second syllable. 
 Page 101, line 254. — The noble quality of mercy, etc. This is 
 one of the most beautiful passages in the play (iv. i, 182) : 
 
 '''^ Portia. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shylock. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 Portia. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; * 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
 It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 
 'T is mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown. 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway : 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 It is an attribute to God himself ; 
 And earthly power doth then show t likest God's 
 When mercy seasons % justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 
 * That is, the very nature of mercy excludes the idea of compulsion, 
 t Appear. X Tempers. 
 
 15 
 
2 26 NOTES. 
 
 Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
 That, in the course of justice, none of us 
 Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy, 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy." 
 
 Line 276. — A Daniel is come to judgment, etc. Compare the play 
 (iv. I. 223) : 
 
 "A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel ! 
 
 wise young judge, how do I honour thee ! 
 
 O wise and upright judge ! 
 How much more elder * art thou than thy looks !" 
 
 Page 102^ line 295. — Give me your hand, Bassanio, etc. Com- 
 pare the play (iv. i. 265) : 
 
 " Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well! 
 Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
 For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
 Than is her custom : it is still her use 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
 Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
 Commend me to your honourable wife : 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
 Say how I lov'd you, speak me fairt in death ; 
 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
 Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
 And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
 For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
 
 1 '11 pay it instantly with all my heart. " 
 
 Liae 299. — Antortio, I am married to a zuife, etc. This speech is 
 almost exactly in the words of the play ; and the same may be said 
 of the speeches in the next two paragraphs. 
 
 Page 1085 line 339.— Tarry a little, etc. Compare the play (iv. 
 
 I. 305) • 
 
 ^^ Portia. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
 The words expressly are, a pound of flesh. 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 
 * Double comparatives and superlatives were allowable in Shakespeare's time. 
 Compare King Lear, i. 1. 219 : "Most best, most dearest," etc. See also Acts, 
 xxvi. 5. 
 
 t Speak well of me. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 227 
 
 Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate * 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 Gratiano. O upright judge ! — Mark, Jew ! — O learned judge I 
 
 Shy lock. Is that the law ? 
 
 Portia. Thyself shalt see the act ; 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest 
 
 Gratiano. O learned judge !— Mark, Jew ! — a learned judge ! 
 
 Shylock. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice, 
 And let the Christian go. 
 
 Bassanio. Here is the money. 
 
 Portia. Soft! 
 The Jew shall have all justice ; — soft ! no haste : — 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gratiano. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 
 
 Portia. The law hath yet another hold on you. 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 If it be prov'd against an alien. 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 
 He seek the life of any citizen. 
 The party t 'gainst the which he doth contrive J 
 Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ; 
 For it appears, by manifest proceeding. 
 That indirectly, and directly too, 
 Thou hast contrived against the very life 
 Of the defendant, and thou hast incurr'd 
 The danger formerly by me rehears'd. 
 Down therefore, and beg mercy of the duke." 
 
 Pag"© 104, line 362. — Nor do not ait. As already stated (page 
 198, foot-note), Shakespeare used double negatives, but this partic- 
 ular instance is not from the play. It seems to be an unconscious 
 imitation of the old style with which the writer was so familiar. 
 
 Line 367. — Give me my vioney and let me go. It may seem 
 strange that Shylock should ask for his money a second time when 
 Portia has told him (line 360) that he shall not have it. In the play 
 (from which Miss Lamb appears co have inadvertently varied here), 
 Shylock at first says, " I take this offer then ; pay the bond thrice ;" 
 but afterwards, when Portia asks, " Why doth the Jew pause ? take 
 thy forfeiture," he replies, " Give me my principal, and let me go." 
 Bassanio says, " I have it ready for thee ; here it is " ; but Portia 
 interferes again, declaring that the Jew " shall have nothing but the 
 forfeiture." 
 
 * Confiscated, forfeited. t Person. % Plot 
 
2 28 NOTES. 
 
 Page 106, line 415. — Give me yojir gloves, etc. Compare the 
 play (iv. I. 435) : 
 
 '■^Portia. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. — 
 \To Ant0nio\ Give me your gloves,* I '11 wear them for your sake ;— 
 YI'o Bassanio] And, for your love, I '11 take this ring from you. — ■ 
 Do not draw back your hand ; I '11 take no more, 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 
 Bassanio. This ring, good sir, — alas ! it is a trifle ; 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 
 
 Portia. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
 And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
 
 Bassanio. There 's more depends on this than on the value. 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you. 
 And find it out by proclamation ; 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 
 Portia. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers ; 
 You taught me first to beg, and now methinks 
 You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 
 
 Bassafiio. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
 And when she put it on she made me vow 
 That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 
 
 Portia. That 'scuse t serves many men to save their gifts. 
 An if your wife be not a mad woman, 
 And know how well I have deserv'd the ring, 
 She would not hold out enemy forever, 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 
 
 [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Antonio. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring; 
 Let his deservings and my love withal 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandement. J 
 
 Bassanio. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
 Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst. 
 Unto Antonio's house: away ! make haste. — [Exit Gratiano.'''' 
 
 Page 107, line 440. — Among these ladies. As there are but 
 two ladies, between would be the proper preposition. It is a com- 
 mon mistake nowadays to use betweeti in referring to more than 
 two objects or classes of objects instead of among. 
 
 * It will be seen that the tale makes Portia take Bassanio's gloves instead of 
 Antonio's. The stage-directions (" To Antonio" and " To Bassanio'''') are not 
 in the editions of the play published before Miss Lamb wrote, but recent editors 
 are doubtless right in assuming that, as Antonio joins in the entreaty that Portia 
 will accept a token of their gratitude, she takes something from him as well as from 
 Bassanio This, moreover, prepares the way for asking for the ring. Antonio 
 readily gives the gloves, and then Portia turns to Bassanio, saying, " And, for 
 your love, I '11 take this ring {xo\w you '" and the emphasis on you is favored by 
 its metrical position. It must be admitted, however, that Miss Lamb, taking 
 the text as she understands it, explains it very ingeniously. 
 
 t Excuse. X Four syllables. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 229 
 
 Line 451. — That light we see, etc. This speech is in the very 
 words of the play (v. i. 89), where it forms three lines of verse. 
 
 Line 465. — Lady, it is about a paltry gilt ring, etc. In the play it 
 is called a "paltry" ring, not because it was merely "gilt," as it is 
 called here, but because Gratiano thinks it is not worth making 
 such a fuss about. He says : 
 
 " About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me, whose poesy was 
 For all the world like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, ' Love me, and leave me not. ' " 
 
 The poesy or posy (for the two words are the same) was a motto or 
 rhyme inscribed on the inside. Such inscriptions were also some- 
 times put upon knives and other articles used as presents. In 1624 
 a little book was published with the title, Lovers Garland, or Posies 
 for Rings, Handkerchiefs, and Gloves ; afid such pretty tokens that 
 lovers send their loves. The Rev. Giles Moore, in his Journal, 
 1673-4, writes, " I bought for Ann Brett a gold ring, this being the 
 posy : When this you see, reniet?iher me.'''' 
 
 Page 108j line 473. — By this hand, etc. Compare the play (v. 
 I. 161): 
 
 " Gratiano. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
 
 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy. 
 
 No higher* than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ; 
 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 Portia. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
 
 To part so slightly with your wife' s first gift ; 
 
 A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, 
 
 And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
 
 I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands : 
 
 I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it. 
 
 Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief ; 
 
 An 't t were to me, I should be mad at it. 
 Bassanio. [A side] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, 
 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gratiano. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
 
 Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
 
 That took some pains in writing, he begged mine ; 
 
 And neither man nor master would take aught 
 
 But the two rings. 
 Portia. What ring gave you, my lord? 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 
 
 * Taller. t If it. 
 
230 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Bassanio. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. 
 
 Portia. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 
 n^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; 
 
 I '11 die for 't but some woman had the ring. 
 
 Bassanio. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 
 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 
 And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him, 
 And suffer' d him to go displeas'd away, 
 Even he that did uphold the very life 
 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? 
 I was enforc'd to send it after him ; 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
 My honour would not let ingratitude 
 So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 
 For, by these blessed candles of the night, 
 Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Antonio. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 
 Portia. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstanding. 
 ******* 
 
 Bassanio. Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
 I never more will break an oath with thee. 
 
 Antonio. I once did lend my body for his wealth, 
 Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 
 Had quite miscarried ; * I dare be bound again, 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
 Will never more break faith advisedlj'.t 
 
 Portia. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, 
 And bid him keep it better than the other. 
 
 A ntonio. Here, lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring. 
 
 Bassanio. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!" 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Shakespeare's play with this name was performed in London 
 on the 28th of December, 1594, and may have been written several 
 years earlier. It is certainly one of the first plays he wrote. The 
 story was suggested by a Latin comedy, the Meiioechmi of Plautus. 
 
 Pag'e III5 line 19. — He then began his own history^ etc. This 
 is the story as told in the opening scene of the play : 
 
 ^' ./Sgeon. In Syracusa was I born, and wed 
 Unto a woman, happy but for me, 
 
 * Perished. t Intentionally. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 231 
 
 And by me too, had not our hap been bad. 
 
 With her I liv'd in joy ; our wealth increas'd 
 
 By prosperous voyages I often made 
 
 To Epidamnum, till my factor's death 
 
 And the great care of goods at random left 
 
 Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse ; 
 
 From whom my absence was not six months old 
 
 Before herself . . . 
 
 Had made provision for her following me, 
 
 And soon and safe arrived where I was. 
 
 There had she not been long but she became 
 
 A joyful mother of two goodly sons ; 
 
 And, which was strange, the one so like the other 
 
 As could not be distinguish'd but by names. 
 
 That very hour and in the self-same inn 
 
 A meaner woman was delivered 
 
 Of such a burden, male twins, both alike. 
 
 Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, 
 
 I bought and brought up to attend my sons. 
 
 My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, 
 
 Made daily motions for our home return. 
 
 Unwilling I agreed ; alas ! too soon 
 
 We came aboard. 
 
 A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd 
 
 Before the always-wind-obeying deep 
 
 Gave any tragic instance * of our harm : 
 
 But longer did we not retain much hope, 
 
 For what obscured light the heavens did grant 
 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death ; 
 
 Which though myself would gladly have embrac'd, 
 
 Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, 
 
 Weeping before for what she saw must come, 
 
 And piteous plainingsf of the pretty babes, 
 
 That mourn' d for fashion, ignorant what to fear, 
 
 Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me. 
 
 And this it was, for other means was none : 
 
 The sailors sought for safety by our boat. 
 
 And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, X to us. 
 
 My wife, more careful for the latter-born. 
 
 Had fasten' d him unto a small spare mast, 
 
 Such as seafaring men provide for storms ; 
 
 To him one of the other twins was bound. 
 
 Whilst I had been like heedful of the other. 
 
 The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, 
 
 Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 
 
 Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast. 
 
 And floating straight, obedient to the stream. 
 
 Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought 
 
 At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, 
 
 Sign, indication. t Complainings, wailings. 
 
 \ Ripe for sinking, ready to sink. 
 
232 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Dispers'd those vapours that offended us, 
 And, by the benefit of his wished light, 
 The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered 
 Two ships from far making amain * to us, 
 Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this ; 
 But ere they came — O, let me say no more ! 
 Gather the sequel by that t went before. 
 
 Duke. Nay, forward, old man ; do not break off so, 
 For we may pity, though not pardon thee. 
 
 ySgeon. O, had the gods done so, I had not now 
 Worthily term'd them merciless to us ! 
 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, 
 We were encounter' d by a mighty rock, 
 Which being violently borne upon, 
 Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst ; 
 So that, in this unjust divorce J of us, 
 Fortune had left to both of us alike 
 What to delight in, what to sorrow for. 
 Her part, poor soul ! seeming as burdened 
 With lesser weight but not with lesser woe. 
 Was carried with more speed before the wind ; 
 And in our sight they three were taken up 
 By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. 
 At length, another ship had seiz'd on us ; 
 And, knowing whom it was their hap § to save, 
 Gave healthful welcome to tlieir shipwrack'd guests, 
 And would have reft || the fishers of their prey, 
 Had not their bark been very slow of sail ; 
 And therefore homeward did they bend their course. — 
 Thus have you heard me sever' d from my bliss, 
 That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd. 
 To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. 
 
 Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, 
 Do me the favor to dilate 1[ at full 
 What hath befallen of** them and thee till now. 
 
 ^geon. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, 
 ^t eighteen years became inquisitive 
 After his brother, and importun'd ft nie 
 That his attendant — for his case was like. 
 Reft of his brother, but retain 'd his name — 
 Might bear him company in the quest of him ; 
 Whom whilst I labour' d of a love to see, 
 I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. 
 Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece, 
 Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, 
 And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ; 
 Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought 
 Or XX that or any place that harbours men. 
 But here must end the story of my life ; 
 
 * Swiftly. t That which, what- X Separation. § Luck, fortune. 
 
 II Deprived. H Relate. ** Been the fate of. 
 
 tt Accented on the second syllable here. XX Either. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 233 
 
 And happy were I in my timely death, 
 Could all my travels warrant me they live. 
 
 Duke. Hapless ^geon, whom the fates have mark'd 
 To bear the extremity of dire mishap ! 
 Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, 
 Against my crown, my oath, my dignity. 
 Which princes, would they,* may not disannul, t 
 My soul should sue as advocate for thee. 
 But, though thou art adjudged X to the death. 
 And passed sentence may not be recall'd 
 But § to our honour's great disparagement. 
 Yet I will favour thee in what I can. 
 Therefore, merchant, I '11 limit thee this day 
 To seek thy help by beneficial help. 
 Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus ; 
 Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, 
 And live : if no, then thou art doom'd to die. " 
 
 Line 23. — Epidamniiim. Shakespeare's word (see extract in pre- 
 ceding note) is Epidammim ; but the correct form is Epidajntiiis. 
 The name was afterwards changed X.o Dyrrhachimyi (Dir-ra'-kl-um), 
 now Durazzo. The town is on the Adriatic in Albania. 
 
 Page 1125 line 52. — My youngest son. Some grammarians tell 
 us that the superlative is improper when only two objects are con- 
 cerned; but see note on page 57, line 184. Compare lines 58 and 
 59, 82 and %i, etc. Miss Lamb follows Shakespeare, who uses 
 either the comparative or the superlative. Compare " latter-born " 
 on page 231 and "youngest son " on page 232. 
 
 Page 114:j line 131. — Was tvell able to have paid. It would be 
 more in accordance with good usage now to write well able to pay ; 
 but in Shakespeare, as in earlier writers, the construction in the text 
 is commonly found. Compare Hamlet^ v. i. 268: "I hoped thou 
 shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife " (I hoped you would be) ; 
 Much Ado, ii. I. 261 : " She would have made Hercules to have 
 turned spit" (would have made him turn the spit), etc. So Mil- 
 ton, Paradise Lost, i. 40 : " He trusted to have equall'd the Most 
 High," etc. We still retain this idiom in the expression " He onght 
 (that is, was bound) to have done it," etc. 
 
 Page 116j line 169. — I am like a drop of ivater, etc. For the 
 figurative language, see on page 39, line 171. It is taken from the 
 play (i. 2. 37). 
 
 Page 117^ line 176. — Asked him where he had left the money. 
 Compare the play (i. 2. 54) : 
 
 '•'' Antipholus of S. Where have you left the money that I 
 gave you ? 
 
 * If they wished. t Annul. So dissever means the same as sever. 
 
 % Condemned. § Except. 
 
234 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Drovtioof E. O! — sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last 
 To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ? 
 " The saddler had it, sir ; I kept it not. 
 
 Antipholiis of S. \ am not in a sportive humour now ; 
 Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? 
 We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust 
 So great a charge from thine own custody ? 
 
 Droniio of E. 1 pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner. 
 I from my mistress come to you in post ; 
 If I return, I shall be post indeed, 
 For she will score your fault upon my pate. 
 Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, 
 And strike you home without a messenger. 
 
 Antipholus of S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are 
 out of season ; 
 Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. 
 Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee ? 
 
 Dromio of E. To me, sir ? why, you gave no gold to me. 
 
 A ntiphohis of S. Come on, sir knave, have done your 
 foolishness. 
 And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. 
 
 Dromio of E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart 
 Home to your house, the Phoenix,* sir, to dinner ; 
 My mistress and her sister stays for you. 
 
 Antipholiis of S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me 
 In what safe place you have bestow'd my money, 
 Or I shall break that merry sconce f of yours 
 That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd. 
 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me ? 
 
 Dromio of E. \ have some marks of yours upon my pate, 
 Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, 
 But not a thousand marks between you both. 
 If I should pay your worship those again. 
 Perchance you will not bear them patiently. 
 
 Afitipholus of S. Thy mistress' marks? what mistress, 
 slave, hast thou ? 
 
 Drojnio of E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the 
 Phoenix; 
 She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, 
 And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. 
 
 A ntiphohis of S. What, wilt thou flout % me thus unto my 
 face. 
 Being forbid ? There, take you that, sir knave. 
 
 Dromio of E. What mean you, sir? for God's sake, hold 
 your hands ! 
 Nay, an you will not, sir, I '11 take my heels. \_Exit.''^ 
 
 When Dromio returns to his mistress, the following dialogue 
 takes place (ii. i. 44) : 
 
 ^^ Adriana. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? 
 
 Dromio of E. Nay, he 's at two hands with me, and that 
 my two ears can witness. 
 
 * Private houses, like inns, sometimes had names. t Head. % Mock. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS, 
 
 Adriana. Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou 
 his mind ? 
 
 DroTnio of E. Aj', ay, he told his mind upon mine ear. 
 Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. 
 
 Luciatia. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel 
 his meaning ? 
 
 Dromio of E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well 
 feel his blows ; and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce 
 understand them. 
 
 A driana. But say, I prithee, is he coming home ? 
 ******* 
 
 Dromio of E. When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, 
 He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold : 
 ' 'T is dinner-time,' quoth I ; ' My gold !' quoth he : 
 ' Your meat doth burn,' quoth I ; ' My gold !' quoth he : 
 
 * Will you come home ?' quoth I ; ' My gold !' quoth he, 
 ' Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain ?' 
 
 ' The pig,' quoth I, ' is burn'd ;' ' My gold !' quoth he : 
 
 * My mistress, sir,' quoth I ; ' Hang up thy mistress ! 
 I know not thy mistress ; out on thy mistress !' 
 
 Luciana. Quoth who? 
 
 Dromio of E. Quoth my master : 
 ' I know,' quoth he, ' no house, no wife, no mistress.' 
 So that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
 I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders ; 
 For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 
 
 Adriana. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. 
 
 Dromio of E. Go back again, and be new beaten home ? 
 For God's sake, send some other messenger." 
 
 Page 118^ line 223. — How comes it now, my husband, etc. 
 pare the play (ii. 2. 121) : 
 
 *^ Adriana. How comes it now, my husband, O, how 
 comes it 
 That thou art thus estranged from thyself? 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 A ntipholus of S. Plead you to me, fair dame ? I know 
 you not. 
 In Ephesus I am but two hours old. 
 As strange unto your town as to your talk ; 
 Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd, 
 Want wit in all one word to understand. 
 Luciana. Fie, brother ! how the world is chang'd with 
 you ! 
 When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 
 She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. 
 A ntipholus of S. By Dromio ? 
 Dromio of S. By me? 
 
 A driana. By thee ; and this thou didst return from 
 him, — 
 That he did buffet thee, and in his blov/s 
 Denied my house for his, me for his wife. 
 
 235 
 
 Com- 
 
236 NOTES. 
 
 Antipholus of S. Did you converse; sir, with this gentle- 
 woman ? 
 What is the course and drift of your compact?* 
 
 Dromio of S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time. 
 
 Antipholus o/S. Villain,thouliest ; for even her very words 
 Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. 
 
 Dromio of S. \ never spake with her in all my life. 
 
 A ntipholus of S. How can she thus then call us by our 
 names, 
 Unless it be by inspiration ? 
 
 What, was I married to her in my dream ? 
 Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this? 
 What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ? 
 Until I know this sure uncertainty, 
 I '11 entertain the offer'd fallacy. 
 Luciana. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner." 
 
 Page 119j line 261. — He was met by a goldsmith^ etc. Com- 
 pare the play (iii. 2. 170): 
 
 " Enter Angelo with the chain. 
 
 Angelo. Master Antipholus, — 
 
 Antipholus of S. Ay, that 's my name. 
 
 A ng-elo. I know it well, sir. Lo, here is the chain. 
 I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine ; t 
 The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long. 
 
 Antipholus of S. What is your will that I shall do with 
 this? 
 
 A ngelo. What please yourself, sir ; I have made it for 
 you. 
 
 Afitiphobis of S. Made it for me, sir ! I bespoke t it not. 
 
 Angelo. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. 
 Go home with it and please your wife withal ; § 
 And soon at supper-time I '11 visit you, 
 And then receive my money for the chain. 
 
 Antipholus of S. 1 pray you, sir, receive the money now, 
 For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more. 
 
 A ngelo. You are a merry man, sir ; fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Antipholus of S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell; 
 But this I think, there 's no man is so vain 
 That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain. 
 I see a man here needs not live by shifts, 
 When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. 
 I '11 to the mart and there for Dromio stay ; 
 If any ship put out, then straight away. " 
 
 * Conspiracy ; accented on the second syllable. 
 
 t That is, Porcupine ; the only name for the animal in Shakespeare. Com- 
 pare Hamlet., i. 5. 20: "Like quills upon the fretful porpentine" (changed in 
 most modern editions to " porcupine "). Here it is the name of a house, like 
 Phce7iix in the passage quoted in note on page 117, line 176. 
 
 X Ordered. - § With it. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS, 
 
 237 
 
 Page I2I5 line 307. — Who was still in amaze, etc. Compare 
 what he says in the play (iv. 3. i) : 
 
 " There 's not a man I meet but doth salute me 
 As if I were their well-acquainted friend \ 
 And every one doth call me by my name. 
 Some tender money to me, some invite me ; 
 Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ; 
 Some offer me commodities to buy. 
 Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop 
 And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, 
 And therewithal took measure of my bod}'. 
 Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, 
 And Lapland * sorcerers inhabit here. " 
 
 Line 326. — This fellow Dro77iio is cejiai/ily dish-acted. This is 
 from the same scene of the play : 
 
 " The fellow is distract, t and so am I ; 
 And here we wander in illusions. 
 Some blessed power deliver us from hence !" 
 
 Page 123j line 371. — She began to think he was certainly out of 
 his senses, etc. In the play (iv. 3. 82) she says : 
 
 " Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad, 
 Else would he never so demean % himself. 
 A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, 
 And for the same he promis'd me a chain ; 
 Both one and other he denies me now. 
 The reason that I gather he is mad. 
 Besides this present instance of his rage, 
 Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner 
 Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. 
 Belike § his wife, acquainted with his fits, 
 On purpose shut the doors against his way. 
 My way is now to hie home to his house, 
 ■ And tell his wife that, being lunatic, 
 He rush'd into my house and took perforce || 
 My ring away. This course I fittest choose, 
 For forty ducats is too much to lose- " 
 
 Page 124:j line 421. — Atid now came out the lady abbess, etc. 
 Compare the play (v. i. 38): 
 
 ^^ Abbess. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither? 
 
 Adria-na. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. 
 Let us come in, that we may bind him fast 
 And bear him home for his recovery. 
 
 * Lapland, a region little known in Shakespeare's day, was supposed to abound 
 in sorcerers and witches. Milton refers to " Lapland witches " in Paradise Lost, 
 ii. 665. 
 
 t A contraction oi distracted. % Behave. § Very likely. || By force. 
 
238 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 A ngelo. I knew he was not in his perfect wits. 
 
 Abbess. How long hath this possession held the man? 
 
 Adriana. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, 
 And much different from the man he was ; 
 But till this afternoon his passion 
 Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. 
 
 Abbess. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea? 
 Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye 
 Stray'd * his aifection in unlawful love, 
 A sin prevailing mucli in youthful men 
 Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing ? 
 Which of these sorrows is he subject to? 
 
