LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 825.56 Te 1864 ae: Z Sle it fe iy Ps ayy z Ss THE PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE. 3 2 er: * _ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2021 with funding trom _ University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign https://archive.org/details/olaysofshakespea01shak_0 Miu nti nin min /\ PERCIYAL SKELTON del J.GoprrReyY,Ssulpt é! \ eee Por bk & | GALPIN LONDON. PARIS &® NEW YORK 34 THE PLAYS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. EDITED AND ANNOTATED BY CHARLES anD MARY COWDEN CLARKE. ILLUSTRATED sy H. C. SELOUS. THE COMEDIES. OECShih PEDTER & GALPIN: LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK. 2 Sate ~ Ha) ib id A ri ‘4 = 7 4 i te ~ ry a —_ ~~ as af’ = 3 ¢ a 1 as * a % i ; ’ ANGN.O; VEN, CoE MOE NTT. Tur first Volume of this Edition of SHaxesPEaRE consists of the Comepies; the Hisrorican Piays occupy the second; and the third contains the Tracepres, together with the Kditor’s Preface and the Life of Shakespeare. CONTENTS. THE TEMPEST ... THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR MEASURE FOR MEASURE ... THE COMEDY OF ERRORS MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE AS YOU LIKE IT THE TAMING OF THE SHREW... ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL... THE WINTER'S TALE ees oe PAGE 43 83 131 179 213 263 319 471 527 593 649 ALE TAGD ~ DRAMATIS PERSONA. ——_#>e—_—— Atonso, King of Naples. SEBASTIAN, his brother. Prospero, the rightful Dake of Milan. Anton1o, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. Ferprnanp, son to the King of Naples. Gonzao, an honest old Counsellor, ADRIAN, i Route Franctsco, ; CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave. TrincuLo, a Jester. SrepuHano, a drunken Butler. Master of a Ship. Boatswain. Mariners. Mrranpa, daughter to Prospero. ARIEL, an airy Spirit. Iris, CEREs, JUNO, Spirits. Nymphs, Reapers, Other Spirits attending on Prospero. Scene—The Sea, with a ship: afterwards an unuinhabited Island. TO EC a K \ WY ¢ WW ¥ NS SI AF, EF 3 , ‘ AS THE TEMPEST-. So —— ao ae SCENE I.—On a Ship at sea: a storm, with thunder and lightning. Enter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain. Mast. Boatswain! Boats. Here, master: what cheer? Mast. Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t yarely,’ or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. [ Hait. Enter Mariners. Boats. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the top-sail. Tend to the master’s whistle.—Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough !3 Enter Atonso, SepastTran, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, Gonzao, and others. Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master ? Play the men.* Boats. I pray now, keep below. Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ? Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. Gon. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not. Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. (1) The earliest printed copy known of “THE Tempsrst”’ is that in the Folio published by Shakespeare’s fellow-actors, Heminge and Condell, in 1623, seven years after the poet’s death. The first performance of this play is believed to have taken place on “ Hal- lowmas Night” (lst November), 1611. This gives confirmation to the internal evidence of the style—mature in beauty and rich fancy —that this play was one of!the last-written productions of its author. The source of the plot was supposed to have been derived from an Italian novel, translated into English in 1588, and since thought to be traced to a German play, called “The Beautiful Sidea;” while some of the circumstances recorded in the life of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, Duke of Milan, a patron of Petrarch, ' the founder of Milan Cathedral, and a man much addicted to books and studious retirement at one period of his life, seem Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, ® we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good hearts.—Out of our way, I say. [ Heit. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage! If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. | Kxeunt. Re-enter Boatswain. Boats. Down with the topmast: yare; lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course.® [A ery within.| A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office— Re-enter Srpastran, ANTONIO, and Gonzao. Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o’er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink? Seb. A plague o’ your throat, you bawling, blas- phemous, incharitable dog! Boats. Work you, then. Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you rascally, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. to have suggested to Shakespeare the germ of his character of Prospero. (2) Yarely. Alertly, promptly. (8) If room enough. Good authorities on marine technicalities have pronounced the sea orders given throughout this scene to be strictly correct. Lord Mulgrave, Sir Henry Manwaring, and Cap- tain Glasscock, have all shown how thoroughly the poet was versed in the subject he here treated. (4) Play the men. Behave yourselves with manly spirit and courage. (5) Present. Present time. (6) To try with main-cowrse. In Smith’s “Sea Grammar,” 1627, this is explained—‘ To hale the tacke aboord, the sheat close aft, the boling set up, and the helm tied close aboord.” 4 THE TEMPEST. iAcrel: Gon. Vl warrant him for drowning ;7 though | “We split, we split!”—“ Farewell, my wife and the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, and as children !” z leaky as an unstanched wound. “ Farewell, brother!”—‘‘ We split, we split, we Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two split 1’’] , ; courses:® off to sea again; lay her off. Ant. Let’s all sink with the king. [ Exit. Seb. Let’s take leave of him. [ Hatt. Re-enter Mariners, wet. Mariners. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost ! [ Haeunt. Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? Boatswain. What care these roarers for the name of king? Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them, For our case is as theirs. Seb. I’m out of patience. Ant.. We are merely? cheated of our lives by drunkards.— This wide-chapp’d rascal,—would thou might’st lie drowning, The washing of ten tides! [Exit Boatswain. Gon. He’ll be hang’d yet, Though every drop of water swear against it, And gape at wid’st to glut!® him. [A confused noise within: “ Mercy on us!” (7) For drowning. “For” was often used for * from.” (8) Two courses. These “courses” are two of the three largest and lowest sails; and to “lay her a-hold” is to bring the ship to lie as near the wind as she can. (9) Merely. Absolutely. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [ Ewit. Act I. Scene I. SCENE I1.—The Island ; before the cell of PROSPERO. Enter Prospero and MirranpDa. Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek," Dashes the fire out. Oh, I have suffer’d With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her, Dash’d all to pieces. Oh, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls! they perish’d. Had I been any god of power, I would (10) Glut. To swallow up, englut. French, engloutir. (11) Welkin’s cheek. “Welkin” (Saxon, pealcan, to roll; or pel- cen, clouds) is an old word for the region of air; and Shakespeare has “cheeks of heaven,” “ cheeks o’ the air,” in other passages, for poetical allusion to the sky. — AWS: 1p) MB a oS Miranda. Oh, woe the day! Prospero. No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee,— Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter. Act I. Scene II. Scene IT.j Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ere It should the good ship so have swallow’d, and The fraughting” souls within her. Pros. Be collected : No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart, There’s no harm done. Mir. Oh, woe the day! Pros. No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee,— Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter,—who Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing Of whence I am; nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. Mir. More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. Pros. "Tis time T should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.—So : [Lays down his robe. Lie there, my art.—Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’d The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely order’d, that there is no soul— No, not so much perdition as a hair Betid" to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down ; For thou must now know farther. Mir. You have often Begun to tel! me what Iam; but stopp’d, And left me to a bootless" inquisition, Concluding, “ Stay, not yet.” Pros. The hour’s now come ; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came into this cell? T do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old.'® Mir. Certainly, sir, I can. Pros. By what? by any other house or person ? Of anything the image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance. mn Mir. Tis 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 ? Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. is it That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm! of time ? If thou remember’st aught ere thou cam’st here, How thou cam’st here thou mayst. But how (12) Fraughting. An old form of freighting. The word is here used to express those who form the freight of the vessel, and thronged or filled her. - (13) More better. A double comparative was formerly in use, and frequent instances are found in Shakespeare. (14) Betid. Betided, befallen, happened. (15) Bootless. Fruitless, unsuccessful. (16) Out three years old. “Out” for “completely, quite.” a eds in this play, we have “Be a boy right out.” Act iv., se. 1. (17) Abysm. Abyss. From the old French abisme. G&) Holp. Old form of helped. > 6 THE TEMPEST: 7 Mir. But that I do not. Pros. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year | since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and A prince of power. Mir. Sir, are not you my father? Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir A princess,—no worse issu’d. Mir. Oh, the heavens ! What foul play had we, that we came from thence ? Or blessed was’t we did ? Pros. Both, both, my girl: By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav’d thence ; But blessedly holp'* hither. Mir. Oh, my heart bleeds To think o’ the teen** that I have turn’d you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. Pros. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio,— I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should Be so perfidious !—he whom, next thyself, Of all the world I lov’d, and to him put The manage of my state; as, at that time, Through all the signories it was the first (And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity), and, for the liberal arts, Without a parallel; those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother, And to my state grew stranger, being transported And wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle— Dost thou attend me ? Mir. Sir, most heedfully. Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, whom t’advance, and whom To trash for over-topping,”® new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed them, Or else new formed them: having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts V the state To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, And suck’d my verdure out on’t.—Thou attend’st not. Mir. Oh, good sir, I do. Pros. - I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness, and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retired, O’er-priz’d all popular rate, in my false brother Awak’d an evil nature; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood, in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans*! bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, (19) Teen. Trouble, grief. Saxon, ceonan, injuries; Flemish, tenen, to vex. ‘“Turn’d you to” is an expression that we meet with again in “ Coriolanus,” iii. 1 (“ Shall turn you to no farther harm”’); equivalent to “ occasioned you,” “caused you.” | (20) Trash for gver-topping. These are sporting terms, the former meaning to check, stop, or correct a hound; the latter, out- running the rest of the pack. Shakespeare often_metaphorises thus, using technicalities in a figurative sense. He frequently, too, makes a nominative serve, unrepeated, through a long sen- tence; as in this speech, “thy uncle” (named in Prospero’s pre: vious speech) serves to govern the whole narration. (21) Sans. French, without. i 8 THE TEMPEST. But what my power might else exact,—like one,” Who having, unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie,—he did believe He was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution, And executing th’ outward face of royalty, With all prerogative :—hence his ambition growing,— Dost thou hear ? Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pros. To have no screen between this part he play’d, And him he play’d it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man,* my library Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates™ (So dry* he was for sway) with the King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbow’d,—alas ! poor Milan— To most ignoble stooping. Mir. Ou, the heavens! Pros. Mark his condition, and th’ event; then tell me If this might be a brother. Mir. I should sin To think but” nobly of my grandmother : Good wombs have borne bad sons. Pros. Now the condition. This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit ; Which was, that he, in lieu o’*” the premises,— Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,— Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honours, on my brother : whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan ; and, i’ the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying self. Mir. Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried out then, Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint® That wrings mine eyes to’t. Pros. Hear a little farther, And then I’ll bring thee to the present business Which now’s upon’s ; without the which, this story Were most impertinent. Mir. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? _ (22) Like one, who having, unto truth, &e. This phrase, some- what obscurely expressed, seems to mean, “One who, having long repeated a lie, sins against truth by forgetting it and believing his own falsehood instead.” (23) Me, poor man, &c. Here “for” is understood before “me +3 as in a similar passage in “Timon of Athens,” v. 1:—‘ Whose thankless natures, not all the whips of heaven are large enough ;” where “for” is understood before “ whose.” (24) Confederates. Rarely now used as a verb. (25) So dry he was for sway. “Dry” is a homely word for “thirsty.” (26) To think but nobly. “But” is here used exceptively, and means “any other than,” or “ otherwise than.” (27) In leu o’ the. “In lieu of” here has not its usual significa- tion of “instead of,” or “in place of,’ but means “in exchange for,’ “as an equivalent for.” (28) Hint. Used for “suggested ground;” and again in the first speech at the beginning of the next Act we find “ our hint of woe,” for “ the ground or subject of our woe.” [Act I. Pros. Well demanded, wench : My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,— So dear the love my people bore me,—nor set A mark so bloody on the business; but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few,” they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar’d A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively have quit it :°° there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sigh To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. Mir. Alack, what trouble Was I then to you! Pros. Oh, a cherubin Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, Infuséd with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck’d the sea*! with drops full salt, Under my burden groan’d; which rais’d in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. Mir. How came we ashore ? Pros. 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 loved my books, he furnish’d me, From mine own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. Mir. Would I might But ever see that man! Pros. Now [I arise :— [Puts on his robe again. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princess’** can, that have more time For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. Mir. Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir,— For still *tis beating in my mind,—your reason For raising this sea-storm ? Pros. Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune— Now my dear lady**—hath mine enemies (29) In few. For “ briefly,” “in few words.” (30) Have quit it. The old writers sometimes used “have” for “had,” and also “quit” for “ quitted,” especially where the rhythm required the abbreviated form. As in Ariel’s third speech, “plunged in the foaming prine, and quit the vessel.” (31) Deck’d the sea. To “ deck,’ or “deg,” is a provincial term for “to sprinkle.” (32) An undergoing stomach. An enduring fortitude or courage. Shakespeare otten uses “stomach” in the sense of valour; some- times in that of pride or haughtiness, and sometimes in that of wrath or choler, according to the original Latin word, stomachus. The classical reader will remember— “Nec gravem Pelide stomachum,” &c. in Horace’s Ode VI. to Agrippa. (33) Princess’. For “princesses.” A form of plural to be found in old writers, where it suited the rhythm. (34) Now my dear lady. Now propitious to me. Scene IT.] Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence Tf now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions : Thou art inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness, And give it way :—I know thou canst not choose.— [Miranda sleeps. | 24 Prospero. Thou earth, thou! speak. Come away, servant, come! Jam ready now: Approach, my Ariel, come! Enter ARIEL. Ari. Allhail, great master! grave sir, hail! 1 come To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl’d clouds: to thy strong bidding task Ariel, and all his quality.® Pros. Hast thou, spirit, Perform’d to point** the tempest that I bade thee ? Ari. To every article. I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I fam’d amazement: sometimes I’d divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, (35) Quality. Gift, qualification. (36) To point. Exactly, punctiliously. (37) Distinctly. Separately. (38) Seem to besiege. It is not unusual with Shakespeare to THE TEMPEST. 9 The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,*” Then meet, and join. Jove’s lightnings the precursors O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege,** and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. Pros. My brave spirit! What, ho! slave! Caliban! Act I. Scene Il. Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil*® Would not infect his reason ? Art. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d Some tricks of desperation. All, but mariners, Plung’d in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring,—then like reeds, not hair,— Was the first man that leap’d; cried “Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.” Pros. Why, that’s my spirit! But was not this nigh shore ? Art. Close by, my master. Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe? Art. Not a hair perish’d ; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou bad’st me, deviate into present tense, while relating an event that has occurred, and it gives great vivacity and force to the effect. (39) Coil. Used here for “noise,” “tumult.” 10 THE TEMPEST. In troops I have dispers’d them *bout the isle. The king’s son have I landed by himself; Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms in this sad knot.*° Pros. Of the king’s ship The mariners, say how thou hast dispos’d, And all the rest o’ the fleet. Art. Safely in harbour Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex’d Bermoothes,‘! there she’s hid: The mariners all under hatches stow’d ; Whom, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour, T have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet, Which I dispers’d, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote,” Bound sadly home for Naples ; Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d, And his great person perish. Pros. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform’d: but there’s more work. What is the time o’ the day? Ari. Past the mid season. Pros. At least two glasses.“° The time *twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet perform’d me. Pros. How now! moody? What is’t thou canst demand ? Ari. My liberty. Pros. Before the time be out? no more! Ari. 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. Pros. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee ? Ari. No. Pros. Thou dost; and think’st it much, to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o’ th’ earth When it is bak’d with frost. Ari. I do not, sir. Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? (40) His arms in this sad knot. Shakespeare, like a true dra- matist, gives by a touch a hint to his performers and a picture to his audience. Here, the tricksy sprite Ariel wreathing his arms in mimicry of the sad young prince he is describing, is indicated by the single word “this.” _ (41) The still-vea’d Bermoothes. The poet’s epithet, “ still-vex’d,” is exquisitely chosen to convey the idea of the ever-troubled sea that chafes and beats round the rocky shore of the Bermuda Is- lands. This passage suffices to show that Bermuda is not the scene of this play (as some commentators have tried to prove it is); since Ariel is sent to fetch dew from thence. We believe the island of “Tur Temprst”’ to be not Bermuda, or Lampedusa, or any other known and real island; but purely an island of Shakespeare’s imagination,—a type of poetical islands per se. [Acr I. Ari. No, sir. Pros. Thou hast. speak ; tell me. Ari. Sir, in Argier.“ Pros. Oh, was she so? I must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget’st. This curs’d witch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she did, They would not take her life. Is not this true ? Art, Ay, sir. Pros. This blue-eyed* hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report’st thyself, was then her servant: And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands, Refusing her grand hests,*® 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 she died, And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island— Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp, hag-born—not honour’d with A human shape. Ari. Yes; Caliban, her son. Pros. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears: it was a torment To lay upon the doom’d, which Sycorax Could not again undo. It was mine art, When I arriv’d and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out. Ari. I thank thee, master. Pros. -If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters. Ari. Pardon, master: I will be correspondent* to command, And do my spiriting gently. Where was she born? Pros. Do so; and after two days I will discharge thee. Ari. That’s my noble master ! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea: be subject To no sight but thine and mine; invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape, (42) The Mediterranean flote. A poetic name for sea, as collec- tive waves; from French, flot, a wave. (43) Glasses. The hour-glass, the instrument for measuring wae is here used for time itself; “two glasses” meaning “ two ours.” - (44) Argier. The old name for Algiers. (45) Blue-eyed. This epithet, as applied by Shakespeare, is far from being commendatory, as at present. He uses it here to describe the dull, bleared, neutral colour seen in the eyes of old crones; and he uses “a blue eye” (“As You Like It,” iii. 2) to represent an eye that is hollow, heavy, void of brightness and animation. (46) Hests. Behests, mandates. (47) Correspondent. Answerably submissive; obediently adapted. See Scenz IL. | And hither come in’t; go, hence with diligence.— [Heit Ariel. Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake ! Mir. [Waking] The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Pros. Shake it off. Come on; We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. Mir. Tis a villain, sir, T do not love to look on. Pyros. But, as *tis, We cannot miss him:** he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serve in offices That profit us.—What, ho! slave! Caliban ! Thou earth, thou! *° speak. Cal. [Within] There’s wood enough within. Pros. Come forth, I say; there’s other business for thee: Come, thou tortoise! when ? °° Re-enter Antex, like a water nymph. Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [ Heit. Pros. Thou poisonous slave, come forth ! Enter CauiBan. Cal. As wicked dew®! as e’er my mother brush’d With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o’er! Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins” Shall, for that vast of night** that they may work, All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch’d As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made them. Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak’st from me. When thou camest first, Thou strok’dst me, and mad’st much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in’t; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I lov’d thee, And show’d thee all the qualities o’ the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile : Curséd be I that did so !—All the charms (48) We cannot miss him. We cannot do without him; an expres- sion still in provincial use. (49) Thow earth, thou! The terms in which Caliban is sum- moned suffice to proclaim the essence of his being. He is earthiness itself, grossly material; in elemental and entire contrast to Ariel. (50) When? An exclamation denoting impatience. (51) Wicked dew. ‘‘ Wicked” is here used by Shakespeare as Spenser uses it in his expression “ wicked weed,” for baneful or harmful property. So, on the contrary, we still say the “ virtues,” or “ virtuous” qualities in medicinal herbs and plants. (52) Urehins. An old name for hedgehogs; and also for evil sprites and mischievous fairies. (53) Vast of night. That dark space of night when vastness and solitude are mainly suggested. So in “ Hamlet :”—‘‘ The dead vast and middle of the night.” s (54) Which first was mine own king. “Which” used here for who.” (55) Thy vile race. descent. “Race” is here used for original stock, THE TEMPEST. ll Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! For [ am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king ;* and here you sty me Tn this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o’ th’ island. Pros. Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness: I have us’d thee, Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodg’d thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. Oal. Oh, ho, oh, ho! would it had been done ! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pros. Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endowed 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; therefore wast thou Deservedly confin’d into this rock, Who hadst deserv’d more than a prison. Cal. Youtaught me language ; and my profit on’t Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you,” For learning me your language ! 7 Pros. Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou’rt best, To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice? Tf thou neglect’st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps,”* Fill all thy bones with achés,®® make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din. Cal. No, pray thee !— [Aside] I must obey, his art is of such power, It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,” And make a vassal of him. Pros. So, slave; hence! [ Exit Caliban. Re-enter ARtEL, invisible, playing and singing ; Ferpinanp following. ARIEL’S song. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court’sied when you have and kissed,—® The wild waves whist,— (56) The red plague rid you. The “red plague” was an old name for erysipelas; and to “rid” is used by Shakespeare for “ destroy” here and in “3 Henry VI.,” v. 5 :—“ As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!” ' ‘ (57) Learning me your language. To “learn” is often misused for to “teach,” and has thus a characteristic effect in Caliban’s mouth. (58) Old cramps. “Old” is frequently used by Shakespeare in the sense of excessive abounding: as, “old abusing,” “old coil,” * old utis,” &c. : (59) Achés. This word was formerly pronounced as a dissyl- lable, especially where the rhythm demanded it. When used as a verb, it was generally spelt with a “k,” and sounded hard, as a monosyllable. ; , (60) Setebos. The name found in books of travel, in Shake- speare’s time, for a demon-deity. (61) Court sied when you have and kiss’d. Both these pleasant observances were customary at the commencement of dances, in “the good old times of merry England.” The next line seems to mean—‘ The waves hush’d to silence the while.” ee 12 THE TEMPEST. Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark ! Burden (dispersedly]. The watch-dogs bark: Burden [dispersedly]. Bowgh, wowgh. Hark, hark! I hear ’ The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo. Fer. Where should this music be? i’ th’ air or th’ earth P— It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon Some god o’ th’ island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father’s wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion, — With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it, Or it hath drawn me rather :—But *tis gone.— No, it begins again. ARIEL sings. 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 Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. Burden: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell. Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell. Bowgh, wowgh. Fer. The ditty does remember my drown’d father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes :®—I hear it now above me. Pros. The fringéd curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond’. Mir. What is’t? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form :—but ’tis a spirit. Pros. No, wench; it eats, and sleeps, and hath such senses As we have; such. This gallant, which thou seest, Was in the wreck; 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 them. Mir. IT might call him A thing divine; for nothing natural T ever saw so noble. Pros. [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it.—Spirit, fine spirit! Pll free thee Within two days for this. Fer. 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,—oh, you wonder!— If you be maid, or no ? Mir. But certainly a maid. No wonder, sir ; _ (62) Of his bones are coral made. The false grammatical concord in this line is one of many that we shall have to notice, where the preceding noun ends with “s.” Such licence was, in Shakespeare’s time, allowable. (63) The earth owes. ‘‘Owe” was formerly used for own, pos- sess. See “the name thou ow’st not,” a few speeches farther on. (64) Control. Confute; bring a contrary account. Bacon uses the word in precisely this sense. (65) Done yourself some wrong. Shakespeare, in his thorough Act I. Fer. My language! heavens i— I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where ’tis spoken. Pros. How! the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee ? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; And, that he does, I weep: myself am Naples ; Who with mine eyes, ne’er since at ebb, beheld The king, my father, wreck’d. Mir. Alack, for mercy ! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan, And his brave son, being twain. Pros. [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter, could control thee, If now ’twere fit to do’t.—At the first sight They have changed eyes—Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this !—[To Fer.] A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong :” a word. oe [Aside] Why speaks my father so ungently? his Is the third man that e’er I saw; the first That e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my father To be inclin’d my way ! Fer. Oh! if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, Pll make you The queen of Naples. Pros. Soft, sir;.one word more.— [Aside] They are both in either’s powers: but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light.—[To Fer.] One word more: I charge thee, That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp The name thou ow’st not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on’t. Fer. No, as I am a man. Mir. 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. Pros. é Follow me.— [To Mir.] Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor.—- [To Fer.| Come; Tl 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. Fer. I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy has more power. (Draws, and is charmed from moving. Mir. Oh, dear father ! Make not too rash a trial of him, for He’s gentle, and not fearful. No; gentility of mind, uses this expression here and elsewnere wien the speaker taxes another with uttering an untruth. (66) He’s gentle, and not fearful. Though Shakespeare some- times uses “fearful” in the sense of “ formidable,” “to be feared” (in which case Miranda’s words would mean— He’s mild, and not to be dreaded’), we think, from the context of the whole passage, that she is intended to say—‘ He’s of a noble nature, and not timid; y serie ” being often used to express good blood, good birth, exalted quality. Ferdinand. The ditty does remember my drown’ father. This is no mortal business. Act I. Scene IT. Scene I.] Pros. What! I say: My foot my tutor ?—Put thy sword up, traitor ; Who mak’st a show, but dar’st not strike, thy con- science Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward ;° For I can here disarm thee with this stick, And make thy weapon drop. Mir. Beseech you, father ! Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments. Mir. Sir, have pity: I'll be his surety. Pros. Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. An advocate for an impostor? hush! Thou think’st there are 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. Mir. My affections Are, then, most humble: I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. Pros. [To Fer.) Come on; obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them, What! ACT SCENE I.—Another part of the Island. Enter Atonso, Srpastian, Antonio, GonzaLo, ADRIAN, Francisco, and others. Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause (So have we all) of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common: every day, some sailor’s wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,! Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. Alon. Prithee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o’er so. Seb. Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by-and-by it will strike. Gon. Sir,— Seb. One: tell. Gon. When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d, Comes to the entertainer— Seb. ha nf), ste ; - : o eee am : - » : o wa _ a - a 7 t E ; ; dered ppg De eee ere a ‘ « be Nercgnings 3 ok: ire fee , cee = hare \ cag. ee ' a" eal - «? ae hoen f 2 ; D5 Alan Spee) maker ‘ , em esa 4 r f ' g2 ! Sceny [.] When you should bring the plaster. Seb. Very well. Ant. And most chirurgeonly.'4 Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather! Ant. Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,— Ant. He'd sow’t with nettle-seed. Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king on’t, what would I do? Seb. ’Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Gon. TV the commonwealth'® I would by con- traries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate ; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth,'® vineyard, none ; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation ; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure ; No sovereignty ;— Seb. Yet he would be king on’t. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common Nature should pro- duce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but Nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison,!’ all abundance, To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying ’mong his subjects ? Ant. None, man; all idle; sluts and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. Seb. *Save his majesty ! Ant. Long live Gonzalo! Gon. And,—do you mark me, sir? Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. Gon. Ido well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. *Twas you we laughed at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow was there given! Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. (14) Chirurgeonly. Surgeon-like. French, chirurgien. (15) I’ the commonwealth, &c. There is a remarkably parallel passage to this speech in Florio’s translation of Montaigne’s Essays, a book belonging to Shakespeare, and containing his autograph. (16) Tilth. Used both for tillage and for tilled land. (17) Foison. Plenty, abundance. The word is repeated by Ceres, Act iv., se. 1. (18) Playing solemn music. This is in accordance with the origi- nal stage direction, and with Ariel’s “playing and singing” when he enters with Ferdinand in the previous scene. THE TEMPEST. 19 Enter Arieu (invisible) playing solemn music."® Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.'® Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy ? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep except Aton., Seb., and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin’d to do so. Seb. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. Ant. We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. Alon. Thank you.u—Wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Hait Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them ! Ant. It is the quality o’ the climate. Seb. Why Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos’d to sleep. Ant. Nor I: my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent ; They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian ?—Oh, what might ?—No more :— And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, Whatthoushouldstbe. Theoccasionspeaksthee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. Seb. What, art thou waking ? Ant. Do you not hear me speak ? Seb. I do; and surely, It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say ? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou let’st thy fortune sleep,—die, rather ; wink’st Whiles thou art waking. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly : There’s meaning in thy snores. Ant. Iam more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me ;”° which to do, Trebles thee o’er. Seb. Well; I am standing water. Ant. Tl teach you how to flow. Seb. Do so: to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. Oh, (19) Bat-fowling. Catching birds at night by beating the bushes, to make them fly towards the light of torches or fires prepared for the purpose. ; (20) If heed me. For “If you heed me;” the previous “you” is understood, Shakespeare often making a word do double service in asentence. By “trebles thee o’er,” Antonio means, ‘ will make thee thrice as great as thou wert before;’ and then he goes on to humour Sebastian’s metaphor of being as inactive as “standing water,” by telling him he “will teach him how to flow” on to greatness, and saying that his hearer unconsciously symbolises the intended proposal while mocking it. ee 20 THE TEMPEST. [Acr II. If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear, or sloth. Seb. Prithee, say on: The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield. Ant. Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance,” this (Who shall be of as little memory, When he is earth’d) hath here almost persuaded (For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade) the king his son’s alive,— *Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d, _As he that sleeps here swims. Seb. I have no hope That he’s undrown’d. Ant. Oh, out of that ‘no hope’ What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me, That Ferdinand is drown’d ? Seb. He’s gone. Ant. Then, tell me, Who’s the next heir of Naples? Seb. Claribel. Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post,— The man i’ the moon’s too slow,—till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she from whom” We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again ;” And, by that destiny, to perform an act, Whereof what’s past is prologue ; what: to come, In yours and my discharge. Seb. What stuff is this! How say you ? ’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s Queen of Tunis ; So is she heir of Naples; *twixt which regions There is some space. Ant. A space whose every cubit Szems to cry out, “ How shall that Claribel Measure us back-to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake!” Say, this were death That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be, that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply, and unnecessarily, As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough” of as deep chat. Oh, that you bore (21) This lord of weak remembrance. A parenthetical speech, the meaning of which is much involved; but its sense seems to be— ‘Though this lord, who, when he is buried, shall leave as little memory behind him as he himself now possesses, has almost per- suaded (for he has a spirit of persuasion that only professes to per- suade) the king his son’s alive, yet ’tis as impossible,’ &c. (22) She from whom. “Coming” is understood between “she” and “from.” Shakespeare’s style is full of this kind of ellipsis. He is so condensed a writer, that we have constantly to bear this in mind, while gathering the full sense of his concise passages. (23) Some cast again. In the poet’s way of combining varied senses in one expression, he here uses the word in its meaning of cast up after swallowing, of cast ashore, of cast (or thrown) in wrestling, and of cast for a part ina play. The latter is confirmed by the words “to perform an act,” “ prologue,” and “ discharge.” The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me? Seb. Methinks, I do. Ant. And how does your content Tender your own good fortune ? Seb. I remember, You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant. True: And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater™ than before. My brother’s servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men, Seb. But, for your conscience,— Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe,* *T would put me to my slipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they,” And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,— No better than the earth he les upon, _ If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead,— Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion” as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. Seb. Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent : as thou got’st Milan, T’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay’st ; And I, the king, shall love thee. Ant. Draw together : And when I rear my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo. Seb. Oh, but one word. [They talk apart. Music. Re-enter ARIEL, invisible. Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,— For else his project dies,—to keep-thee living. [Sings in Gonzalo’s ear. While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey’d conspiracy t His time doth take. Tf of life you keep a care, oe Shake off slumber, and beware : y Awake ! awake ! ; Then let us both be sudden. Now, good angels, [They wake. Ant. Gon. Preserve the king! The commentators, who differ about the sense in which some of Shakespeare’s terms are to be taken, seldom seem to perceive his large-minded way of assembling several significances in one con- centrated word. (24) Chough. A sea-side crow; a bird with a chattering note. (25) Feater. More well-fittedly ; more neatly. (26) Kibe. A chilblain in the heel. . The word occurs again in “Hamlet :”—“‘The toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.” (27) Candied be they. Possibly a play on the word “candid” may lurk here; and the meaning seems to be—‘ Twenty consciences might be candied hard, and melt into softness again, ere they would - trouble or soften me.’ (28) Suggestion. Often used for temptation, incitement to wrong. Here it means not only this, but prompting to bear any amount of false witness. ee _e Scenz II. | Alon. Why, how now! ho, awake!—Why are you drawn ?*? Wherefore this ghastly looking ? Gon. What’s the matter ? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions: did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. I heard nothing. Ant. Oh, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Heard you this, Gonzalo? Alon. THE TEMPEST. 21 Alon. Lead away. [BHzit with the others. Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have done: So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [ Eait. ‘ SCENE II.—Another part of the Island. A noise of Enter Caripan with a burden of wood. thunder heard. Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shaked you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open’d, I saw their weapons drawn :—there was a noise, That’s verity. *Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let’s make farther search For my poor son. Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts ! For he is, sure, i the island. (29) Why are you drawn? Wherefore are your swords drawn ? (30) Inch-meal. From the Saxon mel, a portion. Used (as we now say, “ piecemeal’’) for an inch at a time. (31) Urchin-shows. See Note 52, Acti. I ee 3 {rinculo. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head. Act II. Scene II. By inch-meal® a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But theyll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows,*' pitch me i’ the mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid ’em; but For every trifle are they set upon me: Sometime like apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after, bite me; then like hedgehogs, which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount Their pricks® at my footfall: sometime am I All wound“ with adders, who with cloven tongues (32) Moe. Spelt also “mow. To make mouths. (33) Pricks. The old word for prickles, or bristles. (34) All wound with. Wound round or encircled by. eo Do hiss me into madness.—Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat ; Perchance, he will not mind me. Enter Trincv.o. Twin. Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard® that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfals.— What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish- like smell; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John.*® A strange fish! Were I in England now (as once I was), and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man: any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit?’ to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o’ my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunder- bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is come again: my best way is to creep under his gaberdine ;* there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter SverHano, singing ; a bottle in his hand. Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die a-shore :— This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well, here’s my comfort. (Drinks. The master, the swabber,®? the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us car'd for Kate ; For she had a t>ngue with a tang, Would ery to a sailor, ‘Go hang!’ She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch: Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang ! This is a scurvy tune, too; but here’s my comfort. [ Drinks. Cal. Do not torment me: oh! Ste. What’s the matter? Have we devils here ? Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of Inde, ha? I have not ’scaped drowning, to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper*® a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Cal. The spirit torments me: oh! (35) Bombard. A huge leather drinking vessel. (36) Poor-John. A commen name for the fish called hake, when salted and dried. (37) Doit. A small coin, value the eighth part of a penny. Dutch, duyt. French, d@’hwit. (38) Gaberdine. A coarse, loose over-garment. (39) Swabber. The sweeper of a deck. (40) Proper. Comely, well-proportioned. (41) I know it by thy trembling. Those who were possessed by an evil spirit were supposed to tremble. 2 THE TEMPEST. {Acr IT. Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat’s-leather. Cal. Do not torment me, prithee: ’ll bring my wood home faster. Ste. He’s in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling:*' now Prosper works upon thee. Ste. Come on your ways: open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who’s your friend; open your chaps again. Trin. I should know that voice: it should be— but he is drowned, and these are devils. Oh! defend me. Ste. Four legs, and two voices,—a most delicate monster! His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come, —Amen!* J will pour some in thy other mouth. Trin. Stephano! Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. Trin. Stephano !—If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo ;—be not afeard,—thy good friend Trinculo. Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth. Tl pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed! How cam’st thou to be the siege of this moon-calf?** can he vent Trinculos ? Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder- stroke-—But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope, now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm over- blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf’s gaber- dine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano! two Neapolitans ’scaped ? Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant. Cal. [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: I will kneel to him. (42) Amen! his draught. (43) I have no long spoon. In allusion to the old proverb:— “He who eats with the north hath need of a long spoon.” We meet with it again in the “ Comedy of Errors,” iv. 3. (44) Siege of this moon-calf? “Siege” was often used for “seat; and “ moon-calf”’ is said to be a lumpish, shapeless mass, mentioned by Pliny, and made the subject of a poem by Drayton. Stephano’s hint to Caliban that he should finish WSS \ \ WS Sy SK i Scene [.| Ste. How didst thou ’scape? How cam’st thou hither? swear, by this bottle, how thou cam’st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved overboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. Cal. Vil swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly. Ste. Here; swear, then, how thou escapedst. Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, [ll be sworn. Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano! hast any more of this? Ste. The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague ? Cal. Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven ?® Ste. Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the moon, when time was. Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee: My mistress show’d me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush.*® Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. furnish it anon with new contents. Swear. Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster :—I afeard of him ?—A very weak monster. —The man i’ the moon!—A most poor credulous monster !—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! Cal. Ill show thee every fertile inch o’ the island ; And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god. Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster: when his god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle. Cal. Vl kiss thy foot: Pll swear myself thy subject. Ste. Come on, then; down, and swear. Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this I will THE TEMPEST. 23 puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,—— Ste. Come, kiss. Trin. But that the poor monster’s in drink. An abominable monster ! Cal. WVl1l show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries ; I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! Tl bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to’ make a wonder of a poor drunkard! Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow ; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ; Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset: I'll bring thee To clustering filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock.” Wilt thou go with me ? Ste. I prithee now, lead the way, without any more talking.—Trinculo, the king and all our com- pany else being drowned, we will inherit here.—[‘'o Cal.| Here; bear my bottle.—Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by-and-by again. Cal. [Sings drunkenly] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster ! Cal. No more dams I'll make for fish ; Nor fetch in firing At requiring ; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish: ’Ban, ’Ban, Ca—Caliban Has a new master :—Get a new man.’ Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom! hey- day, freedom ! Ste. Oh, brave monster! Lead the way. [| Hxeunt. ACT SCENE I.—Before Prosprro’s cell. Enter Ferpinanp, bearing a log. Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off: some kinds of base- ness Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task (45) Dropp’d from heaven? It is recorded that the Indians of the Island of St. Salvador, when first discovered, asked Columbus and his companions by signs whether they were not come down from heaven. (46) Thy dog, and thy bush. The man in the moon has been said to be “ Cain with his thorn-bush;”’ and an Italian once pointed out to the Editors the figure of a dog in the full moon. LEE Would be as heavy to me, as odious; but The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead, And makes my labours pleasures: oh, she is Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed ; And he’s composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work ; and says, such base- ness Had never like executor. I forget: (47) Young sea-mells from the rock. In the Folio this word is printed “scamels,” and has occasioned endless differences among the commentators; some of whom retain “scamels” in the text, even while owning that they do not comprehend what it means. When we find such obvious misprints (among scores and scores of others) in the Folio, as “ Barlet” for “martlet,’ “ Paconcies” for “pansies,” &e., we need hardly hesitate to suspect a similar error 24 THE TEMPEST. But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours; Most busy, least when I do it.} Enter Miranpa; and Prospero at a distance, unseen. Mir. Alas! now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin’d to pile. Pray, set it down,” and rest you: when this burns, *T will weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself: He’s safe for these three hours. Fer. Oh, most dear mistress ! The sun will set, before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. Mir. If you'll sit down, Ill bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that; Dll carry it to the pile. Fer. No, precious creature : T had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. Mir. 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. Pros. [Aside| Poor worm! thou art infected ; This visitation shows it. Mir. You look wearily. Fer. No, noble mistress ; ’tis fresh morning with me, When you are by at night. I do beseech you,— Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,— What is your name? Mir. Miranda.—Oh, my father ! I have broke your hest to say so. Fer. Admir’d Miranda ! Indeed, the top of admiration ;3 worth What’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey’d with best regard; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I liked several women; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d,' And put it to the foil: but you, oh, you! So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature’s best. here. We have th2 expression “haggards of the rock,” in “Much Ado,” iii. 1, where “haggards”’ mean untrained hawks; and this brings us to the probability that the word here means some kind of bird. In Chapman’s translation of Homer’s “Odyssey” (a book most likely well-known to Shakespeare), there is mention of the “sea-mew in her fishing flight,” and of men “ tumbled to sea, like sea-mews swam about;” therefore that was a sea-bird likely to present itself to our poet’s mind. The spelling of “scamels” is verynear to that of sea-mews, sea-malls, or sea-mells, which are said to be other forms of the same word. In more than one work of authority, young sea-birds have been affirmed to be delicate food. All these arguments appear to us conclusive in favour of the read- ing here adopted, and which was first proposed by Theobald. (1) Most busy, least when I do it. This passage appears in the Folio :—“ Most busie lest, when I doe it;’? and has been variously altered, Pope reading, ‘ Least busy when I do it;’ Theobald, ‘ Most busyless when I do it;’ Mr. Holt White, ‘Most busiest when I do it;’ Mr. Collier’s MS. Corrector, ‘Most busy,—blest when I do it ;’ and Mr. Staunton printing, ‘Most busy felt, when I do it,’ while suggesting, ‘ Most busy still, when I do it.’ The reading we have adopted is from the 2nd Folio of 1632, and we take its meaning to [Acr III. Mir. 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 skill-less of ; but, by my modesty (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 of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father’s precepts I therein do forget. Fer. I am, in my condition, A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king ; (I would, not so!) and would no more endure This wooden slavery, than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service ; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake, Am I this patient log-man. Mir. Do you love me? Fer. Oh, heaven! oh, earth! bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true ; if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else® i’ the world, Do love, prize, honour you. Mir. I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. Pros. [Aside] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between them ! Fer. Wherefore weep you? Mir. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling ; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning ! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, Pll die your maid: to be your fellow® You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no.7 Fer. My mistress, dearest ! And I thus humble ever. Mir. My husband, then? be (in Shakespeare’s elliptical style of sometimes making “‘it”’ re- fer to a plural noun) :—‘ These sweet thoughts refresh my labours, and make me most busy when I least work.’ (2) Pray, set it down. The “it” in this sentence affords an instance of Shakespeare’s way of making that word refer back to something named plurally. Here “it”? means one of those “logs” mentioned in the previous line. Pic Ss (3) Top of admiration. In his use of so small and insignificant a word as “top,” we have an instance of Shakespeare's way of giving dignity to slight and familiar expressions. “Top” here, and elsewhere in his plays, has the force of highest point, crowning pre-eminence. It is worthy of remark, too, how characteristic the entire speech is of Ferdinand, with his fervid imagination and generous promptitude of belief in good; forming an admirable counterpart to Miranda’s artless warmth of impulse. (4) Ow’d. See Note 63, Acti. (5) What else. For whatever else. m (6) Your fellow. Your equal, your chosen companion. : (7) Whether you will or no. This was formerly in use (and is so still, with those who write a slipshod style) for the more correct “whether you will or not.” SHI I~ PUN Wien O, , Ariel. Thon liest. % A Stephano Dolso? Take thou that. [Strikes him. fing Act III, Scene il. Scene IT. ] Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.® Mir. And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand thousand ! [Hxeunt Fer. and Mir. Pros. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surpris’d withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. Tl to my book; For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform Much business appertaining. [ Heit. SCENE Il.— (3) The line-grove which weather-fends your cell. ] To “weather-fend”. is to or linden. See Note 28 of Act iv. defend or protect from the weather. (4) Till your release ; that is, till you release them. (5) A touch. touched by. (6) That relish all as sharply, passion as they. Stopped thus, “passion ’”’ is a verb; and is often so used by Shakespeare, to mean feel acutely, emotionally, intensely. But some editors omit the comma after “sharply,” by which stopping, “passion ’’ would be- come a noun, and the very involved sense of the passage would be this:—‘ That relish passion all as sharply as they do.’ A perceptive sense, a susceptibility of being Act V. Scene I. Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury oo oo Pros. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves ; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets’ make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms ; that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid— Weak masters though ye be’—I have bedimm’d The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, And ’twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak With his own bolt: the strong-bas’d promontory Have I made shake; and by the spurs® pluck’d up The pine and cedar: graves, at my command, Have waked their sleepers ; oped, and let them forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure; and, when I have requir’d Some heavenly music,—which even now I do,— To work mine end upon their seases, that This airy charm is for, Pll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, Pll drown my book. [Solemn music. Re-enter Arte: after him Atonso, with a frantic gesture, attended by Gonzato; SEBasTian and Antonio in like manner, attended by Aprian and Francisco: they all enter the circle which PRosPERO had made, and there stand charmed ; which Prosrexo observing, speaks : A solemn air, and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! For you are spell-stopp’d.— Holy Gonzalo,'? honourable man, Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly" drops.—The charm dissolves apace ; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.—O good Gonzalo! My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him thou follow’st, I will pay thy graces There stand, (7) Green-sour ringlets. The greener circles on the grass that are supposed to mark where the fairies have danced round hand-in- hand; and which are believed to be thereby so soured that the sheep will not eat them. (8) By whose aid—weak masters though ye be. Prospero means that these inferior spirits (whose qualities he so poetically de- scribes) are sufficiently powerful to “aid’’ him as ministers, but would be weak as rulers. According to the proverbial saying, “Fire is a good servant, but a bad master.” (9) Spurs. The longest and largest roots of trees. _ (10) Holy Gonzalo. Shakespeare sometimes uses “holy” for righteous, virtuous, of good character and blameless life. (11) Fellowly. Sympathetic; full of fellow-feeling. (12) Remorse and nature; that is, pity and natural feeling, or affection. Shakespeare often uses “remorse” in this sense. We still employ the word thus, when we say “ without remorse,” or remorseless,” meaning without pity, or pitiless. But besides the older meaning of tenderness, pity, compassion, in the word “re- morse,” Shakespeare has here also blended with it the more modern acceptation of a sense of guilt, or regret for guilt. (13) On the bat's back I do fly after summer, merrily. There has been much commentatorial disquisition as to whether Ariel could fly after summer on a bat’s back,” when it is well known that the THE TEMPEST. [Acr V. Home, both in word and deed.—Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: Thy brother was a fartherer in the act; Thou art pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian.—Flesh and blood, You brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, Expell’d remorse and nature;'? who, with Sebas- tian,— Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,— Would here have killed your king; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art.—Their understanding Begins to swell; and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores, That now he foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me.—Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell :— [Hatt Ariel. ] I will discase me, and myself present, As I was sometime Milan.—Quickly, spirit ; Thou shalt ere long be free. ARIEL re-enters, singing, and helps to attire PRosPERO. Ari. Where the bee sucks, there suck J: In a 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."* Pros. Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee ; But yet thou shalt have freedom :—so, so, so,— To the king’s ship, invisible as thou art: There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain Being awake, enforce them to this place, And presently, I prithee. Art. I drink the air be*ore me," and return Or ere your pulse twice beat. [ Eat. Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amaze- ment, Inhabit here: some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country ! Pros. [Presenting himself | Behold, sir king, The wrongéd Duke of Milan, Prospero. For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ; bat is torpid in the winter! But to us it seems that “summer” here is an embodiment of that luxurious twilight heat after which the bat himself seems to be eagerly flitting, as he swiftly circles round and round of a warm evening. Fad (14) Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. That this is not mere poetic imagery on Shakespeare's part, there is confirmation pointed out by Holt White in “ Virgil,” and by Singer in Fairfax’s “Tasso,” book iv., stanza 18 :— “The goblins, fairies, fiends, and furies mad, Ranged in flowrie dales, and mountains hore, And under everie trembling leafe they sit.” (15) I drink the air before me. It would be difficult to parallel this little speech with one conveying an equal impression of swift motion. Shakespeare himself has matched it in his Puck’s “Tl put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes;” and, “I go, I go, look how I go; swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow,’’ where the words seem to dart out with the speed and light leaps of Robin Goodfellow himself. Even in such minute points as this, how emi- nently characteristic Shakespeare is. Examine severally Ariel’s, Puck's, and an ordinary mortal’s mode of describing a rapid rider; where Travers, in the opening of “2 Henry IV.,”’ says, “ He seem’d in running to devour the way.” Scene I.] And to thee and thy company, I bid A hearty welcome. Alon. Whe’r!® thou be’st he, or no, Or some enchanted trifle’? to abuse me, As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, Th’ affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness held me. This must crave— An if this be at all—a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign; and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs.—But how should Prospero Be living, and be here ? Pros. First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot Be measur’d, or confin’d. Gon. Whether this be, Or be not, I'll not swear. Pros. You do yet taste Some subtilties'® 0’ the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain.—Welcome, my friends all :— [Aside to Seb. and Ant.| But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, IT here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you, And justify you traitors: at this time I will tell no tales. Seb. [Aside] The devil speaks in him. Pros. No.— For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault,—all of them ; and require My dukedom of thee,'? which, perforce, I know Thou must restore. Alon. If thou be’st Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation ; How thou hast met us here, who three hours since Were wreck’d upon this shore; where I have lost— How sharp the point of this remembrance is !— My dear son Ferdinand. Pros. I am woe for’t,”° sir. Alon. Irreparable is the loss; and Patience Says it is past her cure. Pros. I rather think, You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace, (16) Whe’r. An old abbreviated form of “whether.” (17) Some enchanted trifle. “Trifle” was sometimes used by writers of Shakespeare’s time for phantasm, or illusion. _ (18) Taste some subtilties. “‘Subtilties” was a name formerly given to certain dishes of quaint device, when our ancestors took delight in dragons, castles, and trees formed of sugar. Curious confectionery, and whimsical shapes in cookery, were a feature at great feasts; and we hear of “the red herring o’ horseback,” where the likeness of a rider galloping through a green field was represented in salad. Prospero figuratively uses the word “sub- tilties’’ for the strange magical devices of which he has given them a “taste,” or specimen. agers my dukedom of thee. Prospero here demands from Antonio the usurped Duchy of Milan, which his treachery had made feudatory to the crown of Naples; and which Alonso promises to release from all claim of sovereignty on his part, in the previous words, “Thy dukedom I resign.” (20) I am woe fort. -An old form of our present phrase, “I am sorry for it.” _ (21) The dear loss. Shakespeare here uses “dear” in its com- bined senses of dearly prized and direly felt. See Note 13, Act ii. (22) So much admire. “‘ Admire” was formerly used to express simply wonder, without its additional modern sense of wondering with approval. A pertinent example of this is cited by Dean Trench in his valuable little book, “A Select Glossary of English Words,” THE TEMPEST. 39 For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, And rest myself content. Alon. You the like loss ? Pros. As great to me, as late; and, stipportable To make the dear loss,”! have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you; for I Have lost my daughter. Alon. A daughter ? O heavens! that they were living both in Naples, The king and queen there! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter ? Pros. Inthis last tempest. I perceive, these lords At this encounter do so much admire,” That they devour their reason, and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath ; but, howsoe’er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain, That I am Prospero, and that very duke Which was thrust forth® of Milan; who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wreck’d, was landed, To be the Lord on’t. No more yet of this ; For ’tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; This cell’s my court: here have I few attendants, And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again, I will requite you with as good a thing ; At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much as me my dukedom. The entrance of the cell opens, and discovers Frerprynanp and Miranpa playing at chess. Mir. Sweet lord, you play me false. Fer. No, my dear’st love, I would not for the world. Mir. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,” And I would call it fair play. Alon. If this prove A vision” of the island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. &e., from Jeremy Taylor: “In man there is nothing admirable but his ignorance and weakness.” ? (23) That very duke which was thrust forth. “Which” used for “who.” (24) Yow should wrangle. To “wrangle” was a term in the game of tennis, to which there is allusion in that passage from Henry V. where he desires the ambassadors to tell the Dauphin— “He hath made a match with such a wrangler. That all the courts of France shall be disturb’d With chases.” Used thus, to “wrangle” means to run back, and yet not cease to contend. “ Wrangling” is also a term in logic, for disputation, altercation. In the playful dissension between the lovers here, over their game of chess, Miranda tells Ferdinand that the stake shall be merely “kingdoms,” instead of his gaged “world,” and that he might dispute or contend as unfairly as he chose, yet she would allow it to be “ fair play.” (25) If this prove a vision, fc. One of the commentators remark- ing that “the sense of this passage is not altogether clear,” and proposing to read “not” after “ prove,” we give what we take to be the meaning of the speech as it stands: ‘If this prove to be one of the many illusions I have beheld on this island, that which seems to be my living son will be thus again lost to me, as he was before by my believing him to be drowned.’ 40 THE TEMPEST. Seb. A most high miracle ! Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful: T have curs’d them without cause. [Kneels to Alon. Alon. Now, all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about ! Arise, and say how thou cam’st here. Mir. Oh, wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is! Oh, brave new world, That has such people in’t! Pros. Tis new to thee. Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou wast at play ? Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours : Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us, And brought us thus together ? Fer. 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. Alon. I am hers. But, oh! how oddly will it sound, that I Must ask my child forgiveness. Pros. There, sir, stop: Let us not burden our remembrances with A heaviness that’s gone. Gon. I have inly wept,” Or should have spoke ere this.—Look down, you ods, And ones couple drop a blessed crown ! For it is you that have chalk’d forth the way Which brought us hither. Alon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo! Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become kings of Naples? Oh! rejoice Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis; And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost ; Prospero, his dukedom In a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves When no man was his own.” Alon. [To Fer. and Mir.] Give me your hands: (26) I have inly wept. Shakespeare uses “inly’’ both as an adverb and an adjective. ere, as the former, it means inwardly, in my heart, in secret. (27) When no man was his own. When no man was rightly him- self, or had possession of his senses. In this speech, be it noted, is an instance of Shakespeare's way of making one word do multi- plied service in a continuous sentence: “found” before “a wife,” is also understood before “ his dukedom,” and before “ ourselves.”’ (28) Three glasses since. Here again Shakespeare marks the time of his drama; as also in Alonso’s twice mentioning “three hours” in the course of this scene. It has been observed that the unity of time is most rigidly observed in this play; and that from the very particular care he has taken to point out the circumstance, it would seem as if the poet wished to show the strict observers of the unities, that he could conform to established laws and rules as closely as the most pedantic among playwrights, when he chose, and when it suited his own dramatic purpose. (29) Yare. Here used for ready, prepared. (30) Conduct. Frequently used by Shakespeare for “ conductor.” [Aor V. Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy! Gon. Be it so: Amen! Re-enter Arter, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following. Oh, look! sir, look, sir! here are more of us. I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown.—Now, blasphemy, That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore ? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? Boats. The best news is, that we have safely ~ found Our king and company: the next, our ship— Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split— Is tight and yare,” and bravely rigg’d, as when We first put out to sea. Ari. [Aside to Pros.] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. Pros. [Aside to Ari.| My tricksy spirit! Alon. These are not natural events; strengthen From strange to stranger.—Say, how came you hither ? Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, Id strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, And—how we know not—all clapp’d under hatches, Where, but even now, with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awak’d; straightway, at liberty : Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good, and gallant ship ; our master Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them, And were brought moping hither. Ari. [Aside to Pros.| Was’t well done ? Pros. [Aside to Ari.| Bravely, my diligence ! Thou shalt be free. Alon. This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod; And there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of: some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. Pros. Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on*! The strangeness of this business: at pick’d leisure, Which shall be shortly, single Pll resolve you (Which to you shall seem probable”) of every These happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful, they (31) Your mind with beating on, &c. “ Beating’’ has been illus- trated by citing the modern vulgarism, “still hammering at it ;”’ but Shakespeare has before in this play associated the word with the “mind.’? Both here and in the previous passage, ‘‘ A turn or two Tll walk, to still my beating mind,’ he seems to indicate (with his usual force of condensed epithet) that dull, throbbing action of a perplexed mind familiar to those who have been oppressed by troublous thought. . (32) Which to you shall seem probable. This, taken in connection with the context to which it is parenthetical, appears to mean, ‘I will alone and simply explain to you—which explanation shall then seem probable to you—these occurrences which now seem strange.’ Shakespeare often uses “single” in the sense of “simple,’’ “plain.” In an early speech of Ferdinand’s (Acti. se. ii.) it is so used, where he replies (to Prospero’s inquiry—“ What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?’’), “A single thing, as I am now,’ &c. He means that if his father still lived to hear him speak, he is but a simple individual; whereas, if his father be dead, he himself would then be King of Naples. Scene [.] And think of each thing well.—} Aside to Ari.] Come hither, spirit : Set Caliban and his companions free ; Unite the spell.—[Hait Ariel.] How fares my gracious sir ? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads, that you remember not. Re-enter Arrer, driving in Catrean, STEPHANO, and Trincu1o, im their stolen apparel. Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no THE TEMPEST. Al Seb. Ha, ha! What things are these, my lord Antonio ? Will money buy them? Ant. Very like; one of them Is a plain fish,** and, no doubt, marketable. Pros. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true.** This mis-shapen knave— His mother was a witch ; and one so strong® That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command, without her power.** Alonso. Prospero. As in his shape. man take for himself; for all is but fortune.—Coragio! bully-monster, coragio! Trm. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here’s a goodly sight. Cal. O Setebos! these be brave spirits, indeed. How fine my master is! Iam afraid He will chastise me. (33) One of them is a plain fish; that is, plainly, or evidently, a fish. We find that Caliban strikes those who see him at first sight .as being wonderfully like a fish. Vide Trinculo’s commencing speech, Act ii., s. 2. (34) True. Sometimes used for honest. “ Badges” is in allusion to the * trumpery ”’ they have stolen, and now wear. (35) A witch ; and one so strong, &c. “ Strong” was a commonly- applied term to wretched old women when witchcraft was believed N \ ti This is a strange thing as e’er I looked upon. [Pointing to Caliban. He is as disproportion’d in his manners, Act V. Scene I. These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil— For he’s a bastard one—had plotted with them To take my life: two of these fellows you Must know, and own; this thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine. Cal. I shall be pinch’d to death. Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler ? Seb. He is drunk now: where had he wine? in. And it was supposed that one of the privileges of witches was to be able to pull down the moon by enchantment. (36) Deal in her command, without her power. Shakespeare some- times uses “without” in the sense of “ beyond;” therefore the meaning of this line seems to be ‘deal in the moon’s command, or influences, beyond her (the moon’s) own power to use it un- . swayed by witchcraft.’ Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should the Find this oad liquor that hath gilded them ? *’— How cam’st thou in this pickle ?* Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. Seb. Why, how now, Stephano ! Ste. Oh, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. Pros. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah ? Ste. Ishould have been a sore one, then. Alon. This is a strange thing as e’er® I looked upon. [Pointing to Caliban. Pros. He is as disproportion’d in his manners, As in his shape.—Go, sirrah, to my cell ; Take with you your companions: as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, And worship this dull fool! Pros. Go to; away! Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. A2 THE TEMPEST. [Acr V. Seb. Or stols it, rather. [Hxeunt Cal., Ste., and Trin. Pros. Sir, I invite your Highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night; which, part of it, Pll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away: the story of my life, And the particular accidents gone by, Since I came to this isle: and in the morn [ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial ; Of these our dear-belovéd solemnis’d ; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. Alon. I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. Pros. I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, And sail so expeditious, that shall catch Your royal fleet far off.—[Aside to Ari.] My Ariel,— chick,— That is thy charge: then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well!—Please you, draw near. | Kxeunt. EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. Now my charms are all o’erthrown, And what strength I have’s mine own,— Which is most faint: now, ’tis true, I must be here confin’d by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got, And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell In this bare island, by your spell; But release me from my bands*° With the help of your good hands. (37) Grand liquor that hath gilded them. “Gilded” was an old cant term for being drunk; and there is moreover an allu- sion to the alchymist’s elixir, which was a preparation of gold. (38) In this pickle. “Pickle,” in the question here, is used in the Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ; And my ending is despair, Unless I be reliev’d by prayer ; Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon’d be, Let your indulgence set me free. sense of “mess ;” in the answer, in the sense of brine, or preserving meat from being fly-blown. (39) This is a strange thing as eer, &c. An old form of the phrase we at present use:—‘* This is as strange a thing as e’er,” &c. (40) Release me from m “bonds ;” bands. “ Bands” was formerly used for and here the rhyme demands that form. = il \ (ii (com <(l ent I = \\ INK | HUTT a a _ \\ : Ta li Wen |W My lt il Mt tl e—_ INGE AR ete L eles et Sie eee ; MUU i DTT SVS Meh RS cy tli hi \ wl i 7 I Wh mu | | I SN \ Nl Wi : aa amu 4) IF; | ‘| nil | / onl i cj Zs) LABIAUSO , Lill | _ \—) FR TH DRAMATIS PERSON &. —+>+—- Duke or Mian, father to Srinvia. Antonio, father to Prorsrvs. eae the Two Gentlemen. ALENTINE, Txurio, a foolish rival to VALENTINE. Kextamovr, agent for Sizvia in her escape. SPEED, servant to VALENTINE. Launcr, clownish servant to Prorrus. PantTurino, servant to ANTONIO. Host, where Jutia lodges. Outlaws, with VALENTINE. Sitvia, daughter to the Duke, beloved of VaLenrTIne. Jutta, beloved of Proreus. Lucetta, her waiting-woman. Servants, Musicians. Scene—Sometimes in Verona ; sometimes in Milan , and on the frontiers of Mantua. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,’ AS GD ie Te SCENE I.—Verona. An open place in the city. Enter VALENTINE and Proteus. Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus :* Home-keeping youths have ever homely 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 world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardis’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. Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu ! Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply see’st Some rare note-worthy 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 bead’s-man,’* Valentine. Val. And on a love-book pray for my success ? Pro. Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee. (1) This play was first printed in the 1623 Folio; and is supposed by Malone to have been written somewhere about the year 1591. From its internal evidence of style; its youthful exuberance of romance, of prodigal friendship, of extemporaneous falling in love; its robbers, its adventures, its sudden vicissitudes of story, there can be little doubt of “Taz Two GENTLEMEN oF VERONA” having been one of Shakespeare’s earliest productions. There has been traced considerable resemblance between portions of its plot and an episode (Felismena) in a Spanish romance (“Diana’’) translated into English early enough to have met Shakespeare’s eye in manu- script, although not published until 1598. As the original romance was very popular in its own country, it is not impossible that some particulars of its narrative may have reached England, and have become known to Shakespeare when quite a lad; and as he was of those who, once hearing points of a story, make them their own, so he may have conceived this play—even though he may not have written it out—before he left Stratford for London. This would be an argument in favour of a cherished theory of ours, that Shake- speare had certain early plays of his in his head, if not in actual manuscript, when he first went up to town, a young fellow of two- and-twenty, in the year 1586. Val. That’s on some shallow story of deep love, How young Leander cross’d the Hellespont. Pro. That’s a deep story of a deeper love ; For he was more than over shoes in love. Val. *Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. Pro. Over the boots! nay, give me not the boots.’ Val. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. Pro. What? Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans ; Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment’s mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights : If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain ; If lost, why then a grievous labour won ; However,° but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquishéd. Pro. So, by your cireumstance,® you call me fool. Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove. Pro. ’Tis love you cavil at: Iam not Love. Val. Love is your master, for he masters you: And he that is so yokéd by a fool, Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. (2) Proteus. This name is throughout spelt Protheus in the Folio; but it was not unusual formerly to introduce a superfluous h into certain names, as Anthony for Antony. To the fickle, un- stable, changeable character thus designated, we have always felt a certain propriety in the poet’s assigning the name of Proteus; a sea-deity, whose power of changing his shape has become pro- verbial as a type of changeableness. : (3) Bead’s-man. One who prays on behalf of another; bead, in Anglo-Saxon, meaning a prayer. ‘The strung or linked grains or small balls, sometimes called a chaplet or rosary, used in the Catholic Church for keeping count when repeating an appointed number of prayers, came to be called ‘beads;’ and the act—‘ telling one’s beads” Hence the designation of the common ornament known familiarly as ‘ beads.’ (4) Give me not the boots. A proverbial expression equivalent to ‘Don't mock me. “It boots thee not,’ means ‘it avails thee not,’ ‘is of no advantage to thee.’ | (5) However. Elliptically used for ‘however resulting, whether “won” or “ lost.” ; (6) By your cirewmstance. In the first line used for argumentative statement; in the second, for actual state or condition. 46 Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker’ dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all. Val. And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turned to folly; blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes. But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee, Thou art a votary to fond desire ? Once more adieu! my father at the road Expects my coming, there to see me shipp’d. Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. To Milan® let me hear from thee by letters, Of thy success in love, and what news else Betideth here in absence of thy friend ; And I likewise will visit thee with mine. Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan! Val. As much to you at home! and go, farewell. + | Hatt. Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love: He leaves his friends to dignify them more ; I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos’d me ; Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at naught ; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought. Enter Sprxp. Speed. Sir Proteus, save you! master ? Saw you my Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan. Speed. Twenty to one, then, he is shipp’d already, And I have play’d the sheep? in losing him. Pro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be awhile away. Speed. You conclude that my master is a shep- herd, then, and I a sheep ? Pro. Ido. Speed. Why, then, my horns are his horns, | whether I wake or sleep. Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. Speed. This proves me still a sheep. Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. Pro. It shall go hard but ’ll prove it by another. Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore I am no sheep. Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep. (7) Canker. A noxious creature that infests flowers, and destroys their tenderest _buds, Shakespeare has several allusions to it ; none more beautiful than the one in “King J. ohn,”’ where Constance, thinking of her boy’s rosy cheek, figuratively says—“ Now will canker sorrow eat my bud,” &e. (8) To Milan. Some editions alter this to “At Milan;” but the line implies— Let me hear from thee by letters sent to Milan.’ i THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. [Acr I. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry “baa.” Pro. But, dost thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia ? ° Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour. Pro. Here’s too small a pasture for such store of muttons, Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best tether her. Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: *twere best pound you. ; Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter. Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound,—a pinfold. Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over "Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover. Pro. But what said she? [Speed nods.] Did she nod ? Speed. I,!° Pro. Nod, 1; why that’s noddy. Speed. You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod ; and you ask me if she did nod; and I say, I. Pro. And that set together, is—noddy. Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains. Pro. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter. : Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you. ; Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me ? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly ; having nothing but the word “ noddy” for my pains. Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse. Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: what said she ? Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered. Pro, Well, sir, here is for your pains. him money.| What said she ? Speed. Truly, sir, I think you’ll hardly win her. Pro. Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her ? Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she’ll prove as hard to you in telling your mind.!! Give her no token but stones; for she’s as hard as steel. Pro. What, said she nothing ? Speed. No, not so much as “Take this for thy pains.” To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned me;'” in requital whereof, henceforth [Giving (9) Sheep. Pronounced ‘ship’ in Warwickshire and some other English counties. (10) I. The mode in which ‘ay’ was formerly often written and printed. This explains the quibble here. (11) In telling your mind. Meaning, ‘When you tell her your mind.’ (12) Testerned me. That is, ‘given me sixpence, or a tester;’ originally called a testern, from its being a French coin and bearing Scene IT.| carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, P’Il commend you to my master. Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck, Which cannot perish having thee aboard, Being destin’d to a drier death on shore. I must go send some better messenger : I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, Receiving them from such a worthless post. (Hz. SPEED. [ Heit. SCENE Il.—Verona. The garden of Juuza’s house. Enter Jutta and Lucerta. Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love ? Ine. Ay, madam; .so you stumble not unheed- fully. Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle!’ encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love ? Inc. Please you repeat their names, I'll show my mind According to my shallow simple skill. Jul. What think’st thou of the fair Sir Egla- mour Pl# Ine. As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine; But, were I you, he never should be mine. Jul. What think’st thou of the rich Mercatio ? Tuc. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so. Jul. What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus ? Ine. Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us! Jul. How now! what means this passion at his name ? Inc. Pardon, dear madam: ’tis a passing shame That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure! thus on lovely gentlemen. Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest ? Inc. Then thus,—of many good I think him best. Jul. Your reason ? Ine. T have no other but a woman’s reason ; I think him so, because I think him so. Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him ? Inc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov’d me. Ine. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small. Ine. Fire’ that’s closest kept burns most of all. Jul. They do not love that do not show their love. a head, teste, or téte. It is worthy of remark, that Speed’s flippancy exceeds the licensed pertness of a jester, and degenerates into im- pertinence when speaking with Proteus; thus subtly conveying the dramatist’s intention in the character itself. Had Proteus not been the mean, unworthy man he is, as gentleman and lover, Speed had not dared to twit him so broadly with his niggard and reluctant recompence, or to speak in such free terms of the lady Proteus addresses. = (13) Parle. Talk; from French parler We have still a form of the word in ‘parley.’ (14) Sir Eglamour. The gentleman here alluded tois, of course, not the same with his namesake whoappears ina subsequent part of the play. We are to suppose the one a Veronese, the other a Milanese. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Aq Ne: Oh, they love least that let men know their ove. Jul. I would I knew his mind. Ic. Peruse this paper, madam. Jul. [Reads] “To Julia.”—Say, from whom ? Inc. That the contents will show. Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee ? Ime. Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. He would have given it you; but I, being in the way, Did in eee name receive it : pardon the fault, I pray. Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker ! Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire against my youth ? Now, trust me, *tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place. There, take the paper: see it be return’d; Or else return no more into my sight. Ine. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. Jul. Will you be gone? Lue. That you may ruminate. [ Heit. Jul. And yet Lwould I had o’erlook’d the letter: It were a shame to call her back again, And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. What fool is she,'® that knows I am a maid, And would not force the letter to my view ! Since maids, in modesty, say “ No” to that Which they would have the profterer construe, “ Ay.” Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod. How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, When willingly I would have had her here ! How angerly I taught my brow to frown, When inward joy enfore’d my heart to smile ! My penance is to call Lucetta back, And ask remission for my folly past.— What, ho! Lucetta! Re-enter Lucrerta. [Gives a letter. Ince. What would your ladyship ? Jul. Is it near dinner-time ? Ine. I would it were ; That you might kill your stomach” on your meat, And not upon your maid. Jul. What is that you took up so gingerly ? Inc. Nothing. Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then ? Iuc. To take a paper up that I let fall. Jul. And is that paper nothing ? LIne. ~ Nothing concerning me. Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. (15) Censure. This word was formerly often used without in- volving blame or ill-opinion; it merely signified to judge or criticise. (16) Fire. Here pronounced as a dissyllable. It was used either thus or monosyllabically at the pleasure of former writers, ac- cording as the need of their rhythm demanded. (17) Broker. Used for a match-maker, a go-between; and some- times with the utmost degradation and infamy attaching to such agents. (18) What fool is she. A form of phraseology formerly used, where we should now say—* What a fool is she.’ (19) Stomach. Here used in the combined sense of ‘anger’ and ‘hunger.’ 48 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. Inc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. Give me a note: your ladyship can set.” Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible. Best sing it to the tune of “ Light 0’ love.” ”! Tue. Tt is too heavy for so ight a tune. Jul. Heavy! belike it hath some burden, then ? Inc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it. Jul. And why not you? Tuc. I cannot reach so high. Jul. Let’s see your song. [Taking the letter.| How now, minion ! Inc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out : And yet methinks I do not like this tune. Jul. You do not? Lue. No, madam ; it is too sharp. Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. luc. Nay, now you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: ” There wanteth but a mean to fill your song. Jul. The mean is drown’d with your unruly base. Tuc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil™ with protestation !—[ Tears the letter. Go get you gone, and let the papers lie: You would be fingering them, to anger me. Ine. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas’d To be so anger’d with another letter. [ Beit. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger’d with the same ! 4 Oh, 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 ! Tl kiss each several 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, 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. (20) Set. Said, in the sense of setting words to music; taken, in the sense of setting store by, prizing, or valuing. (21) Light o’ Love. The name of a then popular song; and more than once alluded to by Shakespeare. (22) Descant. A musical term, signifying what we now call ‘a variation.’ By “‘a mean,” Lucetta intends to say a tenor voice; and she afterwards plays on the word “ base,” which applies to a voice of low register, and to a period in the game called ‘ prison- base,’ when one player runs, challenging another to pursue. This introduction of quibbles upon musical terms, shows that they were not unfamiliar to the general audience; while the indication that, among other accomplishments, Julia was sufficient mistress of musical composition to set verses to music, gives evidence of the state of cultivation of the art by ladies at that time. (23) Coil. Turmoil, uproar; in familiar parlance, fuss. (24) Nay, would I were so anger’'d with the same! One of the best modern editors thinks this should form part of Lucetta’s speech ; adding—“In the mouth of her mistress it seems senseless and absurd.” But is it not natural that Julia, overhearing Lucetta’s parting muttered fling, should reply by a confession, the moment she is alone, that she would fain be so angered (that is, pre- [Acr I. 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, here in one line is his name twice writ,-— “Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia :”—that I'll tear away ; And yet I will not, sith so prettily He couples it to his complaining names. Thus will I fold them one upon another : Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. Re-enter Lucetta. Tuc. Madam, Dinner is ready, and your father stays. Jul. Well, let us go. Lue. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here ? ; Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. Ine. Nay, Iwas taken up for laying them down: Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. Jul. I see you have a month’s mind”* to them. Inc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you See ; I see things too, although you judge I wink.” Jul. Come, come ; will’t please you go? [| Hxeunt. SCENE IiI.—Verrona. A room in Anronto’s house. Enter Antonio and Pantutino. Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad” talk was that Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister ? Pan. *Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him? Pan. He wonder’d that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out : Some to the wars, to try their fortune there ; Some to discover islands far away ; Some to the studious universities. For any, or for all these exercises, He said that Proteus your son was meet, tendedly) by the very same letter which she soon flies to, picks up, and eagerly reads? We can fancy her, after this confession, coyly eyeing the torn letter for a few seconds, then—with a shy, furtive glance around, lest she be observed—speeding to the spot where it lies, gathering up the fragments, devouring their contents, and pressing the “loving words”’ to her lips and bosom. Without this line as its introduction, the speech would come abruptly; and there would be nothing to explain that Julia’s previous aversion was assumed. (25) For catching cold. An elliptical mode of expressing, ‘for fear of catching cold,’ ‘ (26) A month’s mind. This expression, which passed into familiar use as signifying an earnest wish or longing for anything, is said to have originated in a much more solemn application,—the periodical celebration of mass for the souls of deceased persons, called ‘a month's mind.’ It probably arose from the strong yearning and devout desire supposed to possess those who offered these obsequial observances on behalf of departed friends. (27) Wink. Shakespeare almost always uses this word to express closing the eyes to the exclusion of sight. (28) Sad. Serious, sedate, grave. Wn = i ae SS Zhe AE ‘ Hl i" Ht Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan! Valentine. As much to youat home! and so, farewell. Act I. Scene I. EEO a re a eS s ‘sisted on, or pointed out. Until his epithets are duly weighed and Scenz IIT.] THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 5] And did request me to importune you To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment ” to his age, In having known no travel in his youth. Ant. Nor need’st thou much importune me to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have consider’d well his loss of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tried and tutor’d in the world: Experience is by industry achiev’d, And perfected by the swift course of time. Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him ? Pan. I think your lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the emperor in his royal court.” Ant. I know it well. Pan. °*Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither : There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis’d: And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known. Even with the speediest expedition I will dispatch him to the emperor’s court. Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- phonso, With other gentlemen of good esteem, Are journeying to salute the emperor, And to commend their service to his will. Ant. Good eompany; with them shall Proteus go: And,—in good time :*—now will we break with him. Enter Prorevs. Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart ; Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn. Oh, that our fathers would applaud our loves, To seal our happiness with their consents ! Oh, heavenly Julia ! Ant. How now! what letter are you reading there ? | Pro. May’t please your lordship, ’tis a word or | two (29) Impeachment.’ Used here in the sense of imputation, ground of reproach; and in the sense of hindrance, drawback, detriment, as in the French word, empéchement. Shakespeare’s felicity in em- ploying words that bear varied senses can hardly be too much in- examined in all their relations to the context, their excellence is hard sufficiently estimated ; and the more they are studied, appreciated, and adopted, the more will be produced largely good effect upon English style. (30) The emperor in his royal court. Some of the early German Of commendations sent from Valentine, Deliver’d by a friend that came from hin. Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he writes, How happily he lives, how well belov’d, And daily gracéd by the emperor ; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish ? Pro. As one relying on your lordship’s will, And not depending on his friendly wish. Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish. Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed ; For what I will, I will, and there an end. T 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. Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided : Please you, deliberate a day or two. Ant. Look, what thou want’st shall be sent after thee: No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go.— Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ’d To hasten on his expedition. [Exeunt Ant. and Pan. Pro. 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 of mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against my love. Oh, how this spring of love resembleth * The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by-and-by a cloud takes all away! Re-enter PANTHINO. Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go. Pro. Why, this it is,—my heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answers, No. | Exeunt. emperors held their court at Milan, as the capital of their Italian dominions; while the Dukes of Milan were not then sovereign princes, but merely viceroys under the imperial sway. (31) In good time. Appositely; in time fitted to the purpose. Equivalent to the French phrase, dpropos. The father seeing his son approach, means to say—‘ Here he comes, just opportunely ; and I will break the matter to him at once.’ , (32) Like exhibition. Similar allowance of money. “ Exhibition” is still used in the universities for a stipend. (33) Resembleth. Pronounced here as a four syllable word. UNIVERSITY OF HLLINOIS LIBRARY ‘AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 52 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. AG eLie SCENE I.—Miman. A room wm the Duxn’s palace. Enter VALENTINE and SPEED. Sir, your glove. Speed. Not mine; my gloves are on. Val. Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.! Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it’s mine.— Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Ah, Silvia, Silvia ! Speed [calling]. Madam Silvia, Madam Silvia! Val. How now, sirrah! Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her ? Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook. Val. Well, you’ll still be too forward. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. Val. Go to, sir. Tell me, do you know Madam Sylvia ? Speed. She that your worship loves? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love? Speed. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, like a malcontent; to relish a love song, like a robin- redbreast ; to walk alone, like one that had the pesti- lence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A BC; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes diet;? to watch, like one that fears robbing ; to speak puling,' like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money ; and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. They are all perceived without‘ ye. Val. Without me! they cannot. Speed. Without you! nay, that’s certain; for, without you were so simple, none else would:* but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and. shine through you like the water in a vial, that not an eye that sees you but isa physician to comment on your malady. Val. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Sylvia? (1) But one. Speed quibbles on the words “‘on’’ and “one,”’ which were formerly sounded alike ; and sometimes even written so. (2) Fakes diet. Observes a regimen for the recovery of health. (3) Speak puling. Talk in a whining voice, or whimperingly. Hallowmas is a name for the feast of All-Hallows, or All-Saints, the 1st November; All-Souls being on the 2nd; at which period it was a custom in the olden time for beggars to go about from house to house collecting alms, in return for which bounty they under- took to pray for the souls of the donors’ departed friends. (4) Without. The word is played on here in its various sense of ‘outside,’ of ‘ being absent,’ and of ‘ unless.’ (5) None else would. Johnson explains this to mean, ‘none else would be so simple.’ But does it not rather mean, ‘unless you Speed. She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper ? Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet knowest her not ? Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir? Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. Val. What dost thou know ? Speed. That she is not so fair as (of you) well favoured. Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite. Speed. 'That’s because the one is painted, and the other out of all count. Val. How painted? and how out of count ? Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man ’counts of her beauty. Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty.® Speed. Younever saw her since she was deformed. * Val. How long hath she been deformed ? Speed. ver since you loved her. Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful. Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. Val. Why? Speed. Because Love is blind. Oh, that you had mine eyes ; or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered ?7 Val. What should I see then ? Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing deformity ; for he, being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.® Val. Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for last morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed. I thank you, you swinged me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set;° so your affection would cease. Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. Speed. And have you? | were so simple as to let your love-tokens exteriorly appear, no one would perceive them but myself?’ (6) Account of her beauty. Appreciate, esteem, value her beauty. (7) Ungartered. A carelessness in attire much affected by ena- moured swains in Shakespeare’s time ; and playfully satirised here, as in “As You Like It,”’ iii. 2. (8) Cannot see to put on your hose. It should seem that Sir Valen- tine has fallen into the lover-like ill-adjustment of apparel which calls forth this gibe from his serving-man, as it is probable that the word ‘ properly’ must be understood after “ hose.’” (9) Set. The punning Speed uses the word here in its sense of ‘seated’ (as opposed to “stand’’ in the preceding speech) and of being fixed or attached firmly; as we say ‘set your affections upon,’ Sceng I. ] Val. I have. Speed. Are they not lamely writ ? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them.— Peace! here she comes. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Julia. Lucetta. Enter Sruvia. Speed. [Aside] Oh, excellent motion !'° Oh, exceeding puppet! Now will he interpret to her. ‘set your heart upon.’ The concluding words, “so your affection would cease,’ confirm this; as, while they seem to predict the extinction of Valentine’s love, they imply only cessation from moving. (10) Motion. The name given to a puppet-show, and to its puppets. The showman was called ‘the interpreter.’ Speed 53 Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good- morrows. Speed. [Aside] Oh, give ye good even! here’s a million of manners. ee Ss —S TNS ryt eae iL I would I knew his mind. Peruse this paper, madam. Act I. Scene Il. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant,!! to you two thousand. ; Speed. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives it him. seeing the lady approach, his master advance, and their mutual amenities in meeting, alludes to her as a well-dressed figure, a doll, and to his master as the one who will supply her with speech by opening the dialogue. j ; (11) Servant. A name formerly given to a lady’s admirers or suitors. 54 Val. As you enjoin’d me, I have writ your letter Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ; Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship. [Gives a letter. Si. I thank you, gentle servant: *tis very clerkly '? done. Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; For, being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully. Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains ? Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, Please you command, a thousand times as much: And yet,— Su. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; And yet I will not name it; and yet I care not ;— And yet take this again—and yet I thank you, Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. Speed. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another yet. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not like it ? Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly '3 writ; But since unwillingly, take them again ; Nay, take them. [Gives back the letter. Val. Madam, they are for you. Sil. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request; But I will none of them ; they are for you: I would have had them writ more movingly. Val. Please you, Pll write your ladyship another. Sil. And when it’s writ, for my sake read it over: And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. Val. If it please me, madam! what then ? Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour : And so, good morrow, servant. [ Hatt. Speed. Oh, jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man’s face, or a weathercock on a steeple ! My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. Oh, excellent device! was there ever heard a better, That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter ? Val. How now, sir! what, are you reasoning with yourself ? Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; the reason. Val. To do what? Speed. To be a spokesman from Madam Gilvia. Val. To whom? Speed. To yourself: why, she woos you by a figure. Val. What figure ? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, she hath not writ to me. Speed. What need she, when she hath made *tis you that have (12) Clerkly. Like a scholar. (13) Quaintly. This fication than it does ingeniously. (14) Reasoning. coursing ; as ragionare in Italian. word formerly bore more varied signi- now. Here it means cleverly, dexterously, THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Sometimes used for talking, conversing, dis- | {Acr II. you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest ? Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir. you perceive her earnest?!’ Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. Val. That’s the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. Val. I would it were no worse. Speed. Ill warrant you, ’tis as well. But did “For often have you writ to her; and she, in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply ; Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.’ All this I speak in print,!® for in print I found it.— Why muse you, sir? ’tis dinner-time. Val. I have dined. Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the came- leon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat. Oh, be not like your mistress ; be moved, be moved.!? [ Kxeunt. SCENE II.—Vrrona. The garden of Juu1a’s house. Enter Proteus and Juris. Pro. Jul. Pro. Jul. Have patience, gentle Julia. I must, where is no remedy. When possibly I can, I will return. If you turn not,'* you will return the sooner. Keep this remembrance for thy Julia’s sake. [Gives him a ring. Pro. Why, then, we’ll make exchange ; here, take you this. [Gives her another. Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ; And when that hour o’erslips me in the day Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance Torment me for my love’s forgetfulness ! My father stays my coming; answer not; ; The tide is now :—nay, not thy tide of tears ; That tide will stay me longer than I should: Julia, farewell ! (Eait Jura. What, gone without a word ? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak ; For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. Enter Panrurno. Pan. Siv Proteus, you are stay’d for. Pro. Go; I come, I come.— Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. [ Hzeunt. (15) Earnest. Used in opposition to “jest;’’ and in the sense of ‘pledge,’ or token of future and farther bestowal. (16) In print. Literally, exactly. Speed pretends to quote pre- cisely some lines he has read. F (17) Be moved. Used quibblingly for ‘have compassion on my hunger,’ and for ‘move on towards the dinner-table.’ : (18) Twn not. Turn not from your pledged love and faith. Scene FV. | SCENE III.—Vrrona. A street. Enter Launcer, leading a dog. Launce. Nay, ’twill be this hour ere I have done weeping ; all the kind’ of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the pro- digious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the imperial’s court. I think Crab my dog be the sourest- natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting ; why, my gran- dam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, Pll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father ;—no, this left shoe is my father ;—no, no, this left shoe is my mother ;—nay, that cannot be so neither ;—yes, it is so, it is so,—it hath the worser sole. This shoe is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on’t! there *tis: now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I am the dog ;—no, the dog is him- self, and I am the dog,—oh, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; “Father, your blessing!” now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother ;—oh, that she could speak now! like a wood woman ! ?°—well, I kiss her ;—why, there ’tis ; here’s - my mother’s breath up and down.”! Now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word: but see how J lay the dust with my tears. Enter Pantuino. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What’s the matter ? why weepest thou, man ? Away, ass! you’ll lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. Launce. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied. Pan. What’s the unkindest tide? Launce. Why, he that’s tied here,—Crab, my dog. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou’lt lose the flood: and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master ; and, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy service, —Why dost thou stop my mouth ? Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. Pan. Where should I lose my tongue ? Launce. In thy tale. Pan. In thy tail ! Launce. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my (19) Kind. Used for kindred. oS Wood woman. “ Wood”’ is an old word for crazy, distracted, mad. (21) Up and down. An expression formerly in use, meaning something similar to our modern phrase, ‘out and out,’ or ‘ beyond THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 5d tears ; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. LTaunce. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pan. Wilt thou go? Launce. Well, I will go. [ Exeunt. SCHNE IV.—Minan. A room in the DuKe’s palace. Enter Sitvia, VaLtentine, THurio, and Sprep. Sil. Servant,— Val. Mistress ? Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. Val. Ay, boy, it’s for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress, then. Speed. *Twere good you knocked him. Sil. Servant, you are sad. Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? - Val. Haply I do. Thu. So do counterfeits. Val. So do you. Thu. What seem I that I am not? Val. Wise. Thu. What instance of the contrary? Val. Your folly. Thu. And how quote you my folly ? Val. I quote it in your jerkin.” Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. Thu. How! Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir ; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. Val. ’Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant ? Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship’s looks, and spends what he borrows kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, T shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers,—for it appears, by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words. Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more :—here comes my father. mistake ;’ it is used here also to express the panting of old Mrs. Launce’s “ breath.” (22) Quote it in your jerkin. “Quote’’ being formerly often pro. nounced like coat, affords the pun here. ‘To “ quote’? was some: times used for to note, to remark, to observe. 56 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Enter Duxez. Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard be- set.— Sir Valentine, your father’s in good health : What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news ? Val. My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence. Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your country- man ? Val. 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 ? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves The honour and regard of such a father. Duke. You know him well? Val. 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, but his judgment ripe ; And, in a word,—for far behind his worth Come 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™ 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. Val. 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. Pll send him hither to you presently. [ Hatt. Vai. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock’d in her crystal looks. Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchis’d them, Upon some other pawn for fealty. Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still. Sil. Nay, then, he should be blind; and, being blind, How could he see his way to seek out you? Val. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say that Love hath not an eye at all. Val. 'To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself: Upon a homely object Love can wink. (23) Feature. Often used for general personal appearance as well as for lineament. (24) Beshrew. A minor form of imprecation, equivalent to ‘ill betide.’ A shrew, or a shrewish woman, was called a curst woman; and Bacon says that an ant is “a shrewd thing in an orchard or garden,”’ meaning a cursed thing, a mischievous thing. [Acr IT. Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. Enter Proruvs. Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !—Mistress, I be- seech you, Confirm his welcome with some special favour. Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, If this be he you oft have wish’d to hear from. Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress. Val. Leave off discourse of disability :— Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed. Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. Pro. [ll die on him that says so, but yourself. Sil. That you are welcome ? Pro. That you are worthless. Enter an Attendant. Att. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. Sil. I wait upon his pleasure. [Heit Att. Come, Sir Thurio, Go with me.—Once more, new servant, welcome : Vl leave you to confer of home affairs ; When you have done, we look to hear from you. Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. [Exeunt Stivia and Tuurto. Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came ? Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much commended. Val. And how do yours ? Pro. I left them all in health. Val. How does your lady ? and how thrives your love ? Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you; I know you joy not in a love-discourse. Val. 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 enthralléd eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart’s sorrow. Oh, gentle Proteus, Love’s a mighty lord, And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, There is no woe to his correction,” Nor to his 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. (25) Imperious. Despotic, authoritative, predominant. (26) No woe to his correction, &c. The word ‘ equal’ is understood between “‘ woe” and “to.’’ There is a similar form of elliptical expression in the next line; and farther on :—“ All I can is nothing to her;”’ where “‘to’’ has the force of ‘compared with.’ It was by no means an uncommon idiom when Shakespeare wrote. : i par AY h iy hy A iy Cee ik i BRAN an Ee 7 i tax rite Mh (i po y " a he Wes Nt Nl i) UR ste Hi Hy NR SH TA ema { NAH) ie / he Per IMT ui uN! ANN NK iW ie 0 RY wh tl LEAP LO SL Silvia. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; But since unwillingly, take them again; Nay, take them. Act II. Scene I. ad Screnz V.| Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. Was this the idol that you worship so ? Val. Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint ? Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon. Val. Call her divine. Pro. I will not flatter her. Val. Oh, flatter me ; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills ; And I must minister the like to you. Val. Then speak the truth by her: if not divine, Yet let her be a principality,” Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Pro. Except my mistress. Val. Sweet, except not any ; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own ? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too : She shall be dignified with this high honour,— To bear my lady’s train, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly. Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing : She is alone. Pro. Then let her alone. Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own ; And I as tich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee, Because thou see’st me dote upon my love. My foolish rival, that her father likes Only for his possessions are so huge, Is gone with her along ; and I must after, For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy. Pro. But she loves you? Val. Ay, and we are betroth’d: nay, more, our marriage-hour, With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determin’d of ; how I must climb her window, The ladder made of cords ; and all the means Plotted, and ’greed on for my happiness. Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. Pro. Go on before ; I shall inquire you forth: I must unto the road, to disembark Some necessaries that I needs must use; And then I’ll presently attend you. Val. Will you make haste ? Pro. I will. [Hxeunt VALENTINE and SprEp. Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, (27) Principality. A name assigned to one order of angelic beings. The word is here used by Valentine to express that Silvia is princely and euprenie among earthly women, and worthy to rank among angels. (28) Road. Roadstead, harbour, where ships may ride at anchor. (29) Is it her mien? The Folio “It is mine,” and other readings, have been proposed; but “mien” accords with “her true perfec- tion,” in forming antithesis to “Valentinus’ praise” and “false transgression.’’ Moreover, there is a passage in “ Merry Wives,” THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 5¢ So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it her mien,” or Valentinus’ praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus ? She’s fair; and so is Julia, that I love,— That I did love, for now my love is thaw’d; Which, like a waxen image ’gainst a fire, Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, And that I love him not as I was wont: Oh, but I love his lady too too much ; And that’s the reason I love him go little. How shall I dote on her with more advice, That thus without advice begin to love her! Tis but her picture’! I have yet beheld, And that hath dazzled® my reason’s light; But when I look on her perfections,* There is no reason but I shall be blind. If I can check my erring love, I will; If not, to compass her Pll use my skill. [ Hatt. SCENE V.—Minan. A street. Enter Srprep and Launcr. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for IT am not welcome. I reckon this always—that a man is never undone till he be hanged; nor never welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, ““ Welcome.” Speed. Come on, you madcap, I’ll to the ale- house with you presently; where, for one shot of fivepence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with Madam Julia? Launce. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him? Launce. No. Speed. How, then? shall he marry her ? Launce. No, neither. . Speed. What, are they broken? Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed. Why, then, how stands the matter with them ? Launce. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her. Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not. Launce. What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me. Speed. What thou sayest? i. 3, where “the revolt of mine’”’ is probably a misprint for “the revolt of mien.” h : (50, Advice. Used first for ‘consideration’ in the sense of ob- serving, looking at appreciatingly; secondly, for ‘ consideration’ in the sense of circumspection, care for consequences. (31) Her picture. Her exterior beauty. : (32) Dazzled. Must here be sounded as a trisyllable. : (33) Perfections. Used here for mental attractions, in contradis- tinction to the personal attractions he has expressed by the word “picture” just above. 60 Launce. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, Pil but lean, and my staff understands me. Speed. It stands under the, indeed. Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. Speed. But tell me true, will’t be a match? Launce. Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will; if he say no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will. Silvia. Speed. The conclusion is, then, that it will. Launce. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable. Speed. ’Tis well thatI getitso. But, Launce, how sayest thou, that my master is become a notable lover? Launce. I never knew him otherwise. Speed. Than how ? Launce. ~A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be. Speed. Why,thou perverse ass, thou mistakest me. Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master. Speed. I tell thee,my master is become a hot lover. (34) Go to the ale with a Christian. Launce having used the words “ Hebrew,” “ Jew,’ and “ Christian,’’ chooses to call the alehouse by this abbreviation, that it may humour his whim of confounding it with an “ Ale,’”’ or “ Church-Ale,”’ the names given to certain THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. [Acr II. Launce. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse ; if not, thou art a Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. Speed. Why? Lauwnce. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian.** Wilt thou go? Speed. At thy service. [ Exeunt. \ @ VJ = Zz (7 * Ni) iS IX N \ X ) eer y NS i \ == i \. TATTTEG WAAAY? u uu TR Yi wis \ I \ ii! NS Ss —4/, y SS .\ S Gy RN } | iy gpm Sa) ZS = YE = FZ Fo 1 FE ZZ, Fi Sth Ay No more, gentlemen, no more :—here comes my father. Act II. Scene IV. SCENE VI.—Miran. A room in the Duxe’s palace. Enter Prorevs. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ; To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn ; To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; And even that power, which gave me first my oath, Provokes me to this threefold perjury : Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear. Oh sweet-suggesting * Love, if thou hast sinn’d, Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it! At first I did adore a twinkling star, But now I worship a celestial sun. Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken ; ecclesiastical festivals where ale-drinking formed part of the holi- day merry-making. ee ee : ; (35) Suggesting. Tempting, inciting, alluring Scenz VIT.] And he wants wit, that wants resolvéd will To learn his wit t’? exchange the bad for better. Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad, ‘ Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr’d *° With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. I cannot leave* to love, and yet I do; But there I leave to love where I should love. Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose: If I keep them, I needs must lose myself ; i Ma Hes 3 LENE ruth { Ii an et ft tat ee i THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 61 Without some treachery us’d to Valentine. This night he meaneth with a corded ladder To climb celestial Silvia’s chamber-window; Myself in counsel, his competitor.* Now presently Pll give her father notice Of their disguising, and pretended ® flight ; Who, all enrag’d, will banish Valentine ; For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughters But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross, Speed. But tell me true, will’t be a match? Launce. Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will; if he say no, it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will. If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,— For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia. I to myself am dearer than a friend, For love is still most precious in itself; And Silvia—witness Heaven, that made her fair !— Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiop. I will forget that Julia is alive, Remembering that my love to her is dead; And Valentine Pll hold an enemy, Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. I cannot now prove constant to myself, (36) Preferr'd. Used in its sense of exalted, raised, advanced; as well as in its sense of regarded with preference. (37) Leave. Used for leave off, discontinue. (38) In counsel, his competitor. Admitted to his counsel, as his assistant, or coadjutor. Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word “ competitor’’ for partner, confederate. Here the sentence is em- Act II. Scene V. By some sly trick, blunt Thurio’s dull proceeding. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift ! [ Bait. A room in Juuta’s house. SCENE VII.—VeERona. Enter Juu1a and Lucerta. Jul. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me: And, even in kind love, I do cénjure thee,— Who art the table ‘° wherein all my thoughts ployed with peculiar effect ; Proteus conscious that he is admitted to his friend’s counsel as an auxiliary, while he gives him counsel knowing himself to be his rival. (39) Pretended. Purposed, intended. French, prétendre. (40) Table. Used for the tablets, made of ivory or slate; and kept in the pocket for noting down memoranda. 62 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Are visibly character’d and engrav’d,— To lesson me; and tell me some good mean, How, with my honour, I may undertake A journey to my loving Proteus. Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps: Much less shall she that hath Love’s wings to fly ; And when the flight is made to one so dear, Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. Luc. Better forbear till Proteus make return. Jul. Oh, know’st thou not, his looks are my soul’s food ? Pity the dearth that I have pinéd in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch“ of love, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, As seek to quench the fire of love with words. Ime. I do not seek to quench your love’s hot fire, But qualify the fire’s extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou damm’st it up, the more it burns: The current that with gentle murmur glides Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage: But when his fair course is not hinderéd, He makes sweet music with the enamell’d stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays, With willing sport, to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course: I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there [ll rest, as, after much turmoil, A blesséd soul doth in Elysium. Lue. But in what habit will you go along? Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent The rude encounters of assailing men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page. [Acr IIL. Ine. Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair. Jul. No, girl; Pll knit it up in silken strings, With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your doublet ? Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov’st me, let me have What thou think’st meet, and is most mannerly. But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey ? I fear me, it will make me scandalis’d. Lue. Ifyou think so, then stay at home, and go not. Jul. Nay, that I will not. Inc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. If Proteus like your journey when you come, No matter who’s displeas’d when you are gone: I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal. Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, And instances as infinite of love, Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. ue. All these are servants to deceitful men. Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus’ birth: His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart, as far from fraud as heaven from earth. Ie. Pray Heaven he prove so, when you come to him! Jul. Now, as thou lov’st me, do him not that wrong, To bear a hard opinion of his truth: Only deserve my love by loving him ; And presently go with me to my chamber, To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me upon my longing journey.’? All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation ; Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. Come, answer not, but to it presently ; Iam impatient of my tarriance. [ Hxeunt. AGT An ante-room in the Duxn’s palace. SCENE I.—Mrnan. Enter Duxn, Tuurio, and Prorzvs. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile ; We have some secrets to confer about. [ Hait THurto. Now, tell me, Proteus, what’s your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis- cover (41) Inly touch. Shakespeare uses the word “touch” with varied and powerful meaning. Here—joined with “ inly’’ for inward, or rather innermost—it conveys the idea of that fine and subtle feeling which penetrates to the heart’s core. (42) Longing journey. It has been proposed to exchange this Lie The law of friendship bids me to conceal ; But when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am, My duty pricks me on to utter that Which else no worldly good should draw from me. Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, This night intends to steal away your daughter ; Myself am one made privy to the plot. I know you have determined to bestow her epithet for ‘loving.’ But could there be a more Shakespearianly comprehensive word used here than “longing?” Julia, who has just talked of having “ pined,” “ longing”’ for the sight of Proteus, now speaks of the journey that she longs to take, that she longs ' to reach the end of, and longingly hopes to crown by beholding him. Scene I.] On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ; And should she thus be stol’n away from you, It would be much vexation to your age. Thus, for my duty’s sake, I rather chose To cross my friend in his intended drift, Than, by concealing it, heap on your head A pack of sorrows, which would press you down, Being unprevented, to your timeless! grave. Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care ; Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply when they have judg’d me fast asleep ; And oftentimes have purpos’d to forbid Sir Valentine her company and my court ; But, fearing lest my jealous aim? might err, And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,— A rashness that I ever yet have shunn’d,— I gave him gentle looks ; thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclos’d to me. And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,? I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept ; _ And thence she cannot be convey’d away. Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis’d a mean 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 aiméd 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. Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is coming. Enter VALENTINE. oo Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ? Val. 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 ? Val. The tenour of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court. Duke. Nay, then, no matter; stay with me awhile ; I am to break with thee of some affairs j That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. *Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought To match my friend, Sir Thurio, to my daughter. Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match (1) Timeless. Used for untimely, premature. (2) Jealous aim. Suspicion. Shakespeare occasionally uses “aim” and “aimed” thus figuratively for a conjecture pointing at or directed against some object. (3) Suggested. Tempted, enticed, allured. (4) Aimed at. Guessed at. (5) Pretence. Intention, purpose, design. (6) Qualities beseeming, 4c. The way in which Valentine here belies his own dignity as a gentleman, and compromises that of his mistress as a lady worthy all excellence in the match she should make, by speaking thus untruly of the husband proposed, affords THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 63 Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming® 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,’ hath drawn my love from her ; And, where* I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherish’d by her child-like 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. Val. What would your grace have me to do in this ? i Duke. There is a lady in Milano? here, Whom I affect ; but she is nice and coy, And naught esteems my agéd eloquence : Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,— For long agone I 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. Val. 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 mind. Duke. Butshe did scorn a present that I sent her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con- tents her: Send her another ; never give her o’er ; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you: If she do chide, ’tis not to have you gone; For why!® the fools are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; For “get you gone,” she doth not mean “away !” Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces ; Though ne’er so black, say they have angels’ faces. 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 no man hath access by day to her. Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by night. Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock’d, and keys kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night. Val. What lets" but one may enter at her window ? one of the many evidences that this play was one of Shakespeare’s earliest compositions. (7) Upon advice. On consideration. (8) Where. Often used for whereas. (9) Milano. The Folio prints ‘Verona’ here by mistake for “Milano ;’’ and there are one or two similar substitutions of one town’s name for another in the old copy of this play. Pope made the corrections. (10) For why. An old form of ‘because,’ ‘for this reason at. (11) What lets. “ Let’ formerly bore a precisely opposite sense Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life. Val. Why, then, a ladder, quaintly!? made of cords, To cast up, with a ys of anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero’s tower, So bold Leander would adventure it. Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, Advise me where I may have such a ladder. Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that. Duke. This very night; for Love is like a child, That longs for everything that he can come by. Val. By seven o’clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone: How shall I best convey the ladder thither ? Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak that is of any length. Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn ? Val. Ay, my good lord. Duke. Then let me see thy cloak: Pll get me one of such another length. Val. 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.— [Puts open VALENTINE’S cloak. What letter is this same? What’s here ?—“ é ’ - % « , 9 a ® *f.5 t PP < = > “Se - - * > want) a ae, 20- > Oy ‘ : Scene I.] Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished. Pro. That thou art banishéd—oh, that’s the news !— From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. Oh, I have fed upon this woe already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banishéd ? Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer’d to the doom,— Which, unrevers’d, stands in effectual force,— A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears : Those at her father’s churlish feet she tender’d ; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxéd pale for woe: But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire ; But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die. Besides, her intercession chaf’d him so, When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there. Val. No more; unless the next word that thou speak’st ; Have some malignant power upon my life: If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, As ending anthem of my endless dolour. Pro. Cease to lament for that thou can’st not help, And Pedy help for that which thou lament’st. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. Hope is a lover’s staff; walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts. Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence; Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver’d liven in the milk-white bosom of thy love.'® The time now serves not to expostulate : Come, Ill convey thee through the city-gate; And, ere I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concern thy love-affairs. As thou lov’st Silvia, though not for thyself, Regard thy danger, and along with me. Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou see’st my boy Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north gate. Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out.—Come, Valentine. Val. Oh, my dear Silvia !—Hapless Valentine ! [Exeunt VALENTINE and Prorevs. Launce. I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to think my master is a kind of a knave: but that’s all one, if he be but one knave.'® He lives not now that knows me to be in love; yet I am in (18) Bosom of thy love. It was formerly the fashion for women’s stays to be made with a small pocket, wherein they kept love- letters and love-tokens; hence arose the custom for gallants to address their missives as Hamlet inscribes his to Ophelia :—‘‘ In her excellent white bosom, these.”’ (19) But one knave. Possibly Launce means ‘ but a single knave;’ that is, an unmarried one. So long as his master does not crown his knavery by making his friend’s intended wife his own, Launce thinks it passable; and while he thus indicates his discovery of ag ee THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 67 love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who ’tis I love; and yet ’tis a woman; but what woman, I will not tell myself, and yet ’tis a milkmaid; yet ’tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips ; yet ’tis a maid, for she is her master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel,—which is much in a bare Christian. [Pulling out a paper.] Here is the cat-log of her conditions. [Reads.] “Imprimis, She can fetch and carry.” Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only carry ; therefore is she better than a jade. “Item, She can milk;” look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. Enter Sprep. Speed. How now, Signior Launce! what news with your mastership ? Launce. With my master’s ship? why, it is at sea. Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What news, then, in your paper? Launce. The blackest news that ever thou heardest. Speed. Why, man, how black? Launce. Why, as black as ink. Speed. Let me read them. Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read. Speed. Thou liest; I can. Launce. I will try thee. got thee ? Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Launce. Oh, illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy grandmother: this proves that thou canst not read. Speed. Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. Launce. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed ! 7° Speed. [ Reads] “Ttem, She can milk.” Launce. Ay, that she can. Speed. “Ttem, She brews good ale.”’ Launce. And thereof comes the proverb,—Bless- ing of your heart, you brew good ale. Speed. “Ttem, She can sew.” Launce. That’s as much as to say, Can she so? Speed. “Ttem, She can knit.” Launce. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can knit him a stock? 2! Speed. “Item, She can wash and scour.”’ Launce. A special virtue; for then she need not be washed and scoured. Speed. “Ttem, She can spin.”’ Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels when she can spin for her living. Speed. “Ttem, She hath many nameless virtues.” Launce. That’s as much as to say, bastard Tell me this: who be- his master’s love-secret, proceeds to the discussion of his own. “One knave’’ may also be meant in contradistinction to ‘ double- dealer,’ which is used by Shakespeare for one who is false to love-vows. (20) Saint Nicholas. The patron saint of children and of scholars. Probably from the link of ‘clever fellows,’ thieves were called “Saint Nicholas’s clerks ;”’ a cant name given to them in “1 Henry Vics ead Me (21) Stock. An old form of stocking. 68 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore have no names. Speed. “ Here follow her vices.’’ Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. Speed. “Ttem, She is not to be kissed fasting, in respect of her breath.” Launce. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. Speed. “Item, She hath a sweet mouth.” ?? Launce. That makes amends for her sour breath. Speed. “Item, She doth talk in her sleep.” Launce. It’s no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. Speed. “Item, She is slow in words.” Launce. Oh, villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow in words is a woman’s only virtue: I pray thee, out with’t, and place it for her chief virtue. S Ypeed. “Ttem, She is proud.” Launce. Out with that too; it was Eve’s legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her. Speed. “Ttem, She hath no teeth.” Launce. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. Speed. “Ttem, She is curst.’”’ 73 Launce. Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. Speed. “Ttem, She will often praise her liquor.” Launce. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised. Speed. “Ttem, She is too liberal.’’ Launce. Of her tongue she cannot, for that’s writ down she is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that Pll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed. S Ypeed. “Ttem, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.” Launce. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. Speed. “Ttem, She hath more hair than wit,’”— E Launce. More hair than wit,—it may be: Tl prove it. The cover of the salt” hides the salt, and therefore it’s more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the greater hides the less. What’s next? Speed. *« And more faults than hairs,’’— Launce. That’s monstrous: oh, that that were out ! S peed. «And more wealth than faults.” Launce. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,— Speed. What then? Launce. Why, then will I tell thee—that thy master stays for thee at the north gate. Speed. For me! Launce. For thee! ay; who art thou? he hath stayed for a better man than thee. (22) A sweet mouth. What is now called ‘a sweet tooth;’ though Launce takes it in its more usual and literal sense. Shake- speare has here shown his knowledge of the fact, that an inordinate liking for and consumption of sweetmeats leads to injury of the stomach and consequent spoiling of the breath. (23) Curst. Shrewish. (24) The cover of the salt. The saltcellar, in old English days, was [Acr III. Speed. And must I go to him? Launce. Thou must run to hin, for thou hast stayed so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? plague of your love-letters ! [ Hatt. Launce. Now will he be swinged for reading my letter,—an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- self into secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy’s correction. [ Hatt. SCENE II.—Miman. A room in the Duxn’s palace. Enter Duxe and Tuourio. Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love ou, Now Valentine is banish’d from her sight. Thu. Since his exile she hath despis’d me most, Forsworn my company, and rail’d at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her. Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenchéd” in ice, which with an hour’s heat Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.— Enter Proruvs. How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman, According to our proclamation, gone ? Pro. Gone, my good lord. Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. Duke. So TI believe; but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee— For thou hast shown some sign of good desert— Makes me the better to confer with thee. Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace, Let me not live to look upon your grace. Duke. Thou know’st how willingly I would effect The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter. Pro. Ido, my lord. Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant How she oppeses her against my will. Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. Duke. Ay, and perversely she persévers”* so. What’ might we do to make the girl forget The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio ? Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent,— Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she’ll think that it is spoke in hate. Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do ; Ary and covered; forming an important article on the dinner-table, and, placed somewhere near midway, serving as an indication of rank ( where various classes sat down to meals together. ‘Above the salt’ were placed those of superior grade; ‘ below the salt,’ their inferiors. (25) Trenched. Cut, carved. French, tranché. ; (26) Persévers. Shakespeare frequently thus accents the word persevere.’ Scenz IT.] *Tis an ill office for a gentleman, Especially against his very” friend. Duke. Where your good word cannot advantag him, Your slander never can endamage him; Therefore the office is indifferent, Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have prevail’d my lord: if I can do it By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 69 You are already Love’s firm votary, And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access Where you with Silvia may confer at large ; For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friend’s sake, will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, To hate young Valentine, and love my friend. Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect :— Gia cin iN Wa y i iN i\KI Third Outlaw. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you. . . Speed. Sir, we are undone, these are the villains that all the travellers do fear so much. She shall not long continue love to him. But say, this weed her love** from Valentine, It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. Thu. 'Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, Lest it should ravel and be good to none, You must provide to bottom it on me ;” Which must be done by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine. Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, Because we know, on Valentine’s report, (27) Very. True; Latin, verus. The title of one of Massinger’s plays is ‘A very Woman.’ In this passage, “his very friend” means his own friend, his particular friend. (28) Weed her love. Shakespeare uses “weed” as we now say “weed out;’ to eradicate, to take away from. “To weed my vice,” &e., “Measure for Measure,” iii. 2. “To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,’ “ Love’s Labour Lost,’’ v. 2. Act 1V. Scene f. But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough ; You must lay lime*® to tangle her desires By wailful sonnets, whose composéd rhymes Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. Duke. Ay, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. — ; Pro. Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. Write, till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again ; and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity :*! (29) To bottom it on me. A ‘bottom’ is a term used by seame stresses for that on, which silk or thread is wound. (30) Iime. Birdlime. ; (31) Such integrity. Used here for integrity of such proceedings as have just been described. By this kind of transposition, Shakespeare sometimes makes a small word like “such” do duty elliptically in relation to a previous topic. eee 70 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. For Orpheus’ lute was strung with poets’ sinews ; Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. After your dire-lamenting elegies, Visit by night your lady’s chamber-window With some sweet consort ;** to their instruments Tune a deploring dump: * the night’s dead silence Will well become such sweet complaining grievance. This, or else nothing, will inherit* her. Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. [Acr IV. Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently, To sort® some gentlemen well skill’d in music : I have a sonnet that will serve the turn To give the onset to thy good advice. Duke. About it, gentlemen. Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, And afterwards determine our proceedings. Duke. Even now about it: I will pardon you.* [| Hxeunt. ASC live SCENE I.—The frontiers of Mantua. A forest. Enter certain Outlaws. First Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger. Sec. Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with ’em. Enter VALENTINE and Speen. Third Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you ; If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you. Speed. Sir, we are undone: these are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much. Val. My friends,— First Out. That’s not so, sir,—we are your enemies. Sec. Out. Peace! we’ll hear him. Third Out. Ay, by my beard, will we, for he’s a proper man.! Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. A man I am cross’d with adversity : My riches are these poor habiliments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have. Sec. Out. Whither travel you? Val. To Verona. First Out. Whence came you? Val. From Milan. Third Out. Have you long sojourn’d there ? Val. Some sixteen months ;? and longer might have stay’d, If crookéd fortune had not thwarted me. (32) Consort. Formerly used fora company of musicians. Shake- speare makes Mercutio take the word in this sense, where he says, “Consort ! what, dost thou make us minstrels 2” (33) Dump. A mournful ditty, an elegiac strain. _ (34) Inherit. This word was formerly used to indicate possession, without reference to obtaining by heirship. (35) Sort. Select, choose. (36) I will pardon you. I will excuse your attendance. (1) A proper man. A comely, well-proportioned, finely-made man. _ (2) Some sixteen months. An instance of Shakespeare’s mode of indicating dramatic long time. (3) Have you the tongues? Can you speak different languages ? (4) Robin Hood’s fat friar. Friar Tuck. That the bold outlaws of Sherwood Forest should be cited by those of the Mantuan First Out. What, were you banish’d thence? Val. I was. Sec. Out. For what offence ? Val. For that which now torments me to re- hearse : I kill’d a man, whose death I much repent ; And yet I slew him manfully, in fight, Without false vantage or base treachery. First Out. Why, ne’er repent it, if it were done so. But were you banish’d for so small a fault ? Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. Sec. Out. Have you the tongues ?* Val._ My youthful travel therein made me happy, Or else I often had been miserable. Third Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood’s fat friar,‘ This fellow were a king for our wild faction ! First Out. We’ll have him :—-sirs, a word. Speed. Master, be one of them; It is an honourable kind of thievery. Val. Peace, villain ! Sec. Out. Tell us this: have you anything to take to? Val. Nothing but my fortune. Third Out. Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen, Such as the fury of ungovern’d youth Thrust from the company of awful men :5 Myself was from Verona banishéd For practising to steal away a lady, An heir,’ and near allied unto the duke. Forest, need hurt no one’s sense of appropriateness who recollects that the poet’s license includes the right to introduce all that serves to heighten impression; and the introduction of a well- known English outlaw’s name before an English popular audience would infallibly impress Shakespeare’s hearers with extra vivid consciousness of outlaw presence. (5) Awful men. Men calculated to inspire awe and respect; men of worth, probity, and dignity. There is significance of lawful authority and position included in Shakespeare’s use of this word 3 not only here, but in other passages: such, for instance, as the one in “‘ Taming of the Shrew,” “awful rule and right supremacy ;”’ in “2 Henry IV.,”’ iv. 1, “come within our awful banks again ;”’ and v. 2, “ pluck down justice from your awful bench.” (6) A lady, an heir. “Heir” was used not only for a male inheritor, but for an heiress. The word “near” is misprinted “neece” in the Folio; Theobald made the correction. Scene IT. ] Sec. Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, Who, in my mood,’ I stabb’d unto the heart. First Out. And I for such-like petty crimes as these. But to the purpose,—for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus’d our lawless lives ; And partly, seeing you are beautified With goodly shape, and by your own report A linguist, and a man of such perfection As we do in our quality® much want,— Sec. Out. Indeed, because you are a banish’d man, Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. Are you content to be our general 2 To make a virtue of necessity, And live, as we do, in this wilderness ? Third Out. What say’st thou? wilt thou be of our consort ?° Say ay, and be the captain of us all: We'll do thee homage, and be rul’d by thee, Love thee as our commander and our king. First Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. Sec. Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer’d. Val. I take your offer, and will live with you, Provided that you do no outrages On silly '® women or poor passengers. Third Out. _ No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, go with us, we’ll bring thee to our cave," And show thee all the treasure we have got; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. [| EKxeunt. SCENE Il.—Minan. The court of the Duxn’s palace. Enter Prorzus. Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. Under the colour of commending him, I have access my own love to prefer : But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. When I protest true loyalty to her, She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; When to her beauty I commend my vows, She bids me think how I have been forsworn, In breaking faith with Julia, whom I lov’d: And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,!” (7) Mood. resentment. i g (8) Quality. Professional avocation or pursuit. (9) Consort. Band, gang, fellowship. (10) Silly. Innocent, harmless, helpless. Shakespeare has used this word in various places, with its older and more favourable significations ; and with its more modern and less advantageous meaning. Archbishop Trench has shown how “silly” has passed into yarious declensions of signification; from blessed, innocent, harmless, down to weakly, foolish. (11) Bring thee to our cave. This last word was printed “ crewes” in the Folio; and though Shakespeare has elsewhere used “ crew’’ for a company, a set of people, yet being in the plural here, it looks very like a misprint. That “‘cave” is the right word, seems strongly supported by “ show thee all the treasure we have got,” in the next line; and there is mention of “our captain’s cave”’ in the third scene of the fifth act. The substitution was made by Mr. Collier’s MS. corrector. (12) Sudden quips. Shakespeare sometimes uses this word for wrath, Sharp retorts, keen fleers and flouts. The least whereof would quell a lover’s hope, Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, The more it grows, and fawneth on her still. But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window. And give some evening music to her ear. Enter Txurio and Musicians. Thu. Hownow, Sir Proteus! are you crept before us 218 Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio ; for you know that love Will creep in service where it cannot go. Thu. Ay; but I hope, sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but Ido; or else I would be hence. Thu. Who? Silvia.) 14 Pro. Ay, Silvia,—for your sake. Thu. I thank you for your own.—Now, gentle- men, Let’s tune, and to it lustily awhile. Enter, at a distance, Host, and Juuta in boy’s clothes. Host. Now, my young guest;—methinks you’re allicholy: I pray you, why is it ? Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you asked for. Jul. But shall I hear him speak ? Host. Ay, that you shall. Jul. That will be music.!® Host. Hark, hark! Jul. Is he among these ? Host. Ay; but, peace! let’s hear ’em. [Music plays. Sona. Who is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admiréd be. Is she kind as she is fair P— For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness: And, being help’d, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling ; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring. Host. How now! are you sadder than you were before? How do you, man? the music likes you not. (13) Crept before us. It is curious to note how, in slight touches, in mere passing words, as in broad painting, the poet contrives to fill up and keep perpetually before us the distinctive marks of his characters. In that little monosyllable “crept’’ here introduced,— no less than by the preceding soliloquy and the more manifest passages throughout the play,—the essential meanness that char- acterises Proteus is delineated. Through the impression produced upon other persons in the drama, Shakespeare often thus subtly conveys the impression he desires to produce on his audience; and in Thurio’s expression “ crept,’’ we seem to see Proteus as even the obtuse Thurio instinctively sees him,—a cringing, stealthy-stepped, base-souled man. (14) Who? Silvia? Among writers of Shakespeare’s time, “who” where we should now write ‘whom,’ ‘she’ for ‘her,’ ‘he’ for ‘ him,’ —and their respective reverse use,—were not considered blemishes or inaccuracies of style. (15) That will be music. One of those brief but all-eloquent sentences that Shakespeare puts into the mouths of his women, giving a passionate heart-history in four words, a THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 71 lp 72 Jul. Fost. You mistake; the musician likes! me not. Why, my pretty youth? Jul. He plays false, father. Host. How? out of tune on the strings? Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heart-strings. Host. You have a quick ear. Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart. Host. I perceive you delight not in music. Jul. Not a whit,—when it jars so. Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music! Jul. Ay, that change is the spite. Host. You would have them always play but one thing ? Jul. I would always have one play but one thing. But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on, Often resort unto this gentlewoman ? Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, —he loved her out of all nick. }7 Jul. Where is Launce ? Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, by his master’s command, he must carry, for a present to his lady. Jul. Peace! stand aside: the company parts. Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you: I will so plead, That you shall say my cunning drift excels. Thu. Where meet we ? Pro. At St. Gregory’s well. Thu. Farewell. [Hxeunt Tuurio and Musicians. SInv1a appears above, at her window. Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. Sd. Ithank you for your music, gentlemen, Who is that that spake? Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart’s truth, You would quickly learn to know him by his voice. Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it. Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. Sil. What is your will? Pro. That I may compass'8 yours. Sil. You have your wish: my will is even this,— That presently you hie you home to bed. Thou subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal man! Think’st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seducéd by thy flattery, That hast deceiv’d so many with thy vows? Return, return, and make thy love amends. For me,—by this pale queen of night I swear, I am so far from granting thy request, That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ; And by and by intend to chide myself, Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady ; But she is dead. (16) Likes. Said in the sense of ‘pleases ;’ answered apparently in the same sense, but really in the sense of ‘ approves,’ ‘ loves.’ (17) Out of all nick. Beyond all means of reckoning. The mark made on wooden tallies, when they were used for keeping accounts by making notches upon them, was called a “ nick.’ (18) Compass. Achieve. Proteus here uses “compass” in the combined senses that Shakespeare has occasionally assigned it; and means to infer that he wishes to gain a knowledge of Silvia’s will, that he may perform its behests. ee eee THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. {Acr IV. Jul. [Aside] "T'were false, if I should speak it; For I am sure she is not buriéd. Su. Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend Survives ; to whom, thyself art witness, I am betroth’d; and art thou not asham’d To wrong him with thy importunacy ? Pro. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. Sil. And so suppose am I; for in his grave Assure thyself my love is buriéd. Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. Sil. Go to thy lady’s grave, and call hers thence ; Or, at the least, in hers septlchre thine. Jul. [Aside] He heard not that. Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber: To that Pll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep; For, since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; And to your shadow will I make true love. Jul. [Aside] If *twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it, And make it but a shadow, as I am. Sul. Iam very loth to be your idol, sir; But, since your falsehood shall become you well"? To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I’ll send it: And so, good rest. Pro. As wretches have o’ernight, That wait for execution in the morn. [Hxeunt Prorevs, and Strvra above. Jul. Host, will you go? Host. By my halidom,” I was fast asleep. Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus ? Host. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think tis almost day. Jul. Not so, but it hath been the longest night That e’er I watch’d, and the most heaviest.2 [ Exeunt. —___.. SCENE I1.—The same. Enter Ecuamovur. Egl. This is the hour that Madam Silvia Entreated me to call and know her mind: There’s some great matter she’d employ me in.— Madam, madam! Srnvia re-appears above, at her window. Sil. Who calls ? Eigl. Your servant and your friend; One that attends your ladyship’s command. Si. Sir Eglamour, athousand times good morrow. Hgl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. According to your ladyship’s impose,” _(19) Become you well. “Become” is here used for befit ; make suitable, render appropriate. <_.(20), Halidom. "The terminating syllable is used as in the words kingdom,’ ‘Christendom,’ &c.; and the first portion is derived from the Saxon halig, sacred, holy. (21) Most heaviest. The double superlative and the double com- parative were not unfrequently used in Shakespeare’s time, on occasions when peculiar force of emphasis was needful. (22) Impose. Used as a noun for that which is imposed. An — 10 Host. Come, we'll have you merry. Julia. But shall I hear him speak? Host. Ay, that you shall. Act IV. Scene Ll. iad Scene IV.] I am thus early come, to know what service It is your pleasure to command me in. Sil. QO Kglamour, thou art a gentleman,— Think not [I flatter, for I swear I do not,— Valiant, wise, remorseful,*® well accomplish’d. Thou art not ignorant what dear good will I bear unto the banish’d Valentine ; Nor how my father would enforce me marry Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors. Thyself hast lov’d ; and I have heard thee say No grief did ever come so near thy heart As when thy lady and thy true love died, Upon whose grave thou vow’dst pure chastity. Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode ; And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, I do desire thy worthy company, Upon whose faith and honour I repose.** Urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour, But think upon my grief,—a lady’s grief,— And on the justice of my flying hence, To keep me from a most unholy match, Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues. I do desire thee, even from a heart As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, To bear me company, and go with me: If not, to hide what I have said to thee, That I may venture to depart alone. Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances ;*° Which since I know they virtuously are plac’d, I give consent to go along with you; Recking*® as little what betideth me, As much I wish all good befortune you. When will you go? Sil. This evening coming. Egl. Where shall I meet you? Sil. At Friar Patrick’s cell, Where I intend holy confession. Egl. Iwill not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, gentle lady. Sil. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. [Exeunt Hatamour, and Sinvia above. SCENE IV.—The same. Finter Launce, with his Dog. Launce. When a man’s servant shall play the eur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I saved from drown- ing, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went toit! I have taught him—even as one would say precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I ‘imposition’ is a term still used in college for a task set as 2 peat “Impose”? is here employed for injunction, com- mand. (23) Remorseful. Compassionate, full of pity and kindly com- miseration. (24) Upon whose faith and honour I repose. Shakespeare has shown how Silvia, who trusts in Valentine’s constancy, and loathes Proteus’s inconstancy, would especially confide in Sir Eglamour, who is vowed to constancy upon his lost lady’s grave, safely choos- ing him for faithful guide and protector in her flight. ’ (25) I pity much your grievances ; which, fc. Although this sen- tence is somewhat crampedly expressed, it appears to mean :— I pity the grievances of which you have to complain; but as I know THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 75 was sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon’s leg. Oh, ’tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon nim to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. IfI sad not had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been hanged for’t; sure as I live, he had suffered fort: you shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemanlike dogs, under the duke’s table: he had not been there (bless the mark!) a snuffing while, but all the chamber smelt him. - “Out with the dog,” says one; “ What cur is that?” says another; “ Whip him out,” says the third ; “ Hang him up,” says the duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dog: “Friend,” quoth I, “you mean to whip the dog >?” “Ay, marry, do I,” quoth he. “You do him the more wrong,” quoth I; “’twas I did the thing you wot of.” He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, Pll be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed. I have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for’t. —Thou thinkest not of this now! Nay, I remember the trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do? when didst thou see me heave up my leg against a gentlewoman’s farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick? Enter Protevs and Junta. Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what you please: I will do what I can. Pro. LIhope thou wilt.—[7'o Launcz] How now, you rascal peasant ! Where have you been these two days loitering ? Launce. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me. Pro. And what says she to my little jewel? Launce. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish thanks is good enough for such a present. Pro. But she received my dog? Iaunce. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him back again. - Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me? Launce. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman boys” in the market-place: how virtuously you bear them, and how little you deserve them, I give consent, &ec.’ “‘ Grievances” are generally explained to mean here ‘ griefs ;’ but the enforced marriage with a man whom her soul abhors, the most unholy match from which she would fly, seem to give support to the word being taken in its usual meaning of injuries menaced or inflicted, grounds for complaint. (26) Recking. Heeding, caring for, taking reckoning of. (27) Hangman boys. Printed “‘Hangmans boyes’’ in the Folio. But Shakespeare uses “ hangman”’ as an epithet for a mischievous boy in “ Much Ado about Nothing,” iii. 2, where Don Pedro says— “He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string, and the httle hangman dare not shoot at him.” Adding a superfluous “s’’ is a frequent mistake in the Folio. 76 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. and then I offered her mine own,—who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater. Pro. Go get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne’er return again into my sight. Away, I say! stay’st thou to vex me here? A slave, that still an end turns me to shame !* [Heit Lavnce. Sebastian, I have entertainéd thee, Partly that I have need of such a youth, That can with some discretion do my business, For ’tis no trusting to yond foolish lout ; But-chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour, Which—if my augury deceive me not— Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth: Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. Go presently, and take this ring with thee ; Deliver it to Madam Silvia : She lov’d me well deliver’d it to me.” Jul. It seems, you lov’d not her, to leave* her token. She’s dead, belike ? Pro.” Not so; I think she lives. Jul. Alas! Pro. Why dost thou cry, Alas? Jul. I cannot choose But pity her. Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her ? Jul. Because methinks that she lowd you as well As you do love your lady Silvia. She dreams on him that has forgot her love; You dote on her that cares not for your love. *Tis pity love should be so contrary ; And thinking on it makes me cry, Alas ! Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal This letter :—that’s her chamber :—tell my lady [ claim the promise for her heavenly picture. Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. [ Hatt. Jul. How many women would do such a message? Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain’d A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. Alas, poor fool !*! why do I pity him, That with his very heart despiseth me? Because he loves her, he despiseth me; Because I love him, I must pity him. This ring I gave him when he parted from me, To bind him to remember my good will: And now am I—unhappy messenger !— To plead for that which I would not obtain ; To carry that which I would have refus’d ; To praise his faith, which I would have disprais’d. Iam my master’s true confirmed love ; But cannot be true servant to my master, Unless I prove false traitor to myself. Yet will I woo for him; but yet so coldly As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. (28) Still an end. A usual expression for perpetually, never- endingly. (29) She lov’d me well deliver’d it to me. ‘Who’ understood before * deliver’d.”’ (30) Leave. Used for part with, give away, give up, relinquish. (31) Poor fool! An expression used by Shakespeare more in the [Acr IV. Enter Srivi1a, attended. Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. Sil. What would you with her, if that I be . she ¥ Jul. Ifyou be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on. Sil. From whom ? Jul. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam. Sil. Oh,—he sends you for a picture? Jul. Ay, madam. Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.— [Picture brought. Go give your master this: tell him, from me, One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.— [Gives a letter. Pardon me, madam: I have unadvis’d Deliver’d you a paper that I should not: This is the letter to your ladyship. _ [Gives another. Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. Jul. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. Sil. There, hold— [Gives back the first letter. T will not look upon your master’s lines: I know they are stuff’d with protestations, And full of new-found oaths, which he will break As easily as I do tear his paper. [Tears the second letter. Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. Sil. 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. Jul. She thanks you. - Sil. What say’st thou? Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her. Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. Sil. Dost thou know her? Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself: To think upon her woes I do protest That I have wept a hundred several times. Sil. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. Jul. Ithink she doth; and that’s her cause of sorrow. Sil. Is she not passing fair ? Jul. 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” 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 as I. sense of compassionate tenderness, than in that of describing folly; though here there is also a spice of the latter indicated, as Julia thinks of her weakness in still loving the faithless Proteus. (32) Sun-expelling mask. A “mask” formed part of a lady’s out- door attire, as a protection to the complexion. We find in Act v. 2, &c., that Silvia wears a mask when she is met in the forest. I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. SirValentine, I care not for her, I: ... The more degenerate and base art Act V. Scene IV. yw Te fad: Oren ae dash Scenz IT.] Sil. How tall was she? * Jul. 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 servéd 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. And at that time I made her weep a-good ; * For I did play a lamentable part: Madam, ’twas Ariadne, passioning * For Theseus’ perjury and unjust flight ; Which I so lively acted with my tears, That my poor mistress, movéd therewithal, Wept bitterly ; and, would I might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow! Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth.— Alas, poor lady! desolate and left !— I weep myself to think upon thy words. Here, youth, there is my purse: I give thee this For thy sweet mistress’ sake, because thou lov’st her. Farewell. Jul. And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you know her. [Exit Strvra with attendants. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful ! THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 79 I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, Since she respects my mistress’ love so much. Alas! how love can trifle with itself ! Here is her picture: let me see; I think, If I had such a tire, this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers: And yet the painter flatter’d her a little, Unless I flatter with myself too much. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: If that be all the difference in his love, Til get me such a colour’d periwig. Her eyes are grey as glass; *° and so are mine: Ay, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high. What should it be that he respects in her, But I can make respective * in myself, If this fond love were not a blinded god? Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For ’tis thy rival. Oh, thou senseless form, Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, lov’d, and ador’d ! And, were there sense in his idolatry, My substance should be statue * in thy stead. T’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake, That us’d me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes, ‘ To make my master out of love with thee! [Hwit. ACTING SCENE I.—Miran. An abbey. Enter Eatiamour. Eql. The sun begins to gild the western sky ; And now it is about the very hour That Silvia, at Friar Patrick’s cell, should meet me. She will not fail; for lovers break not hours, Unless it be to come before their time ; So much they spur their expedition. See where she comes. Enter S1ivia. Lady, a happy evening ! Sil. Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour, Out at the postern by the abbey-wall : I fear I am attended by some spies. (33) How tall was she? One of the commentators thinks this should be “‘ How tall is she?”’ But this throwing a subject from present tense into past tense, or the reverse, is not unfrequent in Shakespeare; and serves to give a certain spirited effect to the narration when, as here, the impression to be produced is of un- certain period. The speakers are mentioning Julia, and talking of her as a third person, and as absent, though she is herself one of the speakers, and present; and she, conscious of this, has thrown the subject partly into the past tense by the words “hath been fairer,” and “was as fair as you.” Then Silvia’s question follows naturally, “How tall was she?” producing the impres- sion of a person passed away,—exactly that which Julia wished to convey. (34) A-good. An expression of the time equivalent to ‘in good earnest,’ or ‘ heartily.’ (35) Passioning. ‘To passion’ was a verb in use formerly; and it is believed that emotional utterance and action were included in the word, as well as emotional feeling. (36) Her eyes are grey as glass. In Chaucer we find the same simile; and a poetical one it is; for glass formerly was sufficiently Eigl. If we recover that, we are sure enough. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off; | Hxeunt. SCENE II.—Minan. A room in the Duxe’s palace. Enter Tuuric, Protevs, and Junta. Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? Pro. Oh, sir, I find her milder than she was ; And yet she takes exceptions at your person. Thu. What, that my leg is too long? Pro. No; that it is too little. Thu. Vl wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder. Jul. [Aside] But love will not! be spurr’d to what it loathes. blue in colour to imply the azure hue, while the crystal clearness is likewise presented to the imagination. . (37) Respective. There are in this word that Julia uses the blended meanings of worthy of being regarded, and having relative worth to what is beautiful in Silvia. Shakespeare generally employs it in the sense simply of regardful, considerate. en (38) Come, shadow, &c. Julia calls herself a “ shadow,” being in disguise; and the picture a “shadow,” as Silvia has before called it so. (39) Statue. Though this word was sometimes used formerly for picture, it rather here means image, representation, embodied shape. (L) But love will not, &c. This speech is in the Folio assigned to Proteus; and Julia’s next, beginning “’Tis true, such pearls,” &c., is there given to Thurio. They are both completely in character with the comments which she makes aside, as a by-stander and an observer of the scene. The amount of misprinted prefixes to speeches in the Folio are incredible to those who have not counted them. We have reckoned up nearly a hundred, most of them obvious blunders, and the rest very probable ones- 80 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. [Acr V. Thu. What says she to my face? Jul. And TI will follow, more to cross that love, Pro. She says it is a fair one. Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [ Hart. Thu. Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black. Eines Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes. SCENE Ill.—The frontiers of Mantua. The forest. Jul. [Aside] *Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies’ eyes ; For I had rather wink than look on them. Thu. How likes she my discourse ? Pro. Til, when you talk of war. Thu. But well, when I discourse of love and peace ? Jul. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. Thu. What says she to my valour? Pro. Oh, sir, she makes no doubt of that. Jul. [Aside] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. Thu. What says she to my birth? Pro. That you are well deriv’d. Jul. [Aside| True; from a gentleman to a fool. Thu. Considers she my possessions ? Pro. Oh, ay; and pities them. Thu. Wherefore? Jul. [Aside] That such an ass should owe them. Pro. That they are out by lease.’ Jul. Here comes the duke. Enter Duxe. Duke. ow now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio! Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late ? Thu. Not I. Pro. Nor f. Duke. Saw you my daughter ? Pro. Neither. Duke. Why, then, she’s fled unto that peasant Valentine ; And Eglamour is in her company. Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both, As he in penance wander’d through the forest: Him he knew well; and guess’d that it was she, But, being mask’d, he was not sure of it : Besides, she did intend confession At Patrick’s cell this even ; and there she was not. These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence : Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, But mount you presently ; and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain-foot That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled : Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [ Heit. Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish’ girl, That flies her fortune when it follows her. T’ll after, more to be reveng’d on Hglamour, Than for the love of reckless * Silvia. [ Hatt. Pro. Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love, [Ewit, (2) Out by lease. This is said in reply to Thurio’s question re- specting his “ possessions;’’ which word he uses in its sense of worldly goods, estates, and which Proteus replies to in such a way that he shall seem to take it in the same sense (by saying he pities the lands for being let on lease, and therefore out of their owner’s keeping), and yet really take it in the sense of mental endowments (by saying they don’t belong to Thurio, that he has none). (3) Peevish. Wilful, perverse. The word has been used in this Enter Outlaws with Sivia. First Out. Come, come; Be patient; we must bring you to our captain. Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn’d me how to brook this patiently. Sec. Out. Come, bring her away. First Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her ? Third Out. run us. But Moyses and Valerius follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood ; There is our captain: we’ll follow him that’s fled ; The thicket is beset, he cannot ’scape. [Exeunt all except First Outlaw and Sinvra. First Out. Come, I must bring you to our cap- tain’s cave: Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawlessly. Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee ! [| Exeunt. Being nimble-footed, he hath out- SCENE IV.—Another part of the forest. Enter VALENTINE. Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! These shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: Here can I sit alone, unseen of any ; And to the nightingale’s complaining notes Tane my distresses and record my woes.? Oh, thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, And leave no memory of what it was ! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ! Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! [Noise heard. What halloing and what stir is this to-day ? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger® in chase. They love me well; yet I have much to do To keep them from uncivil outrages.— Withdraw thee, Valentine : who’s this comes here? [ Retires. Enter Protrevs, S1ivia, and Juria. Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,— Though you respect not aught your servant doth,— same sense at the beginning of the Third Act: “ She is peevish, sullen, froward.”’ (4) Reckless. Unheedful, thoughtless, unregardful. (5) Record my woes. To “record” is to sing ; as birds sing, when taught by a small flute called a ‘recorder.’ Shakespeare uses the verb in the same way, “ Pericles,’’ iv.—(Gower.) (6) Have some unhappy passenger. If ‘and’ be understood before “have,” the passage is clear. Scenz IV.] To hazard life, and rescue you from him That would have fore’d your honour and your love : Vouchsafe me, for my meed,’ but one fair look ; A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. Val. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear ! Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. Sil. Oh, miserable, unhappy that I am! Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came ; But by my coming I have made you happy. Sil. By thy approach thou mak’st me most un- appy- Jul. [Avide] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. Sil. Had I been seizéd by a hungry lion, I would have been a breakfast to the beast, Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. O Heaven, be judge how I love Valentine, Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul; And full as much—for more there cannot be— I do detest false perjur’d Proteus ! Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look ? Oh, ’tis the curse in love, and still approv’d,® When women cannot love where they’re beloy’d ! Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he’s be- lov’d. Read over Julia’s heart, thy first best love, For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oaths, and all those oaths Descended into perjury, to love me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou’dst two, And that’s far worse than none; better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one. Thou counterfeit to thy true friend ! Pro. In love Who respects friend ? Sil. All men but Proteus. Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form, Pll woo you like a soldier, at arms’ end, And love you ’gainst the nature of love,— force ou. sil. O Heaven! Eto. ' [ll force thee yield to my desire. Val. [Coming forward] Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ;— Thou friend of an ill fashion ! Pro. Valentine ! (7) Meed. Reward, recompense. (8) Still approv’d. Perpetually proved by experience to be the case. (9) All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. This line,—the over- strained generosity of which startles most sedate readers,—is pre- cisely in keeping with the previous speech, and with Valentine’s character. 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, and works himself up to the requisite pitch of superhuman courage by the emulative reference to Divine mercy ; but we see by his subse- quent speech to Thuvio, how strongly his love for Silvia maintains itself within his bosom, though he fancies for the moment that he could make it ancillary to friendship. The generous ardour of Valentine’s character is again visible in his appeal to the Duke on THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 81 Val. Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love ;— For such is a friend now ;—treacherous man! ‘Thou hast beguil’d my hopes: naught but mine eye Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say, I have one friend alive: thou wouldst disprove me. Who should be trusted now, when one’s right hand Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest: Oh, time most curst! *Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst ! Pro. My shame and guilt confound me.— Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender’t here; I do as truly suffer As e’er I did commit. Val. 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 th’ Eternal’s wrath’s appeas’d :— And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.® Jul. Oh, me unhappy! [Faints. Pro. Look to the boy. Val. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what’s the matter? Look up; speak. Jul. Oh, good sir, my master charg’d me To deliver a ring to Madam Silvia ; Which, out of my neglect, was never done. Pro. Where is that ring, boy? Jul. Here ’tis; this is it. [Gives a ring. Pro. How! let me see :— Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. Jul. Oh, ery you mercy, sir, I have mistook: This is the ring you sent to Silvia. [Shows another ring. Pro. But how cam’st thou by this ring ? At my depart I gave this unto Julia. Jul. And Julia herself did give it me ; And Julia herself hath brought it hither. Pro. How! Julia! Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths,! And entertain’d them deeply in her heart : How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ! O Proteus! let this habit make thee blush : Be thou asham’d that I have took" upon me Such an immodest raiment,—if shame live In a disguise of love.’ It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes, than men their minds. behalf of “these banish’d men,’’ his companions; and the moral effect which his own virtuous principle, precept, and example, have wrought upon them in their reform, is of a piece with Shakespeare’s noble philosophy of good in evil, thus early visible in this his certainly youthful production. ; (10) Gave aim to all thy oaths. The object to which all thy oaths were directed. ‘ Cry aim,’’ and “ give aim,’’ were terms in archery; and the latter applied to the person stationed near the butts, who was called ‘the mark.’ The allusion to archery is continued in the words, “cleft the root;’’ ‘cleaving the pin’ being the technical expression for hitting the centre of the butts. (11) Have took. A grammatical license permitted in Shake- speare’s time. (12) If shame live in a disquise of love. a disguise in the cause of affection. If it be any shame to wear ar 82 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Pro. Than men their minds! ’tis true. O Heaven, were man But constant, he were perfect! that one error Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins: Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins. What is in Silvia’s face, but I may spy More fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye? Val. Come, come, a hand from either. Let me be bless’d to make this happy close : *T were pity two such friends should be long foes. Pro. Bear me witness, Heaven, | have my wish for ever.'® Jul. And I mine. Enter Outlaws, with Duxr and Truro. Outlaws. The “ Merry Wives.” Mistress Page, Anne Paar, her daughter, in love with Fenton. Mistress QuicKLy, servant to Doctor Caius. Servants to Page, Ford, &c. Scene— Windsor, and the neighbourhood. THE MERRY WIVES WINDSOR. OF As@elo ol SCENE I.—Wrinpsor. Before Pacn’s house. Enter Justice Suattow, Sienper, and Sir Hucw Evans. Shal. Sir Hugh,? persuade me not; I will make a Star-chamber’ matter of it: if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire. Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace and coram.* Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and cust-alorum.® Slen. Ay, and ratolorwm too; and a gentleman born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero,— in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero. Shal. Ay,that { do; and have done® any time these three hundred years. Slen. All his successors gone before him have done’t; and all his ancestors that come after him may: they may give the dozen white luces’ in their coat. Shal. It is an old coat. Ewans. The dozen white louses do become an old (1) The Merry Wives of Windsor. This play was first printed in uarto, in 1602; but probably from oral and unauthorised sources, since it, and a second Quarto Edition which appeared in 1619, are very inferior versions of this excellent comedy, as given in the Folio, 1623. Half a dozen different tales have been pointed out as affording some trace of the possible origin whence Shakespeare derived hints for his plot: but there is a pleasant tradition that the play owed its existence to a wish expressed by Queen Elizabeth, who was so much entertained with Falstaff’s character in the two parts of “Henry IV.,” that she desired Shakespeare would write a comedy wherein the fat knight might figure as a lover. The way in which the Dramatist fulfilled the royal command, while yet preserving the integrity of FalstafPs nature (whose love of self is paramount to all other love), may be admired in every scene of this genuinely delightful play, and instanced in even so slight a touch as the knight’s reply to Mistress Page’s remonstrance, when he says all in one breath, “ I love thee, and none but thee; help me away.” (2) Sir Hugh. “Sir” was formerly given as a title to priests ponerally, and curates especially. Those who took the academic egree of Bachelor of Arts were styled Dominus (translated into English by the word “ Sir”) ; and this degree having been taken by most men in orders, it became usual to give them that title. (3) Star-chamber. A formidable court of justice that took cog- nisance of offences against public order, &e.; and which Shallow , sch to be the fit tribunal for redressing such weighty grievances as his. - coat well; it agrees well, passant; it is a familar beast to man, and signifies—love. Shal. The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old coat. Slen. I may quarter, coz? Shal. You may, by marrying. Evans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.* Shal. Nota whit. Evans. Yes, py’ lady; if he has a quarter of your coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures: but that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my benevolence to make atonements and compromises between you. Shal. The council® shall hear it; it is a riot. Evans. It is not meet the council hear a riot; there is no fear of Got in ariot: the council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your vizaments"” in that. Shal. Ha! o’ my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it. (4) Coram. This word ( before’) and armigero (ablative case of armiger, ‘bearer of arms,’ or ‘ esquire’) occur in the form for attes- tations, which Slender had seen; wherein his cousin’s name would thus appear, ‘coram me Roberto Shallow armigero, &c. Slender also confuses the word with “Quorum” (‘ Bench of Justices’) [see Note 5]. (5) tart An abbreviation of Custos Rotulorum (‘Keeper of the Rolls’); which would be a part of Shallow’s designation, thus:—‘ Justice of the Peace, and of the Quorum and Custos Rotulorum.’ : (6) Have done. ‘All we Shallows,’ understood before “have one.” (7) White luces. “Luce” is a pike or jack, and figured in the coat of arms of the Lucy family. In the Jumble of heraldic allu- sions here made by Slender and Shallow, and in the character of the Justice himself, Shakespeare is supposed to have had sportive reference to Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote, from whose park, or grounds, the youthful poet was said to have stolen a deer, thereby incurring the knight’s wrath and persecution. (8) Marring indeed, if he quarter it. A play on the words “marring’”’ and “marrying” is frequent in Shakespeare ; and “ quarter” is here asked in the sense of a heraldic technicality, and replied to in the sense of dividing into fourths. (9) The council. Meaning the Star-chamber. (10) Vizaments. For advisements; consideration, circumspec- tion. 86 Evans. Tt is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another device in my prain, which peradventure prings goot discretions with it :— there is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is pretty virginity. Slen. Mistress Anne Page?! She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman. Evans. Tt is that fery person for all the ’orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death’s-bed (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections! ) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old: it were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound ? Evans. Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny.!? Shal. good gifts. Hvans. Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is goot gifts. I know the young gentlewoman; she has Shal. Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff there ? Evans. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar as I do despise one that is false; or as I despise one that is not true. The knight, Sir John, is there ; and, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master Page, [Knocks.] What, ho! Got pless your house here! Page. [Within] Who’s there? Hvans. Here is Got’s plessing, and your friend, and Justice Shallow ; and here young Master Slender, that peradventures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings. Enter Pace. Page. I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. Shal. Master Page, Iam glad to see you: much good do it your good heart! I wished your venison better; it was ill killed—How doth good Mistress Page ?—and I thank you always with my heart, la ; with my heart. Page. Sir, I thank you. Shal. Sir, [thank you; by yea and no, I do. Page. I am glad to gee you, good Master Slender. Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say he was outrun on Cotsall. !3 Page. It could not be judged, sir. Slen. You'll not confess, you’ll not confess. _ (11) Mistress Anne Page. “Mistress” was formerly used as a title for unmarried as well as married women. To “speak small’”’ was to have a soft, low voice. _ (12) Petter penny. ‘A better penny’ was formerly an expression in familiar use: and seems to have been tantamount to our present phrase, ‘a pretty penny,’ meaning a handsome sum. (13) Cotsall. Corruption of Cotswold. The Cotswold hills in Glo’stershire were famous for coursing and other rural sports, as they consisted of a large tract of downs with fine turf. ,, (4) Tis your fault. Shakespeare sometimes uses “fault’’ for ill-lnck, mishap, misfortune. (15) Counsel. Falstaff, in punning retort, uses this word in its combined senses of ‘ seerecy,’ and of ‘prudently calculating conse- quences, THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. | [Acr I. Shal. That he will not.—’Tis your fault, ’tis your fault :4—’tis a good dog. Page. A cur, sir. Shal. Sir, he’s a good dog, and a fair dog: can there be more said ? he is good and fair.—Is Sir John Falstaff here ? Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good office between you. Hvans. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. Shal. He hath wronged me, Master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed: is not that so, Master Page? He hath wronged me; indeed he hath ;—at a word, he hath ;—believe me ; Robert Shallow, esquire, saith he is wronged. : Page. Here comes Sir John. Enter Six Joun Fatstarr, Barpoupn, Ny, and Pisrou. Fal. Now, Master Shallow,—you’ll complain of me to the king ? Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed. my deer, and broke open my lodge. Fal. But not kissed your keeper’s daughter. Shal. Tut, a pin! this shall be answered. Fal. Iwill answer it straight; I have done all this :—that is now answered. Shal. The council shall know this. Fal. °*Twere better for you if it were known in counsel :'° you’ll be laughed at. Evans. Pauca verba, Sir John, goot worts. Fal. Goot worts!!® good cabbage.—Slender, I broke your head: what matter have you against me? Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; and against your coney-catching”” rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol: they carried me to the tavern and made me drunk, and afterwards picked my pocket. Bard. You Banbury cheese !'8 Slen. Ay, it is no matter. Pist. How now, Mephostophilus ! Slen. Ay, it is no matter. Nym. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca ; slice !*° that’s my humour. Slen. Where’s Simple, my man ?—can you tell, cousin ? Evans. Peace, I pray you.—Now let us under- stand. There is three umpires in this matter, as I understand; that is, Master Page, jfidelicet Master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter. Page. them, We three, to hear it and end it between (16) Good worts. “ Worts’’ was used for various kinds of cab- bages; and still exists in the word ‘ colewort.’ (17) Coney-catching. “Coney” is one name for a rabbit; and from those who robbed rabbit-warrens, the term came to be applied to thieves and cheats in general. ‘ (18) Banbury cheese. A flat thin cheese; which Bardolph thinks descriptive of Slender’s lank figure. (19) Mephostophilus. The name of an evil spirit, known to Shake- speare through the old tale of ‘Faust,’ as to moderns through Goethe’s tragedy. Probably then in use to signify a gaunt, ill- favoured creature. (20) Pauca, pauca; slice! Pauca, Latin, tew; used for ‘few words.’ “Slice” was probably a cant exclamation, equivalent to our slang phrase, ‘Cut!’ Be off! Scenz I] Evans. Fery goot: I will make a prief of it in my note-book ; and we will afterwards ’ork upon the cause with as great discreetly as we can. Fal. Pistol,— Pist. He hears with ears. Evans. The tevil and his tam! what phrase is this, “He hears with ear?” why, it is affectations. Fal. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender’s purse? Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he—or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber again else—of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards,” that cost me two shilling and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these gloves. Fal. Is this true, Pistol? Evans.. No; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. Pist. Ha, thou mountain foreigner !—Sir John and master mine, T combat challenge of this latten bilbo."— Word of denial in thy labras”* here ; Word of denial :—froth and scum, thou lest! Slen. By these gloves, then, ’twas he. Nym. Be avised, sir, and pass good humours. T will say “marry trap” with you, if you run the nuthook’s humour™ on me; that is the very note of it. Slen. By this hat, then, he in the red face had it; for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. Fal. What say you, Scarlet and John?” Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentle- man had drunk himself out of his five sentences,— Evans. It is his “five senses:” fie, what the ignorance is! Bard. And being fap,” sir, was, as they say, cashiered ; and so conclusions passed the careires.” Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but ’tis no matter: I'll ne’er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, civil, goodly company, for this trick; and not with drunken knaves. Evans. So Got’udge me, that is a virtuous mind. Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentle- men; you hear it. Enter Anne Pace, with wine; Mistress Forp, and Misrress Pages. Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll drink within. [Havit ANNE Pace. Slen. Oh, heaven! this is Mistress Anne Page. Page. How now, Mistress Ford ! Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met: by your leave, good mistress. [Kissing her. (21) Mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards. The former coins were the first milled money made in England, and were used for counters; the latter were broad shillings of Edward VI., used at the game of shovel-board, or shuffle-board. (22) Latten bilbo. “ Latten’’ was a base metal; and “bilbo”’ became a name for a sword, from good sword blades being made at Bilboa, in Spain. So that Pistol has a fling at Slender’s being as little to be relied on in fight as a worthless weapon. (23) Labras. Spanish, lips. (24) “ Marry trap” with you, if you run the nuthook’s humour, Xe. “Marry trap” seems to have been a slang exclamation similar to “Catch who catch can;’ and “nuthook”’ was a cant term for one who hooks thieves—a bailiff. (25) Scarlet and John. Will Scarlet and Little John were the names of two of Robin Hood’s men; and Falstaff blends the titles into one for Bardolph, in allusion to his red proboscis and hulking stature. THE MERRY WIVES OF WENDSOR. | 87 Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen weleome.— Come, we have a hot venison-pasty to dinner: come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness. [Hxeunt all except SHau., SLEN., and Evans. Slen. Ihad rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets”* here. Enter Simpue. How now, Simple! where have you been? I must wait on myself, must 1? You have not the Book of Riddles about you, have you ? Sim. Book of Riddles! why, did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake upon All-hallowmas” last, a fort- night afore Michaelmas ? Shal. Come, coz; come, coz; we stay for you. A word with you, coz; marry, this, coz ;—there is, as *twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do you understand me? Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable ; if it be so, I shall do that that is reason. Shal. Nay, but understand me. Slen. So I do, sir. Evans. Give ear to his motions, Master Slender : I pul description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it. Slen. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says: I pray you, pardon me; he’s a justice of peace in his country, simple though I stand here. Evans. But that is not the question: the ques- tion is concerning your marriage. Shal. Ay, there’s the point, sir. Evans. Marry, is it; the very point of it; to Mistress Anne Page. Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any reasonable demands. Evans. But can you affection the oman? Let us command to know that of your mouth or of your lips; for divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel®® of the mouth: therefore, precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid ? Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her? Slen. I hope, sir, it will do as it shall become one that would do reason. Evans. Nay, Ot’s lords and his ladies, you must speak possitable, if you can carry her your desires towards her. Shal. That you must. dowry, marry her? Slen. I will do a greater thing than that, upon your request, cousin, in any reason. Shal. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz: Will you, upon good (26) Fap. Possibly from the Italian, vappa ; which Florio’s Dictionary renders by ‘ wine that hath lost his force and strength ; used also for a man in whom is no wit or reason.’ Therefore “fap ”’ was probably a slang term for maudlin drunk. (27) Passed the careires. A term of the manége, for running at full speed. Possibly, by this rhodomontade that Slender takes for Latin, Bardolph means to say: ‘Being stupidly drunk, he was turned out (his pockets, as well as himself), and then words ran high, at full gallop.’ (28) Book of Songs and Sonnets. This “Book of Songs and Sonnets,” and the “ Book of Riddles,’”’ were evidently fashionable volumes, which Slender was in the habit of carrying about with him as aids to gallant expressions when wooing. (29) All-hallowmas. The Feast of the 1st of November. Simple blunders, by miscalling Martinmas (the 11th November), Michael- mas, which is the 29th of September. (30) Parcel. Used for part; as it is still in legal language. 88 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. what I do is to pleasure you, coz. Can you love the maid ? Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request: but if there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another; I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt: but if you say, “ marry her,” I will marry her; that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. Evans. Evans. It is a fery discretion answer; save the faul’ is in the ’ort “ dissolutely :” the ’ort is, accord- ing to our meaning, “resolutely: ”’—his meaning is goot. Shal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well. Slen. Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la. Shal. Here comes fair Mistress Anne. Re-enter Anne Paar. Would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne! Anne. The dinner is on the table; my father desires your worships’ company. Shal. I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne. Fivans. Od’s plessed will! I will not be absence at the grace. [Hzeuwnt Suattow and Sir H. Evans. (31) Master of fence—three veneys, &'c. “Master of fence’’ means not only a fencing-master, but one who had taken his degree {Acr I. Anne. Will’t please your worship to come in, sir? Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very well. Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. Slen. Iam not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. —Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my cousin Shallow. [Hit Simptz.] —here, read, read; perceive how I might be knighted.—f shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of men’s liking:® and yet he would not swear; praised women’s modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his disposi- tion would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place’ together, than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of “ Green sleeves.”® What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tons of oil in his carcase, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think, the best way were to entertain him with hope, till his wicked fire have melted him in his own erease.—Did you ever hear the like ? Mrs. Page. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs !—To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here’s the twin-brother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for different names,—sure, more,—and these are of the second edition. He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not what he puts into the press. Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very . hand, the very words. What doth he think of us? Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. Tl en- tertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain? in me, that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. Let’s be revenged on him: let’s appoint him a meeting; give him a show of comfort in his suit; and lead him on with a fine- baited delay, till he hath pawned his horses to mine host of the Garter. Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any vil- lainy against him, that may not sully the chariness'® of our honesty. Oh, that my husband" saw this letter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy. liking ;”” meaning, ‘ While I am in tolerably good case, or condi- tion.’ (7) Keep place. Shakespeare twice uses this (here and in “Troilus and Cressida,” iii. 3), where now ‘keep pace’ would be probably used ; meaning in the present passage, coincide, harmonise, agree; and in the other, co-exist, subsist in equal rate or degree. | (8) “Green sleeves.” The name of a popular song, very free in character. ; (9) Strain. Propensity, tendency to evil. (10) Chariness. Has been derived from the Saxon ceaniz, careful, cautious, wary; but may it not come from the French chére, dear ? ©To be chary of, ‘to keep charily,’ is as likely to signify to “hold dear,’ to ‘ prize,’ as ‘to be wary of;’ and therefore “the chariness of our honesty,’ would mean ‘the dearness in which we hold our honesty,’ or ‘the honesty we hold so dear.’ Ae Oh, that my husband, &c. ‘If’ must be understood before that.’ 96 THE MERRY WIVES Mrs. Page. Why, look, where he comes ;—and my good man too. He’s as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance. Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman. Mrs. Page. Let’s consult together against this greasy knight. Come hither. [They retire. Enter Forp, Piston, Pace, and Nym. Ford. Well, I hope it be not so. Pist. Hope is a curtail dog” in some affairs. Sir John affects thy wife. Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. Pist. He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford ; He loves the gally-mawfry :'* Ford, perpend.1* Ford. Love my wife! Pist. With liver burning hot.' thou, Like Sir Actzon he, with Ringwood at thy heels. Oh, odious is the name! Ford. What name, sir ? Pist. The horn, I say. Farewell. Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by night. Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo birds do sing.— Away, Sir Corporal Nym !— Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. Prevent, or go [Bwit. Ford. [Aside| I will be patient; I will find out this. Nym. [To Pace] And this is true; I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours: I should have borne the humoured letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there’s the short and the long. My name is Corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch ’tis true: my name is Nym, and Fal- staff loves your wife-—Adieu. I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and there’s the humour of it. Adieu. [ Eait. Page. [Aside] “The humour of it,”!6 quoth ’a! here’s a fellow frights humour out of his wits. Ford. [Aside| I will seek out Falstaff. Page. {Aside} I never heard such a drawling, affecting” rogue. Ford. [Aside] If I do find it :—well. Page. [Aside] Iwill not believe such a Cataian,'’ though the priest o’ the town commended him for a true man. Ford. [Aside] *I'was a good sensible fellow :— well. (12) Curtail dog. As it was believed that the tail assisted dogs in running, so dogs not intended for sporting purposes had their tails cut shorter, and were considered worthless. ‘Cur’ is probably derived from this word. (13) Gally-mawfry. A hotch-potch, a medley, a heterogeneous collection. The word refers to the “high and low,’ “rich and poor,” “young and old, one with another,’’ that Pistol has been enumerating. (14) Perpend. An affected word for ‘think it over,’ ‘ consider it carefully.’ Latin, perpendo. (15) With liver burning hot. The liver was supposed to be the seat of the passions. (16) The humour of it. _Nym’s coxcombical reiteration of the word “humour” is a specimen of an absurdity prevailing in the time of Shakespeare, which he and other writers of that period have satirised. The general tone of vapouring swagger that charac- terises the diction of both Nym and Pistol, envelopes it in a fog of OF WINDSOR. [Acr dae Page. How now, Meg! Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George ?—Hark ou. e Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank! why art thou melancholy ? Ford. I melancholy! Get you home, go. Mrs. Ford. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.—Will you go, Mistress Page? Mrs. Page. Have with you.— You'll come to dinner, George ?—[Aside to Mrs. Forp] Look who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. Mrs. Ford. [Aside to Mrs. Paar] Trust me, I thought on her; she’ll fit it. I am not melancholy.— Enter Mistress Quickty. Mrs. Page. Anne ? Quick. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne? Mrs. Page. Go in with us and see: we have an hour’s talk with you. [EHxeunt Mistress Pace, Mistress Forp, and Misrress QuickKtiy. You are come to see my daughter Page. How now, Master Ford! Ford. You heard what this knave told me, did you not? Page. Yes; and you heard what the other told me? Ford. Do you think there is truth in them ? Page. Hang ’em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues,'? now they be out of service. Ford. Were they his men? Page. Marry, were they. Ford. I like it never the better for that.—Does he lie at the Garter ? Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to turn them together. A man may be too confident: I would have nothing lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied. Page. Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily. obfuscation more droll in the general effect than worth the pains of penetrating to discover its precise meaning—often dark even to the speakers themselves. (17) Affecting. Writers of Shakespeare’s time often used the active participle for the passive one; and thus, “affecting ’’ here would stand for ‘affected.’ But we incline to think it here means ‘one affecting a peculiar mode of speech,’ ‘one given to affectation.’ (18) Cataian. Cataia, or Cathay, was a name for China, whose people have the imputation of being dexterous cheats: hence the word “‘Cataian’”’ is believed to have been used as a term of re- proach, indicating a cheat; but from the manner in which Shake- speare has used it again elsewhere (“Twelfth Night,’ ii. 3), we should rather take it to mean something equivalent to outlandish, far-fetched, extravagant, eccentric. z (19) Very rogues. “ Very” is used to express thorough, veritable. See Note 27, Act iii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” Scene I] Enter Host. How now, mine host! Host. How now, bully-rook! thou’rt a gentle- man.—Cavalero-justice, I say ! Enter SHautow. Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow.—Good even, and twenty,” good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 97 weapons; and, I think, hath appointed them con- trary places ; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I tell you what our sport shall be. [They go aside. Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavalier ? Ford. None, I protest: but Pll give you a pottle*! of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook; only for a jest. iM ; i Af yn i i Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words. he think of us? Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice ; tell him bully- rook, Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor. Ford. Good mine host o’ the Garter, a word with you. Host. What sayest thou, my bully-rook? [They go aside. Shal. [To Paar] Will you go with us to behold it? My merry host hath had the measuring of their (20) Good eer and twenty. For ‘a good evening and twenty of _them.’ An old familiar form of salutation. (21) Pottle. From old French, potel. Originally, a measure con- taining two quarts, but familiarly used for a tankard or pot, from which wine or beer was drunk. (22) Will you go on, hearts? The Folio prints for this, ‘ Will you goe An-heires?’ Of which there have been several variations pro- posed ; but, to our thinking, none so probable as Steevens’s, the one 13 What doth Act II. Scene I. Host. My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress :—said I well ?—and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight.—Will you go on, hearts ?” Shal. Have with you, mine host. Page. I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier. Shal. Tut, sir! I could have told you more. In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what:* ’tis the heart, Master Page; ’tis here, ’tis here. I have seen the adopted by us in the text. “Hearts” is a term of address used by. mine Host (Act iii., sc. 2), and he calls Caius “heart of elder” (Act ii., se. 3). (23) "Passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what. Shallow has a fleer at these terms of rapier-fencing, while vaunting the feats done with the fashionable weapon of his youth—the long sword, which was often of such length as to require both hands used in raising it. 98 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. time, with my long sword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag ? Page. Have with you.—I had rather hear them scold than fight. [Hxzeunt Host, Srau., and Paes. Ford. Though Page be a _ secure™ fool, and stands so firmly on his wife’s frailty,” yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily: she was in his company at Page’s house; and what they made there, I know not. Well, I will look farther into’t; and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, *tis labour well bestowed. [ Heit. SCENE II.—A room in the Garter Inn. Enter Fatstarr and Pistou. Fal. I will not lend thee a penny. Pist. Why, then the world’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.— I will retort the sum in equipage.?” Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn: I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow,* Nym; or else you had looked through the grate, like a geminy”® of baboons. Tam doom’d for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers and tall fellows ;*° and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan,*! I took’t upon mine honour thou hadst it not. Pist. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fifteen pence ? Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason: thinkest thou Pll endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me; I am no gibbet for you :—go.—A short knife and a throng :**—to your manor of Pickt- hatch, ** go.—You’ll not bear a letter for me, you rogue !—you stand upon your honour !—Why, thou unconfinable. baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself, sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet, you, rogue, will ensconce*™ your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases,® and your bold- beating*® oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you! (24) Secwre. Used for ‘too well assured,’ ‘ over-confident.’ (25) .Frailty. It has been proposed to substitute ‘fealty ’ here. But “ frailty’ forms an antithesis with “ firmly,’ and is precisely oe Bhar that Ford would use, who has no belief in Mistress Page’s elity. (26) What they made there. A Saxon form of expression, signify- ing ‘what they did there.’ A similar phrase occurs in Act iv. 2, where Mistress Page asks, “What make you here?” meaning, “What do you do here?’ __(27) I will retort the sum in equipage. Pistol’s way of saying ‘I will repay the money in stolen goods.’ (28) Coach-fellow. From being applied to one of a pair of carriage-horses (as in Chapman’s “ Homer’’), the word came to mean one of two men who were partners in malpractices. (29) Geminy. Latin, gemini, twins. See the pest of having a false woman! My home shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn at, and I shall not only receive this villainous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Page is an ass, a secure (53) Iwill aggravate his style. ‘‘Style’’ is a technicality of the herald’s office, used in this-way ; and “aggravate ’’ is one of those verbs that Shakespeare employs so felicitously, blending various meanings in one expressive word. By “I will aggravate his style”’ Falstaff means he will augment Ford’s titles, and augment his aggravation. ' ‘ iy ne (ies i Wes KY \ \ SS A LS SAN KN NUYING) AN S ANUS in NS i er b Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fifteen pence P istol. P thinkest cene LI. 8 reason P Act IT. 18 you rogue, ll endanger my soul grati Reason, ’ Falstaff. thou I { CHAP ON: Pr Scene III. } ass: he will trust his wife; he will not be jealous. I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vite** bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself: then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises ; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for my jealousy !—Hleven o’clock the hour :— I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it; better three hours too soon, than a minute too late. [Hvit. SCENE IIL.—A field near Windsor. Enter Carus and Ruasy. Jack Rugby,— Sir? Caius. Rug. Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack? Rug. °Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh pro- mised to meet. Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come: he has pray his Pible vell, dat he is no come. By gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come. Rug. Heis wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill him, if he came. Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack ; I vill tell you how T vill kill him. Rug. Alas! sir, I cannot fence. Caius Villainy! take your rapier. Rug. Forbear; here’s company. Enter Host, SHattow, SLENDER, and Paar. Host. Bless thee, bully doctor ! Shal. Save you, Master Doctor Caius ! Page. Now, good master doctor! Slen. Give you good morrow, sir. Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for ? Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin,® to see thee traverse ; to see thee-here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy punto,” thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian ? is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully? What says my Aisculapius ? my Galen? my heart of elder ?*” ha! is he dead, bully Stale? is he dead? Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld; he is not show his face. Host. Thou art a Castalian king !* Greece, my boy! Hector of (54) 2 eee A general name for spirits, or strong waters; here probably meaning usquebaugh (an Erse word, signifying ‘water of life ’), a favourite Irish distilled liquor. (55) Foin. ‘To make a thrust in fencing. “Trayerse’’ means baffle by shifting place, foil by feints and cross purposes. (56) Punto. Italian, point. ‘“‘Stock” (stoccado), ‘‘ reverse”’ (reverso), and “‘montant” (montanto), are all terms derived from the Italian fencing-school. (57) Heart of elder. In contradistinction to ‘ heart of oak;’ elder- wood having nothing but soft pith at heart. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 103 Caius. I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. Shal. He is the wiser man, master doctor: he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair® of your professions. — Is it not true, Master Page ? Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace. Shal. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one. Though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page. Page. Tis true, Master Shallow. Shal. It will be found so, Master Page.—Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace: you have showed yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You must go with me, master doctor. Host. Pardon, guest-justice.—A word, Monsieur Mock-water. Caius. Mock-vater! vat is dat? Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. Caius. By gar, den, I have as mush mock-vater as de Englishman.—Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, me vill cut his ears. Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. Caius. Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat ? Host. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de- claw me; for, by gar, me vill have it. Host. And I will provoke him to’t, or let him wae. Caius. Me tank you for dat. Host. And, moreover, bully,—But first, master guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavalero Slender [aside to them], go you through the town to Frog- more. Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? Host. He is there: see what humour he is in; and I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well? Shal. We will do it. Page, Shal., and Slen. Adieu, good master doc- tor. [Hazeunt Pac, Suar., and SiEN. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. Host. let him die: sheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler: go about the fields with me through Frogmore: I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a-feasting ; (58) Castalian king. ‘ Castalian’’ is printed in the Folio ‘ Casta- lion,’ which some editors alter to ‘ Castilian,’ assuming the word to be used as a term of reproach after the defeat of the Spanish Armada: but we think the context, “ Hector of Greece,’ makes for “Castalian”’ being the Host’s epithet in allusion to the ‘ Castalian Spring ;’ as his rigmarole contains a jumble of references purposely confused, and apparently complimentary while really coarse and contemptuous. : ; (59) Against the hair. A familiar expression then, as now ‘against the grain ;’ contrary to the nature or quality. 104 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. and thou shalt woo her. Cried I aim? said I well ? Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat: by gar, I love you; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients. [Act ITT. Host. For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page. Said I well? Caius. By gar, ’tis good; vell said. Host. Let us wag, then. Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Haxeunt. ACCa neal SCENE I.—A field near Frogmore. Enter Str Hueu Evans and Simpte. Evans. I pray you now, good Master Slender’s serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic ? Sim. Marry, sir, the Pittie-ward,! the Park-ward, every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. Evans. I most fehemently desire you you will also look that way. Sim. I will, sir. [ Retires. Evans. Pless my soul, how full of cholers I am, and trempling of mind !—I shall be glad if he have deceived me :—how melancholies I am !—I will knog him about his knave’s costard? when I have goot opportunities for the ’ork :—Pless my soul !— [ Sings. To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals ; There will we make our peds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow— Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to ery.— ~ [Sings. Melodious birds sing madrigals ;— Whenas' I sat in Pabylon,— And a thousand vagram posies. To shallow,— Sim. [Coming forward] Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh. Evans. He’s welcome.— [ Sings. To shallow rivers, to whose falls— Heaven prosper the right !—What weapons is he ? Sim. No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frog- more, over the stile, this way. vans. Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms. [Reads in a book. (60) Cried Iaim? This in the Folio is misprinted ‘ Cride game.’ We have “cry aim’’ in Act iii., sc. 2, of this play: it was a term of encouragement used technically in archery, and familiarly in con- versation, to express incitement or approval. (1) Pittie-ward. Although there is now in Windsor no place known to bear this name, it was probably a locality then so called. Enter Pace, SHatiow, and SuenpErR. Shal. How now, master parson! Good mor- row, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful. Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page ! Page. Save you, good Sir Hugh! Fivans. Pless you from his mercy’s sake, all of ou! : Shal. What, the sword and the word! do you study them both, master parson ? Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose this raw rheumatic day ? Fwans. There is reasons and causes for it. Page. We are come to you to do a good office, master parson. Evans. Fery well: what is it? Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw. Shal. I have lived fourscore years and upward ; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learn- ing, so wide of his own respect. Evans. What is he? Page. I think you know him; Master Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician. Evans. Ot’s will, and passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of por- ridge. Page. Why? fivans. He has no more knowledge in Hibbo- crates and Galen,—and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave as you would desires to be ac- quainted withal. Page. I warrant you, he’s the man should fight with him. Slen. Oh, sweet Anne Page! Shal. It appears so, by his weapons.—Keep them asunder :—here comes Doctor Caius. Pipers oo: An old contemptuous term for the head; as is ce no en (3) Whenas. An old form of ‘when;’ as ‘whereas’ still is of ‘where.’ Sir Hugh, in his agonies of alternate wrath and fear, mixes up this line from an old version of the 187th Psalm with those of a pastoral song by Marlowe. en ee Se ie Te oa > ae re ee eR een Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack; 1 vill tell you how I vill kill him. Rugby. Alas! sir, I cannot fence. Act II. Scene III. 14 Scene IT.] Enter Host, Carus, and Ruasy. Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon. Shal. So do you, good master doctor. Host. Disarm them, and let them question: let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English. Caius. I pray you, let-ame speak a word vit your ear. Verefore vill you not meet-a me? Evans. Pray you, use your patience: in goot time. _ Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. Evans. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other men’s humours ; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends :—I will knog you about your knave’s cogscomb for missing your meetings and appointments. Caius. Diable!—Jack Rugby,—mine host de Jarretiere,—have I not stay for him to kill him? have I not, at de place I did appoint ? Evans. As Tama Christian soul, now, look you, this is the place appointed: Pll be judgment by mine host of the Garter. Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Guallia, French and Welsh, soul-curer and body-curer ! Caius. Ay, dat is very good ; excellent. Host. Peace, I say ! hear mine host of the Garter. Am I politic? am I subtle ? am Ia Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the lotions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the no- verbs.—Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so.—Give me thy hand, celestial ; so. Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue.—Come, lay their swords to pawn.—Follow me, lad of peace;* follow, follow, follow. Shal. Trust me, amad host.—Follow, gentlemen, follow. Slen. Oh, sweet Anne Page ! [Ezeunt Suau., SLEN., Pace, and Host. Caius. Ha, do I perceive dat? have you make-a de sot® of us, ha, ha ? Evans. This is well; he has made us his vlouting- stog.—I desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together to be revenge on this same scall,® scurvy, cogging companion,’ the host of the Garter. Caius. By gar, vit all my heart. He promise to bring me vere is Anne Page: by gar, he deceive me too. Evans. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow. [ Exeunt. (4) Lad of peace. “Lad” has been changed to ‘lads;’ but “lad of peace” is mine Host’s style of address for Shallow, whose title is ‘justice of peace, and who has been mentioned as “a man of peace,” “old and of the peace,” and “sworn of the peace,” in Act li., sc. 3. (5) Sot. French, fool. (6) Scall. A breaking out on the head; used as an opprobrious epithet. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 107 SCENE I1.—A street in Windsor. Enter Mistress Pace and Rosi. Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant: you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes, or eye your master’s heels ? Rob. ILhad rather, forsooth, go before you like a man, than follow him like a dwarf. Mrs. Page. Oh, you are a flattering boy: now I see you'll be a courtier. Enter Forp. Ford. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you ? Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home? Ford. Ay; andas idle as she may hang together, for want of company. I think, if your husbands were dead, you two would marry. Mrs. Page. Be sure of that,—two other hus- bands. Ford. Where had you this pretty weather- cock ? Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my husband had him of.—What do you call your knight’s name, sirrah ? Rob. Sir John Falstaff. Ford. Sir John Falstaff! Mrs. Page. He, he; I can never hit on’s name. —There is such a league between my good man and he !—Is your wife at home indeed ? Ford. Indeed she is. Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir: I am sick till I see her. [Hxeunt Mistress Pace and Rosin. Ford. Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes ? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point- blank twelve score. He pieces out his wife’s inclina- tion ; he gives her folly motion and advantage: and now she’s going to my wife, and Falstaff’s boy with ‘her :—a man may hear this shower sing in the wind : —and Falstaff’s boy with her!—Good plots !—they are laid; and our revolted wives share perdition to- gether. Well; I will take him, then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming*® Mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Acteon; and to these violent proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim.° [Clock strikes.| The clock gives me my cue, and my assur- ance bids me search: there I shall find Falstaff: I shall be rather praised for this than mocked ; for it is as positive as the earth is firm, that Falstaff is there: I will go. (7) Cogging companion. “ Cogging”’ is lying, falsifying. “‘Com- panion”’ was used contemptuously, as ‘ fellow’ is now. (8) So seeming. This has been explained to mean ‘specious:’” but we take it to be one of the instances where Shakespeare refers to an implied particular; and as he has just used the words “veil of modesty,” he means by “ the’so seeming Mistress Page”’ ‘ Mistress Page who seems so,’—that is, ‘ modest.’ (9) Cry aim. See Note 60, Act ii. 108 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Enter Paar, SHattow, SteNpER, Host, Str Hueu Evans, Carus, and Ruasy. Shal., Page, &e. Well met, Master Ford. ford. Trust me, a good knot: I have good cheer at home ; and I pray you all go with me. Shal. I must excuse myself, Master Ford. Slen. And so must I, sir: we have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for more money than I’ll speak of. Shal. We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have our answer. Slen. I hope I have your good will, father Page. Page. You have, Master Slender; I stand wholly for you:—but my wife, master doctor, is for you altogether. Caius. Ay, by gar; and de maid is love-a me; my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush. Host. What say you to young Master Fenton? he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday,'? he smells April and May:"' he will carry’t, he will carry’t; ’tis in his buttons ;” he will carry’t. Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman ‘is of no having:'? he kept company with the wild prince and Poins; he is of too high a region; he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of my substance: if he take her, let him take her simply ; the wealth I have waits on my consent, and my consent goes not that way. Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you go home with me to dinner: besides your cheer, you shall have sport ; I will show you a monster.—Master doctor, you shall go ;—so shall you, Master Page ;— and you, Sir Hugh. Shal. Well, fare you well:—we shall have the freer wooing at Master Page’s. [Exeunt Suan. and Sien. Caius. Go home, John Rugby; I come anon. [ Fait Ruesy. Host. Farewell, my hearts: I will to my honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him. [ Heit. Ford. [Aside] I think I shall drink in pipe- wine" first with him; I’ll make him dance.—Will you go, gentles ? All. Have with you to see this monster. [ Exeunt. (10) Speaks holiday. Speaks in a style more choice and refined than is of common use: as bettermost clothes are worn on holiday occasions. (11) Smells April and May. It was a form of expression to omit the ‘of’? in such a phrase; and to ‘smell of April and ‘ase is tantamount. to having an air of spring-time about im. jf (22) ’Tis in his buttons. A phrase equivalent to ‘it is in him to do it;’ “he is quite capable of sucha thing ;’ ‘’tis within his compass.’ (13) Having. Possession, property, income. (14) Pipe-wine. Wine drawn directly from the pipe or cask. There is a play on the word; because the Host having spoken of “canary” (the name of a dance, as well as of a wine), Ford says he will pipe to Falstaff’s dancing, or tease him to sucha tune as shall make him stamp with rage. [Acr ILL. SCENE III.—A room in Forn’s house. Enter Mistress Forp and Misrress Page. Mrs. Ford. What, John! What, Robert! Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly: is the buck- basket !°— Mrs. Ford. I warrant.—What, Robin, I say! Linter Servants with a large basket. Mrs. Page. Come, come, come. Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down. Mrs. Page. Give your men the charge; we must be brief. Mrs. Ford. Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brew-house; and when I suddenly call you, come forth, and, without any pause or staggering, take this basket on your shoulders: that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters!® in Datchet- mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side. Mrs. Page. You will do it? Mrs. Ford. I have told them over and over; they lack no direction.—Begone, and come when you are called. [Kxeunt Servants. Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin. Enter Rosin. Mrs. Ford. How now, my eyas-musket!!7 what news with you ? Rob. My master, Sir John, is come in at your back-door, Mistress Ford, and requests your com- pany. Mrs. Page. been true to us ? Rob. Ay, Vl be sworn. My master knows not of your being here, and hath threatened to put me into everlasting liberty, if I tell you of it; for he swears he’ll turn me away. Mrs. Page. Thou’rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new doublet and hose.—I’ll go hide me. Mrs. Ford. Do so.—Go tell thy master I am alone.—Mistress Page, remember you your cue. | Kxit Rosin. Mrs. Page. I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me. [ Exit. Mrs. Ford. Go to, then: we’ll use this unwhole- some humidity, this gross watery pumpion; we'll teach him to know turtles from jays." You little Jack-a-Lent,'* have you (15) Buck-basket. A large basket used to carry linen for bucking, or washing. ‘“‘ Buck” has been derived either from Gothic, bucka, to beat (it being customary to beat linen when washed); or from the Italian, bucato, lie, a saline substance used in washing. (16) Whitsters. Bleachers of linen. (17) Eyas-musket. “‘ Musket”’ is from the old French mouschet or mousquet, a male sparrow-hawk ; and “eyas” means a nestling, or unfledged bird, from the French nias, or niais. It is easy to see how by mal-pronunciation ‘a nias’ became corrupted into ‘an “eyas:”’’ and most of our terms in hawking or falconry were derived from the French. The epithet is here jocosely applied to a small boy. (18) Jack-a-Lent. A puppet thrown at during Lent, as cocks were at Shrovetide. The word occurs again in Act v., se. 5. (19) Turtles from jays. Faithful women from unfaithful ones. Yip Jiftigssis hae Scrnez IIT.] Enter Faustarr. Fal. “Have I caught my heavenly jewel?” Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough ; this is the period of my ambition: oh, this blessed hour! Mrs. Ford. Oh, sweet Sir John! Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog,?' I cannot THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 109 Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, Sir John, my brows become nothing else ; nor that well neither. Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute courtier; and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait, in a semicircled farthingale.*? I see what thou wert, if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature thy friend. Come, thou canst not hide it. Visi iip ize ‘Ty yall ‘ (QUWSDIS LLY Fal. ‘Have I caught my heavenly jewel prate, Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish, —I would thy husband were dead: [ll speak it before the best lord—I would make thee my lady. Mrs. Ford. I your lady, Sir John! alas! I should be a pitiful lady! Fal. Let the court of France show me such another. I see how thine eye would emulate the diamond: thou hast the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance.” (20) “ Have I caught my heavenly jewel?’’ The first line of the second song in Sydney’s ‘Astrophel and Stella.’ It is pleasant to have Shakespeare thus quoting his contemporary poet-friends, Christopher Marlowe and Sir Philip Sydney. (21) I cannot cog. I cannot talk falsely, fawn, or flatter. (22) Ship-tire, the ture-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance. Head-dresses of various kinds then in vogue : the “ ship-tire ” we may imagine of naval character, with flaunting ribbons like 2” Act ITI. Scene III, Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there’s no such thing in me. Fal. What made me love thee? let that per- suade thee there’s something extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds, that come like women in men’s apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple-time ;* I cannot: but I love thee; none but thee ; and thou deservest it. Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir. I fear you love Mistress Page. stréamers or pennants; the “tite-valiant”’ of military air; and the ‘Venetian tire’ was a style favoured by the ladies of Venice. « Admittance’? means received fashion or mode. (23) Farthingale. A hoop for distending the skirts of the dress. (24) Nature thy friend. ‘Being’ must be understood before “thy,” in this elliptical phrase. (25) Bucklersbury in_ simple-time. Bucklersbury was the chief mart for medicinal herbs, or “ simples” as they were then called. 110 ‘al. Thou mightest as well say I iove to walk by the Counter-gate,” which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln. Mrs. Ford. Well, Heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one day find it. Fal. Keep in that mind; I’ll deserve it. Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could not be in that mind. Rob. [Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! here’s Mistress Page at the door, sweating, and blow- ing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently. Fal. She shall not see me: I will ensconce me behind the arras.?’ Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so: she’s a very tattling woman.— [Faustarr hides himself behind the arras. Re-enter Mistress Pace and Rosin. What’s the matter ? how now! Mrs. Page. Oh, Mistress Ford, what have you done? You’re shamed, you’re overthrown, you’re undone for ever! Mrs. Ford. Page ? Mrs. Page. Oh, well-a-day, Mistress Ford! hay- ing an honest man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion ! Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion ? Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion ?—Out upon you! how am I mistook in you! Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! what’s the matter ? Mrs. Page. Your husband’s coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that he says is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of his absence : you are undone. Mrs. Ford. ’*Tis not so, I hope. Mrs. Page. Pray Heaven it be not so, that you have such a man here! but *tis most certain your husband’s coming, with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I come before to tell you. If you know yourself clear, why, Iam glad of it; but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not amazed ; call all your senses to you; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever. Mrs. Ford. What shall I do ?—There is a gentle- man, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own shame so much as his peril: I had rather than a thousand pound, he were out of the house. Mrs. Page. For shame! never stand “ you had rather ” and ‘you had rather: ” your husband’s here at hand; bethink you of some conveyance: in the house you cannot hide him.—Oh, how have you deceived me!—Look, here is a basket: if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to What’s the matter, good Mistress (26) The Counter-gate. The gate of the Counter-prison, which closed relentlessly upon unconscionable debtors, might well have terrors for Falstaff. (27) Behind the arras. The space left between walls and the wooden frames on which arras-hangings, or tapestry, were stretched, formed a sufficiently commodions hiding-place for even Falstaff. (28) Whiting-time. Season for bleaching. THE MERRY WIVES . bucking : OF WINDSOR. [Acr LIT. or, it is whiting-time,* send him by your two men to Datchet-mead. Mrs. Ford. He’s too big to go in there. shall I do? What Re-enter FaustaFr. Fal. Let me see’t, let me see’t; oh! let me see’t !—TU in, P'll in :—follow your friend’s counsel: PU in. Mrs. Page. What, Sir John Falstaff! your letters, knight? Fal. I love thee, and none but thee; help me away: let me creep in here. Ill never— (He gets into the basket ; they cover him with foul linen. Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy.— Call your men, Mistress Ford.—You dissembling knight ! [| Hait Rowrn. Mrs. Ford. What, John! Robert! John! Are these Re-enter Servants. Go take up these clothes here quickly :—where’s the cowl-staff?*? look, how you drumble !*°—carry them to the laundress in Datchet-mead ; quickly, come. Enter Forp, Pace, Carus, and Str Hueu Evans. Ford. Pray you, come near: if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me; then let me be your jest ; I deserve it.—How now! what goes here? whither bear you this? Serv. To the laundress, forsooth. Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck- washing. Ford. Buck!—I would I could wash myself of the buck !—Buck, buck, buck? Ay, buck; I war- rant you, buck; and of the season too, it shall appear. [Hzeunt Servants with the basket.|—Gen- tlemen, I have dreamed to-night; Ili tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys: ascend my chambers; search, seek, find out: [ll warrant we'll unkennel the fox.—Let me stop this way first.—So, now uncape.*! Page. Good Master Ford, be contented: you wrong yourself too much. Ford. True, Master Page.—Up, gentlemen; you shall see sport-anon: follow me, gentlemen. [Hzit. Evans. This is fery fantastical humours and jealousies. Caius. By gar, ’tis no de fashion of France; it is not jealous in France. Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen; see the issue of his search. [Hxeunt Pacn, Carus, and Evans. Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this ? Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir John. (29) Cowl-staff. The long pole used for carrying a tub (called a “cowl’’) or basket with two handles, borne on the shoulders of two men. (30) Drwmble. Move sluggishly, loiter; equivalent to the more modern ‘dawdle.’ A drone is still called provincially a ‘ drumble- bee ;’ signifying its heavy, lazy movement. (31) Uncape. An old term of the chase for ‘ unearth.’ Scenz IV.] THE Mrs. Page. husband asked what was in the basket !*” Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of washing ; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit. Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the same strain® were in the same distress. Mrs. Ford. I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff’s being here; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now. Mrs. Page. Iwill lay a plot to try that ; and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff: his dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine. Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water; and give him another hope, to be- tray him to another punishment ? Mrs. Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to-morrow, eight o’clock, to have amends. Re-enter Forp, Pace, Carus, and Str Huen Evans. Ford. I cannot find him: may be the knave bragged of that he could not compass. Mrs. Page. {Aside to Mistress Forp] Heard you that ? Mrs. Ford. you? Ford. Ay, Ido so. Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your thoughts ! Ford. Amen! Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford. Ford. Ay, ay; I must bear it. Evans. If there be anypody in the house, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, Heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment ! Caius. By gar, nor I too: dere is no bodies. Page. Fie, fie, Master Ford! are you not ashamed? What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not have your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle. Ford. ’Tis my fault,’ Master Page: I suffer for it. Evans. You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is as honest a ’omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too. Caius. By gar, I see ’tis an honest woman. Ford. Well;—I promised you a dinner,—come, come, walk in the Park: I pray you, pardon me; I will hereafter make known to you, why I have done this.—Come, wife ;—come, Mistress Page.—I pray you, pardon me; pray heartily, pardon me. You use me well, Master Ford, do (32) Asked what was in the basket. The Folio and other old copies misprint ‘who’ for “what;” but Ford had no suspicion of any person being in the basket, and ‘who’ was often mis- printed for “what.” Moreover, the passage where Falstaff after- wards says, “Their master asked them once or twice what _they had in their basket” (Act iii., sc. 5), makes for our reading. Many commentators have pointed out that in point of fact this question had not been asked at all; but Shakespeare frequently gives a repetition passage with this kind of variation, precisely tallying with what we find in actual occurrence. Here, for in- stance, Ford has inquired, “ How now! What goes here? Whither bear you this?” evidently challenging the contents of the basket, MERRY WIVES What a taking was he in, when your | OF WINDSOR. 111 Page. Let’s go in, gentlemen; but, trust me, we'll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast: after, we’ll a birding together; I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so? Ford. Anything. Evans. If there is one, I shall make two in the company. Caius. If dere be one or two, I shall make-a de tird. Ford. Pray you, go, Master Page. Evans. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow on the scurvy knave, mine host. Caius. Dat is good; by gar, vit all my heart. Evans. A scurvy knave, to have his gibes, and his mockeries ! [ Hveunt. SCENE IV.—A room in Pace’s house. Enter Frnnton and ANNE PaGeE. Fent. I see I cannot get thy father’s love ; Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. Anne. Alas! how then? Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. He doth object, I am too great of birth ; And that, my state being gall’d with my expense, I seek to heal it only by his wealth. Besides these, other bars he lays before me,— My riots past, my wild societies ; And tells me, ’tis a thing impossible I should love thee but as a property. Anne. May be he tells you true. Fent. No, Heaven so speed me in my time to come! © Albeit I will confess, thy father’s wealth Was the first motive that I woo’d thee, Anne: Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealéd bags ; And ’tis the very riches of thyself That now I aim at. Anne. Gentle Master Fenton, Yet seek my father’s love; still seek it, sir: Tf opportunity and humblest suit Cannot attain it, why, then—Hark you hither. [They converse apart. Enter Suattow, SLENDER, and MistREss QUICKLY. Shal. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly: my kinsman shall speak for himself. as the servants carry it out; for his wife jeeringly demands why he “meddles” with “buck-washing.”’ To object that Mistress Page does not repeat the exact words said on the occasion, is as wise as if objection were made at her observing, “ What a taking was he mM, when your husband asked,” &c., on the ground that she could not see or know how dismayed Falstaff was, since he was hidden beneath the heap of linen. This way of giving the spirit of a hurried incident, instead of its letter, is in that perfect accordance with nature and truth which belongs almost solely to Shakespeare. (33) All of the same strain. All those possessed of the same vicious tendency, propensity, or inclination. (34) °Tis my fault. Itis my misfortune. See Note 14, Act i. 112 THE MERRY Slen. Tl make a shaft or a bolt on’t. Slid, *tis but venturing. Shal. Be not dismayed. Slen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care not for that,—but that I am afeard. Quick. Hark ye; Master Slender would speak a word with you. Anne. Icome to him.—| Aside] This is my father’s choice. Oh, what a world of vile, ill-favour’d faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! Quick, And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a word with you. Shal. She’s coming; to her, coz. Oh, boy, thou hadst a father ! Slen. I had a father, Mistress Anne ;—my uncle can tell you good jests of him.—Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle. Shal. Mis‘ress Anne, my cousin loves you. Slen. Ay, that I do; as well as I love any woman in Glo’stershire. Shal. He will maintain you like a _ gentle- woman. Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail,” under the degree of a squire. Shal. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure. Anne. (Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself. Shal. Marry, I thank you for it; I thank you for that good comfort.—She calls you, coz: Pll leave you. Anne. Slen. Now, Master Slender,— Now, good Mistress Anne,— Anne. What is your will? Slen. My will! od’s heartlings, that’s a pretty jest indeed! I ne’er made my will’ yet, I thank Heaven; I am not such a sickly creature, I give Heaven praise. Anne. I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me? Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing with you. Your father and my uncle have made motions: if it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be his dole!*” They can tell you how things go, better than I can: you may ask your father; here he comes. Enter Pace and Misrress Pace. Page. Now, Master Slender :—love him, daughter Anne.— Why, how now! what does Master Fenton here ? _(35) TU make a shaft or a bolt on’t. A proverbial phrase signi- fying ‘I'll do it either cleverly or clumsily,’ ‘hit or miss;’ the “shaft”? being a sharp arrow used by skilful archers; the “ bolt,” a blunt one employed merely to shoot birds with. (36) Come cut and long-tail. A proverbial expression equivalent to “whatever kind may come;’ “cut and long-tail” referring to dogs and horses with docked or undocked tails. The characteristic way in which this bumpkin squire interlards his speech with illus- trations borrowed from the stud and the kennel, from country sports and pursuits, is worth observing. (37) Happy man be his dole. A common saying. which means, WIVES OF WINDSOR. [Acr ITI. You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house : I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos’d of. Fent. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. Mrs. Page. Good Master Fenton, come not to my child. Page. She is no match for you. Fent. Sir, will you hear me? Page. No, good Master Fenton.— Come, Master Shallow ; come, son Slender ; in.— Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton. [Heeunt Paar, SHau., and Suen. Quick. Speak to Mistress Page. ent. Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter In such a righteous fashion as I do, Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, I must advance the colours of my love, And not retire: let me have your good will. Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yond’ fool. Mrs. Page. I mean it not; I seek you a better husband. Quick, That’s my master, master doctor. Anne. Alas! I had rather be set quick i’? the earth, And bowl’d to death with turnips ! Mrs. Page. Come, trouble not yourself.—Good Master Fenton, I will not be your friend nor enemy : My daughter will I question how she loves you, And as I find her, so am I affected. Till then, farewell, sir: she must needs go in; Her father will be angry. Fent. Farewell, gentle mistress :—farewell, Nan. [Heeunt Mistress Pace and ANNE. Quick. This is my doing now:—“< Nay,” said I, “will you cast away your child on a fool, and a physician? #8 Look on Master Fenton:”—this is my doing. Fent. I thank thee; and I pray thee, once to- night %° Give my sweet Nan this ring. pains. Quick. Now Heaven send thee good fortune! [Heit Fenton.] A kind heart he hath: a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I would my master had Mistress Anne; or I would Master Slender had her; or, in sooth, I would Master Fenton had her: I will do what I can for them all three ; for so I have promised, and T’ll be as good as my word; but speciously* for Master Fenton. Well, 1 must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my two mistresses: what a beast am I to slack" it. [ Heit. There’s for thy “may happiness be his lot.’ Here Slender magnanimously applies it to the any-body-else who may succeed better than himself in winning Anne Page. (38) A fool, and a physician? Meaning Master Slender and Dr. Caius. It is just in Mrs. Quickly’s blundering way to couple these two suitors by an “and” instead of an ‘or,’ as if the young lady could be given to both, when the speaker means to either. (39) Once to-night. “Once” was occasionally used to designate an indefinite time; some time, one time or other. (40) Speciously. Her mistake for ‘ specially.’ (41) Slack. Neglect, delay attending to. Scunz V.] SCENE V.—A room in the Garter Inn. Enter Fatstarr and BarpourpH. Fal. Bardolph, I say,— Bard. Here, sir. Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in’t. [Hit Barp.] Have I lived to be carried in a THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 113 thing should I have been when I had been swelled ! I should have been a mountain of mummy. Re-enter Barpouex with the wine. Bard. Here’s Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you. Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack to the Fal. Now, Master Brook,—you come to know what hath passed between me and Ford’s wife ? Ford. That, indeed, Sir John, is my business. basket, like a barrow of butcher’s offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick, ll have my brains ta’en out, and buttered, and give them to a dog for a new year’s gift. The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drowned a bitch’s blind puppies,* fifteen i the litter: and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as ocean, I should down. I had been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and shallow;—a death that I abhor; for the water swells a man; and what a (42) Sack. A very ancient name for a favourite wine, known in various countries, and called similarly in their different languages. It was of dry (French, sec) or rough quality; and was sometimes sweetened with sugar, sometimes mulled or warmed, sometimes “brewed” or compounded, with eggs, spice, or other additions to suit particular palates. 15 Act III. Scene V. Thames water; for my paunch is as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs for pills to cool the reins. Call her in, Bard. Come in, woman! Enter Mistress Quickiy. Quick. By your leave; I ery you mercy :—give your worship good morrow. Fal. Take away these chalices.“* Go brew me a pottle of sack finely. Bard. With eggs, sir? (43) A bitch’s blind puppies. Misprinted in the Folio ‘a blind bitch’s puppies. This transposition is more likely to be a mistake of the printer, than a purposed inversion of the writer. (44) Chalices. Cups; those in which his first-ordered wine, with “a, toast in’t,’ had been served to Falstaff. 114 Fal. Simple of itself; Tl no pullet-sperm in my brewage. [KHzit Barpotrx.] How now! Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mistress Ford. Fal. Mistress Ford! Ihave had ford enough ; I was thrown into the ford; I have my fill of ford. Quick. Alas! the day; good heart, that was not her fault: she does so take on with her men; they mistook their erection. Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish woman’s promise. Quick. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning a birding; she desires you once more to come to her between eight and nine. I must carry her word, quickly: she’ll make you amends, I warrant you. Fal. Well, I will visit her: tell her so; and bid her think what a man is: let her consider his frailty, and then judge of my merit. Quick. I will tell her. Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten, sayest thou? Quick. Hight and nine, sir. Fal. Well, be gone: I will not miss her. Quick. Peace be with you, sir. [ Exit. Fal. I marvel I hear not of Master Brook; he sent me word to stay within. I like his money well. Oh, here he comes. Enter Forp. Ford. Bless you, sir! Fal. Now, Master Brook,—you come to know what hath passed between me and Ford’s wife ? Ford. That, indeed, Sir John, is my business. Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you: I was at her house the hour she appointed me. Ford. And sped you, sir? Fal. Very ill-favouredly, Master Brook. Ford. How so, sir? Did she change her deter- mination ? Fal. No, Master Brook; but the peaking cornuto her husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual ‘larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thither provoked and instigated by his distemper, and, for- sooth, to search his house for his wife’s love. Ford. What, while you were there ? Fal. While I was there. Ford. And did he search for you, and could not find you? Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page; gives intelligence of (45) Distraction. It has been proposed to substitute ‘direc- tion’ for this word; but Shakespeare sometimes uses it for no stronger signification than perturbation, agitation, flurry. See the sense in which Falstaff uses it (Act ii., se. 2), where he says, “This news distracts me!” and where his emotion is that of de- lighted agitation. (46) Ford’s knaves, his hinds. “ Knave’’ was formerly often used simply for lad or servant; from the German knabe, a boy. “ Hind”’ is from the Saxon hine, a servant. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. [Acr IIT. Ford’s approach; and, in her invention, and Ford’s wife’s distraction, they conveyed me into a buck- basket. Ford. A buck-basket ! Fal. Yes, a buck-basket !—rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy napkins ; that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril. Ford. And how long lay you there ? Fal. Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford’s knaves, his hinds,‘* were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet Lane. They took me on their shoulders; met the jealous knave their master in the door, who asked them once or twice what they had in their basket. I quaked for fear, lest the lunatic knave would have searched it; but fate, ordaining he should be a gull, held his hand. Well; on went he for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook: I suffered the pangs of three several deaths ; first, an intolerable fright,” to be detected with a jealous rotten bell-wether; next, to be compassed, like a good bilbo,** in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease: think of that,—a man of my kidney,—think of that, —that am as subject to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw ;—it was a miracle to *scape suffocation. And in the height of this bath, when I was more than half stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe ; think of that,—hissing hot,—think of that, Master Brook. Ford. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you have suffered all this. My suit, then, is desperate ; you'll undertake her no more ? Fal. Master Brook, I will be thrown into Attna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a birding : I have received from her another embassy of meet- ing; *twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook. Ford. Tis past eight already, sir. Fal. Is it? Iwill then address me* to my ap- pointment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crowned with your obtaining her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master Brook; Master Brook, you shall cozen Ford. [ Feit. Ford. H’m,—ha! is this a vision? is this a dream? do I sleep? Master Ford, awake! awake, (47) An intolerable fright, to be detected with a, &c. Meaning, ‘an intolerable fear lest I should be discovered by a,’ &e. “ With” was frequently used where ‘by’ would now be employed. An instance where “with” is used instead of ‘of,’ occurs in Act iv., sc. 4, when Ford says, “ I sooner will suspect the sun with cold, than thee with wantonness.’’ (48) A good bilbo. The excellence of sword-blades made at Bilboa consisted in their flexibility, elasticity, and fine temper. (49) Address me. Prepare me, make myself ready. Scene I. | Master Ford! there’s a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford. This *tis to be married! this ’tis to have linen and buck-baskets !—Well, I will proclaim myself what I am: I will now take the rascal; he is at my house; he cannot ’scape me; ‘tis impossible A. CT SCENE I.—The street. Enter Mistress Pacer, Quickty, and Wi11AM. Mrs. Page. Is he at Master Ford’s already, thinkest thou ? Quick. Sure he is by this, or will be presently ; but, truly, he is very courageous mad! about his throwing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly. Mrs. Page. Vl be with her by-and-by ;* Pll but bring my young man here to school. Look, where his master comes; ’tis a playing day, I see. Enter Str Hucu Evans. How now, Sir Hugh! no school to-day ? Evans. No; Master Slender is get the boys leave to play.’ Quick. Blessing of his heart ! Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book. I pray you, ask him some questions in his accidence. Evans. Come hither, William; hold up your head; come. Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your master, be not afraid. Evans. William, how many numbers is in nouns? Will. ‘Two. Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say, “ Od’s nouns.” Evans. Peace your tattlings—What is fair, William ? Will. Pulcher. Quick. Polecats! there are fairer things than polecats, sure. Evans. You are a very simplicity “oman: I pray you, peace.— What is lapis, William ? Will. A stone. Evans. And what is a stone, William ? Will. A pebble. Evans. No, it is lapis: I pray you, remember in your prain. Will. Lapis. (1) Courageous mad. “Courageous” is Quickly’s blunder for ‘outrageous;’ and we have seen that she uses “ mad’’ for enraged, infuriated. See Note 65, Act i. (2) By-and-by. Was often used for immediately, directly, at once, without delay. : (3) Is get the boys leave to play. The Folio has ‘let’ instead of THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 115 he should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, nor into a pepper-box ; but, lest the devil that guides him shall aid him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not, shall not make me tame. [ Eait. EVE. Evans. That is a good William. What is he, William, that does lend articles ? Will. Articles are borrowed of the pronoun, and be thus declined, Singulariter, nominativo, hic, hee, hoc. Evans. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog ;—pray you, mark: genitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accusa- tive case? Will. Accusativo, hunc. Evans. I pray you, have your remembrance, child; accusativo, hung, hang, hog. Quick. Hang-hogis Latin for bacon, I warrant you. Evans. Leave your prabbles, ’oman.—What is the focative case, William ? Will. O,—vocativo, O. Evans. Remember, William ; focative is caret. Quick. And that’s a good root. Evans. ’Oman, forbear. Mrs. Page. Peace! Evans. What is your genitive case plural, William? Will. Genitive case? Evans. Ay. Will. Genitivo,—horum, harum, horwm. Quick. Vengeance of Jenny’s case! fie on her! never name her, child. Evans. For shame, ’oman. Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words: —he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves :—fie upon you! Evans. *Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no understandings for thy cases, and the numbers, and the genders? ‘Thou art as foolish Christian crea- tures as I would desires. Mrs. Page. Pr’ythee, hold thy peace. Evans. Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns. Will. Forsooth, I have forgot. Evans. It is qui, que, quod: if you forget your quis, your ques, and your quods, you must be whipped. Go your ways, and play; go. Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was. Evans. He is a good sprag memory.* Mistress Page. Farewell, “ get,’ which latter word is one of the few excellent substitutions of Mr. Collier’s MS. Corrector. That Master Slender should obtain a holiday for the schoolboys is most natural; but he could hardly allow them to play: and it is not a particular in which the school. master would blunder. (4) He is a good sprag memory. The Welsh Parson’s way of —— 116 Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. [Hzit Sir Hven.|—Get you home, boy.—Come, we stay too long. [ Kveunt. SCENE II.—A room in Forp’s house. Enter Faustarr and Mistress Forp. Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious® in your love, and I profess requital toa hair’s breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, complement, and cere- mony of it. But are you sure of your husband now ? Mrs. Ford. He’s a birding, sweet Sir John. Mrs. Page. [Within] What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho! Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John. [Hait Faustarr. Enter Mistress Pacer. Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart! who’s at home besides yourself ? Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. Mrs. Page. Indeed? Mrs. Ford. No, certainly.—[Aside to her] Speak louder. Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here. Mrs. Ford. Why? Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes® again: he so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails against all married mankind; so curses all Hve’s daughters, of what complexion sgo- ever; and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying, “Peer out, peer out!” that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility, and patience, to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight is not here. Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him ? Mrs. Page. Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket: protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspicion. But I am glad the knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery. Mrs. Ford. How near is he, Mistress Page? Mrs. Page. Hard by; at street end: he will be here anon. Mrs. Ford. Iam undone !—the knight is here. Mrs. Page. Why, then, you are utterly shamed, and he’s but a dead man. What a woman are you! saying, “He has a good sprack memory;’ ‘sprack’ meaning quick, brisk, ready, from the Swedish spraeg. (5) Obsequious. Here used in its combined sense of diligent to please, and mournfully dutiful as those performing obsequies or funeral observances. (6) Tunes. Lunacy; moon-struck fancies, mad freaks. (7) What make you here? See Note 26, Act ii. —— ee ee THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. [Acr IV. —Away with him, away with him! better shame, than murder. Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? how should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket again ? Re-enter Faustarr. mh Fal. No, Pll come no more i’ the basket. May I not go out ere he come? Mrs. Page. Alas! three of Master Ford’s bro- thers watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here ?? Fal. What shall I do?—I’ll creep up into the chimney. Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge their birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole. Fal. Where is it? Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract* for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note: there is no hiding you in the house. Fal. Tl go out, then. Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised,— Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him ? Mrs. Page. Alas! the day; I know not. There is nO woman’s gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a hat, a muftler,? and a kerchief, and SO escape. Fal. Good hearts, devise something: any ex- tremity, rather than a mischief. Mrs. Ford. My maid’s aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above. Mrs. Page. Onmy word, it will serve him; she’s as big as he is: and there’s her thrummed hat,'° and her muffler too.—Run up, Sir John. Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and I will look some linen! for your head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight: put on the gown the while. [Hwit Fausvarr. Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears she’s a witch; forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her. Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband’s cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards ! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming ? Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness is he; and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence. Mrs. Ford. We'll try that; for Tl appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time. Mrs. Page. Nay, but he’ll be here presently: let’s go dress him like the witch of Brentford. Mrs, Ford. ll first direct my men what they (8) An abstract. A concise list, or inventory ; a brief catalogue. (9) A muffler. A portion of woman’s attire that covered the lower part of the face. (10) Thrummed hat. A ‘thrum’ is the end of a weaver’s web; and a “thrummed hat’’ was made of coarse woollen cloth, composed of thrums. (11) Look some linen. “ Look” was sometimes used without the ed by T, ROBINSON gran En » by C. ROBINSON, raw FALSTAFF AND FORD. Out of my door, you witch, Ford. Ti . Scene i Act IV ““MeRRY WIVES oF WINDSOR,” —[As Act I sweetheart ! ly. none but mine own people. id Indeed P who’s at home Ss 1 WKS ) le to her] Speak 2 —= Z Z V. Scene II. ; certain AN ll How now, P Why, No, é. Ford louder. : . Mrs. Page \ ) SN besides yourself \ Mrs. Ford Mrs. Pag Mrs. Scenz IL] shall do with the basket. for him straight. [ Hwit. Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse him enough. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, Wives may be merry, and yet honest too: We do not act, that often jest and laugh ; "Tis old, but true,— Still swine eat all the draff.” [ Hwit. Re-enter Mistress Forp with two Servants. Go up; Ill bring linen Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders: your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch. [Hvit. First Serv. Come, come, take it up. Sec. Serv. Pray Heaven it be not full of knight again. First Serv. I hope not; I had as lief bear so much lead. Enter Forp, Paar, SHattow, Carus, and Sir Hueu Evans. Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way to unfool me again ?—Set down the basket, villains!— Somebody call my wife.— Youth in a basket!—Oh, you panderly rascals! there’s a knot, a ging,” a pack, a conspiracy against me: now shall the devil be shamed.—Whai, wife, I say!—Come, come forth!—Behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching ! Page. Why, this passes!!¥ Master Ford, you are not to go loose any longer; you must be pinioned. Evans. Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad dog! Shal. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well; indeed. Ford. So say I too, sir. Re-enter Mistress Forp. Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous crea- ture, that hath the jealous fool to her husband !—I suspect without cause, mistress, do I? Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty. Ford. Well said, brazen-face! hold it out.—Come ‘forth, sirrah! . [Pulling the clothes out of the basket. Page. This passes ! Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed ? let the clothes alone. Ford. I shall find you anon. Evans. *Tis unreasonable! Will you take up your wife’s clothes? Come away. Ford. Empty the basket, I say! Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why,— Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket: why may not he be there again? ‘out’ or ‘up’ which would accompany that verb in a similar passage of modern writing. (12) Ging. An old word for ‘gang.’ (13) This passes. This goes beyond belief. (14) This wrongs you. This is unworthy of you, this does you discredit. In my. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 119 - house I am sure he is: my intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable.—Pluck me out all the linen. Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea’s death. Page. Here’s no man. Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford ; this wrongs you.'* Evans. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is jealousies. Ford. Well, he’s not here I seek for. Page. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain. Ford. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity ; let me for ever be your table-sport ; let them say of me, “ As jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife’s leman.”'> Satisfy me once more; once more search with me. Mrs. Ford. What, ho, Mistress Page! come you and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber. Ford. Old woman! what old woman’s that ? ; Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid’s aunt of Brent- ord. Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean. Have I not forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We are simple men; we do not ‘know what’s brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery'® as this is; beyond our element : we know nothing.—Come down, you witch, you hag, you; come down, I say ! Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband!—Good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. Re-enter Fatstarr in women’s clothes, led by Mistress Pace. Mrs. Page. your hand. Ford. VU “prat” her.—[Beating him.] Out of my door, you witch, you rag, you baggage, you pole- cat, you ronyon!" out! out! Pil conjure you, Pll fortune-tell you. [| Hait Faustarr. Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the poor woman. Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it.—’Tis a goodly credit for you. Ford. Hang her, witch! Evans. By yea and no, I think the ’oman is a witch indeed: I lke not when a ’oman has a great peard ; I spy a great peard under her muffler. Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow; see but the issue of my jealousy: if I ery out thus upon no trail,!* never trust me when I open again. Page. Let’s obey his humour a little farther: come, gentlemen. [Hzeunt Forp, Pace, Suau., Carus, and Evans. Come, Mother Prat; come, give me (15) Leman. An old word for lover, sweetheart: used for both men and women. (16) Daubery. Delusion, imposition, trickery, fraud, jugglery. (17) You ronyon! French, rogneua ; scurvy, scabby. (18) If I cry out thus wpon no trail. Terms of the chase. To “ery out” and to “open” mean to bark at sight of the game; 120 Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully. Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought. Mrs. Page. Ill have the cudgel hallowed, and hung o’er the altar; it hath done meritorious service. Mrs. Ford. What think you? may we, with the warrant of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any farther revenge ? Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of him: if the devil have him not in fee- simple, with fine and recovery,’ he will never, I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again. Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him ? Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husband’s brains. If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any farther afflicted, we two will still be the ministers. Mrs. Ford. Vllwarrant they’ll have him publicly shamed : and methinks there would be no period” to the jest, should he not be publicly shamed. Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it, then; shape it: I would not have things cool. [ Hxeunt. SCENE III.—A room in the Garter Inn. Enter Host and Barpoupnu. Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your horses: the duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him. Host. What duke should that be, comes so secretly ? I hear not of him in the court. Let me speak with the gentlemen; they speak English ? Bard. Ay, sir; Pll call them to you. Host. They shall have my horses; but I’ll make them pay; Pll sauce them: they have had my house a week at command: J have turned away my other guests: they must come off ;*#! I'll sauce them. Come. [ Hxeunt. SCENE IV.—A room in Forp’s house. Enter Pace, Forp, Mistress Pace, Mistress Forp, and Str Hueu Evans. Fvans. *Tis one of the pest discretions of a’oman as ever I did look upon. Page. And did he send you both these letters at an instant ? Mrs. Page. Ford. Pardon me, wife. thou wilt ; I rather will suspect the sun with cold, Within a quarter of an hour. Henceforth do what and “trail’’ is the track of scent left by its passage over the ground. (19) In fee-simple, with fine and recovery. Legal forms of expression: the first signifying possession for ever ; the second, in assurance most strong. (20) No period. No due conclusion. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. [Acr LV. | Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour stand, In him that was of late a heretic, As firm as faith. Page. *Tis well, ’tis well; no more: Be not as éxtreme in submission As in offence. But let our plot go forward: let our wives Yet once again, to make us public sport, Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it. Ford. There is no better way than that they spoke of. Page. How! to send him word they’ll meet him in the Park at midnight? Fie, fie! he’ll never come. fivans. You say, he has been thrown in the rivers; and has been grievously peaten, as an old °oman : methinks there should be terrors in him that he should not come ; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have no desires. Page. So think I too. Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither. Mrs. Page. 'There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg’d horns ; And there he blasts the trees, and takes the cattle,” And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner. You have heard of such a spirit; and well you know, The superstitious idle-headed eld* Receiv’d, and did deliver to our age, This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth. Page. Why, yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Herne’s oak. But what of this ? Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device ; That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, Disguis’d like Herne, with huge horns on his head. Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he’ll come, And in this shape: when you have brought him | thither, What shall be done with him? what is your plot? Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought upon, and thus. Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, And three or four more of their growth, we’ll dress Like urchins, ouphes,™ and fairies, green and white, With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, And rattles in their hands: upon a sudden, As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met, Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once (21) Come off, An old phrase, equivalent to the modern vulgarism, “Come down with the cash ;’ that is, to pay. (22) Takes the cattle. To “take” was used for strike, blast, or bewitch ; to affect with disease. (23) Eld. Old people; elderly folk. rc (24) Urchins, ouphes. ‘“‘Urchins” are mischievous sprites; *ouphes,”’ elves, or goblins. Scene IV.] THE MERRY With some diffuséd*® song: upon their sight, We two in great amazedness will fly : Then let them all encircle him about, And, fairy-like, to-pinch” the unclean knight ; And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, In their so sacred paths he dares to tread In shape profane. Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, WIVES OF WINDSOR. 121 Evans. I will teach the children their behaviours; and I will be like a jack-an-apes”® also, to burn the knight with my taber. Ford. That will be excellent. vizards. Mrs. Page. Pll go buy them My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies, Finely attired in a robe of white. Falstaff. Now, whence come you? Quickly. From the two parties, forsooth. Faistaf. The devil take one party, and his dam the other! Let the supposéd fairies pinch him sound,” And burn him with their tapers. Mrs. Page. The truth being known, ‘We'll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, And mock him home to Windsor. Ford. The children must Be practis’d well to this, or they'll ne’er do’t. (25) Diffused. Wild, irregular, discordant. (26) To-pinch. Verbs were anciently formed with the prefix “to,” as afterwards with ‘be;’ thus “ to-pinch,” ‘ to-tore,’ were used for be-pinch, be-tore. (27) Sound. For ‘soundly,’ in the sense of thoroughly, heartily ; the adjective being used for the adverb. (28) Jack-an-apes. The derivation of this word has been variously given; but we imagine that it was originally a kind of jack-pudding, merry-andrew, or scaramouch character of the ancient drama, and came to signify a fantastic, coxcombical, or impertinent fellow. 16 Act IV. Scene V. Page. That silk will I go buy:—[aside] and in that time” Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away, And marry her at Eton.—[J’o them] Go send to Falstaff straight. Ford. Nay, Vl to him again in name of Brook: He’ll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he’ll come. Here it seems to mean some fantastical elfin being that Sir Hugh intends to impersonate; and a delightfully characteristic effect is thus given, by Shakespeare’s making the good-natured Welsh parson and schoolmaster not only teach the children their parts, but take part in the pastime himself. (29) Time. Altered by Theobald +o ‘tire,’ and by Singer to ‘trim.’ But the original word in the Folio “time,” affords an instance of Shakespeare’s way of referring to an implied particular; and here signifies the “‘ time” when the fairy revel they have been plotting is to take place. 122 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Mrs. Page. perties,” And tricking for our fairies. Evans. Letus about it: it is admirable pleasures and fery honest knaveries. [Hxeunt Paar, Forp, and Evans. Mrs. Page. Go, Mistress Ford, Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind. [Hait Mistress Forp. T’ll to the doctor: he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot ; And him my husband best of all affects. The doctor is well money’d, and his friends Potent at court: he, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. [ Hatt. Fear not you that. Go get us pro- SCENE V.—A room in the Garter Inn. Enter Host and Stmpre. Host. What wouldst thou have, boor? what, thick-skin ?*! speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap. Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff from Master Slender. Host. There’s his chamber, his house, his castle, his standing-bed, and truckle-bed;** *tis painted about with the story of the Prodigal, fresh and new. Go knock and call; he’ll speak like an Anthropo- phaginian*® unto thee: knock, I say. Sim. There’s an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into his chamber: [ll be so bold as stay, sir, till she come down; I come to speak with her, indeed. Host. Ha! a fat woman! the knight may be robbed: TV call.—Bully knight! bully Sir John! speak from thy lungs military; art thou there? it is thine host, thine Ephesian,* calls. Fal. {Above] How now, mine host ! Host. Here’s a Bohemian-Tartar® tarries the coming down of thy fat woman. Let her descend, bully, let her descend. My chambers are honour- able: fie! privacy? fie! Enter Fausrarr. Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat woman even now with me; but she’s gone, (30) Properties. A technical theatrical term for stage necessaries ; and “tricking’’ means the apparel in which the fairy-troop are to be ‘ tricked out,’ or dressed up. (31) Thick-skin. An old form of thick-skull, or thick-head. (32) Standing-bed, and truckle-bed. The former was used for the master, the latter for the servant; and its name was derived from Latin, trochlea, a small wheel or castor. It was made to run under the larger bed; and hence the verb to ‘ truckle,’ to be subservient. (33) Anthropephetitnen. A cannibal, a man-eater; the Host enlarges even his usual stvle of grandiloquence to astound and overawe Simple. _ (34) Ephesian. A cant term of the period, possibly involving a hint_that the person so called is of doubtful orthodoxy ; for in “2 Henry IV.,” ii. 2, we find “What company ?’’—‘‘ Ephesians, my lord; of the old church: ” where the epithet is applied to thieves and roysterers. ‘‘ Pagan” is also used in the same way. Probably the Host employs words he has heard applied to tavern-keepers and tavern-haunters, without much knowledge of or care for their original signification. [Acr IV. Sim. Pray you, sir, was’t not the wise woman of Brentford ? Fal. Ay, marry, was it, muscle-shell :°° what would you with her ? Sim. My master, sir, Master Slender, sent to her, seeing her go through the streets, to know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain, had the chain or no. Fal. I spake with the old woman about it. Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir? Fal. Marry, she says that the very same man that beguiled Master Slender of his chain, cozened him of it. Sim. I would I could have spoken with the woman herself; I had other things to have spoken with her too from him. Fal. What are they? let us know. Host. Ay, come; quick. Sim. I may not conceal them,® sir. Host. Conceal them, or thou diest. Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress Anne Page; to know, if it were my master’s fortune to have her or no. . Fal. ’Tis, ’tis his fortune. Sim. What, sir? Fal. To have her,—or no. told me so. Sim. May I be bold to say so, sir? Fal. Ay, Sir Tike,** who more bold? Sim. I thank your worship: I shall make my master glad with these tidings. [ Hxit. Host. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly,* Sir John. Was there a wise woman‘? with thee? Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host; one that hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before in my life; and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning.” Go; say the woman Enter Barpouru. Bard. Out, alas! sir; cozenage, mere cozenage ! Host. Where be my horses? speak well of them, varletto. Bard. Run away with the cozeners: for so soon as I came beyond Eton, they threw me off, from behind one of them, in a slough of mire; and set spurs and away, like three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses.”? Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, villain: do not say they be fled; Germans are honest men. (35) Bohemian- Tartar. “Tartars” and ‘“ Bohemians” were wandering hordes of gipsies, and the terms were applied to vagabonds generally; but the compound term is another of pee sounding names that mine Host flings at Simple to bewilder im. (36) Muscle-shell. This epithet of Falstaff’s sufficiently indicates the scared appearance Simple presents, as he stands gaping and staring with his mouth open. (37) I may not conceal them. Simple’s blunder for ‘reveal,’ which the Host humours by his repeating the word in the same mistaken sense. (38) Ay, Sir Tike. The Folio misprints ‘like’ for “Tike,” the word in the Quarto; signifying clown, lout, boor. (39) Clerkly. Scholarly, clever, learned. (40) Wise woman. An old name for a witch, or fortune-teller. (41) Paid nothing for it neither, but was paid, &c. “ Paid” here is used first in its usual sense, and Gaeordly: in its sense of being beaten,—as we now say ‘paid out.’ (42) Doctor Faustuses. See Note 19, Acti. Scenz VI.| Enter Str Huan Evans. Where is mine host ? Host. What is the matter, sir? Evans. Have a care of your entertainments : there is a friend of mine come to town, tells me there is three cousin-germans* that has cozened all the hosts of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of horses and money. I tell you for good-will, look you: you are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting-stogs, and ’tis not convenient you should be cozened. Fare you well. [ Heit. Evans. Enter Doctor Caius. Caius. Vere is mine host de Jarretiere ? Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity and doubtful dilemma. Caius. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a me, dat you make grand preparation for a duke de Jarmany: by my trot, dere is no duke dat de court is know to come. I tell you for good-vill: adieu. [ Heit. Host. Hue and cry, villain, go!—Assist me, knight.—I am undone!—Fly, run, hue and cry, villain !—I am undone! [ Hxeunt Hosr and Barn. Fal. I would all the world might be cozened; for I have been cozened and beaten too. If it should come to the ear of the court, how I have been transformed, and how my transformation hath been washed and cudgelled, they would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen’s boots with me: I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear. I never prospered since I forswore myself at primero.“ Well, if my wind were but long enough to say my prayers, I would repent. Enter Mistress Quickiy. Now, whence come you? Quick. From the two parties, forsooth. Fal. The devil take one party, and his dam the other! and so they shall be both bestowed. I have suffered more for their sakes, more than the villainous inconstancy of man’s disposition is able to bear. Quick. And have not they suffered? Yes, I warrant; speciously one of them; Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten black and blue, that you cannot see a white spot about her. Fal. What tellest thou me of black and blue? I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rain- bow; and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brentford: but that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman,“ delivered me, the knave constable had set me i’ the stocks, i’ the common stocks, for a witch. Quick. Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber: you shall hear how things go; and, I warrant, to your content. Here is a letter will say (43) Cousin-germans. Put into the mouth of the peppery Welshman by Shakespeare with confused significations : “ cousin” meaning a kinsman, yet sounding like ‘cozen,’ to cheat; while “cermans”’ mean relations, as well as natives of Germany. (44) Primero. A game of cards much played in Shakespeare’s time; its name being derived from the Spanish, and from a certain order of cards first shown and seen, winning the game. (45) Counterfeiting the action of an old woman. Falstaff plumes THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 123 somewhat. Good hearts, what ado here is to bring you together! Sure, one of you does not serve Heaven well, that you are so crossed. Fal. Come up into my chamber. [ Exeunt. SCENE VI.—Another room in the Garter Inn. Enter Fenton and Host. Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me; my mind is heavy: I will give over all. Fent. Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose, And, as [am a gentleman, I'll give thee A hundred pound in gold more than your loss. Host. I will hear you, Master Fenton; and 1 will, at the least, keep your counsel. Fent. From time to time I have acquainted you With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ; Who mutually hath answer’d my affection, (So far forth as herself might be her chooser,) Even to my wish. I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at ; The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, That neither, singly, can be manifested, Without the show of both ;—wherein fat Falstaff Hath a great scene: the image of the jest Til show you here at large. [Pointing to letter.| Hark, good mine host: To-night at Herne’s oak, just ’*twixt twelve and one, Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen ; The purpose why, is here [Pointing to letter] : in which disguise, While other jests are something rank on foot, Her father hath commanded her to slip Away with Slender, and with him at Eton Immediately to marry: she hath consented. Now, sir, Her mother, even strong *® against that match, And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed That he shall likewise shuffle her away, While other sports are tasking of their minds, And at the deanery, where a priest attends, Straight marry her: to this her mother’s plot She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath Made promise to the doctor.—Now, thus it rests: Her father means she shall be all in white ; And in that habit, when Slender sees his time To take her by the hand, and bid her go, She shall go with him: her mother hath intended, The better to denote her to the doctor,— For they must all be masked and vizarded,— ‘ That, quaint*’ in green, she shall be loose enrob’d With ribands pendent, flaring *bout her head ; And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, himself upon enacting the part of a guileless old woman, a harm- legs, simple old creature, with nothing of the “witch”’ about her. It would be sunerfluous to explain this, were it not that such good commentators as Theobald and Johnson have checked at the passage as it stands. (46) Even strong. As strong, equally strong. (47) Quaint. Used by Shakespeare here and in the “ Tempest,” to signify ‘ gracefully fantastic.’ 124 To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, The maid hath given consent to go with him. Host. Which means she to deceive, father or mother ? Fent. Both, my good host, to go along with me: And here it rests,—that you’ll procure the vicar To stay for me at church ’twixt twelve and one, THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. [Acr V. And, in the lawful name of marrying, To give our hearts united ceremony. Host. Well, husband your device; I’ll to the vicar. Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee; Besides, I’ll make a present recompense. [ Exeunt. ACs SCENE I.—A room in the Garter Inn. Enter Faustarr and Mistress Quickiy. Fal. Pr’ythee, no more prattling ; go:—T’ll hold.! 3 This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away, go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.— Away. Quick. Ill provide you a chain; and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns. Fal. Away, I say: time wears: hold up your head, and mince.?— [Hat MistREss QuICKLY. Enter Ford. How now, Master Brook! Master Brook, the matter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the Park about midnight, at Herne’s oak, and you shall see wonders. Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed ? Fal. Iwent to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man: but I came from her, Master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master Brook, that ever governed frenzy :—I will tell you:—he beat me grievously, in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of man, Master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver’s beam; because I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste; go along with me: I'll tell you all, Master Brook. Since I plucked geese,’ played truant, and whipped top, I knew not what ’twas to be beaten till lately. Follow me: [ll tell you strange things of this knave Ford; on whom to-night I will be re- venged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow :—strange things in hand, Master Brook :— follow. [ Hxeunt. SCENE IL.—Windsor Park. Enter Paar, SHattow, and SLENDER. Page. Come, come; we'll couch 7’ the castle- (1) PU hold. Tl keep the engagement. (2) Hold up your head, and mince. Bear yourself with an appear- ance of uprightness, and walk demurely; as if upon an errand of the utmost innocence. ditch till we see the light of our fairies: Remember, son Slender, my daughter. Slen. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word‘ how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry “mum;” she cries “budget ;” and by that we know one another. Shal. That’s good too: but what needs either your “mum” or her “budget?” the white will decipher her well enough.—It hath struck ten o’clock. Page. The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let’s away; follow me. | Hxeunt. SCENE IlI.—The street in Windsor. Enter Mistress Pacer, Mistress Forp, and Doctor Catus. Mrs. Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in green: when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before into the Park: we two must go together. Caius. I know vat I have todo. Adieu. Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Heit Carus.J]— My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor’s marrying my daughter: but ’tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break. Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies ? and the Welsh devil, Hugh ? Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne’s oak, with obscured lights; which, at the very instant of Falstaff’s and our meeting, they will at once display to the night. Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him. Mrs. Page If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked. Mrs. Ford. We’ll betray him finely. (3) Since I plucked geese. To strip the feathers from a live goose was formerly a barbarous boyish amusement. (4) Nay-word. A watch-word. Evans. Come, will this wood take fire? [They burn him with their tapers. Falstaf. Oh, oh, oh! Act V. Scene V. al tek ‘ iN a | ANNU Engraved by F. COOPER. Scene 1. ““ MEASURE FOR MEASURE,” Act V., My husband bids me ; now I will unmask. MARIANA AND ANGELO. Mariana. RALSTON Drawn by J. M‘L Sceng V.] Mrs. Page. do no treachery. Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on. the oak ! Against such, those that betray them To the oak, to [ Hxeunt. SCENE IV.— Windsor Park. Enter Str Hue Evans disguised as a Satyr, with ANNE Pace and others dressed as Fairies. Evans. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember your parts. . Be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit; and when I give the watch-’ords, do as I pid you: come, come; trib, trib. | Hxeunt. . SCENE V.—Another part of the Park. Enter Fausrarr disquised as Herne, with a buck’s head on. Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me !—Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa ; love set on thy horns :—Oh, powerful love! that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; in some other, a man a beast.—You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Leda:—Oh, omnipotent love ! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! —A fault done first in the form of a beast ;—and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl ;—think on’t, Jove; a foul fault. For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, 7’ the forest.—Who comes here? my doe? Enter Mistress Forp and Mistress Paar. Mrs. Ford. Sir John! art thou here, my deer ? Fal. My doe!—Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of “Green Sleeves ;” hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes ;° let there come a tempest, I will shelter me here. [Embracing her. Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. Fal. Divide me like a bribed buck,’ each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk,’ and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I (5) Eringoes. A sea-side plant, used in making sugar-plums called “kissing-comfits:” as were also potatoes, when first in- troduced into England. This kind of sweetmeat found favour among gallants of Falstaff’s description. (6) Bribed buck. A buck cut up into portions for distribution ; from French, bribe, a piece or portion. The Welsh word brib, a scrap or fragment, supports this derivation. (7) The fellow of this walk. The forester; to whom it was the custom to present as perquisites the shoulders of venison cut from the buck when—in the language of the chase—the ‘ breaking up’ of a deer took place. ““Woodman” was the title given to the forester’s attendant; but it applied to one generally skilled in the sport of hunting game, and is used equivocally by Falstaff. _ (8) een. This prefix is given Qui. and Qu. through this scene in the Folio, and may have meant that the actress who played Mrs. Quickly was to double her part with this one; but as in Act iv. sc. 4, in Act iv. se. 6,and in Act vy. sc. 3, it is distinctly said that Anne Page is to enact the Fairy Queen, there is every probability THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 127 like Herne the hunter ?—Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome ! | Noise within. Mrs. Page. Mrs. Ford. Alas ! what noise ? Heaven forgive our sins! Fal. What should this be ? Mrs. Ford. Ure one Away, away! [They run off. Fal. I think the devil will not have me, lest the - oil that’s in me should set his place on fire ; he would never else cross me thus. Enter Str Huen Evans, as a Satyr ; Piston, as Hob- goblin ; AnnE Paar, as the Fairy Queen, attended by her Brother and others, as Fairies, with waxen tapers on their heads. Queen. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan-heirs of fixéd destiny,® Attend your office and your quality.!°— Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes." Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys ! Cricket, w Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap ;” Where fires thou find’st unrak’d, and hearths un- swept ; There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry : Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery. Fal. They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die: Pll wink and couch : no man their works must eye. {Lies down upon his face. Ewans. Where’s Bede ?—Go you, and where you find a maid, That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, Raise up the organs of her fantasy ;° Sleep she as sound as careless infancy : But those that sleep, and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins. Queen. About, about; Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out: Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room ; That it may stand till the perpetual doom, In state as wholesome as in state ’tis fit, Worthy the owner, and the owner it. The several chairs of order look you scour With juice of balm! and every precious flower: Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest, With loyal blazon, evermore be blest ! that “Queen”’ is intended to be the prefix here, and that the actress who plays Anne Page is to deliver these speeches. (9) Orphan-heirs of fixed destiny. Beings created orphans by fate ; in allusion to supposed spontaneous and ex-natural births, such as Merlin’s, and others of his stamp, holding place in popular super- stition, who were believed to have been_born without fathers. There is a similar reference in “2 Henry IV.,” iv. 4—*‘ Unfather’d heirs, and loathly births of nature.” (10) Quality. Used for appointed duty or performance. (11) O-yes. Old French, oyez, hear ye. ‘“O-yes’’ still forms the commencement of a “ Crier’s’’ official proclamation. (12) Shalt thow leap. This has been changed to ‘when thou’st leapt,’ in order to make the couplet here rhyme like the rest; but many imperfectly rhyming couplets are to be found elsewhere in Shakespeare, when the general passage is in rhyme. (13) Raise wp the organs of her fantasy. Exalt her imagination by pleasant dreams. ; (14) Chairs of order look you scowr with juice of balm. It was a And nightly, meadow fairies, look you sing, Like to the Garter’s compass, in a ring: Th’ expressure! that it bears, green let it be, More fertile-fresh than all the field to see ; And Honi soit qui mal y pensé write In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white ; Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, Buckled below fair knighthood’s bending knee :— Fairies use flowers for their charactery.' Away! disperse! But till ’tis one o’clock, Our dance of custom round about the oak Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget. Evans. Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set ; And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, To guide our measure round about the tree.— But, stay; I smell a man of middle-earth.'” Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese ! Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o’erlook’d'® even in thy birth. Queen. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end : If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, And turn him to no pain; but if he start, It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. Pist. A WW Duke. Old Escalus, Though first in question, is thy secondary :— Take thy commission. Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur ; Whether the tyranny be in his place, Or in his eminence that fills it up, I stagger in:—but this new governor Awakes me all the enrolléd penalties, Which have, like unscour’d armour, hung by the wall So long, that nineteen zodiacs *® have gone round, (29) Nineteen zodiacs. “ Zodiac,’ the track of the sun through the twelve signs, is here poetically used to express a revolving year; and Claudio speaks of “nineteen” of these years during which the penal law has been suffered to remain unenforced, though the duke, in the next scene, more correctly states their number to be “ fourteen.” These variations in statement, with which Shake- speare’s commentators reproach him as inaccuracies, are precisely such as are consistent with Nature—whose portrait the poet copied with the implicitness of a Chinese artificer, and the fidelity of a true poet. Itis most characteristic that a young fellow like Claudio should carelessly mention somewhere about the period in question, while the staid duke cites it exactly. Act I. Scene I. I pr’ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service. This day my sister should the cloister enter, And there receive her approbation :*! Acquaint her with the danger of my state ; Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him : I have great hope in that; for in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect,*? (30) Tickle. Ticklish; precariously. (31) Receive her approbation. Enter upon her probation, or noviciate. (82) Prone and speechless dialect. $§ Prone” is interpreted by several annotators in its sense of ‘apt,’ ‘ready,’ or ‘prompt ;’ but it seems to us that, taken in connection with the whole of the context, it means rather something derived from another sense of this word— bending,’ ‘stooping with the head inclined forwards.’ Be it observed that Claudio, in the first clause of the sentence, describes rather the manner than the matter of his sister’s style, designating it as “prone and speechless dialect;” and then he goes on to talk of her power of eloquence, after the emphatic “ beside.” | t ny It SS ~ Hh Mh ah j | & r y Mi | : Ki Ss ; A | C it \ | SSS h | a q IRD y | \ ‘ OHSS t S31 AN , | i Hs i SiN) a : Sti y 1) WAY ! Hn SSSR a WAT : TE: 3 Wh ti HI NAB } SN | b x I RAR G HN | = : NUL TESST IT SMH HI ANH So : . {TAINS nh i = Hit in = | it myth i nu NaN N | A | R i : : =. nti) MN Z \ TT HT | ‘ i ATH MNS ie I 7 mc a : = Wit A et i Ny = | hy : iG WINONA Mts i = ea = ~ } ri | 1 Sith CNY at = a i y Be A Tin } nV ay | : | | | iN i SMI Z ' SHY y MN Tay i MM iN Ih} 1 Ny WII | \ , ee DATTA ‘} 4 oh Z, : NVRLUR SAR S g aS i. \ ) j P a { | ie NHL i) ! e NN - 2 es Swat i YN i ro i : y ‘ i i ! Whats J / i Y § i Za 4 ; Ny i 1 } ) AA \ Ui NA ney THN X \\ i \ 1) | Wik WZ 2 = EE hh Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you. Not to be weary with you, he’s in prison. Isabella. Woe me! for what ? Act I. SceneV. | 18 RA Scene V.| Such as moves men ; besides, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade. Lucio. I pray she may; as well for the encourage- ment of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition,® as for the enjoying of thy life, whe I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost. Tl to her. Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. Incio. Within two hours. Claud. Come, officer, away! [Hxeunt. SCENE IV.—A Monastery. Enter Duxsr and Friar THomas. Duke. No, holy father ; throw away that thought: Believe not that the dribbling * dart of love Can pierce a cémplete bosom.**» Why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth. Pri. T. May your grace speak of it ? Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever lov’d the life remov’d ;*6 And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.° I have deliver’d to Lord Angelo— A man of stricture* and firm abstinence— My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell’d to Poland ; For so I have strew’d it in the common ear, And so it is receiv’d. Now, pious sir, You will demand of me why I do this? Fri. T, Gladly, my lord. Duke. We have strict statutes and most biting laws,— The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,*°— Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep ; Hven like an o’ergrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children’s sight For terror, not to use, in time the rod Becomes more mock’d than fear’d; so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ; And liberty plucks justice by the nose ; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum. Fri. F. It rested in your grace We therefore believe that “prone” is here employed (in Shake- speare’s magic way of selecting a significant word to express his particular meaning) to convey the idea of deferential, gently sub- missive and supplicatory; just the appealing look that would accompany “speechless dialect, such as moves men.’’ (33) Grievous imposition. The imposing of grievous penalties. (34) Dribbling. Trifling, ineffectual, weak. Itis aterm borrowed from archery; a poor marksman being called “a dribber.” (35) Complete bosom. A bosom completely armed; here used figuratively, for morally protected. Shakespeare has the same epithet elsewhere, in combination with defensive armature :—* All the complete armour that thou wear’st,” Richard IIL, iv. 4; and “again in complete steel, revisit’st,’’ &c., Hamlet, i. 4. (36) The life remov'd. The life of retirement, apart from worldly attractions. (37) Bravery keeps. “Bravery” was often used for finery, showy dress; and “keeps,” for keep station, stays, remains, or haunts. (38) Stricture. Strictness. rigorous conduct. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 139 T’ unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas’d: And it in you more dreadful would have seem’d, Than in Lord Angelo. Duke. I do fear, too dreadful : Sith *twas my fault to give the people scope," *‘Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permissive pass, And not thepunishment. Therefore, indeed, my father, I have on Angelo impos’d the office ; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, And yet my nature never in the fight, To do it slander.*! And to behold his sway, I will, as *twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people: therefore, I pr’ythee, Supply me with the habit, and instruct me How I may formally in person bear me Like a true friar. More reasons for this action At our more leisure shall I render you; Only, this one :—Lord Angelo is precise ; Stands at a guard with envy :* scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [ Hxeunt. SCENE V.—A N unnery. Enter Isapetua and Francisca. Isab. And have you nuns no farther privileges ? Fran. Are not these large enough ? Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more ; But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of St. Clare. Lucio. [Within] Ho! Peace be in this place! Isab. Who’s that which calls ? Fran. It is a man’s voice. Gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him: You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn. When you have vow’d, you must not speak with men, But in the presence of the prioress: Then, if you speak, you must not show your face ; Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again; I pray you, answer him. | Haat. Isab. Peace and prosperity ! Who is’t that calls? Enter Lucro. Iuecio. Hail, virgin, if you be,—as those cheek- roses Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me (39) Steeds. Misprinted ‘ weedes,’ in the Folio; but the words “bits and curbs’”’ show the noun in the text (Theobald’s correction) to be the right one. In the following line ‘slip’ stands in the Folio for “sleep” (also Theobald’s) ; whereas this is evidenced to be the verb, no less by the metaphor, than by the passage (ii. 2):—‘‘ The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.” (40) Scope. Used here for latitude of license. (41) Never in the fight, to do it slander. Here, for “it” (Hanmer’s correction) the Folio misprints ‘in;’ which probably caught the printer’s eye from occurring twice before in the sentence. ‘Sight’ has also been substituted for “fight’’ by some editors; but the figurative words “ambush” and “strike home’’ seem to demand “fight,” in the sense of struggle or active exertion. “It” we take to refer to “name;”’ and the meaning ofthe whole passage appears to us to be:—‘ Angelo may, under cover of my name, enforce the law, while I take no part in the exertion that is opposed to my nature, and might bring me blame.’ (42) Stands at a guard with envy. As we now say, ‘Defies envy. or detraction.’ 140 As bring me to the sgnt of Isabella, A novice of this place, and the fair sister To her unhappy brother Claudio ? Isab. Why her unhappy brother ? let me ask; The rather, for I now must make you know T am that Isabella, and his sister. Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets ou. Not to be weary with you, he’s in prison. Isab. Woe me! for what? Lucio. For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks : He hath got his friend with child. Tsab. Sir, make me not your story.” Lucio. °Tis true. I would not—though ’tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing,“ and to jest, Tongue far from heart—play with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing ensky’d and sainted ; By your renouncement,* an immortal spirit ; And to be talk’d with in sincerity, As with a saint. Isab. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth,“ *tis thus :— Your brother and his lover‘? have embraced. Isab. My cousin Juliet ? Lucio. Is she your cousin ? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names By vain, though apt, affection. Incio. She it is. Isab. Oh, let him marry her. Incio. This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence ; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand,** and hope of action: but we do learn, By those that know the very nerves of state, MEASURE FOR MEASURE. His givings out were of an infinite distance [Acr II. From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo ; a man whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense, But doth rebate‘ and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind, study and fast. He—to give fear to use and liberty,” Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, As mice by lions—hath pick’d out an act, Under whose heavy sense your brother’s life Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; And follows close the rigour of the statute, To make him an example. All hope is gone, Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo: and that’s my pith Of business *! *twixt you and your poor brother. Isab. Doth he so seek his life ? Lucio. Has censur’d him? Already ; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. Isab. Alas! what poor ability’s in me To do him good! Lucio. Assay the power you have. Isab. My power! Alas, I doubt,— Lucio. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, Men give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them. Tsab. Tl see what I can do. Lucio. But speedily. Tsab. I will about it straight ; No longer staying but to give the mother™ Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you: Commend me to my brother: soon at night T’ll send him certain word of my success. AGT SCENE I.—A hall in AnGELo’s house. Enter Anco, Escatus, a Justice, Provost, Officers, and other Attendants. Ang. We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear! the birds of prey, (43) Make me not your story. It has been proposed to substitute ‘scorn’ for “story.” But “story” is here used for subject of jest, ground for mockery. In the same way, Falstaff, when made the subject of the gibes and jests of the assembled party around Herne’s Oak, says—* Well, I am your theme.” (44) Lapwing. A bird that diverts attention from its nest, by erying and flitting away from the spot. There is another allusion to this, “Comedy of Errors,”’ iv. 2. (45) Renouncement. Renouncing the world by intending to become a nun. (46) Fewness and truth. In few and true words. (47) Lover. In Shakespeare’s time “lover’’ was applied to both men and women. (48) Bore many gentlemen . . . inhand. To “bear in hand”’ meant to beguile, or lure on by false expectation. Inucio. I take my leave of you. Isab. Good sir, adieu. [Hveunt. Tels And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror. Escal. Ay, but yet: Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, Than fall,? and bruise to death. Alas! this gentle- man, (49) Rebate. Jiiterally, to beat back; French, rebattre. To make dull, to repress, to diminish. (50) To give fear to use and liberty. To intimidate and check abuses grown customary and over-free. ; (51) Pith of business. The marrow, or core of the communication. (52) Censur’d him. To “ censure’’ was used for to judge: hence, “censur’d him’? means, pronounced judgmeut upon him, sen- tenced him. (53) Owe. Used here for own, possess, have. (54) The mother. ‘The superior of the convent: the abbess, or prioress. (1) To fear. Used actively; to frighten. (2) Fall. Used actively ; to ‘fall a tree’ is employed for throw down, or fell a tree. Scenz T.] Whom I would save, had a most noble father. Let but your honour know,3— Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,— That, in the working of your own affections, Had time coher’d with place or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attain’d the effect of your own purpose, Whether you had not, sometime in your life, Sy) AAS Mt | MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 141 We tread upon, and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offence, For I have had such faults ;7 but rather tell me, When I, that censure him,* do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. Hscal. Be it as your wisdom will. Ang. Where is the provost ? Escalus. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? Froth, Yes, an’t please you, sir. Escalus. So.—[ To CLown] What trade are you of, sir? Clown, A tapster; a poor widow’s tapster. Err’d in this point which now you censure him,‘ And pull’d the law upon you. _ Ang. Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. I not deny, The jury, passing on’ the prisoner’s life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try. What’s open made To justice, that justice seizes: what know the laws That thieves do pass on thieves? ’Tis very pregnant,® The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, Because we see it; but what we do not see (3) Know. Used here for reflect, consider. (4) This point which now you censure him. An elliptical phrase, wherein ‘for’ must be understood between “ point” and “which.” _ (5) Passing on. To “pass on”’ is a legal term, signifying to pass judgment on, to decide for capital punishment. (6) Pregnant. Used here for full of self-evident fact. (7) For I have had such faults. Because I have had such faults. (8) Censure him. Judge him, condemn him, sentence him. Act II. Scene I. Prov. Here, if it like your honour, Ang. See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning. Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar’d ; For that’s the utmost of his pilgrimage. | Hxit Provost. Escal. Well, Heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall : Some run from brakes of vice,’ and answer none ; And some condemnéd for a fault alone. (9) Brakes of vice. “ Vice’’ (Rowe’s correction) is misprinted ‘ice’ in the Folio. From the way in which Shakespeare uniformly uses the word “ brake,” when he uses it as a noun, we believe that here “ brakes’? mean thorny thickets; and, figuratively, entangle- ments, or moral embarrassments. Therefore, the entire passage may be thus interpreted:—‘ Some get free from vicious courses, without having to answer for any, while some are condemned for a single error.’ 142 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Enter Exzow, Frorn, Ciown, Officers, &c. Elb. Come, bring them away. If these be good people in a common weal, that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away. Ang. How now, sir! what’s the matter ? Elb. Tf it please your honour, I am the poor duke’s constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. Ang. Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are they ? are they not malefactors ? Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: but precise villains'® they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world, that good Christians ought to have. Escal. This comes off well: !! here’s a wise officer. Ang. Goto:—what quality’ are they of P Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow ? Clo. He cannot, sir; he’s out at elbow.! Ang. What are you, sir? Hib. He, sir! a tapster, sir: one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs ; and now she professes a hot-house,!* which, I think, is a very ill house too. Escal. How know you that? Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest!* before Heaven and your honour,— Hscal. How! thy wife ! Elb. Ay, sir;—whom, I thank Heaven, is an honest woman,— Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore ? Elb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house is a naughty house. Escal. How dost thou know that, constable ? Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who might have been accused in all uncleanliness there. Escal. By the woman’s means ? Elb. Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone’s means; but she defied him. Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it. Escal. [To Anazto] Do you hear how he mis- places ? What’s your name? and Clo. Sir, she came in longing—saving your (10) Precise villains. Elbow wishes to say that they are precisely, exactly, thoroughly villains; but the word he uses gives the im- pression of strict, severely moral, if we observe how it is used (i. 4) in the passage, “‘ Lord Angelo is precise,” &c. Also, Elbow stumbles on the word “ profanation” for ‘profession,’ immediately after- wards (as is proved by Angelo’s asking, “ What quality are they of ?’’), giving the effect by the whole speech of a ridiculous com- plaint against puritanical conduct, instead of just the reverse. (11) This comes off well. A phrase in common use, signifying ‘this is well delivered, or expressed.’ Of course, this is here used ironically. (12) Quality. Used for profession, avocation. (13) Out at elbow. Punningly spoken; as a hit at the constable’s threadbare coat, and at his being startled and put “‘out”’ by Angelo’s peremptory repetition of his name. (14) Professes a hot-house. Professes, or pretends to keep a warm- bath house, a bagnio. (15) Detest. Elbow’s blunder for ‘ protest.’ (16) Distant. Probably the Clown intends to say ‘ distinct;’ or, perhaps, ‘ instant.’ (17) A lower chair, A name formerly given to what now would be called ‘an easy chair.’ [Acr IT. honour’s reverence—for stewed prunes, sir ;—we had but two in the house, which at that very distant" time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence ;—your honours have seen such dishes ; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes,— Fiscal. Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are there- in in the right:—but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and as I say, paying for them very honestly ;—for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you three- pence again,— Froth. No, indeed. Clo. Very well;—you being then, if you be re- membered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,— Froth. Ay, so I did indeed. Clo. Why, very well;—lI telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you,— : Froth. All this is true. Clo. Why, very well, then. Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool: to the pur- pose. What was done to Elbow’s wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her. Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour’s leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas :—was’t not at Hallowmas, Master Froth ?— Froth. All-Hallownd eve. Clo. Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair,’ sir ;— *twas in the Bunch of Grapes,'* where, indeed, you have a delight to sit, have you not ?— Froth. I have so; because it is an open room, and good for winter." Clo. Why, very well, then ; I hope here be truths. Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there: I’ll take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause ; Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all.” (18) Bunch of Grapes. The naming of particular rooms after this fashion—especially in taverns and inns—was usual in Shakespeare’s time; and we find the “ Half-Moon’”’ and the “ Pomegranate’ men- tioned in “1 Henry IV.,” ii. 4. Even when Goldsmith wrote, the custom still prevailed; for in his comedy of “She Stoops to Con- quer,” the heroine, impersonating a barmaid, says—‘ Attend the Lion there; pipes and tobacco for the Angel; the Lamb has been outrageous this half-hour.” (19) An open room, and good for winter. Though this is doubtless intended for Master Froth’s flabbily-floundering way of expressing himself, yet as the blunders put into the mouths of Shakespeare’s characters generally have some point of analogy, even in opposed signification, or some side-link of association, we cannot help thinking that the word “open’’ is here used by the foolish gentle- man, with some glimmer of its meaning in the sense in which Bacon uses it, where he speaks of ‘an open and warm winter;’ that is, a mild, unfrosty, genial winter. (20) Good cause to whip them all. The “them” in this sentence is an instance of Shakespeare’s way of making a relative pronoun (or rather, here, a personal pronoun used relatively) refer to an implied, though unmentioned, particular. It of course refers to the people brought up for examination. We may here observe how Scene I. ] Escal. I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. | Hait ANGELO. Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow’s wife, once more ? Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once. Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. Fiscal. Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her ? Clo. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman’s face.—Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; *tis for a good purpose.—Doth your honour mark his face ? Escal. Clo. Escal. Clo. Ay, sir, very well. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. Well, I do so. Doth your honour see any harm in his face ? Escal. Why, no. Clo. Vll be supposed?! upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable’s wife any harm? I would know that of your honour. Escal. He’s in the right.—Constable, what say you to it? Elb. First, an it like you, the house is a re- spected*’ house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman. Clo. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more re- spected person than any of us all. Eilb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the time is yet to come, that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child. Clo. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. iscal. Which is the wiser here? Iniquity ?**—Is this true? Hib. Ob, thou eatiff! Oh, thou varlet!** Oh, thou wicked Hannibal!*> I respected with her be- fore I was married to her?—If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke’s officer.—Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or [ll have mine action of battery on thee. Fiscal. If he took you a box o’ th’ ear, you might have your action of slander too. filb. Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is’t your worship’s pleasure I shall do with this wicked catiff ? Escal. Truly, officer, Justice or because he hath some perfectly characteristic of Angelo is this casually introduced little speech and incident of withdrawal ; indicating his selfishly leaving his colleague to fulfil a wearisome task, and his own hard intoler- ance of spirit, on which intolerance he moreover plumes himself, as if it were a virtue. (21) Supposed. The Clown’s word for ‘deposed.’ (22) Respected. Elbow’s mistake for ‘ suspected.’ (23) Justice or Iniquity. These were the names given to two of the characters in the ancient plays called moralities; and applied here to the Constable-prosecutor and the Clown-delinquent. (24) Oh, thow caitif'! Oh, thou varlet! “ Caitiff?? means a des- picable wretch, from the old French, caitif or chétif, wretched ; and, indirectly, from the Latin, captus, a captive, a slave. “ Varlet” is from the old French, varlet or valet ; meaning a youth, a youthful attendant, and then a groom. It had not originally a lowly or mean signification ; as young gentlemen were in attendance on the king’s chamber, and called valets de chambre, while varlet was the MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 143 offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are. lb. Marry, | thank your worship for it.—Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what’s come upon thee: thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.”® Fiscal. [To Froru] Where were you born, friend ? Froth. Here in Vienna, sir. Fiscal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year ? Froth. Yes, an’t please you, sir. Fiscal. So.—[To Crown] What trade are you of, sir ? Clo. A tapster; a poor widow’s tapster. Escal. Your mistress’ name ? Clo. Mistress Overdone. Fiscal. Hath she had any more than one husband ? Clo. Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. Escal. Nine!—Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters: they will draw you,” Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. Froth. I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am drawn in. Escal. Well, no more of it, Master Froth: fare- well. [Hait Frorn.] Come you hither to me, master tapster. What’s your name, master tapster ? Clo. Pompey.” Hscal. Hark you:—I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever ; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Czesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well. Clo. I thank your worship for your good counsel ; but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me! No, no; let carman whip his jade: The valiant heart’s not whipt out of his trade. [ Heit. Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come How long have you been Escal. hither, master constable. in this place of constable ? lb, Seven year and a half, sir. Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time. You say, seven years together ? Hlb. And a half, sir. Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! name given to squires or attendant grooms attached to knights’ service. But eventually the word fell into exclusively low meaning, and signified a vile fellow. : (25) Hannibal. In mistake for cannibal. (26) Continue. It is evident that from the tone of Escalus’s speech, Elbow conceives this to be some threatened punishment. | (27) They will draw you. ‘ Draw” is here quibblingly used in allusion to the tapsters when drawing beer, and when drawing (or as we should now say ‘taking’) in their customers; likewise in allusion to the drawing felons on a hurdle to be hanged. In the next speech, the sapient Froth uses “drawn in”’ with the second of the above meanings. (28) Pompey. As his mistress calls him “Thomas Tapster” (i. 2), we should suspect that the Clown here impudently gives Escalus an ‘alias,’ were it not that Lucio addresses him as “Pompey” (iii. 2). Probably it was a familiar name bestowed upon him by waggish customers, and adopted by himself. 144 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. They do you wrong to put you so oft upon’t: are there not men in your ward sufficient*® to serve it. filb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters : as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all. Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. Elb. To your worship’s house, sir? Escal. To my house. Fare you well. Exsow.] What’s o’clock, think you? Just. Eleven, sir. Fiscal. I pray you home to dinner with me. Just. I humbly thank you. fiscal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio ; But there’s no remedy. Just. Lord Angelo is severe. Escal. It is but needful : Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so ; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: But yet,—poor Claudio !—There is no remedy.— Come, sir. ( Hweunt. [ Hert SCENE II.—Another room in AnaEto’s house. Enter Provost and a Servant. Serv. He’s hearing of a cause: he will come straight : Pll tell him of you. Prov. Pray you, do. [Hit Servant.] Tl know His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas! He hath but as offended in a dream : All sects, all ages smack of this vice! and he To die for it !— Enter ANGELO. Ang. Now, what’s the matter, provost? Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order ? Why dost thou ask again ? Prov. Lest I might be too rash : Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o’er his doom. Ang. Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar’d. Prov. I crave your honour’s pardon.°— What shall be done, sir, with the greaning Juliet ? She’s very near her hour. (29) Sufficient. Used here, and in the next-but-one speech, to express ‘of sufficient capacity,’ ‘sufficingly competent.’ Shake- speare elsewhere uses the word in this sense. (30) Your honour’s pardon. ‘Your honour’ was formerly the style of address for a lord; as now, ‘ your lordship.’ (31) More fitter. Instance of Shakespeare’s use of the then per- mitted double comparative. (32) Let it be his fault, and not my brother. Isabella means, ‘ Let my brother’s fault be condemned to extinction, not his life:’ but Angelo answers as if she had only implied “condemned,” or cen- sured. These are the subtleties in Shakespeare’s most charac- teristic, yet condensedly expressed, dialogues, that puzzle readers who too superficially peruse him. (33) To fine the fault, &c. The sentence means, ‘Were I to [Acr IE, Ang. Dispose of her To some more fitter*! place; and that with speed. Re-enter Servant. Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn’d Desires access to you. Ang. Hath he a sister ? Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. Ang. Well, let her be admitted. | Hait Servant. See you the fallen woman be remov’d : Let her have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for it. Enter Isapetua and Lucio. Prov. Save your honour! [Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while—[To Isas.] Your welcome: what’s your will? Isab. Iam a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. Ang. Well; what’s your suit? Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war *twixt will and will not. Ang. Well; the matter? Isab. I have a brother is condemn’d to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.” Prov. {Aside| Heaven give thee moving graces ! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault’s condemn’d ere it be done. Mine were the very cipher of a function, To fine the fault,** whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor. Isab. Oh, just but severe law! I had a brother, then.—Heaven keep your honour ! | Retiring. Icio. [Aside to Isas.] Give’t not o’er so: to him again, entreat him ; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown: You are too cold ;*4 if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say. Isab. Must he needs die ? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither Heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do’t. pronounce the appointed penalty on the crime, and spare the criminal.’ (34) You are too cold. It is noteworthy that Lucio twice re- proaches Isabella with coldness; and this is the impression that more than one critic has received and given of her character. But the restraint that sways her throughout this scene, is just that powerful one which deceives imperfectly-judging lookers-on into believing a woman of reticence to be a woman wanting in warmth. See how her upright soul—clear in virtuous perception, honest in righteous avowal—allows the justice of the case against her brother, thongh pleading against its severity :—“ Oh, just but severe law!” Then, again, consider the natural timidity and reluctance with which a young girl—a modest, pure girl, a girl who has voluntarily commenced her noyviciate for the chotsteretl life of a nun—would Yi Ht Lo EE : a me a LLL Z ZA SL =m ee Gents i to him Scen to him she win him! Teh Act > ty RYN : f yy) FLA Lp ns [Aside to TsaBELLA] Oh [Aside] Pray Heaven wench ! he will relent. Lucio. Provost 19 + Ee’ poe Jue yar ei pee ate Beat : . & Rae | fhe oe ne vant ae bo Mz Scene ITI. ] Isab. But can you, if you would ? Ang. Look; what I will not; that I cannot do. Isab. But might you do’t, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch’d with that remorse® As mine is to him? Ang. He’s sentene’d; ’tis too late. Lucio. [Aside to Isaz.] You are too cold. Isab. Too late; why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again. Well, believe this, - No ceremony that to great ones ’longs, Not the king’s crown nor the deputed sword, The marshal’s truncheon nor the judge’s robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you, and you as he, You would have slipp’d like him; but he, like you, Would not have been so stern. Ang. Pray you be gone. Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would teli what ’twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner. Lucio. [Aside to Isas.] Ay, touch him; there’s the vein. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. Isab. Alas! alas! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once ; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? Oh, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. Ang. Be you content, fair-maid ; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him: he must die to-morrow. Isab. To-morrow? Oh, that’s sudden! Spare him, spare him !— He’s not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season :* shall we serve Heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink ou; Who is it that hath died for this offence ? There’s many have committed it. Lucio. [Aside to Isas.] Ay, well said. enter upon a subject such as she has undertaken to plead for; a subject hard even to speak of, most hard to advocate. (35) Remorse. Sometimes used for pity, compassion; not in the sense of a regret for guilt. (36) Top of judgment. [See Note 3, Act iii., “Tempest.’”’] It has been pointed out that another world-poet, Dante, has used precisely the same expression, “ Cima di giudicio.” (37) Of season. Used as we now say ‘in season.’ We find the expression used thus, “ Merry Wives,” iii. 3—“ buck, and of the season ;’? and the way in which Isabella employs it illustratively —as prepared for, fitted for—may be shown by a passage from “Hamlet,” iii. 8, where the prince demurs to killing the sinful king, “when he is fit and seasoned for his passage.” (38) Looks in a glass. This alludes to the magic mirrors, in use pects conjurors, by looking into which they profess to see future events. - (39) Pelting. Paltry (of which palting was an old form); worth- less, mean. e word has been derived from the Teutonic palt, a scrap, a fragment. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ' choly and anger. 147 Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept : Those many had not dar’d to do that evil, If the first that did th’ edict infringe Had answer’d for his deed: now ’tis awake ; Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass,®* that shows what future evils (Hither new, or by remissness new-conceiy’d, And so in progress to be hatch’d and born) Are now to have no sticcessive degrees, But, ere they live, to end. Isab. Yet show some pity. Ang. I show it most of all when I show justice ; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismiss’d offence would after gall ; And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied: Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. Isab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he that suffers. Oh! it is excellent To have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. Lucio. [Aside to Isaz.] That’s well said. Isab. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne’er be quiet ; For every pelting,® petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder ;— Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven ! Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splitt’st the unwedgeable and gnarled“ oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Dress’d in a little brief authority,— Most ignorant of what he’s most assur’d, His glassy essence,“—like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven, As make the angels weep ; who, with our spleens,’ Would all themselves laugh mortal. Lucio. [Aside to Isas.] Oh, to him, to him, wench! he will relent ; He’s coming ; I perceive’t. Prov. [Aside] Pray Heaven che win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints; *tis wit in them! But in the less, foul profanation. Ler. [Aside to Isaz.] Thow’rt in the right, girl; more 0’ that. Isab. That in the captain’s but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. (40) Gnarled. Full of knots; ‘gnar’ being an old English word for a knot in wood. a (41) Glassy essence. The epithet here is just one of those chosen with such exquisitely apt and comprehensive force of expression by Shakespeare. “ Glassy essence’? means that essential nature of man which is like glass from its faculty to reflect the image of others in its own, and from its fragility, its liability to injury or destruction. (42) Who, with our spleens, would, &c. ‘Who, had they our human spleens, would laugh away their immortal natures, and become, like us, mortal.’ The spleen was thought to be the seat of immoderate mirth, as well as of the opposite passions, melan- The idea of angels beweeping the errors of mankind has been shown by Grotius, and others quoting him, to have existed long before Shakespeare wrote; but it is just his own way of thinking to contrast angelic commiseration for evil with the disposition of inferior beings to bitterly deride wrong-doing. (43) We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Isabella here uses “we’’ as speaking in the person of man judging his brother man; 148 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Incio. [Aside to Isas.] Art avis’d“ o’ that? more on’t. Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me ? Isab. Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the vice 0’ the top.* Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That’s like my brother’s fault: if it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother’s life. Ang. [Aside] She speaks, and ’tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.“—[ Going. ] Fare you well. Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. Ang. I will bethink me: come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark how Ill bribe you: good my lord, turn back. Ang. How! bribe me! Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that Heaven shall share with you. Lucio. [Aside to Isas.] You had marr’d all else. Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,” Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor As fancy values them; but with true prayers, That shall be up at heaven and enter there Kre sun-rise,—prayers from preservéd souls,‘* From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. Ang. Well; come to me to-morrow. Lucio. [Aside to Isas.] Go to; *tis well; away ! Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!” Ang. [Aside] Amen: For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. Isab. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship ? Ang. At any time ’fore noon. Isab. Save your honour! [ Hxeunt Isapetua, Lucio, and Provost. Ang. From thee ; even from thy virtue !— What’s this, what’s this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most, ha ? Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I, That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, That modesty may more betray our sense and says all men cannot be estimated as being alike in responsibility and liability to blame or punishment. (44) Avis’d. [See Note 66, Acti., “ Merry Daa gS (45) Skins the vice 0’ the top. A metaphor borrowed from surgery; in a case where superficial application produces a false skin over an unhealed wound. (46) Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Meaning ‘such good sense, or sensible argument, that my sense of her beauty and intelligence is produced by and grows with it.’ (47) Fond shekels of the tested gold. ‘Fond’ was an old word for foolish; andis here used to express foolishly overprized. ‘ Shekels”’ (printed ‘sickles’ in the Folio, and spelt so in ancient versions of the Bible) meant both a Jewish coin and a Jewish weight; indeed, our word scale, to weigh, is indirectly derived from the Hebrew word “shekel.”’ Shakespeare, with his usual aptness and discrimi- nation, here employs a word which conveys the idea of minted gold and heavy amount of gold. “Tested,” as an epithet applied to gold, signifies gold that has been subjected to the test and found to be pure, unalloyed, sterling. © Preserved souls. Souls preserved from mundane allure: ments. (49) Heaven keep your honour safe! Isabella says “your honour” [Acr II. Than woman’s lightness ? enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, And pitch our evils there ?*! Oh, fie, fie, fie! What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully for those things That make her good? Oh, let her brother live! Thieves for their robbery have authority, When judges steal themselves. What! do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again, And feast upon her eyes? What is’t I dream on? Oh, cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue. Never could the wanton, - With all her double vigour, art and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite :—ever till now, When men were fond, I smil’d, and wonder’d how. : | Hatt. Having waste ground SCHNE III.—A room in a Prison. inter Dux, disguised as a Friar, and Provost. Duke. Hail to you, provost! so I think you are. Prov. Iam the provost. What’s your will, good friar ? Duke. Bound by my charity and my bless’d order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison. Do me the common right To let me see them, and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Look, here comes one,—a gentlewoman of mine,°? Who, falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister’d her report: she is with child; And he that’s father, sentene’d. Enter Juvzrert. Duke. When must he die? Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.— [Vo Jutint] I have provided for you: stay awhile, And you shall be conducted. Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? Jul. Ido; and bear the shame most patiently. by way of giving Angelo his title [see Note 30, Act ii.]; but he, feeling that his own “honour,’’ or rectitude, is in danger, cries “Amen” to her speech, as though it were an aspiration for his moral safety ; and adds, “For I am that way going to temptation, where prayers cross;’’ meaning that he is led by her graces into the very path of temptation, where prayers for the preservation of his honour might come in most availably. ; (50) Corrupt with virtuous season. ‘Grow putrid by purifying influence.’ esides being one of those fine tributes to goodness which Shakespeare sometimes puts into the mouths of vicious characters,—as if involuntarily drawn from them by its irresistible force,—this sentence conveys a fine image, wherein Angelo com- pares Isabella to the violet, her virtue to the sun, and himself to the unsound flesh, which becomes corrupt under the very influence that adds sweetness to the flower. 3 (51) Raze the sanctuary, and pitch our evils there? The allusion here is best explained by qvoting Henley’s words on the subject :— “The desecration of edifices devoted to religion, by converting them to the most abject purposes of nature, was an Eastern method of expressing contempt.’ (52) A gentlewoman of mine. The provost calls Juliet so, because she has been placed under his charge to “ dispose of,’’ and provide Scrne IV. | Duke. Tl teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound, Or hollowly put on. Jul. Pll gladly learn. Duke. Uove you the man that wrong’d you? Jul. Yes,as I love the woman that wrong’d him. Duke. So, then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed ? MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 149 Jul. Ido repent me, as it is an evil, And take the shame with joy. Duke. There rest.*4 Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you!*? Benedictte ! [ Exit. Jul. Must die to-morrow ! Oh, injurious law,*® That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! °Tis pity of Lim. [ Exeunt. Act II. Scene IV. SCENE IV.—A room in AnaEto’s house. Enter ANGELO. Jul. Mutually. Prov. ‘Ratdta! I will Reece thee, Angelo, look for't. Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. Jul. I do confess it, and repent it, father. Duke. °Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do Ang. repent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,— Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not Heaven, Showing, we would not spare Heaven,* as we love it, But as we stand in fear,— with “needful, but not lavish, means”’ (ii. 2). For “ flames” in the next line, the Folio misprints ‘flawes;’ but the word “blis- ter’d,” taken in the sense of scorched, or injured by fire, seems to make “flames’’ the probable word written by Shakespeare. (53) Spare Heaven. That is, ‘spare Heaven our offence,’ ‘refrain from offending Heaven.’ (54) There rest. Remain in that state of mind. (55) Grace go with you! It has been proposed to assign these words to Juliet, making the friar-duke answer her with “ Bene- When I would pray and think, I think and piey To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words ; Whilst my invention,” hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name ; And in my heart the strong and swelling evil dicite!”? asa rejoinder. But, after “must die to-morrow”’ has been uttered, Juliet hears nothing, says nothing, till she finds herself alone, and then passionately repeats the sentence that has left its death-knell on her ear, and absorbed her wholly. (56) Oh, injurious law. Misprinted in the Folio ‘Loue,’ an easy mistake for ‘ Lawe.’ Juliet complains that the law condemns her lover to death, while sparing her to live on without him. (57) Invention. Used here for process of thought, activity of idea, imagination, Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied, Is like a good thing, being often read, Grown sear’d** and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride, Could I, with boot,®® change for an idle plume, Which the air beats for vain. Oh, place! oh, form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit," Wrench awe from fools,*! and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood :® Let’s write good angel on the devil’s horn,® Tis not the devil’s crest. inter Servant. How now! who’s there? Serv. One Isabel, a sister, Desires access to you. Ang. Teach her the way. Oh, heavens ! Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself, And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitness ? So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ; Come all to help him, and so stop the air By which he should revive: and even so The general,” subject to a well-wish’d king, Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. [Hait Servant. Enter IsABELua. How now, fair maid! Isab. I am come to know your pleasure. Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me, Than to demand what ’tis. Isab. Your brother cannot live. Even so.—Heaven keep your honour ! [ Retiring. Ang. Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be, As long as you, or I: yet he must die. Isab. Under your sentence. Ang. Yea. Isab. When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted, That his soul sicken not. Ang. Ha! fie, these filthy vices! good To pardon him that hath from nature stol’n A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness, that do coin Heaven’s image In stamps that are forbid: ’tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made, It were as (58) Sear’d. Misprinted ‘fear’d’ in the Folio; the long s being often mistaken for anf. Shakespeare uses “sear’d”’ in the sense of withered, dry, worn out. (59) With boot. With advantage. (60) Thy case, thy habit. Thy covering, thy exterior garb. (61) Wrench awe from fools, and tie, ¥c. That is, ‘extort veneration from fools, and attach even those who are wiser to thine apparent excellence.’ (62) Blood, thou art blood. “Blood” is here used for natural propensity, inherent disposition. (63) Let’s write good angel, dc. Meaning, ‘We may emblazon evil with the insignia of goodness, but they are not its rightful armorial bearings,’ (64) A sister. Oneof asisterhood,anun. The servant, imagining the novice’s habit worn by Isabella to be that of a nun, announces her as if she had already taken the vows. (65) The general. The multitude, the populace. em a ee we eee 150 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [Acr II. As to put mettle in restrainéd® means, ‘lo make a false one. Isab. *Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. Ang. Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly. Which had you rather,—that the most just law Now took your brother’s life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she that he hath stain’d ? Isab. Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul."7 Ang. I talk not of your soul. Our compell’d sins Stand more for number than for account.® Isab. How say you? Ang. Nay, Pll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this :— I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother’s life : Might there not be a charity in sin, To save this brother’s life ? Isab. Please you to do’t, Pll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. Ang. Pleas’d you to do’t at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity. Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn-prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. Ang. Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so, craftily ; and that’s not good. Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself; as these black masks Proclaim an enshield” beauty ten times louder Than beauty could, display’d.—But mark me; To be receivéd plain, I’ll speak more gross: Your brother is to die. Isab. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears, Accountant to the law upon that pain.7! Isab. True. Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,— As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,”*—that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir’d of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding” law; and that there were (66) Restrainéd. Within the restraint of prohibition, forbidden. (67) Rather give my body than my soul. ‘Rather give my body to death than my soul to perdition.’ (68) Our compell’d sins stand more for number than for account. ‘The sins we are compelled to commit, we must rather enumerate than be accountable for.’ (69) These black masks. The masks usually worn. [See Note 32, Act iv., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.”] Shakespeare and other writers of former time used “these”? when instancing a generality. (70) Enshield. For enshielded; enclosed within protective covering. (71) Upon that pain. ‘On pain of death.’ (72) In the loss of question. ‘Losing sight of the question, merely for the sake of argument.’ (73) All-binding. Misprinted ‘all-building’ in the Folio; the ved eee shows “binding”? (Theobald’s correction) to e right. Scrnz IV.| No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this suppos’d, or else to let him suffer: What would you do? Isab. As much for my poor brother as myself: That is, were I under the terms of death, Th’ impression of keen whips I’d wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That, longing, I’ve be sick for, ere I’d yield My body up to shame. ng. Then must your brother die. Isab. And ’twere the cheaper way : Better it were a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. Ang. Were not you, then, as cruel as the sen- tence That you have slander’d so ? Isab. Ignomy“ in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses :” lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption. Ang. You seem’d of late to make the law a tyrant ; And rather prov’d the sliding of your brother A merriment, than a vice. Isab. Oh, pardon me, my lord: it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean : I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. i Isab. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary,”® but only he, Owe, and succeed thy weakness.” Ang. Nay, women are frail, too. Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- selves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women !—Help heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them.’* Nay, call us ten times frail ; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints.” Ang. I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex,— Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,—let me be bold ;— I do arrest your words. Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you’re none; (74) Ignomy. For ‘ignominy.’ mo) Of two houses. Of different families; derived from separate stocks. (76) Feodary. This word signifies a feudal vassal; also an ac- complice, a confederate, a companion, an associate. Here it com- bines these senses, and means one who holds by common tenure, and one of the human fraternity. (77) Owe, and succeed thy weakness. “Owe” is used for ‘own;’ “succeed,” for ‘inherit;’ “thy weakness” refers to the frailty which Angelo has confessed that he has in common with all man- kind. Therefore the interpretation of the entire passage we take to be this:—‘ Unless we are all frail, let my brother die; if he do not, as one of his human brethren, holding by their common tenure (but singly as he himself alone), possess and succeed to the inheritance of that weakness which you allow is yours as well as men’s.’ (78) Men their creation mar in profiting by them. ‘Men impair their own natures and injure women by taking advantage of them.’ As “their” is used in this sentence, we believe that it has a double reference; Shakespeare sometimes making a relative pronoun (or MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 151 If you be one,—as you are well express’d By all external warrants,—show it now, By putting on the destin’d livery. Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord Let me entreat you speak the former language.*! Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you. Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me That he shall die for’t. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know your virtue hath a license in’t,® Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ’d, And most pernicious purpose !—Seeming, seeming !*°— I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for’t : Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an outstretch’d throat [ll tell the world Aloud what man thou art. Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel ? My unsoil’d name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i’ the state, Will so your accusation overweigh, That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny. I have begun; And now I give my sensual race the rein: Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; Lay by all nicety and prolixious* blushes, That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother ; Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, Pll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your true. [ Hatt. Isab. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? Oh, perilous mouths ! That bear in them one and the selfsame tongue, Hither of condemnation or approof ; Bidding the law make court’sy to their will; Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, To follow as it draws. Ill to my brother: Though he hath fall’n by prompture® of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour, That, had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he’d yield them up, 2 possessive pronoun used relatively) do bi-fold duty in a phrase. “ Help heaven!”’ is equivalent to ‘ Heaven help them!’ (79) Prints. Impressions. (80) I have no tongue but one. throughout.’ (81) Let me entreat you speak the former language. Isabella begs Angelo to resume the tone of conversation he used before he said, “Tll speak more gross;’’ that is, openly, plainly. She would rather he would continue to talk in such a way that she can affect to misunderstand the terms on which he will spare her brother ; and from which she has shrunk from comprehending as long as possible. The poet’s conduct of this difficult scene is a marvel of skill, and proves his insight into womanly nature to be little short of miraculous. ; (82) Your virtue hath a license in’t, which seems, fc. ‘ Your virtue allows itself to seem more fallible than it is, in order to draw me on to confess the like.’ : (83) Seeming. Here used for hypocrisy, simulated virtue. (84) Prolixious. Protractive ; calculated to induce forbearance ‘I have spoken consistently (85) Prompture. Incitement, instigation. 152 Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorr’d pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [Act ITl. More than our brother is our chastity. Pll tell him yet of Angelo’s request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul’s rest. [ Fait. ATG al SCENE I.—A room in the Prison. Enter Duxe disguised as before, CLaupi0, and Provost. Duke. So, then, you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo ? Claud. The miserable have No other medicine, but only hope: I have hope to live, and am prepar’d to die. Duke. Be absolute for death; either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life :— If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,— Servile to all the skyey influences,— That dost this habitation, where thou keep’st,} Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death’s fool ;? For him thou labour’st by thy flight to shun, And yet runn’st toward him still. Thou art not noble ; For all th’ accommodations that thou bear’st Are nurs’d by baseness.2 Thou art by no means valiant ; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm.’ Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok’st ;° yet grossly fear’st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself ; For thou exist’st on many a thousand grains® That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou striv’st to get, And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon.’ If thou art rich, thou art poor; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots* bows, Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none ; For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo,® and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age ; But, as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep, Dreaming on both ; for all thy blessid youth (1) Keep’st. Used for dwell’st, keep’st station. (2) Death’s fool. In old dramatic shows, Death and the fool, or clown-jester, figured together; the latter employed in a perpetual struggle to escape from the former, yet finally falling into his clutches. (3) All th’ accommodations that thow bear’st are nurs’d by baseness. That is, ‘All the advantages of life are supplied from base sources ;’ as food from the slaughter-house and the earthy mould, dwelling- places from the stone-quarry, jewels from beneath the ground. (4) Tender fork of a poor worm. “Fork” seems to signify barbed sting or fang. ‘ Worm”? is a generic name for snakes and serpents; but possibly the worm of the grave may here be meant. (5) Provok’st. For invok’st, or incouragest. (6) Thousand grains. The corn of which daily bread is made. (7) Strange effects, after the moon. ‘Strange effects of colour (in- dicating alteration of mind), according as the moon changes.’ ielele Becomes as agéd, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld ;'° and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths :" yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. Claud. I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die ; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on. Isab. [Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company ! Prov. Who’s there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome. Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. Enter IsaBEua. Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. Prov. And very welecome.—Look, signior ; here’s your sister. Duke. Provost, a word with you. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. [Aside to him] Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be Conceal’d. [Hxeunt Dux and Provost. Claud. Now, sister, what’s the comfort ? Isab. Why, As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift embassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger ;” Therefore your best appointment" make with speed ; To-morrow you set on. Claud. Is there no remedy ? Isab. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. Claud. But is there any ? Isab. Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death. (8) Ingots. Lumps of gold. “Ingot”’ strictly means a mass of metal after it has come from the smelting furnace; and is derived from the Dutch, ingegoten, melted. (9) Serpigo. A cutaneous disorder, a kind of leprosy. (10) Eid. Old people; elderly folk. The sentence, which is very condensedly expressed, requires that we should understand ‘if it were’ between “as” and “aged ;’’ the meaning being— thy youth becomes as if it were aged, carkingly coveting those things that belong to old people,’—such as riches, experience, &e. (11) More thousand deaths. Meaning, ‘A thousand more deaths than I have enumerated, or than the one that is life’s ending.’ (12) Leiger. A permanently resident embassador; in contra- distinction to an envoy, one temporarily sent on a mission to a foreign court. (13) Appointment. Preparation. Here used in the sense of outfit, W,THOMAS.Se. WNT MNVIOA ‘NS oy DATTA = SAM reir, S ~ LZ BEEZ 33m, LZAAZZE SSS SSS ee is a fearful thing. Act III. Scene I. . B ! Death O Isabel What says my brother Claudio. Isabella. Claudio. 20 Scenz I.] Claud. Perpetual durance ? Isab. Ay, just; perpetual durance,—a restraint, Though all the world’s vastidity you had, To a determin’d scope. Claud. But in what nature ? Isab. In such a one as, you consenting to’t, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,'® And leave you naked. Claud. Let me know the point. Isab. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,!® And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar’st thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.!” Claud. Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness?'* If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms. Isab. There spake my brother; there my father’s grave Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy— Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth 7 the head, and follies doth enmew,” As falcon doth the fowl—is yet a devil; His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. Claud. The priestly Angelo?” Isab. Oh, ’tis the cunning livery of hell, The foulest body to invest and cover In priestly guards!*! Dost thou think, Claudio,— If I would yield him my virginity, Thou mightst be freed ? Claud. Oh, heavens! it cannot be. or equipment for a voyage, and in that of spiritual supplyment; with which Isabella bids her brother provide himself. (4) A restraint, . . . . . to a determin’d scope. ‘A moral restriction to one sole idea,—that of voluntarily incurred infamy.’ (15) Bark your honour from, &e. A metaphorical allusion to stripping trees of their bark. : (16) Entertain. Used for ‘hold too dear,’ ‘ estimate too highly,’ “overprize.’ : (17) The sense of death, &c. We take the interpretation of this passage to be:—* The feeling of death lies most in fearing it; its mere bodily pain is no more than is experienced by the beetle in common with the giant.’ (18) Think you I can a resolution fetch from flowery tenderness? Tt has been thought that there should be a full stop instead of a point of interrogation after this sentence; in which case, “ Think you,’ would be used in the imperative mood, and “ flowery tenderness”’ would refer to the image of “ darkness as a bride.’’ However, not only does the Folio print the sentence as a question, but Shake- speare always uses “Think you” as a form of demand; therefore, we come to the conclusion that here Claudio asks his sister whether she thinks he can derive courage from a figurative illustration,— that of the “ poor beetle.”’ (19) Follies dothenmew. “ Enmew” isa technical term in falconry for encage, or retain in the mew used to keep hawksin. But here the word is rather employed for enclosing with intent to destroy, as the falcon soars and circles round the fowl it makes its prey. (20) The priestly Angelo? The Folio misprints ‘prenzie’ for “priestly” here and three lines farther on. Several substitutions have been proposed: such as ‘princely’ (2nd Folio), ‘ precise’ (Tieck), ‘primzie’ (Singer), ‘rev’rend’ (Staunton); but Warburton’s suggestion, “priestly,’’ appears to us to be the most probable correction, as coming nearest to the misprinted word, while best supplying the sense required in both the places where it occurs. (21) Guards. Would yet he had SCENE V.—Fields without the Town. Enter Duxn in his own habit, and Friar Peter. Duke. These letters at fit time deliver me. [Giving letters. The provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, And hold you ever to our special drift ; Though sometimes you do blench from this to that,” As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius’ house, And tell him where I stay: give the like notice To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bia them bring the trumpets to the gate ; But send me Flavius first. Fri. P. It shall be speeded well. [vit Enter Varrivs. Duke. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste : Come, we will walk. There’s other of our friends Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. [ Hxeunt. SCENE VI.—Street near the City-gate. Enter Isapretua and Mariana. Isab. To speak so indirectly I am loath: I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, That is your part: yet I am advis’d to do it ; He says, to veil full purpose.” Mari. ; Be rul’d by him. Isab. Besides, he tells me, that if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange ; for ’tis a physic That’s bitter to sweet end. Mari. I would, Friar Peter— Isab. O, peace! the friar is come. Enter Friar Peter. Fri. P. Come; I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such ’vantage on the duke, (69) Bears so credent bulk. For “ so” the Folio gives ‘of a;’ which has been variously altered by various editors. We adopt Mr. Dyce’s correction, because it best consists with “that no” in the following line. “‘ Credent bulk’’ means large-sized credit, credit of large amount or weight; “credent”’ stands for that which may be credited or believed. (70) Particular. Shakespeare often uses this word for private, individual; French, particulier. (71) Blench. Start away; deviate by fits and starts. (72) To veil full purpose. To keep unseen the whole of his inten- tion. This stands in the Folio ‘to vaile full purpose;’ and some editors give ‘ to ’vailful purpose.’ 172 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. He shall not pass you. sounded ; The generous and gravest citizens” Twice have the trumpets pAcraVs Have hent’ the gates, and very near upon The duke is ent’ring: therefore, hence, away ! | Hxeunt. Ar Caley SCENE I.—A public place near the City-gate. Marzna veiled, Isapetia, and Friar Perer, at a distance. Enter, from one side, DuxEe im his own habit, Varrius, Lords; from the other, ANGELO, Escatus, Lucro, Provost, Officers, and Citizens. Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met :— Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. Ang. Escal. Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made enquiry of you; and we hear Such goodness of your justice, that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital. . Ang. You make my bonds still greater. Duke. Oh, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence ’gainst the tooth of time, And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand, And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within.—Come, Hscalus ; You must walk by us on our other hand ;— And good supporters are you. } Happy return be to your royal grace! Friar Perer and Isanenta come forward. Fri. P. Now is your time: speak loud, and kneel before him. Tsab. Justice, oh, royal duke! Vail! your regard Upon a wrong’d, [ would fain have said, a maid! Oh, worthy prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object, Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And given me justice, justice, justice, justice ! Duke. Relate your wrongs : in what? by whom? Be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice : Reveal yourself to him. Isab. Oh, worthy duke, (73) Generous and gravest citizens. The word “generous”’ here is used in the sense borne by the Latin generosi; high-born, of noble rank. The sentence affords an instance of a positive and a superla- tive being employed together, as was not uncommon in Shake- speare’s time. (74) Hent. Taken; from the Saxon hencan, to take, catch, seize, or A, hold of. Here it seems to mean taken possession of, occu- pied. (1) Vail. Lower, bend down. 5 (2) Absolute. Shakespeare sometimes uses this word to express * complete in excellence,’ ‘accomplished in all merit.’ You bid me seek redemption of the devil : Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak, Must either punish me, not being believ’d, Or wring redress from you: hear me, oh, hear me, here ! Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm: She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, Cut off by course of justice,— Isab. By course of justice ! Ang. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange. Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will 1 speak : That Angelo’s forsworn ; is it not strange ? That Angelo’s a murderer ; is’t not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, A hypocrite, a virgin-violator ; Is it not strange, and strange ? Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange. Isab. Tt is not truer he is Angelo, Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true ; for truth is truth To th’ end of reckoning. Duke. Away with her !—Poor soul, She speaks this in th’ infirmity of sense. Isab. Oh, prince, I cénjure thee, as thou believ’st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch’d with madness! Make not im- possible That which but seems unlike : ’tis not impossible, But one, the wicked’st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute? As Angelo; even so may Angelo, Tn all his dressings, characts,’ titles, forms, Be an arch-villain : believe it, royal prince : Tf he be less, he’s nothing ; but he’s more, Had I more name for badness. Duke. By mine honesty, Tf she be mad,—as I believe no other,— Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e’er I heard in madness.‘ (3) Dressings, characts. “ Dressings”? is used for exterior assump- tions, moral as well as official; “ characts’’ are inscriptions, mottoes. (4) As e’er I heard in madness. Mr. Singer suspects the “as” not to be Shakespeare’s word in this sentence; and Mr. Staunton proposes to change “e’er’’ into “ne’er’ But Dr. Bucknill (in his fine work, “The Psychology of Shakespeare”’) accepts the passage as it stands; commenting on it as an instance of Shakespeare’s thorough knowledge of the right tests whereby to detect insanity. The duke begins by repeating his conviction that Isabella is mad, and then follows it up by saying that her madness has just that strange appearance of sense and connection which sometimes, though rarely, is heard from those who are mad. Then she, Scens [.] Tsab. Oh, gracious duke, Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality ; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true.® Duke. Many that are not mad, Have, sure, more lack of reason.—What would you say ? Tsab. a am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn’d, by statute for unchastity, ———— MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 173 Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray Heaven you then Be perfect.° Lucio. I warrant your honour. Duke. The warrant’s for yourself; take heed to it. Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,— Incio. Right. Duke. Tt may be right ; but you are i’ the wrong To speak before your time.—Proceed. ee —==_™ Sez SS Lucio. Show your knave’s visage, show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour. Will’t not off? Duke. To lose his head; condemn’d by Angelo. I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother ; one Lucio As then the messenger,— Lucio. That’s I, an’t like your grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desir’d her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo, For her poor brother’s pardon. Isab. That’s he indeed. Duke. You were not bid to speak. Lucio. No, my good lord ; Nor wish’d to hold my peace. Duke. I wish you now, then ; dreading lest her eagerness should give an air of disconnection to what she says, bids him “not banish reason for inequality ;”’ in other words, ‘not believe her devoid of reason on account of incoherency or inconsistency.’ (5) And hide the false seems true. The “where it” of the previous [Pulls off the friar’s hood, and discovers the Duke. Thou art the first knave that e’er made a duke. Act V. Scene f. Isab. I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy,— Duke. That’s somewhat madly spoken. Isab. Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter. Duke. Mended again. The matter ;—proceed. Isab. In brief,—to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray’d, and kneel’d, How he refell’d? me, and how I replied,— For this was of much length,—the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter: He would not, but by gift of my chaste body, Release my brother ; and, after much debatement, line is understood, as if repeated, between “ false” and “‘seems;” and then the meaning will be, ‘And hide (quench, or overwhelm) the false where it seems true.’ (6) Perfect. Blameless, immaculate, free from fault. (7) Refeld. Refuted, repressed, repulsed; Latin, refello. 174 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. My sisterly remorse® confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother’s head. Duke. This is most likely! Isab. Oh, that it were as like as it is true !° Duke. By Heaven, fond’? wretch! thou know’st not what thou speak’st, Or else thou art suborn’d against his honour In hateful practice. First, his integrity Stands without blemish: next, it imports no reason That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himself:!? if he had so offended, He would have weigh’d thy brother by himself, And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on: Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou cam’st here to complain. Isab. And is this all? Then, oh, you blesséd ministers above, Keep me in patience ; and, with ripen’d time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance !*—Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong’d, hence unbelievéd go! Duke. I know you’d fain be gone.—An officer ! To prison with her !—Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.— Who knew of your intent and coming hither ? Isab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodo- wick. Duke. A ghostly father,’ belike—Who knows that Lodowick ? Lucio. My lord, I know him; ’tis a meddling friar ; I do not like the man: had he been lay,!° my lord, For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. Duke. Words against me! This’ a good friar, belike ! 16 And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute !—Let this friar be found. Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. Fre. P. Bless’d be your royal grace | I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abus’d. First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accus’d your substitute, Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one unborn. Duke. We did believe no less. Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of ? fri. P. I know him for a man divine and holy ; (8) Remorse. Pity, commiseration. (9) As like as it is true! As like truth as it is true. (10) Fond. Foolish. (11) Practice. Device perpetrated in conspiracy, or by col- lusion. (12) Faults proper to himself. belonging to, or committed by. (13) Countenance. Used here for delusive appearance. (14) A ghostly father. A spiritual director ; a man belonging to a religious order. (15) Lay. Of the laity, a layman. (16) This’ a good friar, belike! For ‘this is perhaps a good friar !’ “Proper to” is here used for [Act V. Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,!” As he’s reported by this gentleman ; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. Incio. My lord, most villainously ; believe it. Fri. P. Well, he in time may come to clear him- self; But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request,'!’— Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended ’gainst Lord Angelo,—came I hither, To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false ; and what he, with his oath And all probation, will make up full clear, Whensoever he’s convented.'® First, for this woman,— To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly”° and personally accus’d,— Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it. Duke. Good friar, let’s hear it. [TsaBELa is carried off guarded ; and Mariana comes forward. Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo ?— O Heaven, the vanity of wretched fools !— Give us some seats.—Come, cousin Angelo, In this P’ll be impartial :*! be you judge Of your own cause.—Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face, and after speak. Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me. Duke. What, are you married? Mari. No, my lord. Duke. Are you a maid ? Mari. No, my lord. Duke. A widow, then? Mari. Neither, my lord. Duke. Why, you Are nothing, then :—neither maid, widow, nor wife ? Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne’er was married ; And I confess, besides, I am no maid: I have known my husband; yet my husband knows not That ever he knew me. Inucio. He was drunk, then, my lord: it can be no better. Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! LInucio. Well, my lord. Duke. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. Mari. Now I come to’t, my lord: She that accuses him of unchastity, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband ; And charges him, my lord, with such a time When [ll depose, I had him in mine arms. Ang. Charges she more than me? Mae this form of abbreviation in Shakespeare, and writers of s time. (17) Temporary meddler. Used here for meddler in temporal affairs, or worldly matters; in contradistinction to “a man divine and holy.” (18) Upon his mere request. As we should now say, ‘at his par- ticular request.’ (19) Convented. Summoned, cited. (20) Vulgarly. Used here in its sense of publicly (Latin, vulgo), and in that of coarsely. An instance of Shakespeare’s way of com- bining varied meanings in one word. (21) Impartial. Not taking part; remaining neutral. Scenr [.] Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No? you say your husband. Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo. Ang. This isa strange abuse.”*—Let’s see thy face. Mari. My husband bids me; now I will un- mask, [Unveiling. This is the face, thou cruel Angelo, ; Which once thou swor’st was worth the looking on; This is the hand which, with a vow’d contract, Was fast belock’d in thine; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagin’d person. Duke. Know you this woman ? Ang. _ My lord, I must confess I know this woman: And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly, for that her promiséd proportions Came short of composition ;* but in chief, For that her reputation was disvalu’d In levity : since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. Mari. Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath, As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, T am affiane’d this man’s wife as strongly As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone, in’s garden-house, He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees; Or else for ever be confixéd here, A marble monument ! Ang. I did but smile till now: Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ; My patience here is touch’d. I do perceive These poor informal*™ women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member, That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out. Duke. _ Ay, with my heart ; And punish them to your height of pleasure.— Thou foolish friar ; and thou pernicious woman, Compact” with her that’s gone, think’st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit, That’s seal’d in approbation ?°—You, Lord Kscalus, Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence ’tis deriv’d.— There is another friar that set them on ; Let him be sent for. Fri. P. Would he were here, my lord! for he, indeed, Hath set the women on to this complaint: Your provost knows the place where he abides, And he may fetch him. (22) Abuse. Delusion; attempted abusion of our belief. (23) Her promiséd proportions came short of composition. Her fortune, promised to be in proportion with mine, came short of what was compounded for or agreed upon. 24) Informal. Deranged; of disordered intellect. 25) Compact. Joined in conspiracy. (6) Seal’d in approbation. Bears the seal of proof and approval. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 175 Duke. Go do it instantly. [Hxit Provosr. And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,?” Do with your injuries as seems you best, In any chastisement: I for awhile Will leave you; but stir not you, till you have well Determinéd upon these slanderers. Fiscal. My lord, we’ll do it throughly. [Hvit Doxs.] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ? Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum :% honest in nothing, but in his clothes ; and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the duke. Escal, We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow. Incio. As any in Vienna, on my word. Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again: I would speak with her. [Hwit an Attendant. |\—Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall see how Ill handle her.— Re-enter Officers with IsaBELua. [To Isasz.] Come on, mistress: here’s a gentlewoman denies all that you have said. Lucio, My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here, with the provost. Escal. In very good time :—speak not you to him, till we call upon you. Lucio. Mum. Re-enter Duxn disguised as a Friar, and Provosvr. Fiscal. Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did. Duke. Tis false. Escal. How! know you where you are ? Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the devil Be sometime honour’d for his burning throne !— Where is the duke? *tis he should hear me speak, Escal. The duke’s in us; and we will hear you speak : Look you speak justly. Duke. Boldly, at least.—But, oh, poor souls ! Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox ? Good night to your redress. Is the duke gone? Then is your cause gone too. The duke’s unjust, Thus to retort” your manifest appeal, And put your trial in the villain’s mouth Which here you come to accuse. Lucio. This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. Fiscal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow’d friar ! Is’t not enough thou hast suborn’d these women To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth, And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain? and then to glance from him (27) To hear this matter forth. through. (28) Cucullus non facit monachum. ‘The hood makes not the monk.’ A Latin proverbial expression. . (29) Retort. Answer by throwing back, casting into other jurisdiction. To hear this matter out, or 176 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice ?— Take him hence: to the rack with him :—We’ll touze you Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose.”°— What! unjust ? Duke. Be not so hot; the duke dare No more stretch this finger of mine, than he Dare rack his own: his subject am I not, Nor here provincial.*! My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o’er-run the stew; laws for all faults, But faults so countenane’d, that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber’s shop,” As much in mock as mark. Hscal. Slander to the state !—Away with him to prison ! Ang. What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of ? Lucio. °Tis he, my lord.—Come hither, goodman baldpate : do you know me? Duke. IT remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice : I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke. Lucio. Oh, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke? Duke. Most notedly, sir. Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be ? Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. Inucio. Oh, thou pernicious fellow! pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches ? Duke. I protest I love the duke as I love myself. Ang. Hark, how the villain would close*? now, after his treasonable abuses. fiscal. Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. —Away with him to prison !—Where is the provost? —Away with him to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more.—Away with those giglots** too, and with the other confederate com- panion | [The Provost lays hands on the Duxs. Duke. Stay, sir; stay awhile. Ang. What, resists he ?—Help him, Lucio. Inucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh! sir, Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must Did not I (30) His purpose. It has been proposed to substitute ‘ your,’ or ‘this,’ for “ his;” but Escalus, in his warmth, addresses his speech first to the by-standers, then to the friar-duke, then again to the by-standers. (31) Nor here provincial. Nor accountable to the jurisdiction of this province. (82) Forfeits in a barber’s shop. It was formerly the custom to have a list of regulations, with the forfeits (or fines) imposed for breaking them, hung up in barbers’ shops, which were the resort of idlers; but being of a comic character, and there being no real authority to enforce them, these “ forfeits” were held in little reverence, and stood “as much in mock as mark.” (33) Close. This has been changed to ‘ gloze;’ but Shakespeare here, and elsewhere, uses “close”? to express ‘agree with,’ ‘come round to the same opinion with.’ (34) Giglots. Light women. (35) Sheep-biting. A cant term for petty thieving. (36) Be hanged an hour! “ An hour,” used thus, seems to have been a vulgar way of saying protractedly, or lingeringly ; as now [Aon V: be hooded, must you? Show your knave’s visage, show your sheep-biting® face, and be hanged an hour !*° Will’t not off? [Pulls off the Friar’s hood, and discovers the Duxe. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e’er made a duke.— First, provost, let me bail these gentle three.— [Vo Lucto] Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you Must have a word anon.—Lay hold on hin. Lucio. This-may prove worse than hanging. Duke. [To Hscatus] What you have spoke I pardon: sit you down :— We'll borrow place of him.—[{7o AncELo] Sir, by your leave. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office? IRf thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. Ang. Oh, my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your grace, like power divine, Hath look’d upon my passes.*” Then, good prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession : Immediate sentence then, and sequent death Is all the grace I beg. Duke. Come hither, Mariana.— Say, wast thou e’er contracted to this woman ? Ang. Iwas, my lord. Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her in- stantly.— Do you the office, friar ; which consummate, Return him here again.—Go with him, provost. [ Exeunt AncELO, Mariana, FRiaR Perer, and Provost. Escal. My lord, I am more amaz’d at his dis- honour, Than at the strangeness of it. Duke. Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince: as I was then Advértising and holy to your business,* Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney’d at your service.” Isab. Oh, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ’d and pain’d Your unknown sovereignty ! we say ‘die by inches.’ In Ben Jonson’s “ Alchemist” there is mention of ‘a man that had been strangled an hour.’ (37) Passes. Seems to be employed here for ‘passages of mis- conduct,’ ‘evil courses.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses “pass’”’ for ‘passage ;’ and he uses “passages” precisely in the sense here required, where the king says to his son— “Thou dost, in thy passages of life, Make me believe that thou art only mark’d For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven, To punish my mistreadings.’’ 1 Hen. IV., iii. 2. (38) Advértising and holy to your business. _“ Advertising,” if derived from the Latin adverto, means regardful, observant; if from the French avertir, it means monitory, vigilant, to warn and give information; and this is the sense in which Shakespeare uses “alvertise’ and ‘advertisement.’ Probably the word “advertising ” is intended to convey somewhat of allthe above meanings. “Holyieg here stands for ‘ devoted,’ ‘ consecrated.’ : (39) I am still attorney'd at your service. I hold myself still engaged or retained to be employed for you. Scene I.] Duke. You are pardon’d, Isabel: And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.*° Your brother’s death, I know, sits at your heart: And you may marvel why I obscur’d myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance*! of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. Oh, most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain’d my purpose :—but, peace be with him! That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear; make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. Isab. I do, my lord. Re-enter AncELo, Mariana, Friar Perer, and Provost. Duke. For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt” imagination yet hath wrong’d Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana’s sake: but as he adjudg’d your brother,— Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother’s life,— The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue,* “An Angelo for Claudio, death for death !” Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; Like doth quit like,“4 and Measure still for Measure. Then, Angelo, thy fault thus manifested,— Which, though thou would’st deny, denies thee *vantage,”— We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop’d to death, and with like haste.— Away with him! Mari. Oh, my most gracious lord ! I hope you will not mock me with a husband. Duke. Jt is your husband mock’d you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit: else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life, And choke your.good to come. For his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. Marv. Oh, my dear lord! I crave no other, nor no better man. Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive. Mari. [Kneeling.| Gentle my liege,— Duke. You do but lose your labour.— (40) Free. Used here for liberal, generous. (41) Remonstrance. Literally, ‘showing again.’ The duke says Isabella may wonder that he did not make a sudden re-display of that power he had laid aside and concealed for a time, rather than let her brother be lost. (42) Salt. Shakespeare often uses this word, as here, for ‘im- pure,’ ‘immoral.’ (43) His proper tongue. His own tongue. French, propre. (44) Like doth quit like. Like doth requite like. _ (45) Denies thee vantage. Forbids thy deriving advantage from its confession. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 177 Away with him to death !—[To Lucio] Now, sir, to you. Mari. Oh, my good lord!—Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and, all my life to come, Pll lend you all my life to do you service. Duke. Against all sense*® you do impértune her: Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother’s ghost his pavéd bed would break, And take her hence in horror. Mari. Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me: Hold up your hands, say nothing,—I’ll speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults ; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband. O Isabel, will you not lend a knee ? Duke. He dies for Claudio’s death. Isab. [Kneeling.] Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemn’d, As if my brother liv’d. I partly think, A due sincerity govern’d his deeds, Till he did look on me: since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died - For Angelo, His act did not o’ertake his bad intent ; And must be buried but as an intent That perish’d by the way: thoughts are no subjects ; Intents but merely thoughts.‘7 Mari. Merely, my lord. Duke. Your suit’s unprofitable; stand up, I say.— T have hethought me of another fault.—- Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour ? Prov. It was commanded so. Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed ? Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private message. Duke. For which I do discharge you of your office : Give up your keys. Prov. Pardon me, noble lord: I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice : For testimony whereof, one in that prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserv’d alive. Duke. What’s he ? Prov. His name is Barnardine. Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.— Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [ Hait Provost. Escal. Iam sorry one so learnéd and so wise (46) Sense. Here used for both ‘ reason’ and ‘ feeling.’ ; (47) Intents but merely thoughts. Even this nobly magnanimous speech of Isabella’s has been misinterpreted by prejudiced critics, and turned against her. Yet surely the benign forbearance, the spirit of justice, the strictly equitable distinction between inten- tion and act in guilt, that Shakespeare has here put into her mouth who is the embodiment of virtue and purity in this play, might serve to enthrone her in our regard as one of the finest-souled women among his heroines. In so passing a point as that line of the provost’s, “I thought it was a fault, but knew it not,” the poet has carried on the moral he inculcates in this play,—the nice 23 178 As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear’d, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood, And lack of temper’d judgment afterward. Ang. 1am sorry that such sorrow I procure: And go deep sticks it in my penitent heart, That I crave death more willingly than mercy ; *Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. Re-enter Provost, with BARNARDINE, CLaupIo muffled, and JULIET. Duke. Which is that Barnardine ? Prov. This, my lord. Duke. There was a friar told me of this man.— Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, That apprehends no farther than this world, And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt condemn’d: But, for those earthly faults,** I quit them all ; And pray thee, take this mercy to provide For better times to come.—Friar, advise him ; I leave him to your hand.—What muffled fellow’s that ? Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav’d, Who should have died when Claudio lost his head ; As like almost to Claudio as himself. [ Unmufiles CLaupio. Duke. [To Isapetia] If he be like your brother, for his sake Ts he pardon’d; and, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand, and say you will be mine,— He is my brother too :—but fitter time for that. By this, Lord Angelo perceives he’s safe : Methinks I see a quick’ning in his eye.— Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well:® Look that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours.— T find an apt remission in myself; And yet here’s one in place I cannot pardon.— [To Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman ; shades of distinction between motive and act, thought and deed, error and guilt, mistake and sin, together with their due degrees of rebuke, retribution, and punishment. (48) Earthly faults. Faults committed against earthly laws. “TI quit them all” means ‘I acquit you of them all.’ The duke’s extension of “mercy to provide for better times to come” to this hardened sinner, affords a grand lesson on the duty of sparing for repentance those who have been made criminals by gaol-teaching and neglectful rulers. (49) Your evil quits you well. This sentence bears comprehensive interpretation: it is equivalent to ‘your course of evil leaves you befittingly ;’ ‘the fear you have suffered acquits you of your mis- deeds ;’ and ‘ you receive in requital good for evil.’ MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [Acti Ve Wherein have I so deserv’d of you, That you extol me thus ? Lucio. Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may ; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped. Ri Duke. Whipp’d first, sir, and hang’d after.— Proclaim it, provost, round about the city, If any woman’s wrong’d by this lewd fellow,— As I have heard him swear, himself, there’s one,— Let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish’d, Let him be whipp’d and hang’d. Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a bad woman! Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: good my lord, do not re- compense me in making me a gull. Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits.*!\—Take him to prison ; And see our pleasure herein executed. Iucio. Marrying a slut, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. [ Exeunt Officers with Lucto. She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you restore.— Joy to you, Mariana !—Love her, Angelo : I have confess’d her, and I know her virtue.— Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness : There’s more behind that is more gratulate.*°— Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy : We shall employ thee in a worthier place.— Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio’s : The offence pardons itself—Dear Isabel, T have a motion much imports your good ; Whereto if you’ll a willing ear incline, What’s mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.— So, bring us to our palace ; where we’ll show What’s yet behind, that’s meet you all should know. | Hxeunt. (50) Trick. Thoughtless practice ; idle fashion. (51) Forfeits. May here mean fines, penalties; or misdeeds, transgressions. French, forfaits. 'The context, “thy slanders I forgive,” seems to warrant the latter interpretation. (52) There’s more behind that is more gratulate. “‘Gratulate” is here used for ‘subject of congratulation. We take this line to refer to the duke’s intention of espousing Isabella; with which his mind is so much occupied, that he reverts to it three times in the course of this last speech ;—first, by the above line; second, by the words “Dear Isabel,” &c.; third, by the concluding line of the play. Moreover, this iteration is a skilful resource of the dramatist to unre that intention of the duke’s upon the audience, or readers. =e TT Het ! ee : LE —< ZED 2) LZ gZ aah Al | MEDY DP ae TTT DRAMATIS PERSON At. ——e>e—— Soninus, duke of Ephesus. AicgEon, a merchant of Syracuse. Antrpnowus of Ephesus, ) twin brothers, and sons to AntrpHouus of Syracuse, A#geon and Aimilia Dromio of Ephesus, ) twin brothers, and attendants Dromio of Syracuse, on the two Antipholuses. BauTHazar, a merchant. AncGELo, a goldsmith. First Merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse. Second Merchant, to whom Angelo is a debtor. Prycu, a schoolmaster, and a conjuror. Jiuaia, wife to Hgeon, an abbess at Ephesus. Apriana, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus. Luciana, her sister. Luce, servant to Adriana. A Courtesan. Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants. ScenE—Lphesus. S THE COMEDY OF ERRORS: AGL Ee SCENE I.—A hall in the Duxn’s Palace. Enter Duxr, Maxon, Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants. Age. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, And by the doom of death end woes and all. Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more. I am not partial to infringe our laws: The enmity and discord which of late Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,— Who, wanting gilders? to redeem their lives, Have seal’d his rigorous statutes with their blood,— Excludes all pity from our threat’ning looks. For, since the mortal and intestine jars *Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, It hath in solemn synods? been decreed, Both by the Syracusans and ourselves, To admit no traffic to our adverse towns : Nay, more, if any born at Ephesus Be seen at Syracusan marts and fairs ; Again, if any Syracusan born Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, His goods confiscate to the duke’s dispose ; Unless a thousand marks be leviéd, To quit the penalty and to ransom him. Thy substance, valu’d at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ; Therefore, by law thou art condemn’d to die. (1) The first known copy of this play is in the 1623 Folio. There is allusion to it in the “ Palladis Tamia” of Meres, 1598, which shows its first appearance to have been prior to that date; and, indeed, internal evidence manifests its having been one of Shake- Speare’s earliest compositions. The source of its plot is found in the “‘ Menechmi”’ of Plautus, of which it is supposed some English translation fell into Shakespeare’s hands; but we, who are not sceptics as to his knowledge of Greek and Latin, can well believe that he met with the original comedy among his school classics while still a lad. Latin was a more general accomplishment in Elizabeth’s day than it is at present; and even in the Stratford grammar-school it was most probably taught among other studies. If, as we imagine possible, Shakespeare had a short period of college learning, then an acquaintance with Latin was sure to have Age. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun. Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause Why thou departed’st from thy native home, And for what cause thou cam’st to Ephesus. Aige. A heavier task could not have been impos’d Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable : Yet, that the world may witness that my end Was wrought by nature,‘ not by vile offence, Pll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. In Syracusa was I born; and wed Unto a woman, happy but for me, And by me too, had not our hap been bad. With her I liv’d in joy ; our wealth increas’d By prosp’rous 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—almost at fainting under The pleasing punishment that women bear— Had made provision for her following me, And soon and safe arrivéd 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, been made by such a mind as his, in what would have been an incredibly brief space of time for a youth of ordinary talent. (2) Gilders. A “gilder,” or guilder, is a coin worth from one and sixpence to two shillings. (3) Synods. State councils. . (4) My end was wrought by nature. Aigeon means that this pass to which he is come was occasioned by his natural affection, which prompted him to seek his lost sons. ’ a . (5) And the great care of goods. In the Folio, ‘he’ is misprinted for “‘the’”’ (Theobald’s correction). : ’ (6) Distinguish’d but by names. We must imagine that the four boys had originally some distinguishing appellation; but _after- wards, one of each pair of twins, in remembrance of his lost brother, took his name. This we find indicated in the line, “ Reft eee 182 A poor mean 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 obscuréd 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 plainings of the pretty babes, That mourn’d for fashion, ignorant what to fear, Fore’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, 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, Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought. At length, the sun, gazing upon the earth, Dispers’d those vapours that offended us ; And, by the benefit of his wish’d light, The seas wax’d calm, and we discoveréd Two ships from far making amain to us; Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this : But ere they came,—oh, let me say no more! Gather the sequel by that went before. Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break off SO 5 For we may pity, though not pardon thee. - Aige. Oh, 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 of us, Fortune had left to both of us alike of his brother, but retain’d his name.” 'That the two pair of twins should be named alike was necessary for the maintenance of the dramatic equivoke. (7) A poor mean woman. The first Folio prints this line without the word “poor,” which was added in the second Folio, and has been given in all editions since. The recurrence of that word two lines farther on has been pointed out as making it improbable that “poor” is what Shakespeare wrote here; but “meanly”’ also comes very soon after ““mean’’ in the speech. Moreover, the word “poor’”’ being first used, and then “ exceeding poor,’’ is not unlike one of those emphatic repetitions which our dramatist occasionally em- ploys to mark a point that he wishes to impress on his audience, and which here accounts for the “ parents’’ selling their new-born children. (8) Instance. (9) Healthful. Used here for indication. Used here for salutary, advantageous. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [ Aorah What to delight in, what to sorrow for. Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdenéd 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 their shipwreck’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 favour to dilate at full What hath befall’n of them, and thee, till now. Age. My youngest boy,'° and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother; and impértun’d me That his attendant—for his case was like,!! Reft of his brother, but retained 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 farthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia ; And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus, Hopeless to find, yet loth to leave unsought Or that, or any place that harbours men. But here must end the story of my life ; And happy were I in my timely death, Could all my travels warrant me they live. Duke. Hapless Aigeon, 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,— My soul should sue as advocate for thee. But, though thou art adjudgéd to the death, . And passéd sentence may not be recall’d But to our honour’s great disparagement, Yet will I favour thee in what I can: Therefore, merchant, ll 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.— Gaoler, take him to thy custody. (10) My youngest boy. It seems, though the mother, “more careful for the latter-born, had fastened him’’ to the mast, yet that she had herself become fastened to the other end where her elder twin son was secured; and thus, being somewhat confusedly described (perhaps to give the effect of the confusion of the wzeck)s some commentators have accused Shakespeare of oversight ere. (11) For his case was like. ‘Because his case was similar.’ “For” is printed in the second Folio instead of ‘so’ in the first Folio. (12) To seek thy help by beneficial help. It has been proposed to substitute other words that may obviate the repetition of “help”’ in this line. But that very repetition has something in it of Shakespeare’s style, and the sentence may be interpreted to mean, ‘T'll give you the extent of this day to seek for aid by charitable assistance.’ (13) Ifno. No” was often used formerly for ‘ not.’ Scenz IT.] : Gaol. I will, my lord. Aige. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ajgeon wend,'4 But to procrastinate his lifeless end. | Hxeunt. SCENE II.—A Public Place. Enter AnvipHouvs of Syracuse, Dromio of Syracuse, and First Merchant. First Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epi- damnum, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day a Syracusan merchant Is apprehended for arrival here ; And, not being able to buy out his life, According to the statute of the town, Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. There is your money that I had to keep. Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,'° And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinner-time : Till that, Pll view the manners of the town, Peruse the traders,'® gaze upon the buildings, And then return, and sleep within mine inn ; For with long travel I am stiff and weary. Get thee away. Dro. S.. Many a man would take you at your word, And go indeed, having so good a mean. | Hatt. Ant. S.A trusty villain,” sir; that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What! will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn, and dine with me ? First Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain mer- chants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit ; I crave your pardon. Soon at five o’clock,'® Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, And afterward consort you"? till bed-time : My present business calls me from you now. Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose myself, And wander up and down to view the city. First Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. [ Hatt. Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water, That in the ocean seeks another drop ; Who, falling there, to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, in quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.— Here comes the almanac of my true date.” (14) Wend. See Note 61, Act iv., “ Measure for Measure.”’ (1S Where we host. To “host’’ was to take up quarters, as at a hostelry or inn. (16) Peruse the traders. ‘Observe or examine the vendors of mer- chandise ;’ in other words, ‘look into the shop-windows.’ (17) A trusty villain. A faithful bondman or vassal. The Dromios were bowrht servitors; and “villain” was often used thus, without any sense of wickedness in the term. (18) Soon at five o’clock. Towards five o’clock. é Z “Soon’”’ was formerly sometimes used as we now use ‘ by-and-by. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 183 Enter Dromio of Ephesus. What now? how chance thou art return’d so soon ? Dro. H. Return’d so soon! rather approach’d too late: The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit; The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,— My mistress made it one upon my cheek : She is so hot, because the meat is cold; The meat is cold, because you come not home ; You come not home, because you have no stomach ; You have no stomach, having broke your fast ; But we, that know what ’tis to fast and pray, Are penitent”! for your default to-day. Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, I pray,— Where have you left the money that I gave you? Dro. EH. Oh,—sixpence, that I had o’ Wednes- day last To pay the saddler for my mistress’ crupper :— The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not. Ant. S. Iam 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 ? Dro. H. I 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. Ant. 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 ? Dro. E. To me, sir! why, you gave no gold to me. Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast dispos’d thy charge. Dro. EH. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phcenix, sir, to dinner : My mistress and her sister stay for you. Ant. 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™ of yours, That stands on tricks when I am undispos’d : Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my ate, 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. Ant. S. Thy mistress’ marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou? (19) Consort you. In familiar parlance, ‘keep you company.’ (20) The almanac of my true date. Dromio being born in the same hour with his master, certifies the date of his birth. (21) Penitent. Doing penance. ; . (22) In post. “In post’? means, ‘in post haste;’ and Dromio’s second use of the word refers to the practice of scoring up reckonings by chalk marks or notches on a “post’’ in the shop or warehouse. (23) Bestow’d. For stowed away, placed in safety. (24) Sconce. Head. 184 Dro. 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. Ant. S. What! wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. [Strikes him. Dro. EF. What mean you, sir? for Heaven’s sake, hold your hands! Nay, an you will not, sir, ’ll take my heels. [ Hait. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [Acr IT. Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, The villain is o’er-raught” of all my money. They say this town is full of cozenage ; As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, Soul-killing witches that deform the body, Disguiséd cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many such-like liberties of sin :*6 If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. ll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave: I greatly fear my money is not safe. [ Ewit. A CT SCENE I.—A Public Place, before the house of AntipHouvs of Ephesus. Enter ApRiana and Luctana. Adr. Neither my husband nor the slave return’d, That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock. Inc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine, and never fret: (25) O’er-raught. Over-reached, cheated. (26) Liberties of sin. It has been proposed to change “liberties” for ‘libertines ;’ but “liberties” here mean ‘free practices,’ ‘lati- tudinarian dealings.’ Aigeon. A joyful mother of two goodly sons. =a a ee = en fe Act I, Scene I. IR IK. A man is master of his liberty: Time is their master; and when they see time, They’ll go or come: if so, be patient, sister. Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more ? Luc. Because their business still lies out 0’ door. Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill. Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will. Adr. Lue. There’s none but asses will be bridled so. Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe.' (1) Lash’d with woe. The word “lash’d’’ here is probably used as having double reference to being “lashed” by a whip, in allusion to “bridled,’’ and to being “lashed” or fastened with cords, in allusion to “ bound.” where we host. . you at your word, Go bear it to the Centaur, Many a man would take , having so good a mean. Antipholus of Syracuse. t thee away. Dromio of Syracuse. And go indeed Ge 24 Scenes [.] There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: The beasts, the fishes, and the wingéd fowls, Are their males’ subjects and at their controls: Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world and wild wat’ry seas, Endu’d with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords. Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. Inc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. Ine. Lire I learn love, I’ll practise to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other- where ?? Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. Adr. Patience unmov’d, no marvel though she pause ;? They can be meek that have no other cause.‘ A wretched soul, bruis’d with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry ; But were we burden’d with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain : So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless® patience would’st relieve me ; But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-bege’d patience in thee will be left.6 Ine. Well, I will marry one day, but to try.— Here comes your man; now is your husband nigh, Enter Dromio of Ephesus. Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand ? Dro. H. Nay, he’s at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness. Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind ? Dro. H. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand’ it. Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning ? Dro. H. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully,® that I could scarce understand them. Adr. But say, I pr’ythee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. Dro. H. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn- mad. Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain ! Dro. EH. I mean, sure he’s stark mad. When I desir’d him to come home to dinner, (2) Start some otherwhere? ‘Start in pursuit of some other woman?’ “Otherwhere” here gives the effect of ‘other woman,’ as in the next line “ home”’ gives the effect of ‘his own wife.’ _ (3) Pause. Remain still, be quiet. (4) No other cause. No cause to be otherwise. (5) Helpless. Used for ‘ unhelpful.’ (6) This fool-begg’d hres in thee will be left. ‘This patience so foolishly begged that I will practise, will by you be left unpractised.’ (7) Understand. A quibble on ‘stand under’ and ‘ comprehend.’ (8) Doubtfully. Dromio uses this word punningly in reference to two that it sounds something like— doughtily’ and “redoubtably ;’ meaning valorously, formidably. (9) Bear. In some editions given in the [old form of] past tense, ‘ bare.’ (10) So rownd with you as you with me. “ Round”’ is used here by THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 187 He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold: “Tis 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!” Luc. Quoth who ? Dro. FE. Quoth my master : ““T know,” quoth he, “no house, no wife, no mistress.” So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bear? home upon my shoulders ; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home! For Heaven’s sake, send some other messenger. Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. Dro. H. And he will bless that cross with other beating : Between you, I shall have a holy head. Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home. Dro. H. Am I so round with you as you with me,! That like a football you do spurn me thus ? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must case me in leather." [ Hatt. Luc. Fie, how impatience lowreth in your face ! Adr. His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age th’ alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: Do their gay vestments his affections bait ? That’s not my fault,—he’s master of my state: ~ What ruins are in me that can be found By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground Of my defeatures.’ My decayéd fair? A sunny look of his would soon repair : But, too unruly deer," he breaks the pale, And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale." Iuc. Self-harming jealousy,—fie ! beat it hence. Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere ;! Dromiog in its sense of spherical (like a “ football’’), and in that of outspoken, free, roughly remonstrative. (11) Case me in leather. Alluding to footballs made of bladder, and covered with leather. (12) Defeatures. Impaired looks, disfigurements. : (138) Fair. Often used substantively by Shakespeare for loveli- ness, beauty. ' (14) Deer. Used punningly for ‘ dear,’ to introduce the figurative context. : (15) Stale. Here used in a double sense: as carrying out the metaphor of the pursuit of game by a “stale’’ or pretence; and as referring to that which has become “‘stale,’’ flavourless, unpalat- able, rejected. Adriana means that she, as his wife, forms a safe shelter whence he may aim at other “deer;’’ and that she herself has become unfresh, unattractive to him. (16) Otherwhere. See Note 2, Act ii. 188 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. Or else, what lets it but he would be here? a, Sister, you know he promis’d me a chain; Would that alone, alone he would detain,"* So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see the jewel best enamelléd” Will lose his beauty; and though gold bides still, That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold: and so, no man that hath a name, But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, ’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die. Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy ! | Kxeunt. SCENE IL.—The same Public Place. Enter AnripHouvs of Syracuse. Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave Is wander’d forth, in care to seek me out. By computation, and mine host’s report, I could not speak with Dromio since at first T sent him from the mart.—See, here he comes. Enter Dromto of Syracuse. How now, sir! is your merry humour alter’d ? As you love strokes, so jest with me again. You know no Centaur? you receiv’d no gold ? Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad, That thus so madly thou didst answer me? Dro. S.. What answer, sir? when spake I such a word ? Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour since. Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold’s receipt, And told’st me of a mistress and a dinner ; For which, I hope, thou felt’st I was displeas’d. Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein: What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me. Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth ? Think’st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that. [Beating him. Dro. 8S. Hold, sir, for Heaven’s sake! now your jest is earnest : Upon what bargain do you give it me? Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love, (17) What lets it but he would be here? ‘What prevents his being here?’ To “let” was formerly used for to prevent, to hinder. (18) Would that alone, alone he would detain. Misprinted in the first Folio, ‘Would that alone, a loue he would detaine;’ but Shakespeare has elsewhere the repetition of “ alone :’’—‘‘ Yet I alone, alone do me oppose,” &c., “John,” iii. 1; and, “ But I alone, alone must sit and pine,” “ Lucrece,”’ 114. (19) I see the jewel best enamelléd, &c. This passage, down to the word “shame,” is so incorrectly printed in the Folio, that it has been altered as it stands in the text, and is thus given by most editors. (20) And make a common of my serious hours. A “common” being [Acr IT. And make a common of my serious hours.”° When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies when he hides his beams. If you will jest with me, know my aspéct, And fashion your demeanour to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce. Dro. S. Sconce call you it? so you would leave battering, I had rather have it a head: an you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and ensconce it too ;2! or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I beaten ? Ant. 8S. Dost thou not know? } Dro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. Ant. S. Shall I tell you why? Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for they say every why hath a wherefore. Ant. 8S. Why, first,—for flouting me ; and then, wherefore,— For urging it the second time to me. Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season, When in the why and the wherefore is neither rhyme nor reason ? Well, sir, I thank you. Ant. S. Thank me, sir! for what? Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing. Ant. S. Vl make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinner- time ? Dro. S. No, sir: I think the meat wants that I have. Ant. S. In good time, sir; what’s that ? Dro. 8S. Basting. Ant. S. Well, sir, then ’twill be dry. Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of it. Ant. S. Your reason ? Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.” Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time: there’s a time for all things. Dro. 8S. Idurst have denied that before you were so choleric. Ant. S. By what rule, sir ? Dro. 8. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of father Time himself. Ant. S. Let’s hear it. Dro. S. There’s no time for a man to recover his hair that grows bald by nature. Ant. 8. May he not do it by fine and recovery ?” Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man. Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement ? Dro. 8S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows the name for a piece of waste land open to any one’s use, Antipholus here uses the word to rebuke Dromio’s throwing the rubbish of his unseasonable jests on ground that ought to be held private, and sacred from intrusion. (21) A sconce for my head, and ensconce it too. Dromio plays on the word “ sconce’’ in its meaning of ‘head,’ and in its meaning of ‘a protective fortification;’ also he uses the word “ ensconce’’ in its sense of ‘ hide,’ and ‘ cover as with a fort.’ 22) Lest it make you choleric, 4c. It was a tenet of the time that “dry,’? or over-roasted meat, produced irritability and anger. (23) By fine and recovery. See Note 19, Act iv., “ Merry Wives.” hee a Scene IT.} on beasts : and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit. Ant. S. Why, but there’s many a man hath more hair than wit. Dro. 8S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his hair. Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers, without wit. } SS WSS THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 189 Ant. S. You would all this time have proved there is no time for all things. Dro. 8. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to recover hair lost by nature. Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, why there is no time to recover. Dro. S. ThusImendit: Time himself is bald, and therefore, to the world’s end, will have bald followers. Adriana. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. Dromio of Ephesus. Go back again, and be new beaten home! For Heaven’s sake, send some other messenger. Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity. Ant. S. For what reason ? Dro. S. For two; and sound ones too. Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. Dro. S. Sure ones, then. Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing.™ Dro. 8. Certain ones, then. Ant. S. Name them. Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends in trimming ;* the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge. (24) Falsing. To “false’’ is a verb used by Shakespeare; Italian, falsare, to falsify, or to deceive. Here, “falsing’’ means playing false; in reference to the hair playing its owner false by falling off. (25) Trimming. This is given in the Folio ‘trying;’ which was changed by Pope to ‘tyring,’ and by others to “trimming.’’ The latter seems the more probable correction; the word being often Act II. Scene I. Ant. S. I knew ’twould be a bald conclusion. But, soft! who wafts us*® yonder ? Enter Apriana and Luctana. Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown: Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspécts ; JT am not Adriana nor thy wife. The time was once when thou unurg’d wouldst vow That never words were music to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-savour’d in thy taste, used by Shakespeare for cutting hair. If the Folio word ‘trying’ be right, we think that ‘to save them’ must have been omitted by the printer ; in which case the passage would have originally stood thus: ‘To save the money that he spends in trying to save them ;’ the repetition of “save” being in Shakespeare’s way. (26) Wajts us. Waves to us, beckons us. 196 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. Unless I spake, or look’d, or touch’d, or carv’d to thee. How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it, That thou art then estrangéd from thyself? Thyself I call it, being strange to me, That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear self’s better part. Ah! do not tear away thyself from me ! For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall” A drop of water in the breaking eulf, And take unmingled thence that drop again, Without addition or diminishing, As take from me thyself, and not me too. How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious, And that this body, consecrate to thee, By wantonness should be contaminate ! Wouldst thou not spit at me.and spurn at me, And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stain’d skin off my sinful brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring, And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ? T know thou canst; and therefore see thou do it. I am possess’d with a contaminate blot ; An if we two be one, and thou play false: Keep, then, fair league and truce with thy true bed ; T live unstain’d,”* thou undishonouréd. Ant. 8. 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. Luc. 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. Ant. S.. By Dromio? Dro. S. By me ? Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return from him,— That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows, Denied my house for his, me for his wife. Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle- woman ? What is the course and drift of your compact? Dro. S. I, sir! I never saw her till this time. Ant. 8S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very words Didst thou deliver me on the mart. Dro. 8S. I never spake with her in all my life. (27) Fall. Used actively for ‘let fall.’ _ (28) Unstain’d. Printed ‘distain’d’ in the Folio; which we might take to mean ‘ dis-stain’d,’ were it not that Shakespeare, in both the instances where he uses “ distain,” employs it to express ~ stain, pollute, sully. (29) Exempt. Used for cut off from, taken away from. Latin, ex emptus. he meaning of the sentence seems to be, “ Let it be my wrong that you are severed from me, but do not increase that wrong by treating me with contempt.’ (30) If aught possess thee from me. ‘ If any seek to twine round thee instead of me.’ Adriana compares herself, as his lawful wife, to the fruitful vine; and those who would try to usurp her place, to the parasite “ivy, brier, or idle (unproductive) moss.”’ (31) Until I know this sure uncertainty. “Until I know this to be surely uncertainty.’ In the next line, for “ offer’d,’”’ the Folio mis- prints ‘ free’d.’ [Act II. Ant. S. How can she thus, then, call us by our names, Unless it be by inspiration ? Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood! Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt ;” But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: Thou art an elm, my husband,—I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate: If aught possess thee from me,” it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss ; Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. Ant. S. [Aside.] To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme: 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,” Tl entertain the offer’d fallacy. Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner. Dro. S. [Aside.] Oh, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner. This is the fairy land ;—oh, spite of spites !— We talk with goblins, owls,** and elvish sprites : If we obey them not, this will ensue,— They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. Luc. Why prat’st thou to thyself, and answer’st not ? Dromio, thou Dronio,** thou snail, thou slug, thou sot ! ; Dro. S. Iam transforméd, master, am not I? Ant. S. I think thou art in mind, and so am I. Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape. Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. Dro. 8. No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang’d to aught, *tis to an ass. Dro. S. Tis true; she rides me, and I long for orass. Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be But I should know her as well as she knows me. Adr. Come, come ; no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep, Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn.— Come, sir, to dinner.—Dromio, keep the gate.— Husband, I’ll dine above with you to-day, And shrive you® of a thousand idle pranks.— (32) Oh, for my beads! I cross me a a sinner. Dromio wishes for his rosary, to tell his beads, or say his prayers by, while he makes the sign of the cross against evil spirits. (33) Owls. From the Latin word striz, an owl, came the Italian word, strega, a witch; both owls and witches being supposed, in ancient superstition, to suck the breath and blood of children. There is allusion also in the “Merry Wives” to “elves” and “ goblins” “ pinching” mortals. é (34) Thou Dronio. The Folio prints this ‘Dromio, thou Dromio ;’” and most editors alter ‘thou Dromio’ to ‘thou drone:’ but, we think it more probable that “Dronio” was intended, as a facetious alteration of the fellow’s name, to indicate the lazy insect which pogo twits him with being like, in addition to “snail” and ee s ug.” (35) Shrive you. Bring you to make confession. Scene I.} Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter.— Come, sister.—Dromio, play the porter well. Ant. 8S. [Aside.] Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell ? Sleeping or waking ? mad or well-advis’d ? Known unto these, and to myself disguis’d ! THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 191 T’ll say as they say, and perséver so, And in this mist at all adventures go. Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate. Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [ Hxeunt. ACT SCENE I.—The Public Place before the house of Antrpnotus of Ephesus. Inter AnvrpHoius of Ephesus, Dromio of Ephesus, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR. Ant. FH. Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours: Say that I linger’d with you at your shop To see the making of her carkanet,' And that to-morrow you will bring it home. But here’s a villain that would face me down He met me on the mart, and that I beat him, And charg’d him with a thousand marks in gold, And that I did deny my wife and house.— Thou drunkard, thou, what did’st thou mean by this? Dro. EH. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know; That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show : Tf the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. Ant. H. I think thou art an ass. Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. T should kick, being kick’d; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass. Ant. HE. You are sad, Signior Balthazar: pray Heaven our cheer May answer my good-will, and your good welcome here! - Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. Ant. H. Oh, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. Bal. Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords. Ant. H. And welcome more common; for that’s nothing but words. Bal. Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. (1) Carkanet. Spelt also carcanet, from the French carcan, a chain or necklace ; sometimes of gold, sometimes ornamented with precious stones. (2) Mome. A buffoon, a blockhead; evidently originally derived from Momus, the buffoon-jester of Olympus. _ “ Malt-horse”’ seems to have been a term for a heavy, clumsy lout: as it was Tigi Ant. H. Ay, to a niggardly host and more sparing guest : But though my cates be mean, take them in good part ; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But, soft ! my door is lock’d.—Go bid them let us in. Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen’! Dro. S. [Within.| Mome,? malt-horse, capon, cox- comb, idiot, patch! Hither get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch. Dost thou cénjure for wenches, that thou call’st for such store, When one is one too many? Go get thee from the door. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter )>—My master stays in the street. Dro. 8S. [Within.] Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on’s feet. Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door ! Dro. S. [Within.] Right, sir; Pll tell you when, an you'll tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not din’d to-day. Dro. 8S. [Within.] Nor to-day here you must not; come again when you may. Ant. EH. What art thou that keep’st me out from the house I owe ?? Dro. S. [Within.] The porter for this time, sir; and my name is Dromio. Dro. EH. Oh, villain! thou hast stol’n both mine office and my name: The one ne’er got me credit, the other mickle* blame. If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, Thou wouldst have chang’d thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. Luce. [Within.] What a coil’ is there! Dromio,. who are those at the gate? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. Luce. [Within.] Faith, no; he comes too late ; And so tell your master. likely that “malt-horses”? were a breed of heavy-built animals, like our dray-horses. ‘“ Patch” is ‘fool,’ from the Italian, pazzo. (3) Owe. Used for ‘own.’ (4) Mickle. Much; great. (5) Coil. Noise; uproar. 192 THE COMEDY Dro. E. O Lord, T must laugh !— Have at you with a proverb;—Shall I set in my staff? Luce. [Within.] Have at youwith another; that’s, —When? can you tell?® Dro. S. [Within.] If thy name be call’d Luce,— Luce, thou hast answer’d him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I hope ? Luce. [Within.] I thought to have ask’d you. Dro. 8S. [Within.] And you said no. Dro. E. So, come, help !—well struck ! there was blow for blow. Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. Luce. [Within.] Can you tell for whose sake ? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Iuce. [Within.] Let him knock till it ache. Ant. EB. Yow ll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down. Luce. [Within.] What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town ? Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise ? : Dro. 8. [Within.] By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. Ant. EB. Are you there, wife? you might have come before. Adr. ([Within.] Your wife, sir knave! go get you from the door. Dro. BE. If you went in pain, master; this knave would go sore. Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part’ with neither. Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither. Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your gar- ments were thin. Your cake here is warm within ;* you stand here in the cold: Tt would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.? Ant. E. Go fetch me something: I'll break ope the gate. Dro. 8S. [Within.] Break any breaking here, and T’ll break your knave’s pate. Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir; and words are but wind. Dro. S. [Within.] It seems thou want’st break- ing: out upon thee, hind! (6) When? can you tell? A proverbial inquiry in Shakespeare’s time, indicating a jeer at the improbability that the person ad- dressed will get what he asks. (7) Part. Here used for depart, go away. (8) Your cake here is warm within. In this phrase there seems to be double allusion; to the food within doors ready for the meal, and to an old proverb, “ Your cake is dough,” signifying ‘Your ex- pectation is balked.’ (9) Bought and sold. An old proverbial expression, meaning to he outdone, tricked, duped. (10) We'll pluck a crow together. A cant phrase for having a squabbling-bout, a set-to, a quarrel. (11) Once this. Seems to have been a colloquial expression equi- ee to the more modern idiom, ‘It’s just this;’ or ‘Observe 8 OF ERRORS. [Acr TIL. Dro. E. Here’s too much “ out upon thee!” I pray thee, let me in. Dro. 8S. [Within.] Ay, when fowls haveno feathers, and fish have no fin. Ant. E. Well, V’ll break in:—go borrow me a crow. Dro. E. A crow without feather,—master, mean you so? i For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a feather : If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow to- gether."° Ant. E. Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow. Bal. Have patience, sir; oh, let it not be so! Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect The unviolated honour of your wife. Once this,\—your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you.” Be rul’d by me: depart in patience, And let us to the Tiger all to dinner ; And about evening come yourself alone To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in, Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it, And that supposéd by!’ the common rout Against your yet ungalléd estimation, That may with foul intrusion enter in, And dwell upon your grave when you are dead ; For slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession. Ant. E. You have prevail’d: I will depart in guiet, And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry."4 T know a wench of excellent discourse, Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle: There will we dine. This woman that I mean, My wife—but, I protest, without desert— Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal: To her will we to dinner.—Get you home, And fetch the chain; by this I know ’tis made: Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine ;° For there’s the house: that chain will I bestow— Be it for nothing but to spite my wife— Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste. Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, T'll knock elsewhere, to see if theyll disdain me. Ang. Vl meet you at that place some hour hence. (12) The doors are made against you. ‘The doors are made fast against you.’ To‘make the door’ is still used in some parts of England for ‘ bar,’ or ‘ fasten the door.’ (13) And that supposed by. The “will be” of the previous line must be understood as repeated between “ that” and “supposed.” _ (4) In despite of mirth, mean to be merry. ‘In spite of my dis- inclination for mirth, I mean to make merry.’ (15) Porcupine. Spelt in the Folio ‘ Porpentine,’ which was the old spelling of the word. It is noticeable that in this play Shake- speare has preserved the ancient custom of giving distinctive names to houses, especially houses of entertainment, and houses of com- merce. The newly-arrived Antipholus lodges at “the Centaur ;”’ the resident Antipholus lives at “the Phonix;’’ Balthazar pro- poses to dine at “the Tiger ;”’ and his friend appoints to meet hi at “the Porcupine.” avec CIO TALATON z i i , it ne A = A An SS Wo \ SUR NAN any A Hu ni Ae nt Hen AR NET nh | Ny 1, i Ni sl i \ NaN i) i th iN iN ——_ Adriana. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: Thou art an elm, my husband,—I a vine. Act IT. Scene II. Scene IT.] Ant. FH. Do so, This jest shall cost me some expense. [| Kxewnt. SCENE II.—The Public Place before the house of AntipHouus of Ephesus. Enter Livctana and Antrenoxus of Syracuse. Ine. And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband’s office? shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot ?! Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous ? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then, for her wealth’s sake use her with more kindness : Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; Muffle your false love with some show of blind- ness :1? Let not my sister read it in your eye ; Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator ; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ;'§ Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger ; Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ; Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ; Be secret-false ; what need she be acquainted ? What simple thief brags of his own attaint ? “Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed, And let her read it in thy looks at board: Shame hath a bastard fame, well managéd ; Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas! poor women! make us but believe, Being compact of credit,!® that you love us; Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve ; We in your motion turn, and you may move us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again; Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife: ‘Tis holy sport, to be a little vain,”° When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. Ant. S. Sweet mistress,—what your name is else, I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,?!— Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not Than our earth’s wonder; more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,” Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words’ deceit. Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you To make it wander in an unknown field ? Are you a god? would you create me new ? Transform me, then, and to your power I'll yield. (16) Thy love-springs rot? Shakespeare uses the word “ springs”’ (as he has done more than once in his poems) for the young shoots, or tender buds of trees; and, figuratively, for the first growths of early love. In the next line there is a metaphor—of “love” as a “building”—which the dramatist has also introduced, “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” y. 4, and “ Troilus and Cressida,’’ iv. 2. (17) Blindness. Used here for ‘ concealment.’ (18) Become disloyalty. ‘Render disloyalty becoming, by some show of loyalty.’ (19) Compact of credit. ‘Compounded, or made up, of credulity.’ (20) Vain. Used here for untrue, hyperbolical, adulatory. (21) Hit of mine. “Of” was often formerly used where now we use ‘on.’ (22) Conceit. Conception, comprehension. (23) Decline. Incline, bend towards. (24) Bed. Misprinted in the first Folio “bud,’ and altered by THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 195 But if that Iam I, then well I know Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage do I owe: Far more, far more to you do I decline.™ Oh, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, To drown me in thy sister flood of tears : Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote: Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed*! [ll take thee, and there lie ; And, in that glorious supposition, think He gains by death that hath such means to die: Let Love,” being light, be drownéd if she sink ! Ine. What! are you mad, that you do reason so? Ant. S. Not mad, but mated ;* how, I do not know. Ime, It is a fault that springeth from your eye. Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight. Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. Tuc. Why call you me love? call my sister so. Ant. S. Thy sister’s sister. Lue. That’s my sister. Ant. S. No; It is thyself, mine own self’s better part, Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim, My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim.?? Ic. All this my sister is, or else should be. Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life : Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand. Lue. Oh, soft, sir! hold you still: [ll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [ Exit. Inter, running, Dromio of Syracuse. Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio! where runn’st thou so fast ? Dro. 8S. Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am I your man? am I myself? Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself. Dro. 8S. I am an ass, I am a woman’s man, and besides myself. Ant. S. What woman’s man? and how besides thyself? Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. some editors to ‘bride.’ “ Bed” is the word in the second Folio, and seems best to accord with the context. This speech of Antipholus of Syracuse, addressing Luciana as a death-luring “mermaid” and “siren,’’ is in accordance with his speech at the close of the first Act, where he speaks of the “soul-killing witches” he may expect to meet with in Ephesus. (25) Love. Here used for the Queen of Love, Venus, as is mani- fested by the word “she’’ in this line, and confirmed by various passages elsewhere. (26) Mated. Confused, dazzled, bewildered. There is also a play on the word in allusion to his being “ mated,” or given as a mate to Adriana, as is shown by the words, “how, I do not know.’’ (27) My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim. ‘My sole happiness on earth, and that which I claim as heaven’s best gift.’ (28) I aim thee. “ Aim”’ was sometimes used for ‘aim at;’ and is misprinted ‘am’ in the Folio. 196 Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee ? Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse; and she would have me as a beast; not that, I being a beast, she would have me ; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. Ant. S. What is she? Dro. S. A very reverend body; ay, such a one THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [Acr III. Dro. S. Swart,®° like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept. Ant. S. That’s a fault that water will mend. Dro. 8. No, sir, ’tis in grain; Noah’s flood could not do it. Ant. S. What’s her name ? Dro. S. Nell, sir; but her name and three Antipholus of Syracuse. Luciana. I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. as a man may not speak of, without he say sir- reverence.2 I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. Ant. S. How dost thou mean,—a fat marriage ? Dro. S. Marry, sir, she’s the kitchen-wench, and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, she’ll burn a week longer than the whole world. Ant. S. What complexion is she of? (29) Sir-reverence. A corruption of ‘save reverence,’ which it was customary to say before mentioning anything unseemly or uncleanly ; in illustration of this, Gifford quotes from an old tract on the origin of tobacco:— The time hath been, when, if we did speak of this loathsome stuff, tobacco, we used to put a “sure reverence’ before; but we forget our good manners.”’ (30) Swart. Black, dark, dusky. (31) Her name and three quarters. “And,’’ here, is misprinted 718” Give me thy hand Oh, soft, sir! hold you still: [ Lvit. Act IIT. Scene II. quarters,°!\—that is, an ell and three quarters,—will not measure her from hip to hip. Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth ? | Dro. S. No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her. Ant.S. Inwhat part of her body stands Scotland? Dro. S. 1 found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm of the hand. Ant. S. Where France? Dro. S. In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war against her heir.” in the Folio. There is, of course, a pun between her name, “Nell,” and “an ell.’ A Flemish ell is three quarters of a yard; therefore, a yard and a half will give us the exact height and width of this proad-as-she’s-long “ kitchen-wench.”’ e (32) Making war against her heir. A pun between “ heir” and ‘hair:’ Mistress Nell’s brazen forehead seeming to push back her rough and rebellious hair, as France resisted the claim of the Protestant heir to their throne, Henry IV. of Navarre. Queen ScENE 11] Ant. S. Where England ? Dro. S. I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them; but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. Ant. S. Where Spain ? Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her breath. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 197 told me what privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch: And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith,*® ‘and my heart of steel, She had transform’d me to a curtail- dog, and made me turn 7 the wheel. ! i! Adriana. Ant. S. Where America, the Indies ? Dro. S.. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embel- lished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole armadas of carracks to be ballast at her nose.* Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ? Dro. 8. Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To con- clude, this drudge, or diviner,*! laid claim to me; called me Dromio; swore I was assured to her ;* Elizabeth sent over the Earl of Essex with four thousand men to the assistance of that prince in 1591; and, till his accession in 1594, she continued to despatch troops to him. It is, ther efore, supposed that a complimentary allusion to the poet’s sovereign is couched beneath this scoff at France; and Malone thence deduces the ** Comedy of Errors’’ to have been written before the latter date. We, who have a theory that this play was a very early-written pro- duction of Shakespeare’s, think it probable that this allusion may have been inserted afterwards, when the piece came to be performed on the stage, possibly about the date when such an allusion would be peculiarly popular. (33) Armadas of carracks to be ballast at her nose. “ Armadas” are Ah! Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Act IV. Scene II. Ant. 8. Go hie thee presently, road :37— An if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town to-night :— If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk till thou return to me. If every one knows us, and we know none, Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. Dro. S. As from a bear aman would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife. [ Hat. post to the fleets; “carracks’”’ are large ships of burden, Spanish caraca ; *ballast’’ is an old form of ‘ ballassed ;’ laden, freighted. " (34) Diviner. One professing divination ; a sorceress. Dromio, like his master, thinks he has got among witches; women capable of working spells, and transforming him to a turnspit- dog. #35 35) Assured to her. Affianced to her. (36) If my breast had not been made of faith. In allusion to the popular belief that strong “ faith” had power against witcheraft. Dromio, in a former scene, longed for his ‘‘ beads”? as a protection from sorcery. (37) The road. The roadstead; the harbour. Sn 198 Ant. 8S. There’s none but witches do inhabit here ; And therefore ’tis high time that I were hence. She that doth call me husband, even my soul Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, Possess’d with such a gentle sovereign grace, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Hath almost made me traitor to myself: But lest myself be guilty to* self-wrong, I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid’s song. Enter Anaeto with the chain. Ang. Master Antipholus,— Ant. 8. Ay, that’s my name. Ang. I know it well, sir. Lo, here is the chain. I thought to have ta’en you at the Porcupine : The chain unfinished made me stay thus long. Ant. S. What is your will that I shall do with this P THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [Acre Lys ‘ Ang. What please yourself, sir: I have made it for you. Ant. S. Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not. Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; And soon at supper-time*® Pl visit you, And then receive my money for the chain. Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now, For fear you ne’er see chain nor money more. Ang. You are a merry man, sir: fare you well. [ Hatt. Ant. 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. Vl to the mart, and there for Dromio stay : SCENE I.—The same. A Public Place. Enter Second Merchant, AncELo, and an Officer. Sec. Mer. You know since Pentecost! the sum If any ship put out, then straight away. [ Eat. A.Gal “LV& Dro. E. J buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope!‘ [ Katt. Ant. FE. A man is well holp up that trusts to you: is due, And since I have not much impértun’d you ; Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia, and want gilders for my voyage : Therefore make present satisfaction, Or Ill attach? you by this officer. Ang. Even just the sum that I do owe to you Is growing’ to me by Antipholus ; And in the instant that I met with you He had of me a chain: at five o’clock I shall receive the money for the same. Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, I will discharge my bond, and thank you too. Off. That labour may you save: see where he comes. Enter Anvrenowus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus. Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go thou And buy a rope’s end: that will I bestow Among my wife and her confederates, For locking me out of my doors by day.— But, soft! I see the goldsmith.—Get thee gone ; Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. (38) Guilty to. A form of construction in use formerly, where we should now say ‘guilty of.’ (39) Soon at supper-time. See Note 18; Act i. f emi Snel? Used here for ‘wanting in good sense,’ ‘ unwise,’ oolish.’ ~ (1) Pentecost. Whitsuntide. (2) Attach. Arrest, seize by power or authority. (3) Growing. Used for ‘aceruing,’ ‘coming as a right.’ (4) I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope! In this T promiséd your presence and the chain ; But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. Belike, you thought our love would last too long, If it were chain’d together, and therefore came not. Ang. Saving your merry humour, here’s the note How much your chain weighs to the utmost carrat,° The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion, Which doth amount to three odd ducats more Than I stand debted to this gentleman : I pray you, see him presently discharg’d, For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. Ant. E. I am not furnish’d with the present money ; Besides, I have some business in the town. Good signior, take the stranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof : Perchance I will be there as soon as you.® Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her your- self ? Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough. consociation of “a thousand pound a year’’ and “a rope,’ there may have been some point of allusion obvious at the time when the play was first acted, though now lost to perception; or perhaps Dromio means to hint that in purchasing a rope’s end, he may be providing for himself a heavy revenue of future thwacks. (5) Carrat. Spelt also carat, caract, and charact. A weight of four grains, by which gold and gems are weighed. It has been derived from carat, a bean, used by Orientals for weighing gold ; or from the Arabian, kirat, a weight. (6) Perchance I will be there as soon as you. “* Will”? for ‘shall’ is still used in North Britain. Scene IT.] Ang. Well, sir, I will. about you ? ; Ant. H. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have ; Or else you may return without your money. Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain : Both wind and tide stay for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long. Ant. EF. Good lord, you use this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porcupine. I should have chid you for not bringing it, But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. Sec. Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, despatch. Ang. You hear how he impértunes me ;—the chain !— Ant. H. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money. Ang. Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. Hither send the chain, or send by me some token. Ant. H. Fie! now you run this humour out of breath. Come, where’s the chain ? Sec. Mer. ance, Good sir, say whe’r you’ll answer me or no: If not, Pll leave him to the officer. Have you the chain I pray you, let me see it. My business cannot brook this dalli- Ant. H. I answer you! what should I answer you ? Ang. The money that you owe me for the chain. Ant. H. I owe you none till I receive the chain. Ang. You know gave it you half an hour since. Ant. H, You gave me none: you wrong me much to say so. Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: Consider how it stands upon my credit.’ Sec. Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. Off. Ido ;— And charge you in the duke’s name to obey me. Ang. This touches me in reputation.— Hither consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer. Ant. H. Consent to pay thee that I never had! Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar’st. Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer,— IT would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorn me so apparently.’ Of. Ido arrest you, sir: you hear the suit. Ant. EH. I do obey thee till I give thee bail.— But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer. Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. (7) Consider how it stands upon my credit. affects my credit. To ‘ be of importance to. (8) Apparently. Openly, evidently. (9) Peevish sheep, what ship, 4c. “ Peevish”’ is wayward and silly. There is the same play on the word “ sheep”’ and “ship’’ in “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” i. 1. (10) To hire eaae To hire conveyance, or carriage. “Hire” ~is here used as a dissyllable ; and is spelt ‘hier’ in the Folio. (11) Dowsabel. Inasmuch as Dromio has before said that the kitchen-wench’s name is “ Nell,” we must imagine that he now calls her “‘ Dowsabel’’ by way of a fleer at the assault she made } : “Consider how it stand upon”’ is to concern, to interest, to THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 199 Enter Dromto of Syracuse. Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, I have convey’d aboard ; and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitee. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land: they stay for nought at all But for their owner, master, and yourself. Ant. H. How now! a madman ! Why, thou peevish sheep, What ship® of Epidamnum stays for me ? Dro. S.A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.' Ant. H. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for ¢. rope, And told thee to what purpose and what end. Dro. S. You sent me for a rope’s end as goon: You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. Ant. H. Iwill debate this matter at more leisure, And teach your ears to list me with more heed. To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight : Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk That’s cover’d o’er with Turkish tapestry There is a purse of ducats; let her send it: Tell her I am arrested in the street, And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave, be gone.— On, officer, to prison till it come. [Hxeunt Sec. Merchant, Anarwo, Officer, and Ant. HK. Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where we din’d, Where Dowsabel! did claim me for her husband: She is too big, I hope, for me to compass.!” Thither I must, although against my will, For servants must their masters’ minds fulfil. [Hvit, SCENE II.—A room in the house of Antirnowus of Hphesus. Enter Apriana and Luctana. Adr. Ah! Luciana, did he tempt thee go? Mightst thou perceive austerely™ in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? Look’d he or red or pale, or sad or merrily ? What observation mad’st thou, in this case, Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face 2! Lue. First he denied you had in him no right. Adr. He meant, he did me none; the more my spite. Inc. ‘Then swore he, that. he was a stranger here. Adr, And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. Lue. Then pleaded I for you. upon him ; to ‘dowse,’ in old English parlance, signifying to give a blow on the face, to strike. (12) Compass. Used in two of its senses; to clasp round or enclose with the arms, and to obtain or gain possession of. (18) Austerely. Strictly, rigidly ; it applies to the strict obser- vation, the rigid scrutiny made. (14) His heart’s meteors tilting in his face? An allusion to the meteoric appearances in the sky which seem to be contending against each other; here figuratively applied to the varying flashes of colour depicted in the countenance of a man swayed by contend- ing emotions. (15) He denied you had in him no right. This form of double re 200 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. Adr. And what said he ? Luc. That love I begg’d for you, he begg’d of me. Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? Lue. With words that in an honest suit might move. First he did praise my beauty; then my speech. Adr. Did’st speak him fair? Ince. Have patience, I beseech. Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still; My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.’ He is deforméd, crooked, old, and sere, !7— Ill fae’d, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere ; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind ; Stigmatical in making,'* worse in mind, Lue. Who would be jealous, then, of such a one ? No evil lost is wail’d when it is gone. Adr. Ah! but I think him better than I say, And yet would herein others’ eyes were worse. Far from her nest the lapwing cries away :'° My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse. Enter Dromio of Syracuse. Dro. S. Here, go; the desk, the purse! sweet, now, make haste. Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath? Dro. 8. By running fast. Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio ? is he well? Dro. S. No, he’s in Tartar limbo, and hath him One whose hard heart is button’d up with steel ; A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough Gs A wolf, nay, worse,—a fellow all in buff ;*4 A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper—one that counter- mands The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ; A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well.” Adr. Why, man, what is the matter ? Dro. S. I do not know the matter: he is ’rested on the case. Adr. What! is he arrested? tell me at whose suit. Dro. S. well ; But he’s in a suit of buff which ’rested him, that can I tell. I know not at whose suit he is arrested Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money , in his desk ? Adr. Go fetch it, sister.—[Hait Luctana.] This I wonder at: negative was not only used in Shakespeare’s time for asseveration, but seemed to be employed for giving it added force. (16) My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. “His” here used for ‘its ;’ and refers to “tongue.” In the next line “ he,”’ of course, refers to the speaker’s husband. (17) Sere. Dry, withered. _ (8) Stigmatical in making. Marked with the stigma of deformity in his person. (19) Far from her nest the lapwing cries away. See Note 44, Acti., “Measure for Measure.” p: (20) A fairy, pitiless and rough. It has been proposed to change fairy’ here to ‘fury’ But the “fairy”? here alluded to, we may suppose to be of that kind called “urchins.” See Note 52, Act. i, ““Tempest;” and Note 24, Act iv., “Merry Wives of Windsor.”’ (21) A fellow all in buff. Sheriffs’ officers formerly wore a suit of buff-leather ; which afforded numerous jokes and plays on the word to dramatists of that period. [Act TVs That he, unknown to me, should be in debt.— Tell me, was he arrested on a band ?” Dro. S. Not ona band, but on a stronger thing,— A chain, a chain: do you not hear it ring? Adr. What, the chain ? Dro. S. No, no, the bell: *tis time that I were gone : It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one. Adr. The hours come back! that did I never hear. Dro. 8S. Oh, yes; if any hour meet a sergeant,” _’a turns back for very fear. Adr. As if Time-were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason ! Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he’s worth, to season. Nay, he’s a thief, too: have you not heard men say, That Time comes stealing on by night and day ? If Time be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? Re-enter Luctana. Adr. Go, Dromio : there’s the money, bear it straight: And bring thy master home immediately.— Come, sister: I am press’d down with conceit,”— Conceit, my comfort and my injury. [| Exewnt. SCENE ITI.—A Public Place. Enter AntrpHoius of Syracuse. Ant. S. 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 body. Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, And Lapland sorcerers” inhabit here. Enter Dromio of Syracuse. Dro. S. Master, lere’s the gold you sent me for.—What! have you got the picture of old Adam new-apparelled ?”” (22) A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well. To “wan counter” is to run in a contrary direction from the game, by following on a wrong scent; to “draw dry-foot”’ is to track by the print left by the foot of the game; and the reason that Dromio says the sheriff’s officer does both these incongruous things is, because by playing on the words, the speaker hints at the *‘ Counter prison,’ and tracking out debtors who are “ dry-foot,” a cant term for those whose means are dried up. (23) Arrested on a band? Adriana uses “and” in its sense of a legal bond; Dromio replies by quibbling on the word in its sense of a covering for the throat, a neckcloth. (24) A sergeant. An arresting officer. (25) Conceit. Imaginative conception; fancies, surmises. (26) Lapland sorcerers. Lapland seems always to have been noted for the practice of magic. Milton also alludes (“ Paradise Lost,” book ii., line 665) to ‘ Lapland witches.” F (27) Have you got the picture of old Adam new-apparelled ? Dromio conjectures, Scene ILI. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 201 ZO tig tijzLés With LETTE. Ly LI Ye Dromio of Ephesus. Toa rope’s end, sir; and to that end am I returned. Antipholus of Ephesus. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. Officer. Good sir, be patient. Ant. S. What gold is this? what Adam dost thou mean ? Dro. 8S. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calf’s skin that was killed for the Prodigal; he calls the sergeant “old Adam,” in allusion to his wearing “ buf;”’ a@ slang word for bare skin. By “‘new-apparelled” he means 26 Act IV. Scene IV. that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty. Ant. S. I understand thee not. Dro. 8S. No? why, ’tis a plain case: he that, went like a base-viol, in a case of leather; the man, furnished with a new suit; which shall prevent the officer from prosecuting the one against Antipholus. 202 sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob, and ’rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of durance ;* he that sets up his rest® to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike.*! Ant. S. What! thou meanest an officer ? Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band ;* he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that thinks a man always going to bed, and says, “God give you good rest!” Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ship puts forth to-night ? may we be gone ? Dro. S.. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since, that the bark Expedition put forth to-night ; and then were you hindered by the sergeant, to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you. Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I; And here we wander in illusions: Some blesséd power deliver us from hence! Enter a Courtesan. Cour. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now: Is that the chain you promis’d me to-day ? Ant. S. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not. Dro. S. Master, is this Mistress Satan ? Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner heres Dro. 8S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat ; so bespeak a long spoon.® Ant. S. Why, Dromio? Dro. S._ Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.* Ant. S. Avoid thee, fiend! what tell’st thou me of supping ? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress : I cénjure thee to leave me and be gone. Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis’d ; And [ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. Dro. S. Some devils ask but the parings of one’s nail, (28) When gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob, and ’rests them. “Fob” is printed ‘sob’ (with a longs) in the Folio; but we take it to be “fob,” that is, a check, or balk, by being rapped on the shoulder. There is a play on the word “ ’rests;’’ used in the sense of rest, as opposed to “ tired,” and arrested by a bailiff. (29) Gives them suits of durance. A ‘suit of durance’ was a cant term for imprisonment. (30) Sets up his rest. A phrase borrowed from the game of primero, in which it meant to remain satisfied with the game then held: and, from that, came to mean being resolved or determined 3 also, to have made up one’s mind, to be convinced. __ (31) More exploits with his mace than a morris-pike. “ A morris- pike” was a Moorish pike; a military weapon much used in the sixteenth century. “ Maces’’ were employed in both battles and tournaments, as well as by the Turkish horsemen; but Dromio plays on the word “mace,” as the sergeant’s staff of office; and has a pun on the previous word “ rest,’ in allusion to the way in which pikes were occasionally fixed in rest to receive a charge during an engagement. , (32) The sergeant of the band. Here there is another quibble on the word “band:” first, in its sense of company or association ; secordly, in its sense of legal bond. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [Acr IV A. rush, a hair, a drop of blood,*’ a pin, A nut, a cherry-stone ; But she, more covetous, would have a chain. Master, be wise: an if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it. Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain: I hope you do not mean to cheat me so. Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch!—Come, Dromio, let us go. Dro. S. -“ Fly pride,” says the peacock :** mis- tress, that you know. _—‘[Hxeunt Ant. 8. and Dro. 8. Cour. 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. [Ewit. SCENE IV.—A Street. Enter Antrenouvs of Ephesus and an Officer. Ant. E. Fear me not, man; I will not break away : Pll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, To warrant thee, as I am ’rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood to-day, And will not lightly trust the messenger : That I should be attach’d in Ephesus,*® I tell you, *twill sound harshly in her ears.— Here comes my man; I think he brings the money. Finter Dromro of Ephesus with a rope’s end. How now, sir! have you that I sent you for? Dro. H. Here’s that, I warrant you, will pay them all.*° (33) Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you. Dromio’s master had sent him for “ ducats:’’ but he calls them now by the name of another coin, “angels ”’ [see Note 45, Act i., “ Merry Wives of Windsor ”], because they are to be ministers of deliverance. (34) We'll mend our dinner here. We take this to meana proposal that the “dinner,” which had been marred by Angelo’s failing his appointment with Antipholus of Ephesus at the Porcupine, shall now be “mended” by a supper; as Antipholus of Syracuse soon after replies, “ What tell’st thou me of supping 2” (35) If you do, expect spoon-meat ; so bespeak, &c. In the Folio “you’’ is omitted, and ‘ or’ printed instead of “ so.’ (36) A long spoon that must eat with the devil. See Note 43, Act ii., “The Tempest.” (87) The parings of one’s nail, a rush, a hair, a drop of blood, &c. This enumeration of trifles required as tokens of affiance in compacts made with fiends, alludes to an ancient superstition. (38) “ Fly pride,” says the peacock. A proverbial phrase, by which Dromio rebukes the woman, whom he thinks a cheat, for accusing his master of cheating. See Note 2, Act iv. (39) That I should be attached in Ephesus. (40) Will pay them all. Shakespeare often uses the word “ pay,” as we now say ‘ pay them out,’ punish them. Scene IV.] Ant. E. But where’s the money ? Dro. H. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. Ant. EH. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope ? Dro. H. Yl serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. Ant. H. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home ? Dro. FE. To a rope’s end, sir; and to that end am I returned. Ant. H. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. [Beating him. Off. Good sir, be patient. Dro. H. Nay, ’tis for me to be patient; Iam in adversity. Off. Good, now, hold thy tongue. Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands. Ant. H. Thou senseless villain ! Dro. EH. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows. Ant. H. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass. Dro. ZH. YT am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long ears.\—I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with beating: I am waked with it when I sleep; raised with it when I sit; driven out of doors with it when I go from home; welcomed home with it when I return: nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat ;* and, I think, when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door. Ant. EH. Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder. Enter Apriana, Luctana, the Courtesan, and Prncu.* Dro. E. Mistress, respice finem,‘* respect your end; or rather, to prophesy like the parrot, “‘ Beware the rope’s end.” ® Ant. EH, Wilt thou still talk ? [Beating him. Cour. How say you now? is not your husband mad ? Adr. His incivility confirms no less.— Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer ; Establish him in his true sense again, And I will please you** what you will demand. a My long ears. He means, his ears made long by being often pulled. (42) As a beggar wont her brat. ‘Asa beggar is wont to bear her brat.’ “Wont” is an old word for accustomed to, used to. (43) Pinch. This character is introduced on the scene in the Folio, by the words “a Schoole-master, call’d Pinch;”’ and he is immediately afterwards addressed as ‘ Doctor Pinch,” who is, moreover, “a conjurer;’’ all of which shows how learning was deemed necessary for an exorcist, and how the vocations of pedagogue and wizard came to be associated in common esti- mation. (44) Respice fmem. A Latin phrase proverbially used in more than one book of Shakespeare’s time. (45) To prophesy like the parrot, “ Beware the rope’s end.’ It used to be a fashion with jocose keepers of parrots to teach their birds sentences which should predict hanging to those who had been previously warned by the words—‘Take heed, sir, my parrot prophesies. That these taught sentences generally included some allusion to a “rope,” we find from various passages in THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 203 Ine. Alas! how fiery and how sharp he looks ! Cour. Mark how he trembles in his ecstacy ! *’ Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse. Ant. ZH. There is my hand, and let-it feel your ear. [Striking him. Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous’d within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers, And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight ; I cénjure thee by all the saints in heaven ! Ant. LH. Peace, doting wizard, peace! Iam not mad. Adr. Oh, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul ! Ant. H. You minion, you! are these your cus- tomers ? Did this companion ‘** with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house to-day, Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut, And I denied to enter in my house ? Adr. Oh, husband, Heaven doth know you din’d at home; Where ’would you had remain’d until this time, Free from these slanders and this open shame ! Ant. E. Din’d at home!—Thou, villain, what say’st thou? Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home. Ant. EH. Were not my doors lock’d up, and I shut out ? Dro. EH. Perdy,*® your doors were lock’d, and you shut out. ; Ant. EH. And did not she herself revile me there ? Dro. E. Sans fable,®! she herself revil’d you there. Ant. HE. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me ? Dro. EB. Certes,? she did; the kitchen-vestal scorn’d you. Ant. EH. And did not I in rage depart from thence ? Dro. E. In verity you did; witness, That since have felt the vigour of his rage. my bones bear Adr. Is’t good to soothe him in these contraries ? Pinch. It is no shame: the fellow finds his vein, And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy. other authors; and very pointedly in these lines from Butler’s * Hudibras : ’’— © Could tell what subtlest parrots mean, That think and speak contrary clean ; What member ’tis of whom they talk, When they cry ‘ Rope,’ and ‘ Walk, knave, walk.’’’ (46) I will please you. I will give you as a gratuity. ec (47) Mark how he trembles in his ecstacy. See Note 41, Act ii., and Note 28, Act iii., “ The Tempest.” (48) Companion. Formerly used as a term of contempt; as we now use the word ‘ fellow.’ (49) Sooth to say.: “ Sooth”’ is an old word for ‘truth.’ (50) Perdy. A corruption of the French oath, pardiew. (51) Sans fable. The French word sans, without, was affectedly used in discourse of the time; an affectation which Shakespeare has satirised in “‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost,’ v. 2, where Rosaline says— “ Sans ‘sans,’ I pray you.” (52) Certes. An ancient form of ‘certainly.’ 204 Ant. EH. Thou hast suborn’d the goldsmith to arrest me. Adr. Alas! I sent you money to redeem you, By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. : Dro. E. Money by me! heart and good-will you might ; But surely, master, not a rag of money. Ant. H. Went’st not thou to her for a purse of ducats ? Adr. He came to me, and I deliver’d it. Luc. And I am witness with her that she did. Dro. E. Heaven and the rope-maker bear me witness That I was sent for nothing but a rope! Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is pos- sess’d ; I know it by their pale and deadly looks : They must be bound, and laid in some dark room. Ant. H. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day ?— And why dost thou deny the bag of gold? Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv’d no gold ; But I confess, sir, that we were lock’d out. Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak’st false in both. Ant. EH. Dissembling woman, thou art false in all; And art confederate with a curséd pack To make a loathsome abject scorn of me: But with these nails-Pll pluck out those false eyes, That would behold in me this shameful sport. Adr. Oh, bind him, bind him! let him not come near me. Pinch. More company!—The fiend is strong within him. Luc. Ah! me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks ! Enter three or four, who help Prxcu to bind Ant. E. and Dro. E. Ant. E. What! will you murder me?—Thou gaoler, thou, Iam thy prisoner: wilt thou suffer them To make a rescue ? Off. Masters, let him go: He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. Pinch. Go bind this man, for he is frantic too. Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish® officer ? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himself ? Off. He is my prisoner: if I let him go, The debt he owes will be requir’d of me. Adr, I will discharge thee™ ere I go from thee : Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, And, knowing how the debt grows,” I will pay it.— (53) Peevish. Used here for ‘silly,’ foolish. cc qt) Twill discharge thee. Shakespeare here, and elsewhere, uses discharge”’ elliptically for ‘ discharge the debt to.’ _ (55) Knowing how the debt grows. ‘When I know how the debt 1s accruing, and to whom it is duly owing.’ The word “growing” has been used before in the sense that “ grows”’ is here, and a few speeches farther on. See Note 8, Act iv. (56) Oh, most unhappy woman! “ Unhappy” was sometimes formerly used as the French use their word malheureua ; which not THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [Acr IV. Good master doctor, see him safe convey’d Home to my house.—Oh, most unhappy day ! Ant. H. Oh, most unhappy woman !*® Dro. H, Master, Tam here entered in bond for you. Ant. H. Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost tho mad me ? Dro. H, Will you be bound for nothing ? be mad, good master; cry, the devil! Lue. Heaven help, poor souls, how idly do they talk ! Adr. Go bear him hence.—Sister, go you with me.— | Kveunt Pincu and assistants with Ant. KE. and Dro. E. Say now whose suit is he arrested at ? Of. One Angelo, a goldsmith: do you know him ? Adr. I know the man. What is the sum he owes ? Off. 'Two hundred ducats. Adr. Say, how grows it due ? Off. Due for a chain your husband had of him. Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not. Cour. Whenas®™ your husband, all in rage, to-day Came to my house, and took away my ring,— The ring I saw upon his finger now,— Straight after did I meet him with a chain. Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it.— Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is: I long to know the truth hereof at large. inter AntreHoius of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse, with their rapiers drawn. Iuc. Heaven, for thy mercy! they are loose again. Adr. And come with naked swords. more help, To have them bound again. Off. Away! they'll kill us. [Hxeunt Apriana, Luctana, the Courtesan, and Officer. Ant. S. I see, these witches are afraid of swords. Dro. 8S. She, that would be your wife, now ran from you. Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence :** I long that we were safe and sound aboard. . Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm: you saw, they speak us fair, give us gold: methinks they are such a gentle nation, that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here still, and turn witch. Ant. S. I will not stay here to-night for all the town ; Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. Let’s call [ Exeunt. word ‘unlucky’ in this sense; with sometimes ‘mischievous’ as well as ‘ill-starred.’ Shakespeare employs the word “unhappy” here, and elsewhere, with these significations. 0 E ee Whenas. An old form of ‘when;’ as ‘whereas’ still is of where.’ (58) Fetch our stuf’ from thence. “Stuff” was an old word for baggage or luggage. It was formerly used with the same widely comprehensive meaning for goods and chattels generally, as women now-a-days use the word “things;’’ or as the Italians use their only means ‘unfortunate,’ but ‘ill-conditioned” We also havethe | word, roba. mm ee 7 a i | SS SSS Adriana. Hold! hurt him not, for Heaven’s sake! he is mad.— | Some get within him; take his sword away. Act V. Scene L. Scenr I.] THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 207 A Cree SCENE I.—Before an Abbey. Enter Second Merchant and ANGELO. Ang. Iam sorry, sir, that I have hinder’d you; But, I protest, he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. Sec. Mer. How is the man esteem’d here in the city ? Ang. Of very reverend reputation, sir, Of credit infinite, highly belov’d, Second to none that lives here in the city: His word might bear my wealth at any time. Sec. Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks. Enter Antirpyouus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse. Ang. “Tis so; and that self chain about his neck, Which he forswore most monstrously to have. Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him.— Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble ; And, not without some scandal to yourself. With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain, which now you wear so openly : Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend ; Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day : This chain you had of me; can you deny it? Ant. S. I think I had; I never did deny it. Sec. Mer. Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too. Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it or forswear it ? Sec. Mer. These ears of mine, thou know’st, did hear thee.! Fie on thee, wretch! ’tis pity that thou liv’st To walk where any honest men resort. Ant. 8S. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus: Ill prove mine honour and mine honesty Against thee presently, if thou dar’st stand. Sec. Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. [They draw. Enter Apriana, Luciana, the Courtesan, and others. Adr. Hold! hurt him not, for Heaven’s sake! he is mad.— Some get within him ;* take his sword away. Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. Dro. S. Run, master, run; for Heaven’s sake, take a house !* This is some priory: in, or we are spoil’d. [Hxeunt Ant. S. and Dro. 8. into the Abbey. (1) Did hear thee. “Hear,’’ in this line, like many other mono- syllabic words in other passages,.is to be sounded like a dissylable. (2) Get within him. Get within his guard, close with him. (3) Take a house. Take refuge in a house, take sanctuary. (4) It was the copy of our conference. “Copy” is here used in its classical sense, from the Latin, copia, abundance, store; as well as in its more usual sense of theme, subject, or set example. Some _——_ Enter the Abbess. Abb. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither ? Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. Let us come in, that we may bind him fast, And bear him home for his recovery. Ang. I knew he was not in his perfect wits. Sec. Mer. I am sorry now that I did draw on him. Abb. How long hath this possession held the man ? Adr. 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. Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray’d his affection in unlawful love >— A sin prevailing much in youthful men, Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrows is he subject to? Adr. To none of these, except it be the last; Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. Abb. You should for that have reprehended him. Adr. Why, so I did. Abb. Ay, but not rough enough. Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me. Abb. Haply, in private. Adr. And in assemblies too. Abb. Ay, but not enough. Adr. It was the copy 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 glane’d at it: Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad: The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poison 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 ? editors maintain that the word should be retained in its old form, ‘copie,’ as printed in the Folio in this passage, and as spelt by former English writers, like Lord Bacon and Bishop Cooper; but we give the more modern form, “ copy,”’ as conveying the combined sense in which it is here used. The sentence means—‘ It was the copious subject of our conference.’ (5) Melancholy, kinsman to, &c. In this sentence, “kinsman”’ not 208 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. Ine. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean’d himself rough, rude, and wildly.— Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not ? Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof.— Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house. Adr. Then let your servants bring my husband forth. Abb. 