 A driana. To none of these, except it be the last ; 
 Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. 
 
 Abbess. You should for that have reprehended him. 
 
 Adriana. Why, so I did. 
 
 Abbess- Ay, but not rough enough. - 
 
 Adriana. As roughly as my modesty would let me. 
 
 A bbess. Haply, in private. 
 
 A driana. And in assemblies too. 
 
 Abbess. Ay, but not enough. 
 
 A driana. It was the copy t of our conference : 
 In bed he slept not for my urging it ; 
 At board he fed not for my urging it ; 
 Alone, it was the subject of my theme ; 
 In company I often glanced % it ; 
 Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. 
 
 Abbess. And thereof came it that the man was mad. 
 The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
 Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
 It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing. 
 And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
 Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings: 
 Unquiet meals make ill digestions ; 
 Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 
 And what 's a fever but a fit of madness? 
 Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls : 
 Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue 
 But moody and dull melancholy, 
 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, 
 And at her heels a huge infectious troop 
 Of pale distemperatures § and foes to life? 
 In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest 
 To be disturb' d, would mad or man or beast. 
 The consequence is then thy jealous fits 
 Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits. 
 
 Luciana. She never reprehended him but mildly, 
 When he demean'd || himself rough, rude, and wildly. — 
 Why bear you these rebukes and answer not ? 
 
 * Caused to stray, led astray. t Subject, theme. X Hinted. 
 
 § Disorders, diseases. y Behaved. 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 239 
 
 Adriana. She did betray me to my own reproof. — 
 Good people, enter and lay hold on him. 
 
 Abbess. No, not a creature enters in my house. 
 
 Adriana. Then let your servants bring my husband forth. 
 
 Abbess. Neither; he took this place for sanctuary,* 
 And it shall privilege him from your hands 
 Till I have brought him to his wits again, 
 Or lose my labour in assaying t it. 
 
 A driana. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, 
 Diet his sickness, for it is my office. 
 And will have no attorney but myself; 
 And therefore let me have him home with me. 
 
 Abbess. Be patient; for I will not let him stir 
 Till I have us'd the approved means I have, 
 With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, 
 To make of him a formal $ man again." 
 
 Pag'e 127^ line 501. — .^geon, seeing his son., etc. See the play 
 (v. I. 282) : 
 
 "•^ .^geon. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word. 
 Haply I see a friend will save my life 
 And pay the sum that may deliver me. 
 
 Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. 
 
 j^geon- Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus? 
 And is not that your bondman, Dromio? 
 
 Dromio of E. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, 
 But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords ; 
 Now am I Dromio and his man unbound. 
 
 jEgeo7i. I am sure you both of you remember me. 
 
 Dromio of E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you; 
 For lately we were bound, as you are now. 
 
 ^geon. Why look you strange on me ? you know me well. 
 
 Antipholus of E. 1 never saw you in my life till now. 
 
 jEgeon. O, grief hath chang'd me since you saw me last, 
 And careful hours with time's deformed § hand 
 Have written strange defeatures || in my face 1 
 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ? 
 
 Antipholus of E. Neither. 
 
 yEgeon. Dromio, nor thou ? 
 
 Dromio of E. No, trust me, sir, nor I. 
 
 .^geon. I am sure thou dost. 
 
 Dromio of E. Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not ; and what- 
 soever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. 
 
 ALgeon. Not know my voice ! O time's extremity, 
 Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue 
 In seven short years, that here my only son 
 Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares? 
 
 * That is, a place of refuge in which a criminal was safe from arrest. Certain 
 churches, convents, and similar buildings were thus privileged in former times- 
 To take sanctuary was the usual expression for taking refuge in them. 
 
 t Attempting. % Sane. § Deforming, U Disfigurement. 
 
240 NOTES. 
 
 Though now this grained * head of mine be hid 
 In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow 
 And all the conduits t of my blood froze up. 
 Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
 My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, 
 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear. 
 All these old witnesses — I cannot err — 
 Tell me thou art my son Antipholus. 
 
 A ntiphohis of E. I never saw my father in my Hfe. 
 
 yEgeon. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, 
 Thou know'st we parted ; but perhaps, my son, 
 Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. 
 
 A ntiphohis of E. The duke and all that know me in the 
 city 
 Can witness with me that it is not so ; 
 I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. 
 
 Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years 
 Have I been patron to Antipholus, 
 During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa. 
 I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. 
 
 Re-enter Abbess, with Antipholus of Svracusk afid Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Abbess. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. 
 
 [A II gather to see them. 
 
 A driana. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. 
 
 Duke. One of these men is Genius J to the other; 
 And so of these. Which is the natural man, 
 And which the spirit? who deciphers them? 
 
 Dromio of S. I, sir, am Dromio ; command him away. 
 
 Dromio of E. I, sir, am Dromio ; pray, let me stay. 
 
 Antipholus of S. .^geon art thou not? or else his ghost? 
 
 Dromio of S. O, my old master ! who hath bound him 
 here? 
 
 Abbess. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds 
 And gain a husband by his liberty. — 
 Speak, old .(Egeon, if thou be'st the man 
 That hadst a wife once call'd iEmilia 
 That bore thee at a burden two fair sons, — 
 O, if thou be'st the same iEgeon, speak, 
 And speak unto the same .Emilia ! 
 
 ^geo7t. If I dream not, thou art ^Emilia ; 
 If thou art she, tell me where is that son 
 That floated with thee on the fatal raft ? 
 
 Abbess. By men of Epidamnum he and I 
 And the twin Dromio all were taken up ; 
 But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth 
 By force took Dromio and my son from them, 
 And me they left with those of Epidamnum. 
 What then became of them I cannot tell ; 
 I to § this fortune that you see me in. 
 
 * Furrowed, like the grain of wood. t Pipes, arteries and veins. 
 
 X An attendant spirit. § That is, catne to 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right : 
 These two Antipholuses, these two so like, 
 And these two Dromios, one in semblance,* — 
 Besides her urging of her wrack at sea, — 
 These are the parents to these children, t 
 Which accidentally are met together. — 
 Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first ? 
 
 Antiphohes of S. No, sir, not I ; I came from Syracuse. 
 
 Duke. Stay, stand apart ; I know not which is which. 
 
 Antipholus of E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious 
 lord, — 
 
 Dromio of E. And I with him. 
 
 A ntipkolus of E. Brought to this town by that most famous 
 warrior, 
 Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
 
 Adriaiia. Which of you two did dine with me to-day? 
 
 Antipholus of S. I, gentle mistress. 
 
 Adriana. And are not you my husband? 
 
 A7itiphohis of E. No ; I say nay to that. 
 
 Antipholus of S. And so do I ; yet did she call me so; 
 And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here. 
 Did call me brother. — [To Luciatia] What I told you then, 
 I hope I shall have leisure to make good. 
 If this be not a dream I see and hear. 
 
 A ngelo. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. 
 
 A ntipholus of S. 1 think it be, sir ; I deny it not. 
 
 A ntipholus of E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. 
 
 A ngelo. I think I did, sir ; I deny it not. 
 
 Adriana. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, 
 By Dromio ; but I think he brought it not. 
 
 Dromio of E. No, none by me. 
 
 Antiphohis of S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you, 
 And Dromio my man did bring them me. 
 I see we still did meet each other's man, 
 And I was ta'en for him and he for me, 
 And thereupon these errors all arose. 
 
 Afitipholus of E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. 
 
 Duke. It shall not need ; thy father hath his life." 
 
 241 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 Shakespeare's comedy of Twelfth Night was acted in London 
 on the 2d of February, 1602, when it was probably a new play. 
 The best critics believe that it was written in 1601. 
 
 The leading incidents of the story appear to have been taken from 
 The Historic of Apolonius and Silla, by Barnaby Riche (or Rich), a 
 
 . * Pronounced as a trisyllable (sem-ble-ance). t Also a trisyllable (chil-der-en) 
 16 
 
242 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 contemporary of Shakespeare. He was probably indebted to a 
 novel by Bandello (see page 197), or to one of several Italian plays 
 of somewhat similar plot. 
 
 Page I3O5 line I. — Viola. As an English name it would be 
 pronounced with the z as in violet, but the Italian pronunciation 
 (with i as in machine) is generally adopted on the stage. 
 
 Line 2. — Messaline. The place is unknown in geography. 
 
 Page I3I5 line 25. — Ay, very well, madam, etc. Compare the 
 play (i. 2. 21) : 
 
 " Viola. Know' St thou this country? 
 
 Captain. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born 
 Not three hours' travel from this very place. 
 
 Viola. Who governs here ? 
 
 Captai7t- A noble duke, in nature as in name. 
 
 Viola. What is his name ? 
 
 Captain. Orsino. 
 
 Viola. Orsino! I have heard my father name him ; 
 He was a bachelor then. 
 
 Captain. And so is now, or was so very late ; 
 For but a month ago I went from hence, 
 And then 't was fresh in murmur — as, you know, 
 What great ones do the less will prattle of — 
 That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. 
 
 Viola. What 's* she? 
 
 Captain. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 
 That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her 
 In the protection of his son, her brother. 
 Who shortly also died ; for whose dear love, 
 They say, she hath abjur'd the company 
 And sight of men. 
 
 Viola. O that I serv'd that lady, 
 
 And might not be deliver'd t to the world, 
 Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, t 
 What my estate is ! 
 
 Captain. That were hard to compass ; § 
 
 Because she will admit no kind of suit, 
 No, not the duke's. 
 
 Viola. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ; 
 And though that || nature with a beauteous wall 
 Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
 I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 
 With this thy fair and outward character. 
 I prithee, — and I '11 pay thee bounteously, — 
 Conceal me what I am, and be my aid 
 For such disguise as haply shall become 
 The form of my intent. I '11 serve this duke." 
 
 * Who is ; a common use of what in Shakespeare. t Made known. 
 
 X Ripe, favorable. § Bring about. || That would now be superfluous. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 243 
 
 Page ISSj line \o^.—But Orsino would not admit of this reason- 
 ing. Compare the play (ii. 4. 90) : 
 
 " Viola. But if she cannot love you, sir ? 
 
 Dtike. I cannot be so answer'd. 
 
 Viola. Sooth,* but you must 
 
 Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, 
 Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
 As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ; 
 You tell her so ; must she not then be answer'd ? 
 
 Duke. There is no woman's sides 
 Can bide t the beating of so strong a passion 
 As love doth give my heart ; no woman's heart 
 So big to hold so much. . . . Make no compare 
 Between that love a woman can bear me 
 And that I owe Olivia. 
 
 Viola. Ay, but I know — 
 
 Duke. What dost thou know ? 
 
 Viola. Too well what love women to men may owe ; 
 In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
 My father had a daughter lov'd a man, 
 As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
 I should your lordship. 
 
 Duke. And what's her history ? 
 
 Viola. A blank, my lord. 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. Was not this love indeed ? 
 We men may say more, swear more, but indeed 
 Our shows are more than will : for still we prove 
 Much in our vows, but little in our love. 
 
 Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? 
 
 Viola. I am all the daughters of my father's house, 
 And all the brothers too ; — and yet I know not." 
 
 Page 134, line 123. — She pined in thought. That is, with anx- 
 iety. Thought wstd to mean "anxiety, melancholy;" and to think, 
 or take thought, " to be anxious, despondent." Compare Shake- 
 speare's Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 13. I : 
 
 " Cleopatra. What shall we do, Enobarbus ? 
 Enobarbus. Thmk, and die ;" 
 
 that is, give way to despair, and die. See also i Samtiel, ix. 5, and 
 Matthew, vi. 25. 
 
 Line 131. — So please you, my lord, etc. This is taken from the 
 play with very little change; and so is all the dialogue that follows 
 (lines 138-237). 
 
 * Truly, in truth- See note on page 25, line 240. t Bear, endure. 
 
244 NOTES. 
 
 Line 134. — The elemetit. For this use of element (copied from 
 the play), compare 2 Henry IV. iv. 3. 58 : " o'ershine you as much 
 as the full moon doth the cinders of the element ;" that is, the stars 
 in the sky. See also Milton, Cofnus, 298: "gay creatures of the 
 element " (spirits of the air). 
 
 Pag"© 138 J line 261. — /// success. The word success originally 
 meant "that which succeeds, follows, or results," whether good or 
 bad, and so we often find it qualified by good^ ill, etc. Compare 
 Richard III. iv. 4. 236 : " dangerous success ;" Othello, iii. 3. 222 : 
 " vile success," etc. See also Joshtia, i. 8. 
 
 Pag"© 139^ line 271. — Spinsters. The word is here used in its 
 original sense. The suffix -ster was originally feminine. Thus 
 songster used to mean a female singer, but now it is regarded as 
 masculine, and a new feminine ending is added in songstress. So 
 Webster (now used only as a proper name) meant a female weaver, 
 Baxter (formerly bakester) a female baker, brewster a female brewer, 
 etc. Spinster is the only one of these old feminines that retains its 
 proper gender. 
 
 Page 140, line 277. — Cypress. It is doubtful whether this means 
 a coffin of cypress wood, or a shroud of cypress, or cyprns (the mod- 
 ern crape*), which was sometimes white, as line 280 makes it if the 
 word has this sense hei'e. Cypress occurs again in the play, in iii. 
 I. 132, where Olivia says to Sebastian : 
 
 "To one of your receiving f 
 Enough is shown ; a cypress, not a bosom, 
 Hideth my heart;" 
 
 that is, you can see what is in my heart as if it were covered only 
 with thin crape. There is no doubt as to the meaning in this pas- 
 sage. 
 
 Page 14:lj line 317. — Mnsic from the spheres. According to the 
 Ptolemaic system of astronomy the heavenly bodies were fixed in 
 hollow spheres of crystal which revolved, carrying these bodies 
 round with them, and making musical sounds as they moved. There 
 are many allusions in the poets to this " music of the spheres." 
 
 Line 321. — O, what a deal of scorn, etc. Compare the play (iii, 
 I. 157): 
 
 " Olivia. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
 In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
 A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon 
 Than love that would seem hid ; love's night is noon. — 
 
 * It is not probable, however, that crape is derived from cypress. 
 t Understanding. 
 
I 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 245 
 
 Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
 By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, 
 I love thee so, that, maugre * all thy pride, 
 Nort wit nor reason can my passion hide. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Viola By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 
 I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, 
 And that no woman has ; nor never none 
 Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
 And so adieu, good madam ; never more 
 Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 
 
 Olivia. Yet come again ; for thou perhaps mayst move 
 That heart, which now abhors, to like his love." 
 
 Page 142^ line 345. — If this young gentleman, etc. Here, and 
 in the remainder of the paragraph, the dialogue follows the play 
 quite closely. 
 
 Page 14:4^ line 428, — Yet he wondered how it had cojne to pass^ 
 etc. See the play (iv. 3. i): 
 
 ^^ Enter Sebastian. 
 
 Sebastian- This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; 
 This pearl she gave me, I do feel 't and see 't ; 
 And though 't is wonder that enwraps me thus, 
 Yet 't is not madness. 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. 
 His counsel now might do me golden service ; 
 For though my soul disputes well with my sense, 
 That this may be some error, but no madness, 
 Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune 
 So far exceed all instance, § all discourse, i| 
 That I am ready to distrust mine eyes 
 And wrangle IF with my reason that persuades me 
 To any other trust but that I am mad 
 Or else the lady 's mad ; yet, if 't were so. 
 She could not sway her house, command her followers, 
 Take and give back affairs ** and their dispatch 
 With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing 
 As I perceive she does. There 's something in 't 
 That is deceivable.tt — But here the lady comes. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Priest. 
 
 Olivia. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean welU 
 Now go with me and with this holy man 
 Into the chantry tX by ; there, before him, 
 And underneath that consecrated roof, 
 
 * In spite of. t Neither. X The inn mentioned in line 397. 
 
 § Example, precedent. || Reasoning. If Quarrel. 
 ** Conduct business. tt Deceptive. XX Chapel. 
 
246 NOTES. 
 
 Plight me the full assurance of your faith, 
 That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
 May live at peace. He shall conceal it 
 Whiles* you are filling it shall come to note,t 
 What time % we will our celebration keep 
 According to my birth. — What do you say? 
 
 Sebastian. I '11 follow this good man and go with you, 
 And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 
 
 Olivia. Then lead the way, good father ; and heavens so 
 shine 
 That they may fairly note this act of mine !" 
 
 The ceremony here is not marriage, but the formal betrothal which 
 was common in the time of Shakespeare. Olivia wishes it to be 
 kept secret until the celebration, or wedding. In the tale the latter 
 is substituted for the former. 
 
 Page 145^ line 454. — Here comes the countess^ etc. Compare 
 the play (v. i. 100) : 
 
 " Duke. Here comes the countess ; now heaven walks on 
 earth. — 
 But for thee, fellow, — fellow, thy words are madness : 
 Three months this youth hath tended upon me ; 
 But more of that anon. — Take him aside. 
 
 Olivia. What would my lord, but that he may not have, 
 Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ? — 
 Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 
 
 Viola. Madam ! 
 
 Duke. Gracious Olivia, — 
 
 Olivia. What do you say, Cesario ? — Good my lord,— 
 
 Viola. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me. 
 
 Olivia. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
 It is as fat and fulsome § to mine ear 
 As howling after music. 
 
 Duke. Still so cruel ? 
 
 Olivia. Still so constant, lord. 
 
 Duke. What, to perverseness ? you uacivil lady, 
 To whose ingrate || and unauspicious altars 
 My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out 
 That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall I do? 
 
 Olivia. Even what it please my lord, that shall become 
 him. 
 
 Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, 
 Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, 
 Kill what I love ? 
 
 ******* 
 Come, boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mischief; 
 I '11 sacrifice the lamb that I do love, 
 To spite a raven's heart within a dove. 
 
 * Until. t Become known . % At which time. 
 
 § Dull and distasteful, • U Ungrateful. 
 
'TWELFTH NIGHT. 247 
 
 Viola. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, 
 To do* you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
 
 Olivia. Where goes Cesario? 
 
 Viola. After him I love 
 
 More than I love these eyes, more than my life, 
 More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. — 
 If I do feign, you witnesses above 
 Punish my life for tainting of my love ! 
 
 Olivia. Ay me, detested ! how am I beguil'd ! 
 
 Viola. Who does beguile you ? who does do you wrong. 
 
 Olivia. Hast thou forgot thyself ? is it so long? 
 Call forth the holy father. 
 
 Duke. Come, away ! 
 
 Olivia. Whither, my lord? — Cesario, husband,t stay. 
 
 Duke. Husband ! 
 
 Olivia. Ay, husband ; can he that deny ? 
 
 Duke. Her husband, sirrah ! 
 
 Viola. No, my lord, not I. 
 
 Olivia. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear 
 That makes thee strangle thy propriety ! % 
 Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up : 
 Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art 
 As great as that thou fear'st. — 
 
 Enter Priest. 
 
 O, welcome, father 1 
 Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, 
 Here to unfold, though lately we intended 
 To keep in darkness what occasion now 
 Reveals before 't is ripe, what thou dost know 
 Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me. 
 
 Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love. 
 Confirm' d by mutual joinder of your hands. 
 Attested by the holy close of lips, 
 Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings, 
 And all the ceremony of this compact 
 Seal'd in my function, § by my testimony ; 
 Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave 
 I have travell'd but two hours. 
 
 Duke. O thou dissembling cub ; what wilt thou be 
 When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case ? || 
 Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow 
 That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ? 
 Farewell, and take her ; but direct thy feet 
 Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. 
 ****** 
 
 * Bring, give. For the adverbs in preceding line, see on p. 93, line 6. 
 
 t She calls him husband, because the ceremony of betrothal was regarded as 
 equivalent to marriage, being binding upon both parties unless dissolved by 
 mutual consent. 
 
 X Disown what thou really art § Office. Gray hairs on thy skin. 
 
248 NOTES, 
 
 Enter Sebastian. 
 
 Sebastian. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman ; 
 But, had it been the brother of my blood, 
 I must have done no less with wit * and safety. 
 You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that 
 I do perceive it hath offended you ; 
 Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
 We made each other but so late ago. 
 
 Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, 
 A natural perspective,! that is and is not ! 
 
 Sebastian. Antonio, O my dear Antonio ! 
 How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me 
 Since I have lost thee ! 
 
 Antonio. Sebastian are you? 
 
 Sebg,stian. Fear'st thou that, Antonio ? 
 
 A ntonio. How have you made division of yourself?— 
 An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin 
 Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian ? 
 
 Olivia. Most wonderful I 
 
 Sebastian. Do I stand there? I never had a brother; 
 Nor can there be that deity in my nature, 
 Of here and everywhere.} I had a sister. 
 Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd. 
 Of charity, § what kin are you to me ? 
 What countryman? what name? what parentage? 
 
 Viola. Of Messaline : Sebastian was my father ; 
 Such a Sebastian was my brother too, 
 So went he suited to his watery tomb. 
 If spirits can assume both form and suit, 
 You come to fright us. 
 
 Viola. If nothing lets |I to make us happy both 
 But this my masculine usurp' d attire, 
 Do not embrace me till each circumstance 
 Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump IT 
 That I am Viola : which to confirm, 
 I '11 bring you to a captain in this town, 
 Where lie my maiden weeds ; ** by whose gentle help 
 I was preserv'd to serve this noble count. 
 All the occurrence of my fortune since 
 Hath been between this lady and this lord. 
 
 Duke. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 
 I shall have share in this most happy wrack. — 
 \To Violal Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times 
 Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. 
 
 * Wisdom. 
 
 t A device for deceiving the sight. The word is here accented on the first 
 syllable. 
 % That is, I have not the divine power of being in many places at once. 
 § In the name of charity. || Hinders. IF Agree. ** Garments. 
 
7'HE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 249 
 
 Viola. And all those sayings will I over-swear, 
 And all those swearings keep as true in soul 
 As doth that orbed continent* the fire 
 That severs day from night. 
 
 Duke. Give me thy hand ; 
 
 And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 
 
 ******* 
 Cesario, come ; 
 For so you shall be, while you are a man ; 
 But when in other habits you are seen, 
 Orsino's mistress and his fancy'sf queen." 
 
 \ 
 
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 The comedy of The Taming of the Shretv is not wholly Shake- 
 speare's, being an adaptation of an earlier play, The Taming of a 
 Shrew, published anonymously in 1594. Shakespeare's work upon 
 it was probably done about the year 1598. The story was partly 
 taken from the Italian of Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533). 
 
 Page 150, line 14. — Petriichio. For the pronunciation of the 
 name, see on page 42, line 246. 
 
 Line 18. — Termagant. This was orginally the name of an imag- 
 inary god of the Saracens, often introduced into the old " mysteries," 
 or religious plays, which were popular in England in the time of 
 Shakespeare, as they had been for several centuries before. Terma- 
 gant was represented as a most violent character, and so the name 
 got to be applied figuratively to a turbulent brawling person, male 
 or female, until finally it became limited to the latter sex. 
 
 Line 20. — Herculean labor. According to the old Greek myth or 
 legend, the mighty hero Hercules became subject to Eurystheus 
 (Eu-rys'-theus), a king who compelled him to undertake twelve great 
 " labors," of enormous difficulty and danger. Hence the expression 
 " herculean labor " came to be used for any very arduous or perilous 
 exploit. In the present passage it is a playful exaggeration of the 
 task which Petruchio attempts. 
 
 Line 33. — A-coiirting. That is, to courting. The a- is not the 
 definite article, but an old English prefix used in a manner which 
 is now obsolete, at least in dignified discourse. We still, however, 
 talk of " going a-fishing," etc. In such cases, courting, fishing, etc., 
 are verbal nouns, not participles. Compare Ltike, viii. 42, John, 
 xxi. 3, etc. 
 
 * The sun. t Love's. 
 
250 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Page 151, line 45. — // is a brave wench. She is a fine girl, or 
 young woman. The neuter pronoun is from Shakespeare, who uses 
 it either to indicate affectionate familiarity, as here, or to express 
 dislike or contempt. For an example of the latter use, see Tempest^ 
 i. 2. 39, where Miranda says of Caliban : 
 
 " 'T IS a villain, sir, 
 I do not love to look on." 
 