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 it. Adr. 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. Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir Till I have us’d the approvéd means I have, With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, To make of him a formal man‘ again : It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,* A charitable duty of my order: Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here : And ill it doth beseem your holiness To separate the husband and the wife. Abb. Be quiet, and depart: thou shalt not have hin. [ Hatt. Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity. Adr. Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet, And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his grace to come in person hither, And take perforce my husband from the abbess. Sec. Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five: Anon, I’m sure, the duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale, The place of death and sorry execution,? Behind the ditches of the abbey here. Ang. Upon what cause ? Sec. Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan mer- chant,— Who put unluckily into this bay agreeing in gender with the subsequent “her,’’ has a somewhat odd effect to modern grammarians; but, in Shakespeare’s time, such construction was allowable; as we find by a passage in “The Merchant of Venice,”’ iii. 2, where Portia says— : 4 “But now, I was the lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o’er myself.” (6) Attorney. Shakespeare uses this word here, and elsewhere, to express a deputed representative, a substitute, a commissioned agent or proxy. _ (7) A formal man. A man restored to the right use of his intellects. We have seen in “Measure for Measure’’ [Note 24, Act Settee Shakespeare uses “informal” for deranged or dis- ordered intellect. __ (8) Parcel of mine oath. ‘Portion of my oath.’ “ Parcel,” mean- ing a part, or portion of a whole, is from the French parcelle. (9) The place of death and sorry execution. In this passage, the Folio prints ‘depth’ instead of “death ;” and it has been contended that by ‘the place of depth’ Shakespeare meant to introduce into this Greek story the Barathrum, or deep pit into which offenders were cast. But there is something in such a periphrasis which does THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. [Acrave Against the laws and statutes of this town,— Beheaded publicly for his offence. Ang. See where they come: we will behold his death. Luc. Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey. Enter Duxn, attended ; Aicron bareheaded ; with the Headsman and other Officers. ; Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, If any friend will pay the sum for him, He shall not die, so much we tender him.!° Adr. Justice, most sacred duke,!! against the abbess ! Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady : It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband,— Whom I made lord of me and all I had, At your important letters,’’-—this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him ; That desperately he hurried through the street,— With him his bondman, all as mad as he,— Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, anything his rage did like. Once did I get him bound, and sent him home, Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went,® That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,!+ He broke from those that had the guard of him ; And with his mad attendant and himself, Kach one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Chas’d us away; till, raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursu’d them ; And here the abbess shuts the gates on us, And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help. Duke. ong since thy husband serv’d me in my wars ; And I to thee engag’d a prince’s word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could.— Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate, not sound in keeping with our poet’s style, and which implies a mode of punishment that does not accord so well as “the place of death” with the word “beheaded” a little farther on. “Sorry” was used with stronger effect formerly than now, and meant ‘sorrowful,’ ‘ dreadful,’ ‘ dismal.’ (10) So much we tender him. To “tender’’ here is used for “regard with kindness,’ ‘ feel compassion for.’ (11) Sacred duke. ‘“‘Sacred’’ is here used for ‘entitled to rever- ence,’ ‘worthy of homage:’ as we have “sacred Silvia,’ “Two Gentlemen of Verona,’’ iii. 1. _ (2) Your important letters. Shakespeare, and other writers of his time, occasionally used “important” for ‘ importunate,’ ‘urgent.’ By the word “letters” he alludes to a custom belonging to feudal times, when the ‘ wardship’ of heiresses pertained to the Crown, and Royal Letters were sent to ladies of large fortune on behalf of suitors desirous of obtaining them. (13) To take order for the wrongs I went. Shakespeare here and elsewhere uses “take order’’ for ‘take measures,’ or ‘ provide means. : _ (14) Anon, I wot not by what strong escape. “Anon” is ‘soon,’ quickly,’ ‘in a short time;’ and here means ‘shortly after.’ “J wot not’’ is ‘I know not.’ “Strong escape” here stands for ‘an escape effected by strength or force.’ Scung I.] And bid the lady abbess come to me.— I will determine this before I stir. Enter a Servant. Serv. Oh, mistress, mistress! shift and save yourself! My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row,’ and bound the doctor, ae di ee eae i IS a THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. _ 209 Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breath’d almost since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face,'* and to disfigure you. [Cry within. Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress: fly, be gone! Duke. Come, stand by me; fear nothing.— Guard with halberds ! Pa, ell Adriana. Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess! Whose beard they have singe’d off with brands of fire ;16 And ever, as it blaz’d, they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair. My master preaches patience to him, and the while His man with scissors nicks him like a fool ;!7 And sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer. Adr. Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here ; And that is false thou dost report to us. (15) Beaten the maids a-row. “ A-row’’ was formerly used in the same way that the common phrase ‘all of a row’ is now employed ; and means ‘one after another,’ ‘in succession,” It may be observed that this servant characteristically uses the wrong grammar of “are” for ‘have’ in the previous line. (16) Whose beard they have singe’d off with brands of fire. That the process of shaving was upon some peculiar occasions performed by means of “fire,” we find from a passage in Sir Thos. North’s trans- lation of “ Plutarch,” a book much used by Shakespeare. In the life of Dion, North says that the “father Dionysius was so fearful and mistrustful of everybody, that he would suffer no man with a pair of barber’s scissors to poll the hair of his head ; but caused an 27 Act V. Scene I. Adr. Ah! me, it is my husband! Witness you, That he is borne about invisible : Even now we hous’d him in the abbey here ; And now he’s there, past thought of human reason. Enter AnrrpHowus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus. Ant. H. Justice, most gracious duke! Oh, grant me justice ! Even for the service that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the wars,'? and took image-maker of earth to come unto him, and with a hot burning coal to burn his goodly bush of hair round about.” (17) Nicks him like a fool. It was the custom to shave and to “nick”? or notch the heads of professional fools: so that allu- Aue to this practice became synonymous with an accusation of olly. (18) Scorch your face. To ‘scotch’ was formerly sometimes spelt to “scorch ;” and here, probably, the double threat of “ singeing’”’ and “nicking ’”’ is implied. (19) When I bestrid thee in the wars. Shakespeare has many allu- sons to this act of military friendship, which was of generous frequency in chivalrous times. 210 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. Age. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, T see my son Antipholus, and Dromio. Ant. HE. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there ! She whom thou gav’st to me to be my wife, That hath abuséd and dishonour’d me Even in the strength and height of injury: Beyond imagination is the wrong That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me, While she with harlots” feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault.—Say, woman, didst thou so? Adr. No, my good lord: myself, he, and my sister, To-day did dine together. So befall my soul, As this is false he burdens me withal ! Luc. Ne’er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,” But she tells to your highness simple truth ! Ang. Oh, perjur’d woman !—They are both for- sworn : In this the madman justly chargeth them. Ant. H. My liege, I am adviséd what I say ;” Neither disturb’d with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash, provok’d with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock’d me out this day from dinner : That goldsmith there, were he not pack’d* with her, Could witness it, for he was with me then ; Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porcupine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, I went to seek him: in the street I met him, And in his company that gentleman. There did this perjur’d goldsmith swear me down, That I this day of him receiv’d the chain, Which, Heaven knows, I saw not: for the which He did arrest me with an officer. I did obey ; and sent my peasant home For certain ducats: he with none return’d. Then fairly I bespoke the officer To go in person with me to my house. By the way we met My wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vile confederates. Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac’d villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man. This pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer ; And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, (20) Harlots. An old term of reproach for base hireling persons, and applied to both men and women. (21) Nor sleep on night. “On’’ was often used formerly for ‘ of ;’ ead oe “on night” is equivalent to the more modern idiom, ‘of a ight. (22) IT am advised what I say. ‘I speak advisedly what I say.’ Antipholus uses the word “advised” in the sense of ‘composedly,’ considerately,’ ‘with a due amount of knowledge and reflection.’ SSS | Act V. And with no face, as ’twere, outfacing me, Cries out, I was possess’d. Then all together They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a dark and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together ; Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain’d my freedom, and immediately Ran hither to your grace ; whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities. Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him, That he din’d not at home, but was lock’d out. Duke. But had he such a chain of thee or no? _ Ang. He had, my lord; and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. Sec. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him, After you first forswore it on the mart: And thereupon I drew my sword on you; And then you fled into this abbey here, From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. Ant. E. I never came within these abbey-walls ; Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: T never saw the chain, so help me Heaven! And this is false you burden me withal. Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this! T think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup.” If here you hous’d him, here he would have been; If he were mad he would not plead so coldly :— You say he din’d at home; the goldsmith here Denies that saying.—Sirrah, what say you? Dro. E. Sir, he din’d with her there, at the Porcupine. Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch’d that ring. Ant. i Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her. Duke. Saw’st thou him enter at the abbey here ? Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. Duke. Why, this is strange.—Go call the abbess hither. [ Hait an Attendant, I think you are all mated” or stark mad. Aige. 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, Syracusan, what thou wilt. Age. Ts not your name, sir, call’d Antipholus ? And is not that your bondman Dromio ? Dro. EB. 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. Aige. Tam sure you both of you remember me. Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you; For lately we were bound, as you are now. You are not Pinch’s patient, are you, sir? (23) Pack’d. Confederated, joined in conspiracy. (24) I think you all have drunk of Circe’s cup. “Circe” was the daughter of Sol and the nymph Perseis, and was a famous enchantress, skilled in the knowledge of baleful herbs. ———_-~_e O&SFOCSO there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears ? Mess. In great measure. Teon. A kind of overflow of kindness: there are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping ! Beat. I pray you, is Signior Montanto‘ returned from the wars, or no ? Mess. I know none of that name, lady: there was none such in the army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. Oh, he is returned; and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He set up his bills® here in Messina, and challenged Cupid at the flight ;° and my uncle’s fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-boit.7—I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? Bat how many hath he killed? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing. first stage-direction may have remained in the copy from which the Folio was printed. P ye (3) Any sort. Though Shakespeare and other writers of his time employ “sort” to express ‘rank,’ ‘ distinction,’ ‘select order or station,’ yet here, on account of the sequent “none of name,” “ of any sort” seems to mean ‘of any kind or description.’ So, a little farther on, the messenger uses the same expression :—“ There was none such in the army of any sort;” meaning ‘of any condition.’ (4) Signior Montanto. Beatrice nicknames Benedick thus, to infer that he rather figures in the fencing-school than in the field of battle; “ Montanto”’ being a term borrowed from the Italian masters in the art of defence. See Note 56, Act ii., “Merry Wives.” (5) Set wp his bills. In allusion to the custom of putting up printed notices in public places as an advertisement. Wrestlers, archers, fencers, &c., thus gave notice of their proposed matches, wherein they challenged contest and invited antagonists. (6) Challenged Cupid at the flight.. A“ flight”’ wasasharp, slender arrow used for flying long distances; and Beatrice pretends that Benedick is so vain of his power in transfixing ladies’ hearts, as to believe it surpasses that of Cupid himself. (7) Bird-bolt. A short, thick, blunt arrow; the use of which was permitted to fools and jesters, and is here employed in contra- distinction to the long, sharp “ flight’’ arrow previously mentioned. 216 Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he’ll be meet with you,® I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp® to eat it: he’s a very valiant trencher-man ; he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ;—but what is he to a lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues.'® Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man: but for the stuffing,—well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her: they never meet, but there’s a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict four of his five wits'' went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference!” between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature.—Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother."? Mess. Is’t possible? Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith!* but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.18 Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer!’ now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil ? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. Oh, lord! he will hang upon him lke a (8) He'll be meet with you. ‘He'll meet you on equal terms ;’ in familiar parlance, ‘ he’ll be even with you.’ (9) Holp. Old form of ‘helped, (10) Stuffed with all honourable virtues. The word “stuffed” is here used by Shakespeare, and by other writers formerly, in a com- mendatory sense, to express ‘ supplied,’ ‘ provided,’ ‘ endowed ;’ but Beatrice’s quick wit catches at it, and converts it into a ridi- culous epithet. By “a stuffed man,’ she means a mere semblance of a man, a wadded-out figure; just as Prince Hal calls Falstaff, “My sweet creature of bombast,’ which was a species of stuffing used for lining and padding clothes. To this very “ bombast’’ Beatrice probably alludes in her punning way, when she exclaims, “ But for the stuffing,” and breaks off with this insinuation that Benedick’s valour is all boast and sham. (11) Five wits. In old writers we find that the “wits’’ are reckoned “ five,’ as corresponding in number with the ‘five senses;’ and that these latter were even sometimes called “the five wits.”’ By “wit” was frequently meant the intellectual faculty generally; and here Beatrice uses it to express ‘sense’ or ‘wisdom.’ _ (2) Bear it for a difference. signifying ‘ a distinction.’ (13) Sworn brother. In times of chivalry it was customary for knightly friends to ally themselves as ‘companions in arms,’ or “sworn brothers ;” but afterwards the term came to be used more widely, and meant associates in amity or fellowship; favourite friends. (14) His faith. Here used for trust in his friend, and for fidelity to his friend. (15) The next block. The “block” was the mould on which the soft felt hats formerly worn were shaped; and as the style fre- An heraldic term; “a difference” MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. |Actad: disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. Heaven help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. Beat. Do, good friend. Leon. You will never run mad, niece.!® Beat. No, not till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approached. Enter Don Pepro, Don Jonny, Cuaupio, Benepicx, and BALTHAZAR. D. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. D. Pedro. You embrace your charge! too will- ingly.—I think this is your daughter. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? Teon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this what you are, being a man.—Truly, the lady fathers herself.-—Be happy, lady ; for you are like an honourable father. Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick: nobody marks you.” Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living ? Beat. Isit possible disdain should die, while she hath such meet” food to feed it, as Signior Bene- dick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat.—But it is quently varied, and the form of the hat was capable of being changed by re-blocking, there is to be found in other writers besides Shakespeare, allusion to this practice of altering the fashion cf hat-shapes as a type of mutability. (16) In your books. To be in any one’s books is a familiar phrase for being in her or his favour. It originated in the custom of entering the names of retainers in the household books of those to whose service they were attached; and perhaps also in the fashion of keeping tablets or books, for lists of special acquaint- ances, selected visitors, &c.—all persons more or less favoured by the keeper of the book. (17) Squarer. As Shakespeare elsewhere uses “square” for ‘quarrel,’ ‘ contest,’ ‘ differ,’ he probably means by “squarer” a ‘quarreller,’ a ‘brawler.’ To ‘square’ is still a term among boxers for putting themselves in a position to begin fighting. (18) You will never run mad, niece. Leonato’s ironical way of calling Beatrice a mad-cap. (19) Charge. Here used to express ‘ care’ and the “ cost” before alluded to. (20) The lady fathers herself. The lady herself proclaims who is her father, resembling him so much. The phrase ‘fathers himself,’ is said to be used in Dorsetshire, to signify ‘like his father’ (21) Nobody marks ee By these three words, sly master Shake- speare lets us into the secret of Beatrice’s lurking preference for Benedick. She first attacks him (which no woman does who cares naught for a man); and, in telling him that nobody notices him, shows that she herself does. In fact, she has been observing him from the moment of his entrance, and watching for an opportunity for assailing him with raillery, besides having inquired concerning him (though in her own saucy way) before he came on the scene. (22) Meet. Fit, proper. mat i} Z é: = , ) SS = — — Sa Yi 2 —) f OP 5 Meat Beatrice. I pray you, is Signior Montanto returned from the | et WarsOP NO. wits ns.) scene Le ———— Leonato. What is he that you ask for, niece ? Pt aay a Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick.—Act I. Scene I. 28 ; x i F Pee Ft : a en) Chak fy J ; | tire a eee Pater ao. tbr ¢ ’ ‘ ‘ ‘ y= ‘ a 5 z Scenz [.| certain I am loved of all ladies,*? only you excepted : and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none. Beat. A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank Heaven and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me. Bene. Heaven keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an *twere such a face as yours were. Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.™ Beat. you may do the part of an honest man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her ? D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt Don Joan and Boracuio. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. "Tis certain so ;—the prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ;”! Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.” This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero! Re-enter BenEpIcK. Bene. Count Claudio ? Claud. Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me? Claud. Whither ? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. What fashion will you wear the garland of ? About your neck, like a usurer’s chain ?* (15) Impossible. Shakespeare sometimes uses this word fox ‘ difficult of belief,’ ‘most unlikely,’ ‘ ludicrously improbable.’ (16) The commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy. By this is meant, ‘The approval that he meets with from free-livers is not on account of his wit, but on account of the villainous calum- nies and “impossible slanders”’ he invents, which often bring him both praise and wrath, laughter and chastisement.’ (17) Boarded. Accosted; French, aborder. (18) Break a comparison or two. Give vent to a few jocose similes, or witticisms of analogy. Such, for instance, as “the infernal Até in good apparel.” Shakespeare elsewhere uses “ comparison ”’ in the sense of ‘jesting simile.’ (19) Bearing. Deportment, demeanour, carriage. (20) Near my brother in his love. Possessed of my brother’s con- fidence and esteem ; in close intimacy with him. (21) Therefore, all hearts in love, &c. The word “let” in the following line, is understood here before “all.” (22) Blood. Here used, as elsewhere, by Shakespeare, for impul- sive affection, passionate love. (23) A usurer’s chain. A chain of gold frequently formed part of the dress of wealthy citizens; who, moreover, practised eee Scene I.] or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him joy of her. Bene. Why, that’s spoken like an honest drover: so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus ? Claud. I pray you, leave me. Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man: ‘twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [ Heit. Bene. Alas! poor, hurt fowl; now will he creep into sedges.—But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! ‘The prince’s fool! —Ha! it may be I go under that title, because I am merry.—Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong ; I am not so reputed: it is the base, though bitter disposition™ of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may. Re-enter Don PEpro. D. Pedro. you see him ? Bene. 'Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame.” I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren:* I told him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good-will of this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. D. Pedro. To be whipped! What’s his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being overjoyed with finding a bird’s nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgres- sion? The transgression is in the stealer. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might Now, signior, where’s the count? did ey, so notoriously as to incur the satire of the writers of that period. (24) The base, though bitter disposition. This has been altered to “the base, the bitter disposition’? by some who find the original phrase difficult of comprehension; but we take it to signify ‘the mean though insolent disposition of Beatrice, which pretends that the world nicknames me as she does, and thus proclaims me.’ “Base” seems to stand for ‘cowardly and lying,’ “bitter’’ for ‘audaciously satirical.’ (25) Played the art of Lady Fame. or making bad news fly. (26) As melancholy as a lodge in a warren. A “lodge’’ was a small building or shed, erected in rabbit-warrens or fields that required watching during the season, and was abandoned afterwards; so that a “lodge ” early became a type of dreariness and desolation. (27) I will but teach them, &c. Here “them” gives an instance of Shakespeare’s use of a pronoun in referring to an implied par- ticular. We point out these instances as affording a guide to the comprehension of Shakespeare’s peculiar style, which is full of each ellipses; and they give great conciseness to the effect of rapid colloquy. (28) Impossible conveyance. For “impossible” see Note 15, Act ii. “Conveyance”? was a word of the time for jugglery, sleight of hand, dexterity, adroitness. (29) Terminations. “Terminations” here seems to be used for more than ‘terms ;’ it appears to us to include a hit at the sharp retorts with which Beatrice ends; the venom she puts into ‘the last word, which, woman-like, she will have. (30) Até. The goddess of discord and of all evil. “In good apparel’ here seems to be equivalent to ‘in the dress of a lady.’ By spreading an ill report, 29 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 225 have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his bird’s nest. D. Pedro. I will but teach them” to sing, and restore them to the owner. Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. D. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the gentleman that danced with her, told her she is much wronged by you. Bene. Oh, she misused me past the endurance of a block! an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her. She told me,—not thinking I had been myself,—that I was the prince’s jester; that I was duller than a great thaw; hud- dling jest upon jest, with such impossible convey- ance,** upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations,” there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed : she would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find her the infernal Até” in good apparel. I would to Heaven some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in the lower pit as in a sanctuary ;*! and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her. D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the world’s end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John’s* foot ; fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard;* do you any embassage to the Pigmies;*—rather than hold three words’ conference with this harpy.* You have no employment for me? (31) While she is here, a man, &c. It has been objected that this passage is ‘ very ambiguous.’ But we take it to mean that so long as Beatrice is in the place where the speaker is, the place of punishment is without her, and therefore comparatively quiet; so that people desire to go thither to escape from her. (32) Prester John. ‘The priest John.’ A name given to a Christian Asiatic potentate. The difficulty of gaining access to him is recorded in these lines: “While like the mighty Prester John, Whose person none dares look upon, But is preserv’d in close disguise From being cheap to vulgar eyes.’ Butler’s Hudibras. (33) The great Cham’s beard. the sovereign prince of Tartary. (34) The Pigmiies. A diminutive nation, fabled to be devoured by cranes. ‘ (35) Harpy. Thus described by Raleigh :—‘ The harpies were a kind of birds which had the faces of women, and foul, long claws— very filthy creatures; which, when the table was furnished for Phineus [King of Thrace], came flying in, and devouring or carrying away the greater part of the victuals, did so defile the rest that they could not be encured.” This description shows how classically appropriate is Shakespeare’s introduction of Ariel as a “harpy,”’ “Tempest,” Act iii., sc. 8, when causing the banquet to vanish rom before King Alonso; and it also manifests the feeling of Benedick for oes beautiful face combined with her objectionable attributes. “The great Cham’”’ is the title of 226 D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good com- pany. : Bene. Oh, lord, sir, here’s a dish I love not: I cannot endure my Lady Tongue. [ Hact. Enter Cuaupio, Beatricr, Hero, and Lronaro.*® D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave him use* for it,—a double heart for his single one: marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady; you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord. —I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. D. Pedro. you sad? Claud. Not sad, my lord. D. Pedro. How then? sick? Claud. Neither, my lord. Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil, count,—civil as an orange,** and soinething of that jealous complexion. D. Pedro. Tfaith, lady, I think your blazon* to be true; though, Pll be sworn, if he be so, his con- ceit* is false.—Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won: I have broke with her father, and, his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy! Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it! Beat. Speak, count, ’tis your cue." Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much.— Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange. Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yes, my lord; I thank it, poor fool,? it keeps on the windy side* of care.-—My cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart. ‘Claud. And so she doth, cousin. Why, how now, count! wherefore are (36) Enter Claudio, Beatrice, &c. The Folio, and the majority of editions, mark the entrance of these characters before Benedick’s speech, beginning, ‘‘ Will your grace command,’’ &c.: but it was often the habit to mark stage-entrances earlier than the actual moment for them; and it is not likely that Benedick would utter all this in the presence of Beatrice, or that she would hear it without retort. (37) Use. Interest, rsurious advantage. (38) Civil, count,—civi! as an orange. A quibble on “ civil” and “Seville ;’ whence large numbers of oranges were imported. Those oranges known especialy as ‘Seville oranges’ are peculiarly bitter ; and Mr. Staunton well suggests that possibly “civil” (as a corruption of Seville) passed into use as a word meaning ‘sour and bitter,’ like this fruit. Probably, here, Beatrice, in mockery of Claudio’s manner, uses the word “civil” with reference to its varied meanings of ‘sour and bitter’ like an orange; ‘courteous and polite ;’ “meek and mild;’ ‘soberand grave ;’ in which latter senses Shakespeare elsewhere employs the word. (39) Blazon. The art of explaining coats of arms and heraldiz colours. (40) Conceit. ” Jealous conception or surmise, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. fAcr IT. Beat. Good lord, for alliance!44—Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burned:* [ may sit in a corner, and cry heigh-ho for a husband ! D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. I would rather have one of your father’s getting. Hath your grace ne’er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady ? Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days: your grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.—Cousins, God give you joy! Leon. Niece, will you lock to those things I told you of ? Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle.—By your grace’s pardon. [ Heit. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. Leon. There’s little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad, but when she sleeps ; and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappi- ness,*° and waked herself with laughing. D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. Oh, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit. D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Bene- dick, Leon. Oh lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad ! D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church ? Claud. To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love have all his rites. Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night ; and a time too brief, too, to have all things answer my mind. D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules’ labours; which is, to (41) Cue. A theatrical technicality for the concluding words of a speech, which gives warning to the next speaker that his turn is come to speak. (42) Poor fool. Used as a kindly expression. See Note 31, Act iv., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.”’ (43) On the windy side. Shakespeare uses this expression for the ae sheltered from the wind; protected from buffets, troubles, or perils, (44) Good lord, for alliance! This is said to have been an exclamation equivalent to ‘Heaven send me a husband!’ But Beatrice also uses it in reference to Claudio’s calling her “cousin;’’? as if she would say, ‘This is how relationships spread !’ (45) Thus goes every one to the world, &c. ‘To go to the world’ was a familiar phrase for getting married. “ Sun-burned” is used by, Shakespeare to express unattractive; the complexion tanned, injured by exposure to the weather, and the beauty spoilt; there- fore no longer likely to win a husband. (46) Unhappiness. Used here in its mingled senses of ‘grief’ and ‘mischief.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses “unhappy”’ for *“ mischievous.’ Scenz IIT. | bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection,” the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assist- ance as I shall give you direction. Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights’ watchings. Claud. And I, my lord. D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain,** of approved valour, and con- firmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; —and J, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [ Exeunt. SCENE II.—Another room in Lronato’s house. Enter Don Joun and Boracuio. D. John. It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage ? Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. D. John. Show me briefly how. Bora. Ithink I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. D. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber- window. D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage ? Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. (47) A mountain of affection. Some have taken exception against this expression as being “a strange one;’’ but it is no more than a humorous exaggeration of such phrases as ‘a mass of affection,’ or ‘a heap of liking.’ (48) Strain. Used for stock, descent, race, lineage. (49) Queasy. Squeamish, fastidious. (50) Stale. Used to express a woman hackneyed in eyil courses. (51) Intend. Sometimes, as here, used for ‘ pretend.’ (52) Term me Claudio. Theobald proposed that ‘Borachio’ should here be substituted for “Claudio;’’ and the proposition MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 227 D. John. What proof shall I make of that ? Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue ? D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour anything. Bora. Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend*®' a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as,—in love of your brother’s honour, who hath made this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,—that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio;” and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding; —for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent ;—and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero’s disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. D. John, I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [| Kxeunt. SCENE UI.—Leonaro’s garden. Enter BENERICE. Bene. Boy! Enter a Boy. Boy. Signior? Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. Iam here already, sir. Bene. I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again. ([EHzit Boy.]—I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the seems plausible. Butif we bear in mind that Borachio can induce Margaret to dress up in her lady’s clothes, and let him call her “Hero,” itis not unlikely that she might term him “ Claudio,” as carrying out their assumption of the affianced lovers’ parts for a joke; while, at the same time, Borachio could so conduct the con- versation between them as to mislead the hidden spectators into the belief that the lady she personated knew him to be himself. In Act iii., sc. 3, he says—“ Chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made.” ? (53) Orchard. Often used for garden. See Note 49, Act i, Originally spelt ‘ hortyard ;’ Latin, hortus, a garden. eee 228 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man, and a soldier; and now is he turned orthographer ; his words are a very fantastical banquet,—just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster; but Pll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair,—yet I am well: another is wise, —yet I am well; another virtuous,—yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or [ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her ; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please Heaven.**—Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. | Withdraws. Enter Don PEpRo, Cravpio, and Lronato, followed by Bavruazar and Musicians. D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music ? Claud. Yea, my good lord.—How still the evening is, As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony ! D. Pedro. [Aside to Cuaupio.] See you where Benedick hath hid himself? Claud. [Aside to D. Pepro.] Oh, very well, my lord: the music ended, We'll fit the kid-fox® with a pennyworth. D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we’ll hear that song again. Balth. Oh, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once. D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection :— I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing ; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woos, Yet will he swear, he loves. D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come ; Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes,— There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting. D. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks ; Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing ! 56 [ Music. (54) Her hair shall be of what colowr it please Heaven. This may be a hit at the fashion of wearing false hair, and of dyeing the hair, as evidenced by a passage in this very play, Act iii., sc. 4, where we find—*T like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner.’”’ But we feel it to be also a playful conclusion to Benedick’s enumeration of the points he should require in the woman he chooses for a wife: rich, wise, virtuous, fair, mild, noble, of good discourse, she must be 3 but as for the colour of her hair, he leaves that to Heaven. (55) Kid-fow. Probably an expression for young fox, or cub-fox. There may, however, be reference to a game alluded to, “ Hamlet,” Act iv., sc. 2, “Hide fox, and all after ;’’ and some editors have proposed to read “ hid fox,” .__ (58) Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. ‘Nothing,’ printed nothing’ in the Folio, has been changed to ‘noting;’ but the spelling should be preserved as in the original, adding a long mark over the 6 to signify its pronunciation, and to point out the in- [Acr IT. Bene. [Aside.] Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! —Is it not strange that sheep’s guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies ?—Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done. BALTHAZAR sings. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore 3 To one thing constant never: Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny ; Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo57 Of dumps so dull and heavy ; The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy. Then sigh not so, &e. D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. D. Pedro, Ha? no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift. Bene. (Aside.] An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and I pray Heaven his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. D. Pedro. [To Cravpio.] Yea, marry.—Dost thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music ; for to-morrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber-window. Balth. The best I can, my lord. D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. + [Hzeunt Bauruazar and Musicians.|—Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day,—that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick ? Claud. Oh, ay.—[Aside to Prpro.] Stalk on, stalk on ;°* the fowl sits. [Aloud.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man. Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. Bene. [Aside.] Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner ? Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it: but that she loves him with an enraged affection,—it is past the infinite of thought. D. Pedro. Maybe she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith, like enough. Leon. Oh, lord, counterfeit! There was never tended pun between “nothing” and “noting.” An anecdote from No. 38 of the Ashmolean MSS. serves to show that “nothing”’ was sometimes thus pronounced :—“ Mr. Ben Jonson and Mr. Wm. Shakespeare being merrie at a tavern, Mr. Jonson begins this for his epitaph, “Here lies Ben Jonson, O Was once one:’ He gives it to Mr. Shakespeare to make up, who presently writ— ‘That, while he liv’d, was a slow thing, And now, being dead, is no-thing.’” (57) Sing no mo. “Mo” isan old form of ‘more ;’ here used for the sake of rhyme. (58) Stalk on, stalk on. A sporting phrase, having reference to the ‘stalking horse;’ a real or painted and stuffed animal, from behind which sportsmen used to shoot at their game. Eee YF Le tty Ci Ly re har ——-~ Claudio. Oh, ay.—[ Aside to Pepro.] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sibs. [Alowd.] I did never think that lady would have loved any mau. . . Benedick. (Aside.] Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner ? Act II. Scene II. Scenz IIT. | counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. _ D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she ? Claud. [Aside to them.| Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you —[To Cuiavpio] you heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did, indeed. D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been in- vincible against all assaults of affection. Leon. I-would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick. Bene. {Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.*? Claud. [Aside to them.| He hath ta’en the infec- tion: hold it up. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick ? Leon. No; and swears she never will: that’s her torment. * Claud. *Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: “Shall I,” says she, “that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?” Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit till she have writ a sheet of paper :—my daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. Oh,—when she had writ it, and was read- ing it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice in the sheet ?— Claud. That. Leon. Oh, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence ;® railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: “TI measure him,” says she, “ by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.” Claud. Then down upon ber knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, cries, “Oh, sweet Benedick! Heaven give me patience!” Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstacy® hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself: it is very true. D. Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. Claud. To what end? He would but make a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to (5°) Knavery cannot, sure, hide himself, &c. Instance of “himself” used where we should now use ‘itself.’ (Go) A thousand halfpence. Meaning ‘a thousand small pieces:’ the silver halfpence then current being very minute pieces or coins. (61) Ecstacy. Violent emotion; mental disturbance. See Note 28, Act iii., “Tempest.’’ (62) An he should. ‘If he should.’ “ An,” or “an if’ were often used for ‘if.’ ; (63) Wisdom and blood. “Blood” is here used for vehement affection. See Note 22, Act ii. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 231 hanz him. She’s an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. Claud. And she is exceeding wise. D. Pedro. In everything, but in loving Benedick. Leon. Oh, my lord, wisdom and blood® com- bating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me: I would have daffed® all other respects, and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender® of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible® spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward hap- piness.® Claud. wise. ; D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. Leon. And I take him to be valiant. D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear. Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love ? Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel. Leon. Nay, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first. D. Pedro. Well, we will hear farther of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Bene- dick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady. Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. [Aside to them.] If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. D. Pedro. [Aside to Lronato.] Let there be the *Fore Heaven, and in my mind, very (64) Daffed. To “daff,’”’ like ‘ doff,’ or ‘do off,’ means to set aside, put by, cast away. (65) Tender. Offer, or proffer. (66) Contemptible. Used for contemptuous, contemning, scornful. (67) Proper mam. A well-proportioned, comely, well-made, hand- some man. (68) He hath indeed a good outward happiness. He is indeed most felicitous in exterior accomplishment. (69) Wit. Often used for wisdom, and for intellectual power generally. a ee 232 same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Exeunt Don Pepro, Ciauprio, and Lronaro. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [Acr II. truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous,—’tis so, I cannot reprove” it; and wise, but for loving me :—by my troth, it is no addition to her wit; nor no great argument of her folly,—for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some old quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, be- cause I have railed so long against marriage: but | . Ail ) \\ iH | i \ \ \ i AVE Ursula. {Aside.] She’s lim’d, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam. Hero. Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [ Aside.] If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: [£xeunt Hero and Ursvta. BEATRICE advances. Beatrice. Benepick advances from the arbour. Bene. This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne.”? They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent.” Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.—I did never think to marry.—I must not seem proud.—Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair ;—’tis a re Sadly borne. Seriously carried on. See Note 26, Act i. (71) Bent. Used for inclination or tendency towards; leaning to, attachment for. As used by Shakespeare, this word seems to What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true ? Act ITI. Scene I. doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No; the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.—Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter BEatrice. Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. SS . - include (figuratively) the sense of the utmost strain or tension, like that of a bow; and also the sense of scope, or object aimed at. (72) Reprove. Used for disprove, refute, disallow. SS Se Eee eee Beatrice. , 1am sent to bid you come in to dinner. I thank you for your pains, Against my will Benedick, Fair Beatrice Act II. Scene IIT. ? 30 e * ‘ ‘ ss - 7 a : Red fe ; a ie ee Mm ‘nth ge. “—aesita q8 Y g * i Oe aaa i ) oes = Scene [.| Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come. Bene. You take pleasure, then, in the message ? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point, and choke a daw withal.—You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. [ Hwit. ACT SCENE I.—Leonato’s garden. Enter Hero, Marcaret, and Ursuna. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour ; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing! with the prince and Claudio: Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say that thou overheard’st us ; And bid her steal into the pleachéd* bower, 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:—there will she hide her, To listen our propose. This is thy office ; Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. Marg. Vil make her come, I warrant you, presently. [ Heit. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley* up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick. When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to thee must be, how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin; Enter Brarrice, behind. For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference. a a pleasant’st angling is to see the is Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait : So angle we for Beatrice; who even now (1) Proposing. _Conversing, discoursing; French, propos, dis- course, conversation, talk. Farther on, in tne same speech, we have—*To listen our propose ;”’ the reading of the Quarto, and mis- printed ‘ purpose’ in the Folio. (2) Pleached. Intertwined with climbing plants. See Note 49, ct i. (3) Alley. See Note 49, Act i. (4) Haggards of the rock. A “haggard”? was an untameable or MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 235 Bene. Ha! “Against my will, [ am sent to bid you come in to dinner ;”—there’s a double meaning in that. “I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me ;”—that’s as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks.—If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, lama Jew. I will go get her picture. | Heit. Te Lele Is couchéd in the woodbine coverture. Fear you not my part of the dialogue. Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothin Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.— [They advance to the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock.‘ Urs. But are you sure ‘That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothéd lord. Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam ? Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; But I persuaded them, if they lov’d Benedick, To wish® him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? Hero. Oh, god of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But Nature never fram’d a woman’s heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising® what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project’ of affection, She is so self-endear’d. Urs. Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. Hero. Why, you speak truth, I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, hew rarely featur’d, irreclaimable hawk; French, hagard, wild, fierce. The wild hawk known as the “ haggard”? was peculiarly unsocial and “coy ” in its habits. (5) To wish. Used by Shakespeare here, and elsewhere, for ‘ to recommend.’ ‘ ; aps . y ' (6) Misprising. Taking amiss, depreciating, disparaging, despis- ing. d Fin) Nor take no shape nor project. Instance of double negative. 236 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. But she would spell him backward :8 if fair-fae’d, She’d swear the gentleman should be her sister ; If black,® why, Nature, drawing of an antic,'° Made a foul blot ; if tall, a lance ill-headed ; If low, an agate! very vilely cut; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block movéd with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out ; And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not com- mendable. Hero. No, not to be so odd,” and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable : But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air; oh, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit! Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. Urs. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say. Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, Pll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with: one doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking. Urs. Oh, do not do your cousin such a wrong! She cannot be so much without true judgment (Having so swift and excellent a wit! As she is priz’d to have) as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. Hero. He is the only man of Italy,— Always excepted my dear Claudio. Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, Goes foremost in report through Italy. Hero, Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.— ‘When are you married, madam ? Hero. Why, every day to-morrow.!5 go in: I'll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel, Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. Urs. [Aside.] She’s lim’d,' I warrant you: we have caught her, madam. Come, (8) Spell him backward. Turn him into ridicule, by giving a per- verse interpretation to all his qualifications. _ (9) Black. Dark-complexioned; with black hair, beard, eye- brows, and eyes. (10) An antic. A grotesque figure, a distorted form. (11) An agate. There was a fashion of wearing in the hat an agate stone cut into the semblance of a human figure; and these little images became the type of persons of diminutive stature. (12) No, not to be so odd. An instance of the double negative, which Shakespeare, in his rapid dialogues (as persons often do in rapid speaking), sometimes uses. (13) So swift and excellent a wit. “Swift’’ is here used for frompt in perception, quick in discernment; as “ wit” is used for intelligence, discrimination. (14) Argument. Here used for powers of conversation. (15) Why, every day to-morrow. This is given, in many editions, with a break (;—) between “day” and “to-morrow:” but the Folio printed it as we give it in the text; and we take it to mean, Why, to-morrow I shall be ever after married,’ in sportive reply [Acr III. Hero. [Aside.] If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Eweunt Hero and Ursvta. Beatrice advances. Beat. What fire is in mine ears?!” Can this be true ? Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much ? Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such.'8 And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.'9 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. . [ Hatt. SCENE II.—A room in Leonato’s house. Enter Don Pepro, Ciaupio, Benepicx, and Lronato. D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I towards Arragon. Claud, VU bring you thither,” my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me. D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company ; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string, and the little hangman” dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say 1: methinks you are sadder. Claud. I hope he be in love. D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there’s no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad, he wants money. Bene. I have the toothache. D. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it! Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.” to Ursula’s asking, “When are you married?” instead of “ When are you to be married 2’? (16) She’s lim’d. Ensnared, as a sparrow with bird-lime. (17) What fire is in mine ears? In reference to the ancient popular belief that the ears burn, glow, and tingle, when we are talkcd of in our absence. (18) No glory les behind the back of such. An instance of Shake- speare’s elliptical way of referring to an implied particular, and meaning— No credit exists for those who overhear what is said of them while they are supposed to be away, and who are proud, scornful, and contemptuous.’ (19) Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. A metaphor in allusion to her having been called a wild bird, when her spirits were compared to “ haggards of the rock.’ (20) Bring you thither. “ Bring” was sometimes used for accom- pany, attend, escort. (21) Hangman. Used for a rogue, a mischievous boy; as we might now say ‘the little villain,’ ‘the young rascal.’ (22) Hang it first, and draw it afterwards. There is here punning allusion to the ancient barbarous punishment for high treason, Scene IT.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 237 D. Pedro. What! sigh for the toothache ? | with him; and the old ornament of his cheek has Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm ? already stuffed tennis-balls. Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by that has it. the loss of a beard. Claud. Yet say I he is in love.¥ D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet: can D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy™‘ in | you smell him out by that ? him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange Claud. That’s as much as to say, the sweet disguises ; as, to be a Dutchman to-day, a French- | youth’s in love. hyip First Watch. We charge you, in the prince’s name, stand! Act III. Scene ITT. man to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melan- at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all choly. doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as | face? it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the would have it appear he is. which, I hear what they say of him. Claud. If he be not m love with some woman, Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is there is no believing old signs. He brushes his hat | now crept into a lute-string, and now governed by o’ mornings ; what should that bode ? stops. D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber’s ? D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for Claud. No, but the barber’s man hath been seen him. Conclude, conclude he is in love. consisting in hanging the delinquent partially, cutting him down while still alive, drawing forth his bowels, and burning them before his face. This sentence was sometimes varied by (and afterwards changed to) drawing on a hurdle to the place of execution, and then hanging till quite dead. See Note 27, Act ii, “ Measure for Measure.” (23) Yet say I he is in love. That “toothache” was supposed to be a symptom of being “i Beaumont and Fletcher’s “False One:’’—‘“ You had best be troubled with the toothache too, for lovers ever are. ”’ (24) Fancy. Here played on in its sense of love or affection, and in its sense of fantasy, caprice, or whim. (25) Slops. Large loose trousers; still worn by sailors, purchased of ‘slop-sellers.’ (26) Crept into a lute-string, and now governed by stops. A lute was the instrument to which love-songs were generally sung. There slops,” and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no Claud. And when was he wont to wash his in love,” we find from a passage in 238 Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in despite of all, dies for him. D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face up- wards.” Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache.— Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses** must not hear. [ Exewnt Benepick and Lronato. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. °Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this, played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. Enter Don Joun. D. John. My lord and brother, God save you! D. Pedro. Good den,” brother. D. John. Tf your leisure served, I would speak with you. D. Pedro. In private? D. John. If it please you: yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns hin. D. Pedro. What’s the matter ? D. John. [To Cuaupio.] Means your worship to be married to-morrow ? D. Pedro. You know he does. D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. D. John. You may think I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage,—surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill bestowed. D. Pedro. Why, what’s the matter ? D, John. I came hither to tell you; and, cir- ? is a play on the word “stops;’’ which mean the portions of the Inte whereon the notes are formed by pressing or stopping with the finger, and the pauses or checks that “‘ his jesting spirit ’’ is now subject to on account of his love “‘ melancholy.”’ (27) Buried with her face wpwards. There have been various explanations given of this passage; but to us it seems probably a playful rejoinder to Clandio’s remark that there is a lady dying for Benedick, meaning—‘ Depend upon it, she’ll die and be buried like other people.’ (28) Hobby-horses. The “hobby-horse’’ was a character in the old May-games, and was represented by a man in as much paste- board as formed the head and hinder parts of a horse, while the legs were concealed by a long drapery or foot-cloth that nearly reached the ground. The performer pranced and curveted as burlesquely as possible; so that the word “hobby-horse ” came to signify an extravagant buffoon. Milton thus uses it in a passage that aptly illustrates this:—‘ The word politician is not usual to his maw, and thereupon he plays the most notorious hobby-horse, jesting and frisking in the Inxury of his nonsense.’’—Colasterion. _ (29) Good den. An abbreviation of ‘good even,’ or ‘good even- ing ;’ but the expression was also used for ‘good day.’ (39) Go but with me to-night. Shakespeare, by these words, here brings the time of the action of the play up to the eve of the wedding-day; as he has marked Dramatic Time throughout the progress of the scenes hitherto. The first Act opens about after- noon or evening, for there is talk of “supper” soon after Don Pedro’s arrival. The second Act commences after supper; then comes the masked ball, the wooing Hero and bestowing her on Claudio, who MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. (Act IIL. cumstances shortened (for she hath been too long a talking of), the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who, Hero ? D. John. _Hiven she; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero. Claud. Disloyal! D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness: I could say she were worse: think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till farther warrant: go but with me to-night,® you shall see her chamber-window entered, even the night before her wedding-day ; if you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so? D. Pedro. Iwill not think it. D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, [ will join with thee to disgrace her. D. John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. D. Pedro. Oh, day untowardly turned! Claud. Oh, mischief strangely thwarting ! D. John. Oh, plague right well prevented ! So will you say when you have seen the sequel. | Hxeunt. SCENE III.—A Street. Enter Docperry and Verens,*! with the Watch. Dog. Are you good men and true ? Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation,” body and soul. Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for begs that their nuptials may take place on the morrow, when Leonato replies, ‘‘ Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a Just seven-night;”’ this week’s interval Don Pedro proposes to beguile by the plot on Benedick and Beatrice; in the next scene Borachio proposes the scheme against Hero, with the words, “Bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding :”’ and the following scene (Act ii., sc. 3) is occupied with the conversation in the garden overheard by Benedick, which may be supposed to be any day during the week’s interval; for be it remarked, that there is no farther indication of time in that scene than the words, “‘ How still the evening is,” &c., and “ Let us send her to call him in to dinner;”? which, by the by, seems as if it should be ‘supper,’ since that was the evening meal at that period ; but Shakespeare sometimes purposely puts these vaguenesses where he wishes to give indefinitely specified Time. The third Act begins with the conversation listened to by Beatrice in the arbour, and closed by Hero’s speaking of the “attires’’ she is to wear “to- morrow ;”’ thus bringing the time to the day before the nuptials, and followed up by the present scene. (31) Dogberry and Verges. “ Dogberry’’ is one of the names of the cornelian cherry-tree, the fruit of which is remarkably austere; and “ Verges ” is a provincial corruption of verjuice, which is made from crab-apples. The exquisite fun of giving these names to men, one of whom has “always been called a merciful man,” and the other “a good old man,’’—“honest as the skin between his brows,” is of a piece with the whole humour of these two delectable charac- ters, who consider themselves exemplars of legal severity. (32) Salvation. Both Verges and Dogberry seem to take “salva- Scenz III.] them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince’s watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man* to be constable ? First Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; for they can write and read. Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. Heaven hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well- favoured® man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature. Sec. Watch. Both which, master constable,— Dog. You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give Heaven thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge:—you shall compre- hend all vagrom*® men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name. Sec. Watch. How if ’a will not stand ? Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank Heaven you are rid of a knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince’s subjects. Dog. ‘True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince’s subjects.—You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable*” and not to be endured. Sec. Watch. We will rather sleep than talk: we know what belongs to a watch. Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman ;** for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills® be not stolen.—Well, you are to call at all the ale- houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. Sec. Watch. How if they will not ? Dog. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them or. Sec. Watch. Well, sir. Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man;*? and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them," why, the more is for your honesty. tion’’ for something as terrible in the way of punishment, as Elbow imagines “continue” to be. See Note 26, Act li., ““ Measure eet a 33) Give them their charge. To give his fellows their charge was part of a constable’s say : : (34) Most desartless man. For the man of most desert, or merit. (35) Well-favowred. Good-looking. (36) Vagrom, For vagrant. (37) Tolerable. For intolerable. (38) Ancient and most quiet watchman. There is, we think, a play on the word “ ancient’ here; in its sense of ‘old’ (and all who can remember what old-fashioned watchmen were, even down to so late an era as the first quarter of the nineteenth century, can testify to the stolidity of the old watchman; in the lively words of the delightful essayist, Leigh Hunt,—* heavy, indifferent, more coat nn s—‘(C‘(‘Ci‘s‘isis*@S MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 239 Sec. Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him ? Dog. Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your company. Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner. Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in hin. Verg. If you hear a child ery in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. Sec. Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us ? Dog. Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. Tis very true. Dog. This is the end of the charge.—You, con- stable, are to present the prince’s own person: if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. Verg. Nay, by’r lady, that I think ’a cannot. Dog. Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that knows the statues,” he may.stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. Verg. By’r lady, I think it be so. Dog. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your own: and good night.—Come, neighbour. Sec. Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge : let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato’s door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu; be vigitant,* I beseech you. [Hxeunt Doceurry and VERGES. Enter Boracuto and Conrapr. What, Conrade !— [Aside.] Peace! stir not. Conrade, I say !— Con. Here, man; I am at thy elbow. Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow. Bora. Watch. Bora. than man, pondering yet not pondering, old but not reverend, im- mensely useless’’), and in its sense of belonging to the ‘ ancientry,’ which meant venerable men, elders of honourable station, persons of dignity and reverence. (39) Bills. These were long staves with hooked ends, like hal- berds; borne on the shoulders by watehmen going their rounds at night. S40) True man. Sometimes used by Shakespeare for ‘honest man.’ So, at the beginning of this scene, we have, “ Are you good “men and true?” which, besides meaning ‘true to your trust,’ or ‘trustworthy,’ means ‘ honest,’ ‘ upright.’ (41) Make with them. Have to do with them, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” (42) Statues. For statutes. (43) Vigitant. For vigilant. ee Note 26, 240 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Con. I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward with thy tale. Bora. Stand thee close, then, under this pent- house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard,“ utter all to thee. Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, masters: yet stand close. , Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. Con. Is it possible that-any villainy should be so dear ? Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were pos- sible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Con. I wonder at it. Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed.” Thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. Con. Yes, it is apparel. Bora. JI mean, the fashion. Oon. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is ? Watch. [Aside.] I know that Deformed; ’a has been a vile thief this seven year; ’a goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name. Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody ? Con. No; *twas the vane on the house. Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five and thirty ? sometime fashioning them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reechy painting ;“° sometime like good Bel’s priests in the old church-window; sometime lke the shaven Hercules in the smirched*’ worm-eaten tapestry ? Con. All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? Bora. Not so, neither: but know, that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentle- woman, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber-window, bids me a thou- sand times good night,—I tell this tale vilely :—I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and placed, and possessed by (44) Like a true drunkard. In allusion to his name, Borachio; which is a Spanish word for a skin used to keep wine in, also for a cask or bottle. The Spanish word for ‘drunk’ is borrdcho. (45) Unconfirmed. Inexperienced, unpractised, unproficient, ignorant. (46) Reechy painting. Painting discoloured by smoke; one name of smoke being ‘ reek.’ (47) Smirched. Soiled, sullied, obscured by dirt. (48) Recovered the most dangerous piece of witchery. ‘‘ Recovered” for ‘ discovered ;’ “ witchery”’ for ‘ treachery.’ (49) °A wears a lock. “?A” is a colloquial corruption of ‘he.’ The fashion of wearing a long lock of hair, sometimes called a love-lock, was originally introduced from the Continent by young gallants; and thence descended to the adoption by ruffianly fellows, thieves, &c. Its foreign origin is shown by a quotation from Greene’s “Quip for an Upstart Courtier,’’ 1592; wherein a barber asks his customer, “ Will you be Frenchified with a love-lock down to your shoulders, wherein you may hang your mistress’ favour?”’ [Acr ITI. my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter. Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero? Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ; but the devil, my master, knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged ; swore he would meet her, as he was ap- pointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’ernight, and send her home again without a husband. First Watch. name, stand! Sec. Watch. Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of witchery** that ever was known in the common- wealth. First Watch. And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; ’a wears a lock.‘® Con. Masters, masters,— Sec. Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Con. Masters,— First Watch. Never speak: we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, ~ being taken up of these men’s bills.°° Con. A commodity in question,*! I warrant you. —Come, we'll obey you. [ Hxeunt. We charge you, in the prince’s SCENE IV.—A room in Leonato’s house. Enter Hero, MarGcaret, and Ursvta. Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise. Urs. I will, lady. Hero. And bid her come hither. Urs. Well. [ Heit. Marg. Troth, I think your other rabato* were better. Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. Marg. By wy troth, it’s not good; and I war- rant your cousin will say so. These “locks’’ were sometimes worn ornamented with showy ribbons; and were occasionally so large that they could be drawn over the face, and serve as a sort of mask for bravoes and lawless persons. The celebrated Puritan, Prynne, wrote a treatise called “The Unlovelinesse of Love-lockes, or a Discourse proving the wearing of a Locke to be useemly,’’ 1628. (50) A goodly commodity, being taken wp of these men’s bills. Borachio plays on the words: using “‘ commodity ’”’ in the sense of ‘advantage’ or ‘ profit,’ and in that of ‘goods’ or ‘articles of merchandise;’ “taken up” in its sense of ‘apprehended’ or ‘arrested,’ and in that of ‘ obtaining goods on credit;’ “ bills”’ in its sense of ‘watchmen’s staves,’ and in that of ‘bonds’ or ‘notes of hand.’ (51) In question. Conrade uses this expression in a double sense ; that of to be ‘ examined,’ or ‘undergo an examination,’ and that of subject to inspection as questionable goods. (52) Rabato. A ruff, made to fall back on the shoulders; from the French, rabattre, to fall back. Scrnz IV.) : Hero. My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another : T’ll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner ;** and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown, that they praise so. Hero. Oh, that exceeds, they say. Marg. By my troth, it’s but a night-gown in respect of yours,—cloth o’ gold, and cuts,** and laced with silver, set with pearls down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts round,” underborne with a bluish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t. _ Hero. Heaven give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy. Marg. *Twill be heavier soon by the weight of wedlock. Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed ? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably ? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, saving your reverence,—“ a hus- band :” an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, Pll offend nobody. Is there any harm in “the heavier for wedlock?” None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise ’tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes. Enter Beatrice. Hero. Good: morrow, coz. Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. Hero. Why, how now! do you speak ia the sick tune ? Beat. Iam out of all other tune, methinks. Marg. Clap us into “ Light 0’ love;”®* that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I’ll dance it. Beat. Yea, “Light o’ love,” with your heels !— *Tis almost five o’clock, cousin; ’tis time you were ready.—By my troth, I am exceeding ill:—heigh-ho! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.” (53) The new tire within excellently, if the hair, &c. ‘Tire’? was a name for a head-dress. See Note 22, Act iii., “ Merry Wives.” “The hair” here.mentioned is the ‘false hair’ spoken of in Note 54, Act ii., of this play, which it was then the fashion to wear in addition to the wearer’s own tresses. (54) Cuts. We take this to mean the ‘slashes’ or openings filled in with puffed silk or satin, then sometimes forming orna- ments of dresses. (55) Down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts round. A phrase that would now be written ‘down the sleeves, the side-sleeves, and round the skirts.’ “Side-sleeves” mean long sleeves (“side,” or ‘syde,’ being still a word in North provincial use to express long or ample, as applied to garments): wide, open, or hanging sleeves ; worn in addition to the under sleeves, or sleeves proper. (56) “ Light 0’ Love.” See Note 21, Act i., “Two Gentlemen of Verona. (57) For the letter that begins them all, H. A pun on the word ache, _ then pronounced aitch. See Note 59, Act i., “The Tempest. For” is here used in the sense of ‘ because of,’ ‘on account of.’ (58) Turned Turk. Margaret means to hint that Beatrice has become an apostate to her creed that no man is worthy of being her husband. (59) Trow? A form of inquiry, sometimes varied by ‘I trow?’ or ‘trow you?’ It came from the Gothic trawan, to think, to believe firmly, to be thoroughly persnaded of ; and meant originally, think you?’ “believe you?’ But from the way in which Shake- one and other writers of his time use the expression, it has more the effect of ‘I wonder.’ (60) An excellent perfume. The fashion of scented gloves then 31 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 241 Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk,** there’s no more sailing by the star. Beat. What means the fool, trow ?*? Marg. Nothing I; but Heaven send every one their heart’s desire ! Hero. 'These gloves the count sent me; they are an excellent perfume.” Beat. Iam stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly catching of cold. Beat. O Lord, help me! Lord, help me! how long have you professed apprehension ? & Marg. Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely ? Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap.°—By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus,® and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prick’st her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love: nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not® to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging :® and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.” Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ? Marg. Nota false gallop. Re-enter UrRsuna. Urs. Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church. prevailing is alluded to more than once by Shakespeare, as well as by Moliére in his “ Precieuses Ridicules,’ where Mascarille requests the young ladies to “allow their olfactory nerves to hover for a moment over his gloves;’’ and the reply is, ‘‘ They smell terribly sweet.” (61) Apprehension. Here used for intellectual quickness, prompt perception of witty analogies, aptness at making witticisms. (62) You should wear it in your cap. By this subtly ironical fleer at the displayful and coarser character of Margaret's attempted wit, Beatrice fully vindicates her own thorough possession of that native refined wit which she is accused of having “left.” (63) Cardwus Benedictus. Tle varied and wonderful qualities of Blessed Thistle, or “ holy-thistle,” are attested by citations from many old writers; and, among other things, it was said to be “much used in the time of any infection or plague, as also to expel any evil symptom from the heart.’ : : (64) Moral in this Benedictus. ‘ Moral” is used for occult sig- nification, pointed meaning; as the “moral”’ of a fable. By the way in which Beatrice starts at the word “ Benedictus,”’ she betrays her sense of the application of its first three syllables. (65) To think what I list; nor I list not, &c. Margaret uses the word “list’’ here in the sense of ‘like,’ ‘prefer,’ ‘incline to,’ ‘desire;’ but, as it seems to us, in the words “to think what I list” she makes covert punning allusion to Beatrice’s believing what she has listened to from the arbour. (66) He eats his meat without grudging. He eats the food (love) prepared for him in common with all men, instead of scoffing at it as he used to do. (67) You look with your eyes as other women do. You can recognise a handsome man when you see him, as all we women can. 242 Hero. good Ursula. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, [ Kxzeunt. SCENE V.—Another room in Lronato’s house. Enter Lronato, with DoaBerry and VERGES. Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh- bour ? Dog. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns® you nearly. Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. Dog. Marry, this it is, sir. Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. Leon. What is it, my good friends? Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, Heaven help, I would desire they were ; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.® Verg. Yes, I thank Heaven I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Dog. Comparisons are odorous: palabras,” neigh- bour Verges. Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers;"! but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ha! Dog. Yea, an ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis;” for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, [ am glad to hear it. Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [Acr IV. your worship’s presence, have ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out: Lord, help us! it is a world to see!7’—Well said, Vfaith, neighbour Verges :—well, he’s a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.— An honest soul, i’faith, sir; by my troth, he is, as ever broke bread: but all men are not alike,—alas! good neighbour. Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dog. Gifts that God gives. Leon. I must leave you. Dog. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons,’! and we would have them this morning examined before your wor- ship. Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it me: I am now in great haste, as may appear unto you. Dog.» It shall be suffigance.’ Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. Leon. Tl wait upon them: I am ready. | Exeunt Leonato and Messenger. Dog. Go, good partner, go, get. you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination those men. Verg. And we must do it wisely. Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you [pointing to his forehead]; here’s that shall drive some of them toa non com: only get the learned writer to set down the excommunication,” and meet me at the gaol. [ Kxeunt. ACT SCENE I.—The inside of a church. Enter Don Perpro, Don Jouy, Leonato, Friar Francis, Cuaupio, Brenrepick, Hero, Brarricr, and others. Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the (68) Decerns. For concerns. (69) Honest as the skin between his brows. A proverbial saying: most likely originating in the practice of branding on the forehead those convicted of dishonesty. (70) Palabras. The Spanish for ‘words.’ It passed into current use in England; and still exists in the corrupted form of ‘ palaver,’ used vulgarly for ‘futile words,’ or for ‘coarse flattery.” We have a synonyme for Dogberry’s “ palabras,’’ in Mr. Burchell’s “Fudge!” and in the more modern slang, “‘ Bosh !”’ (71) Lhe poor duke’s officers. This joke of a transposed word occurs also in “ Measure for Measure,” Act ii., sc. 1, where Elbow says, “I am the poor duke’s constable.” (72) A thousand pound. more than ’tis. The Folio gives ‘a thousand times;’ but ‘a thousand pound” (the reading of the ( lays plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. F'. Fran. Youcome hither, my lord, tomarry thislady? Claud. No. Leon. To be married to her:—friar, you come to marry her. Quarto) is more characteristic of the speaker’s style; “a thousand pound” seeming to be used by Shakespeare as a current phrase for some indefinite quantity or amount. See Note 4, Act iv., “Comedy of Errors.” : (73) It is a world to see! A common exclamation of the time, equivalent to‘It is wonderful to see!’ Probably the expression originated in something like ‘It is so strange a thing, as to be worthy that the whole world should see it !” (74) Comprehended two aspicious persons. “ Comprehended”’ for ‘apprehended ;’ “aspicious’’ for ‘ suspicious.’ (75) Suffigance. For ‘ sufficient.’ (76) Non com. An abbreviation of the Latin phrase, non compos mentis ; signifying ‘ not of right mind.’ (77) Excommunication. For ‘examination,’ as i> aay p a ea a Ne a? Scene I.] F. Fran. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count ? Hero. Ido. F. Fran. If either of you know any inward im- pediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it. Claud. Know you any, Hero? Hero. None, my lord. F'. Fran. Know you any, count ? Leon. I dare make his answer,—none. Claud. Oh, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do ! Bene. How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as, Ha, ha, he !? Claud. Stand thee by, friar.—Father, by your leave : Will you with free and unconstrainéd soul Give me this maid, your daughter ? Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ? D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank- fulness.— There, Leonato, take her back again : Give not this rotten orange to your friend; She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour.— Behold how like a maid she blushes here! Oh, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! Comes not that blood as modest evidence To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows? But she is none: Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. Leon. What do you mean, my lord ? Claud. Not to be married ; Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, Have vanquish’d the resistance of her youth,— Claud. I know what you would say. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large ; But, as a brother to his sister, show’d Bashful sincerity and comely love. (1) To utter it. This address is borrowed from the marriage ceremony; which was nearly verbally the same in Shakespeare’s time as at present. (2) As, Ha, ha, he! Benedick, to mark the irrelevance of Claudio’s exclamations, irrelevantly quotes from the Accidence, or first grammar. (3) Out on thee! Seeming! Punctuated in the Folio, “Out on thee seeming;” and altered in some editions to “Out on thy seeming!’’ in others to “Out on the seeming!’’ But it appears to us to be an indignant exclamation on Hero, and then a repetition of the word she has used; adding he will “write against it.” To “write against” any one, or anything, was a phrase used by Shakespeare for ‘ protest against’ or ‘denounce.’ For his employ- ment of the word “seeming,” see Note 83, Act ii., “ Measure for Measure.” (4) Speak so wide? “Wide” is here used for ‘wide of (or far from) the truth,’ and for ‘wide of (or far from) delicacy and pro- priety.’ Just as, before, “word too large” means word too gross, too improper. : (5) Sweet prince, why speak not you? In the Folio this speech is given to Leonato; but it is more likely that Leonato says nothing at this point till he says—‘ Are these things spoken,” &c.; whereas, “Sweet prince” is Claudio’s style of address to Don Pedro, and, moreover, it is characteristic of him to refer to the prince for MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 248 Hero. And seem’d I ever otherwise to you ? Claud. Out on thee! Seeming!* I will write against it: You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals That rage in savage sensuality. Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide ? Claud. Sweet prince, why speak not you ?® D. Pedro. What should I speak ? I stand dishonour’d, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale.® Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream ? D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. Hero. True !7—O God! Claud. Leonato, stand I here ? Is this the prince? is this the prince’s brother ? Is this face Hero’s? are our eyes our own ? Leon. All this is so: but what of this, my lord? Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter ; And, by that fatherly and kindly power® That you have in her, bid her answer truly. Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my chfid. Hero. O God! defend me! how am I beset !— What kind of catechising call you this ? Claud. 'To make you answer truly to your name. Hero. Isit not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach ? Claud. Marry, that can Hero: Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue. What man was he talk’d with you yesternight Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. Hero. I talk’d with no man at that hour, my lord. D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden.— Leonato, I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, Myself, my brother, and this grievéd count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; Who hath indeed, most like a liberal? villain, support, in reminder of his highness’s promise (Act iii., se. 2)—‘‘I will join with thee to disgrace her.’’ It is worthy of observation how consistently the Poet has drawn the mean character of Claudio throughout. Dramatic purpose required that he should be comely of person and exteriorly a gentleman, or he would not have won a prince’s favour and gained the love of a young lady; but it also required that he should be of an inferior nature, or he would have been incapable of throwing her off at the altar; and Shakespeare has shown him in the first instance anxious about the dower of Hero, by the inquiry, “Hath Leonato any son, my lord?”’ (Act i., sc. 1); then, facile in suspecting his friend and patron of being false to his word, where he says immediately upon hearing the accusation—“‘ The prince woos for himself;’’ and then, equally facile in believing his mistress to be false to her love, when he hears her accused of infidelity; following his quick belief by as quick a resolve to publicly “shame her” (Act iii., sc. 2). (6) Stale. See Note 50, Act ii. (7) True! Hero repeats Don John’s last word. This is one of the several instances we shall point out, where Shakespeare makes a speaker refer farther back than to the speech or words immediately preceding those in which the reference occurs. (8) Kindly power. Used for ‘right derived from kindred.’ (9) Liberal. Sometimes, as here, used for free, licentious. 244 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Confess’d the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. D. John. Fie, fie! they are Not to be nam’d, my lord, not to be spoke of ; There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.'® Claud. © Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been plac’d About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart ! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! For thee Pll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang," To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious.” Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point for me? [Hero swoons. Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down ? D. John. Come, let us go. thus to light, Smother her spirits up. These things, come [Exeunt Don PEpro, Don Joun, and Ciaupio. Bene. How doth the lady? Beat. Dead, I think :—help, uncle !— Hero! why, Hero !—uncle!—Signior Benedick !— friar ! Leon. O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wished for. Beat. How now, cousin Hero ! F. Fran. Have comfort, lady. Leon. Dost thou look up? FI’. Fran. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood ?¥’— Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches," Strike at thy life. Griev’d I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal Nature’s frame ?! Oh, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not with charitable hand Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates, Who smirchéd'* thus and mir’d with infamy, I might have said, “ No part of it is mine; (10) Misgovernment. This word is here used with greater force of meaning in criminality than ill-governed behaviour, misconduct; as Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word “government’’ (for a cea attribute) with more ample signification than it now ears. _ (11) On my eyelids shall conjecture hang. jecture hidden defects in every woman they see. (12) Gracious. Used for winning, attractive, captivating. (13) Printed in her blood. 'Testified to be true by her blushes. (14) On the rearward of reproaches. “ Rearward”’ (the word in the Quarto) is misprinted ‘reward’ in the Folio; but the passage ene fi would, following up these reproaches by death, kill thee myself. (15) Frame. Used here for order, ordination, disposal of events. In “‘Love’s Labour’s Lost,’ Act iii., sc. 1, Shakespeare has the word precisely in the sense of ‘ order,’ ‘regular condition : ’"—“ Like a German clock, still a repairing, ever out of frame.’ L (16) Smirchéd. See Note 47, Act iii. “My eyes shall con- [Acr IV. This shame derives itself from unknown loins?” But mine, and mine I lov’d, and mine I prais’d, And mine that I was proud on; mine so much, That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her; why, she—Oh, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, And salt too little, which may season give To her foul!’ tainted flesh ! Bene. Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so attir’d in wonder, I know not what to say. Beat. Oh, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. Leon. Confirm’d, confirm’d! Oh, that is stronger made Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron ! Would the two princes lie ? and Claudio lie, Who lov’d her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash’d it with tears? Hence from her! let her die. F'. Fran. Hear me a little; For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady: I have mark’d A thousand blushing apparitions 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; Trust not my reading nor my observation, 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.” Leon. Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left Is that she will not add to her transgression A sin of perjury ; she not denies it. Why seek’st thou, then, to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness ? F’. Fran. Lady, what man is he you are accus’d of? Hero. They know that do accuse me: I know none: If IT know more of any man alive, Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy !—Oh, my father ! Prove you that any man with me convers’d At hours unmeet,*! or that I yesternight (17) Foul. For foully. An adjective used adverbially is a poetic licence employed by many writers; and yet it has been proposed to change “foul tainted’’ here, as if the expression were wrong. _ (18) In Te whiteness bear away, &c. The Quarto prints ‘beat’ instead of “ bear;”’ and many editors follow the Quarto reading. But “bear” (the word in the Folio) appears to us to be more in harmony with the whole passage. (19) The tenour of my book. ‘ Book” here refers to the “ reading”’ mentioned in the line above: and the whole sentence means— “Which [“my observation”’] confirms with the seal of experience what my reading asserts.”’ (20) Biting error. It has been proposed to change “biting”? for ‘blighting’ here; but Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word “piting”’ to express ‘keenly piercing,’ ‘acutely painful,’ ‘sorely distressing.” For instance, in “ Merry Wives,” Act v., sc. 5, we find—“To repay that money will be a biting affliction.” (21) Unmeet. Unfit, unseemly, improper. AA USPS Ih | J i | | LA ZS See LE == ——= eseaea pane Claudio. No. Aero I do. Friar Francis. Y en ou come hither, my lord, to marry this lady P PR ae Leonato To be married to her:—friar, you come to marry her. Friar Francis. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count ? Act IV. Scene I. i | oath ca a TA A AWN | ay 14) SHH] Way eet we Thee ‘ae ei oye: a Scenz I.] Maintain’d the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. F. Fran. There is some strange misprision” in the princes. Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; ** And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.™ eon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her: if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find, awak’d in such a kind, Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.” FI’. Fran. Pause a while, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter, here, the princes left for dead: Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed : Maintain a mourning ostentation,”® And on your family’s old monument Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do ? F. Fran. Marry this, well carried, shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse ;—that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must be so maintain’d, Upon the instant that she was accus’d, Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus’d Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost, Why, then we rack the value,” then we find Thé virtue that possession would not show us, Whiles it was ours.—So will it fare with Claudio: When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination ; And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit, More moving delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv’d indeed; then shall he mourn, (22) Misprision. Used for mistake, misconception. (23) The ey bent of honour. The utmost degree or strain of honour. See Note 71, Act ii. (24) Frame of villainies. Framing, construction, or composition of villainies. (25) To quit me of them throughly. To procure me thorough requital or redress from them. See Note 44, Act v., “ Measure for Measure,” and Note 18, Act iii., “The Tempest.” (26) Ostentation. Show, appearance, demonstration. (27) Rack the value. Exaggerate or overstrain the value; stretch it to its utmost. (28) In his liver. See Note 7, Act iv., “The Tempest.” (29) Allaim. ‘“ Aim’’ is here used for ‘ desired end,’ ‘ drift,’ or *scope;’ rather the object or mark aimed at, than the aim taken. (30) If it sort not well. Shakespeare sometimes uses “ sort” to MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 247 (If ever love had interest in his liver), And wish he had not so accuséd her,— No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim” but this be levell’d false, The supposition of the lady’s death Will quench the wonder of her infamy : And if it sort not well,*® you may conceal her (As best befits her wounded reputation) dn some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: ‘And though you know my inwardness and love*! Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly, as your soul Should with your body. Leon. Being that I flow in grief, The smallest* twine may lead me. F. Fran. *Tis well consented: presently away ; For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.— Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure. [Hxeunt Friar Francis, Hero, and Lronato. Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while ? Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. Bene. I will not desire that. Beat. You have no reason; I do it freely. Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beat. Ah! how much might the man deserve of me that would right her ! Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. Bene. May a man do it? Beat. It is a man’s office, but not yours. Bene. Ido love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange ? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing 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 cousin. Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. > express ‘fall out,’ ‘happen or concur befittingly ;’ so in the last aoens of this play we find—“I am glad that all things sort so well.” (31) Inwardness and love is very much, 4c. Shakespeare uses “inwardness” for ‘intimacy’ here, as he uses “inward’’ for ‘intimate’ (see Note 51, Act 1ii., “ Measure for Measure’’); and he frequently has the verb in the singular after two nouns, as “is’’ after “inwardness and love.” (32) Being that I flow in grief, the smallest, §c. Not only is this facile yielding to friendly representations true to human nature in distress, but it is conveyed in an illustrative metaphor as perfectly true to the laws of natural philosophy. (33) A very even way. Shakespeare here uses the word “ even”’ in its senses of smooth, unrugged, level, and direct, straightforward, undeviating. eee n nn nnn EEE IETS EIEIInnnnESnsnnSnnESSnn MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 248 Beat. Will you not eat your word ? Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee. Beat. Why, then, Heaven forgive me! Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice ? Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you. none is left to protest. Bene. Come, bid me do anything for thee. Beat. Kall Claudio. Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. Beat. You kill me to deny it.** Farewell. Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. Beat. I am gone, though I am _ here :*®— there is no love in you.—Nay, I pray you, let me go. Bene. Beatrice,— (34) Deny it. Refuse to do it. (35) I am gone, ee Iam here. Beatrice’s way of saying she is gone in spirit, though held there personally by Benedick’s detaining hand. She wishes him to think that he keeps her there against her will; but she feels that she pretends to go, while she can’t help staying. Anything more perfectly characteristic than this charming [Acr IV. Beat. In faith, I will go. Bene. We'll be friends first. Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fight with mine enemy. Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy ? Beat. Is he not approved* in the height a vil- lain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my ; kinswoman ?—Oh, that I were a man!—What! bear Act IV. Scene II. Bene. And do it with all thy heart. | Hi ii (i Dogberry. Yea, marry, let them come before me.—-What is your name, friend ? Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that | her in hand*’ until they come to take hands; and then with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,—O Heaven! that I were a man! JI would eat his heart in the market-place. Bene. Hear me, Beatrice,— Beat. Talk with a man out at a window!—a proper saying! Bene. Nay, but Beatrice,— Beat. Sweet Hero!—she is wrong’d, she is slandered, sae is undone, Bene. Beat— little love-declaration scene, was never written even by the Prince of Dramatists himself. (36) Approved. Used here, as elsewhere, for ‘proved.’ (37) Bear her in hand. To “bear in hand”’ was an idiom for ‘beguile onward,’ ‘lure by false encouragement,’ ‘delude by main- taining an appearance of good-will.’ : Scene II.] Beat. Princes and counties !** Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, count confect ;*° a sweet gallant, surely! Oh, that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too:* he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero ? Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. Bene. Enough! I am engag’d; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, fare- well. | Hxewnt. SCENE I1.—A Prison. Enter Doacprrry, Verces, and Sexton, in gowns ; and the Watch, with Conraps& and Boracuio. Dog. Is our whole dissembly*! appeared ? Verg. Oh, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. Sex. Which be the malefactors ? Dog. Marry,” that am I and my partner. Verg. Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibi- tion to examine.* Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master con- stable. Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me.— What is your name, friend ? Bora. Borachio. Dog. Pray, write down — Borachio. — Yours, sirrah ? Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. Dog. Write down—master gentleman Conrade. —NMasters, do you serve God? Con. Yea, si Borat ea, sir, we hope. (38) Princes and counties! “County” was a title applied to noblemen generally. (39) Count confect. “Confect”’ (now corrupted into ‘ comfit’) and the modern word ‘ confectionary ’ are derived from the Italian word confetti, sugar-plums. Beatrice’s nickname for the con- temptible Claudio is characteristic and apt indeed. _ (40) Turned into tongue, and trim ones too. Shakespeare some- times gives easy effect to his dialogue, by thus using a singular substantive (as “‘tongue’’ here) followed by a plural reference (as “trim ones”). By “trim” he seems to mean neat, spruce, dapper, dainty, smooth-spoken. (41) Dissembly. For assembly. (42) Marry. A corruption of ‘By Mary.’ (43) The exhibition to examine. Verges means to say— We have the examination to exhibit;’ that is, to show Leonato, who has said (Act iii., se. 5) — Take their examination yourself and bring it 32 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 249 Dog. Write down—that they hope they serve God:—and write God first; for God defend** but God should go before such villains !—Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves ? Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. Dog. A marvellous witty* fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah: a word in your ear, sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves. Bora, Sir, I say to you we are none. Dog. Well, stand aside.—’Fore Heaven, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down—that they are none ? Sea. Master constable, you go not the way to examine: you must call forth the watch that are their accusers. Dog. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest*® way.—Let the watch come forth—Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men. First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s brother, was a villain. Dog. Write down—Prince John a villain— Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain. Bora. Master constable,— Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee. Sea. What heard you him say else? Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thou- sand ducats*? of Don John, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed. Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is. Sex. What else, fellow ? First Watch. And that Coun’, Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. Dog. Oh, villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption ** for this. Sex. What else? Sec. Watch. This is all. Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away: Hero was in this manner accused; in this very manner refused; and upon the grief of this, suddenly died.—Master constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato’s: I will go before, and show him their examination. [ Exit. Dog. Come, let them be opinioned.® Verg. Let them be in the hands—” me.’ Shortly after, in this scene, the sexton says—“I will go before, and show him their examination.” ‘ (44) God defend but, &c. ‘‘ Defend’’ is here used in the sense of ‘forbid. See Note 9, Act ii. ’ (45) Witty. Used for sharp, clever, quick-witted. (46) Eftest. Quickest, speediest, readiest. (47) Ducats. A “ducat’ was a coin so named from having originally been minted by dukes. A silver ducat was worth about four shillings and sixpence; a gold ducat, nine and sixpence. (48) Redemption. Dogberry uses this word as Verges used © salvation.”’ See Note 32, Act ili. (49) Opinioned. For pinioned. (50) Let them be in the hands * Steevens altered this to ‘Let them bein band.’ Inthe Folio, this and the next speech appear as one, printed thus :—‘ Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe.’ But Dogberry’s words, “ Let him write down—the prince’s officer, 250 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Con. Off, coxcomb! Dog. Od’s my life! where’s the sexton? let him write down —the prince’s officer, coxcomb.—Come, bind them.—Thou naughty varlet! Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my years ?*!—Oh, that he were here to write me down an ass !—but, masters, remember that Tam anass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.—No, thou villain, thou art full [Acr V, of piety,” as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow; and, which is more, an otticer; and, which is more, a house-holder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about him. Bring him away.—Oh, that I had been writ down an ass! [| Hzeunt. . ACT SCENE I.—Before Lronato’s house. Enter Lronato and AntTontro. Ant. Ifyou go on thus, you will kill yourself; And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve: give not me counsel ; Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so lov’d his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine, And bid him speak of patience ; Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form :— If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ; Cry “Sorrow, wag!” and hem, when he should groan ;! Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters :*—bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man: for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine’ to rage, coxcomh,”’ show it to have been uttered by one of the delinquents. The Folio gives the prefixes in this scene very confusedly. (51) Suspect. For ‘ respect.’ (52) Piety. For ‘ perfidy;’ or, perhaps, for ‘infamy ;’ _ For ‘per or even, perhaps, for ‘impiety. _ Ql) Cry “Sorrow, wag!” and hem, when he should groan. This line is printed in the Folio— And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone.’ Numerous alterations have been proposed: but Johnson’s, which is a mere transposition of the words “ ery’ and “and,” appears to us the most probable correction ; therefore we give it in our text. (2) Candle-wasters. This expression has been variously explained here. Some suppose it to mean rakes and revellers, who sit up all night carousing; others show it to have been used by Ben Jonson and writers of that time, for bookworms, consumers of the mid- night oil, or tallow. The context, “Patch grief with proverbs,” Vi Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air,! and agony with words: No, no; *tis all men’s office to speak patience To those that wring*® under the load of sorrow ; But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel : My griefs cry louder than advertisement.7 Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. Leon. I pray thee, peace,—I will be flesh and blood ; For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance.® Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself ; Make those that do offend you suffer too. Leon. There thou speak’st reason: nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied ; And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. Ant. Here come the prince and Claudio hastily. Enter Don Pzepro and Cravpio. D. Pedro. Good den, good den.° Claud. Good day to both of you. Teon. Hear you, my lords,— D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. renders the latter the more probable ; in which case, the meanin: would be— Stupefy the sense of misfortune by the conventiona: maxims of bookish people.’ é (3) Preceptial medicine. The medicine of precept; which ex- pression confirms the interpretation we adopt of “ candle-wasters.” (4) Charm ache with air. “To charm’ is here and elsewhere used for ‘to subdue as by a charm or spell.’ (5) Wring. Shakespeare sometimes uses this verb to express feeling an acute pang, to writhe under grief; in “ Cymbelino,”’ iii. 6, we find, “‘ He wrings at some distress.” (6) Sufficiency. Used for ‘ability,’ ‘capacity,’ ‘ efficiency,’ ‘ com- petent power,’ ‘sufficient strength.’ (7) My griefs cry louder than advertisement. clamour your admonitions. (8) Madea push at chanceand sufferance. “Push!” wasanold way of writing the interjection ‘ pish!’ or ‘pshaw!’ “Chance” is here used for ‘mischance;’ as “sufferance” is (and elsewhere) for ‘suffering.’ (9) Good den, good den. See Note 29, Act iii. My griefs out- Scene I.] Leon. Some haste, my lord!—well, fare you well, my lord :— Are you so hasty now ?—well, all is one. D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low. Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou, dis- sembler, thou :— Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword ; I fear thee not. Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand,!° If it should give your age such cause of fear: In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. Leon. Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at me: I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As, under privilege of age, to brag What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me, That I am fore’d to lay my reverence by, And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast belied mine innocent child: Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors,— Oh! in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, fram’d by thy villainy ! Claud. My villainy! Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. Leon. My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body, if he dare, Despite his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.!! Claud. Away! I will not have to do with you. Leon. Canst thou so daff me?'!? Thou hast killed my child: If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: But that’s no matter; let him kill one first ;— Win me and wear me,—let him answer me.— Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me: Sir boy, Pll whip you from your foining” fence ; Nay, as I am a gentleman, [ will. Leon. Brother,— Ant. Content yourself. Heaven knows I lov’d my niece ; (10) Beshrew my hand. For ‘a mischief upon my hand,’ or ‘ill betide my hand.’ See Note 24, Act ii, “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (11) Lustihood. Vigour, physical strength, energy, robustness. (12) Daffme. Put me off, set me aside. See Note 64, Act ii. (13) Foming. Thrusting. See Note 55, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” (14) Jacks. Used as we now use the word ‘jackanapes.’ See Note 62, Act i., “ Merry Wives ;’’ and Note 27, Act i., of the present ay. (15) Scambling. Scrambling, turbulent, contentious. (16) Cog. Deceive, delude. See Note 7, Act iii., ‘“ Merry Wives.” (17) Go anticly, and show outward hideousness. Dress up like swaggering buffoons, and put on exterior formidableness. (18) Wake your patience. Rouse, stir, or excite your patience, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 251 And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man, indeed, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue ; Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks,'* milksops !— Leon. Brother Antony,— Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,— Scambling,’ out-facing, fashion-mong’ring boys, That lie, and cog,'? and flout, deprave, and slander, Go anticly, and show outward hideousness,!” And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst ; And this is all. Leon. But, brother Antony,— Ant. Come, ’tis no matter: Do not you meddle; let me deal in this. D, Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.!* My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death: But, on my honour, she was charg’d with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. Leon. My lord, my lord,— D. Pedro. I will not hear you. Leon. No?— Come, brother, away.—I will be heard. Ant. And shall, Or some of us will smart for it. [Hxzeunt Lronato and ANTONIO. D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we went to seek. Enter Benepicr. Claud. Now, signior, what news ? Bene. Good day, my lord. ; D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part almost a fray. Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.” D, Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I deubt we should have been too young for them, Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both. Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof* melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit? Bene. It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it? D. Pedro, Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ? Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit.—I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.*! and convert it into wrath. in “ Coriolanus,”’ iii. 1 :—‘‘ Awake your dangerous lenity. (19) Two old men without teeth. This heartless speech of Claudio’s, relative to the father and uncle of the woman he had once loved, and whom he supposes to be dead in consequence of his own severity, gives the crowning touch of unfeelingness to his base character, as analysed in Note 5, Act iv. (20) High-proof. We take this to be inversely applied to “melan- choly,’’ in punning allusion to the phrase, ‘spirits above proof.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word “ proof’’ for ‘ tested or tried strength.’ , (21) As we do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us. As we bid the minstrels draw their bows, to give us pleasure. Mercutio calls his sword his “ fiddlestick,?’ in connection with the word “ minstrels,” “Romeo and Juliet,”’ iii. 1. Shakespeare has a similar expression ” D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale.—Art thou sick, or angry ? Claud. What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. Bene. an you charge it against me. another subject. Claud. Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.?* D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry indeed. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, I pray you choose Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.” Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear ? Claud. Heaven bless me from a challenge ! Bene. You are a villain;—I jest not:—I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare-—Do me right,”* or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. Claud. good cheer. D. Pedro. What! a feast? a feast ? Claud. I faith, I thank him; he hath bid® me to a calf’s head and a capon; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught.— Shall I not find a woodcock too 2% Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; easily, D. Pedro. Tl tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: “True,” says she, “a fine little one.” No,” said I, “a great wit:” “Right,” says she, “a great gross one.” “Nay,” said I, “a good wit:” “Just,” said she, “it hurts nobody.” “Nay,” said I, “the gentleman is wise: ” “Certain,” said she, “a wise gentleman.” ”’ “Nay,” said I, “hehath the tongues:’’”8 “That I believe,” said she, “for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday; there’s a double” tongue; there’s two tongues.” Thus did she, an hour together, trans- shape thy particular virtues: yet at last she con- cluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest®” man in Italy. Well, I will meet you, so I may have it goes (22) Broke cross. This speech, and the previous one, allude figuratively to tilting. To “meet in the career”? meant “to encounter at full gallop;’ and it was reckoned a great disgrace to have the lance broken across the body of the opponent, instead of by a thrust with the point. (23) Turn his girdle. This was a phrase used familiarly to express giving a challenge to fight. It arose from the practice of wearing the sword at the back; so that, to bring it round ready for use, the belt or girdle had to be turned or shifted, The belt was fastened in front by a buckle, which, in wrestling, used to be turned behind, to give the adversary a fairer grasp at the girdle; and thus the phrase, as a challenge, had a double origin. _ (24) Dome right. An expression used in duelling and in drinking: in the former it was equivalent to the more modern ‘ give me satis- faction;’ in the latter it meant “pledge me,’ ‘drink foot to foot with me.’ (25) Bid. Used for ‘ invited.’ _, (26) A woodcock. 'This bird being supposed to have no brains, its name became used for a simpleton, one easily caught; and pedi alludes to Benedick’s having been snared by the plot laid or him. (27) A wise gentleman. Probably an ironical term then in use for a pretender to wisdom; as now, a wiseacre. (28) Hath the tongues. Can speak various languages. See Note 3, Act iv., “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” a 252 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [Acr V. Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she cared not. D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly:—the old man’s daughter told us all. Claud. All, all; and, moreover, Heaven saw him when he was hid in the garden. D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head ? Claud. Yea, and text underneath, “Here dwells Benedick the married man? ” Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, Heaven be thanked, hurt not.—My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company: your brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina: you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and till then peace be with hin. [ Hatt. D. Pedro. He is in earnest. Claud. In most profound earnest; and, Dll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee? Claud. Most sincerely. D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose,*! and leaves off his wit! Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.” D. Pedro. But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and be sad!** Did he not say, my brother was fled ? Enter Docprrry, Verces, and the Watch, with ConrADE and Boracuto, Dog. Come, you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance.* Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once,** you must be looked to. D. Pedro. How now! two of my brother’s men bound? Borachio, one? Claud. Hearken after their offence,®§ my lord. (29) Double. Used for ‘deceitful, ‘deluding.’ In this sense it is used when conjoined with ‘dealer’ or ‘dealing ;’ in contradis- tinction to plain, single (in the sense of pure, uncorrupt, simple, as “single-minded ’), direct, straightforward, honest. (30) Properest. Handsomest, comeliest. (31) In his doublet and hose. This phrase seems to have been equivalent to ‘stripping to fight,’ or preparing for combat. In the “Merry Wives,” iii. 1, Page says to Sir Hugh—“ And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw, rheumatic day ?”’ (32) A doctor to sucha man. ‘ Doctor” is here used for ‘a wise man;’ from the Latin doctus, ‘learned,’ ‘instructed.’ The sense of the whole passage seems to be:—‘ When a man dresses himself ridiculously, and divests himself of his intelligence, he is an ape of a large size; but, then, an ape is an intelligent being compared with such a man.’ (33) Pluck up, my heart, and be sad! “Pluck up” was a phrase of the time, applied to the heart or spirits, meaning ‘be aroused,’ “be alert.’ Here Don Pedro seems to say—‘ Cease light talking; let me think seriously.’ (34) Weigh more reasons in her balance. A pun on “ reasons” and ‘raisins;’ which Shakespeare has again elsewhere. The figure of Justice with her scales conveying to the constable the idea of a grocer weighing out plums, is excellently in keeping. (35) Once. Used here for ‘once for all,’ ‘ once and always.’ (36) Hearken after their offence. Shakespeare sometimes uses the Don Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron tnrougn your biood ? Claudio. I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it. Scene T. Scene I.] D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done ? Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false re- port; moreover, they have spoken untruths; second- arily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have ‘verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge. Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own divi- sion ;*” and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.* D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood :*° what’s your offence? Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light ; who, in the night, overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed‘? me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments; how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: “‘m villainy they have upon record; which IT had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood ? Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it. D. Pedro. this ? Bora. of it. D. Pedro. He is treachery :— And fled he is upon this villainy. Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lov’d it first. Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our sexton had reformed“! Signior Leonato of the matter: and, masters, do not forget to specify, when the time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. But did my brother set thee on to Yea; and paid me richly for the practice compos’d and fram’d of word “hearken’”’ in a different sense from merely that of ‘hear,’ or ‘listen.’ In this passage it seems to mean ‘inquire after,’ “endeavour to obtain the knowledge of.’ (37) Division. A technical expression for the parts into which an oration is divided. (38) One meaning well suited. ‘One meaning provided with several suits of apparel;’ in allusion to the way in which Don Pedro has humoured Dogberry’s mode of dressing up the same question in various forms. (39) Too cunning to be understood. “ Cunning” was formerly ea for ‘clever,’ ‘skilful,’ “knowing ;’ from Saxon connan, to ow. (40) Incensed. Incited, instigated. (41) Reformed. Dogberry- uses this for ‘informed,’ as he uses “plaintiffs ’ for ‘ defendants.’ (42) Impose me to. Impose upon me. (43) Possess. Used for ‘put in possession of the knowledge of,’ ‘inform,’ ‘tell.’ (44) Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb. This line, as also the MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 255 Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. Re-enter Lronato and Antonio, with the Sexton. Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, That, es I note another man like him, I may avoid him: which of these is he? Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me. Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed Mine innocent child? Bora. Yea, even I alone. Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself : Here stand a pair of honourable men, A third is fled, that had a hand in it.