 For brave, see on page 5, line 128. Wench originally had no bad 
 sense, though in Shakespeare's time it was beginning to be used 
 contemptuously. 
 
 Line 48. — My business is in haste, etc. Compare the play (ii. i. 
 
 113) •• 
 
 " Peirnchio. Signlor Baptista, my business asketh* haste, 
 And every day I cannot come to woo. 
 You knew my father well, and in him me, 
 Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, 
 Which I have better 'd rather than decreased. 
 Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, 
 What dowry shall I have with her to wife ? 
 
 Baptista. After my death the one half of my lands, 
 And in possession twenty thousand crowns." 
 
 Line 63. — / will woo her with some spirit, etc. See the play (ii. 
 I. 177) : 
 
 " I will attend her here, 
 And woo her with some spirit when she comes. 
 Say that she rail ; why then I '11 tell her plain 
 She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. 
 Say that she frown ; I '11 say she looks as clear 
 As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. 
 Say she be mute and will not speak a word ; 
 Then I '11 commend her volubility. 
 And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. 
 If she do bid me pack, I '11 give her thanks, 
 As though she bid me stay by her a week. 
 If she deny to wed, I '11 crave the day 
 When I shall ask the banns and when be married. 
 But here she comes ; and now, Petruchio, speak. — 
 
 Enter Katherina. 
 
 Good morrow, Kate ; for that 's your name, I hear. 
 
 Katherina. Well have you heard, but something hard of 
 hearing ; 
 They call me Katheri'ne that do talk of me. 
 
 Petruchio. You lie, in faith ; for you are call'd plain Kate, 
 And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst ; t 
 
 * Requires. 
 
 t Originally the same word as cursed, but familiarly used in the sense of shrew- 
 ish, waspish, snarling, etc. It was sometimes applied to men ; as in Beaumont and 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 251 
 
 But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
 Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,* 
 For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, 
 Take this of me, Kate of my consolation : 
 Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, 
 Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, 
 Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, 
 Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife." 
 
 Later in the scene Petruchio says : 
 
 " And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
 Thus in plain terms : your father hath consented 
 That you shall be my wife ; your dowry greed t on ; 
 And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
 Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn ; 
 For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, 
 Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, 
 Thou must be married to no man but me ; 
 For I am he am born to tame you, Kate, 
 And bring you from a wild Kate t to a Kate 
 Conformable as other household Kates. 
 Here comes your father : never make denial ; 
 I must and will have Katherine to my wife." 
 
 Page 152j line 99. — Give me your hand, Kate, etc. This is 
 almost word for word from the play. 
 
 Page 155, line 152. — The poor jaded beast, zuho, etc. Modern 
 British writers not unfrequently use 7iiho with reference to the lower 
 animals, but in this country the rule laid down in the grammars is 
 almost invariably followed. Richard Grant White, however, has 
 " a dog who " in one of his articles in the Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Line 160. — The tables were spread, etc. Compare the play (iv. 
 I. 161): 
 
 ^^ Petriichio. Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a 
 stomach. 
 Will you give thanks, sweet Kate ; or else shall I ? — . 
 What 's this? mutton ? 
 
 First Servant. Ay. 
 
 Petruchio. Who brought it ? 
 
 Peter. I. 
 
 Petruchio. 'T is burnt ; and so is all the meat. 
 What dogs are these ! — Wljere is the rascal cook ? 
 How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, 
 
 Fletcher's play of Philaster, ii. 3 : " Hadst thou a curst master when thou went'st 
 to school ?" Also to animals ; as to bears in The Winter's Tale, iii. 3. 134 : 
 " they are never curst but when they are hungry ;" that is, never fierce. 
 
 * Punning upon the noun cate, a dainty. 
 
 t Agreed. % Perhaps punning upon cat. 
 
252 NOTES. 
 
 And serve it thus to me that love it not? 
 There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all \ 
 
 \ Throws the meat, etc , about tJte stagC' 
 You heedless joltheads* and unmanner'd slaves ! 
 What, do you grumble? I '11 be with you straight, 
 
 Katherina. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet ; 
 The meat was well, if you were so contented. 
 
 Petruchio. I tell thee, Kate, 't was burnt and dried away; 
 And I expressly am forbid to touch it, 
 For it engenders choler, planteth anger ; 
 And better 't were that both of us did fast, 
 Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, 
 Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. 
 Be patient ; to-morrow 't shall be mended. 
 And for this night we '11 fast for company." 
 
 Line 178. — Kathej'ine was fain to beg the servants, etc. This refers 
 to an amusing part of the play (iv. 3. i) where Katherine and the 
 servant Grumio enter talking : 
 
 " Grumio. No, no, forsooth ; I dare not for my life. 
 
 Katkerma. The more my wrong, the more his spite ap- 
 pears. 
 What, did he marry me to famish me ? 
 Beggars, that come unto my father's door, 
 Upon entreaty have a present alms ; 
 If not, elsewhere they meet with charity : 
 . But I, who never knew how to entreat, 
 Nor never needed that I should entreat, 
 Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, 
 With oaths kept waking and with brawling fed ; 
 And that which spites me more than all these wants, 
 He does it under name of perfect love ; 
 As who t should say, if I should sleep or eat, 
 'T were deadly sickness or else present death. 
 I prithee go and get me some repast ; 
 I care not what, so it be wholesome food. 
 
 Grumio. What say you to a neat's foot ? 
 
 Katherina. 'T is passing good : I prithee let me have it. 
 
 Grumio., I fear it is too choleric a meat. 
 How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd? 
 
 Katherina. T like it well ; good Grumio, fetch it me. 
 
 Grumio. I cannot tell ; I fear 't is choleric. 
 What say you to a piece of beef and mustard ? 
 
 Katherina. A dish that I do love to feed upon. 
 
 Grumio. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. 
 
 Katherina. Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest. 
 
 Grumio. Nay then, I will not ; you shall have the mustard, 
 Or else you get no beef of Grumio. 
 
 Katherina. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. 
 
 * Blockheads. t Like one who ; as if he. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 253 
 
 Grumio. Why then, the mustard without the beef. 
 
 Katherina. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, 
 
 \.Beats hhn. 
 That feed'st me with the very name of meat ! 
 Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you 
 That triumph thus upon my misery ! 
 Go, get thee gone, I say." 
 
 Pai^e 1563 line 202. — The poorest service is repaid with thanks, 
 and so shall mine before yoic touch the meat. This is the reading of 
 the best editions of Lamb, so far as we are aware, but good English 
 requires " so shall mine be.'''' Why ? 
 
 Page ISTj line 216. — Haberdasher. The word is now used in 
 England for a dealer in small wares, like ribbons, trimmings, thread, 
 pins, needles, etc. ; but in Shakespeare's day it meant a dealer in 
 hats and caps. George Gascoigne (1530-15 77), in his Fruits of 
 War, says : " The haberdasher heapeth wealth by hattes." 
 
 Line 217. — Here is the cap, etc. Compare the play (iv. 3. 63): 
 
 ^''Haberdasher. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. 
 
 Petruchio. Why, this was moulded on a porringer ; 
 A velvet dish : fie, fie ! 't is lewd and filthy ; 
 Why, 't is a cockle or a walnut-shell, 
 A knack,* a toy, a trick,t a baby's cap. 
 Away with it ! come, let me have a bigger. 
 
 Katherina. I '11 have no bigger; this doth fit the time, 
 And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 
 
 Petruchio. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, 
 And not till then. 
 
 Katherina. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak. 
 And speak I will ; I am no child, no babe : 
 Your betters have endur'd me say my mind, 
 And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. 
 My tongue will tell the anger of my heart. 
 Or else my heart concealing it will break, 
 And rather than it shall I will be free 
 Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 
 
 Petruchio. Why, thou say'st true ; it is a paltry cap, 
 A custard-coffin. J a bauble, a silken pie: 
 I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not. 
 
 Katherina. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap; 
 And \t I will have, or I will have none. [Exit Haberdasher. 
 
 Petruchio. Thy gown ? why, ay. — Come, tailor, let us 
 see 't. 
 O mercy, God ! what masquing stuff is here? 
 What 's this ? a sleeve ? 't is like a demi-cannon. 
 What, up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart? 
 Here 's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, 
 
 * Knick-knack. f Trifle. t The paste or pie-crust holding the custard. 
 
254 NOTES, 
 
 Like to a censer * in a barber's shop. 
 
 Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? 
 
 Tailor. You bid me make it orderly and well, 
 According to the fashion and the time. 
 
 Petruchio. Marry, and did ; but, if you be remembei*'d, 
 I did not bid you mar it to the time. 
 Go, hop me over every kennel home, 
 For you shall hop without my custom, sir. 
 I '11 none of it ; hence ! make your best of it. 
 
 Katherina. I never saw a better-fashion' d gown, 
 More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable. 
 Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. 
 
 Petruchio. Why, true ; he means to make a puppet of thee. 
 
 Tailor. She says your worship means to make a puppet of 
 her. 
 
 Petruchio. O monstrous arrogance ! Thou Hest, thou 
 thread, thou thimble. 
 Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail ! 
 Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou ! 
 Brav'd t in mine own house with a skein of thread .-' 
 Away, thou rag, thou quantity,+ thou remnant, 
 Or I shall so be-mete § thee with thy j'ard 
 As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st !" 
 
 Page 159, line 279. — He affirmed the moon shone brightly at 
 noonday. See the play (iv. 5. 2) : 
 
 " Petruchio. Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon I 
 
 Katherina. The moon! the sun; it is not moonlight now. 
 
 Petruchio. I say it is the moon that shines so bright. 
 
 Katherina. I know it is the sun that shines so bright. 
 
 Petruchio. Now, by my mother's son, and that 's myself, 
 It shall be moon, or star, or what I list. 
 Or ere I journey to your father's house. 
 Go on, and fetch our horses back again. 
 Evermore cross'd and cross' d ; nothing but cross'd ! 
 
 Katherina. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far. 
 And be it moon, or sun, or what you please. 
 An if you please to call it a rush-candle, 
 Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. 
 
 Petruchio. I say it is the moon. 
 
 Katherina. I know it is the moon. 
 
 Petruchio. Nay, then you lie : it is the blessed sun. 
 
 Katherina. Then, God be bless' d, it is the blessed sun ; 
 But sun it is not, when you say it is not, 
 And the moon changes even as your mind. 
 
 * These censers (vessels containing hot coals on which cheap perfumes were 
 sprinkled) had pierced convex covers and stood on feet. They not only served 
 to sweeten a barber's shop, but to keep his water warm and dry his cloths on. 
 
 t Bullied, defied. 
 
 \ Sometimes used in the sense of a very small quantity. § Measure. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 255 
 
 What you will have it nam'd, even that it is ; 
 And so it shall be so for Katherine. 
 
 ******* 
 Petruchio. But, soft ! What company is coming here ? — 
 
 Enter Vincentio. 
 
 \To Vincentio.'\ Good morrow, gentle mistress ; where away?— 
 
 Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, 
 
 Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ? 
 
 Such war of white and red within her cheeks ! 
 
 What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty. 
 
 As those two eyes become that heavenly face? — 
 
 Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. — 
 
 Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. 
 
 Katherina. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh, and sweet, 
 Whither away, or where is thy abode? 
 Happy the parents of so fair a child ! 
 
 Fetruchio. Why, how now, Kate ! I hope thou art not 
 mad ; 
 This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd. 
 And not a maiden, as thou say st he is. 
 
 Katherina. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, 
 That have been so bedazzled with the sun 
 That everything I look on seemeth green. 
 Now I perceive thou art a reverend father ; 
 Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. " 
 
 Page I6O5 line 334. — He had got. All the best authorities give 
 the past participle oi get as got, gotten,* making got the preferable 
 form ; and it is the form used by the best writers now, as it has been 
 for several centuries. Wright, in his Bible Word-Book (2d ed. 
 p. 293) calls gotten (which occurs in Genesis, iv. i, xii. 5, etc.) " the 
 old form of the past participle," and adds that it is "now used only 
 in the compound ill-gotten ;" but at the present time there is a ten- 
 dency (in our opinion, not to be commended) to substitute it iox got. 
 
 Page 161^ line 349. — Now, in good sadness,^ etc. See the play 
 (v. 2. 63) : 
 
 " Ba/>tista. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, 
 I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 
 
 Petruchio. Well, I say no ; and therefore for assurance 
 Let 's each one send unto his wife. 
 And he whose wife is most obedient 
 To come at first when he doth send for her 
 Shall win the wager which we will propose. 
 
 * On the other hand, they give forgotten., forgot, and the former is generally 
 preferred by good writers. 
 
 t In Shakespeare's time sadness often meant seriousness, as ja^ meant serious. 
 It will be seen that the word here is taken from the play. 
 
256 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Hortensio. Content. What is the wager ? 
 
 Litcentio. Twenty crowns. 
 
 Fetruchio. Twenty crowns ! 
 I '11 venture so much of my hawk or hound, 
 But twenty times so much upon my wife. 
 
 Luce7itio. A hundred then. 
 
 Hortensio. Content. 
 
 Petruchio. A match! 'tis done. 
 
 Hortettsio. Who shall begin ? 
 
 Luceniio. That will I. — 
 
 Go, Biondello,* bid your mistress come to me. 
 
 Biondello. I go. \^Exit. 
 
 Baptistd. Son, I '11 be your half, Bianca comes. 
 
 Luceniio. I '11 have no halves ; I '11 bear it all myself. — 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Biondello. Sir, my mistress sends you word 
 
 That she is busy and she cannot come. 
 
 Petruchio. How ! she is busy and she cannot come? 
 Is that an answer ? 
 
 Greniio. Ay, and a kind one too ; 
 
 Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse ! 
 
 Petruchio- I hope, better. 
 
 Hortensio. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife 
 To come to me forthwith. \Exit Biofidello, 
 
 Petruchio. O ho ! entreat her ! 
 
 Nay, then she must needs come. 
 
 Hortensio. I am afraid, sir, 
 
 Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. — 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 Now, where 's my wife ? 
 
 Biondello. She says you have some goodly jest in hand : 
 She will not come ; she bids you come to her. 
 
 Petruchio. Worse and worse ; she will not come ! O vile, 
 Intolerable, not to be endur'd ! — 
 Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress ; 
 Say, I command her come to me. \,Exit Grzimio. 
 
 Horteitsio. I know her answer. 
 
 Petruchio. What ? 
 
 Horterisio. She will not. 
 
 Petruchio. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. 
 
 Baptista. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katherina ! 
 
 Re-enter Katherina. 
 
 Katherina. What is your will, sir, that you send for me? 
 Petruchio. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? 
 Katherina. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. 
 
 * Bi-on-del'-lo {i as in machine)- 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Petruchio. Go, fetch them hither ; if they deny to come, 
 Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands. 
 Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 
 
 \_Exit Katheritta. 
 
 Liicentio. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. 
 
 Hortensio. And so it is ; I wonder what it bodes. 
 
 Petruchio. Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life. 
 And awful rule and right supremacy ; 
 And, to be short, what not, that 's sweet and happy ? 
 
 Baptisia. Now, fair befall thee, good Petruchio! 
 The wager thou hast won ; and I will add 
 Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns. 
 Another dowry to another daughter, 
 For she is chang'd, as she had never been. 
 
 Petruchio. Nay, I will win my wager better yet 
 And show more sign of her obedience. 
 Her new-built virtue and obedience. 
 See where she comes and brings your froward wives 
 As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. — 
 
 Re-enter Katherina, with Bianca and Widow. 
 
 Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not ; 
 Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. 
 
 Widow. Lord, let me nevei' have a cause to sigh 
 Till I be brought to such a silly pass ! 
 
 Biaftca. Fie ! what a foolish duty call you this ? 
 
 Lucentio. I would your duty were as foolish too ; 
 The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 
 Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time. 
 
 Bianca. The more fool you, for laying on my duty. 
 
 Petruchio. Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong 
 women 
 What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. 
 
 Widow. Come, come, you 're mocking ; we will have no 
 telling. 
 
 Petruchio. Come on, I say; and first begin with her. 
 
 Widow- She shall not. 
 
 Petruchio. I say she shall ; — and first begin with her. 
 
 Katherifia. Fie, fie 1 unknit that threatening unkind brow. 
 And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
 To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor ; 
 It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, 
 Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds. 
 And in no sense is meet or amiable. 
 A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled. 
 Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; 
 And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
 Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. 
 Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
 Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thse, 
 And for thy maintenance commits his body 
 To painful labour both by sea and land, 
 
 17 
 
 257 
 
258 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
 Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe, 
 And craves no other tribute at thy hands 
 But love, fair looks, and true obedience — 
 Too Uttle payment for so great a debt." 
 
 Page l(>2j line 385. — By my holidame. This expression is prob- 
 ably equivalent to " by my halidom ;" that is, by my holiness or 
 sanctity, upon my sacred oath. Some take it to be " by my holy 
 dame," or the Virgin Mary. 
 
 Line 394. — Marry, peace it bodes, etc. Marry was originally 
 Mary, and a mode of swearing by the Virgin ; but its origin was 
 probably forgotten in Shakespeare's time. 
 
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 The Winier^s Tale is one of the very latest of Shakespeare's 
 plays, having probably been written in 16 10. It was founded upon 
 a novel by Robert Greene, first published in 1588 under the title of 
 Pandosto, which was afterwards changed to The History of Dorastus 
 and Fawnia. 
 
 Page 165j line 21. — Their school-days. Polixenes says in the 
 play (i. 2. 62) : 
 
 "We were, fair queen, 
 Two lads that thought there was no more behind 
 But such a day to-morrow as to-day, 
 And to be boy eternal ;" 
 
 and in the next speech : 
 
 "We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i'the sun, 
 And bleat the one at the other. What we chang'd * 
 Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not 
 The doctrine t of ill-doing, nor dream'd 
 That any did." 
 
 Page 166, line 55. — MamilUns, In the tale as published by 
 Lamb, the name is " Mamillus," but Shakespeare's form is Ma^nil- 
 litis. 
 
 Line 56. — Beginning to tell one oj his best stories^ etc. Compare 
 the play (ii. i. 22): 
 
 '•^ Hermione. Pray you, sit by us. 
 
 And tell 's a tale. 
 
 * What we exchanged ; our intercourse. t Teaching, instruction. 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 259 
 
 MamilUiis. Merry or sad shall 't be ? 
 
 Hermione. As merry as you will. 
 
 Ma-millius. A sad tale 's best for winter ; I have one 
 Of sprites and goblins. 
 
 Hermione. Let 's have that, good sir. 
 
 Come on, sit down : come on, and do your best 
 To fright me with your sprites ; you 're powerful at it. 
 
 Mantillms. There was a man — 
 
 Her^ftione. Nay, come, sit down ; then on. 
 
 Mamillius. Dwelt by a churchyard : — I will tell it softly ; 
 Yond crickets shall not hear it. " 
 
 Before he can go on with the story his father enters, and it is never 
 finished. 
 
 Line 67. — Delphos. There was a great temple of Apollo on the 
 island of Delos, in the .^gean Sea ; and another at Delphi (or Del- 
 phos), a small town on the southern slope of Mount Parnassus in 
 Greece. At the latter place was the famous oracle which is doubt- 
 less referred to here. Shakespeare took the name from Greene, 
 who calls Delphos an island, perhaps confounding Delphi and 
 Del OS. 
 
 In the centre of the temple at Delphi there was a small opening 
 in the ground, from which at times an intoxicating vapor arose. 
 Over this opening stood a tripod,* on which the priestess of Apollo, 
 who was called Pythia, seated herself when the oracle was to be 
 consulted. The words she uttered after inhaling the vapor were 
 believed to be the prophecies of the god, and were interpreted by 
 the priests. 
 
 Page 167, line 80. — I pray you, Emilia, etc. In the play (ii. 2. 
 35), Paulina says : 
 
 " Pray you, Emilia, 
 
 Commend my best obedience to the queen : 
 
 If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
 
 I '11 show 't the king, and undertake to be 
 
 Her advocate to the loud'st.t We do not know 
 
 How he may soften at the sight o' the child ; 
 
 The silence often of pure innocence 
 
 Persuades when speaking fails." 
 
 Page 168j line 134. — The king would give no credit to the words 
 of the oracle, etc. In the play (iii. 2. 137), after the oracle has been 
 read, this dialogue follows : 
 
 ^^ Leonies. Hast thou read truth? 
 
 Officer. Ay, my lord ; even so 
 
 As it is here set down. 
 
 Leontes. There is no truth at all I' the oracle : 
 The sessions shall proceed ; this is mere falsehood. 
 
 * A three-legged stool or seat. t That is, most boldly- 
 
26o NOTES. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. My lord the king, the king ! 
 
 Leontes. What is the business? 
 
 Servant. O sir, I shall be hated to report it ! 
 The prince your son, with mere conceit * and fear 
 Of the queen's speed,t is gone. 
 
 Leontes, How ! gone ! 
 
 Servant. Is dead! 
 
 Leontes. Apollo 's angry ; and the heavens themselves 
 Do strike at my injustice. — iHermione swoons.^ How now 
 there ! 
 
 Paulina. This news is mortal % to the queen ; look down 
 And see what death is doing." 
 
 Pa^e 169, line 162. — The coast cf Bohemia. Bohemia has no 
 sea-coast. Some critics say that it had one or two seaports in 
 Shakespeare's day; but he represents the capital, Prague, as be- 
 ing on or near the sea. He copied the mistake from Greene's 
 novel. 
 
 Page 170. line 174. — Perdita. The name is Latin, and means 
 lost, or the lost one. 
 
 Page 171, line 23 1. — This is the prettiest low-born lass, etc. Com- 
 pare the play (iv. 4. 156) : 
 
 " This is the prettiest low-bom lass that ever 
 Ran on the green-sward ; nothing she does or seems 
 But smacks of something greater than herself, 
 Too noble for this place." 
 
 Camillo replies : 
 
 "Good sooth, § she is 
 The queen of curds and cream ;" 
 
 that is, she is queenly, though a mere dairy-maid. 
 
 Page 172. line 236. — Pray, my good friejtd, etc. This is also 
 from the play (iv. 4. 166) : 
 
 " Polixenes. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this 
 Which II dances with your daughter? 
 
 Shepherd. They call him Doricles ; and boasts himselt 
 To have a worthy feeding :1I but I have it 
 Upon his own report and I believe it ; 
 He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter : 
 I think so too ; for never gaz'd the moon 
 Upon the water as he '11 stand and read 
 
 * Conception, thought. t Fortune, fate. X Fatal. 
 
 § In good truth. In sooth and to say sooth (to tell the truth), or sooth to say, 
 were common expressions in former times. Compare foot-note on p. 196. 
 
 II IVhich was formerly often applied to persons : as in "Our Father which art 
 in heaven." 
 1[ That is, he boasts that he has a good sheep-.^arm. 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 261 
 
 As 't were ray daughter's eyes ; and, to be plain, 
 I think there is not half a kiss to choose 
 Who loves another * best. " 
 
 Pa^e 173j line 246. — How now, young man, etc. Compare the 
 play (iv. 4. 355): 
 
 " Polixenes. How now, fair shepherd I 
 
 Your heart is full of something that does take 
 Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young 
 And handed t love as you do, I was wont 
 To load my she with knacks. + I would have ransack'd 
 The pedler's silken treasury and have pour'd it 
 To her acceptance ; you have let him go 
 And nothing marted § with him. 
 
 ****** 
 Florizel. Old sir, I know 
 
 She prizes not such trifles as these are : 
 The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd 
 Up in my heart ; which I have given already, 
 But not deliver'd. — O, hear me breathe my life 
 Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
 Hath sometime lov'd ! 
 
 ****** 
 
 Mark our contract. 
 Polixenes {.Discovering hitnsel/.'X Mark your divorce, 
 young sir ! 
 Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base 
 To be acknowledg'd, thou a sceptre's heir, 
 That thus affects || a sheep-hook !" IT 
 
 The contract referred to here is the formal betrothal described in 
 the note on page 144, line 428. 
 
 Page 17 4: J line 274. — Thotigh we are all undone, etc. This is 
 almost exactly from the play (iv. 4. 452) : 
 
 " Even here undone ! 
 I was not much afeard ;** for once or twice 
 I was about to speak and tell him plainly, 
 The selfsame sun that shines upon his court 
 Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
 Looks on alike. — Will 't please you, sir, be gone? 
 I told you what would come of this. Beseech you. 
 Of your own state take care ; this dream of mine, — 
 Being now awake, I '11 queen it no inch farther, 
 But milk my ewes and weep. " 
 
 * " Which loves the other," as in the tale. 
 
 t Was hand in hand with ; gave myself up to. 
 
 % Knick-knacks. § Marketed, traded. (| Lovest. 
 
 IT A shepherd's crook ; the mark or sign of a shepherdess put for the shepherd- 
 ess herself. 
 ** Often used for afraid by Shakespeare and other writers of the time. 
 
262 NOTES. 
 
 Pag'e Hhj line 331. — He showed the rich manth, etc. Compare 
 the play (v. 2. 36) : " That which you hear you'll swear you see, there 
 is such unity in the proofs: the mantle of Queen Hermione's, her 
 jewel about the neck of it, the letters of Antigonus found with it 
 which they know to be his character " (that is, handwriting), etc. 
 Jewel formerly meant any personal ornament of gold or precious 
 stones. 
 
 Page 1765 line 337. — Bzit, O, the noble struggles of Paulina^ etc. 
 This also is imitated from the play (v. 2. 79) : " But, O, the noble 
 combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina ! She had 
 one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that 
 the oracle was fulfilled," etc. 
 
 Line 343. — Made him that he could say nothing. The construction 
 is old-fashioned and seems awkward now. We should rather say 
 "made him unable to say anything," or "affected him so that he 
 could say nothing." The verb viake was formerly used in many 
 constructions that are now obsolete. Compare, for instance, page 
 159, line 282 : "He then made as if he were going back ;" that is, 
 pretended that he was going back. 
 
 Line 347. — Julio Romano. He was born at Rome in 1492 and 
 died in 1546, and was a favorite pupil of Raphael. He was an 
 architect as well as a painter. 
 
 Line 359. — I like your silence^ etc. Compare the play (v. 3. 21) : 
 
 " Paulina. I like your silence, it the more shows o£F 
 Your wonder : but yet speak ; first you, my liege. 
 Comes it not something near ? 
 
 Leontes. Her natural posture ! — 
 
 Chide me, dear stone, that I m ay say indeed 
 Thou art Hermione ; or rather thou art she 
 In thy not chiding, for she was as tender 
 As infancy and grace. — But yet, Paulina, 
 Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing 
 So aged as this seems. 
 
 Polixenes. O, not by much ! 
 
 Paulhia. So much the more our carver's excellencCi 
 Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her 
 As * she liv'd now. 
 
 # * * * * * * 
 
 No longer shall you gaze on 't, lest your fancy 
 May think anon it moves. 
 
 Leofites. Let be, let be ! 
 
 Would I were dead, but that methinks already — 
 Whatt was he that did make it? — See, my lord, 
 Would you not deem it breath' d, and that those veins 
 Did verily bear blood? 
 
 * As it. t Who. Compare page 242, foot-note- 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE, 263 
 
 Polixenes. Masterly done ; 
 
 The very life seems warm upon her lip. 
 
 Paulina. I '11 draw the curtain ; 
 
 My lord 's almost so far transported that 
 He '11 think anon it lives. 
 
 Leojites. O sweet Paulina, 
 
 Make me to think so twenty years together! 
 No settled senses of the world can match 
 The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone. 
 
 Paulitia. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you, but 
 I could afflict you farther. 
 
 Leofttes. Do, Paulina ; 
 
 For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
 As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, 
 There is an air comes from her. What fine chisel 
 Could ever yet cut breath. Let no man mock me, 
 For I will kiss her. 
 
 Patilina. Good my lord, forbear ! 
 
 The ruddiness upon her lip is wet ; 
 You '11 mar it if you kiss it, stain your own 
 With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? 
 
 Leontes. No, not these twenty years. 
 
 Perdita. So long could I 
 
 Stand by, a looker-on. 
 
 Paulina. Either forbear, 
 
 Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you 
 For more amazement. If you can behold it, 
 I '11 make the statue move indeed, descend 
 And take you by the hand ; but then you '11 think — 
 Which I protest against — I am assisted 
 By wicked powers. 
 
 Leontes. What you can make her do, 
 
 I am content to look on ; what to speak, 
 I am content to hear ; for 't is as easy 
 To make her speak as move. 
 
 Paulina. It is requir'd 
 
 You do awake your faith. Then all stand still ; 
 Or those that think it is unlawful business 
 I am about, let them depart. 
 
 Leontes. Proceed ; 
 
 No foot shall stir. 
 
 Paulina. Music, awake her ; strike! 
 
 'T is time ; descend ; be stone no more ; approach, 
 Strike all that look upon with marvel." 
 
 Pag'e 178j line 428. — King Polixenes himself now entered the 
 palace. In the play, as the above extract from it shows, Polixenes 
 arrives before the final scene at Paulina's house. He comes almost 
 immediately after the arrival of Florizel and Perdita, and before the 
 parentage of the latter has been discovered. 
 

 ^iHttli^ 
 
 
 CHANCEL OF STRATFORD CHURCH, WITH SHAKESPEARE'S MONUMENT. 
 
INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES 
 EXPLAINED. 
 
 a (before //), 221. 
 abysm, 186. 
 accept of, 198. 
 accomplished, 36. 
 accomplishment, 36. 
 a-courting, 249. 
 adjudged, 233. 
 advance (=raise), 188. 
 advice, upon, 216. 
 advisedly, 230. 
 advocate, 9. 
 afeard, 261. 
 
 affect (=like, love), 2, 36, 261. 
 affect (=pretend), 34, 37- 
 affected (=inclined), 77. 
 aggravated, 16S. 
 agone, 217. 
 aimed at, 216. 
 Aliena (meaning), 207. 
 alms (=charitable deed), 199. 
 along (=at full length), 52. 
 amain, 232. 
 
 amazed (=bewildered), 142. 
 America (allusion to), 214. 
 among (=between), 228. 
 an (=if ), 199, 229. 
 ancient, 44. 
 antidote, 31. 
 apparent, 217. 
 appertain, 45. 
 apprehended, 142- 
 approve (=prove), 34. 
 archly, 150. 
 Arden, Forest of, 204. 
 Argier, i SB- 
 argument (=proof), 38. 
 Ariosto, 197, 249. 
 artifice, 40, 81. 
 as (=as if), 262. 
 as (omitted), 60. 
 as (=that), 216. 
 as who, 252. 
 As You Like It, 204. 
 asketh (=:requires), 250. 
 assaying, 239- 
 assurance, 161. 
 audience (=hearing\ 135. 
 
 backward (noun), 186. 
 
 Bandello, 197, 212, 242. 
 
 banditti, 87, 219. 
 
 Balthazar (accent), 225. 
 
 bate (=abate), 187. 
 
 be (=are), 82. 
 
 bear me (^behave), 189. 
 
 beadsman, 213. 
 
 become of (=^come of), 45, 202. 
 
 befalls, 142. 
 
 befallen of, 232. 
 
 belike, 218, 237. 
 
 beseeming, 216. 
 
 beshrew, 215- 
 
 bespoke, 236. 
 
 best-conditioned, 93. 
 
 bestow myself, 217. 
 
 bide (=bear), 243. 
 
 biting (embitter), 44. 
 
 black (=dark), 219. 
 
 blind-worms, 23. 
 
 blood (=rank), 217. 
 
 bodes, 162. 
 
 bonny priser, 207. 
 
 Borachio (pronunciation), 201. 
 
 both our maintenance, 208. 
 
 Boys (pronunciation), 205. 
 
 brave (=fine), 5, 14, 5°> ^S^> 187, 1S8, 
 
 250. 
 braved (=bulhed), 254. 
 bravery (=beauty), 187. 
 break (=break one's word), 95. 
 break with, 198, 216. 
 brewing-copper, 20. 
 brought to bed, iii. 
 buffoonery, 35. 
 burghers, 204. 
 but (=except), 233. 
 but (=only), 49. 
 
 Caliban (origin), 135. 
 
 cankers (=canker-worms), 22, 189, 195. 
 
 canopy, 62. 
 
 case (:=skin), 247. _ 
 
 catch him on the hip, 94, 222. 
 
 celebration, 246. 
 
 censer (barbei^s), 254. 
 
266 INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES. 
 
 challenge with, 203. 
 
 changed (=exchanged^, 45, 25^ 
 
 changeling, 194. 
 
 chantry, 245. 
 
 chase, 206. 
 
 cheeriy, 61. 
 
 cherubin, 186. 
 
 children (trisyllable), 241. 
 
 cite, 215. 
 
 cloistress, 134. 
 
 cokes (=cook's), 204. 
 
 comedian, 136. 
 
 Comedy of Errors, 230. 
 
 comfortable, 20, 86. 
 
 compact (accent), 236. 
 
 compass, 42, 242- 
 
 commandement, 228. 
 
 commission, 136. 
 
 conceit (=conception), 260. 
 
 conclude (=believe), 6. 
 
 conduits, 240. 
 
 conference, 39. 
 
 conferring, 162. 
 
 confines (accent), 204. 
 
 confidante, 133. 
 
 confiscated, 104. 
 
 congregation, 42. 
 
 conjectured, 143. 
 
 constancy, 78. 
 
 constant, 61. 
 
 continued, 48. 
 
 contract (=betrothal), 173, 261. 
 
 contrive (=plot), 227. 
 
 convoy, 16. 
 
 copy {=!^subject), 238. 
 
 could not choose but, 37. 
 
 countenance, 62. 
 
 cousin, 205. 
 
 covert, 62. 
 
 coy, 39- , 
 
 crab (=crab-apple), 20. 
 
 cry you mercy. 220. 
 
 cunning (=skilful), 136. 
 
 curst, 250. 
 
 custard-coffin. 253. 
 
 cypress (=crape), 244. 
 
 dear, 206- 
 
 debarred, 125- 
 
 deceivable, 245. 
 
 decked, 186, 
 
 dedicate, 4. 
 
 defeatures, 239. 
 
 deference, 134- 
 
 deformed (= deforming), 239. 
 
 degenerate. 90. 
 
 deliver, 242. 
 
 Delphos, 259. 
 
 demean (=:behave), 237, 238. 
 
 demur, 49. 
 
 depose, 13. 
 
 desperate. 62. 
 
 dilate (=relate), 232. 
 
 disannul, 233. 
 
 discordant, 35- 
 
 discourse, 42, 245. 
 
 discover (^disclose), 12, 198. 
 
 discovery (^exposure), 184. 
 
 dissembler, 146. 
 
 distemperatures, 238. 
 
 di.stract (= distracted), 237. 
 
 divorce, 232. 
 
 doctrine (= teaching), 258. 
 
 doit, 223. 
 
 dotage, 30. 
 
 dote on, 37. 
 
 double comparatives, 226. 
 
 double (=forked), 23. 
 
 double negatives, 198, 202, 227. 
 
 do you rest, 247. 
 
 dressed (=cooked), 155- 
 
 ducat, 93. 
 
 duke, 194- 
 
 eat (=ate), 206. 
 
 effeminate, 133. 
 
 either, 186. 
 
 elegy, 65. 
 
 element (—sky), 134, 244. 
 
 Elephant (inn), 245. 
 
 embassy, 135. 
 
 enamelled, 22. 
 
 enamoured, 29. 
 
 endowments, 36- 
 
 engaged, 47. 
 
 engendered, 63. 
 
 engine (=ladder), 218. 
 
 enjoined, 10. 
 
 entertain, 79. 
 
 entertainment, 8, 189. 
 
 enthralled, 80. 
 
 Epidamnium, 233. 
 
 estimable, 95. 
 
 Ethiop, 49, 203. 
 
 event (=:issue), 82, 148. 
 
 exceeding (adverb), 199. 
 
 excellent (adverb), 38, i99> 200. 
 
 exhibition (^allowance), 214. 
 
 fair befall thee, 162. 
 
 fancy (=love), 249. 
 
 fancy-monger, 209. 
 
 fantastic, 65. 
 
 fat and fulsome, 246. 
 
 fathom (plural), 188. 
 
 fearful {=full of fear), 190. 
 
 featured, rarely, 40. 
 
 feeding (= sheep- farm), 260. 
 
 fell to high words, 196. 
 
 figurative language, 199. 
 
 Fiorentino. Giovanni, 221. 
 
 fleet (verb), 52. 
 
 flout, 234. 
 
 fond (=foolish), 60. 
 
 fool, 204. 
 
 for (=as for), 215. 
 
INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES. 
 
 267 
 
 for (=because), 188. 
 forked heads (=;arrows), 204. 
 formal (=sane), 239. 
 formidable, 142. 
 forsworn, 20. 
 fraughting, 185. 
 froward, 163. 
 function, 247. 
 
 gaberdine, 223* 
 
 Ganimed, 206. 
 
 Genius, 240. 
 
 gentle (of birth), 190. 
 
 gentleness, 25. 
 
 gin (=nbegin), 194. 
 
 glanced (=hinted), 238. 
 
 go about (= endeavor), 201. 
 
 Golden Age, the, 204. 
 
 goodlier, 9. 
 
 gossips (=old women), 21. 
 
 got (participle), 255. 
 
 gracious (r=fortunate), 54. 
 
 grained (^furrowed), 240, 
 
 grizzle, 247. 
 
 greed (=:agreed), 251. 
 
 haberdasher, 253. 
 
 habit (=dress), 132. 
 
 habited, 57, 153- 
 
 haggard (noun), 200. 
 
 handed love, 261. 
 
 hap, 232. 
 
 heart-struck, 44- 
 
 henchman, 194. 
 
 herculean, 150, 249. 
 
 bests, 188. 
 
 higher (=:taller), 108,. 229. 
 
 hold (=:keep), 27. 
 
 holidame, 258. 
 
 homely (derivation), 212. 
 
 house (=family), 59- 
 
 humorous (= capricious), 207. 
 
 hungerly, 154- , ,^ 
 
 husband (^betrothed), 247. 
 
 idea (=image), 45- 
 ill success, 138, 244. 
 importuned (accent), 232. 
 impostor, 9. 
 imputation, 35. 
 inconstant, 85. 
 indifferent (adverb), 137. 
 in good sadness, 161. 
 in gross, 224. 
 ingrate (adjective), 246. 
 in (omitted), 222- 
 instance (=example), 245- 
 instance (=:sign), 231. 
 intelligence, 81. 
 interest (==usury), 222. 
 interposition, 72. 
 intimation, 138. 
 inventory, 137. 
 
 irks, 204. 
 irony, 202. 
 irrevocable, 57. 
 is (plural), 190. 
 it (of persons), 250. 
 
 jangling, 27. 
 
 Jew (contemptuous), 199. 
 
 joltheads, 252. 
 
 Julio Romano, 262. 
 
 jump (=:;agree), 248. 
 
 Kate (play upon), 251. 
 king of shadows, 197. 
 knack, 253, 261. 
 kn oiled, 62, 209. 
 
 Lamb, Charles, 183. 
 
 " Mary, 183. 
 Lapland witches, 237. 
 lapwing, 39, 200. 
 lay (=bet), 161, 163. 
 let (^hinder), 248. 
 like of, 191, 203. 
 lineage, 66. 
 literal language, 199. 
 livings, 224. 
 Lodge, Thomas, 204. 
 love in idleness (flower), 21, 195. 
 
 made up to, 142. 
 
 maid, 189. 
 
 make (=do), 207. 
 
 marted, 261. 
 
 marry (=Mary), 258. 
 
 marvellous (adverb), 197. 
 
 maugre, 245. 
 
 mean (=means), 216. 
 
 melancholy, 7. 
 
 mellow, 242. 
 
 Merchant of Venice, 221. 
 
 Messaline, 242. 
 
 metaphor, 199. 
 
 methinks, 30. 
 
 Midsummer-Night's Dream, 193* 
 
 mind (=opinion), 105. 
 
 minion (^favorite), 39, 199. 
 
 Miranda (meaning), 184. 
 
 miscarried (=perished), 230. 
 
 Montemayor, Jorge de, 212. 
 
 moralizing, 52. 
 
 more elder, 226. 
 
 mortal (=fatal), 260. 
 
 mount (transitive), 185. 
 
 mow (=make faces), 185. 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing, 197. 
 
 muse (=wonder), 214. 
 
 nmsic of the spheres, 245. 
 
 naughty, 43, 107, aoi. 
 negotiate, 136. 
 newts, 23. 
 nice (=fastidious), 217. 
 
268 
 
 INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES. 
 
 nominated (=named), 223. 
 nor (^neither), 245. 
 note, come to, 246. 
 nothing (adverb), 99, 150. 
 nuptials, 16. 
 
 O, 196. 
 
 Oberon, 194. 
 
 observance (^obedience), 132. 
 
 office (taction), 37. 
 
 oh, 196. 
 
 omitting (=:neglecting), 213. 
 
 on (=of), 189. 
 
 only (transposed), 205. 
 
 opportunely, 72. 
 
 or (=either), 232. 
 
 orbed continent, 249. 
 
 out of suits with, 56. 
 
 overweening, 218. 
 
 owe (=:own), 189. 
 
 pageants (—dramas), 219. 
 
 Panthino, 214. 
 
 party (=person), 227. 
 
 passengers, 86. 
 
 passing (=:very), 219. 
 
 peevish (=silly), 216. 
 
 Perdita (meaning), 260. 
 
 peremptory, 78, 135. 
 
 perforce, 237. 
 
 persever, 196. 
 
 perspective, 248. 
 
 Petruchio (pronunciation), 201, 249. 
 
 Philomel, 23. 
 
 Phoenix (a house), 234. 
 
 plainings, 231. 
 
 plaudits, 104. 
 
 poesy (=posy), 229. 
 
 Portia (wife of Brutus), 224. 
 
 Porpentine, 236. 
 
 posy, 229. 
 
 praise (=appraise), 137. 
 
 prelude, 82. 
 
 presently (=instantly), 39, 200. 
 
 prickes (=:prickles), 185. 
 
 prime (=first, chief), 189. 
 
 priser, 207. 
 
 prithee, 187. 
 
 proper (ironical), 46, 202. 
 
 propriety, 247. 
 
 prosecution, 75. 
 
 Protean, 212. 
 
 Proteus (pronunciation), 212. 
 
 provided (^equipped), 214. 
 
 quaint, 15. 
 quaintly, 217. 
 quality (=nature), 225. 
 quantity, 254. 
 quotidian, 209. 
 
 race (=nature), 185. 
 rare (—beautiful), 48. 
 
 ' rate ( = rank), 29. 
 
 I rated (=:chided), 222. 
 
 I ratified, 71. 
 
 receive (=believe), 219. 
 
 receiving (:=understanding), 244. 
 
 reft, 232. 
 
 relation (=relative), 225. 
 
 relinquishing, 72. 
 
 remember (:=remind), 187. 
 
 remorse (=pity), 206. 
 
 repeal (=recall), 221. 
 
 reprehended, 125. 
 
 returned back, 211. 
 
 rheum, 223. 
 
 Rialto, the, 221. 
 
 Rich, Barnaby, 241. 
 
 riddling, 127. 
 
 ripe (=ready), 146, 231. 
 
 Robin Hood, 204, 219. 
 
 roundel, 195. 
 
 sadness (=seriousness), 161, 255. 
 
 salutation, 34. 
 
 sanctuary, 239. 
 
 sarcasm, 35. 
 
 sconce (=head), 234. 
 
 'sense (^excuse), 228. 
 
 sea-nymphs, r88. 
 
 search (=probe), 213. 
 
 seasons (=^tempers), 225. 
 
 semblance, 48, 241. 
 
 senate-house (Venice), 225. 
 
 several (=separate), 76, 213, 
 
 shadows (—spirits), 27. 
 
 Shakespeare, William, 184. 
 
 shapeless idleness, 212. 
 
 sheep-hook, .173, 261. 
 
 should (=would), 82. 
 
 show (=appear), 252. 
 
 Sidney, Sir PhiHp, 212. 
 
 simile, 199. 
 
 sinking- ripe, 231. 
 
 sith, 213. 
 
 sits the wind in that quarter ? 199. 
 
 skilless (:=ignorant), 191. 
 
 sluggardized, 212. 
 
 so (=so be it), 96, 224. 
 
 so (^=so that), 217. 
 
 solicitations, 141. 
 
 some settled low content, 208. 
 
 sooth, 196, 243, 260. 
 
 sop, 154. 
 
 sore (adverb), 109. 
 
 sorted, 214. 
 
 speed (^fortune), 260. 
 
 Spenser, 197. 
 
 spent (=wom out), 61. 
 
 spet, 223. 
 
 spheres (=stars), 141. 
 
 spinster, 139, 244. 
 
 steaded, 187. 
 
 stomach (=courage), 186. 
 
 strained (=compulsive), 225. 
 
INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES. 
 
 !69 
 
 strangle thy propriety, 247. 
 
 strayed (transitive), 238. 
 
 stupefied, 12. 
 
 subsisted (=existed), 53, 74. 
 
 success (=issue), 138, 244. 
 
 such-like, 213. 
 
 sufferance, 94. 
 
 sun-expelling mask, 219. 
 
 support, 178. 
 
 supremacy, 162. 
 
 sword (swearing by), 202. 
 
 tackle (=rigging), 4. 
 
 tallest (of two), 206. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew, 249. 
 
 Tempest, The, 184. 
 
 tender (verb), 218. 
 
 termagant, 150, 249, 
 
 that (=so that), 217. 
 
 that (superfluous), 242. 
 
 that (r=that which), 232. 
 
 Theseus (pronunciation), 193. 
 
 thought (=anxiety), 243. 
 
 throughly, 213. 
 
 Titania, 194. 
 
 toad-stone, 205. 
 
 to (=:-compared to), 216. 
 
 to (=for), 217. 
 
 to his heart, 195. 
 
 to (omitted), 211. 
 
 tragical, 53. 
 
 transported, 177. 
 
 trick (=trifle), 253. 
 
 trifle time, 103. 
 
 tripod, 259. 
 
 troth, 196. 
 
 Twelfth Night, 241. 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, 212. 
 
 uncontrolled, 15. 
 uncouth, 15. 
 
 undergoing (=sustaining), 1S6. 
 
 unmeet, 45. 
 
 unmellowed, 215. 
 
 unrequited, 140. 
 
 untutored, 60. 
 
 upon advice, 216. 
 
 usurper, 51. 
 
 vantage, 214. 
 
 venison, 52. 
 
 venomous, 52. 
 
 very (—true), 65. 
 
 Viola (pronunciation), 242. 
 
 voracious, 12. 
 
 ward (in fencing), igo. 
 
 wasted (=spent), 21. 
 
 weaker vessel, 58. 
 
 weed (=robe), 195, 248. 
 
 wench (—girl), 151, 189, 250. 
 
 were (=would be), 35, 37, 46. 
 
 what time, 246. 
 
 what (^who), 242, 262. 
 
 which (=who), 260. 
 
 whiles (=until), 246. 
 
 whiles (=while), 203. 
 
 who (=omitted), 197. 
 
 who (=whoever), 217. 
 
 who (without verb), 223. 
 
 wide (=far from the truth), 43. 
 
 Winter's Tale, The, 258. 
 
 wit (=wisdom), 141. 
 
 with (==by), 198. 
 
 withal, 237. 
 
 wrack (=wreck), 188. 
 
 wrangle, 245. 
 
 wrest (= misinterpret), loi. 
 
 year (plural), 186. 
 
 yond, 188. 
 
 youngest (of two), 233, 
 
/ 
 
 
 ANNE HATHAWAY's COTTAGE AT SHOTTERY, NEAR STRATFORD.