— I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death : Record it with your high and worthy deeds ; "Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. Claud. 1 know not how to pray your patience ; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not, But in mistaking. D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I: And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he’ll enjoin me to. Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live,— That were impossible: but, I pray you both, Possess*’ the people in Messina here How innocent she died; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,“ And sing it to her bones,—sing it to-night :— To-morrow morning come you to my house; And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that’s dead, And she alone is heir to both of us :% Give her the right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge. Claud. Oh, noble sir! Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me. I do embrace your offer; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. Leon. ‘To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming ; passage in Act iv. se. 1 (“On your family’s old monument hang mournful epitaphs”), alludes to a kindly custom that formerly prevailed. Not only the relations of the dead, but those who revered them, placed these posthumous tributes near their last resting-place. Izaak Walton, in his “Life of Doctor Donne,” records that “‘ The next day after his burial, some one of the many lovers and admirers of his virtue and learning writ this epitaph, with a coal, on the wall over his grave :— ‘Reader! I am to let thee know Donne’s body only lies below: For, could the earth his soul comprise, Earth would be richer than the skies!’ ’”’ (45) She alone is heir to both of us. As Antonio’s son is mentioned, Act i. sc. 2, we imagine this assertion, that the fictitious Hero is the old men’s sole heir, to be equally a fiction ; possibly invented by Leonato, with the instinctive feeling that it would induce mean Master Claudio to accept the proposed match,—which he 256 To-night I take my leave.—This naughty“ man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack’d“ in all this wrong, Hir’d to it by your brother. Bora. No, by my soul, she was not ; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me; But always hath been just and virtuous, In anything that I do know by her. | MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [ ACTye and will lend nothing for Heaven’s sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth ; and I praise Heaven for you. Leon. There’s for thy pains. Dog. Heaven save the foundation !*° Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. Claudio. Attendant. Claudio. Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Dog. Moreover, sir (which indeed is not under white and black), this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in Heaven’s name,—the which he hath used so long, and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, immediately does. eis! (46) Naughty. This word had far greater force formerly than now ; it came from expressing a thing good for naught, worthless, bad, and meant ‘ wicked,’ ‘ evil,’ ‘ corrupt.’ (47) Pack’d. _Joined as a conspirator ; combined as an accomplice. (48) A key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it. The fashion of Poor Claudio, indeed! A truly poor soul Is this the monument of Leonato ? It is, my lord. [Reads from a scroll.) SS Act V. Scene III. Dog. I leave an arrant knave with your worship ; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. Heaven keep your worship! I wish your worship well; Heaven restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, Heaven prohibit®® it.—Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Doaperry, Verces, and Watch. wearing long, dangling love-locks has been explained in Note 49, ae iii.; but Dogberry cannot conceive of a “‘lock’’ without a € vey.” (49) Heaven save the foundation! The usual phrase when alms were received at the gate of religious houses; and, probably, Dog- berry uses “ foundation ’’ for ‘founder,’ (50) Prohibit. For ‘ promote.’ SERENITY TITECTCE TTT CVNTTIT RW wmirewertrTriifiriiicnereeeepeees ie | | a | iA i tiff Li, Mb Yi GLY mt by Claudio. And T’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her; For here’s a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion’d to Beatrice. Act V. Scene IV. 33 i e Ve ° Screnz II.] Deon. Ant. morrow. D. Pedro. Claud. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. Farewell, my lords: we look for you to- We will not fail. To-night Pll mourn with Hero. [Hxeunt Don Pepro and Crauptio. Leon. Bring you these fellows on. We'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd*! fellow. | Hxeunt. SCENE I.—Leonato’s garden. - Enter Benepicx and Marcaret, meeting. Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, de- serve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? Bene. Inso high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. Marg. To have no man come over me! why, shall I always keep below stairs ?? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth,—it catches. Marg. And your’s as blunt as the fencer’s foils, - which hit, but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers.™ Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.—Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. Bene. And therefore will come. [Hait Marearer. The god of love,*4 [ Singing. That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve,— I mean in singing ; but in loving,—Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of brokers, and a whole bookfull of these quondam carpet-mongers,™ whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse,—why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; L have tried: I can find (51) Lewd. Idle, ignorant, wicked. (52) Shall I always et eae stairs? From the apparent dis- crepancy in the first and last portions of this speech, some editors imagine that a word has been omitted; but the waiting-woman seems to mean—Shall I always remain on the kitchen story? Shall I never be promoted to having a man woo me with his love- lies?’ To “come over” is a phrase still in vulgar use for ‘ beguile,’ * deceive,’ ‘ delude.’ (53) I give thee the bucklers. A phrase borrowed from sword and buckler practice: and, passing into current use, meant ‘I yield,’ *T own myself defeated.’ (54) The god of love, &c. song of the time. ; (55) Quondam carpet-mongers. “ Quondam”’ is a word (generally used jocosely) for ‘having formerly existed.’ “* Carpet-mongers”’ has been said to have the same signification as ‘carpet knights ;’ that is, knights who have received knighthood on a carpet, in times This was the commencement of an old a ee EER eal rr MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 259 out no rhyme to “lady ” but “baby,”—an innocent rhyme; for “scorn,” “horn,’—a hard rhyme ; for “school,” “ fool,’—a babbling rhyme ; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor [ cannot woo in festival terms.*®— Enter Brarricnr. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee ? Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. Bene. Oh, stay but till then ! Beat. “Then” is spoken; fare you well now :— and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; there- fore I will depart unkissed. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will sub- scribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? Beat. For them all together ; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me ? Bene. “Suffer love,’—a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession: there’s not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance,’ Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. Ifa man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you ? Bene. Question :*°—why, an hour in clamour, and # quarter in rheum: therefore is it most of peace, by mere court favour. But, by “ carpet-mongers,”’ Bene- dick rather seems to mean those who are lovers of ease, frequenters of carpets, kneeling or lying—perhaps both, kneeling and telling lies—at ladies’ feet. (56) Festival terms. Fine language; phraseology fit for a grand occasion. “Festival terms’? here is like “ epeets holiday’’ in “Merry Wives.” See Note 10, Act iii. of that play. (57) An old instance. Shakespeare sometimes uses the word “instance ”’ for maxim or proverbial saying. (58) In the time of good neighbours. In the time when good fellowship and neighbourly feeling prevailed; when men would give credit to each other for their respective merits. (59) Question. Into this single word is colloquially condensed: “That is your question—now comes my answer.’ (60) Rhewm. Shakespeare uses this word variously: here, and peer rere, for the aqueous matter from the lachrymal glands, ears. i ke aces ei 260 expedient for the wise (if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary) to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your cousin P Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursvuta. Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder’s old coil® at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently ? Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior ? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thine eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle’s. [| Exeunt. SCENE III.—The inside of a church. Enter Don PEprRo, Cuaunpio, and Attendants, with music and tapers. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? Atten. It is, my lord. Claud. [Reads from a scroll. | “ Done to death® by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies: Death, in guerdon® of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that died with shame, Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, LAppeeding it; as EPITAPH. Praising her when I am dumb.” Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Sone. Pardon, goddess of the night, _ Those that slew ay virgin knight ; * For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan ; Help us to sigh and groan, (61) Old coil. “Old’’ signifies abundant, excessive; “coil’”’ means confus‘on, bustle, uproar, noise, tumult. In Act iii., sc. 3, we have:—“‘ The wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night.” See Note 23, Acti., “Two Gentlemen of Verona ;’’ and Note 56, Act i., “ Merry Wives.” (62) Done to death. An old form of ‘put to death ;’ originating, probably, in the French idiom, faire mourir. (63) Guerdon. Recompense, compensation. (64) Knight. Applied to maidens as well as to men, by poetical writers formerly ; probably in its meaning of disciple or follower, as vowed to Diana the virgin goddess, who was addicted to the knightly sport of the chase. (65) Heavily, heavily. This is the reading of the Quarto here: which is given in the Folio, ‘ Heavenly, heavenly.’ But it appears to us that “ Heavily, heavily” is a repeated burthen to the song. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [Act VY. Heavily, heavily: Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily.® Claud. Now, unto thy bones good nighti— Yearly will I do this rite. D. Pedro. Good morrow, master; put your torches out: The wolves have prey’d; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Pheebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters: each his several way. D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds ; And then to Leonato’s we will go. Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Than this, for whom we render’d up this woe. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.—A room in Lronato’s house. Enter Leronato, Antonio, Brnepick, BEATRICE, Marearet,® Ursuna, Friar Francis, and Hero. F. Fran. Leon. her Upon the error that you heard debated : But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enfore’d To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. ee Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask’d. The prince and Claudio promis’d by this hour To visit me.—You know your office, brother: You must be father to your brother’s daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [ Hxeunt Ladies. Did I not tell you she was innocent ? So are the prince and Claudio, who aceus’d Ant. Which I will do with confirm’d counten- ance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. F’. Fran. To do what, signior ? (66) Margaret. In all the old copies, this character makes her appearance here; though most modern editors omit her name from the list of those who now enter. But she has been acquitted of having willingly participated in the plot against her mistress’s honour and peace, therefore the poet allowed her to take her place as usual by her lady’s side in the last scene of the play. That she is spoken of in the third person by Leonato does not prove her absence any more than the Friar’s saying of Hero, “ Did I not tell you she was innocent?’ proves Hero to be absent. The train of ladies seem to enter on the stage somewhat by themselves; as is shown by Leonato’s addressing them specially, after speaking with the gentlemen around him, in the words—‘‘ Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,” &e. (67) All things sort so well. See Note 30, Act iv. Scene IV.] Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them.— ‘ Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me From Claudio, and the prince: but what’s your will? Bene. Your answer, sir; is enigmatical : But, for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d In the state of honourable marriage :— In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. Leon. My heart is with your liking. F. Fran. And my help.— Here come the prince and Claudio. Enter Don Pepro and Craupio, with Attendants. D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio : We here attend you. Are you yet determin’d To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter ? Claud. Il hold my mind, were she an Ethiop. Leon. Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready. [Hait ANTONIO. D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ? Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull.— Tush, fear not, man; we'll tip thy horns with old, And BH Raropa shall rejoice at thee ; As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. Which is the lady I must seize upon ? Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.® Claud. Why, then she’s mine.—Sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar : I am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I liv’d, I was your other wife : [ Unmasking. And when you lov’d, you were my other husband. (68) We here attend you. “ Attend” was sometimes used in the sense of ‘await,’ ‘expect ;’ French, attendre. (69) I do give you her. This speech is wrongly assigned in the old copies to Leonato; and Theobald first showed that it belongs to Antonio, who has just promised to perform the part of “father” to Hero, and “ give her to young Claudio,”’ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 261 Claud. Another Hero! Hero. Nothing certainer: One Hero died defiled; but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid. D. Pedro. The former Hero! dead ! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv’d. F. Fran. All this amazement can I qualify : Whenafter” that the holy rites are ended, Pll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death : Meantime, let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, friar.—Which is Beatrice ? Beat. [Unmasking.| I answer to that name. What is your will? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat. Why, no; no more than reason. Bene. Why, then, your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio Have been deceivéd ; for they swore you did. Beat. Do not you love me? Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason. Beat. Why, then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceiv’d; for they did swear you did. Hero that is Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me. Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. *Tis no such matter.—Then, you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman, Claud. And Ill be sworn upon’t that he loves her; For here’s a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion’d to Beatrice. Hero. And here’s another, Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. Bene. A miracle! here’s our own hands against our hearts.—Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. Beat. 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 in a con- sumption. Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth.” [Kissing her. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man ? Bene. Tl tell thee what, prince; a college of wit=crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram ? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since Cerner An old form of ‘when;’ like ‘ whenas,’ ‘when- ever,’ &c, (71) I will stop your mouth. This speech is also assigned to Leonato in the old copies; one of the many manifestly misprinted prefixes to be foynd there. See Note 11, Act ii. 262 I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy” thing, and this is my conclusion.—For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have de- nied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer ;” which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends.—Let’s have (72) Giddy. Used for fickle, variable, inconstant, un- stable. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ) [Acr V. a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives’ heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterward. Bene. First, of my word; therefore, play, music! —Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight, And brought with arméd men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: Tl devise thee brave punishments for him.—Strike up, pipers ! [Dance. Hxeunt. A terra for those who were false to their (73) A dowble-dealer. See Note 20, Act v. vows in love or marriage. DRAMATIS PERSON —— Ferpinanp, King of Navarre. Brron, LoNGAVILLE, { Lords attending on the King. Dumatn, Boyet, Lords attending on the Princess of MERCADE, } France. Don AprIAno pE Armano, a fantastical Spaniard. Str NarnwanicEt, a Curate. Ho.orernes, a Schoolmaster. Dutt, a Constable. Costarp, a Clown. Morn, Page to Armado. A Forester. Princess of France. RosaLineE, Maria, | aa attending on the Princess. KATHARINE, JaqueNeETTA, a country Wench. Lords and others, attendants on the King and Princess. Scene—Navarre. ‘ LOVE'S _LABOUR’S LOST. aCe 1. SCENE 1—A park, with a palace in it. Enter the Kine, Brron,? Loneavitn, and Dumarn. King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live register’d upon our brazen tombs,® And then grace us in the disgrace of death ; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th’ endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge, And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors,—for so you are, That war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world’s desires,— Our late edict shall strongly stand in force: Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three, Birén, Dumain, and Longaville, Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me, (1) The first known copy of this play is one published in quarto, 1598; the title being as follows:—‘A pleasant Comedie called Love’s labor’s lost. As it was presented before her Highness this last Christmas. Newly corrected and augmented. By W. Shakespeare. Imprinted at London by W. W., for Cuthbert Burby.” It stands seventh in the Folio 1623; whose order of succession for the plays, by-the-by, we follow in the present edition. The words “newly corrected and augmented,” in the 1598 Quarto, give support to a belief we entertain that this play was one of Shakespeare’s very early productions; one of those which we mentioned in our first note to “The Two Gentlemen of Verona” as being, according to our theory, already sketched out, if not actually written down, when he first went up to London in 1586. Like the “Two Gentlemen,” the “Love’s Labour”’ has a perfect air of youth about it; it “smells April and May.” The story is a mere thread to string pearls of graceful love-making upon; the characters are purely elegant,—more personages than characters, —the leading ones pleasing, gay-mannered, accom- plished; the subordinate ones odd, grotesque; while the wit and diction have just that touch of stiffness and elaboration which mark the first efforts of a youthful writer. We have always fancied this play the product of Shakespeare’s student imagi- nation, fresh from the schools, the introduction to images of social refinement in books, and the awaking admiration of polish among high-bred men and women in the world, as he dreamed them to exist, judging from these perused models. It has been thought that Shakespeare either borrowed his plot from the Italian stage 34 My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes That are recorded in this schedule here : Your oaths are pass’d: and now subscribe your names, That his own hand may strike his honour down That violates the smallest branch herein : If you are arm’d to do, as sworn to do, Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.‘ Long. I am resolv’d; *tis but a three years’ fast : The mind shall banquet, though the body pine: Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits. Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified : The grosser manner of these world’s delights He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves : To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die ; With all these living in philosophy.’ Biron. I can but say their protestation over; So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, That is, to live and study here three years. or from some French romance: the titles of “ Braggart”’ (given in the Folio to Armado) and “ Pedant” (given in the Folio to Holo- fernes) making for the former idea, because these characters figured in the old Italian drama; while the names of the king, princess, lords, and ladies make for the latter theory. But it is probable that Shakespeare had met with some translated French story or play, which had its source from Italian origin; as most of the French plots of that day (witness, among others, many of the productions of Moliére) were directly derived from the old Italian comedies. (2) Biron. This name is spelt in the old copies ‘ Berowne,’ to signify that it was to have the accent on the last syllable, in accordance with French accentuation, and to give something like the way in which it was to be pronounced: which (from a couplet in Act iv., sc. 3, where the name rhymes with “moon ”) seems to have been ‘ Biroon.’ (3) Brazen tombs. Here, and elsewhere, Shakespeare alludes to the custom of ornamenting the tombs of renowned people with plates of brass bearing figures or inscriptions commemorative of their worthy deeds. (4) Your deep oaths, and keep it too. Instance of Shakespeare’s use of a pronoun in reference to an implied particular. Here, “it”’ refers not to “‘oaths,’ but to ‘that which you have vowed to do.’ (5) With all these living in hapeh ye Dumain speaks of himself in the third person, and then in the first; declaring that he will henceforth be dead to worldly love, wealth, and pomp, while living with them as they exist (ungrossly) in philosophy. eee 266 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. But there are other strict observances : As, not to see a woman in that term,— Which I hope well is not enrolléd there ; And one day in a week to touch no food, And but one meal on every day beside,— The which I hope is not enrolléd there ; And then, to sleep but three hours in the night, And not be seen to wink of all the day (When I was wont to think no harm all night, And make a dark night too of half the day),— Which I hope well is not enrolléd there: Oh, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,— Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep! King. Your oath is pass’d to pass away from these. Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please : I only swore to study with your grace, And stay here in your court for three years’ space. Long. You swore to that, Birdn, and to the rest. Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.— What is the end of study? let me know. King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know. Biron. Things hid and barr’d, you mean, from common sense ? King. Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense. Biron. Come on, then; I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus,—to study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid ;° Or study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid; Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth. If study’s gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know: Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say no. King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight. Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas’d, doth inherit pain : As, painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth; while Doth falsely’ blind the eyesight of his look : Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile : So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. while truth the (6) To feast expressly am forbid. ‘ Feast” is misprinted ‘fast’ in the Folio. (7) Falsely. Used here for treacherously, insidiously. (8) Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed. “‘Heed’’ seems to be here used inthe sense of beacon, loadstar, or guiding light; and the sense of the whole passage to be—‘ Whoever dazzles himself thus (by fixing his eye upon one more beautiful,—a woman’s), shall have that eye for his beacon to afford him light after having temporarily deprived him of sight. (9) Too much to know, is to know, &c. To know overmuch is not to be wise, but to get the name of being wise ; and every godfather (like “these earthly godfathers’’ that name the stars) can give a man a name for wisdom. (10) Proceeded well, to stop, &c. Dumain puns on the word [Acr I. Study me how to please the eye indeed, By fixing it upon a fairer eye ; Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,* And give him light that it was blinded by. Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun, That will not be deep-search’d with saucy looks: Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others’ books. These earthly godfathers of heaven’s lights, That give a name to every fixéd star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame ;° And every godfather can give a name. King. How well he’s read, to reason against reading ! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good pro- ceeding ! 1° Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding. Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a-breeding. Dum. How follows that? Biron. Fit in his place and time. Dum. In reason nothing. Biron. Something, then, in rhyme. King. Birén is like an envious sneaping” frost, That bites the first-born infants of the spring. Biron. Well, say lam; why should proud summer boast, Before the birds have any cause to sing ? Why should I joy in an abortive birth ? At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows ;” But like of each thing that in season grows. So you, to study now it is too late, Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate. King. Well, sit you out:% go home, Birén: adieu. Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you: And though I have for barbarism spoke more Than for that angel knowledge you can say, Yet confident I’ll keep to what I swore,“ And bide the penance of each three years’ day. Give me the paper,—let me read the same ; And to the strict’st decrees I'll write my name. King. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame ! Biron. [ Reads. ] Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court—Hath this been proclaimed ? Tong. Four days ago. “proceeded ;’’» which is an academical term for taking a de- gree. (11) Sneaping. Nipping, checking. (12) Shows. This has been said to have reference to the May games and pageants; but we take the passage to mean— At Christmas I no more desire a rose, than I wish snow amidst the newly decked-out floral displays of spring.’ (13) Sit you out. Misprinted in the Folio ‘fit you out;’ but the f and the long s were often mistaken the one for the other, and ‘to sit out’ is an expression used at games of cards for taking no part in the play. (14) Keep to what I swore. In the Folio this is given “keepe what I have sworne;’ but the rhyme requires “swore ” at the end of the line, and probably the line ran as above. $$ See eee Scene I.] Biron. Let’s see the penalty.—[ Reads] on pain of losing her tongue.—Who devised this penalty ? Long. Marry, that did I. Biron. Sweet lord, and why ? Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty. Biron. A dangerous law against gentility !} [ Reads. } Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.— This article, my liege, yourself must break ; For well you know, here comes in embassy The French king’s daughter with yourself to speak,— A maid of grace and cémplete majesty,— About surrender-up of Aquitain To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father: Therefore this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes th’ admiréd princess hither. King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot. Biron. So study evermore is overshot: While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should ; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, *Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost. King. We must of force dispense with this decree ; She must lie here!’ on mere necessity. Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years’ space ; For every man with his affects!” is born, Not by might master’d, but by special grace : If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, I am forsworn on mere necessity.— So to the laws at large I write my name: [Subscribes. And he that breaks them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternal shame: Suggestions are to others, as to me; But I believe, although I seem so loath, T am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick” recreation granted ? King. Ay, that there is. Our court, you know is haunted With a refinéd traveller of Spain ; A man in all the world’s new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain ; __ 15) A dangerous law against gentility! The old copies print this line as though it made part of Longaville’s speech; but it is evidently Biron’s comment before he proceeds to read the next item. “Gentility” is here used in the sense of refinement, amenity, elegance, courtesy; all of which are induced by the presence and influence of women. (16) She must lie here. To “lie”? was sometimes used for lodge, dwell, reside, take up abode. Sir Henry Wootton availed himself of the double meaning of this expression, in his witty definition— 1 ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of his country.” (17) Affects. _ Used here for affections, inclinations, propensities. (18) Suggestions. Temptations, incitements. (19) Quick. Lively, animated. (20) Complements. Accomplishments : proficiency in punctilio and ceremonious observances; things that, in such a man’s esti- mation, mark the finished gentleman. Points included in what enede himself calls, in the next scene, “ the varnish of a complete (21) Hight. An old word for called, named. _ (22) Use him for my minstrelsy. ‘Use him for my entertainment my minstrels entertaining their hearers by the relation of wonderful stories, as well as by their music. LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 267 One, whom the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony ; A man of complements,” whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny : This child of fancy, that Armado hight,”! For interim to our studies, shall relate, In high-born words, the worth of many a knight From tawny Spain, lost in the world’s debate. How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; But, I protest, I love to hear him lie, And I will use him for my minstrelsy.” Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight,” A man of fire-new™ words, fashion’s own knight. Long. Costard the swain, and he, shall be our sport ; And, so to study, three years is but short. Enter Dux with a letter, and Costarp. Dull. Which is the duke’s own person ? Biron. This, fellow: what wouldst ? Dull. I myself reprehend® his own person, for Tam his grace’s tharborough:* but I would see his own person in flesh and blood. Biron. This is he. Dull. Signior Arm— Arm—commends_ you. There’s villainy abroad: this letter will tell you more. Cost. ing me. King. A letter from the magnificent Armado. Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in heaven for high words. Long. A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience! Biron. To hear? or forbear laughing ?” Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh mode- rately ; or to forbear both. Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness.*° Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.*! Biron. In what manner ? Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all those three: I was seen with her in the manor- Sir, the contempts”™ thereof are as touch- (23) Wight. An old word for person or personage. : (24) Fire-new. This expression, like ‘bran-new’ (a corruption of ‘ brand-new’), originated in a reference to the forge or melting- house; fresh from its heat; newly-coined or smelted metal being especially bright. (25) Reprehend. For ‘ represent.’ ‘ (26) Tharborough. A corruption of ‘thirdborough ; constable, or peace-officer. (27) Contempts. For ‘ contents.’ 7 (28) A low heaven. “ Heaven,’’ here, has been altered to ‘having,’ and to ‘hearing;’ but the original word seems used to mark the speaker's sense of Biron’s extreme form of aspiration. (29) Laughing? Misprinted ‘hearing’ in the Folio; but Longa- ville’s rejoinder shows “laughing’’ (Capell’s correction) to be the right word. ‘ (30) To climb in the merriness. ‘To rise higher and higher, or increase, in our mirth;’ the word “climb” is used as a pun upon the word “style,’’ or ‘ stile.’ (31) Taken with the manner. A legal form of expression for ‘taken in the fact.’ Costard quibbles on the word “manner’’ (spelt in the old law-books ‘mainour;’ meaning the article stolen then in the thief’s possession) and the “ manor-house’”’ mentioned in his next speech. > an under- a ae | 268 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park; which, put together, is in manner and form following. Now, sir, for the manner,—it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman: for the form,—in some form. Biron. For the following, sir ? Cost. As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend the right ! King. Will you hear this letter with attention ? Biron. As we would hear an oracle. Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. King. [ Reads. | Great deputy, the welkin’s® vicegerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul’s earth’s god, and body’s fostering patron,— Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. King. [Reads.] So it is,— Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so. King. Peace! Cost. —hbe to me, and every man that dares not fight ! King. No words! Cost. —of other men’s secrets, I beseech you. King. [ Reads. So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time when? About the sixth hour; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper: so much for the time when. Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped* thy park. Then for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest: but to the place where,—it standeth north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden:** there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base minnow *® of thy mirth,— Cost. Me. King. [Reads] —that unlettered small-knowing soul,— Cost. Me. King. [ Reads ]|—that shallow vassal,37— Cost. Still me. King. {Reads]—which, as I remember, hight Costard,— Cost. Oh, me. King. [Reads |— sortea and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, with—with,— oh, with—but with this I passion to say ** wherewith,— Cost. With a wench. King. [ Reads | —with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I— as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on—have sent to thee, to receive the meed*? of punishment, by thy sweet grace’s officer, Antony Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and esti- mation. Dull. Me, an’t shall please you: I am Antony Dull. King : [ Reads. | For Jaquenetta,—so is the weaker vessel called, which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain,—I keep her as a vessel of thy law’s fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty, Don ADRIANO DE ARMADO. (82) The welkin’s. ‘The sky’s.’ See Note 11, Act i., “Tempest.” (33) But so. Equivalent to the more modern ‘but so-so.’ (34) Yeleped. Called; the past tense of the verb ‘ to clepe,’ from the Saxon clypian, to call. . " (35) Curious-knotted garden. Ancient gardens were laid out in fantastically shaped ‘ knots,’ figures, or flower-beds; formed with ines intersecting each other in various directions. (36) Minnow. This, one of the smallest of fish, is used by Shakespeare here, and in “Coriolanus,” iii. 1, as a type of insig- nificance. “Minnow of thy mirth” means the despicably minute object whom you deign to make a source of amusement. (37) That shallow vassal. A pun seems to be intended on the word “shallow,” in its sense of undeep, unprofound, and its sense eee [Acre Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard. King. Ay, the best for the worst.—But, sirrah, what say you to this? Cost. Sir, I-confess the wench. King. Did you hear the proclamation ? Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it. King. It was proclaimed a year’s imprisonment, to be taken with a wench. Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damosel. King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel. Cost. This was no damosel neither, sir; she was a@ virgin, King. virgin. Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid. King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir. Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week with bran and water. Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge. king. _And Don Armado shall be your keeper.— My Lord Birén, see him deliver’d o’er :— And go we, lords, to put in practice that Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. [Eveunt Kine, Loneavitue, and Dumaiy. Biron. Tl lay my head to any good man’s hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.— Sirrah, come on. Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for truth it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and, therefore, Welcome the sour cup of pros- perity! Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, Sit thee down, sorrow ! * [ Hxeunt. It is so varied too; for it was proclaimed SCENE II.—Another part of the park. Before ArMADO’s house. Enter Anrmapo and Morn. Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy ? Moth. (18) Katharine. In the Folio this name is here misprinted ‘Rosaline;’ as, a little farther on, “ Rosaline’”’ is misprinted ‘Katharine,’ evident transpositions of the printer. Not only do the gentlemen interested in the respective ladies inquire after their particular fair one, recognising them in spite of their wearing 276 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. [Acr IIIf Boyet. Iwas as willing to grapple as he was to | His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,” board. Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; Mar. Two hot sheeps,! marry. All senses to that sense did make their repair, Boyet. And wherefore not ships ? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest ? Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. [Offering to kiss her. Mar. Not so, gentle beast : My lips are no common, though several they be.” Boyet. Belonging to whom ? Mar. To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles,”! agree : This civil war of wits were much better us’d On Navarre and his bookmen; for here ’tis abus’d. Boyet. If my observation,—which very seldom les,— By the heart’s still rhetoric discloséd with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. Prin. With what ? Boyet. With that which we lovers affected. Prin. Your reason ? Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough” desire: His heart, like an agate, with your print impress’d,” Proud with his form, in his eye pride express’d : entitle, To feel only looking on fairest of fair. Methought all his senses were lock’d in his eye, As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ; Who, tend’ring their own worth from where they were glass’d, Did point you to buy them, along as you pass’d: His face’s own margent*> did quote such amazes, That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. Pll give you Aquitain, and all that is his, An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos’d.” Boyet. But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclos’d : I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie. Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak’st skilfully. Mar. He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches ? Mar. No. AQT SCENE l.—Another part of the park. Before Armavo’s house. Enter AnmMavo and Morn. Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing. Moth. [Singing.] Concolinel\— masks, but the word “ Alencon”’ in this speech tallies with what Katharine says previously:—“I saw him at the Duke Alencon’s once.” (19) Two hot sheeps. A play on the words “sheeps’’ and ‘ships ;”’ provincially pronounced alike. See Note 9, Acti., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.”’ (20) No common, though several they be. There is a pun on the words “common” and “several” here. ‘Common’? is played on in its sense of ‘common land,’ and of ‘being common property;’ while “several” is played on in its sense of ‘a portion of land set apart from common land for more exclusive use,’ and in its sense of ‘that which may be severed or separated,’ and ‘more than one.’ (21) Gentles. Shakespeare uses this word as more modern diction uses ‘ gentle folk,’ persons of good birth and good breeding. (22) Thorough. Sometimes used for ‘through ;’ as “throughly” was for ‘thoroughly.’ (23) Like an agate, with your print impress’d. It was the fashion to engrave or sculpture figures on agates. (24) To speak and not see. This passage has been pronounced by the commentators to be “extremely odd;”’ but if we take “not see’ to imply ‘ not see, because it is not the tongue’s faculty tosee,’ the sentence means that his tongue hurried to his eyes that it might express what they beheld. Boyet. What, then, do you see? Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet. You are too hard for me. [| Hxeunt. Let Arm. Sweet air!—Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately? hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love. Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl ?° Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in French? (25) His face’s own margent. It was the custom to print notes, quotations, &c., in the margin (or “margent,”’ as it was then spelt) of books. (26) Dispos’d.. This word was used by Shakespeare, and writers of his time, to express ‘inclined to be too free in talk,’ ‘inclined to unseemly merriment.’ The princess, rebuking Boyet’s freedom of speech, uses the word in this sense; but the old courtier parries the reproof, by taking the word in its more simple and ordinary acceptation, and framing his rejoinder accordingly. (1) Concolinel. This has been conjectured to be probably the - beginning or name of an old song usually sung by the boy who performed Moth; it being frequently the way to leave still more indefinitely the song to be introduced in a play—merely inserting the Latin word cantant, or the words ‘Here they sing.’ But we think that “Concolinel” may have been merely a few syllables strung together to express warbling, or humming a tune, as we now use ‘la li ra, la lira,’ &e. (2) Festinately. Hastily, speedily. Latin, festinato. (3) Brawl. he name of a dance, wherein the dancers held hands, and swayed or moved to and fro, from the French branle, movement. £i Sa FSS SELLE VSN Yd Drawn by J. MCL. RALSTON. Engraved by J. QUARTLEY. ARMADO AND COSTARD. Armado. Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta ; there is remuneration. “Love's Lasour’s Lost,” Act Z/I., Scene J. 10 et Se. ~ Ss Y HE os LE rrr (ee He to my court. conduct me thither. ? Act II. Scene madam > then ; rn Wi WAU hall be welcome, I will be welcome, 3 a King. Yo Princess. ’ apes any Scenz I.] Moth. No, my complete‘ master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue’s end, canary® to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; sigh a note and sing a note,—sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love,—some- time through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse like, o’er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin body’s doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are complements,® these are humours ; these betray nice wenches,—that would be betrayed without these ; and make them men of note (do you note,—men ?)—that most are affected to these. Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience? Moth. By my penny’ of observation. Arm. But oh,—but oh,— Moth. —the hobby-horse is forgot.’ Arm. Callest thou my love hobby-horse ? Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love ? / Arm. Almost I had! Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart. Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy. Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove. Arm. What wilt thou prove? Moth. A man, if I live;—and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her ; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot obtain her. Arm. Iam all these three. Moth. And three times as much more,—and yet nothing at all. Arm. Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter. Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be embassador for an ass. Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou ? Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. (4) Complete. Here, as elsewhere, used for accomplished. (5) Canary. The name of a sprightly dance, sometimes accom- panied by castanets, and supposed to have derived its name from the Canary Islands, where it was much in favour. (6) Complements. Accomplishments ; niceties which are the completion of excellence. See Note 20, Act i., and Note 4, Act iii. (7) Penny. Sometimes used formerly to express an indefinite sum. See Note 12, Act i., “ Merry Wives of Windsor.” (8) The hobby-horse is forgot. Armado sighing forth, “But oh,— but oh,’’ Moth follows it up by adding the remainder of a line of a song, probably written when the hobby-horse was omitted from india ae at ae ap anes s the Bee which was their St_step in doing their utmost to suppress these popular sports. See Note 28, Act iti., “ Much Ado stodt Nothing?” ni - (9) Minimé. Not in the least, by no means. _ (10) Swift. Moth plays on the word in its sense of “ready- witted,’ and in its sense of ‘rash,’ ‘hasty’ (11) Welkin. The sky; the region of air. (12) Gives thee place. This seems to have been an idiom tanta- mount to ‘gives thee warrant,’ ‘forms thine excuse.’ Armado’s Spanish grandiloquence and courtesy—praying leave to sigh in the sky’s face, and saying that his valour will warrant this rudeness of his melancholy—although deteriorated by affectation, smacks strongly of Don Quixote’s lofty style in amenities of this kind. Any connecting link between those large-minded thinkers, Shake- speare and Cervantes, is pleasant; and although strict accuracy LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 279 Arm. 'The way is but short: away! Moth. As swift as lead, sir. Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ? Moth. Minimé,® honest master; or rather, mas- ter, no. Arm. I say, lead is slow. Moth. You are too swift,'® sir, to say so: Is that lead slow which is fir’d from a gun ? Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that’s he:— I shoot thee at the swain. Moth. Thump, then, and I flee. [ Hvzit. Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace !|— By thy favour, sweet welkin,! I must sigh in thy face :— Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.!2— My herald is return’d. Re-enter Motu with Costrarp. Moth. A wonder, master! here’s a Costard'* broken in a shin. Arm. Some enigma, some riddle; come,— thy Venvoy ;4“—begin. Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l’envoy; no salve in them all,’ sir: oh, sir, plantain, a plain plantain ! no Venvoy, no lenvoy ; no salve, sir, but a plantain! !6 Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen: the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling,—oh, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for Venvoy, and the word l’envoy for a salve? Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not Venvoy a salve? 8 Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue, or discourse, to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.” I will example it: The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. There’s the moral. Now the l’envoy. Moth. I will add the envoy. Say the moral again. prevents our still saying they died on the same day, yet they wrote and benefited the world at the same period. (18) Costard. A name for the head; which supplies the pun that Moth calls “a wonder.” , (14) L’envoy. A term used in old French poetry for certain con- cluding verses which served to point the application of the story, or addressed it to the reader, or to some special person. The term was adopted in ancient English poems. p F (15) No salve in them all. The Folio misprints this ‘no salve, in thee male sir.’ This has been given by some editors, altering ‘thee’ to ‘the,’ and explained to mean ‘no salve in the bag, or trunk ;’ but we adopt Tyrrwhitt’s reading, which seems to accord with what follows of Costard’s taking enigma, riddle, and l’ envoy to be various kinds of salve. : ; (16) Plantain. A herb, the healing properties of which were highly esteemed; and it was reckoned a sovereign cure for wounds. (17) Spleen. Believed to be the seat of immoderate mirth, as well as of its opposites—melancholy and anger. , (18) Is not Venvoy a salve? After the others have been using the word “‘salve,’’ in its sense of ‘unguent,’ Moth puns upon it, in its sense as a Latin form of salutation. The latter is pronounced differently (salvé); but as the words are spelt alike, it is quite enough for Master Moth’s love of quibbling. (19) Sain. An old form of ‘said;’ here used for the sake of rhyme. LOVE’S 280 The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. Moth. Until the goose came out of door, And stay’d the odds by adding four.” Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l’envoy. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four. Moth. A good l’envoy, ending in the goose: would you desire more ? Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain,*! a goose, that’s flat.— Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.— To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose : Let me see—a fat l’envoy ; ay, that’s a fat goose. Arm. Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin ? Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then call’d you for the l’envoy. Cost. True, and I for a plantain: thus came your argument in ; Then the boy’s fat U’envoy, the goose that you bought ; And he ended the market.” Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin ? Moth. I will tell you sensibly.* Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak that V’envoy : I Costard, running out, that was safely within, Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise * thee. Cost. Oh, marry me to one Frances :—I smell some l’envoy, some goose, in this. Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound. Cost. True, true; and now you will be my pur- gation, and let me loose. Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance ; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing Arm. Arm. (20) Four. Here used for ‘a fourth,’ to make the rhyme. (21) Sold him a bargain. “‘Sold’’ was, and is still, a slang expres- sion for being made a dupe of, made a fool of. See Note 9, Act iii., ‘Comedy of Errors.’’ (22) And he ended the market. An allusion to the old proverb, ‘Three women and a goose make a market.’ (23) Sensibly. Moth uses this word in its usual accevtation of plainly, simply, with good sense; meaning that he will tell how Costard broke his shin, without punning on the words. But Costard takes “sensibly ” in the signification it sometimes bore of ‘ feel- ingly,’ ‘sensitively,’ and replies with a quibble. (24) Enfranchise. Costard, not being able to make out the mean- ing of this word, fancies it involves a promise of giving him in marriage to some girl of the name of “Frances.” It has been sug- gested that “sirrah” (spelt ‘sirra’ in the Folio) is a misprint for marry, which would make Costard’s misconception still more evident; but we think that as the passage stands, his blundering interpretation of a word he does not comprehend into a threat of pee him into the bonds of matrimony, instead of giving him his reedom, is quite in character, and sufficient to suggest to the lout’s mind a suspicion of some trap, “some V’envoy, some goose.” (25) Significant. The magniloquent Armado uses this word for Sian as that which is to signify his mind to the person he esses. LABOUR’S LOST. [Act ITI. but this [giving a letter] :—bear this significant® to the country maid Jaquenetta. [Giving money.] There is remuneration ; for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependents.—Moth, follow. [Hzit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.**°—Signior Costard, adieu. Cost. My sweet ounce of man’s flesh! my incony Jew |77— | Hait Morn. Now will I look to his remuneration. Remunera- tion! Oh, that’s the Latin word for three far- things: three farthings,—remuneration.—< What’s the price of this inkle? ”**—* A penny.”—“No, Pll give you a remuneration: ” why, it carries it.2®— Remuneration !—why, itis a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word. Enter Brron. Biron. Oh, my good knave Costard!*® exceed- ingly well met. Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation riband may a man buy for a remuneration ? Biron. What is a remuneration ? Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing. Biron. Oh, why, then, three-farthings-worth of silk. Cost. I thank your worship: God be wi’ you! Biron. Oh, stay, slave ; I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. Cost. When would you have it done, sir ? Biron. Oh, this afternoon. Cost. ' Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well, Biron. Oh, thou knowest not what it is. Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning. Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark! slave, it is but this :— The princess comes to hunt here in the park, And in her train there is a gentle lady ; When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal’d-up counsel. [Gives him money.] There’s thy guerdon ; go. (26) Like the sequel, I. “Sequel” is here used in its sense as derived from the Latin word sequela ; one of the meanings of which is ‘a train, or retinue of followers.’ Moth fleers at his master’s train of attendants consisting in a single page—his diminutive self. There is a similar allusion in “'The Merry Wives of Windsor.” See Note 50, Acti., of that play. (27) My incony Jew! “Incony,’’ as appears from various passages where it occurs in the old dramatists, seems to mean dainty, deli- cate, delectable. Its derivation is uncertain; though some have thought that it has analogy with our North British word “ canny,” which means neat, nice, gentle, mild, knowing. “Jew’’ is here, and once elsewhere, used by Shakespeare as a term of endearment} and it strikes us that it may have been a corruption of the French fondling words ‘ chouza,’ ‘ chou-chou,’ or ‘jowjou;’ the latter meaning a plaything; or possibly an abbreviation of bijou, jewel. (28) Inkle. A kind of tape. This was well given by Steele asa name for the narrow-souled hero in his tale of “ Inkle and Yarico”’ (Spectator, vol. i., No. 11). (29) It carries it. An idiomatic expression, used by Shakespeare, meaning something similar to the familiar phrase, ‘ It carries the day!’ ‘It surpasses, it transcends.’ (30) Oh, my good knave Costard! “ Knave”’ was Ene often “oe een for boy or lad. See Note 46, Act iii., “ Merry Wives of indsor.”’ Scene I.| Oost. Gardon,?!—Oh, sweet gardon! better than remuneration: eleven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon!—I will do it, sir, in print.**—Gardon —remuneration. [ Exit. Biron. Oh,—and I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love’s whip ; A very beadle to a humorous® sigh ; A critic, nay, a night-watch constable ; A domineering pedant o’er the boy, Than whom no mortal so magnificent ! This wimpled,** whining, purblind, wayward boy ; This senior-junior,® giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid ; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, Th’ anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Sole imperator® and great general Of trotting paritors :*7—Oh, my little heart !— LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 281 And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop ! What! Ilove! I sue! I seek a wife! A woman, that is like a German clock,“ Still a-repairing ; ever out of frame ; #! And never going aright, being a watch, But being watch’d that it may still go right ! Nay, to be perjur’d, which is worst of all ; And, among three, to love the worst of all; A whitely* wanton with a velvet brow, With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes ; And I to sigh for her! to watch for her! To pray for her! Go to;* it is a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect Of his almighty dreadful little might. Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan: Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.“ [ Hxit. SCENE I.—Another part of the park. Enter the Princess, Rosatinr, Marra, KarHarine, Boyt, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester. (31) Gardon. Costard’s mispronunciation of “ guerdon;” which means reward, recompence. Old French, guerdon. ; (32) In print. An idiom of the time, signifying exactly, precisely, unctually, faithfully, accurately, literally ; as we now say, ‘ to the etter” See Note 16, Act ii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.’’ a (33) Hwmorous. Shakespeare uses this word with various signi- fications; he here employs it to signify full of amorous fancies, assionate imaginings; as he puts the word “ humours’’ into ercutio’s mouth, by way of bantering appellation for his be- witched friend: “Romeo! hwmours! madman! passion! lover!”’ “ Romeo and Juliet,’’ ii. 1. (34) Wimpled. A wimple was strictly a covering for the throat, or for the head and throat, such as was worn by nuns; but the word was also used for a veil or hood. Here Shakespeare uses ““wimpled”’ as ‘ veiled;’ Cupid’s eyes being represented as covered or bandaged. (35) This senior-junior. Misprinted in the Folio, ‘this signior Junios ;’ the italics and the title ‘signior’ making it look as if it were a proper name, in the extremely misleading way of many similar typographical mistakes in that volume. But the words that follow—* giant-dwarf ’—show such compound word of anti- thetical meaning to have been intended by the poet; as he else- where has these sequences of contradictory epithets (for instance, “dove-feather’d raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!” ‘‘ Romeo and Juliet,” iii. 2. Moreover, “senior-junior’’ precisely tallies with the description of Cupid in Act v. sc. 2 of the present play, where he is said to have “been five thousand years a boy.’ Theobald had the correction suggested to him, but hesitated to adopt it, which Johnson afterwards did; and he has been followed by most subse- quent editors. (36) Imperator. Commander, (37) Trotting paritors. A “paritor,” or apparitor, was an officer of spiritual courts, employed to carry out citations; and as these citations were generally served upon offenders against the laws of love-propriety, Biron states “paritors’’ to be under Cupid’s com- mand, The epithet “trotting’’ is graphically appropriate to those whose duty it is to carry and serve summonses hither and thither ; moreover, “ trotting paritors ” includes the idea of the whole tribe of busy-bodies, go-betweens, match-makers, letter-carriers, billet- oe, frequently employed in love-affairs to summon refractory earts. _ (88) Corporal of his fala: A ‘corporal of the field’ was an officer similar in grade and duty to what is now called an aide-de-camp ; who is employed in carrying to and fro the orders of the general, or other of the higher officers of the field. CLT le.Ve Prin. Was that the king,! that spurr’d his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill ? Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he. (39) Wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop. There is a treble allu- sion here: to wearing the uniform or badge of a leader; to the then fashion among young gallants of wearing their mistress’s favourite colour as a favour, as a token of vowing themselves to her service, and as manifesting their allegiance to her; and to the custom of tumblers in decorating their hoops with bright-coloured ribbons. (40) A German clock. There is more than one allusion in the elder dramatists to the intricate machinery of German clocks (at that time first imported into England), as affording illustration of women’s elaborate ‘making-up,’ frequently being ‘out of sorts,’ and constantly requiring to be ‘put to rights.’ (41) Out of frame. ere used for ‘out of order.’ See Note 15, Act iv., “ Much Ado about Nothing.” (42) Whitely. This word (misprinted ‘whitly’ in the Folio) has been proposed to be altered to ‘ witty’ by some editors, who think “whitely ’’ inapplicable to a dark beauty; which, from many passages in the play, we find Rosaline to be. But “ whitely”’ appears to us the very epithet for Biron to use, when—unwilling to allow her to be fair—he involuntarily expresses the effect of a brilliant complexion looking almost white—certainly, dazzling—in contrast with her black eye-brows, eye-lashes, and hair. (43) Go to. An idiomatic expression, like the Italian via, and the French allons : it has various meanings; but here it is, ‘ Well, well,’ or ‘ Even so.’ (44) Joan. Shakespeare uses this name, here and elsewhere, to prercas the ordinary run of women, the commoner sort of woman- kind, (1) Was that the king, &c. This is just one of those touches that Shakespeare throws in, to mark the way in which a woman un- consciously betrays her erreae preference for a man who loves her. The Princess recognises the horseman, though he is at such a distance that her attendant lord is unable to distinguish whether it be the king or not; and then she immediately covers her self- betrayal, by the pretendedly indifferent words, “ Whoe’er he was,” &c. Shakespeare in no one of his wondrous and numerous instances of insight into the human heart more marvellously manifests his magic power of perception, than in his discernment of the workings of female nature; its delicacies, its subtleties, its reticences, its revelations, its innocent reserves, and its artless con- fessions. He, of all masculine writers, was most truly feminine in his knowledge of what passes within a woman’s heart, and the multiform ways in which it expresses itself through a woman’s acts, words, manner—nay, even her very silence. He knew the 36 282 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Prin. Whoe’er he was, he showed a mounting mind, Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch :? On Saturday we will return to France.— Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush That we must stand and play the murderer in ? For. Hereby, upon the hedge of yonder coppice ; A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.® Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoot. For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say no? Oh, short-liv’d pride! Not fair? alack for woe ! For. Yes, madam, fair. Prin. Nay, never paint me now: Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass,* take this for telling true: [Giving him money. Fair payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. Prin. See, see! my beauty will be sav’d by merit. Oh, heresy in fair,® fit for these days ! A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.— But come, the bow :—now mercy goes to kill, And shooting well is then accounted ill. Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t ; Tf wounding, then it was to show my skill, That more for praise than purpose meant to kill. And, out of question, so it is sometimes,— Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, When, for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart ; As I for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curst® wives hold that self- sovereignty Only for praise’ sake, when they strive to be Lords o’er their lords? eloquence of a look, the significance of a gesture, the interpretation of a tacit admission ; and moreover, knew how to convey them in his might of expression by ingenious inference. Such remarks as these have never hitherto been thought to come within the province of an annotator; but from the nature of our notes—which we have made, as much as our given space would allow, an interesting commentary upon each play as it proceeds—we have included many points worthy of observation, in beauties of character, of style, and of dramatic construction, as well as points to be explained in difficulties of diction or allusion. (2) To-day we shall have owr despatch. Here is one of the means whereby Shakespeare times his dramas. In the first scene of the 2nd Act, Boyet says “the packet is not come,’ and promises that “to-morrow ” the king shall have a sight of its contents; now, the fact that “‘ to-morrow’ is arrived is verified by the words, “to-day we shall have our despatch,’—the “packet’”’ in question; thus giving us the time at which the 4th Act opens. (3) A stand where you, &c. See Note 26, Act v., “ Merry Wives of Windsor.” (4) Good my glass. The Princess calls the Forester her “ glass”’ because he represents her faithfully. (5) Oh, heresy in fair. “‘ Fair’’ is here, as often elsewhere, used substantively for ‘ beauty.’ (6) Curst. Shrewish. See Note 1, Act ii., “Much Ado about Nothing.’ ‘“Self-sovereignty’’ here means sovereignty vested in self, not exercised over self. (7) Here comes a member of the commonwealth. This line has been given by many editors to the Princess; but it seems quite as natu- rally to belong to Boyet, to whom it is assigned in the Folio. The old courtier calls Costard “a member of the commonwealth ” because he is a commoner, one of the common herd; and because he belongs to the consociation formed by the king “ to keep those [Acr IV. Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord. Boyet. Here comes a member of the common- wealth.” Enter Costar. Cost. God dig-you-den® all! Pray you, which is the head lady ? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ? Prin. The thickest and the tallest. Cost. The thickest and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth. An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here. Prin. What’s your will, sir? what’s your will? Cost. I have a letter from Monsieur Birén to one Lady Rosaline. Prin. Oh, thy letter, thy letter! he’s a good friend of mine : Stand aside, good bearer.—Boyet, you can carve ; Break up this capon.?® Boyet. Iam bound to serve.— This letter is mistook, it importeth none here ; It is writ to Jaquenetta. Prin. We will read it, I swear. Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. [ Reads. ]—py heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible ; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate! King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon;!! and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomise in the vulgar,—oh, base and obscure vulgar !—videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he come? to see: why did he see? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What saw he? the beggar. Whom overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king’s. The captive is enriched: on whose side ? the beggar’s. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? the king’s,—no, on both in one, or one in both. Iam the king; for so statutes recorded in this schedule,’ mentioned at the opening of the play. (8) God dig-you-den. even.’ (9) Break wp this capon. To “break up’’ was a technicality in carving, when applied to fowls; and also a technicality in opening letters, as appears from various passages in our old English drama- tists. A “capon”’ was a term for a love-letter ; as poulet, with the French, was a term for a billet-douw. The occasion of these names is said, by some authorities, to be the fashion of secretly conveying notes of gallantry in fowls sent as presents; by others (French explainers of the word), to be the manner of folding these amorous epistles ; which was to twist them into two points resembling the wings of achicken. That it was an old French term, thus equivo- cally used, we have evidence in passages of Moliére, and in anec- dotes from the history of Henry IV. of France (one of which is that the king’s sister, Catherine, said to La Varenne, who had been her cook before being governor of Anjou, “ You have gained much more by carrying my brother’s pullets than by larding mine’’); and that it is a modern term still used in France, wefind from seeing packets of French stationery labelled ‘Poulet batonné, meaning ‘Ruled Note-paper.’ It is possible that the analogy between pullets and notes originally arose from the Italian word pollizzetta ; which meant a little letter, note, or billet, and which sounded like pollicetta, a young fowl or pullet. (10) Illustrate. Sometimes used by writers of Shakespeare’s time for ‘illustrious.’ q (11) Zenelophon. This name is thus printed in the Folio, though it is printed in the version of the ballad alluded to in Note 51, Acti., ‘Penelophon,’ and though some say that the latter sounds more like the name of a woman. But Armado may have thought that though Penelophon is like Penelope, a Grecian woman’s name, A corruption of ‘God give you good Scent I.] stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? Iwill. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. —Thine, in the dearest design of industry, Don ADRIANO DE ARMADO. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar ’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey. Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ? Food for his rage, re-pasture for his den. Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter ? What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better ? Boyet. I am much deceiv’d but I remember the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile.!” Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps’ here in court; A phantasm, a Monarcho,' and one that makes sport To the prince and his bookmates. Prin. Thou fellow, a word : Who gave thee this letter? Cost. I told you; my lord. Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it? Cost. From my lord to my lady. Prin. From which lord to which lady ? Cost. From my Lord Birén, a good master of mine, To a lady of France that he call’d Rosaline. Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter.—Come, lords, away.— [Zo Ros.] Here, sweet, put up this: *twill be thine another day. [Hxeunt Princess and train. Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor? '® Ros. Shall I teach you to know? Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.” Ros. Why, she that bears the bow. Finely put off! Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on! Ros. Well, then, I am the shooter. Boyet. And who is your deer ? *Zenelophon” is more like what he conceives an Afri r- pees should be: and the scene of the end ee ree a, rica. - (12) Going o’er it erewhile. The Princess puns on ce a and ‘stile’ (See Note 30, Acti.); and “ érewhile 2 erie oe ‘ * quite lately,’ ‘a short time ago.’ z (13) Keeps. Used here, and elsewhere, in the sense of dwells, remains, resides. (14) A phantasm, a Monarcho. “Phantasm” is here used in the sense of ‘fantastic.’ “Monarcho” was the name of an Italian, a Bergamasco, known about the court, whose craze it was to fancy himself king of the world; he is mentioned by other writers at that time. (15) *Twill be thine another day. The Princess gives Rosaline the letter to keep; adding that it will become hers by being exchanged for her own some day, when hers will come in its turn. (16) Who isthe suitor? “ Suitor” was pronounced like ‘shooter ;’ which affords the pun here. (17) Continent of beauty. Boyet’s whimsical way of calling Rosaline a container of beauty, instead of a possessor of beauty: and of inferring that she has as large a share as would compose a hemisphere. (18) Queen Guinever. Wife to King Arthur. Her story is made LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 283 Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come not near. Finely put on, indeed! Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow. Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now? Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it ? Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinever !* of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it? fos. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,!9 Thou canst not hit it, my good man. Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can. | Hxeunt Ros. and Karn. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant : how both did fit it! Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it. Boyet. A mark! Oh, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady! Mar. Wide © the bow-hand!” 7 faith, your hand is out. Cost. Indeed, ’a must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er hit the clout.*! She’s too hard for you at this, sir: challenge her to bowl. Boyet. I fear too much rubbing.” my good owl. [Hxeunt Borer and Marta. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! Lord, lord, how the ladies and I have put him down! O’ my troth, most sweet jests! most incony * vulgar wit ! When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. Armatho* o’ the one side,—oh, a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan! To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly ’a will swear! And his page o’ t’ other side, that handful of wit! Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical® nit! [Shouting within.| Sola, sola!” [ Hait Costarp, running. Good night, familiar to readers of the present day in Tennyson’s beautiful “Tdylls of the King.” / (i9) Hit it. There was an old song, or dance, of this name. (20) Wide o’ the bow-hand. A term in archery fora shot too much to the left of the mark. 2 f (21) The clout. The white mark at which archers took aim. (22) Rubbing. A term of the bowling-green, for impediments in the course of the bowl. Boyet plays on the word in its sense of snubbing, meeting with checks or rough retorts, in the course of his rallying-bout with Maria. 3 (33) Presoly: Here this word, meaning delectable, delightful, seems to have still more direct analogy with the word “canny” in its sense of ‘knowing,’ as derived from the Saxon cumnan, to know. See Note 27, Act iii. a i (24) Armatho. Costard’s mispronunciation of Armado. In this passage, the clown seems to revert ponderingly to Armado’s and Moth’s cleverness in talk, as the school in which he has lately taken a lesson, thus enabling him on the present occasion to join the ladies in “ putting down ” Boyet. (25) Pathetical. Originally did not, as now, mean calculated to inspire pity or grief; but meant powerfully moving, passionately eloquent. : ; i (26) Sola, sola! Shakespeare uses this to express shouting in 284 SCENE Il.—Another part of the park. Enter Hotorrernss, Str NarHanrez, and Dut. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience. Hol. The deer was, as you know, sangwis,—in blood ;*7 ripe as a pomewater,*® who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cwlo,—the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra,—the soil, the land, the earth. Nath. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.” Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.*° Dull. ’Twas not a haud credo ; ’twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, i via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,—after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or, rather, unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed* fashion, —to insert again my haud credo for a deer. Dull. I said the deer was not a haud credo; ’twas a pricket. Hol. Twice-sod* simplicity, bis coctus ! Oh, thou monster Ignorance, how deforméd dost thou look ! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts : And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be— Which we of taste and feeling are—for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.** For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, So, were there a patch set on learning,* to see him in a school : But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father’s mind,— Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. excitement. Costard hears the noise of the hunters, and runs to join them and see the sport. (27) In blood. A term of the chase; signifying in season, in good condition, fit for killing. (28) Pomewater. A then favourite kind of apple. (29) A buck of the first head. Here, and in the course of the scene, the deer is called by the various distinctive names that it then bore in the language of the chase; and these are enumerated in a play entitled “'The Return from Parnassus,” 1606, as follow :— “A buck is the first year, a fawn; the second year, a pricket; the third year, a sorel; the fourth year, a sore; the fifth year, a buck of the first head; the sixth year, a complete buck.” _ (30) Haud credo. The pedagogue rejoins in Latin—‘I don’t be- lieve so;’ which Dull mistakes for one of the terms expressive of the deer’s age. It is a perfect exemplification of pedantry (as defined by Sydney Smith to be “an ostentatious obtrusion of knowledge, in which those who hear us cannot sympathise”), Holofernes using sentences which it is impossible Dull can under- stand, and then despising him for misinterpreting them. (31) Unconfirmed. Ignorant, unskilled, unproficient. See Note 45, Act iii., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (32) Twice-sod. “Sod” is a form of ‘sodden,’ or ‘seethed,’ the preterite of ‘to seethe.’ The application of seethed, boiled, cooked, to stupidity, probably originated in the antithesis (with similitude of oe between the two Latin words doctus, learned, and coctus, seethed. (33) More than he. ‘More than in him.’ This license is here taken for the sake of rhyme. (34) A patch set on learning. ‘ Patch” is here used in its sense of a ee ee LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. [Acr IV. Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell by your wit What was a month old at Cain’s birth, that’s not five weeks old as yet ? Hol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, good- man Dull. Dull. What is Dictynna ? Nath, A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. Hol. The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, And raught not*® to five weeks when he came to fivescore. The allusion holds in the exchange.*7 Dull. *Tis true indeed ; the collusion holds in the exchange. Hol. Lord comfort thy capacity! allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. And I say, the pollusion®® holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside, that *twas a pricket that the princess killed. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have called the deer the princess killed, a pricket. Nath. Perge,®® good Master Holofernes, perge ; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.” Hol. I will something affect the letter,! for it argues facility. I say, the The preyful princess‘ pierc’d and prick’d a pretty pleasing pricket ; Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell: put 1 to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket; Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting. If sore be sore, then 1 to sore makes fifty sores: oh, sore 1! 43 Of one sore I a hundred make, by adding but one more 1. Nath. —Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather, as Horace says in his [sees the writing wn the letter ]— What, my soul, verses ? Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse: lege, domine.** (45) Ventricle. Stomach. The ancients had a theory that the stomach was the seat of the intellect. (46) Pia mater. A thin and delicate membrane which lies under re. dura mater, and immediately covers the substance of the rai. c (47) Mehercle. A form of mehercule, or mehercules; a Latin excla- mation, meaning “By Hercules,’ or ‘So help me, Hercules.’ _ (48) Vir sapit qui qe loquitur. ‘That man knows much (or is wise) who speaks little.’ << (49) Master person. ‘Parson’ was often spelt and pronounced person; and, indeed, the title is derived from the Latin, persona ecclesie. ~« cc pe) Quast pers-on. “ Quasi’? means ‘as it were,’ or ‘almost.’ Pers-on is a stiff and very forced play on the word, in allusion to the pronunciation (which was then not uncommon) of “ pierce”’ like perse, and “ one” like ‘on.’ (51) Fauste, precor gelidad, &c. This is the beginning of a Latin eclogue by Baptista Spagnolus, surnamed Mantuanus, from the place of his birth. The pedants of that time preferred his writings to those of Virgil; and Holofernes quotes this line from his first eclogue as a favourite poem. (52) Venegia, Venegia, 4c. This Italian proverb, in honour of Venice, was well known in Shakespeare’s time. LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 287 Nath. [Reads. | If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love P Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll faithful prove ; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend: If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice ; Well learnéd is that tongue that well can thee commend ; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder,— Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire: Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, oh, pardon love this wrong, That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue. Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. [Takes the letter.| Here are only numbers ratified ; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret.> Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? IJmitari*® is nothing : so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the *tired horse®” his rider.—But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Nath. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen’s lords.** Hol. I will overglance the superscript: [reads] To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. T will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: [reads | Yovr ladyship’s in all desired employment, Brron. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent” of the stranger queen’s, which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.—Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king: it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment ; I forgive thy duty: adieu. Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save your life ! Cost. Have with thee, my girl. [ Hxeunt Cost. and Jaq. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously ; and, as a certain father saith— Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear (53) Ut, re. sol, la, mi, fa. Shakespeare makes Holofernes hum the notes of the musical scale, or gamut, to denote his impatience while Sir Nathaniel reads over the letter to himself. d (54) Lege, domine. ‘ Read, sir.’ Holofernes here addresses Sir Nathaniel by his clerical title. See Note 2, Acti. “Merry Wives. (55) Caret. It se wanting, it is not here. 56) Imitari. To imitate. 2 te) The ’tired horse. The horse attired or decked out with trappings; the horse ornamented and trained for exhibition. _ (58) Ay, sir, from one, fc. This speech is, in the Folio, assigned to Jaquenetta; and also by subsequent editors given to her, though they own that they cannot make its import accord with her having previously said that the letter was sent to her from Don Armado. But it is evident that the speech belongs to Sir Nathaniel, who replies for Jaquenetta, though she is addressed. In the first place, he usually begins his speeches to Holofernes with “Ay, sir; and in the next, Holofernes sets the mistake respecting Biron right by the words—“ Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king;’’ showing who it is that has made the mistake of asserting that Biron is “one of the strange queen’s lords.” Moreover, many of the prefixes throughout this scene, in the Folio, are obviously misappropriated. (59) A sequent. A follower. 288 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. colourable colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel ? Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. Hol. I do dine to-day at the father’s of a certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto;® where I will prove those verses® to be very unlearned, neither Holofernes. What, my soul, verses ? Sir Nathaniel. Ay, sir, and very learned. savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society. Nath. And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life. Hol. And, certes,® the text most infallibly con- cludes it. [To Dutx.] Sir, I do invite you too; you (60) I do fear colourable colowrs. A proverbial phrase of the time (borrowed from the military profession) was, ‘Fear no colours ak and Holofernes alludes to it here, owning that he does mistrust appearances that wear a show of plausibility. (61) Ben venuto. Welcome. (62) I will prove those verses, fc. The pedantic schoolmaster’s eagerness to depreciate the lines of another, while seizing every peerage spout his own and get them belauded, is not only characteristic, but_is a satire on one of the glaring follies of that time, also pungently held up to ridicule by Moliére in those admir- able scenes of his “‘ Misanthrope,” “Femmes Savantes,” and “ Pré- cteuses Ridicules ;”” where Oronte, Trissotin, and Mascarille, each in their several styles of conceit, remind one of Holofernes’ itch to [Acr IV. shall not say me nay: pauca verba.* Away! the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recrea- tion. [| Ewxeunt. SCENE III.—Another part of the park. inter Biron, with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am Act IV. Scene II. coursing myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch®—pitch that defiles: defile! a foul word. Well, Sit thee down, sorrow!® for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: well bring forward his verse-compositions. The finishing touch to the pedant’s absurdity is given in his desire to have even Dull among his audience: “ Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not say me nay.” In his fever to show off, even Dull is welcome, to swell the company of admiring listeners. (63) Certes. Certainly, assuredly. (64) Paueca verba. Few words. i (65) Iam toiling in a pitch. Biron plays on the word “ pitch,” as a snare or entanglement; declaring that he is “ defiled,” or degraded by falling into that snare (love) which he had always contemned. (66) Sit thee down, sorrow! See Note 40, Acti. | Speer (67) It kills sheep. Alluding to the account of Ajax: who, in his mad rage at having the arms of the dead hero, Hector, adjudged to Scene III] proved again o’ my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; (faith, I will not. Oh, but her eye,—by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melan- choly; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in.**—Here comes one with a paper: Heaven give him grace to groan! [Gets wp into a tree. Enter the Kine, with a paper. King. Ah me! Biron. ([Aside.] Shot, by heaven !—Proceed, sweet Cupid: thou hast thumped him with thy bird- bolt under the left pap.—In faith, secrets ! King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The dew of night that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; Thou shin’st in:every tear that I do weep: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief will show: But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. Oh, queen of queens! how far thou dost excel, No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. How shall she know my griefs? Tl drop the paper : Sweet leaves, shade folly—Who is he comes here ? [Steps aside. [Aside.] What, Longaville! and reading ! listen, ear. Biron. {Aside.| Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear ! Enter Loneavitye, with a paper. Long. Ah me, I am forsworn! Biron. {Aside.| Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers !7° King. (Aside.| In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame! Biron. (Aside.| One drunkard loves another of the name. Long. Am I the first that have been perjur’d so? Ulysses instead of to himself, slew a whole flock of sheep in mistake for the sons of Atreus; they having pronounced for Ulysses. (68) If the other three were in. Again alluding to the snare into which he himself has fallen, and into which he could wish his three consociates might fall. (69) Bird-bolt. See Note 7, Act i., “Much Ado about Nothing.” ; (70) Like a perjure, wearing papers. “ Perjure’’ is an old form of perjurer ;’ and it was the penalty for one convicted of perjury to wear papers on the breast, describing the offence. (71) Shape of Love’s Tyburn. The gallows at Tyburn was of tri- angular form. (72) Guards. Trimmings, facings, ornaments. See Note 21, Act iii., ““ Measure for Measure.” (73) Disfigure not his slop. The Folio gives ‘shop’ (altered by some editors to ‘shape’) for “slop,” which accords best with “hose” in the preceding line. See Note 25, Act iii., “ Much Ad about Nothing.” as oe 37 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 289 Biron. [Aside.| I could put thee in comfort,— not by two that I know: Thou mak’st the triumviry, society, The shape of Love’s Tyburn™ that hangs up sim- plicity. Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move :— Oh, sweet Maria, empress of my love !— These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. Biron. [Aside.] Oh, rhymes are guards” on wanton Cupid’s hose : Disfigure not his slop.” Long. This same shall go.— the corner-cap of [ Reads. Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,— °Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,— Persuade my heart to this false perjury ? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore ; but I will prove, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love ; Thy grace being gain’d cures all disgrace in me. Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhal’st this vapour-vow ; in thee it is: If broken, then, it is no fault of mine: If by me broke, what fool is not so wise, To lose an oath, to win a paradise ? Biron. ([Aside.] This is the liver vein,” which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. Heav’n amend us, Heav’n amend! we are much out o’ the way. Long. By whom shall I send this?—Company ! stay. [Steps aside. Biron. ([Aside.] All hid, all hid,” an old infant play. Like a denicel here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye. More sacks to the mill!7* Oh, heavens, I have my wish ! Enter Dumain, with a paper. Dumain transform’d! four woodcocks” in a dish ! Dum. Oh, most divine Kate ! Biron. [Aside.] Oh, most profane coxcomb ! Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye ! Biron. [Aside.] By earth, she is not: corporal, there you lie.® Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted.79 Biron. [Aside.] An amber-colour’d raven was well noted. (74) This is the liver vein. See Note 7, Act iv., “Tempest.” (75) All hid, all hid. ‘Fhe ehild’s game now known as ‘ hide-and- seek.’ (76) More sacks to the mill. The name of a boyish sport; where there is a heaping up of players. ' (77) Four woodcocks. ‘‘ Woodcock” was used for a_ brainless fellow. See Note 26, Act v., “ Much Ado about Nothing.”’ ' (78) By earth, she is not: corporal, &c. ‘This has been altered in stopping, and in changing “not’’ to ‘ but,’ by those who find the passage, as it stands, difficult of comprehension. But, to our think- ing, it may be thus interpreted: Biron contradicts Dumain in his assertion that Katharine is “the wonder of a mortal eye;” and styles him “corporal,” as he has before called himself a “ corporal of his (Love’s) field,” and in allusion to his being “ mortal,” material, or corporeal,—for which latter word Shakespeare often uses “ corporal.’ fi (79) Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted. “Coted”’ is here 290 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. Dum. As upright as the cedar. Biron. [Aside. | Stoop, I say; Her shoulder is with child. Dum. As fair as day. Biron. [Aside.] Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. Dum. Oh, that I had my wish! Long. {Aside.] And I had mine! King. [Aside.| And I mine too, good lord! Biron. {Aside.] Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word ? Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember’d be. Biron. {Aside.] A fever in your blood! why, then incision Would let her out in saucers :*° sweet misprision ! Dum. Once more [ll read the ode that I have writ. Biron. [Aside.] Once more [ll mark how love can vary wit. Dum. [| Reads.] On a day—alack the day !— Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air; Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen ’*gan passage find ; That the lover, sick to death, Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; Air, would I might triumph so! But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn ;— Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee ; Thou, for whom Jove* would swear Juno but an Ethiop were ; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. This will I send, and something else more plain, That shall express my true love’s fasting® pain. Oh, would the king, Birén, and Longaville, Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a perjur’d note ; For none offend where all alike do dote. Long. ([Advancing.| Duamain, thy love is far from charity, That in love’s grief desir’st society : You may look pale, but [ should blush, I know, To be o’erheard and taken napping so. used in its sense of gone side by side with, surpassed, outvied; and in its sense of quoted (often thus pronounced), observed, marked, noted. Thus Dumain means that in the varied shades of colour and clouded beauty of amber, his mistress’s hair surpasses it; and that in comparison with her hair, amber may be cited as ugly. (80) Incision would let her out in saucers. “‘Incision’’ is (strictly) cutting as in surgery; but Shakespeare here, and elsewhere, uses it for “blood-letting.” It was a fashion for young gallants to wound themselves in the arm, as a proof of devotion, that they might toast their lady’s name, or write it, in the liquor that owed. (81) Thou, for whom Jove. “Thou”? (as printed in the old copies) has been sometimes changed to ‘ Thee,’ as an emphatic repetition of the final word of the preceding line; but the change is not needful. _ (82) Fasting. Used in the sense of famishing, hungering, long- ing, desirous. (83) Wreathéd arms. Crossed arms, folded arms. The same ex- pression occurs in “ The Two Gentlemen of Verona,” Act ii., sc. 1, [Acr IV. King. [Advancing.] Come, sir, you blush: as his your case is such; You chide at him, offending twice as much: You do not love Maria; Longaville Did never sonnet for her sake compile, Nor never lay his wreathéd arms* athwart His loving bosom, to keep down his heart! I have been closely shrouded in this bush, And mark’d you both, and for you both did blush: I heard your guilty rhymes, obsery’d your fashion, Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion: Ah me! says one; Oh Jove! the other cries ; One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other’s eyes: [To Lone.] You would for paradise break faith and troth ; [To Dum.] And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. What will Birén say when that he shall hear Faith infringéd, which such zeal did swear ? How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit! How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it! For all the wealth that ever I did see, I would not have him know so much by me. Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. [Descends from the tree. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me! Good heart! what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These worms* for loving, that are most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches ;* in your tears There is no certain princess that appears ; You'll not be perjur’d, ’tis a hateful thing ; Tush! none but minstrels like of sonneting : But are you not asham’d? nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot ? You found his mote; the king your mote did see ; But I a beam do find in each of three. Oh, what a scene of foolery have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen ! °° Oh me, with what strict patience have I sat, To see a king transforméd to a gnat ;%7 To see great Hercules whipping a gig,*® And profound Solomon tuning a jig, And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, And Critic Timon® laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief, oh, tell me, good Dumain ? And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege’s? all about the breast :— A caudle, ho! : where Speed tells his master that he has “learned to ‘wreathe his arms like a mal-content.” i (84) These worms. Biron uses this epithet here for human beings submitting to their mortal destiny of falling in love, as Prospero uses it when he sees his daughter yield to her fascination for Ferdinand :—*‘ Poor worm! thou art infected.” i (85) Your eyes do make no coaches. Bironalludes to the line in the king’s sonnet, “ No drop but as a coach doth carry thee.”’ The Folio misprints ‘ couches’ for “ coaches” here. (86) Teen. Grief, trouble. See Note 19, Act i., “ Tempest.” (87) Gnat. Used here, and elsewhere, by Shakespeare, to express something extra small and insignificant. (88) Gig. A kind of top, made of horn; like a cup, and hollow. (89) Critic Timon. “ Critic’’ is here used in the sense of ‘ cynic;’ as Biron has previously used the same word for a harsh censor, a rigorous reviewer, where he says he has been “‘a very beadle to a humorous sigh; a critic, nay, a night-watch constable.” The term originally meant a judger, an examiner; one who discerned and Scene III] King. Too bitter is thy jest. Are we betray’d thus to thy over-view ? Biron. Not you to me, but I betray’d by ou: I, that ae honest; I, that hold it sin To break the vow I am engagéd in ; Tam betray’d, by keeping company With men, like men,* of strange inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for Joan ?®! or spend a minute’s time In pruning me?” When shall you hear that I Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, A gait, a state,” a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb ? | King. Soft! whither away so fast? A true man, or a thief, that gallops so? Biron. I post from love ; good lover, let me go. Enter Jaqurnetta, with letter, and Costvarn. Jaq. God bless the king ! King. What present hast thou there ?® Cost. Some certain treason. King. What makes treason here ?% Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. : If it mar nothing neither, The treason and you go in peace away together. Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read : Our person’? misdoubts it; it was treason, he said. King. Biron, read it over.—[Brron takes the letter from JAQUENETTA. | Where hadst thou it ? Jaq. Of Costard. King. Where hadst thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. [Brron tears the letter. King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it ? Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace needs not fear it. Long. Tt did move him to passion, and therefore let’s hear it. Dum. [Picking up the pieces.| writing, and here is his name. It is Birdn’s pronounced on the beauties as well as defects of a literary work ; but in the proneness of men to find fault, the word soon came to signify almost wholly a discoverer of blemishes and blamer of demerits. (90) With men, like men. This has been variously changed to ‘moon-like men,’ ‘ vane-like men,’ &c.; but the passage, as it stands, appears to us to mean— with men, like men (men in general, or mankind), of strange inconstancy.’ The first Folio omits the word “strange ;” which was supplied in the second, 1632. (91) Groan for Joan? 'This has been altered to ‘ groan for love ;’ but besides that we lose the jocular effect of the chiming sound between “groan” and “ Joan,’ it has been already pointed out that Shakespeare uses “ Joan’’ to represent the ordinary race of woman- kind. See Note 44, Act iii. (92) Pruning me. Arranging myself, setting myself in order, making myself spruce; as a bird trims and smooths out his feathers. _ (93) A state. The word “ state” here seems to include the mean- ing of stationary position, dignity and grace while standing still, and stature. a. LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 291 Biron. [To Cosrarp.] Ah, you loggerhead ! you were born to do me shame.— Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess. King. What? Biron. That you three fools lack’d me, fool, to make up the mess :°8 He, he, and you,—and you, my liege,—and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. Oh, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. Dum. Now the number is even. Biron. True, true; we are four.— Will these turtles be gone ? King. Hence, sirs; away ! Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [ Hxeunt Costard and JAQUENETTA. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, oh, let us embrace ! As true we are as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face ; Young biood doth not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we were born ; Therefore, of all hands *® must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine ? Biron. Did they, quoth'® you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty ? King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir’d thee now ? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; She an attending star, scarce seen a light. Biron. My eyes are, then, no eyes, nor I Biron: Oh, but for my love, day would turn to night ! Of all complexions the cull’d sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek ; Where several worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. (94) A true man, or a thief. See Note 40, Act ii., “Much Ado about Nothing.”’ ” (95) What present hast thou there? The word “ present’’ here has been changed to ‘ peasant’ and to ‘ presentment.’ But “ present’ is here used in the sense (which it bears in legal language) of a letter or mandate exhibited per presentes (by these presents). Shakespeare has introduced this very law phrase in “ As You Like It,” i. 2:—“ Be it known unto all men by these presents.” (96) What makes treason here? What does treason do here? See Note 26, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” . (97) Our person. See Note 49, Act iv. (98) Mess. As at great festive dinners the company was usually divided into fours, called messes, and served together, the word came to mean a set of four persons. fl (99) Of all hands. This idiomatic phrase has been explained to have the same signification as ‘in any hand;’ that is, in any case, at any rate, at all events. But inasmuch as “of” was often used for ‘on,’ the phrase seems to us to mean ‘ on.all hands,’ on all sides, on every account. } (100) Quoth. Said. Gothic, quithan, to say. 292 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,— Fie, painted rhetoric! oh, she needs it not: To things of sale a seller’s praise belongs,— She passes praise ; then praise too short doth blot. A wither’d hermit, five-score winters worn, Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, And gives the crutch the cradle’s infancy : Oh, tis the sun that maketh all things shine. King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. Biron. Is ebony like her? Oh, wood divine! A wife of such wood were felicity. Oh, who can give an oath? where is a book ? That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, If that she learn not of her eye to look: No face is fair that is not full so black. King. Oh, paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the scowl! of night ! And beauty’s crest!” becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. Oh, if in black my lady’s brows be deckt, It mourns that painting and usurping hair! Should ravish doters with a false aspéct ! And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days, For native blood is counted painting now ; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Paints itself black,'** to imitate her brow. Dum. To look like her are chimney - sweepers black. Long. And since her time are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colours should be wash’d away. King. "Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, Tl find a fairer face not wash’d to-day. (101) Scowl. Misprinted ‘schoole’ in the Folio. ‘ Stole,’ ‘shade,’ ‘soil,’ have been proposed; but “ scowl”? (Warburton’s suggestion, adopted by Theobald) seems best, as ne&rest to the word given in the old copy. (102) Lene crest. A poetic equivalent for ‘fairness;’ as the opposite to “ black,’’ in the previous line. “ Crest’’ is used in con- formity with “ badge ;”? both being heraldic terms. (103) Usurping hair. Alluding to the false hair then fashionably worn. See Note 53, Act iii., “Much Ado about Nothing.’ (104) Paints itself black. ‘Black’? was often used for what we now call ‘dark.’ ‘These recurring allusions to Rosaline’s being a dark-complexioned beauty, and the emphatic eulogium passed upon brunette charms in this play, consist markedly with the praises lavished on a black-haired and black-eyed beauty in Shakespeare’s Sonnets, 127 and 132; and it is possible that the passages thus dis- tinguished in “‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost’ were inserted at a subsequent period to its first composition. There are several indications that this drama was a re-written one, re-touched and altered, as if its author, when producing it on the stage, modified certain passages ; and this makes for our opinion, that it was originally written at an early period of his life, and brought out in London some years afterwards. 1598 is the date of the first Quarto copy published, Shakespeare then being about thirty-four years of age; and it strikes us that that was probably the period when the poet was enthralled by the dark beauty of the “‘ Sonnets,’’ whose unworthi- ness he deprecates at the very time that he extols her attractions. (105) Quillets. The word “ quillet*’ is supposed to have been derived from the Latin quidlibet, ‘what you please;’ or perhaps from ‘ quibblet’ as the diminutive of ‘quibble ;’ or possibly was a corruption of the French Qu’il est, ‘ that it is’ (which phrase formed [Acr IV. Biron. Vl prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here. King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. Long. Look, here’s thy love [showing his shoe] : my foot and her face see. Oh, if the streets were paved with thine eyes Her feet were much too dainty for such tread ! King. But what of this? are we not all in love? Biron. Biron. Oh, nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn. King. Then leave this chat; and, good Birén, now prove ; Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil. Long. Oh, some authority how to proceed ; Some tricks, some quillets,!° how to cheat the devil. Dum. Some salve for perjury. Biron. Oh, ’*tis more than need.— Have at you, then, affection’s men-at-arms ! '% Consider what you first did swear unto,— To fast, to study, and to see no woman ;— Flat treason ’gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young ; And abstinence engenders maladies. And where that you have vow’d to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book,— Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look ? For when would you,'” my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study’s excellence, Without the beauty of a woman’s face ? From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive,— They are the ground, the books, the academes, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. Why, universal plodding prisons '®S up The nimble spirits in the arteries,’ the commencement of allegations in law proceedings), as the word *quillet”’ frequently has a legal reference in Shakes oeare’s use of the term. It means a sophistical quibble, a subtlety of evasion, a pretended ground of argument. (106) Affection’s men-at-arms. A man-at-arms is a soldier armed at all points, offensively and defensively ; therefore, by “affection’s men-at-arms,’’ Biron means that they are Love’s soldiers well armed by argument to enrol themselves under his leadership. (107) For when would you, &c. The essence of this, and the fol- lowing five lines, are so closely repeated farther on in the speech, that they are believed to be an altered passage of the author, left in by mistake, and accordingly are omitted from the text by some modern editors. The same thing applies to the eight lines com- mencing “ For where is any author,’ &c.; but we have given the speech entire, as it stands in the Folio, because it is hazardous to determine where the erasures were originally made. (108) Prisons. Misprinted ‘poysons’ in the Folio. (109) Arteries. Shakespeare, with his universal knowledge—so universal as to seem miraculous that one man’s brain should possess its vast amount,—used this word here, apparently aware that it included nerves as well as blood-channels: for Quincy informs us that “each artery is composed of three coats, of which the first seems to be a thread of fine blood-vessels and nerves ;”’ and cer- tainly, the effect of bookish “ plodding ”’ affects the “spirits’’ and the nervous system, as well as the current of the blood and the blood itself. The poet’s pathological knowledge is so accurate as tomake pathologists believe he must have been a student in pathology; as his botanical knowledge, his nautical knowledge, his legal know- ledge, make botanists, mariners, and lawyers each believe him to have made their several pursuits his particular study. ee eee eee ——— ———————SSS ———S Act IV. Scene III. |Aside.] Shot, by heaven! King. Ahme! Biron. Scenu III. | As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller. Now, for not looking on a woman’s face, You have in that forsworn the use of eyes, And study too, the causer of your vow ; For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye ? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are, our learning likewise is. Then, when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes, Do we not likewise see our ee there ? Oh, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books: For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation, have found out Such fiery numbers"! as the prompting eyes Of beauty’s tutors have enrich’d you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: But love, first learnéd in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immuréd in the brain ; But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye,— A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d : Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled'” snails : Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste : For valour, is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ?'* Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair ; And when Love speaks, the voice! of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper’d with Love’s sighs: Oh, then his lines would ravish savage ears, (110) Numbers. The poetical word for verses, rhythmical lines. The word is thus used by Holofernes in the previous scene, where he says—“ Here are only numbers ratified.” The meaning of the present passage is, “When would you, in heavy plodding, have been inspired with such ardent poetry, as your ladies’ eyes have suggested P’ (11) Keep. Used for occupy, dwell in, reside in. (112) Cockled. This term comprises a double meaning: that of shelled, Tike a cockle-fish; and of spiral-formed, from the Latin cochlea, a screw. 'The comparison of “ Love’s feeling”’ to the tender horns of the snail, can scarcely be surpassed in felicity of simile,— nothing being more shrinkingly susceptible, more delicately sensi- tive, than they are. (113) Hesperides. The name given to the daughters of Hesperus, who were appointed to guard the golden apples presented by Juno to Jupiter, and kept in the renowned garden watched by a dragon. One of the labours of Hercules was to procure some of this vigi- lantly kept fruit. Shakespeare, by an ellipsis in use with other writers of his time as well as himself, calls the garden of the Hesperides “‘ the Hesperides.”’ _ (114) And when Love speaks, the voice, &c. The sense of this bean- tiful couplet has been variously explained ; to our thinking it means —* When Love speaks, the accordant voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.’ (115) Promethean fire. The fire for which Prometheus climbed the heavens; stealing it from the chariot of the sun, and with it animating the clay man and woman he had made. The creative LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 295 And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women’s eyes this doctrine | derive : They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ;" They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world, Else none at all in aught proves excellent. Then fools you were these women to forswear ; Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom’s sake, a word that all men love ; Or for love’s sake, a word that loves all men ;''® Or for men’s sake, the authors of these women ; Or women’s sake, by whom we men are men; Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn ; For charity itself fulfils the law,— And who can sever love from charity ? King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field ! Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords ; Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis’d, Tn conflict that you get the sun of them.!” Long. Now to plain dealing; lay these glozes b 2 118 Shall apie to woo these girls of France ? King. And win them too: therefore let us ‘ devise Some entertainment for them in their tents. Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them thither ; Then, homeward, every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, Forerun fair Love,'® strewing her way with flowers. King. Away, away! no time shall be omitted, That will be time,!”? and may by us be fitted. Biron. Allons! allons !)*\—Sow’d cockle reap’d'’” no Corn 5 And justice always whirls in equal measure : Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn ; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. [ Hxeunt. element that sparkles forth from women’s eyes is elegantly styled “the right Promethean fire.” ’ (116) A word that loves all men. ‘A word that is pleasing to all men.’ This form of phrase was not unusual in Shakespeare’s time ; as, “it likes me well,” for ‘it pleases me well.’ In the present passage, this form is used for the sake of antithesis with “a word that all men love.” , (117) Get the sun. It was a great object in contests of archery, to have the sun at the back of the bowmen. In modern days of pugilism, the boxers “toss up for the sun.”’ , A (118) Glozes. Special pleadings, sophistical representations ; in- sinuations, inuendoes. (119) Love. Used for Venus, Queen of Love. See Note 25, Act ili., ‘ Comedy of Errors.” (120) That will be time. ‘Sufficient’ must be understood before “time.” This ellipsis means— We will omit to use no time that can be made sufficient time for getting up the proposed “ revels,” “ dances,” or “ masks.” ’ 2 (121) Allons! allons! A French exclamation of encouragement ; ‘let us go,’ ‘let us be gone!’ The Folio misprints the word ‘alone’ in this passage, and in the next scene of the present play; while in “Henry V..,’’ iii. 4, it gives it ‘alons.’ (122) Sow’d cockle reap’d no corn. An old proverb; quoted by Biron here as apposite to the point that he and his associates, haying begun by forswearing themselves, may perchance gain ladies equally untrue to their vows. eee ee 296 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Holofernes. He is too peregrinate, as I may call it. Sir Nathaniel. A most singular and choice epithet. Act V. Scene I. ACT V. SCENE I.—Another part of the park. Enter Houorernes, Sir Narwanren, and Dutt. Hol. Satis quod sufficit.! Nath. I praise God for you, sir: your reasons? at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection,’ audacious without impudency, learned without opinion,‘ and strange without heresy.’ JI did converse this quon- dam® day with a companion of the king’s, who is (1) Satis quod suffcit. Literally, ‘that satisfies which is suffi- cient ;’ freely, ‘enough is as good as a feast.’ (2) Reasons. Here used, as ‘reason’ elsewhere is, for discourse, conversation ; the French use the verb raisonner for to talk, to dis- course, to converse. (3) Affection. Used for ‘affectation.’ “ Audacious’’ here means bold in fancy and originality. ‘ y Opinion. Here used for dogmatism, or for being opinion- ated. (5) Strange without heresy. Shakespeare employs the word “strange” with large latitude of meaning. Here, and elsewhere (for instance, at the close of the immediately preceding scene, we have “some strange pastime’’), he uses the word in anything but an intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado. Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te:’ his humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed,® his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical.2 He is too picked,!° too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate,!! as I may call it. Nath. A most singular and choice epithet. [Takes out his table-book. Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity unfavourable sense. “Strange without heresy’’ seems to signify New and striking without being heretical.’ (6) Quondam. The word strictly means ‘having formerly existed.’ But here, it is affectedly used by Holofernes in the phrase “This guondam day” to signify the portion of the day gone by, the forenoon. (7) Novi hominem tanquam te. thyself.’ (8) Filed. Polished. (9) Thrasonical. A word coined in allusion to Thraso; a boasting character in one of Terence’s comedies. (10) Picked. Over-nice, too particular or precise. i (11) Peregrinate. The pedant uses this word in its Latin sense of ‘IT know the man as well as Scunz I.] finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasms,’? such insociable and point- devise!’ companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should say doubt ; det, when he should pronounce debt,—d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neigh- bour vocatur! nebour; neigh abbreviated ne. This LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 297 Nath. Videsne quis venit ?1% Hol. Video, et gaudeo.” Enter Armapvo, Morn, and Costarp. Arm. [To Motu.] Chirrah! Hol. Quare*! chirrah, not sirrah ? Arm. Men of peace, well encountered. Holofernes. I will repeat them,—a, e, i,— Moth. 'The sheep; the other two concludes it,—o, u. Armado. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterranean, a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit. Act V. Scene J. is abhominable,—which he would call abominable: it insinuateth me of insanie ;' ne intelligis, domine ?' to make frantic, lunatic. Nath. Laus Deo, bone intelligo.” Hol. Bone!—bone for bene: Priscian'* a little scratched ; ’twill serve. peregrinus, foreign, outlandish; and in its sense of travelling out of common forms or ordinary courses. (12) Phantasms. Fantastics. See Note 14, Act iv. (13) Point-devise. Precise, finical, over-exact. From the French point de vice, without vice or blemish. (14) Vocatwr. Is called. _ (15) Insanie. Misprinted ‘infamie’ in the Folio; but probably “jinsanie’’ is a word that Holofernes mints from the Latin, insania, madness, distraction. (16) Ne intelligis, domine ? sir P’ (17) Laus Deo, bone intelligo. ‘Praise to God, I understand good.’ The pedagogue instantly snaps at the slip in the curate’s “Dost thou not understand me, 38 Hol. Most military sir, salutation. Moth. [Aside to Costarp.] They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. Cost. [Aside to Moru.] Oh, they have lived long on the alms-baskét”® of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so Latin, and corrects him by substituting “ bene’’ (well) for “bone” ood). (s (18) Priscian. A famous grammarian at Athens (in the age of the Emperor Justinian); who would have winced at Sir Nathaniel’s blunder. d ! (19) Videsne quis venit ? ‘ Dost thou not see who is coming?’ (20) Video, et gaudeo. ‘I see, and I rejoice.’ It is editying to observe how the schoolmaster’s disgust at the dealer in fine words abates at his approach; and actually takes the shape of adulation when he arrives. (21) Quare. Wherefore. Holofernes catches at Armado’s affected pronunciation of chirrah for sirrah. (22) Alms-basket. It was the custom for pieces of broken meat 298 long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus :*3 thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.* Moth. [Aside to Costarp.] Peace! the peal begins. Arm. [To Hon.] Monsieur, are you not lettered ? Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn- book.”—What is a, b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head ? Hol. Ba, pueritia,*’ with a horn added. Moth. Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn.—You hear his learning. Hol. Quis, quis,” thou consonant ? Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them ; or the fifth, if I. Hol. I will repeat them,—a, e, i,— Moth. The sheep; the other two concludes it, —o, u. Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediter- ranean, a sweet touch, a quick venew* of wit,—snip, snap, quick and home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit! Moth. Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old. Hol. What is the figure ? what is the figure ? Moth. Horns. Hol. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip Moth. end me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy cirewm circa,“—a gig of a blockhead’s horn. Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread:. hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of dis- cretion. Oh, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say. Hol. Oh, I smell false Latin; dunghill for wn- guem. Arm. Arts-man, preambula ;*! we will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house* on the top of the mountain ? Hol. Or mons, the hill. Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. Hol. I do, sans question. Arm. Sir, it is the king’s most sweet pleasure from the tables of the rich to be put into a basket and given to the poor; therefore Moth and Costard call the stilted language they are listening to, orts, or refuse bits. (23) Honorificabilitudinitatibus. Alluded to by other writers besides Shakespeare as the longest word in the language. (24) A flap-dragon. A small ignited substance; which topers used to set floating on their wine, and swallow as a dashing feat. (25) Horn-book. The first or alphabet book of children; the pages of which were covered with thin horn, to prevent soiling and tearing. § Childhood.’ (26) Pueritia. childish Moth. (27) Quis, quis. * Who, who.’ (28) Venew. Hit. A term of the fencing-school; French, venue. See Note 31, Acti., “ Merry Wives.” (29) Gig. Top. See Note 88, Act iv. (30) Circwm cirea. About and about; round and round. (31) Preambula. By this word (printed in the Folio ‘pream- bulat’) Armado may either mean ‘ Let us enter upon our discourse, commence our preamble;’ or ‘Let us walk about, apart, aside.’ The context, “We will be singled from the barbarous,’’ seems to oe the latter; and that he leads Holofernes away from the otuers. Holofernes’ affected name for the LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. [Acr V. and affection, to congratulate the princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon. Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon: the word is well culled; choice, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman; and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good friend :—for what is inward* between us, let it pass:—I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy*—I beseech thee, apparel thy head:—and among other impor- tunate and most serious designs,—and of great im- port indeed, too,—but let that pass:—for I must tell thee, it will please his grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement, with my mustachio,—but, sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world,—but let that pass.—The very all of all is, —but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy,—that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck,” with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, understand- ing that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking-out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance. Hol. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine - Worthies.—Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some enter- tainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistance, at the king’s command, and this most gallant, ilustrate,** and learned gentleman, before the princess; I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies. Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them ? Hol. Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabeeus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great ;*° the page, Hercules,— Arm. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that Worthy’s thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club. Hol. - Shall I have audience ?* he shall present (82) Charge-house. Probably a common school, where a small stipend for tuition was paid; in contradistinction to a free school. (33) Sans. French, without. See Note 51, Act iv., “ Comedy of Errors.” (34) Inward. Confidential; intimate. See Note 51, Act iii. * Measure for Measure.’’ (35) Remember thy courtesy. A phrase of the time, bidding a person who is courteously standing with his hat off to put it on; equivalent to ‘ Be covered.’ (36) Excrement. A word affectedly used (in its originally derived sense, from the Latin excrescere, to grow out of ) for the hair or beard. (37) Chuck. A term of endearment; a corruption of chick or chicken. (38) Illustrate. Used for ‘illustrious.’ See Note 10, Act iv. (39) Pass Pompey the Great. Shakespeare sometimes uses “ pass” in the sense of ‘pass muster for,’ ‘allowed to stand good as:’ and here it is thus used (as is proved by the words “I am to stand for him,” in the last scene); also meaning to ‘ represent,’ ‘enact,’ in the same way that ‘‘ present” is so used in the next speech but one. (40) Shall I have audience? Holofernes’ impatience at interrup- tion, and his pomposity of rebuke, are thoroughly characteristic of the pedagogue accustomed to harangue rustic urchins standing struck dumb before him. Scene IT. ] Hercules in minority: his enter and ewit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology” for that purpose. Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry, “ Well done, Hercules ! now thou crushest the snake!” that is the way to make an offence gracious,” though few have the grace to do it. Arm. For the rest of the Worthies )— Hol. I will play three myself. Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman ! Arm. Shall I tell you a thing ? Hol. We attend. Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antic.® I beseech you, follow. Hol. Via,** goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while. Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. Hol. Allons!* we will employ thee. Dull. Vll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play : On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.*® Hol. Most dull, honest Dull!—to our sport, away ! [ Heunt. SCENE I1.—Another part of the park. Princess’s pavilion. Before the Enter the Princess, KaTrHartne, Rosaine, and Marta. Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, Tf fairings*” come thus plentifully in: A lady wall’d about with diamonds !— Look you what I have from the loving king. fos. Madam, came nothing else along with that ? Prin. Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper, Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name. _ 4d Apology. Here used for an address of explanation, justifica- tion, and vindication. (42) To make an offence gracious. “To pass off an awkwardness smoothly:’ that is, by causing the hisses to seem those of the snake; and by drawing attention to the fact that there Hercules is in the period of childhood, when he destroyed the serpents sent by Juno to destroy him. (43) We will have, if this [age not, an antic. To “fadge”’ is to suit, to fit, to go off prosperously, to succeed. An “‘antic” is described in Armado’s previous speech, where he talks of “some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework.” (4) Via. Used as an exclamation of encouragement. See Note 47, Act i1., “Merry Wives.” It would be difficult to match this and the next little speech fora concentrated picturing of gape-mouthed inapprehensiveness. And yet this Dull is the man whom Holo- fernes was anxious to have as one of his auditors! See Note 62, Act iv. (45) Allons! See Note 121, Act iv. (46) The hay... Some authorities affirm that to “dance the hay ”’ meant to dance in a ring, as country folk dance round a haycock ; and this is probably the sense in which “honest Dull” uses the expression. Other authorities derive “the hay,’ or hey, from an old rural dance called ‘haydigyes,’ or ‘heydeguyes;’ while still others assert it to be borrowed from the French, as eight (hwit) LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 299 Ros. That was the way to make his godhead : wax,'® For he hath been five thousand years a boy. Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows” too. Ros. You'll ne’er be friends with him; he kill’d your sister. Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; And so she died: had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died: And so may you; for a light heart lives long. Ros. What’s your dark meaning, mouse,” of this light word ? Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. Ros. We need more light to find your meaning out. Kath. Youwll mar the light by taking it in snuff ;*t Therefore Pll darkly end the argument. Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still ’ the dark. Kath. So do not you, for you are a light wench. Ros. Indeed I weigh” not you, and therefore light. Kath. You weigh me not,—oh, that’s you care not for me. Ros. Great reason; for, Past cure is still past care.*3 Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.** But, Rosaline, you have a favour too: Who sent it? and what is it ? Ros. I would you knew: An if my face were but as fair as yours, My favour were as great ;* be witness this. Nay, I have verses too, I thank Birén: The numbers true; and, were the numbering too, I were the fairest goddess on the ground : I am compar’d to twenty thousand fairs. Oh, he hath drawn my picture in his letter ! Prin. Anything like? Ros. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise. Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion. Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.”® persons figured in it, and that it classed among their ‘brawls.’ See Note 3, Act iii. (47) Fairings. Originally presents bought at a fair; but became used for presents or gifts generally. (48) Wax. Used punningly in the sense of the verb ‘to grow,’ and the noun ‘ sealing-wax.’ : (49) Gallows. The name of the gibbet early came to be applied to those deserving the gibbet. (50) Mouse. Formerly used as a term of endearment, or of familiarity. Bae (51) Faking it im snuff, An idiom, meaning ‘'Taking it in anger ;’ there is also a pun on the word “snuff”’ (of a candle) in reference to the words “light” and “ darkly.’’ (52) Weigh. Said in the sense of ‘being equally heavy ;’ repeated, in the sense of ‘value,’ or ‘ esteem.’ : (53) Past cure is still past care. An old proverb to which Rosaline refers; though the Folio transposes “cure” and “care.” (54) Well bandied both; a set of wit, fc. “ Bandied”’ and “set” are terms borrowed from tennis-playing: a “set”? meaning a game; and “to bandy’’ to send the ball from one to another (55) My favour wereas great. Rosaline plays on the word “favour” here; in its sense of present or gift, of approval, and of beauty in countenance or appearance. (56) Fair as a text B in a copy-book. In some early illuminated 300 LOVE'S LABOUR’S LOST. Ros. ’Ware pencils, ho!*” let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter: Oh, that your face were not so full of O’s!%* Kath. A pest of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.”? Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain ? Kath. Madam, this glove. Prin. Did he not send you twain ? Kath. Yes, madam; and, moreover, Some thousand” verses of a faithful lover,— A huge translation of hypocrisy, Vilely compil’d, profound simplicity. Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa- ville : The letter is too long by half a mile. Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart The chain were longer, and the letter short ? Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never art. Prin, We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. fos. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Birén [ll torture ere I go: Oh, that I knew he were but in by the week! * How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless® rhymes, And shape his service wholly to my ’hests, And make him proud to make me proud that jests !® So portent-like™ would I o’ersway his state, That he should be my fool, and I his fate. Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d, As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d, Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school, And wit’s own grace to grace a learnéd fool. fos. The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity’s revolt to wantonness. Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote ; Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.” books, and, subsequently, printed alphabet-books, the letters were given in alternate colours of red and black. Rosaline, the dark beauty, is twitted with being like the letter B; and Katharine, the fair, light-haired beauty, is called “My red dominical, my golden letter.’ There is probably also allusion to the dominical letters and red-letter-days of calendars. (57) ’Ware pencils, ho! Misprinted ‘Ware pensals. How?’ in the Folio. Rosaline bids Katharine beware of drawing likenesses, for fear of retaliation. (58) So full of O's! A way of saying ‘so pitted with the small pox;’ for the sake of keeping up the punning allusion to letters of the alphabet. (59) I beshrew all shrows. I curse all curst women; or, ill betide all ill-conditioned women. See Note 24, Act ii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (60) Thousand. Used for an indefinite number, a large amount. See Note 72, Act iii., “ Much Ado about Nothing.” (61) In by the week! A phrase formerly used when hiring attendants or labourers. Rosaline means to say, ‘Oh, that I knew he were really engaged as my servant!’ “servant” being then a term for a suitor or admirer. See Note 11, Act ii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (62) Bootless. Fruitless, useless, unproductive. See Note 15, Act i., “Tempest.” [Act We Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Enter Boyer. Boyet. Oh, I am = stabb’d with laughter! ® Where’s her grace ? Prin. Thy news, Boyet? Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare !— Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are ® Against your peace: Love doth approach disguis’d, Arméd in arguments ; you'll be surpris’d: Muster your wits; stand in your own defence ; Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence. Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid!® What are they That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say. Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour ; When, lo! to interrupt my purpos’d rest, Toward that shade I might behold addrest The king and his companions: warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear,— That, by-and-by, disguis’d they will be here. Their herald is a pretty knavish page, That well by heart hath conned his embassage : Action and accent did they teach him there ; “Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear :” And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majestical would put him out ; ‘“‘ For,” quoth the king, “an angel shalt thou see ; Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.” © The boy replied, “ An angel is not evil; I should have fear’d her, had she been a devil.” With that, all laugh’d, and clapped him on the shoulder, Making the bold wag by their praises bolder : One rubb’d his elbow, thus, and fleer’d, and swore A better speech was never spoke before ; Another, with his finger and his thumb, Cried, “ Via !7° we will do’t, come what will come ;” The third he caper’d, and cried, ‘‘ All goes well;” The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell. With that, they all did tumble on the ground, With such a zealous laughter, so profound, (63) Make him proud to make me proud that jests! ‘Make him proud to minister to my pride who turn him into jest.’ (64) Portent-like. _Misprinted ‘pertaunt-like’ in the Folio. Hanmer suggested the correction; and Shakespeare uses the word “portent’’ for an embodiment of ascendancy, or impending influence. (65) Simplicity. Here used for ‘simpletonism ;’ as “profound simplicity” was employed by Katharine, a few speeches back, for “deep shallowness, silliness, or simpletonism.’ (66) Stabb’d with laughter! Given the side-ache with laughter. There are modern equivalents in the phrases ‘killed with inna “die of laughter,’ (67) Encounters mounted are. This impersonation of things (“encounters’’ for ‘encounterers’) is a poetical license not un- frequent in Shakespeare. (68) Saint Denis to Saint Cupid. “Saint Denis” being the patron saint of France, the French princess gives his name for a battle- cry, as the King of Navarre gives that of “ Saint Cupid,’ when he and his companions enlist themselves under Love’s banner. (69) Audaciously. Shakespeare sometimes uses this word without the ill-meaning of impudency involved in the usual sense of audacious. Here it means, boldly, confidently, with spirit. See Note 3, Act v. (70) Via! See Note 44, Act v. ra Princess. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, W.. , If fairings come thus plentifully in: Noe So A lady wall’d about with diamonds !— [ Z ook you what I have from the loving king.—Act V. Scene 11. Me ui Scunz IL.) hat in this spleen ridiculous appears,” To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears. Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us ? Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparel’d thus,— Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance ; And every one his love-feat’? will advance Unto his several mistress,—which they'll know » By favours several which they did bestow. Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task’d :-— For, ladies, we will every one be mask’d; And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face.— Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear, And then the king will court thee for his dear! Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine, So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.— And change you favours too; so shall your loves Woo contrary, deceiv’d by these removes. fos. Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight. Kath. But in this changing what 1s your intent? Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs : They do it but in mocking merriment ; And mock for mock is‘only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook ; and so be mock’d withal Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display’d, to talk and greet. Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t? Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a foot: Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace ; But while *tis spoke each turn away her face. Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part. Prim. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out. There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown ; To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own: So shall we stay, mocking intended game, And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame. [Trumpets sound within. Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask. Enter the Kine, Biron, Longaviiie, and Duman, in Russian habits, and masked; Moru, Musicians and Attendants. Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth ! Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.” (71) In this spleen ridiculous appears. Not only was the spleen believed to be the seat of mirth as well as of anger and melancholy, but it is used sometimes as a violent fit, or spasm of either emo- tion. Here “this spleen ridiculous” means ‘this ridiculous fit of laughter’ (72) Love-feat. This word (given thus in the Folio) has been plausibly altered to ‘love-suit;’ but “love-feat” refers to the various feats of parleying, courting, and dancing, mentioned in the previous line. (73) Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. In allusion to the black LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 303 Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames [The Ladies turn their backs to him. That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views !— Biron. “Their eyes,” villain, “their eyes.” Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views! Out— Boyet. True; “out” indeed. Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold— Biron. Once to behold,” rogue. Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beaméd eyes, — with your sun-beaméd eyes— Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet ; You were best call it “ daughter-beaméd eyes.” Moth. Trey do not mark me, and that brings me out. Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue ! [| Kact Morn. Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet: If they do speak our language, ’tis our will That some plain man recount their purposes: Know what they would. Boyet. What would you with the princess ? Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. What would they, say they ? Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone. King. Say to her, we have measur’d many miles To tread a measure™ with her on this grass. Boyet. They say, that they have measur’d many a mile, To tread a measure with you on this grass. Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many inches Ts in one mile: if they have measur’d many, The measure, then, of one is easily told. Boyet. If to come hither you have measur’d miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell How many inches do fill up one mile. Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. She hears herself. Ros. How many weary steps, Of many weary miles you have o’ergone, Are number’d in the travel of one mile ? Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you: Our at is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without account. Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it. Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. silk masks worn by the ladies. This line is assigned to Biron in tie Folio: but that it belonged to Boyet is evidenced by his desire to interrupt and perplex Moth’s speech, and by the probability that he would venture on a fleering speech relative to the ladies’ eclipsed beauty, which Biron would not have done; he, moreover, being occupied in watching and prompting the page in the delivery of his address. a8 (74) A measure. Here used punningly, in its sense of a meted space, and of a dance. See Note 6, Act ii., “Much Ado about hothing.”’ ; 304 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. [Acr V. King. Blesséd are clouds, to do as such clouds Prin. Gall! bitter. do!® Biron. Therefore meet. Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to [They converse apart. shine— Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a Those clouds remov’d—upon our wat’ry eyne. Ros. Oh, vain petitioner! beg a greater matter ; Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure but vouchsafe one change. Thou bidd’st me beg: this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then!—Nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays. Not yet ;—no dance :—thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estrang’d ? Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she’s chang’d. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays ; vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice: take hands ;—we will not dance. King. Why take we hands, then ? Ros. Only to part friends :— Court’sy, sweet hearts ; and so the measure ends.” King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your company ? Ros. Your absence only. King. That can never be. Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you. King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat. Ros. In private, then. King. I am best pleas’d with that. [They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar,—there are three. Biron. Nay, then, two treys,—an if you grow so nice,— Metheglin, wort, and malmsey,—well run, dice !— There’s half-a-dozen sweets. Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu: Since you can cog,” Pll play no more with you. Biron. One word in secret. Prin. Let it not be sweet. Biron. Thou griev’st my gall. (75) Blesséd are clouds, to do as such clouds do! The gallant king ealls the masks “ clouds” privileged to touch the heavenly counte- nances they veil. (76) Court sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. In allusion to the salutation which formerly began and ended a dance. See Note 61, Act i., “‘ Tempest.”’ (77) Since you can cog. To “cog’’ meant to falsify the dice; and, figuratively, to deceive, delude, tell falsehoods. The words “ well run, dice!” show the allusion; as well as the word ‘“‘treys,”’ a gaming technicality for groups of threes. (78) Veal. Katharine plays on the word in its sense of meat, and in its sense as a foreign mispronunciation of ‘ well.’ word ? Mar. Name it. Dum. Fair lady,— Mar. Say you so? Fair lord,— Take that for your fair lady. Dum. Please it you, As much in private, and [ll bid adieu. [They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue ? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kath. Oh, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman :—is not veal a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady ! . Kath. ; No, a fair lord calf. Long. Let’s part the word. Kath. No, Pll not be your half: Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks ! Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor’s edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen,— Above the sense of sense: so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten” with pure scoff ! King. Farewell, mad wenches ; you have simple wits. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [Exeunt Kine, Lords, Musicians, and Attendants. Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d out. Ros. Well-liking® wits ther have; gross, gross; fat, fat. Prin. Oh, poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!* (79) Dry-beaten. Severely beaten. “Dry’’ in the sense of ‘hard,’ ‘severe,’ comes indirectly from drien, an ancient verb for endure or suffer, and the Scottish and old English verb, to “dree,’’ which has the same meaning. Lord Bacon, and Butler in his “ Hudibras,” use the word in this sense; and Shakespeare has it in “ Comedy of Errors,’’ Act ii., sc. 2, where Dromio of Syracuse says, “ Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another dry basting.” (80) Well-liking. Well-conditioned. “Liking” is used_else- where by Shakespeare in the sense of physical state or condition. See Note 6, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.”’ (81) Kingly-poor flout! This has been variously altered by various editors; but the fact that “kingly’’ stands in the Folio 5 LTE : aS SEA : Hs Uy) iy Wy yy ag Wy) ii a VV Wea yA WN CFF, i) mn ‘ iA \\ NY SS SS W Uf lf Las ZZ YZ Boyet. Their herald is a pretty knavish page, That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage. Act V. Scene II. 39 Scene IT.] Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night ? Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ? This pert Birén was out of countenance quite. Ros. Oh, they were all in lamentable cases ! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Birén did swear hinself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point, quoth 1; my servant straight was mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart ; And trow you what he call’d me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, sickness as thou art ! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute- caps.* But will your hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Birén hath plighted faith to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes ; for it can never be They will digest this harsh indignity. Prin. Will they return ? Boyet. They will, they will, Heaven knows, And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: | Therefore, change favours ; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be under- stood. Boyet. Fair ladies mask’d, are roses in their bud; Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds,* or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity !** What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis’d, Let’s mock them still, as well, known, as disguis’d : Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis’d like Muscovites, in shapeless gear ;° with a capital K makes for the probability of its being the right word. We take “kingly-poor” to mean something equivalent to ‘royally rubbishing,’ ‘famously flat,’ ‘supremely simple or silly.’ (82) No point. A quibble on the point of the sword, and the French negative ‘none,’ ‘ not at all,’ ‘ by no means.’ See Note 17, Act ii. These and other instances show that a play on a word did not require similar pronunciation; but that similar spelling, or sinilarity to the eye, sufficed. See Note 18, Act iii. (83) Better wits have worn plain statute-caps. In 1571 there was an Act of Parliament, or a statute, passed, that the commonalty should wear woollen caps, for the benefit of those employed in their manufacture. Other writers of the time, besides Shake- speare, have allusions to this law, and to the lack of wit among those bound to observe it. The nobility, and better educated class, enjoyed immunity; and Rosaline has a fleer at the student king and his lords being less witty than those allowedly ignorant. (84) Angels vailing clouds. ‘ Angels causing clouds to sink down from before them.’ Shakespeare uses “ vail” for lower, sink down (see Note 1, Act v., “ Measure for Measure”); and “clouds” have been figuratively employed before, for masks, in this scene. See Note 75, Act v. (85) Avaunt, perplexity ! The Princess exclaims, ‘Away with perplexity ! or “Let us have done with perplexity!’ in rebuke of Boyet’s perseveringly flowery speeches; as she has before bid him “speak to be understood.” . (86) In shapeless gear. Alluding to the long straight gowns worn in Muscovite costume. It seems that a mask of Russians was no uncommon recreation in the time of Shakespeare; and in the account of one that was given in the first year of Henry VIII.’s reign, there is mention made of the “long gowns of yellow satin LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 307 And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn’d, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us. Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Hxeunt Princuss, Rosauine, Karuarine, and Marta. Re-enter the Kina, Brron, Loncavinie, and Duman, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess ? Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty Command me any service to her thither ? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. Iwill; and so will she, I know, my lord. [ Hwit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons ‘peas, And utters *’ it again when God doth please : He is wit’s pedler, and retails his wares At wakes and wassails,** meetings, markets, fairs ; And we that sell by gross, the lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve,— Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve: He can carve®™ too, and lisp: why, this is he That kiss’d his hand away in courtesy: This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, That, when he plays at tables,® chides the dice In honourable terms: nay, he can sing A mean most meanly ;*! and in ushering,” Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet; The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet: This is the flower that smiles on every one, To show his teeth as white as whalés bone ;%° And consciences, that will not die in debt, Pay him the due of honey-tongu’d Boyet. King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado’s page out of his part! traversed with white satin, and in every bend of white was a bend of crimson satin,” &c., worn by the maskers. (87) Utters. Used punningly here in its sense of pronounces, speaks ; and in its sense of vends, sells. See Note 3, Act ii. (88) Wakes and wassails. A “wake” was a night-festival, and a “wassail,’ a drinking bout or merry-making. The word “wassail,”’ or wassel, was originally derived from the Saxon Waes hael, ‘be in health;’ and as it was subsequently a village custom to carry round a wassail bowl from house to house, the word “wassail” came to be used for festive excess and festivity. (89) Carve. This act—both in its usual sense of dividing and dispensing food at table, and in its sense of a peculiar sign made with the little finger—was a distinguishing accomplishment with persons of gallantry, and courtiers of Boyet’s stamp. See Note 43, Acti., “ Merry Wives.” 7 (90) Tables. The old name for the game now known as ‘ back- ammon.’ ? (91) A mean most meanly. “Mean” was the term for the tenor part in music; from its lying in the medium portion of the scale. Biron puns in this phrase; as if he had said—He can sing a middle part very middlingly.’ | ; (92) Ushering. This duty involved many services of extreme deference and devotion; though the post of gentleman-usher was held by men in the households of ladies greatly inferior in rank to princesses. To stand bare-headed in their lady’s presence, to run hither and thither on her most trivial errands of ceremony, to dance attendance on her minutest whims, were among the offices expected of these gentry; and old books edifyingly describe a class, of whom Boyet stands forth as super-exquisite type. (93) White as whalés bone. The tooth of the horse whale—morse / 308 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. [Acr V. Biron. See where it comes!—Behaviour, what Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in my wert thou eye,— Till this man show’d thee ? and what art thou now? Biron. Iam as ‘ maculate’ ee eS eS SS eee A MIDSUMMER Scznz I.] And come, Egeus; you shall go with me, I have some private schooling for you both.— For you, fair Hermia, look you, arm yourself To fit your fancies to your father’s will ; Or else the law of Athens yields you up (Which by no means we may extenuate) a To death, or to a vow of single life.— Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love?— Demetrius, and Egeus, go along :'” I must employ you in some business Against our nuptial; and confer with you Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. Ege. With duty and desire we follow you. [Hxeunt Tursnus, Hrepotyra, HeEvs, Demetrius, and train. Lys. How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale ? How chance the roses there do fade so fast ? Her. Belike for want of rain, which I could well Beteem!* them from the tempest of mine eyes. Iys. Ahme! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth ; But, either it was different in blood,— Her. Oh, cross! too high to be enthrall’d to low !19 Lys. Or else misgraffed in respect of years,—~ Her. Oh, spite! too old to be engag’d to young! Iys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,— Her. Oh, ill! to choose love by another’s eye! Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it, Making it momentany” as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; Brief as the lightning in the collied*! night, That, in a spleen,”* unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say,—Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. Tf, then, true lovers have been ever cross’d, It stands as an edict in destiny: Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy’s*™ followers. Lys. A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. (16) Extenuate. ‘diminish in force.’ (17) Go along. Sometimes used as an equivalent for ‘go with me;’ instead of, as now, for ‘ go away.’ (18) Beteem, Here used in its combined senses of ‘pour forth,’ ‘dispense,’ ‘ afford,’ ‘allow,’ ‘ permit.’ (19) Low! Misprinted in the Folio ‘loue.’ Theobald’s cor- rection. (20) Momentany. The word is given thus in both the quarto copies, though the Folio prints it ‘momentarie.’ “ Momentany”’ and “momentary ’’ were both in use at that period; but as the word “momentany”’ is directly derived from the Latin momentaneus, and was used by several of our old English classical writers, we think it was probably Shakespeare’s word in this passage, and therefore retain it in the text. (21) Collied. Dark, as though blackened by coal. (22) Ina spleen. In asudden fit or paroxysm. See Note 71, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ _ (23) Fancy. Often used by Shakespeare for love, or enamoured imagination. (24) Respects. Regards, considers. (25) Observance to a morn of May. There is frequent allusion in Chaucer to these pleasant rites performed by our old English pre- Used in the sense of ‘mitigate in severity,’ NIGHT’S DREAM. 323 I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revénue, and she hath no child: From Athens is her house remote seven leagues ; And she respects** me as her only son. There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee ; And to that place the sharp Athenian law Cannot pursue us. If thou lov’st me, then, Steal forth thy father’s house to-morrow night; And in the wood, a league without the town, Where I did meet thee once with Helena, To do observance to a morn of May,” There will I stay for thee. Her. My good Lysander! I swear to thee, by Cupid’s strongest bow, By his best arrow with the golden head ; By the simplicity of Venus’ doves ; By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves ; And by that fire which burn’d the Carthage queen,” When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke ;— In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. Iys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. Enter Hevena. Her. God speed fair Helena! whither away ? Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair:*” oh, happy fair! Your eyes are lode-stars ;** and your tongue’s sweet air More tuneable than lark” to shepherd’s ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching: oh, were favour so, Yours would I catch,” fair Hermia! ere I go, My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,*! The rest I'll give to be to you translated.” Oh, teach me how you look; and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart! Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Hel. Oh, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. decessors; and Stowe mentions how they used to go out into “the sweet meadows and green woods, there to rejoice their spirits with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and with the harmony of birds praising God in their kind,” : 4 (26) The Carthage queen. Dido. “The false Trojan” is Aineas. See Note 7, Act ii., “Tempest.” fc (27) Loves your fair, “Fair” is here used, substantively, for ‘beauty.’ See Note 13, Act ii., “ Comedy of Errors.” ‘ (28) Your eyes are lode-stars. The “lode-star”’ is the leading star, from Saxon ledan, to lead; the pole-star, or north-star. (29) More tuneable than lark. ‘Is’ must be understood before “more.’’ In Shakespeare’s style of elliptical construction, he makes the plural verb “are’’ do service for the singular verb “is’’ in the second clause of the sentence. ; (30) Were favour so, yours would I catch. “ Favour’’ is here used for countenance, appearance, attractive qualities generally. “ Yours would I catch’’ (Hanmer’s correction) is misprinted ‘ Your words I catch’ in the Folio. (31) Bated. Used herein the sense of excepted, left out, omitted, cut off, retrenched. The use of this word thus supports the meaning given to “abate” in Note 126, Act v., “Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (32) Translated. Here used, and elsewhere, for ‘ transformed.’ 324 A MIDSUMMER Hel. Oh, that my prayers could such affection move ! Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. Hel. None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine! Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face ; Lysander and myself will fly this place.— Before the time I did Lysander see,** Seem’d Athens as a paradise to me: Oh, then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn’d a heaven unto a hell! Iys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: To-morrow night, when Phoebe* doth behold Her silver visage in the watery glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal,) Throvgh Athens’ gates have we devis’d to steal. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, There my Lysander and myself shall meet ; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies.” Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us; And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius !— Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight. Lys. I will, my Hermia. [Heit Herma. Helena, adieu : As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [ Katt. Hel. How happy some, o’er others some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she: But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; He will not know what all but he do know: And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes, So Is; admiring of his qualities. Things base and vile, holding no quantity,*® Love can transpose to form and dignity : Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind : Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste ; Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste ; And therefore is Love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil’d. (33) Before the time I did Lysander see. There seems some reason to believe that “Lysander” is here a misprint for “Demetrius.”’ But taking the passage as it stands, we thus interpret it:—Hermia wishing to console Helena—who attributes to her friend greater powers of attraction than herself—says that ere she won Lysander’s love she was at peace; but that now the dread of separation destroys her happiness, and therefore the power of gaining affection may not be so enviable as is supposed. (34) Phoebe. One of the many names given to the moon, as sister to Phoebus, the sun. (35) Stranger companies. This is misprinted in the Folio, ‘ strange companions;’ as, a little before, “sweet” is misprinted ‘ sweld.’ Theobald made the judicious corrections, shown to be required by the rhyme. Moreover, ‘ companies’’ is thus used for associates, society, or companionship, in the first scene of “ Henry V.” (36) Holding no quantity. An idiom used by Shakespeare’ here and in “ Hamlet,” Act iii., sc. 2. It seems here to signify ‘ pos- sessing no intrinsic merit of their own, and having no equal worth with the person estimating them.’ (87) In game. Here signifies not ‘at play,’ but ‘in play ;’ in jest, in joke. (38) Eyne. Old plural form of ‘ eyes.’ NIGHT’S DREAM. {ActL. As waggish boys in game* themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjur’d everywhere : For ere Demetrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne,* He hail’d down oaths that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolv’d, and showers of oaths did melt. I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight: Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night, Pursue her ; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense : But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again. [ Hatt. SCENE II.—Athens. Enter Quince, A room in QuINcE’s house. Snue, Borrom, Fiurr, Snour, and STARVELING. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.” Qui. Here is the scroll of every man’s name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point." Quin. Marry, our play is—The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death” of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.—Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll.—Masters, spread your- selves. Quin. Answer as I call you.—Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant ? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- forming of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some (39) It is a dear expense. Helena by this expression means what it costs her to give Demetrius the clue for pursuing Hermia, and to betray the secret which her friend has just confided to her. (40) Scrip. A corruption of ‘script,’ from the Latin scriptum, a thing written. By “the scrip’’ Bottom means the written list, or “seroll”’ that Quince mentions in the next speech. (41) Grow toa point. A familiar phrase formerly, equivalent to ous acc modern ‘Come to the point,’ ‘Come to the matter in hand.’ (42) The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death, &c. A satire upon the titles of some of 5 dramas of the time; such as, “A lamentable Tragedie mixed full of pleasant Mirth, containing The Life of Cambyses, King of Persia,” &e. (43) Name what part I am for, and proceed. Bully Bottom, the true type of all conceited players—amateur and professional—after having first taken upon himself to dictate to the manager how he shall conduct the affair by beginning by the enumeration of the actors, no sooner hears himself named, than he interrupts the enumeration he has proposed by desiring to have his own part first cast, and then they may “ proceed;’’ though he even goes on to discuss his especial part at length, before he gives them an oppor- tunity of “ proceeding.” = TT) ee palea et K \\ j } = “| ey tS) NZ ate, =~ -NVASaeS GY) SCA J cA ‘ ie ) | Ss SE = Fh —= = ————— a< = = ro ‘ 4 | ee Ses Ma ee el oe — Ss cma af eT Lysander. How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale ? ti How chance the roses there do fade so fast? 4.4 7 Scene I. \ 1S PO tek Cr it (ah. i thd. VALE pe wh anette Sei enag ey fas tet ce * 147 iow 1s as Pialtar 39, Eve - ey z wly on re L- rie Py te oF ‘ ‘Mee SS + tah ae ge Scenx IT.] measure. To the rest:—yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles* rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.” The raging rocks * And shivering shocks Shall break the locks Of prison gates ; And Phibbus’ car Shall shine from far, And make and mar The foolish Fates. This was lofty !—Now name the rest of the players. —This is Ercles’ vein, a tyrant’s vein ;—a lover is more condoling.”” Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.“* Flu. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight ? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith; let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming. Quin. That’s all one: you shall play it in a mask,*? and you may speak as small as you will.” Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: [ll speak ina monstrous little voice ;—‘‘ Thisne, Thisne,”’—‘“ Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady deax !” Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus :—and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you.must play Thisby’s mother.—Tom Snout, the tinker Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus’s father; myself, Thisby’s father ;—Snug, the joiner, you, the lion’s part :—and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion’s part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that (44) Ercles. A corruption of Hercules, who was one of the ranting heroes of the then popular stage-plays. (45) To tear a cat in, to make all split. These were terms in use for expressing the style of roaring and bawling that distinguished scme players of that time. (46) The raging rocks, fc. This doggrel is printed as prose and mis-stopped in the Folio, so as to show the jumble which Bottom makes of 1t in delivery. (47) Condolg. That the speaker thinks this is a word expres- sive of the most affecting pathos, is evident from his twice using it m the course of his speech. (48) Bellows-mender. It has been said that this is ‘one who had the care of organs, regals, &c.;’ and the name (“ Flute”) given to him by ‘Shakespeare, makes for the supposition that a “ bellows- mender” meant a man attending to the repairs of apparatus. be- longing to musical instruments, as well as a ‘ botcher of utensils for blowing the fire.’ It may be as well to add that “regals ” was the name for a small portable organ. (49) Play it in a mask. In Shakespeare’s time the women characters were acted by boys, or by men wearing masks. (50) Speak as small as you will. To “speak small” is to orn ina femininely soft voice. See Note 11, Act i., “Merry ives. A MIDSUMMER NIGH1’°S DREAM. 327 T will do any man’s heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, “ Let him roar again, let him roar again.”’>! Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us, every mother’s son. Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an ’twere any nightin- gale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer’s day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus. Bot. Well, I will undertake it. were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what you will. Bot. Iwill discharge” it in either your straw- colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple- in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.” Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all,and then you will play barefaced.—But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con® them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile with- out the town, by moonlight ; there will we rehearse, —for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties,» such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect : adieu !°° Quin. At the duke’s.oak we meet. Bot. Enough; hold or cut bow-strings.” [| Hxeunt. What beard (51) Let him roar again. Not only does Bottom propose to play every part himself, but he anticipates the applause and encores his own roar. (52) Discharge. A theatrical technicality in Shakespeare’s time for ‘enact,’ ‘perform.’ See Note 23, Act ii., “ Tempest.” . (58) Perfect yellow. It was the custom to dye the beard of various colours; and Bottom’s imagination runs wild in fancying the most flaringly unfit ones for the purpose. But his beard, and his looks, and his appearance, are the great point to be debated. (54) Con. From the Saxon connan, to know. Here used for ‘make known by rote,’ ‘commit to memory.’ ‘ re Properties. Stage necessaries. See Note 30, Act iv., “ Merry ives.” (56) Take pains; be perfect : adieu. Some editors transfer these words to the next speech; and some observe that they “seem more suited to Quince than to Bottom.” But surely they are peculiarly characteristic of Bottom’s style of interfering, dictating, and taking upon himself even the manager’s own prerogative of ordering his actors. (57) Hold or cut bow-strings. A form of pledge for meeting among archers (meaning, ‘I will hold to my word, or you may cut my bow- strings’), which passed into common use as a promise to keep an appointment. 328 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. [Acr II. CTLs SCENE I.—A wood near Athens. Enter a Farry, and Puck, from opposite sides. Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? Fai. Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon’s sphere ; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs! upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners? be ; In their gold coats spots you see ; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: T must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits ;° ll be gone: Our queen and all her elves come here anon. Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to- night : Take heed the queen come not within his sight ; For Oberon is passing fell‘ and wrath, Because that she, as her attendant, hath A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king ; She never had so sweet a changéling :° And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild : But she perforce withholds the lovéd boy, Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,® But they do square ;’ that all their elves, for fear, Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there. Fat. Wither I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd® and knavish sprite Called Robin Goodfellow :° are you not he That frights the maidens of the villagery ; Skims milk, and sometimes labours in the quern,"® And bootless makes the breathless housewife churn ; And sometimes makes the drink to bear no barm :"! Misleads night-wanderers, laughing at their harm ? (1) Orbs. The greener circlets left upon the grass by the tracks of the elves after their hand-in-hand dances; known in popular par- lance as ‘ fairy-rings.’ See Note 7, Act v., “Tempest.” ‘The office of the fay who speaks is to bedew and keep them fresh; for it was believed that the footsteps of the fairies parched these “‘ orbs.” (2) Pensioners. An allusion to a band of gentry thus called, attendants upon Queen Elizabeth; who were especially tall, well- oy, and resplendently attired. See Note 39, Act ii., “ Merry Vives.” (3) Thow lob of spirits. Probably the fairy calls Puck thus, because he is of a larger and heavier make, and his duties more material than his own. ‘“ Lob,” like looby, and lubber, means a clownish, clumsy, or ungainly person. (4) Fell. Fierce, furious. (5) Changéling. It was believed that the fairies sometimes stole away an especially well-favoured child, leaving an ill-conditioned one in exchange. (6) Sheen. Shining, bright. (7) Square. Quarrel, contest, take opposite sides. It appears to mean ‘prepare for fighting,’ ‘show pugnacious intentions,’ rather Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck: Are not you he? Puck. Thou speak’st aright ; IT am that merry wanderer of the night. IT jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab ;'? And when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her wither’d dewlap pour the ale. The wisest aunt,! telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; Then slip I from her, and down topples she, And “ tailor’’™ cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole quire hold their hips and loffe ; And waxen in their mirth,!° and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there.— But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon. Fai. And here my mistress.—Would that he were gone ! SCENE II.—The same. Enter, from one side, Opnron, with his train ; from the other, Trranta, with hers. Obe. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. Tita. What, jealous Oberon !—Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn his bed and company. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord? Tita. Then I must be thy lady: but I know When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, | And in the shape of Corin sat all day, Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, Come from the farthest steep of India, But that, forsooth, the bouncing '’ Amazon, Your buskin’d mistress and your warrior love, Tio Theseus must be wedded ? and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity. Obe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, ; than actually to fight. See Note 17, Act i., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (8) Shrewd. Used for mischievous, mischief-loving. (9) Robin Goodfellow. One of Puck’s popular names. a0) Quern. A hand-mill. ‘The original Gothic and Icelandic word. (11) Drink to bear no barm. “‘ Drink” is here used for ale or beer while, in course of brewing, it is said to work. ‘“‘ Barm”’ is yeast. (12) Roasted crab. See Note 177, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (13) Aunt. Here used for an old crone, gossip, or gammer. (14) © Tailor.’ This seems to have been an exclamation when any one slipped from a seat and fell backwards; Doctor-Johnson thinks possibly because a person so stumbling falls as a tailor squats upon his board. (15) Loffe. An old form of ‘laugh;’ as “ neeze” is of ‘sneeze.’ _ (16) Wawen in their mirth. Increase in their fun; grow louder in their jollity: what Biron means when he says, “Climb in the merriness.’’ See Note 30, Acti., “ Love's Labour’s Lost.” (17) Bouncing. Just the epithet for the fairy queen Titania to use for her human rival. MMcest4Y4 GEA" r Yi VL LY); lage | Bottom. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man’s heart good to hear me. Act I, Scene IT. 42 > a y - Se eee - es 6 ay . ~ Scent IT.] Knowing I know thy love to Theseus ? Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Peneena whom he ravishéd ? And make him with fair Mglé break his faith, With Ariadne and Antiopa ? Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : And never, since the middle summer’s spring,'® Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain” or by rushy brook, Or on the beachéd margint of the sea, To dance our ringlets*! to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturb’d our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge, have suck’d up from the sea Contagious fogs ; which, falling in the land, Have every pelting” river made so proud, That they have overborne their continents :¥ The ox hath therefore stretch’d his yoke in vain, The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard: The fold stands empty in the drownéd field, And crows are fatted with the murrain* flock ; The nine men’s morris” is fill’d up with mud ; And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,” For lack of tread, are undistinguishable : The human mortals want their winter here ;”” No night is now with hymn or carol blest :— Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound : And thorough this distemperature* we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; And on old Hiems’ chin, and icy crown,” An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, The childing autumn,” angry winter, change (18) Perigenia. She is mentioned in North’s “ Plutarch”’ (Life of Theseus) as ‘ Perigouna;’ where Shakespeare also found « Miglé,” “ Ariadne,” and “ Antiopa,” as victims to the conqueror’s. power. (19) Middle summer’s spring. The commencement of midsummer. “Spring” is here used for beginning, opening, earliest portion of. (20) Pavéd fountain. A streamlet with a pebbly bottom; in con- tradistinction to a weed-grown or “rushy brook.”’ (21) Ringlets. Little rings; hand-in-hand circles. (22) Pelting. Used here and elsewhere by Shakespeare for aeeey,. ‘petty.’ See Note 39, Act ii., “Measure for Measure.” The Folio prints the latter word ; but the Quartos give “ pelting,” which was probably the poet’s word, inasmuch as it combines the idea of headlong course with insignificance. (23) Continents. The banks that contain the stream of water. Shakespeare elsewhere uses “ continent’’ for that which contains. See Note 17, Act iv., “Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (24) Murrain. A disease or plague among sheep and cattle. The poet here uses the word adjectively. _ (25) The nine men’s morris. A game played by two persons, with nine men or pieces each. It was played indoors with a board; out of doors, on a square of turf, with lines marked and holes cut, which in rainy weather would become “ filled up with mud.” The game was originally French, under the name of ‘merelles,’ counters; and was first, called in England ‘merrils,’ afterwards corrupted into morris. (26) The quaint mazes in the wanton green. This has been said to have particular allusion to the figures made in the ground, used for a boyish game called “running the figure of eight ;’’ but it should rather seem to refer to the traces left by the feet of those who engage in rustic sports and dances on the village green. (27) The human mortals want their winter here. ‘ Human mortals’’ is a fairy-queen expression for the huge material beings of man- kind, in contradistinction to the dainty proportions and conditions of her own race. “ Want” in this phrase is used in the sense of ‘stand in need of,’ ‘be without.’ Men, Titania means, have too much of autumnal damps, rains, and inundations; they require the Ce A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’ DREAM. 331 Their wonted liveries ;*! and the mazéd world, By their increase,*” now knows not which is which: And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension ; We are their parents and original.* Obe. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you: Why should Titania cross her Oberon ? I do but beg a little changeling boy, To be my henchman.** Tita. Set your heart at rest: The fairy land buys not the child of me, His mother was a votaress of my order: And, in the spicéd Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip’d by my side; And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands, Marking the embarkéd traders on the flocd ; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, Would imitate, and sail upon the land, To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; And for her sake I do rear up her boy; And for her sake I will not part with him. Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay ? Tita. Perchance till after Theseus’ wedding-day. If you will patiently dance in our round, And see our moonlight revels, go with us ; If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom.—Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Hait Trranta, with her train. Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove, Till I torment thee for this injury.— My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou remember’st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin’s back, briskness, crispness, and vigorous cold of winter to brace them and restore vital energy. (28) Distemperature. Here used for mutual displeasure, disagree- ment, disturbance; that between the king and queen of fairy-land causing elemental disturbance. (29) Old Hiems’ chin, and icy crown. Some editors have changed “ chin”? to ‘ thin’ in this passage, throwing much scorn on the idea of Winter wearing a garland upon his chin; but the picture pre- sented to the imagination of the long drooping beard as well as hair of “old Hiems’’ being enwreathed with flowers, is surely among the most poetical of images. sOe. (30) The childing autumn. ‘Childing”’ strictly means bringing forth children; here used for teeming, fruitful, productive. (31) Liveries. Appropriate garbs; special badges, or seasonal tokens. See Note 9, Acti. (32) Their inerease. Used for produce; that which the seasons put forth. a (33) We are their parents and original. Titania’s attributing to her own and her fairy consort’s right regal little differences the calamities of universal Nature forms a fine satire upon the dog- matical assumptions with which the origin of such calamities has been ascribed time out of mind. This is the speech alluded to in Note 1 of this play, as apparently referring to the seasonal occur- rences in England during the years 1593-4; which are thus recorded by the author of a poem called “ Charity,’’ published in 1595: — A colder time in world was never seen: The skies do lour, the sun and moon wax dim: Summer scarce known, but that the leaves are green. The winter’s waste drives water o’er the brim ; Upon the land great floats of wood may swim. Nature thinks scorn to do her duty right, Because we have displeased the Lord of Light.” (34) Henchman. A pageof honour. The word has been variously derived: from the Saxon hine, a servant; from the Teutonic hengst, 332 A MIDSUMMER Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid’s music. Puck. I remember. Obe. That very time I saw (but thou couldst not), Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm’d: a certain aim he took At a fair vestal thronéd by the west,*® And loos’d his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts: But I might see young Cupid’s fiery shaft Quench’d in the chaste beams of the wat’ry moon, And the imperial vot’ress passéd on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free,*® Yet mark’d I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love’s wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.*” Fetch me that flower; the herb I show’d thee once: The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid, Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again Ere the leviathan can swim a league. Puck. Tl put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes.® [ Exit. Obe. Having once this juice, Pll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. The next thing then 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 off from her sight (As I can take it with another herb), Dll make her render up her page to me. But who comes here? I am invisible ;° And I will overhear their conference. Enter Demerrivs, Hetena following him. Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander and fair Hermia ? The one I’ll slay, the other slayeth me.‘ a horse; or that it was perhaps originally ‘haunchman,’ one who followed close to his master. (35) A fair vestal thronéd by the west. This is prey one of those poetical compliments best calculated to please the royal Elizabeth, who loved to be called “the Virgin Queen,” and to have her refusal of husband-suitors attributed to her being above the reach of passion-assaults. It is not to be supposed but that Her Majesty’s woman-heart was as accurately read by Shakespeare as those of all her sisterhood; and a more delicate, as well as perenne) beautiful, verse-homage was never paid by writer to ady. _ (36) Fancy-free. “Fancy” is here used for love, enamoured imagination. See Note 23, Acti. (37) Love-in-idleness. One of the many fondling names popularly bestowed upon the ‘ pansy’ (a corruption of the French word pensée, thought) or heart’s-ease. Some of the varieties are white, with touches of “purple;” suggestive to a poetical imagination of the stains from “ love’s and ” in the text. (38) IU put a girdle rownd about the earth im forty minutes. ‘To put a girdle about the world’ seems to have been a familiar phrase in Shakespeare’s time for a cireumnavigator’s feat. (39) I am invisible. It is probable that here Oberon put ona garment such as is mentioned in Henslowe’s “ Diary,” which speaks of stage-properties, and among them “a robe for to go invisible.”’ en this was assumed, the audience were to understand that the phage? was supposed to be unseen by the other personages on the stage. (40) The one PU slay, the other slayeth me. The Folio gives ‘ stay’ NIGHT’S DREAM. [Acr IT. Thou told’st me they were stol’n into this wood ; And here am I, and wood within this wood, Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence! get thee gone, and follow me no more. Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant ;* But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you. Dem. DoT entice you? do I speak you fair: Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth Tell you, I do not nor I cannot love you? Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. Iam your spaniel; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, Unworthy as I am, to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your love (And yet a place of high respect with me), Than to be uséd as you use your dog ? Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit ; For I am sick when I do look on thee. Hel, And I am sick when I look not on you. Dem. You do impeach* your modesty too much, To leave the city, and commit yourself Into the hands of one that loves you not; To trust the opportunity of night, And the ill-counsel of a desert place, With the rich worth of your virginity. Hel. Your virtue is my privilege“ for that. It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night ; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect* are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me? Dem. Ill run from thee and hide me in tho brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be chang’d,— Apollo flies, and Daphne*® holds the chase ; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind and ‘stayeth’ for “slay” and “slayeth,’ which were Theokald’s corrections at the suggestion of Dr. 'Thirlby. As it appears to us, the attempt to interpret the word ‘stayeth’ into the sense of ‘hindereth’ and applying it to Lysander, is forced; whereas “the one’’ (referring to Lysander) and “ the other” (referring to Hermia) is in the natural course of constructional progression; and that to “slay” his rival, while his mistress’s cruelty “slayeth’’ him, is according to lover-phraseology. (41) Wood within this wood. “Wood”? is an old word for ‘ wild,’ ‘distracted,’ ‘mad.’ See Note 20, Act ii, “Two Gentlemen of Verona.”’ (42) Yow draw me, you hard-hearted adamant. In John Florio’s “Second Frutes,’’ 1591 (a book that contains numerous expressions used by Shakespeare, leading to the belief that it was a work well known to him), there is a line which contains words of marked similarity to those of the passage in the text—“ Looks of adamant to draw hearts of yron like ships to the shipwrack.”’ (43) Impeach. Shakespeare uses this word with large force of meaning. Addressed to Helena, it here includes the sense of ‘ bring her modesty into question,’ ‘subject it to imputation and detri- ment.’ See Note 29, Acti., “ Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (44) Privilege. Used in the sense of guarantee. (45) Respect. Regard, consideration. The word is thus employed throughout this play. A few speeches back we find—“—Lysander ! lord !— What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word ? Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear ; Speak, of all loves!*' J swoon almost with fear. No ?—then I well perceive you are not nigh : Hither death, or you, I’ll find immediately. [ Hart. (77) Point. Here elliptically used for ‘highest point, ‘ culmi- nating point.’ (78) Good troth. In this line, “troth’ and “sooth” have both the meaning of truth, verity. f (79) Gentleness. Here used for ‘kindliness,’ ‘good-breeding,’ ‘gentlemanly feeling.’ , (80) Prey. Used here in the sense of ‘ravage,’ ‘depredation,’ * preying.’ (81) Of all loves. An adjuration meaning ‘ By all you love.’ See Note 43, Act ii., “The Merry Wives of Windsor.”’ 336 A.CaE SCENE I.—The wood. Trranta lying asleep. Enter Quince, Snue, Borrom, Fiure, Syout, and STARVELING. Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous conve- nient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our ’tiring-house ;! and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke, Bot. Peter Quince,— Quin. What say’st thou, bully Bottom ? Bor. There are things in this comedy of “ Pyra- mus and Thisby” that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that ? Snout. By’r lakin, a parlous fear.? Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. Bot. Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear. Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.? Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.‘ Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? Star. I fear it, I promise you. Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your- selves: to bring in,—God shield us !—a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion, living; and we ought to look to it. Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell he is not a lion. Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion’s neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus. or to the same defect,°>—* Ladies,’’—or. “‘ Fair ladies,—I would wish you,’—or, “I would request you.”—or, “I would entreat you,—not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are:”—and there, indeed, let (1) ’Tiring-house. The place wherein actors attired themselves. (2) By’r lakin, a parlous fear. “By’r lakin” was a diminutive oath, corrupted from a more important one. See Note 16, Act iii., “The Tempest. ere Parlous’’ is a corruption of ‘perilous; and here means ‘ dreadful,’ ‘ terrible.’ ue i eight and siz. In alternate verses of eight and six syllables or fee (4) In eight and eight. Bully Bottom has now turned critic as well as actor; objecting to everything, spying out defects, and con- tradicting tor contradict: on’s sake. (5) Defect. For ‘effect.’ (6) A bush of thorns. The man in, the moon was supposed to carry athorn-bush, See Note 46, Act ii., “ Tempest.” (7) Brake. A thorny thicket. In this scene the sentences, “‘ This noawthorn-brake our ’tiring-house,’”’ and “‘ Enter into that brake,’’ A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. Talal him name his name, and tell them plainly, he is Snu, the joiner. Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things—that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. Snug. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play ? Bot. (13) Brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew. “Juvenai”’ means ‘youth.’ See Note 42, Act i., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” “ Eke”’ is ‘also,’ ‘likewise,’ ‘moreover.’ “Jew” is here used as a term of endearment. See Note 27, Act iii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (14) Translated. Used for ‘transformed.’ See Note 32, Act a 338 of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. [| Sings. The ousel-cock™ so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle’” with his note so true, The wren with little quill ;— Tita. [Awaking.| What angel wakes me from my flowery bed ? Bot. [Sings. | The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plain-song!§ cuckoo grey, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer nay :— for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he ery “cuckoo” never so? Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note ; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ; And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now -a-days ;— the more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek! upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit” enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go: Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate,— The summer still doth tend upon my state ; And I do love thee: therefore, go with me ; Ill give thee fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing, while thou on presséd flowers dost sleep : And I will purge thy mortal grossness so, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.— Peas-blossom ! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed ! Enter Pras-Biossom, Copwes, Motu, and MustTarb-sEED. Peas. Ready. Cob. And I. Moth. And I. Mus. And I, All Four. Where shall we go ? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman : (15) Iwill sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. It is pleasant to notify similitudes of thinking in the two greatest masters of comic drama that ever wrote—Shakespeare and Moliére. Sosia, in “ Amphitryon,”’ watching through the dark night, and seeing some- body coming, says—“ I'll sing a little, that I may seem at ease.’ In the same way, Master Slender’s “T’ll rather be unmannerly than troublesome’’ (“‘Merry Wives of Windsor,” Acti., sc.1), has an exact parallel in Mons. Jourdain’s “ I’d rather be uncivil than tire- some.” (16) The ousel-cock. A name used in Shakespeare’s time for the blackbird. (17) The throstle. The missel-thrush. (18) Plain-song. The term given by musicians to the simple melody or chant on which it was usual to ‘descant,’ or perform variations. ‘The term is appropriately applied as an epithet for the cuckoo’s song, which consists but of two simple and unvarying notes. ee [Acr IT. Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes ; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,”! With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise ; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes : Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. Peas. Hail, mortal! Cob. Hail! Moth. Hail! Mus. Hail! Bot. I cry your worship’s mercy, heartily.—I beseech your worship’s name, Cob. Cobweb. Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance,” good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, [ shall make bold with you.—-Your name, honest gentleman ? Peas. Peas-blossom. Bot. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash,” your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too.—Your name, I beseech you, sir? Mus. Mustard-seed. Bot. Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well:*4 that same cowardly, giant-like ox- beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seed. Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a wat’ry eye ; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforcéd chastity. Tie up my love’s tongue, bring him silently. | Exeunt. SCENE II.—Another part of the wood. Enter OBERon. Obe. I wonder if Titania be awak’d; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity.— Here comes my messenger. Enter Pucx. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule* now about this haunted grove ? Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. (19) Gleek. To joke, to jest. Bottom alludes to his playing on the expression, “ Keep little company,” by adding that some people should ‘make them friends.” (20) Wit. Used in the sense of ‘ wisdom,’ ‘intelligence.’ (21) Dewberries. A delicate fruit that grows on a bramble, named rubus cesius ; and being covered by a white, dewy-looking secretion, the berries have obtained this name. (22) I shall desire you of more acquaintance. then in use. (23) Squash. Shakespeare uses this word here, and elsewhere, for a young or unformed pod of peas. “ Peascod’’ is another name fur ‘peaspod,’ or ‘ peashell.’ f (24) I know your patience well. This compliment upon the resig- nation with which Mustard-seed beholds his relations “devoured through fault of ‘‘ Ox-beef,’’ is rendered doubly ge ta by the ironical allusion to the so-called “hot’ properties of mustard. (25) Night-rule. Might-revel. Douce points out how the old A form of expression eee A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. | | | Scene IL] Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches,** rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play, Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial-day. The shallowest thick-skin™ of that barren sort,” Who Pyramus presented,” in their sport Forsook his scene, and enter’d in a brake : When I did him at this advantage take, An ass’s nowl® I fixéd on his head: Anon his Thisbe must be answeréd, And forth my mimic*! comes. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs,® many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun’s report, Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky; So, at his sight, away his fellows fly ; And, at our stamp, here o’er and o’er one falls ; He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, ' Made senseless things begin to do them wrong ; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; Some, sleeves,—some, hats,—from yielders all things catch. T led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated® there : When in that moment (so it came to pass), Titania wak’d, and straightway lov’d an ass. Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch’d* the Athenian’s eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? Puck. I took him sleeping,—that is finish’d too,— And the Athenian woman by his side ; That, when he wak’d, of force she must be ey’d. Enter Demetrius and Hernia. Obe. Stand close: this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. Oh, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Her. NowI but chide; but I should use thee ‘worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. Tf thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o’er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too. spelling of revel (reuel) became corrupted into “rule;”’ thence giving rise to the name of ‘the Lord of Misrule,’ one of the characters in the ancient festival sports. (26) Patches. Simpletons, fools. See Note 11, Act iii., “Tempest.” (27) Thick-skin. Used as we now use ‘ thick-skull,’ or ‘ thick- head.’ See Note 31, Act iv., “ Merry Wives of Windsor.” (28) Sort. Sometimes used by Shakespeare for a set, a lot, a ack; a collection, or assemblage. ‘‘ Barren” here means brain- ess, ignorant. (29) Presented. Represented, enacted, performed. (30) Nowl. Like ‘ noddle,’ this word comes from the Saxon knol, top, head. — (31) Mimic. An old name for an actor; the action requisite for a part in a play is called mimica in Italian. (32) Choughs. Sea-side crows. See Note 24, Act ii., “ Tempest.” In this line “sort’’ is used in the same sense as in the previous passage, explained in Note 28, Act iii. Here it means ‘ flock.’ (33) Translated. Transformed. (34) Latch’d. Smeared, anointed ; from the French lecher, to lick. The antique spelling of the Folio, ‘lacht, brings the word nearer to the source whence it is derived. A ‘lick’ was an old term for a wash or cosmetic, something smeared over the face; as we find A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. | | | | 339 The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me: would he have stol’n away From sleeping Hermia? T’ll believe as soon This whole earth may be bor’d; and that the moon May through the centre creep, and so displease Her brother’s noontide with the Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder’d him ; So should a murderer look,—so dead, so grim. Dem. So should the murder’d look; and so should I, Piere’d through the heart with your stern cruelty : Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. Her. What’s this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah! good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ? Dem. JI had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv’st me past the bounds Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never number’d among men! Oh, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake ! Durst thou have look’d upon him being awake, And hast thou kill’d him sleeping? Oh, brave touch !*° Could not a worm, an adder, do so much ? An adder did it; for with doubler* tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris’d mood : *7 I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood ; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. Her. I pray thee, tell me, then, that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore? Her. A privilege, never to see me more :— And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [ Exit. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for awhile I will remain. So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow*® For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; Which now in some slight measure it will pay, Tf for his tender* here I make some stay. [Lies down and sleeps. Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-loye’s sight: from the sentence—* My face, which you behold so flaming red, is done over with ladies’ licks.’’—Translation of Boccalini, 1626. ° (35) Touch. Sometimes used in Shakespeare’s time for trick, or stroke of mischief. \ (36) Doubler. Used in a twofold sense. See Note 58, Act i.e (37) You spend your passion on a mispris’d mood. “ Mispris’d’”’ is ‘mistaken. “Mood” is here used for ‘fit of anger,’ ‘wrathful emotion.’ Demetrius means that Hermia vents her passion in a resentment that is mistaken in its ground of reproach. (38) So sorrow’s heaviness doth, fc. There is a drowsy beauty about these lines, as the foiled lover lays him down on the ground and yields to slumber, that is in fine poetic keeping with the dreami- ness shed over the scenes in this Midsummer Night play. The way in which the human wanderers drop asleep, and seek rest no less for their dazed thoughts than for their tired limbs, is even extended to the fairy folk, where Titania, with a kind of irrelevance, se ys—‘‘ The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye ; ” as if the fairy queen herself were but half awake, and saw all things through a misty halo of dubious light. Thus does Shakespeare’s dramatic art make his productions harmonise in their every portion, the one with the other. (39) Tender. Used here substantively for ‘ offer,’ “advance to- wards being accepted.’ “ His’”’ refers to “sleep.”’ 340 Of thy misprision® must perforce ensue Some true-love turn’d, and not a false turn’d true. Puck, Then fate o’er-rules; that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer,*! With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear ;# By some illusion see thou bring her here : Ill charm his eyes against she do appear. Puck. I go, I go; look how I go,— Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow. Obe. Flower of this purple die, Hit with Cupid’s archery, Sink in apple of his eye! [Squeezes the flower on DemeErrius’s eyelids. When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky.— When thou wak’st, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. [ Hxit. Re-enter Puck. Puck. Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand ; And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover’s fee. Shall we their fond pageant see ? Lord, what fools these mortals be ! 4 Stand aside: the noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake. Then will two at once woo one,— That must needs be sport alone ;*# And those things do best please me That befall preposterously.* Obe. Puck. Enter LysanpER and HELENA. Lys. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears : Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true ? Hel. You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, oh, devilish-holy fray! These vows are Hermia’s: will you give her o’er? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: (40) Misprision. Mistake, misconception, error. See Note 22, Act iv., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (41) Fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer. ‘“‘Fancy-sick”’ here means “love-sick.’ See Note 23, Acti. ‘‘ Cheer” is used for countenance, looks, aspect ; from the Italian cera, face, mien, appearance. (42) Sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear. Shakespeare has more than one allusion to the belief that sighing affects the blood and the health. (43) What fools these mortals be! Instance of “these’’ used for generalising an observation. See Note 12, Act iv., “ Measure for Measure.’’ In the same way, a few lines before, Oberon says— “Flower of this purple dye;” the “this” being used expletively. (44) That must needs be sport alone. “ Alone”’ is here used idio.- matically, as the French use their word ‘ wnique ;’? meaning ‘solely excellent,’ ‘singularly good,’ ‘matchless.’ (45) Preposterously. Shakespeare uses this word more strictly in accordance with its original sense than we do now. It means here ‘perversely ;’ contrary to the true order and method of occurrences. (46) Tales. Here used with a play on the word; in its sense of trivial. stories, and in its sense of reckoned numbers, instead of actual articles. The two following quotations will serve to show this latter meaning of the word, which is rarely now thus used. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. {Acr ITT. Your vows to her and mé, put in two scales, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.“ Is. I had no judgment when to her I swore. Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o’er. Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. Dem. [Awaking.| O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine ! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. Oh, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus’ snow, Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold’st up thy hand: oh, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss ! * Hel. Oh, spite! Oh, hell! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment : If you were civil and knew courtesy, ‘You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so; To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals, and love Hermia ; And now both rivals, to mock Helena: A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes With your derision! none of noble sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul’s patience," all to make you sport. Iys. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; For you love Hermia ;—this you know I know: And here, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love, and will do to my death. Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia ; I will none: If e’er I lov’d her, all that love is gone. My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn’d,° And now to Helen is it home return’d, There to remain. Lys. Helen, it is not so. Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.>!— Look, where thy love comes ; yonder is thy dear. “Number may serve your purpose with the ignorant, who measure by tale, and not by weight.’’—Hooker. “Reasons of things are rather to be taken by weight than tale.’’—Oollier on “ Clothes.’’ (47) Taurus. A chain of mountains in Asia. (48) This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! It has been proposed to change “princess”’ to ‘impress.’ But “princess” here has the force of chief in beauty, pre-eminent in loveliness; as else- where Shakespeare uses a similar expression—“ It is the prince of palfreys.’’ Also, he again applies the term “seal ”’ to a lady’s hand, in “Anthony and Cleopatra,’ Act iii., sc. 2. (49) Extort a poor soul’s patience. This is a peculiar form of ex- pression, something like the one pointed out in Note 18, Act v., “ Much Ado about Nothing.” By “extort”’ her “patience,’’ Helena seems to mean ‘wrest or wring her patience from her until it turned to wrath.’ (50) My heart to her but as guest-wise sojowrn’d. The “to” in this sentence has been changed by some editors to ‘with;’ and that would be the form of expression in modern parlance. But the ‘‘ to”’ here seems to be used as in accordance with the “to” afterwards (“to her’’ and “to Helen’’); and, moreover, prepositions were often indifferently used, the one for the other, in Shakespeare’s time. Elsewhere he has “ sojourned with,” and “sojourned at.’’ (51) Aby it dear. ‘ Pay dearly for it.’ To “aby” isto compensate SSS whether thou wilt or no. Out of this wood do not desire to go: Titania. Thou shalt remain here = SSS SSS Ae | SSS ? e. 1 am a spirit of no common rat Act IIT. Scene I. i - 4 tart aad AS] i ¥ brits nk, ax: an seh "a, + ee es Se ries . ieabe RY TA azn ae ad er ed nr ch tia WM ; . c Wee Malye a nee Otis atest fovin sal; i y pre'y TH, Paks . wits) OE coda Jy Aer ates Pash a eas n si nh ave id sett ? & tain leita Pre Scene IT.] Re-enter HeRMtA. Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes ; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense.— Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ; Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ? Iys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? Her. What love could press Lysander from my side? Lys. Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena; who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes” and eyes of light. Why seek’st thou me? could not this make thee know, The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? Her. You speak not as you think: it cannot be. Hel. lo, she is one of this confederacy ! Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. Tnjurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid ! Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d To bait me with this foul derision ? Ts all the counsel that we two have shar’d, The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us,—oh, is all forgot? All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial’? gods, Have with our neelds created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem ; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; Two of the first, like coats*‘ in heraldry, Due but to one, and crownéd with one crest. And will you rent®® our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly : Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury. Her. Iam amazéd at your passionate words. I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me. Hel. 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, for, or purchase by suffering for; and has been derived from the ee a eee 52) Oes. akespeare uses this word to express things circular. See Note 58, Act v., “‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’” There if reason to believe, also, from Bacon’s employment of the word, and from its occurrence in D’Ewes’s ‘Journal of Queen Elizabeth’s Parlia- ments’ (where both the writers use it in connection with the word ‘spangs’ or ‘spangles’), that it meant some bright round ornament. The reference to the stars in the present passage— all yon fiery oes and eyes of light ’—affords an instance of Shake- speare’s dramatic art in marking time and place; just as pre- viously he makes Demetrius say—“ As bright, as clear, as yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.’ These allusions to the planet and the stars beaming overhead bring constantly present to the imagination that the speakers are in the open air, and in the warm A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 343 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? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate ; But miserable most, to love unlov’d ? This you should pity rather than despise. Her. I understand not what you mean by this. Hel. Ay, do, perséver, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back ; Wink each at 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.”® But, fare ye well: *tis partly mine own fault ; Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse : My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena! Hel. Oh, excellent! Her. Sweet, do not scorn her so. Dem. Tf she cannot entreat, I can compel. Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.— Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do: I swear by that which I will lose for thee, To prove him false that says I love thee not. Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do. Iys. Tf thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. Dem. Quick, come! Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this? Lys. Away, you Ethiop! Dem. No, no, sir :— Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow ; But yet come not: you are a tame man, go ! Lys. [To Hermta.] Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! Her. Why are you grown so rude? what change is this, Sweet love ? Lys. Thy love? Out, loathéd medicine ! Out, tawny Tartar, out! Oh, hated potion, hence ! Her. Do you not jest ? Hel. Yes, sooth; and so do you. Lys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. Dem. I would I had your bond, for I perceive ‘A weak bond holds you: [ll not trust your word. Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead ? Although I hate her, Pll not harm her so. summer night, with the blue and star-gemmed sky above the full- leaved trees. me. me (58) Artificial. Here used for ‘creative; deriving the word from its original source, Latin, artifex, an artist, a maker, a creator. Shakespeare, in his special and accurately-distinctive employment of words derived from classical sources, himself refutes the absurd allegation that he had shallow knowledge of Greek and Latin. (54) Two of the first, like coats, ce. These lines have reference toan heraldic technicality; Helena meaning that their two bodies having but one heart between them, are like the coats of arms of a married couple, which are emblazoned as two, yet are surmounted but by one crest. : (55) Rent. Often used formerly for ‘ rend. . (56) Argument. Subject for mockery. See Note 37, Acti., “Much Ado about Nothing.” 344 Her. What, can you do me greater harm than hate ? Hate me! wherefore? Oh, me! what news, my love? Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander ? I am as fair now as I was erewhile. Since night you lov’d me; yet since night you left me: Why, then you left me,—oh, the gods forbid !— In earnest, shall I say ? Lys. Ay, by my life; And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt ; Be certain, nothing truer ; *tis no jest That I do hate thee, and love Helena. Her. Oh,me!—you juggler! you canker-blossom |*7 You thief of love! what, have you come by night And stolen my love’s heart from him ? Hel. Fine, i’faith ! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness ? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ? Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you! Her. Puppet! why, so; ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urg’d her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d with him.— And are you grown so high in his esteem, Because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak ; How lowam I? Iam not yet so low But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me: I was never curst ;*8 I have no gift at all in shrewishness ; Iam a right maid for my cowardice : Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, Because she’s something lower than myself, That I can match her. Her. Lower! hark, again. Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels,» never wrong’d you; Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He follow’d you; for love I follow’d him; But he hath chid me hence, and threaten’d me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back, And follow you no farther: let me go: You see how simple and how fond I am. (57) Canker-blossom. The noxious creature that infests flowers, eating out their heart. See Note 55, Act ii. (58) Curst. Shrewish, spiteful. See Note 1, Act ii., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (59) Counsels. Used here for secrets, confidences. In two other passages of this play, Shakespeare uses the word “ counsel ”’ in the sense of interchanged confidence, or secrets confided to another. Hermia says to Helena:— “Tn the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet.” Act i., sc. 1. And Helena says to Hermia:— “Ts all the counsel that we two have shared,” &¢. Act iii., sc. 2. (60) Fond. Often used by Shakespeare and writers of his time a a ee A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. [Acr III. Her. Why, get you gone: who is’t that hinders ou? Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. Her. What, with Lysander ? Hel. With Demetrius. Lys. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. Dem. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. Hel. Oh, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd ! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce. Her. Little again! nothing but low and little !— Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? Let me come to her, Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering kfiot-grass made ;*! You bead, you acorn. Dem. You are too officious In her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone: speak not of Helena ; Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. Lys. Now she holds me not ; Now follow, if thou dar’st, to try whose right,— Of thine or mine,“—is most in Helena. Dem. Follow? nay, V’ll go with thee, cheek by jole. [Hxeunt LysanpER and Demerrivs. Her. You, mistress, all this coil® is “long of you: Nay, go not back. Hel. I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst® company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray ; My legs are longer though, to run away. [ Haut. Her, Iam amaz’d, and know not what to say. | Hwit. Obe. This is thy negligence: still thou mistak’st, Or else committ’st thy knaveries wilfully. Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garments he had on ? And so far blameless proves my enterprise, That I have ’nointed an Athenian’s eyes ; And so far am I glad it so did sort,®7 As this their jangling I esteem a sport. Obe. Thou see’st these lovers seek a place to fight : Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; for ‘foolish;’ here combinedly employed in this sense, and in its more usual one of dotingly affectionate. (61) You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made. “ Minimus”’ isa being of the smallest size. “ Knot-grass’’ is a low-growing herb, and was believed to possess the property of stinting and stopping the growth of children. See Note 51, Act ii, “ Muck (62) Intend. Used for ‘pretend.’ Ado about Nothing.” _ beet Thow shalt aby it. “Thou shalt pay for it. See Note 51 ct iii. (64) Whose right, of thine or mine. A form of phrase used by Shakespeare. See Note 2, Act ii., “The Tempest.” 3 (65) Coil. Disturbance, turmoil. See Note 23, Act i., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (66) Curst. Shrewish, spiteful. , (67) Sort. Fall out, happen, occur. See Note 30, Act iv., “Much Ado about Nothing.” ( | Screnz IT.] The starry welkin® cover thou anon With drooping fog, as black as Acheron ;® And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another’s way. Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ; And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; And from each other look thou lead them thus, A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 345 Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, Til to my queen and beg her Indian boy; And then I will her charméd eye release From monster’s view, and all things shall be peace. Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, For night’s swift dragons” cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora’s harbinger ; At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there. WU f YY Lysander. Till o’er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep : Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye ; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might, And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision ; And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,” With league, whose date till death shall never end. (68) Welkin. Sky. See Note 11, Acti., “ The Tempest.” (69) Acheron. One of the rivers of the infernal regions. (70) Wend. An old form of ‘go.’ See Note 61, Act iv., “ Measure for Measure.” (71) Night’s swift aragons. The car of Night was fabled to be drawn by dragons or winged serpents; which, sleeping with their eyes open, give the idea of being ever watchful. : (72) In cross-ways and floods have burial. The ghosts of those who were buried in cross-roads, and of those who were drowned without the rights of sepulture having been bestowed on their bodies, were 44 T had no judgment when to her I swore. Helena. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o’er. Act III. Scene II. Troop home to churchyards: damnéd spirits all, That in cross-ways and floods have burial,” Already to their wormy beds are gone ; For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They wilfully themselves exile from light, And must for aye consort with black-brow’d night. Obe. But we are spirits of another sort: I with the Morning’s love” have oft made sport ; And, like a forester, the groves may tread, Even till the eastern gate,” all fiery-red, supposed to be condemned to wander for a hundred years; and all wandering ghosts were believed to return to their “wormy beds”’ at the approach of dawn. : (73) The Morning’s love. Cephalus, a prince of Thessaly, and a famous huntsman. He was married to Procris; but the goddess Aurora cast an eye of favour upon him, and strove to make him false to his marriage-vows. For a most tasteful version of ‘this beautiful classic story see Leigh Hunt’s “Indicator,” No. 27, 12th April, 1820. (74) Even till the eastern gate, fc. In this exquisite passage 346 Opening on Neptune with fair blesséd beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: We may effect this business yet ere day. Puck. Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down: IT am fear’d in field and town: Goblin, lead them up and down.” Here comes one. [ Hat. Re-enter LysanDER. Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now. Puck. Here, villain; drawn and ready. art thou? Lys. I will be with thee straight. Puck. Follow me, then, To plainer ground. | Kart Lysanper, as following the voice. Where Re-enter DremeErTRIvs. Dem. Lysander! speak again. Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled ? Speak! in some bush? where dost thou hide thy head ? Puck, Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look’st for wars, And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child ; Pll whip thee with a rod: he is defil’d That draws a sword on thee. Dem. Yea, art thou there? Puck. Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. [ Exeunt. Re-enter LysanpDER. Lys. He goes before me and still dares me on: When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter-heel’d than I: I follow’d fast, but faster he did fly ; That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me.” [Lies down.] Come, thou gentle day ! For if but once thou show me thy grey light, PU find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [ Sleeps. Re-enter Puck and DremeErtrivs. Puck. Ho, ho, ho!” not? Dem. Abide me, if thou dar’st; for well I wot™ Coward, why com’st thou Oberon has to state that he and his fairy people are privileged beings, uncompelled to retire with the night, and able to range in the broad, blessed light of day: but with what poetic gusto is it told; with what grace of allusion to the sylvan loveliness of Grecian mythological beliefs; with what gorgeous colouring of natural de- pore. flooding the lines with blended rosy, golden, and sea-green ues! (75) Goblin, lead them up and down. Tt has been suggested that ‘these four lines are possibly a quotation from some lost ballad respecting Puck and his pranks,’ since ‘he would hardly address himself as “Goblin.” ’ But the “I” in the lines shows them to be spoken by Puck himself; and, moreover, we find “Goblin” to be a A that he approves, from what the fairy says to him (Act ii., 8c. — “Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck.” A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. [Acr Siig Thou runn’st before me, shifting every place, And dar’st not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou now? Puck. Come hither: I am here. Dem. Nay, then, thou mock’st me. Thou shalt *by” this dear, If ever I thy face by daylight see: Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me To measure out my length on this cold bed. By day’s approach look to be visited. [Ives down and sleeps. Re-enter HeLena. Hel. Oh, weary night! oh, long and tedious night, Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight, From these that my poor company detest : And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow’s eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Lies down and sleeps. Puck, Yet but three? Come one more; Two of both kinds make up four. Here she comes, curst®® and sad :— Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad. Re-enter Herta. Her. Never so weary, never so in woe; Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers; I can no farther crawl, no farther go; My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! [Lies down and sleeps. On the ground Sleep sound : I'll apply To your eye, Gentle lover, remedy. [Squeezing the herb on LysanpER’s eyelids. When thou wak’st, Thou tak’st True delight In the sight Of thy former lady’s eye: And the country proverb known, That every man should take his own, In your waking shall be shown : Jack shall have Jill ;*! Naught shall go ill; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. [ Hatt. Puck. (76) Fallen am I in dark uneven w2zy, and here will rest me. See Note 88, Act iii. (77) Ho, ho, ho! This is the written form of the mocking laugh ascribed to Puck in the old ballads describing his pranks ; and_also assigned to the devil in the ancient stage-mysteries. Shakespeare puts “Oh, ho, Oh, ho!” into Caliban’s mouth also, i feng eee him utter his malignant scoff against Prospero’s aughter. (78) Wot. Know. See Note 40, Act ii., “Merry Wives of Wind- BOL (79) ’By. Aby. See Note 51, Act iii. (80) Curst. Here used for vexed. (81) Jack shall have Jill. An old proverbial expression, signifying that each couple of lovers shall pair off suitably. Biron alludes to it Mba a says—“Jack hath not Jill.” ‘‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost,” ct v., sc. 2. eee eee Scenz I.] A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 347 ACRE: SCENE I.—The wood. lLysanpER, DEMETRIUS, Hetena, and Hermta still lying asleep. Enter Trranta and Borrom; Pras-BLossom, CoBwEpR, Moru, Musrarp-sEeED, and other Fairies attending ; Oxsrron behind unseen. Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy," And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. Bot. Where’s Peas-blossom ? Peas. Ready. Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom.—Where’s Monsieur Cobweb ? Cob. Ready. Bot. Monsieur Cobweb, good monsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mon- sieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur; and, good mon- sieur, have a care the loney-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior.—Where’s Monsieur Mustard-seed ? Mus. Ready. Bot. Give me your neif,? Monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy,’ good monsieur. Mus. What’s your will? Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cava- lery Cobweb‘ to scratch. I must to the barber’s, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love ? Bot. TI have a reasonable good ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones.’ Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desir’st to eat. Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch (1) Coy. To fondle, caress, smooth, pat, stroke. The word is used in this sense by other writers besides Shakespeare, and seems to be derived from ‘ decoy,’ to allure, to treat with blandishment. (2) Neif. A North-country word for ‘ fist.’ (3) Leave your courtesy. ‘Cease bowing.’ These reminders to persons bent on over-long salutation seem to have been frequent in old times of ceremony and deference. See Note 35, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” . (4) Cavalery Cobweb. Bottom not only corrupts ‘ cavalero’ into cavalery,” but, in his conceited way of trying to prove himself equal to any part he is suddenly called upon to fill, confounds one fairy s name with the other; speaking of “Cobweb”’ instead_of ae neces > whom he has just before ordered to scratch his ead. _ (5) The tongs and the bones. There is a stage direction here in the Folio, ‘Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke ;’ showing that it was a known instrument, thus used, and pleased other country ears besides Bottom’s long ones. ‘The bones” were bits of bone clacked between the fingers; and bones w..ce subsequently used in the ‘marrow-bones and cleavers’ sometimes played at butchers’ weddings. The complacency with which the human Ass plumes himself upon his musical ear is delightfully characteristic. (6) Bottle of hay. ‘Bundle of hay ;’ from French, botte. ‘ 2 An exposition of sleep. Bottom’s grandeur for ‘a disposition © sleep.’ (8) Be all ways away. ‘Depart in every direction upon your several offices;’ upon those she described in the lists beginning your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay:° good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. Tita. Ihave a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep’ come upon me. Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.—Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away.°— [Hxeunt Fairies. So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist ;° the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. Oh, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [They sleep. Enter Puck. Obe. [Advancing.] Welcome, good Robin. See’st thou this sweet sight ? Her dotage now I do begin to pity: For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet savours!’ for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her, and fall out with her ; For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow’rets’ eyes, Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had at my pleasure taunted her, And she in mild terms begg’d my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child ; Which straight she gave me; and her fairies sent! To bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes : And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain ; “Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds,’’ Act ii., se. 3; and “The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,”’ Act iii., se. 1. (9) So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle gently entwist. Not only from a previous passage in this play (see Note 51, Act ii.) does Shakespeare apparently use “ woodbine” for one and the same plant as “honeysuckle,” but in “Much Ado about Nothing” Beatrice’s place of concealment is described as “the pleached power, where honeysuckles forbid the sun to enter,’ and afterwards it is called “the woodbine coverture.’’ Therefore, it should seem as if in the present passage he meant to say the woodbine entwists the honeysuckle (as one vine may entwine its neighbour vine) ; or, in other words, entwists its other self. If, however, a comma be placed after “woodbine”’ and after “honeysuckle” (as in the Folio), the one will be, parenthetically, a repetition of the other ; and both will make the line read on as a following up of “I will wind thee in my arms,” while the verb “ entwist”’ is used as com- plete in itself. (10) Seeking sweet savours. Fisher’s quarto has ‘favours,’ which some editors give instead of “savours,” the Folio word. Much is to be said for the adoption of either word; but “savours’’ seems more in accordance with the passage that follows, where “their own disgrace’ has the effect of pointing to the drops, as “ savours.”” (11) Her fairies sent. In some editions “fairies” is printed ‘fairy,’ asin the Folio; but the word “ bear,” that follows, gives the idea of more than one fairy carrying the human “ changeling child.” There is a similar substitution of “ fairies’’ for ‘fairy’ at the com- mencement of Act ii., sc. 2, in the sentence, “ Fairies, skip hence.” in er a 348 That he, awaking when the other” do, May all to Athens back again repair, And think no more of this night’s accidents, But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the fairy queen. [Touching her eyes with a herb. Be as thou wast wont to be; See as thou wast wont to see: Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower™ Hath such force and blesséd power. Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen. Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamour’d of an ass. Obe. There lies your love. Tita. How came these things to pass ? Oh, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! Obe. Silence awhile.‘ — Robin, take off this head.— Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! [Still music. Puck. Now, when thou wak’st, with thine own fool’s eyes peep. Obe. Sound, music! [Still music.]—Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity.'® There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark : I do hear the morning lark. Then, my queen, in silence sad,” Trip we after the night’s shade: We the globe can compass soon, - Swifter than the wandering moon. Come, my lord; and in our flight, Tell me how it came this night, Obe. Tita. (12) Other. Sometimes used, in Shakespeare’s time, where we now use the word ‘ others.’ (13) Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower. ‘‘ Dian’s bud” is the “an- other herb’’ mentioned by Oberon, Act ii., sc. 2, which po:s2sses power to act as an antidote or counter-charm against the spells worked by means of “ love-in-idleness,”’ or “ Cupid’s flower.” (14) Silence awhile. Oberon enjoins silence while the spell is being performed which is to remove the ass’s head from Bottom’s shoulders. See Note 10, Act iv., “Tempest.” (15) Still music. This stage direction is printed in the Folio ‘music still;’ but it probably means such soft (or still) music as shall charm sleep, and Oberon reiterates the command that he has desired his queen to give. (16) Bless it to all fair prosperity. The Folio prints ‘ posterity’ instead of “‘ prosperity ;’’ which is the word in Fisher’s quarto, and which accords with the line in Act ii., sc. 2—“ To give their bed joy and prosperity.” (17) In silence sad. ‘In serious, grave, or solemn silence.’ Note 28, Acti., “'T'wo Gentlemen of Verona.”’ (18) Observation. Here used for observance; the rites performed in celebration of May-morning. (19) Vaward. A word formed from ‘van’ and ‘ ward;’ meaning fore part or early portion. (20) Mark the musical confusion of hounds and echo in conjunction. These lines, and the following magnificent passage, show Shake- speare’s magic art in flooding his verse with beauty of sound as well as of colour. See Note 74, Act iii. (21) Chiding. Shakespeare sometimes, as here, uses this word with excellent effect to express a peculiarly characterised sound. (22) So musical a discord. Shakespeare, fine and true in his musical perceptions as in all others, evidently felt the intense See A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. [Act IV. That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. [Exeunt. Horns sound within. Enter Tursnvus, Hrppotyra, Earus, and train. The. Go, one of you, find out the forester ; For now our observation ® is perform’d ; And since we have the vaward” of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds : Uncouple in the western valley; let them go:— Despatch, I say, and find the forester.— [Exit an Attendant. We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction.” Hip. Iwas with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay’d the bear With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear Such gallant chiding ;*! for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem’d all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord,” such sweet thunder. The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,”8 So flew’d, so sanded ;*4 and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee’d, and dew-lapp’d like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match’d in mouth like bells,” Hach under each. Ww =e = ZED) Y Le “poh ELEN poi “WE Titania. My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamour’d of an ass. Oberon. There lies your love. Act IV. Scene J. 45 Scenz I] And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy’s images, And grows to something of great constancy ;° But, howsoever, strange’ and admirable. cas The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Enter Lysanper, Demetrius, Hermia, and HeLena. Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts! Lys. More than to us Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we have, ; To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper® and bed-time ? Where is our usual manager of mirth ? What revels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ? Call Philostrate. Phil. Here, mighty Thesetis. The. Say, what abridgment® have you for this evening ? What mask? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight ? Phil. [Giving a paper.] There is a brief! how many sports are ripe : Make choice of which your highness will see first. The. (Reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be surg By an Athenian minstrel to the harp. We'll none of that: that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules.'!— | Reads. | The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, ‘Tearing the Thracian singer” in their rage. That is an old device; and it was play’d When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.— [ Reads. | The thrice three Muses mourning” for the death Of Learning, late deceas’d in beggary. That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.— [ Reads r A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth. Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! Taat is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.!+ How shall we find the concord of this discord ? Phil. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, naturalness to the dialogue: The speaker is carried away, by the impulse of his thought and nature of his subject, into lofty ex- ression, ranging somewhat apart from the matter in hand; then, eeling this, he brings back the conversation to the point of the last night’s visions and the lovers’ rélated adventures by the two lines in question. (6) Constancy. Used for ‘ consistency ;’ in its combined senses of congruity and substantiality. (7) Strange. Shakespeare uses this word with forcible and ex- tensive meaning. Here, and in the opening lines of the scene, he uses it for marvellous, out of nature, anomalous. (8) After-supper. The “after-supper’’ was to the supper what the dessert is to the dinner. Florio, in his Italian Dictionary, translates the word pocenio by “a banquet after supper, arere- supper. (9) Abridgment. A brief performance; suitable for making the hours pass quickly. ; (10) Brief. Shakespeare uses this word for what we now call a note or memorandum. Sir Hugh Evans (“‘ Merry Wives of Wind- sor,” Act i., se. 1) says, “I will make a prief of it in my note-book;”’ and the word occurs in “ Anthony and Cleopatra;’’ Act v:; se: 2, with exactly the same meaning as it bears here—a note containing a short account, list, or enumeration. (11) My kinsman Hercules. Shakespeare found the statement that Theseus and Hercules were related to each other in North’s “ Plutarch:’’—“‘ They were near kinsmen, being cousins removed by the mother’s side. For Aithra was the daughter of Pitheus, and A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 355 Which is as brief as I have known a play; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes it tedious ; for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted: And tragical, my noble lord, it is ; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which, when I saw rehears’d, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed. The. What are they that do play it? Phil. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never labour’d in their minds till now; And now have toil’d their unbreath’d memories With this same play, against your nuptial. The. And we will hear it: Phil. No, my noble lord; It is not for you: I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch’d!° and conn’d with eruel pain, To do you service. The. I will hear that play ; For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in 1—and take your places, ladies. [Hait PiLosTRATE. Hip. TI love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged, And duty in his service perishing. The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. Hip. He says they can do nothing in this kind. The: The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be to take what they mistake : And what poor duty cannot do, Noble respect takes it in might, not iterit.”7 Where I have come, great clerks have purposéd To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practis’d accent in their fears, And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off; Not paying me a welcome. ‘Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I pick’d a welcome ; And in the modesty of fearful duty Alemena (the mother of Hercules) was the daughter of Lysidices, the which was half-sister to Pitheus, both children of Pelops and of his wife Hippodamia.”’ (12) The Thracidn singer. Orpheus, who, in grief for the loss o his wife Eurydice, secluded himself from female society, and thereby so offended the women of Thrace that, while telebrating the orgies of Bacchus, they attacked him, tore him to pieces, and threw his head into the river Hebrus, where the faithful dead mouth still niurmured, “ Eurydice! Eurydice!” until finally borne away into the Aigean Sea. (13) The thrice three Muses mourning, &c. This Has been con- jectured to refer to Spenser’s “Tears of the Muses,’ published in 1591. (14) Hot ice and wondrous strange snow. It has been proposed to alter “ strange”’ itt this passage to ‘scorchitig, ‘strong,’ ‘seething,’ ‘swarthy,’ &c., as affording mGre palpable antithesis, in accordance with “hot ice;”’ but “strange,” as Shakespeare occasionally uses it (in the sense of ‘anomalous,’ ‘uhnatural;’ ‘ prodigious’); presents suificient image of contrast in itself. See Note 7, Act v: (15) Unbreath’d. Unexercised, unpractised. Shakespeare else- where uses “ breathing” for ‘ exercise.’ (16) In thetr intents, extremely stretch’d, &c. The word “ intents” here not only means intentions, attempts; but it includes the object the men intend to attempt: therefore their faculties are “stretch’d’’ to the utmost, and their parts in the play have been painfully “conn’d” or studied. See Note 54, Act i. (17) Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. A condensed way of 356 I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, In least speak most, to my capacity. Re-enter PHILOSTRATE. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. [Acr V. The actors are at hand; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know. The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.*! Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt ; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it Scene II. Phil. So please your grace, the Prologue is | is not enough to speak, but to speak true. address’d.1® Hip. Indeed he hath played on his prologue = i ii a = y re) A | | IN Quince. Let us hear, aval Beaton Bottom. Not aword of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Act LY, Tie. Let him approach. like a child on a recorder ;* a sound, but not in [Flourish of trumpets.” Enter Prologue.” Prova er yns offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider, then, we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not here. That you should here repent you, saying, ‘A generous regard for humble endeavour accepts it for what it might have been, had ability equalled eagerness to please, and not for its merit.’ (18) Address’d. Prepared; ready. See Note 11, Act ii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (19) Flourish of trumpets. Tt was a custom of the stage formerly to precede the prologue by a flourish of trumpets. (20) Enter Prologue. The Folio prints this stage direction thus— * Enter the Prologue, Quince.” It may therefore be presumed that Peter Quince delivered the lines, and perhaps also wrote them, as we find Bottom (Act iv., sc. 1) saying that he will “ get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream.’’ Accordingly, we may imagine that he was author as well as manager to the company. government.”* The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Enter Prramus and Tuispr, Watt, MoonsHine, and Lion, as in dumb-show. Pro. Gentiles, perchance you wonder at this show; But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know ; This beauteous lady, Thisby is certain?! (21) This fellow doth not stand upon points. Theseus ridicules the mispunctuation in the delivery of the prologue ; which Shakespeare has taken pains to mark. It was a favourite joke with authors of that time, to give a perfectly contrary sease to the clauses of a speech by wrong stopping. (22) Recorder. A small flute or flagelet. See Note 5, Act v., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (23) Not in government. ‘Not a regular tune, as when produced by practised fingers.’ Shakespeare uses the word in this sense where he makes Hamlet say, while urging Guildenstern to play aes ae recorder—‘ Govern these ventages with your finger and thumb.’ (24) Certafn. The wrong accentuation of this word to produce a — Scene I.] This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder ; And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn T'o meet at Ninus’ tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,” The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright ; A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 357 The. I wonder if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may when many asses do. Wall. In this same interlude it doth befall, That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through whieh the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisver often very secretly. Luck. And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,” Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby’s mantle slain : Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,” He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast ; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse, while here they do remain. [Exeunt Pro., Tut1s., Lion, and Moon. line that shall rhyme with “plain,” lends additional likelihood to the theory of Peter Quince’s authorship. (25) Which Lion hight by name. “Hight” is ‘called,’ ‘entitled.’ See Note 21, Acti., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” Here, Theobald altered the sentence to ‘which by name Lion hight,’ in order that it might form a triple rhyme with the two next lines, ending with “night” and “affright.” But the faulty rhyme may be another intentional indication of Peter Quince’s style; just as, farther on, we find— “ These lily lips, This cherry nose,”’ where “lips” was altered to ‘brows’ by Theobald, for the same 4 If we shadows have offended, Think but this (and all is mended), That you have but slumber’d here, While these visions did appear. Act V. Scene LI. This lime, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, | Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better ? Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse,** my lord. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! reason. Moreover, even setting aside the theory of Quince’s being the author of the interlude, several instances of non-rhymes may be pointed out in Shakespeare among rhymed lines. See Note 12, Act v., Merry Wives of Windsor.” oi ; (26) Her mantle she did fall. The verb “ fall’’ is here used actively, for ‘let fall.’ 4 (27) With blade, with bloody, &c. This line and the next afford an example of Shakespeare’s satire upon the prevailing mode of alli- teration. See Note 41, Act iv., “Love's Labour’s Lost.” (28) The wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse. By the way in which we find the expressions “ partition ” and ‘partition wall employed by Hooker and other controversialists, it seems probable 358 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. Enter Pyramus. P yr. Oh, grim-look’d night! Oh, night with hue so black ! Oh, night, which ever art when day is not! Oh, night! oh, night! alack, alack, alack ! I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot !— And thou, oh, wall, oh, sweet, oh, lovely wall, That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine! Thou wall, oh, wall, oh, sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! [Wau holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! But what see I? No Thisby do I see. Oh, wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! Curs’d be thy stones for thus deceiving me! The. ‘The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. “ Deceiv- ing me” is Thisby’s cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you.—Yonder she comes. Enter Tuisse. This. Oh, wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. yr. see a voice: now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby’s face.— Thisby ! This. My love! thou art my love, I think. P yr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s grace; And, like Limander,” am I trusty still. This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. 1B yr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. Pyr. Oh, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! This. I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all. Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway ? This. Tide life, *tide death, I come without delay. [Hxeunt Prramus and Turspe. Wall. ‘Thus have I, Wall, my part dischargéd so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. [ Exit. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear®’ without warning. Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men.— Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion.*! Enter Lion and Moonsutne. Inon. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rovgh in wildest rage doth roar. that the word was used much in the same sense that we now use “sect;’ and thus Demetrius’s punning rejoinder would be compre- hensible, as meaning—‘ This is the most ingenious propounder of doctrine that ever I heard hold forth, (29) Limander. The players blunder Leander and Hero into “TLimander’’ and “ Helen;” as they do Cephalus and Procris into “ Shafalus”’ and “ Procrus.”’ (30) When walls are so wilful to hear. Alluding to the proverb, “Walls have ears.’ (31) A moon and ation. “ Moon’? is printed ‘man’ in the Folio. Theobald made the correction. (32) No lion fell. This, in the Folio, is printed ‘A lion fell;’ which has been altered to ‘A lion’s fell:’ but we find from the conversation at Act ili., sc. 1, that it is expressly agreed “ another prologue must tell he is not a lion;” and that Snug himself must [ Acr Vv. Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am No lion fell,* nor else no lion’s dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, ’twere pity of my life. The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con- science. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e’er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. ‘True; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose. The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour ; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moon. This lantern doth the hornéd moon present ;— Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are in- visible within the circumference. Moon. This lantern doth the hornéd moon present ;— Myself the man i’ the moon do seem to be. The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i’ the moon? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.*8 Hip. I am a-weary of this moon: would he would change! The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. Lys. Proceed, Moon. ; Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this’ thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. Enter THtspE. This. This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love? Inon. [Roaring.| Ob 5 [THIsBE runs off: Dem. Well roared, Lion. The. Well run, Thisbe. Hip. Well shone, Moon.—Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. [The Lion tears Tutspn’s mantle, and exit. The. Well moused, Lion.** Dem. And then came Pyramus. Lys. And so the lion vanished.** Enter Prramus. Pyr. Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,® I trust to taste of truest Thisby’s sight. speak through the lion’s neck, and assure the ladies that he is “no such thing.” He therefore now tells them that he is neither lion nor lioness, and not a fell (or cruel) lion; as he goes on to inform them that he comes not “in strife,’ and as the auditors go on to say that he is anything but fierce. (33) In snuff. A pun; alluding to the burnt wick of the candle, and to the idiox ‘to take it in snuff,’ signifying ‘to take it in anger.’ See Note 51, Act v., ‘“‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (34) Well moused, Lion. To “‘mouse’’ is to tear in pieces, as a cat tears a mouse. (35) And so the lion vanished. Some of the commentators com- plain that this passage is obscure; but to us it seems to follow naturally upon Demetrius’s speech. The lion, seeing Pyramus coming, vanishes. (36) Streams. The Folio and Quartos all give ‘beames’ here; Scene IT. | A MIDSUMMER But stay,—oh, spite !— But mark, poor knight, What dreadful dole is here ! Eyes, do you see ? How can it be? Oh, dainty duck! oh, dear! Thy mantle good, What, stain’d with blood ? Approach, ye Furies fell! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum ; *7 Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.* Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. P. yr. Oh, wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame ? Since lion vile hath here deflower’d my dear: Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame That liv’d, that lov’d, that lik’d, that look’d with cheer. Come, tears, confound ; Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus,— Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop:— Thus die I, thus, thus, thus! Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light! Moon, take thy flight !— ‘ [Hxit MoonsHIneE. [Stabs himself. Now die, die, die, die, die. [ Dies. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover ? The. She will find him by starlight.—Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. Re-enter TuisseE. Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which - Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better ; he for a man, she for a woman. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet :—- Asleep, my love ? This. What, dead, my dove ? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, / This cherry nose,*? These yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone: : Lovers, make moan; His eyes were green as leeks. and the second Folio prints ‘streams.’ Mr. Charles Knight plausibly suggested “gleams,’ as maintaining the alliteration in the me 3 age s ee Seodile ae on the abounding s’s in the ; * aoe o k Pete y to make it in keeping with the doggrel (37) Cut thread and thrum. The “thrum” isthe end of a weaver’s warp. See Note 10, Act iv., “ Merry Wives of Windsor.” Probably thread and thrum” was used similarly to ‘warp and woof;’ there- fore, cut “thread and thrum’’ would be a desperate phrase, equivalent to ‘ cut the fabric of life on all sides.’ (38) This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. The humour of this has been missed by those who have proposed another reading of the passage. Theseus re- duces Bottom’s pathos into naught, by coupling it with a source of grief abundantly sufficient in itself to cause eee NIGHT’S DREAM. 359 O Sisters Three, Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk; Lay them in gore, Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word: Come, trusty sword ; Come, blade, my breast imbrue: And, farewell, friends,— Thus Thisby ends,— Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Stabs herself. [ Dies. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too. Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance” between two of our company ? The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe’s garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably dis- charged. But, come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. [A dance. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve :-— Lovers, to bed; *tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch’d. This palpable gross‘! play hath well beguil’d The heavy gait of night.—Sweet friends, to bed.— A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revels and new jollity. [ Hxeunt. CHEN Env LeL: Enter Puox. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon ; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores All with weary task fordone.# Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that les in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Hvery one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide: (39) This cherry nose. See Note 25, Act v._ ; (40) A Bergomask dance. A dance called in Italian a Bergomasco, because it was originally danced by the Bergamese, peasants of Bergamo, a province of Venetia. It is worthy of remark that Shakespeare has kept up the character of Bottom to the very last. He alone, of all the clownish actors, ventures to address the audience in his own person; he does it twice: first, he answers Theseus himself and flatly contradicts him—“ No, in truth, sir, he should not,” &c.; and again plumps in with “No, I assure you; under taking to correct everybody, and set to rights everything. ‘ (41) Gross. Here used in the sense of clumsy, lumbering ; which accords well with “the heavy gait of night,’’—Shakespeare some- times using the word “heavy’’ to express slow-paced, tardy. (42) Fordone. Overcome; what we should now, in common par- lance, call ‘ over-done,’ ‘spent,’ ‘tired out.’ A MIDSUMMER And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate’s* team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic: not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow’d house: Iam sent, with broom, before, To sweep the dust behind the door.“ Enter Oprron and Trranta, with their train. Obe. Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire : Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier ; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly. First, rehearse your song by rote, To each word a warbling note : Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. [Song and dance. Tita. Obe. Now, until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blesséd be ; And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three Kver true in loving be; And the blots of Nature’s hand Shall not in their issue stand ; (43) The triple Hecate. The goddess so-called, because she bore three names: Luna, in heaven; Diana, on earth; and Hecate, in the infernal regions. (44) With broom, before, to sweep the dust behind the door. ‘From’ must be understood between “ dust” and “behind;” in the ellip- tical style used by Shakespeare. Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, was represented in old prints, bearing a broom over his shoulder; and the fairies were supposed especially to favour household cleanliness. See Note 14, Act v., “ Merry Wives of Windsor,’’ and the previous speech, ending with “ Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery.”’ _ (45) Ever shall in safety rest, and the owner of it blest. These two lines have been variously altered; but they seem to us to afford one NIGHT’S DREAM. Never mole, hare-lip, nor sear, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despiséd in nativity, Shall upon their children be. With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait; And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace : liver shall in safety rest, And the owner of it blest.* Trip away ; Make no stay ; Meet me all by break of day. [Exzeunt OpEron, Trranta, and train. Puck. If we shadows have offended, Think but this (and all is mended), That you have but slumber’d here, While these visions did appear.” And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend. And, as I’m an honest Puck, If we have unearnéd luck“ Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue, We will make amends ere long ; Else the Puck a liar call: So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands,” if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. [ Hatt. of the many instances where Shakespeare has an understood nomi- nativeinasentence. Itisasif the line were printed—“ Ever shall ’t in safety rest.” (46) While these visions did appear. Even to the epilogue does Shakespeare maintain the dream-like character of this enchanting play, which he has so well entitled. (47) Unearnéd luck. ‘Good fortune beyond what our merits deserved.’ (48) The serpent’s tongue. Puck’s natural mode of expressing the hisses that may be dreaded from the audience. . (49) Give me your hands. Robin Goodfellow’s way of begging hi+ hearers to applaud. SES SOOOnnnay We “Tr CHAN T. f MICE AWA SEAS ES ESS WVU Wh WU WE = ~ et 46 DRAMATIS PERSONA. —\+o+—__ Dorr or VENICE. ieee Or ELORIOCD, i suitors to Portia. RINCE OF ARRAGON, Antonio, the Merchant of Venice. Bassanto, his kinsman and friend. Sonanro, SALARINO, {tien to Antonio and Bassanio. GRATIANO, Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. Suy1ock, a Jew. Tusa, a Jew, his friend. Lavncetor Gozo, a clown, servant to Shylock, after- wards to Bassanio. Oup Gosso, father to Launcelot. Lronarpo, servant to Bassanio. BaLTHazaR, : servants to Portia. STEPHANO, Portia, a rich heiress. Nerissa, her waiting-maid. Jessica, daughter to Shylock. Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants. Scene—Partly at Vunicr, and partly at Butmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. —+o+—_ Za Ge Deal: SCENE I.—Ventce. A street. Enter Antonio, SaLaRino, and Soianto.? Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me; you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff ’*tis made of, whereof it is born, T am to learn; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself. Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; There, where your argosies* with portly sail,— Like signiors and rich burghers® on the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,— Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That curt’sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. Solan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would (1) The earliest printed copies known of “Tum MrrcHant or Venicz ” are two—both in quarto, and both published in 1600 ; and it appears as the ninth play in the 1623 Folio. But there is record that it was entered on the register of the Stationers’ Company, on the 22nd July, 1598; and there is reason to believe that it was acted by the fellowship of actors of whom Shakespeare was one, in the year 1594. The poet was then thirty years of age, in the very prime of intellectual vigour, and we can well imagine this fine play to have been the product of his pen at that period of his life. There is a strength of purpose in it as a drama, a tone of experience in its views of men and life, a masterly treatment of character, and, withal, a wealth of romance about its story, that mark it for a composition on his arrival at manly maturity. The sources of the double plot—that of the bond, and of the caskets—are to be traced in the “Gesta Romanorwm;”’ and very distinct vestiges of the bond story are to be found in the “ Pecorone”’ of Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, which existed in an English translation in Shakespeare’s time. What adds to the probability that he availed himself of the latter is, that the name of the place where the lady lives who is the heroine of the tale is Belmont. But for the blending of the two plots into one supremely interesting story; for the poetry and refinement of its conduct; for the noble delineations of friendship and love; for the potent yet subtle development of hate sprung from mingled national and individual, professional and personal causes—malignant revenge pursued from motives of race-prejudice, social dislike, and moral antipathy; for the making a dramatic fable the means of vindicating a grand human brotherhood question,—for all this, Shakespeare is solely indebted to his own genius. (2) Salarino, and Solanio. In the Folio these names are variously Sg eee enter ee =r eee ees eS ne ee en Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ;7 And every object that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad. Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea. I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, But I should think of shallows and of flats ; And see my wealthy Andrew® dock’d in sand, Vailing® her high-top lower than her ribs, To kiss her burial. Should I go to church, And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, Which, touching but my gentle vessel’s side, Would scatter all her spices on the stream ; Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; spelt in various places of the play; but the mode proposed by Capell, and here adopted, of giving them uniformly, and abbre- viated into Salar. and Solan., appears to be the best for obviating confusion. ; (3) It wearies me; you say it, fc. This passage affords an in- stance of Shakespeare’s way of using “it’’ in reference to a pre- viously unstated particular. In the present speech, indeed, this particular (“sadness”’) is subsequently named ; but the peculiarity of style is here pointed out, as helping to illustrate other passages, where the poet’s usage is less manifest, and where, consequently, the construction is more difficult of comprehension. (4) Argostes. The name given to large ships, either men-of-war or merchantmen. It has been derived from Argo—the vessel in which Jason and the Argonauts set sail when they sought the golden fleece. ie ’ i er (5) Signiors and rich burghers. “ Signior” is a title of dignity and respect among Italians. “Burghers”’ are privileged members of a corporate town or borough. , p (6) Plucking the grass, ¢c. Ascham says—“ This way I used in shooting. When I was in the myddle way betwixt the markes, which was an open place, there I toke a fethere, or a lyttle grasse, and so learned how the wind stood.” Every one knows the sailor’s method of holding up a moistened finger, that the side soonest feeling cold may indicate the quarter whence the wind blows. (7) Roads. Roadsteads. See Note 37, Act iii, “Comedy of Errors.”’ tin (8) Andrew. Well given as the name of an Italian ship, in honour of the great Genoese admiral, Andrea Doria. (9) Vailing. To “vail” is to lower, decline, bend down, let fall. See Note 1, Act v., “ Measure for Measure.” : 364 And, in a word, but even now worth this, And now worth nothing ? Shall I have ‘the thought To think on this; and shall I lack the thought, That such a thing bechane’d would make me sad ? But tell not me; a know, Antonio Is sad to think upon his merchandise. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year : Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Salar. Why, then you are in love. Ant. Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let’s say you’re sad, Because you are not merry: and ’twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,!! Nature hath fram’d strange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,!* And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper ; And other of such vinegar aspéct, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor™ swear the jest be laughable. Solan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well: We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have stay’d till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me. Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it, your own business calls on you, And you embrace the occasion to depart. Enter Bassanto, Lorenzo, and GRATIANO. Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? say, when? You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SataRino and Sonanto. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, (10) Now worth this. In Shakespeare’s elliptical style, the nomi- native is understood, though not expressed in this sentence. (11) By two-headed Janus. We shall have many occasions to point out where Shakespeare has been poy appropriate in his forms of adjuration. Here, not only does he make an Italian use a mythological oath (still a habit in Italy, where “ Per Bacco!” “Corpo di Bacco!’ and “ Santa Diana!” are usual exclamations at the present day), but he makes Salarino swear by Janus, who was one of the most ancient god-kings in Italy; giving him the epithet “two-headed,’”’ in allusion to the form in which the god was repre- sented. Moreover, the double head with which the antique images of Janus appeared, often gave contrasted faces; young and old, smiling and wrinkled, &¢.; which accords well with the subsequent context in the speech. (12) Peep through their eyes. A graphic expression, descriptive of ee aie puckers up his eyes into mere narrow slits by perpetual aughing. (13) Nestor. One of the gravest and sagest of the Grecian generals in the Trojan war; the commander-in-chief, Agamemnon, saying that, had he ten such counsellors as Nestor, Troy would soon be taken. (14) Play the fool. Gratiano, hearing Antonio assigning himself a sad part on the stage of the world, professes his choice for that of “the fool;’’ in allusion to the character who went by that name in the old dramatic shows, and whose province it was to deal in perpetual buffooneries. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. [Act I. We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Bass. I will not fail you. Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it that do buy it with much care: Believe me, you are marvellously chang’d. Ant. I hold the world’ but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. Gra. Let me play the fool : With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,— I love thee, and it is my love that speaks,— There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle! like a standing pond ; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress’d in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark !” Oh, my Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing ;!° when, I am very sure,!7 If they should speak, would almost doom those ears, Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.18 I'll tell thee more of this another time: But fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool- gudgeon, this opinion,!’9— Come, good Lorenzo.—Fare ye well awhile: Tl end my exhortation after dinner. Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner- time : I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak. Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. (15) Do cream and mantle. The felicity of these verbs, as here used, will be obvious to those who recall not only the way in which “a standing pond” becomes covered by a sluggish substance some- times cracked into lines, like a face furrowed by care or sourness, but the way in which milk that has been boiled becomes skinned over by a surface assuming precisely the appearance of wrinkles in a human countenance. (16) Reputed wise, for saying nothing. This reminds us of Moliére’s witty couplet :— * A fool who takes care not to utter a word, Can’t be known from a wise man, whose tongue i isn’t heard.” (17) When, I am very sure. “When” has been altered by some editors into ‘who’ here; but this passage seems to us to be one of those where Shakespeare, i in his elliptical style, allows the nomina- tive to be understood. In the present case the “they” in “if they ere ” is understood as repeated in the same line before wou (18) Call their brothers fools. The sentence may be thus inter- preted :—‘ If these wiseacres were to speak, the nonsense they would utter would cause their hearers to incur the penalty pronounced upon those who call their brothers fools.’ (19) This fool-gudgeon, this opinion. The gudgeon being esteemed a foolish fish anc 4 easily caught, Gratiano uses it as a simile for the good opinion of the world,—too readily won, and scarcely worth having when gained, Screnz I.] Ant. Farewell: Ill grow a talker for this gear.” Gra. Thanks, i’faith; for silence is only com- mendable In a neat’s tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Ezeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Ant. Is that anything now?! Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 365 How much [ have disabled mine estate, By something showing a more swelling port” Than my faint means would grant continuance: Nor do I now make moan to be abridg’d From such a noble rate; but my chief care Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Hath left me gag’d.**>_ To you, Antonio, as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them ; and, when you have them, they are not worth the search. Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promis’d to tell me of? Bass. “Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, (20) For this gear. A colloquial expression; equivalent to ‘For the sake of this, that has just been mentioned.’ “Gear”’ is derived from the Saxon gearwa, anything prepared or made ready; so that ‘business in hand,’ ‘matter in question,’ ‘subject uhder disquisi- tion,’ is its meaning. (21) Is that anything now ? In the Folio this sentence is printed— ‘Tt is that anything now?’ We have sometimes fancied that the word ‘in’ was possibly omitted between “that”? and “any;”’ or that “any”? might have been a misprint for ‘very’—in which case it would have read, ‘It is that very thing now,’ meaning, ‘ Silence is commendable now, when you are holding your tongue and going.’ But on the whole, we think that, by leaving out the word “it,” and making the speech a question (as most editors now do), we have just the kind of quietly scorn ul comment that Antonio would nnn ee ee UEEEEEEEEEEEEESEESSSs Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world. Act I. Scene II. I owe the most, in money and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburthen all my plots and purposes, How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;* And if it stand, as you yourself still do,” Within the eye of honour, be assur’d, make, after Gratiano’s fling at those who “are reputed wise for saying nothing.” ' j (22) A more swelling port. ‘A more imposing appearance of wealth and grandeur.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word “port’’ in this sense. (23) Gag’d. Pledged; bound to pay. (24) Let me know it. An instance of the way in which Shakespeare uses “it,” when referring to a plurally-named antecedent. See Note 2, Act iii. “'Tempest.’’ In the present passage “it” alludes to “ plots and purposes,’ as if they were ‘a plan’ or ‘scheme.’ (25) As you yourself still do. One of the commentators points out that here “still’’ is used in the sense of ‘always,’ ‘ever.’ It is so; but it is also used (in Shakespeare’s matchless style of selecting a word that combines various significations) in the sense 366 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lie all unlock’d to your occasions. Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way with more advised watch, To find the other forth;*? and by adventuring both, I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence. I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, That which I owe is lost: but if you please To shoot another arrow that self way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the aim, or to find both, Or bring your latter hazard back again, And thankfully rest debtor for the first. Ant. . You know me well; and herein spend but time, To wind about my love with cireumstance;* And out of doubt you do me now more wrong In making question of my uttermost, Than if you had made waste of all I have: Then do but say to me what I should do, That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest” unto it: therefore, speak. Bass. 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 :*1 Her name is Portia; nothing undervalu’d To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia : Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; For the four winds blow in from every coast Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strand, And many Jasons*® come in quest of her. O my Antonio! had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift,°3 That I should questionless be fortunate. Ant. Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea; Neither have I money, nor commodity *# To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; Try what my credit can in Venice do: That shall be rack’d,* even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Go, presently inquire, and so will I, of ‘continue to do.’ Antonio means that Bassanio always stands honourably, and continues to do so, notwithstanding those errors of which he has just accused himself, (26) I shot his fellow, fc. This mode of tracking the course of an arrow lost to view, is of extremely ancient practice, and is alluded to by many old writers. (27) To find the other forth. ‘Find forth” was used by Shake- speare as an equivalent for ‘find out.’ He often employs the word “forth’’ as the Italians do their word fuor or fuore. (28) Cirewmstance. Used here, and elsewhere, by Shakespeare for ‘circumlocution,’ ‘superfluous words,’ ‘needless instances.’ (29) Prest. Ready, prompt; disposed. Old French, prest ; modern French, prét. “ Prest’’ here also has the effect of ‘pressed ;’ in the sense of urged, incited, impelled. (30) Sometimes. ‘Formerly ;’ ‘ before now,’ (31) Fair speechless messages. A graceful way of expressing the numberless things that may be conveyed in the mute eloquence of a lady’s look. (32) Many Jasons. In allusion to Jason, prince of Thessaly, who set sail in the ship Argo for Colchis, to obtain possession of the golden fleece. ee es [Acr I. Where money is; and I no question make, To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [ Haeunt. SCENE IIl.—Betuonz. A room in Portta’s house. Enter Portia and Nerissa. Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a- weary of this great world. Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean :** superfluity comes sooner by white hairs ;%7 but competency lives longer. Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better, if well followed. Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood;* but a hot temper leaps o’er a cold decree: such a hare is madness, the youth,” to skip o’er the meshes of good counsel, the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband :—oh, me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.—Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse one ? Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations: there- fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you), will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one whom you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come ? Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to'my description, level at my affection. Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. Ay, that’s a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great (33) Thrift. Here used in the sense of profit, gain, advantage, prosperity, thriving. (34) Commodity. “Goods ;’ ‘articles of merchandise.’ The word, moreover, is judiciously employed here, as it includes the idea of ‘convenience.’ Shakespeare often introduces words that thus ingeniously convey more than one impression appropriate to the subject in question. (35) Rack’d. ‘ Stretched,’ ‘ strained.’ (36) To be seated in the mean. ‘To be placed in the middle station of life.’ (37) Comes sooner by white hairs. ‘Sooner attains white hairs.’ To “come by” something, is still a common idiom for attaining something. (38) Blood. Here used for temperament, natural disposition, impulse, inclination. (39) Such a hare is madness, the youth. We have still the expres- sion ‘hare-brained ;’ signifying rash, wild, hurried. (40) A colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse. “A colt’ is used for a foolish, wild young fellow; as we find in Henry VIL, i. 3, where the chamberlain, joking Lord Sands upon his still being young and frolicsome, says, “ Your colt’s tooth is not Scrnz IT.] appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. I am much afraid my lady his mother played false with a smith. Ner. Then is there the County Palatine.” Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, “ An you will not have me, choose.” He hears merry tales, and smiles not:“ I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a Death’s-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these :—Heaven defend me from these two ! Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon? Por. God made him,.and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, he !—why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan’s ; a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine: he is every man in no man; if a throstle“ sing, he falls straight a capering: he will fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron of England ? Por. You know I say nothing to him; for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian ; and_you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth* in the English. He is a proper man’s picture ;*7 but, alas! who can converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited !*8 I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere. Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour ? Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English- man, and swore he would pay him again when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety, and sealed under for another. Ner. How like you the young German,” the Duke of Saxony’s nephew ? cast yet.” The Neapolitans, in Shakespeare’s time, were famed for their skill in horsemanship. The word “appropriation,” in this speech, has been checked at by some who would substitute another in its stead; but it is just in Shakespeare’s way of using a term with relation to its original meaning, and with his own largely- extended significance. Thus, here, we take “appropriation 2 tO: mean something belonging to this list of merits upon which he values himself. (41) County Palatine. “County,” or ‘Count,’ was a title applied to noblemen generally. See Note 38, Act iv., “Much Ado about Nothing.” But it has been supposed that “the County Palatine” here alludes to a certain count Albertus Alasco, a Polish Palatine, who visited the Court of Queen Elizabeth in 1583, and whose story of a youth spent in prodigality, and an old age spent in search of the philosopher’s stone, was publicly known. (42) He hears merry tales, and smiles not. We shall have frequent occasion to remark upon Shakespeare’s girds at these dealers in melancholy; fellows who are impervious to a jest, and impenetrable by mirth; either obtusely insensible to fun, or determinately set upon being uninfluenced by its appeals. The joyous-hearted Portia would find such a character peculiarly repugnant to her nature. _ (43) A horse better than the Neapolitan’s. It would be difficult to cite a more playful summary than is contained in this speech of the excitability, the volubility, the volatility, and the versatility 08 characterises those whom Addison has styled “this ludicrous nation.” (44) Throstle. The missel-thrush. See Note 17, Act iii., “ Mid- summer Night’s Dream.”’ THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 367 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when he is best, he is little worse than a man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. An the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father’s will, if you should refuse to accept him. Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for, if the devil be within and that tempta- tion without, I know he will choose it. I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge. Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords: they have acquainted me with their determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father’s imposition, depending on the caskets. Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla,®! I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father’s will. Iam glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence; and I pray Heaven grant them a fair departure. Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father’s time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat ? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio: as I think, so was he called.” Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. Por. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise. Enter a Servant. How now! what news? Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince his master will be here to-night. Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so (45) Neither Latin, French, nor Italian. This has been pronounced to bea satire upon the limited knowledge of English travellers in the languages of the countries they visit. But it is not so much that an Englishman cannot speak a foreign language, as that he is shy in speaking it; and this, added _ to his native taciturnity, makes him the “dumb-show”’ which Portia calls him, and which Italian ladies still find him. (46) A poor pennyworth. sometimes used to express an indefinite amount. Act iii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.”’ (47) A proper man’s picture. _“ Proper” is ‘comely,’ ‘ well-pro- portioned.’ By this expression Portia conveys just the effect that a handsome speechless Englishman—even to the present day—pro- duces upon her countrywomen, when introduced to one of them. (48) How oddly he is suited! This practice of compounding a gentleman’s attire from diversity of fashions, is also satirised by Shakespeare in “ Much Ado about Nothing,” ili. 2. (49) Borrowed a bow of the ear, &c. An allusion to the perpetual quarrels between the Scotch and the English, with the promises of assistance to the former from the French. (50) The young German. Shakespeare elsewhere alludes to the addiction to drink, and potency in potations, of the Germans. (51) Sibylla. The Cumean Sibyl, of whom Apollo was enamoured, and on whom he conferred the privilege she demanded of living as many years as she had grains of sand in her hand. (52) So was he called. In this little speech Shakespeare gives a specimen of his subtle knowledge of womanly nature and mode of expression. Portia’s first eager “ Yes, yes, it was Bassanio;” and “© Pennyworth,” like “ roe = ee Note 7, eee 368 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ood heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he have the con- dition of a saint and the complexion of a devil,** I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come, Nerissa.—Sirrah, go before.— Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another : knocks at the door. [ Exeunt. SCENE III.—VeEnice. Enter Bassanio and Suytock.** Shy. Three thousand ducats,—well. Bass. Ay, sir, for three months, Shy. For three months,—well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. Shy. Antonio shall become bound,—well. Bass. May you stead®? me? will you pleasure me? shall I know your answer ? Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound. A public place. Bass. Your answer to that. Shy. Antonio is a good man.*® Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? Shy. Oh, no, no, no, no ;—my meaning, in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto,'7 he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England,— and other ventures he hath squandered*®* abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water- thieves,*°—I mean pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, not- withstanding, sufficient :—three. thousand ducats :— I think I may take his bond. Bass. Be assured you may. Shy. I will be assured I may: and, that I may then her soberer, “ As I think, so was he called,” is precisely true to feminine impulse and feminine instinct. (53) Condition of a saint and the complexion of a devil. Portia, hearing of the Prince of Morocco, immediately pictures to herself his African complexion. ‘Condition’ is here, as elsewhere, used for ‘inherent qualities,’ ‘nature,’ ‘ disposition.’ (54) Shylock, This name was used for a Jew in a pamphlet pub- lished in 1607, being the reprint of a much older copy; therefore there is a probability that it was known to Shakespeare. It is believed that the name was derived from the Jewish appellation, Scialac ; borne by a Maronite of Mount Libanus about the period in question. (55) Stead. Help, support, benefit. (56) A good man, Still a commercial phrase for ‘a man of credit;’ but Bassanio affects to take it in its more usual and general sense of ‘a virtuous man.’ (57) The Rialto. This name seems to have been derived from the Italian Riva alta, high shore; because the island called “ Rialto,” in Venice, is one of the most elevated of those on which the city is built. ,, There was an exchange upon this island, called “the Rialto, where the Venetian gentlemen and merchants met twice a day; and this is the “Rialto” meant in the text ; not the bridge now known as “the Rialto,’ which connects the island with the one upon which St. Mark’s stands. (58) Squandered. Formerly used for scattered, dispersed. _ 9) Land-thieves and water-thieves. This is transposedly printed in the Folio; thereby not only spoiling the consecution that accords | with “Jand-rats and water-rats,” but divides “water- thieves from “ pirates,’ which is evidently intended as an interpretation. [ Acris: be assured, I will bethink me. Antonio ? Bass. If it please you to dine with us. Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habita- tion which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with What news on the Rialto ?—Who is he comes May I speak with you. here ? Enter Antonio. Bass. This is Signior Antonio. Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he looks ! 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. Curséd be my tribe, If I forgive him ! Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? Shy. Iam debating of my present store ; And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft! how many months Do you desire >—[To Anronto.] Rest you fair, good signior ; Your worship was the last man in our mouths. Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow, By taking nor by giving of excess, Yet, to supply the ripe wants™ of my friend, PU break a custom.—[To Bassanro.] Is he yet possess’d How much you would? - (60) Usance here with us in Venice. That the Jews were at that time noted and licensed usurers in Venice, is manifest from a passage in a history of Italy published in 1561:—“It is almost incredible what gain the Venetians receive by the usury of the Jews, both privately and in common. For in every city the Jews keep open shops of usury, taking gages of ordinary for fifteen in the hundred by the year; and if at the year’s end the gage be not redeemed, it is forfeit, or at least done away to a great dis- advantage; by reason whereof the Jews are out of measure wealthy in those parts.” Itis remarkable what intensity of characterisation Shakespeare has put into Shylock’s diction—not only individual, but national characterisation. In that little word “us,” for in- stance, how like the persecuted tribe speaking of themselves! in the epithet “our sacred nation,” how like the pious pride that distinguishes them! in the expression “a wealthy Hebrew of our tribe” there is the peculiar avoidance of the word Jew, which is observable among them,—calling themselves “ Israelites,” not Jews. Shylock never uses the word, save in that speech of magnifi- cent bitterness (iii. 1) where he employs it as in the mouth of Christians speaking of himself and his tribe. (61) Catch him once upon the hip. To “catch” or have “upon the hip” is a phrase borrowed from wrestling, or from hunting; and means to get a person into a position for taking advantage of him. The expression is repeated in iv. 1 of this play, and in iii. 1 of *Othello.’”’ (62) The ripe wants. Shakespeare ‘sometimes uses the word “ripe’’ in the sense of ‘come to urgent necessity,’ ‘come to extremity.’ (63) Possess’d. Informed; possessed with the knowledge of. See Note 9, Act iv., “‘ Measure for Measure.” Bassanio. This is Signior Antonio. Shylock. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him for he is a Christian. Act I. Scene III. SSS ee = —— eta ah —— a See ae eee Pee 47 Scene IIT. ] Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. Ant. And for three months. Shy. I had forgot,—three months: [To Bas- santo] you told me so. [To Anronto.] Well then, your bond ;* and let me see,—but hear you ; Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage. Ant. I do never use it. Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban’s sheep,— This Jacob from our holy Abraham was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) The third possessor; ay, he was the third,— - Ant. And what of him? did he take interest ? Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say, Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. When Laban and himself were compromis’d® That all the eanlings® which were streak’d and pied Should fall as Jacob’s hire, The skilful shepherd peeled me certain wands, And stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time Fall parti-coloured lambs, and those were Jacob’s. This was a way to thrive, and he was blest: And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv’d for ; A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But sway’d and fashion’d by the hand of Heaven. Was this inserted to make interest good ? Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast :— But note me, signior. Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An eyil soul, producing holy witness, Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; A goodly apple rotten at the heart : Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood® hath! Shy. Three thousand ducats,—’tis a good round sum. Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate. Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you? Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto,® you have rated me (64) Well then, your bond. It is worthy of observation how in- geniously Shakespeare has kept in view the main circumstance that weighs with Shylock—the bond that Antonio is to enter into—while at the same time the Jew takes pains to conceal his own malignant interest in the point. Here, after letting fall the word, he turns off attention from it, by the words “let me see,—but hear you,” and goes on to speak of another subject; then, when he returns to the essential point he mentions it lightly, speaks of “a merry sport,”’ and calls it “this merry bond.” Moreover, with consummate dramatic skill, the poet has contrived—under the natural semblance of Shylock’s hesitation to lend the sum required—to impress re- peatedly upon the spectator’s or reader’s attention the terms of the bargain which form the story’s chief interest. (65) Compromis’d. Mutually promised, or agreed. (66) Eanlings. Lambs just born; from the Saxon eanian, to bring forth young. (67) Fall. Used actively, for ‘let fall.’ (68) Falsehood. As*Shakespeare sometimes uses “truth” for ‘honesty,’ so he here, and elsewhere, uses “falsehood” for ‘knavery.’ ; (69) In the Rialto. Elsewhere, Shakespeare has “on the Rialto,” and “upon the Rialto; ” just as we say either ‘In the Exchange,’ ‘on ’Change,’ or ‘upon ’Change.’ Moreover, “on,” “of,” and “in,’’ were often used indiscriminately by writers of his time. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 371 About my monies and my usances:” Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For suff’rance is the badge of all our tribe: You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,” 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 monies ; ”»—you say s0 5 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold: monies is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say, “Hath a dog money? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats? ” or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman’s key,”* With bated breath and whisp’ring humbleness, Say this, “ Fair sir, you spat on me on Wednesday last ; You spurn’d me such a day; another time You call’d me dog; and for these courtesies Tl lend you thus much monies? ” Ant. Iam as like to call thee so again, To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.’* Tf thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends (for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal? of his friend?) ; But lend it rather to thine enemy ; Who if he break, thou mayst with better face Exact the penalty. Shy. Why, look you, how you storm ! T 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 monies, and you'll not hear me ; This is kind I offer. Bass. This were kindness. Shy. 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 for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me. (70) Usances. Usuries. Fs (71) Jewish gaberdine. A large loose cloak. See Note 38, Act ii., * Tempest.’ There does not seem to have been any distinctive garment worn by the Jews; but it appears that they wore yellow turbans, or bonnets. = ; (72) Go to. An idiomatic phrase; tantamount to Just SO, ‘very well.’ See Note 43, Act iii., “Love’s Labour’s Lost.’ , (73) A bondman’s key. ‘The tone of voice befitting a slave.’ See Note 29, Act v., “Comedy of Errors.” rads (74) To call thee so again, to spit, fc. In the shrinking we feel from the implacable revenge of Shylock when his day of triumph is apparently come, we are apt to forget the unrelentingness with which Antonio has behaved in the time of his ascendancy—the Christian merchant’s treatment of the Jewish usurer. There is nothing of Christian forbearance in the spirit of the present speech ; but rather the intolerance, the acrimony, the inimical defiance which provokes retaliation. ‘ (75) A breed for barren metal. This idea—of money bred from money, of money put out to interest, being made to reproduce itself, though sterile by nature—is as old as Aristotle; and is also used by Lord Bacon, and by Meres. . : ) (76) No dott of usance. “ Doit” is a small coin. See Note 37, Act ii, “Tempest.” ‘“Usance” is here used for ‘interest.’ 372 Ant. Content, in faith: Pll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew. Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me: Pl rather dwell” in my necessity. Ant. 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. Shy. Oh, father Abraham! what these Chris- tians are, Whose own hard dealings 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, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. [Acr II. 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. Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Shy. ‘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. Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. | Hxit SayLock. This Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind. Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind. Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay ; My ships come home a month before the day. | Hweunt. SCENE I.—BeEtmont. Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince or Morocco and his train ; Portia, Nerissa, and other of her | attendants. Mor. Mislike' me not for my complexion, The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun, To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. Bring me the fairest creature northward born, Where Pheebus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles, And let us make incision for your love,? To prove whose blood is reddest,* his or mine. I tell thee, lady, this aspéct of mine Hath fear’d the valiant :* by my love, I swear The best-regarded virgins of our clime Have lov’d it too: I would not change this hue, Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes ;° Besides, the lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing : But, if my father had not scanted me, And hedg’d me by his wit,® to yield myself A room in Portta’s house. (77) Dwell. Used here for ‘remain,’ ‘ continue,’ ‘ abide.’ (78) Break his day. A technicality of Shakespeare’s time for a breach of contract. So the expression, “if he break,’’ just before used by Antonio, means, ‘if he fail to pay the debt contracted ;’ and does not mean mercantile failure, or bankruptcy, as the word is sometimes now employed. (79) The fearful guard. That is,in the guard of one who occasions fear by his being untrustworthy and careless. (1) Mislhike. It is a pity that this word should grow out of use; for, although similar to ‘ dislike,’ ‘disapprove,’ ‘be displeased with,’ yet, as Shakespeare uses it, it has a shade of different and additional meaning, to express which it were advantageous to possess this fitting word. He employs it for ‘dislike mistakenly,’ ‘disapprove erroneously,’ ‘be displeased with on wrongly-conceived grounds.’ (2) Make incision for your love. Allusion is elsewhere made to this practice. See Note 80, Act iv., ‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (3) Whose blood is reddest. 'The superior redness of blood was supposed to be an indication of superior courage; and Shakespeare often uses the want of colour as a symptom of want of valour. (4) Fear’d the valiant. ‘Caused the valiant to fear.’ Shake- AGED ete His wife who wins me by that means I told you, Yourself, renownéd prince, then stood as fair As any comer I have look’d on yet For my affection. Mor. Even for that I thank you: Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, To try my fortune. By this scimitar,— That slew the Sophy,* and a Persian prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,— I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, To win thee, lady. But, alas the while !9 If Hercules and Lichas'® play at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his page ;!! And so may I, blind fortune leading me, Miss that which one unworthier may attain, And die with grieving. Por. You must take your chance ; And either not attempt to choose at all, speare, and writers of his time, often used “to fear’? for ‘to frighten,’ instead of for ‘to be afraid of.’ (5) Nice direction of a maiden’s eyes. Shakespeare uses the word “nice” with various signification. Here, he seems to us to employ it to express ‘ discriminating,’ ‘ choice,’ ‘ fastidious.’ (6) Scanted me, and hedg’d me by his wit. ‘ Scanted’’ means ‘limited,’ ‘stinted;’ “hedg’d’’? means ‘confined, ‘ restrained.’ “Wit” is here used for ‘intelligence,’ ‘sagacity,’ ‘ forethought.’ (7) That means I told you. Here, in Shakespeare’s elliptical style, the sentence is complete without the ‘of’ with which it would, in usual parlance, conclude. We point out examples in these more obvious passages, because it will help the beginner-student of Shakespeare to comprehend his construction in obscurer ones. (8) The Sophy. The title of the Emperor of Persia. (9) Alas the while! This, and “woethe while!’’ are exclamations occurring in Shakespeare, and were in general use in his time; meaning, however, no more than “alas!” or ‘‘ woe!” introduced parenthetically. (10) Lichas. Servant to Hercules ; who, bringing his master the poisonous garment sent by Dejanira, was thrown by him into the sea. (11) Page. This word is printed ‘rage’ in the Quartos as well as Scene IT. ] Or swear before you choose,—if you choose wrong, Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage: therefore be advis’d.” THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 373 to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, “ Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,” or “good ig 4 es Mi hi j | ] jlll}) | cr nl | Bassanio. Launcelot. Mor. Nor will not.¥ chance. Por. First, forward to the temple: after dinner Your hazard shall be made. Mor. Good fortune then ! To make me blest or cursed’st 4 among men. [Cornets, and exeunt. Come, bring me unto my SCENE II.—Venice. A street. Enter Launcetot. Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me the Folio; but Theobald made the needful correction, pointing out that the context shows the idea to bea strong man foiled by a weaker man in a chance at dice, and not of the former being mastered by his own wrath. “Alcides”’ is one of the names of Hercules—from the Greek word for strength, or, more probably, from his being the descendant of Alcus, his grandfather ; it being a custom among classical heroes to bear the names of their pro- enitors—as, ‘ Laertides,’ for Ulysses, son of Laertes; ‘ Macides,’ or Achilles, grandson of Macus. (12) Be advis’d. ‘Be wary;’ ‘be circumspect;’ ‘bethink you well.’ See Note 107, Act v., “‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost.”’ (13) Nor will not. The prince says this in rejoinder to Portia’s “Never speak to lady,’ &c. Shakespeare often thus makes his One speak for both What would you? Serve you, sir. Act II. Scene II. Gobbo,” or “ good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away.’ My conscience says, “No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo,” or, as aforesaid, “honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy heels.’ Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: “Via!” 7 says the fiend; “away!” says the fiend ; “for the heavens,!§ rouse up a brave mind,” says the fiend, “and run.” Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, “‘My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s son,’—or rather an honest woman’s son ;—for, indeed, my father did something smack, something characters reply to something not immediately preceding what they say; giving a most natural effect to his dialogue. See Note 7, Act iv., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (14) Blest or cursed’st. Instance of a positive and a superlative used together. See Note 73, Act iv., ‘ Measure for Measure.”’ (15) Launcelot. In the Quartos and Folio this character is called “the Clown,” on the occasion of his entrances and exits. (16) Scorn running with thy heels. To “scorn with the heels”’ was an expression then in use for contemptuously rejecting a pro- posal, for spurning a suggestion. (17) Via! An exclamation of encouragement. See Note 47, Act ii., “‘ Merry Wives.”’ (18) For the heavens. An old form of ‘For Heaven's sake.’ The 374, grow to,—he had a kind of taste ;!—well, my con- science says, “Launcelot, budge not.” ‘ Budge,” says the fiend. “ Budge not,” says my conscience. Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend, say I, you counsel well: to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who (bless the mark!*) is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnation ;*! and, in my con- science, my conscience is but a kind of hard con- science, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your commandment; I will run. _ Enter Otp Gosso,” with a basket. Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s ? Lawn. [Aside.] Oh, heavens, this is my true- begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind,” high-gravel blind, knows me not:—I will try con- fusions* with him. Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s ? Lawn. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew’s house. Gob. By my troth, ’twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no? Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?— [Aside.] Mark me now; now will I raise the waters.” —[To him.| Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man’s son: his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. Laun. Well, let his father be what ’a will, we talk of young Master Launcelot. Gob. Your worship’s friend, and Launcelot,*6 sir. Laun. But I pray you, ergo,” old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot? Gob. Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership. Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, father ; for the young gentleman (according to Fates and Destinies, and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three, and such branches of humour of making “the fiend” use such an adjuration, is just in Shakespeare’s way. So is the strong figure of speech, ‘‘ My conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart,’ to express an earnest appeal. (19) Something smack, something grow to,—he had a kind of taste. Launcelot’s hovering way of hinting that his father had some twang of dishonesty, some leaning towards knavery, about him. (20) Bless the mark! A parenthetical exclamation like “save the mark!” used deprecatively or avertively. (21) Incarnation. Launcelot’s blunder for ‘ incarnate.’ (22) Gobbo. As this is the Italian word for 2 hunchback, it has been supposed that Shakespeare intended Old Gobbo to be repre- sented as deformed. (23) Sand-blind. This was an epithet formerly in use to express imperfect sight, as if there were sand in the eyes; and Launcelot exaggerates it into “ high-gravel blind.’ (24) Confusions. Launcelot’s blunder for ‘conclusions.’ To “try conclusions ”’ is to ‘ try experiments.’ (25) Now will I raise the waters. Launcelot’s grand way of saying he will bring tears into his father’s eyes. (26) Your worship’s friend, and Launcelot. The old man means to say ‘Him whom your worship seems to know; and who is simply THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. (Acr II. learning), is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop. Laun. [Aside.] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop?—[To him.] Do you know me, father ? Gob. Alack the day! I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy (rest his soul !) alive or dead ? Laun. Do you not know me, father ? Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. [Kneels.] Give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long, —a man’s son may; but, in the end, truth will out. Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy. Laun. Pray you, let’s have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. Gob. I cannot think you are my son. Laun, I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew’s man; and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother. Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: Ill be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord, worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got!* thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my phill-horse®* has on his tail. : Lawn. It should seem, then, that Dobbin’s tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail, than I have of my face,*® when I last saw him. Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How ’gree you now? Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have set up my rest*! to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master’s a ve Jew: give him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs.* Father, I am glad you are come: give me your present to one Master Bassanio,* Launcelot, not Master Launcelot.? That this form of expression for one and the same person was then used, we find from Costard’s thus announcing himself, “ Your servant, and Costard.”’ (27) Ergo. Latin, ‘ therefore.’ (28) What a beard hast thou got! On the stage this is made more clear, by Launcelot’s kneeling for his father’s blessing in such a way that the old man’s hand comes in contact with the hair which grows on the back of the lad’s head; and which Gobbo takes for the beard which he imagines his son to have attained since they last met. (29) Phill-horse. Shaft-horse. ‘Phill,’ or ‘fill,’ are other forms of ‘thill,’ a shaft. (30) Of his tail, than I have of my face. Instance of “of” used for on.’ See Note 28, Act iii., “ Tempest.” (31) Set up my rest. ‘Made up my mind;’ ‘resolved,’ ‘deter- mined.’ See Note 30, Act iv., “Comedy of Errors.”’ ’ (82) Tell every finger I have with my ribs. This sort of jest, con- sisting in a misplacing of words, is a favourite one with Shake- speare in the mouths of his clownish characters. (33) Give me your present to one Master Bassanio. This form of phrase was usual in Shakespeare’s time; the “me” being elliptical for ‘forme.’ We have somewhat the same kind of idiom still, in such phrases as ‘Fetch me a coach;’ ‘ Put me an iron down to the fire.’ € Scene IT.]° who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground.** Oh, rare fortune! here comes the man :—to hin, father ; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. Enter Bassanto, with Lronarpo and other followers. Bass. You may do so;—but let it be so hasted, that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered ; put the liveries to making ; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Hatt a Servant. Lawn. Gob. Bass. To him, father. God bless your worship ! Gramercy :*° wouldst thou aught with me? Gob. Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,— Lawn. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man; that would, sir,—as my father shall specify,— Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve,— Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire,—as my father shall specify,— Gob. His master and he (saving your worship’s reverence) are scarce cater-cousins,*/— Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew having done me wrong, doth cause me,—as my father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto ou,— é Gob. I have here a dish of doves* that I would bestow upon your worship; and my suit is,— Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent*® to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father. Bass. One speak for both.—What would you? Lawn. Serve you, sir. Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. Bass. I know thee well; thou hast obtain’d thy suit: Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, And hath preferr’d *! thee,—if it be preferment (34) As far as’ God _has any ground. Very appropriate in the mouth of one born in Venice ; where there is a very limited amount of ground. (35) Gramercy. A corruption of the French grand merci, ‘many thanks.’ The French is literally ‘great thank ;’ merci being an abbreviation of remerciment. (36) Infection. Gobbo’s blundered word between ‘affection’ and ‘ inclination.’ (37) Scarce cater-cousins. “Cater-cousins’’ is a corruption of the French quatre cousins, four cousins. To be ‘not cater-cousins,’ was an old phrase expressive of not being on good terms together ; not being nearly enough allied in liking to claim kindred even in the fourth degree. (38) A dish of doves. It is so frequent a custom with Italian peasants to present gifts of poultry or fruit to their employers, that it has been thought [see page 110 of Charles Armytage Brown’s delightful book, “Shakespeare’s Autobiographical Poems ’’] Shakespeare must have visited Italy, possessing so intimate an acquaintance, as he manifests, with its local habits. But of what subject that he treats does he not evince thorough know- ledge? It is our belief that, in the large circle of persons of all ranks and avocations with whom Shakespeare had intercourse, he made it his special object to induce them to talk upon those subjects in which he knew them to be well versed; and, endowed with a marvellous power of making all that he heard his own, he thus obtained minutely-detailed and accurate information, of which he afterwards availed himself in his masterly and perfect manner. (39) Impertinent. Launcelot’s blunder for ‘ pertinent.’ (40) Defect. Gobbo’s mistake for ‘ effect.’ (41) Preferr’d. Bassanio first uses this word in its sense of THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become The follower of so poor a gentleman. Laun. The old proverb is very well parted be- tween my master Shylock and you, sir + you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. Bass. Thou speak’st it well.—Go, father, with thy son.— ‘ake leave of thy old master, and inquire My lodging out.—[To his followers.| Give him a livery More guarded* than his fellows’: see it done. Lawn. Father, in.—I cannot get a service, no ;— I have ne’er a tongue in my head.—[Looking on his palm.| Well, if any man in Italy* have a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book,—I shal! have good fortune !—Go to, here’s a simple line of life!* here’s a small trifle of wives! alas! fifteen wives is nothing! eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man! and then to ’scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed,—here are simple ’scapes! Well, if Fortune be a woman, she’s a good wench for this gear.“—Father, come; I’ll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. [ Hxeunt LacvncEetot and OLd Gospo. Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this: These things being bought and orderly bestow’d, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best-esteem’d acquaintance: hie thee, go. Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. Enter GRATIANO. Gra. Where is your master ? Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Hvit. Gra. Signior Bassanio,— Bass. Gratiano! Gra. I have a suit to you. Bass. You have obtain’d #. Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont. Bass. Why, then you must. Gratiano: But hear thee, ‘proposed for acceptance’ [see Note 39, Act iv., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream”]; but changes it into its sense of ‘advanced,’ ‘promoted,’ as he goes on, by following it up’ with the word “preferment.’’ (42) Enough. Here this word not only represents ‘wealth,’ ‘substance,’ ‘worldly means;’ but, as we imagine Launcelot waggishly uttering it—with a slight pause before the word—it con- veys the idea of the gulp with which he swallows that which would form the diametrically and diabolically opposite extreme to “the grace of God.’ Our notion seems confirmed by Bassanio’s next words—* Thou speak’st it well;” and, if we remember rightly, Drinkwater Meadows, who played the part of Launcelot admirably, used to deliver the passage with the very pause of significance that we feel should be here introduced, “ The old proverb” alluded to in the speech is: “The grace of God is better than riches ;” or, in Scottish parlance (which illustrates Launcelot’s words more nearly), “God’s grace is gear enough.” i (43) Guarded. Trimmed, ornamented. See Note 44, Act i, “Much Ado about Nothing.” : ; (44) Well, if any man in Italy, &c. Launcelot’s jumbling way of expressing ‘It will be well if any man in Italy have a fairer promise, and sworn promise, of good fortune thanI!’ yee Me, ry \ 1 Mee eeu se ee an © Wel = ioe a a Scene IX.] Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica. Besides, Antonio certified the duke They were not with Bassanio in his ship. Solan. I never heard a passion so confus’d, So strange, outrageous, and so variable, As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: “‘ My daughter !—oh, my ducats !—oh, my daughter ! Fled with a Christian !—oh, my Christian ducats!— Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter! A sealéd bag, two sealéd bags of ducats, Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter! And jewels,—two stones, two rich and precious stones, ; Stolen by my daughter !—Justice! find the girl! She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats!” Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying,—his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. Solan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this. Salar. Marry, well remember’d. I reason’d™ with a Frenchman yesterday, Who told me,—in the narrow seas that part The French and English, there miscarriéd A vessel of our country richly fraught: I thought upon Antonio when he told me; And wish’d in silence that it were not his. Solan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : Bassanio told him he would make some speed Of his return: he answer’d, “Do not so,— Slubber® not business for my sake, Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time; *° And for the Jew’s bond which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your mind of love :”7 Be merry; and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such fair ostents® of love As shall conveniently become you there : ” And eyen there, his eye being big with tears, Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, are black leather cushioned seats; and the whole of the boat is painted black. This kind of vessel is thoroughly national, and in constant and ordinary use at Venice; but it has an additionally characteristic and picturesque effect introduced here, as being well- fitted for a pair of lovers to make their escape in. (94) Reason’d. Conversed, discoursed. See Note 2, Act v., * Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (95) Slubber. Sloven; perform inefficiently; transact inade- quately. (96) Stay the very riping of the time. In this passage, in the revived allusion to the bond ; in the affectionate—almost solemn— parting between the friends (as if it were for a long while and distance ; whereas it is, in fact, out a few hours’ journey from Venice to the main land); in all these points there is ingeniously introduced an impression of long time, by means of Shakespeare’s protractive process [see Note 58, Act ii.]. The present scene is one of those left out in acting; yet it skilfully conduces to the effect established by the poet’s system. Notwithstanding the elaborate care and consummate mastery with which Shakespeare works, in this respect as in all others, we find at the close of the previous scene a note from Johnson disparaging the dramatist’s plan, and observing that “the story is itself so wildly incredible, and the changes of the scene so frequent and capricious, that the probability of action does not deserve much care” (!). The fact is, whenever a charge is brought against Shakespeare, examine its grounds, and we are sure to discover a fresh merit. So far from making “capricious ’’ changes, the scenes, the times, the occurrences are all mapped out with a consistency and purpose that are marvellous. They may not be according to actual law, but they are strictly true to ideal law. They may not evene as in real existence, but THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 383 And with affection wondrous sensible” He wrung Bassanio’s hand ; and so they parted. Solan. I think he only loves the world for him. I pray thee, let us go and find him out, And quicken his embracéd heaviness! With some delight or other. Salar. Do we so. [ Hxeunt. SCENE IX.—Betmonr. A room in Porrta’s mansion. Enter Nerissa with a Servant. Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight : The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath, And comes to his election presently.! Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince or ARRAGON, Portia, and their trains. Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, prince: If you choose that wherein I am contain’d, Straight!” shall our nuptial rites be solemnis’d : But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately. Ar. I am enjoin’d by oath to observe three things :— First, never to unfold to any one Which casket ’twas I chose; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage ; lastly, If I do fail in fortune of my choice, Immediately to leave you and be gone. Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self. Ar. Andso have I address’d!° me. Fortune now To my heart’s hope !—Gold, silver, and base lead. “Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. noble they transpire in exact conformity with dramatic existence. For example, the previous scene (between Portia and the Prince of Morocco) carries back the time to “after dinner’? (as proposed in Act ii., se. 1, for the period when his “hazard shall be made”’) ; although just before we have beheld a transaction at Venice taking place at nine o’clock at night. But it is by these very shiftings of evening to day, or of night to afternoon, and by the introduction of indefinite periods patedst clearly defined hours, that Shakespeare systematically produces his intended effects of the various yet simultaneous lapses of time—now but sufficient for passing between Venice and Belmont, and now sufficient for allowing the period of the bond to run on. (97) Your mind of love. This expression, which has been found to be so suspicious as to have occasioned proposals of altering it, seems to us to be a felicitous one for ‘a mind compounded of love,’ ‘a mind made up of love,’ ‘a mind occupied with and devoted to love.’ * (98) Ostents. Shows, manifestations. See Note 51, Act ii. (99) Sensible. ‘Full of sensibility;’ ‘full of feeling.’ See Note 23, Act iii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.”’ (100) His embracéd heaviness. ‘His cherished sadness, or de- pression.’ ; . (101) Presently. Immediately; at this present time. See Note 6, Act iv., “Tempest.” > , é (102) Straight. Immediately; directly. As, just before, “draw the curtain straight ;”’ that is, now, at once. (103) Address’d. Prepared. See Note 11, Act ii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’ The prince has prepared himself, by swearing to the pre- scribed conditions, and has conformably prepared his mind to fulfil them. 384 What says the golden chest ? ha! let me see: “Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.” What many men desire !—that many may be meant By the fool multitude,!™ that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond! eye doth teach ; Which pries not to th’ interior, but, like the martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force!” and road of casualty. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump! with common spirits, And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: “Who chooseth me shall get as much as he de- serves :”” And well said too; for who shall go about To cozen fortune, and be honourable Without the stamp of merit? To wear an undeservéd dignity. Oh, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not deriv’d corruptly! and that clear honour Were purchas’d by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover that stand bare ! How many be commanded that command ! How much low peasantry would then be glean’d From the true seed of honour! and how much honour ; Pick’d from the chaff and ruin! of the times, To be new-varnish’d! _ Well, but to my choice: “Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.” I will assume desert.—Give me a key for this, And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [He opens the silver casket. Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there. Ar. What’s here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. How much unlike art thou to Portia ! How much unlike my hopes and my deservings ! Let none presume (104) May be meant by the fool multitude. Here “by’’ is used for ‘of,’ as sometimes “of” is used for ‘by, by Shakespeare and writers of his time. (105) Fond. Foolish; superficially judging. (106) Pries not to th’ interior. This has been changed to ‘ prize not the interior ;’ but the word “ pries”’ here is precisely in Shake- speare’s way, to express ‘scan,’ ‘examine,’ ‘ penetrate.’ (107) Force. Used here for power, pressure. (108) Jump. Agree; conform. (109) Rwin. Used here for ‘refuse,’ ‘husks, ‘bran. The image is a fine one; poetically expressing the idea, ‘How much baseness would then be discovered among the high in station! and how much nobleness would be selected from amid the refuse of society to receive polish and distinction!’ (110) “* Shall have as much as he deserves.’’ The sticklers for what they call consistency contend that in this line “have” should be “get;’ inasmuch as hitherto the inscription on the silver casket has had the latter word. But Shakespeare frequently gives these variations in the wording of such repeated passages ; and, we think, always with some characteristic purpose. Here, for instance, the speaker is agitated; and mechanically repeats the inscription he has lately read, though, as is natural, not with verbal accuracy. (111) Of opposed natures. This little speech of Portia’s—spoken to herself; as we are to imagine all hers spoken, while the choosers of the caskets are debating and making their selection—is not only admirably characteristic in the speaker, but it contains curiously diverse applications, in consonance with her reflective mind and habit of thought. “To offend and judge,” &c., serves to express that the province of the casket-contents is not to give offence, but to pronounce sentence; it also serves as a consequence upon the prince’s hurt inquiry, by remarking that to be wanting in desert and wanting in judgment are two different things; and, finally, it THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. [Acr II. “Who chooseth me shall have as much as he de- serves.”’ 0 Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head ? Is that my prize? Are my deserts no better ? Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, And of opposéd natures.!1 Ar. What is here ? [ Reads. | The fire seven times tried this: Seven times tried that judgment is, That did never choose amiss. Some there be that shadows kiss ; Such have but a shadow’s bliss: There be fools alive, I wis,” Silver’d o’er; and so was this. Take what wife you will" to bed, I will ever be your head: So be gone: you are sped. Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here : With one fool’s head I came to woo, But I go away with two.— Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth.14 [Hait with his train. Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. Oh, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy,— Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. Finter a Messenger. Mess. Where is my lady ? Por. Here: what would my lord?" Mess. Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord; From whom he bringeth sensible regreets,46— To wit (besides commends, and courteous breath,) Gifts of rich value. Yet? I have not seen So likely"8 an embassador of love. A day in April never came so sweet, serves to show Portia’s logical and equitable understanding, which harmoniously prepares for what follows of her assuming the lawyer’s robe, and undertaking the legal adventure. Mr. Rushton (in his pamphlet entitled, ‘‘ Shakespeare’s Legal Maxims,” which is a sequel to his “ Shakespeare a Lawyer,’’) has shown that this speech of Portia’s is in strict accordance with the maxim in English law which prohibits a man from being a judge in his own cause, or in a cause wherein he is interested; and thus again, in still another sense, it serves as a comment upon what the Prince of Arragon has just said. (112) Iwis. From the German wissen, to know; and the German gewiss, surely, certainly, for certain. (113) Take what wife you will. To this passage Johnson and other editors object; saying, “The poet had forgotten [as if Shake- speare ever forgot anything ! especially involving discrepancy] that he who missed Portia was never to marry any woman.” But “Take what wife you will” does not so much mean ‘take in future,’ as “might at any time have taken;’ and even if the “will” be strictly taken as referring to a coming period, it would be but an added gibe in the mocking schedule—a reminder of that wedlock which is henceforth forbidden. (114) Wroth. An old word for that which causes writhing; ‘misfortune,’ ‘ calamity,’ ‘ disaster.’ (115) What would my lord? Portia’s playful retort; uttered in the gay relief of her heart, at finding herself freed from another unwelcome suitor. (116) Regreets. Renewed salutations. It must be remembered that Bassanio has before been a visitor at Belmont. See Note 52, Acti. “Sensible” is here used for ‘tangible,’ ‘substantial. (117) Yet. Used for ‘ as yet,’ ‘till now,’ ‘hitherto.’ (118) Likely. Here used in its sense of ‘probable,’ “befitting ;” and in its sense of ‘ pleasing,’ ‘ calculated to inspire liking.’ a ey mo at) —_ os =a? ce baa 1 £ Ser oe we i Ni \ 1 i i } \s S ~ > 3 SS =i a SSS = \ = = SS SS = = = = = | "| tl WWW = ent ae —— : a } amet cea Se = : | \y __ => = = =SS = ‘ rau - SSRIS E s — | { = = SS = = = I] See, . ae _ Se = == ]SS= ' S — = = = 2 = a I \ 5 . Z Nl 222 ess = So eee " NDAD wh = J SS ————————————— =u S =a= —_—_—_—SSS=S== = Kies : Ae ele = = = : = BZ = — = = = = = \i| : Spe a re = = ir = = | hy L a | : Engraved by W. J, PALMER. 4 / t UH | Nev gttney ttl Mi | = SSS SS s et ny i —— : > ie ( \\ SS | : dill ‘ : ; a l I I) i‘ : | “ Es 7 i Piva L. Drawn by W. SMAL “MERCHANT oF VENICE,” Act IIT., Scene 1. SHYLOCK AND TUBAL, Shylock. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck ? Tubal. Antonio, as I heard in Genoa 14 Scenx I.] To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 385 Thou spend’st such high-day wit! in praising him.— Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly. Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! | Hxeunt. Solanio. How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants ? Shylock. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter's flight. Act IIT. Scene I. AO TT. SCENE 1—Venicr. A street. Enter Souanto and SaLarino, Solan. Now, what news on the Rialto ? Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place ;1 a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip, Report, be an honest woman of her word. Solan. I would she were as lying a gossip in (119) High-day wit. Style of language suited for a festival. See Note 56, Act v., ‘‘ Much Ado about Nothing.” (1) I think they call the place. By such touches as these—naming the celebrated Goodwin Sands thus dubiously, and adverting to its terrible quicksands with a kind of hearsay description—Shake- speire keeps perpetually before us the circumstance that the scene 49 that as ever knapped ginger,’ or made her neigh- bours believe she wept for the death of a third hus- band. But it is true,—without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk,—that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,—Oh, that I had a title good enough to keep his name company !— Salar. Come, the full stop. Solan. Ha,—what say’st thou ?—Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship. Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses. Solan. Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil of his play is abroad. For a similar art-purpose, he has thrown in the words, “They have in England a coin that bears,” &c., Act ii., sec. 7. (2) As ever knapped ginger. To “knap” is to break short off; to snap, to crack. The habitual use of ginger as a stimulant in old age, has lasted to a much later date than Shakespeare’s time. in the present passage we have an instance of Shakespeare’s elliptical 386 cross my prayer,—for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.— Enter Suyiock. How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants? Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter’s flight. Salar. That’s certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. Solan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledged; and then it is the complexion® of them all to leave the dam. Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! Solan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years ? Shy. Isay, my daughter is my flesh and blood. Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenish.—But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no? Shy. There I have another bad match: a bank- rupt, a prodigal,t who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto;—a beggar, that was used to come so smug® upon the mart :—let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer;—let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ;—let him look to his bond. Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh: what’s that good for? Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies ; and what’s his reason? I ama Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, style. “As lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger, or made,” &c. In ordinary construction, there would be ‘any one who,’ or ‘any gossip who,’ between ‘‘as” and “ever;” but, in his condensed way of writing, the words are understood. (3) Complexion. Used for nature, constitutional tendency. (4) A prodigal. Warburton expresses astonishment at this epithet being applied to Antonio ; “ who,’ he observes, “is a plain, reserved, parsimonious merchant.’ But, in Shylock’s eyes, “to lend money for a Christian courtesy,” to “lend out money gratis in low simplicity’? (as his own words express it), and moreover to borrow t iree tiousand ducats for a friend at so great personal risk, would certainly constitute prodigality. (5) Smug. Studiously attired; neat and trim to precision in dress. ‘Tuis is tie meaning of the word, as derived from the Teutonic smuck, dress ; but here, as applied by Shylock to Antonio, it seems to give tie additional effect of irreproachable appearance, air of co npetence and sufficiency, look of complete propriety. (6) Why, revenge. ‘T'o taose who, like the present editors, can rememb.r Edmund Kean’s delivery of this superb speech of wild wrata vleading its claim to some s iow of justice, there is excitement in recalling tae wonderful eyes flashing out their red sparkles, the body writaing feom head to foot, tae arm t srown upward as witness to tue reco.ded oat of veng:ance. The attitude, as the voice, rose to a sublime climax when these words were uttered; then ticre THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. [Acr III. what is his humility ? revenge: if a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? why, revenge.’ The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. Enter a Servant. Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both. Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. Solan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Souan., Sarar., and Servant. Enter Tusa. Shy. How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa?’ hast thou found my daughter ? Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her. Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a dia- mond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frank- fort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; T never felt it till now:—two thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels.—I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them ?—Why, so:—and I know not what’s spent in the search: why thou—loss upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satis- faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring but what lights o’ my shoulders; no sighs but o’ my breathing; no tears but o’ my shedding. Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,— Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck ? Tub. —hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. Shy. I thank God! I thank God! it true ? Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck. Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal:—good news, good news! ha, ha!—where? in Genoa ?® Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night fourscore ducats. Is it true, is was a drop, both of person and tone, as he hissed out the closing sentence of deep, concentrated malignity. (7) From Genoa. In this scene there is notable indication of Shakespeare’s systemof Dramatic Time. At its opening, Shylock’s vehement words— You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter’s flight,’ give the effect of Short Time; they seem uttered in the first fury of his discovery of that flight, and, by making it thus for a moment wear the appearance of a recent event, the third act is linked on to the period in the previous acts. But as the scene proceeds, Long Time is artfully introduced by such words as the present passage—‘‘ What news from Genoa?” show- ing tuat the Jew has traced his davguter thither by means of the “search” he has set on foot. Tnen follow Tubal’s account of Jessica’s profusion; her lavish flinging away of her father’s gold; her idlo parting with his treasured ring; Tubal’s own stay at Genoa; his talk with the shipwrecked “ sailors;” his news of the merchant's lost argosy; his return to Venice, and conversation on the way with Antono’s creditors; above all, the ingeniously thrown-in sentence—“ Bespeak him a fortnight before.” Every one of these serve to bring well before the mind a considerable lapse of time, and to advance it towards the period when the date of the bond shall have expired and the forfeiture become due. (8) Where? in Genoa? This is misprinted in the Folio, ‘here in Genowa;’ but “where” is evidently rigat. Scene IT.] Shy. Thou stickest a dagger in me:—I shall never see my gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats ! Tub. There came divers of Antonio’s creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. Shy. Iam very glad of it:—Ill plague him; PU torture him :—I am glad of it. Tub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey. Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise ;? I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a-wilderness of monkeys. Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I can make what mer- chandise I will. Go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [| Hxeunt. ° ——_-—_—- SCENE Il.—Betmonr. A room in Portta’s mansion. Enter Bassanto, Portia, Gratrano, Nerissa, and Attendants. Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, I lose your company : therefore, forbear a while. There’s something tells me (but it is not love), I would not lose you; and you know yourself, Hate counsels not in such a quality. But lest you should not understand me well (And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought), I would detain you here some month or two” Before you venture forme. I could teach you ‘How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; So will I never be: so may you miss me ; But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin, That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, They have o’er-look’d! me, and divided me ; One half of me is yours, the other half yours,— (9) Turquoise. This delicate blue stone, found in the clayey earth of Persia, was formerly supposed to possess virtuous properties that, beyond its beauty, rendered it valuable. It was believed to change colour, and become paler or livelier-hued, conformably with the varying health of its possessor, when ill or well. It was also believed to prevent enmity, and to make man and wife agree together. Asa preservative of her future husband’s love towards her, this turquoise ring may have been given by the maiden Leah to the “bachelor” Shylock; and certain it is that he regards this token of old days and young love with a passionate fondness far different from any thought of the gem’s intrinsic or even attributed value. Thoroughly in Shakespeare’s way is the introduction of a touch of natural tenderness like this, in the very midst of Shylock’s rancour against Antonio. (10) Some month or two. Even these words, which form but the proposal of a lengthened period, afford one instance among many of the mode in which Shakespeare subtly conveys impression of Dramatic Time. He wishes here to induce belief in the lapse of months ; so as to bring on the date of the bond’s becoming due, at the end of ‘‘three months:’’ he therefore, by the talking of “ some month or two,” and by Portia’s avowal of a desire “ to peize the time, to eke it, and to draw it out in length,’ almost insensibly produces the idea of much time having actually passed. (11) O’er-look’d. Bewitched, spell-bound. See Note 18, Act v., “Merry Wives.” , (12) Prove it so. ‘If it should prove so.’ The whole passage is THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 387 Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours! Oh, these naughty times Put bars between the owners and their rights! And so, though yours, not yours.—Prove it so,!* Let fortune pay the due for it,—not I. I speak too long; but *tis to peize!’ the time, To eke it, and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election. Bass. Let me choose ; For, as I am, I live upon the rack. Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess What treason there is mingled with your love. Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, | Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : There may as well be amity and life "Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, Where men enforced do speak anything. Bass. Promise me: life, and I'll confess the truth. Por. Well then, confess, and live. Bass. Confess, and love, Had been the very sum of my confession. Oh, happy torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! But let me to my fortune and the caskets. [Curtain drawn from before the caskets. Por. Away, then. Iam lock’d in one of them: If you do love me, you will find me out.— Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof.— Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music: that the comparison May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, And wat’ry death-bed for him. He may win; And what is music then? then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow To a new-crownéd monarch: such it is As are those dulcet sounds in break of day That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear, And summon him to marriage.—Now he goes, With no less presence, but with much more love, Than young Alcides, when he did redeem The virgin tribute!’ paid by howling Troy To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice ; The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, obsearely expressed; giving just the characteristic effect requisite in a woman letting a man see her love for him through veiledly indirect language. She has said that if he “miss”’ her (by choosing the wrong casket), he will make her “sin” in wishing to be “ for- sworn” (by breaking her oath of marrying in accordance with her father’s will). She goes on to complain that his eyes have be- witched her into giving him her heart; and follows this complaint by another—that her perverse destiny deprives her of her owner- ship, and of her right to confer it upon him; therefore, though she is now his in heart, she cannot become his entirely. Then she exclaims—‘If it should prove so, the ill-fortune of the wrongly< chosen casket ought to pay the penalty for my sin of forswearing myself, not I.’ ; (13) To peize. To weigh down; to cause to drag on heavily. French, peser, weigh ; pesant, heavy, weighty. _ , (14) A swan-like end. Alluding to the poetical belief that the swan, when dying, utters a musically mournful ery. (15) Presence. Used for god-like appearance. (16) The virgin tribute. To appease the wrath of Neptune, whom Laomedon, King of Troy, had offended, a Trojan maiden was annually given to be devoured by_a sea-~-monster sent from the angry god. When the lot fell upon Hesione, Laomedon’s daughter, Hercules offered to rescue her, and succeeded in so doing, Shake- speare calls the women of Troy “the Dardanian wives,” because Dardanus, who built the city of Dardania, was said to have founded the Trojan kingdom. 388 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. With blearéd visages, come forth to view The issue of th’ exploit. Go, Hercules! Live thou,” I live:—with much, much more dismay I view the fight, than thou that mak’st the fray. Music, and this Sone, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. Tell me where is fancy }8 bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourishéd ? Reply, reply. tt is engender’d in the eyes, With gazing fed; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy’s knell; Ill begin it,— Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell. Bass. So may the outward shows be least them- selves : The world is still deceiv’d with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being season’d with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What curséd error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve!’ it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? There is no vice so simple, but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts :”° How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ; Who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk ;*! And these assume but valour’s excrement” To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, And you shall see ’tis purchas’d by the weight ; Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it: So are those crispéd* snaky golden locks, Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, Upon supposed fairness, often known To be the dowry of a second head,” The skull that bred them, in the sepulchre. Thus ornament is but the guiléd™ shore To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf (17) Live thou. Used for ‘If thou live.’ (18) Fancy. Love; enamoured preference. (19) Approve. Justify, vindicate, maintain. (20) On his outward parts. “His” used for ‘its.’ (21) Livers white as milk. The belief prevailed that the colour of the liver and of the blood indicated a greater or less degree of courage, according to their comparative paleness or redness. See Note 3, Act ii. (22) Valowr’s eacrement. yr thi tl ATS iuiipaL AnH pee i iit UTIL mater es) Lorenzo. i CUU ERRATA Tom In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew. Dor. Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter :—why should we go in?P— My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; And bring your music forth into the air. | Eait STEPH. (9) With his horn, &c. The “post,’’ or postman, formerly had a horn slung round his neck; partly as an official badge, partly that he might sound it, on his arrival, to announce,the bringing of news. There are many allusions to this custom in the elder dramatists ; and one at so late a date as in the opening of Book iv. of Cowper’s “Task” (“The Winter Evening ”) :— “Hark ! ’tis the twanging horn! o’er yonder bridge,’’ &e. (10) Patines. A “ patine’’ (from the Latin, patina) is the small flat plate of gold used with the chalice in the administration of the Eucharist. (11) In his motion like an angel sings. The idea of the ‘music of the spheres,’ or the melodious sound produced by the heavenly bodies in their course of revolution, is as ancient as it is familiar to every one. But Shakespeare, as usual, has added another beauty to a popular and poetical belief, Milton, in his “ Arcades; ” Act V. Scene I. There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st But in his motion like an angel sings," Still quiring to the young-eye’d cherubins : ” Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Coleridge, in his “Remorse;” Wordsworth, in his “Power of Sound,” each has a fine passage on this grand subject. (12) The young-ey’d cherubins. ‘“ Cherubins’’ was formerly the plural used instead of ‘cherubim;’ but for the epithet “ young- ey’d x we are solely indebted to Shakespeare, and a matchless one it is ! (13) Such harmony is in immortal souls. “Such” here stands for ‘the like,’ or ‘similar;’ and the meaning of the line is illustrated by a sentence of Hooker, in his “ Ecclesiastical Polity,” where he says of musical harmony that “such is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in every part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony.” ; (14) Close it in. This is the reading of one of the Quartos; mis- printed in the other Quarto, and in the Folio, ‘ close in it.’ This “it” here we take to be an instance of Shakespeare’s way of using that word in reference to something previously named plurally. ve the doctor! Act V. Scene ga Bassanio. By Heaven! it is the same I I had it of him: pardon me, B: Bassanio. Portia, 52 Scene I.| Enter Musicians. Come, ho! and wake Diana’ with a hymn: With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear, And draw her home with music. | Music. Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.}6 Tor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,” Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood ; Tf they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet ® Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus : Let no such man be trusted.!’—Mark the music. neighing Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance. Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws his beams ! So shines a good deed in a naughty”? world. Ner. When the meon shone, we did not see the candle. See Note 24, Act i. of this play; and Note 2, Act iii., “The Tempest.” In the present passage “it’’ means ‘the human soul,’ one of the “immortal souls” mentioned in the penultimate line. The “it’’ at the end of the present line, of course, alludes to “harmony;’’ and the poet’s having used “it” in allusion to two different things in the same sentence, together with his condensa- tion of exuberant thoughts into the same passage, renders a recollection of his peculiar style essential to the comprehension of such speeches as the present. ‘‘This muddy vesture of decay ’’ is a poetical expression for the corporeal and material part of man— his mortal body. (15) Diana. Here used in allusion to the moon, as afterwards “the moon” is used for Diana. (16) Iam never merry when I hear sweet music. For the sake of this one line (a line that was an especial favourite with one of the profoundest musicians we ever knew), we feel inclined to forgive Jessica anything we may have charged her with elsewhere. See Notes 71 and 78, Act ii., and Note 55, Act iii. Her avowal of the effect that music has upon her shows her to be capable of ameliora- tion ; and we may trust that this, her appreciation of a woman like Portia, and her husband’s loving influence, may ultimately soften her into excellence. But thus it is that Shakespeare ever throws in redeeming points; making his characters illustrate “the good and ill together’’ that exist in human nature. (17) Unhandled colts. We have allusion to the effect produced by music upon “unback’d colts”? in “The Tempest,” iv. 1; and it is worth observing the characteristic difference of the description placed in the mouth of the frolicsome sprite Ariel, and in that of the staider Lorenzo, having reference to the same point. _ 08) The poet. Ovid; who, in his story of Orpheus and Eury- dice, not only describes the Thessalian musician as drawing the “trees, stones, and floods’’ on earth; but, when penetrating to the shades below in search of his lost wife, causing those doomed to everlasting penal labours to suspend them—'Tantalus to desist from pursuing the receding stream; Ixion’s wheel to cease rolling; the Belides to pause in their fruitless toil of filling leaky vessels ; and Sisyphus to refrain from pushing up the ever-mounting, ever- falling stone. (19) Let no such man be trusted. In the time when Shakespearian commentators tilted at each other in successive notes of the Variorum Editions, upon certain passages in our poet’s plays, there THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. All Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by; and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters.—Music! hark ! Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without re- spect :*! Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season season’d are To their right praise and true perfection !— Peace, ho! the moon” sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak’d. [ Music ceases. Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv’d, of Portia. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice.” Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. Por. We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare, Which™ speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return’d? Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming. Por. Go in, Nerissa ; Give order to my servants that they take was an exchange of weapons (or sharp opinions) upon the lines under consideration; one critic pronouncing the thought here to be “ extremely fine,’ the other denouncing it as neither pregnant with physical or moral truth, nor poetically beautiful in an eminent degree. That Shakespeare promulgated the axiom, “The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not mov’d,’ &¢., as a solemnly delivered and deliberately uttered dogma, no one, we should think, would imagine; but that it is in consonance with the poetical creed as to the weight of refining influence in music, held by men from the remotest ages, and that it is precisely one of those ardent expressions inspired by the immediate hearing of music, and by the impressions and emotions it produces, no one who has experienced those impressions and emotions will doubt. (20) Naughty. Formerly used with greater force of meaning than at present. See Note 46, Act v., “Much Ado about Nothing.’’ Here it means ‘evil,’ ‘wicked,’ ‘corrupt;’ yet, somehow, its lighter form of expression harmonises well with the light-hearted mood, the condition of internal happiness, that possesses Portia at this moment of her return from having successfully fulfilled a project for rescuing her husband’s friend from peril incurred for his sake. Her sweet cheerfulness, her readiness to find everything doubly bright, doubly melodious, has the exquisite charm of a spirit at ease with itself, from conscious rectitude. It is the spiritual evidence of the moral lesson taught by Shakespeare in this seene— felicity attained from good achieved. (21) Respect. This word here includes two meanings: it has the sense of ‘regard,’ ‘attention,’ ‘consideration ’ (see Note 45, Act ii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream’’); and it also has the sense of ‘respectively,’ ‘relatively,’ as modified by concomitant circum- stances. (22) The moon. Here used for Diana. See Note 15, Act v. This allusion to the lovely mythological story of Diana’s enamoured visits to the sleeping shepherd of Mount Latmos, is introduced here with beautiful and almost epithalamic appropriateness. In the old copies “ho!” is misprinted ‘how;’ not an unusual typo- graphical error. (23) By the bad voice. Just one of those playful ironies that Shakespeare puts into the mouths of his women; Portia knowing full well that neither her own voice, nor that ever-welcome fluty one of the bird of spring, is “‘ bad.” (24) Which. Here used for ‘who.’ See Note 27, Act iv. 412 No note at all of our being absent hence ;— Nor you, Lorenzo ;—Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds.” Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet : We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; It looks a little paler: ’tis a day, Such as the day is when the sun is hid. Eimter Bassanto, Antonio, Gratrano, and their followers. Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.” Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me: But God sort’ all!—You are welcome home, my lord. Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend : This is the man, this is Antonio, To whom I am so infinitely bound. Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him ; For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.” Gra. [To Nerissa.] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong ; In faith I gave it to the judge’s clerk: Would he were chok’d that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what’s the matter? Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me; whose posy® was For all the world like cutler’s poetry*! Upon a knife, “Love me, and leave me not.’ Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death ; And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective,*? and have kept it. Gave it a judge’s clerk! no, Heaven’s my judge, The clerk will ne’er wear hair on’s face that had it. (25) A tucket sounds. “A tucket’’ meant a flourish on the trumpet; from the Italian toccata, a musical prelude. (26) °Tis a day, such as the day, &c, Those who have witnessed the pale gold splendour of an Italian moonlight will feel the truth of this passage; and the poet’s bringing it thus visibly before the reader’s eye, not only serves to give the colouring of Italy to the scene, but serves to depict the feelings of Portia, who is precisely in that mood of mind when we involuntarily notice the beauty of the natural influences around us. (27) We should hold day, &c. ‘We should have day here now, as eres it at the Antipodes, if you would walk when it is night. (28) Sort. Here used for ‘dispose,’ ‘cause to befall or occur.’ See Note 30, Act iv., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (29) Breathing courtesy. ‘Courtesy composed of breath,’ or mere verbal courtesy. (30) Posy. Motto; inscription. “ Posy” is a contraction of the word ‘ poesy ;’ and in the Folio it is printed ‘ poesie ’ here. (31) Cutler’s poetry. It was the custom for cutlers to have THE MERCHANT OF. VENICE. [Acr V. Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,— A kind of boy; a little scrubbéd* 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. Por. You were to blame,—I must be plain with ou,— 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 ’twere to me, I should be mad at it. Bass. [Aside.] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it. Gra. 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 begg’d mine: And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings. Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? Not that, I hope, which you receiv’d of me. Bass. 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. Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. By Heaven! I will ne’er come in your bed Until I see the ring. Ner. Nor I in yours Till I again see mine. Bass. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, If you did know for whom I gave the ring, And would conceive for what I gave the ring, And how unwillingly I left the ring, When naught would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure. Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain* the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. What man is there so much unreasonable, mottoes inscribed, by means of aqua-fortis, upon the knives they sold for giving away as keepsakes. (32) Leave me not. “ Leave,’’ as here used, meant ‘ give away,’ ‘part with.’ See Note 30, Act iv., ‘Two Gentlemen of Verona.’’ (33) Should have been respective. ‘Should have respected your pledged word,’ ‘ should have been regardful of your honour.’ See Note 21, Act v. (34) Scrubbéd. This word comprises the two senses of ‘ stunted,’ ‘stubbed,’ or ‘stubby,’ like a dwarf tree or shrub (‘shrub’ and ‘scrub’ being at one time used synonymously ; witness the name of “Wormwood Scrubs,” which was originally a place covered with ee or brushwood), and of ‘scrubby,’ contemptible, pitiful, shabby. (35) He would not leave it. ‘He would not part with it.’ Again, . little farther on: “How unwillingly I left the ring;” that is, ‘gave the ring.’ (36) Contain. Hold, keep, retain. There is still an expression commonly used of a person in a suppressed rage —‘ He could hardly contain his fury ;’ and Lord Bacon employs the word thus when he Scene I.] Tf you had pleas’d to have defended it With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?*” Nerissa teaches me what to believe : Tl die for’t, but some woman had the ring. Bass. No, by mine 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 had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? I was enfore’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 blesséd candles of the night,* Had you been there, I think you would have begg’d The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Por. Let not that doctor e’er come near my house : Since he hath got the jewel that I lov’d, And that which you did swear to keep for me, I will become as liberal” as you; Tl not deny him anything I have: Know him [ shall, I am well sure of it: Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus: If you do not, if I be left alone, Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, Tl have that doctor for my bedfellow. Ner. And JI his clerk; therefore be well advis’d How you do leave me to mine own protection. Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him, then. Ant. Iam the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome not- withstanding. Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforcéd wrong ; And, in the hearing of these many friends, ‘I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself,— Por. Mark you but that! - In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; In each eye, one :—swear by your double self,” And there’s an oath of credit. Bass. Nay, but hear me: says, “To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man, there be two things.” Shakespeare himself uses “contain” in the sense of ‘ restrain,’ elsewhere. (37) Held as a ceremony. ‘ Held sacred,’ ‘kept religiously.’ The whole passage—its construction being somewhat involved—means, What man could have been so unreasonable (if you had chosen to defend it zealously), and so wanting in modesty, as to have urged your giving up a thing you held so dear?’ (38) A cwil doctor. The expression is used half punningly, for a doctor of civil law, and for a doctor courteous in speech and manner. Here “ which”’ is again used for ‘ who.’ (39) These blesséd candles of the night. Shakespeare has more than once, elsewhere, used this epithet for the stars; and it may have been in popular use, for in some ancient Saxon poetry pre- served in Hickes’s “‘ Thesaurus,” the sun is called ‘God’s candle.’ The old English writers were not afraid of a simple, homely epithet ; and it sometimes has a robust force of effect that is ill substituted by a tamer, if more refined, word. (40) Liberal. Used here for prodigal, profuse, lavish. (41) Argus. Being possessed of a hundred eyes, two only of which slept at a time, he was set by Juno to watch the nymph Io, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 413 Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear I never more will break an oath with thee. Ant. 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 advisedly.“ fore Then you shall be his surety. Give him this ; And bid him keep it better than the other. Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring g. Bass. By Heaven! it is the same I gave the doctor ! Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio ; For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; For that same scrubbéd boy, the doctor’s clerk, In lieu of this* last night did lie with me. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high- ways In summer, where the ways are fair enough ; What! are we cozen’d ere we have deserv’d it? Por. Speak not so grossly. — You are all amaz’d : Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; It comes from Padua, from Bellario: There you shall find that Portia was the doctor ; Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, And even but now return’d; I have not yet Enter’d my house.—Antonio, you are welcome ; And I have better news in store for you Than you expect: unseal this letter soon ; There you shall find three of your argosies Are richly come to harbour suddenly : You shall not know by what strange acciden - I chancéd on this letter. Ant. IT am dumb. Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not ? Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cozen’d ? Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man. Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow: When I am absent, then lie with my wife. who had been changed into a heifer by Jupiter; but Mercury, after lulling to sleep with the sound of his lyre all Argus’s eyes at once, slew him; and the goddess placed his eyes in the tail of her pea- cocks—the birds that drew her car, and were held sacred to her. (42) Your double self. “ Double” is here used punningly ; in the sense of ‘twofold,’ and in the sense of ‘ deceitful,’ full of duplicity. See Note 29, and Note 73, Act v., “Much Ado about Nothing.”’ (43) Wealth. Here used, as it still is in the word ‘common- wealth,’ for ‘weal,’ ‘well-being,’ ‘advantage,’ ‘ prosperity.’ (44) Adwisedly. ‘ Deliberately,’ ‘purposely,’ ‘designedly.’ See Note 12, Act ii. é (45) In liew of this. ‘In exchange for this,’ ‘as an equivalent for this.’ See Note 40, Act iv. (46) Where the ways, 4c. In some editions “ where” has been changed to ‘when, as the more consistent word here; and from the idea that the “where” of the Folio was a probable misprint. But considering that “there”’ is used for ‘then’ in a passage of the “Tempest” (“The afternoon to sleep, there thou mayst brain him,”’ Act iii., sc. 2), and also in “ Romeo and Juliet”’ (“This afternoon; and there she,’ &c., Act ii., sc. 4), we leave the text as originally given in the present passage. 414 Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ;*7 For here I read for certain that my ships Are safely come to road. Por. How now, Lorenzo ! My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. Ner. Ay, and Ill give them him without a fee.— There do I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possess’d of. Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starvéd people. (47) Living. Here used for wealth, -possessions; what Shylock (Act iv., sc. 1) calls “the means whereby I live.’ The word is still used in this sense, in the phrase, ‘earn my living;’ that is, ‘earn the means whereby I may live.’ (48) Road. Port, harbour, roadstead. (49) It is almost morning. To the last, Shakespeare maintains the carefully systematised marking of Dramatic Time throughout this enchanting play; where the difficulties of the simultaneous Short Time and Long Time, needful for the due development of the » my ~S eat Tat THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Ra Noh andt Loe SHALL SG. 15 CL WHAT A ee ¥ QO a Ze HOOS > E 2 ory [Acr V. Por. It is almost morning,” And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these events at full. Let us go in; And charge us there upon inter’gatories,® And we will answer all things faithfully. Gra. Let it be so: the first inter’gatory That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: But were the day come, I should wish it dark, That I were couching with the doctor’s clerk. Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring. [ Exeunt. double plot, are met with a skill equalling the mastery with which the whole of its composition is conducted. (50) Inter’gatories. An elision formerly in use for ‘interrogatories.’ Lord Campbell (page 52 of “ Shakespeare’s Legal Acquirements’ a has shown that “charge us there upon inter’ gatories,” and “answer all things faithfully,” are technicalities of English legal procedure 3 and it is another instance of the poet’s ceaseless touches of characteristic individuality, his having made Portia thus sportively keep up her lawyerly tone in this final b> ter with her husband. i Cro s=THME|((.y HALLGETAS MUGH j'¥ AS WE DESERVES * a: AMIN MN \a\\\ y) SS Yi \ SAN y s \ \\ Cyt “SHY. GH LEE HY} Lj. Uy LE: GUE WI; LAA ZI Z gz \\ SAY l AG j AY TaN i r ne IW ‘I ———\ I ti yp Mt . ts N IH \y ne TH iH cnn EA 2B H Tt Rt ey Up WZ, DRAMATIS PERSON Zi. —e0— Duke, Senior, living in exile. Frepertckx, his brother, and usurper of his dominions. ae } lords attending on the exiled Duke. > Le Bnav, a courtier attending upon Frederick. CHAR es, a wrestler. OLIVER, JAQUES, sons of Sir Roland de Bois. ORLANDO, enue | servants to Oliver. 3 ToucustTong, a clown. Srr Oxriver Marrext, a vicar. ee \ shepherds. Wim, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. A person representing Hymen. Rosatinp, daughter to the exiled Duke. Cerra, daughter to Frederick. Puese, a shepherdess. Aubrey, a country wench. Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants, &e. Scune—First near Oliver’s house ; afterwards in the usurper’s Court, and in the Forest of Arden. Asem yvaOeUt oll Kel; IAte ACL ale SCENE I.—O.utver’s orchard. Enter Orntanndo and ApAm, Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion—bequeathed me by will’ but poor a thousand crowns,° and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more pro- perly, stays‘ me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their (1) The first known printed copy of “As You Likes Ir” is that in the Folio, 1623. But as there exists an entry in the Stationers’ Register, “4 Auguste, As you like yt, a book,’’ believed to be for the year 1600, we may entertain some hope that a quarto copy of this play may hereafter be discovered. Traces of evidence point to the fact that this exquisite sylvan drama was probably written in the year 1599; and, from internal evidence, we have an impression that it may well have issued from his pen about that period. There is the same enchanting air of elastic spirits in the composition which marks another of his productions probably written about this time—“ Much Ado;” and it is pleasant to believe that both these plays emanated from the cheerful mood that seems to have possessed him when he was about thirty-five years of age. The source of the plot of “As You Like It”’ is to be found in a novel by Thomas Lodge, called “ Rosalynde, Euphues’ Golden Legacye,”’ 1590; the story of which novel bears resemblance to some points in the “Cook’s Tale of Gamelyn,” attributed to Chaucer. But whereas in the Euphuistic romance there is that stiffness and overstrained hyperbole which mars even a graceful story—and in the old ballad tale a hardness, roughness, and dryness which destroy our belief in its being really Chaucer’s, though it possesses certain Chaucerian touches—there are, on the contrary, in Shakespeare’s charming play, an ease, a freshness, a vivacity, yet withal a tenderness and truth intensely home-telling, that make the production essentially his own. While in the ballad-tale and the novel Orlando is merely brave and Herculeanly strong, in the play he is a type of manly spirit and modesty combined; while in Lodge Rosalynde is a heroine such as Euphuists loved to depict, in Shakespeare Rosalind is a piece of breathing perfection—playful, graceful, witty, wise, loving, pure—as genuine as she is vivacious. The old originals may have furnished our poet with the first sketch; but he filled his canvas with the created and consummate portraitures of Touchstone, Jaques, and Audrey; while he re-touched those figures already indicated with a skill that make them virtually his own. Compare the Adam Spencer of “The Cook’s Tale of Gamelyn”’ with the old Adam of Shakespeare, the Coridon of Lodge with the Corin of Shakespeare, and the poet’s power of vitalising outlined characters 53 feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired :* but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that Nature gave me, his countenance® seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds,’ bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines*® my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. will be strikingly apparent. It is delightful to know that we possess traditional proof that Shakespeare himself played the part of the faithful old servitor; a strong indication that it was a favourite one with him. To have heard the author utter that speech of simple, trustful devotion he had written! (Act ii., sc. 3.) Well might Coleridge exclaim—‘ It is worth having died two punieed years ago, to have heard Shakespeare deliver a single ne.” (2) Bequeathed me by will. Here we must understand ‘he’ before “bequeathed,” as it is also understood before “charged,” immediately after. Orlando is speaking of his father; and the effect of this understood nominative in the speech is excellent, as conveying the impression of a conversation already begun and now proceeding. The sentence, “As thou sayest,”’ carries on this im- pression. The omission of the word ‘he’ here has another advan- tage ; it allows its introduction immediately after, in the sentence, “My brother Jaques he keeps at school,’’ as an allusion to Oliver ; which else would have made a confusion of antecedents. (3) But poor a thousand crowns. This form of expression—putting the adjective before the article—is found in old writers before Shakespeare’s time; and he himself has a somewhat similar one in “ Antony and Cleopatra,” v. 2, “ What poor an instrument may do a noble deed!”’ ; (4) Stays. Some editors change this to ‘stys’ or ‘sties;’ but “stays”? is only another form of “keeps,’’ the word previously used; and Orlando uses it to express simply retaining at home, without entertaining at home, as “keeping ’’ includes both senses. (5) Riders dearly hired. Here again, ‘are’ is understood before “ dearly ;”’ and this elliptical style of expression, so much employed by Shakespeare, is most natural and conversational. Besides, in the present passage, where the word “are” so frequently occurs, the effect is much improved by its omission here. (6) Countenance. Here used—as elsewhere by Shakespeare, and by other writers of his time—to express entertainment, treatment. (7) Hinds. Servants. See Note 46, Act iii., “ Merry Wives.” (8) Mines. Undermines; saps; impairs. ‘“Gentility’’ here means ‘ gentle birth,’ ‘ noble birth.’ 418 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. {[Apam retires. Enter OLIvER. Oli. Now, sir! what make you here ?® Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any- thing. Oli. What mar you then, sir ? Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.” Orl, Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury ? Oli. Know you where you are, sir? Orl. Oh, sir, very well: here in your orchard. Oli. Know you before whom, sir ? Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: [I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.!! Oli. What, boy! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?? Orl. I am no villain: Iam the youngest son of Sir Roland de Bois: he was my father; and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself. Adam. [Coming forward.] Sweet masters, be patient : for your father’s remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow (9) What make you here? ‘What do you do here?’ See Note 26, Act ii, ‘‘ Merry Wives.” (10) Be naught awhile. Instances have been cited to show that this phrase was equivalent to ‘a mischief upon you;’ but it seems to us, from these very instances, that it meant more like ‘make yourself nothing;’ or, in more vulgar parlance, ‘make yourself scarce.’ “Awhile” was often formerly used indefinitely, for an unstated period of time. (11) Reverence. The reverence due to superior age. Oliver, conscious that he morally deserves no reverence to be paid to him, feels this as a sarcasm, and resents it by an attempted blow 3 which Orlando parries, observing that his “elder brother” is “too young”’ in skill and strength of personal contest. (12) Villain. Used in the sense of vile, wicked; and in that of base, low-born. See Note 17, Acti., “ Comedy of Errors.” (13) Be at accord. Be agreed; be reconciled. (14) To grow wpon. To encroach overweeningly, to invade over- bearingly. It also includes the idea of Orlando’s growing into manhood, and into a sense of manhood’s rights and manhood’s power. AS YOU LIKE IT. [ Acrate me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. Orl. I will no farther offend you than becomes me for my good. Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service.—God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Hxeunt OrLANDo and ADAM. Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon'4 me? Iwill physic your rankness,!> and yet give no thousand crowns neither.—Holla, Dennis! Enter Dennis. Den. Calls your worship ? Oli. Was not Charles the duke’s wrestler here to speak with me ? Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you. Oli. Call him in. [Hzit Duynis.]—’Twill be a good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter CHAarLeEs. Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Oli. Good Monsieur Charles,—what’s the new news at the new court ? Cha. There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke’s daughter, be banished with her father ? Cha. Oh, no; for the duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her,—being ever from their cradles bred together,—that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there (15) Rankness. Arrogance; insolence. (16) The forest of Arden. Because the scene of Lodge’s novel is laid in France, because the novel makes the place of exile “the forest of Arden,” and because there is a real forest of Ardenne or Ardennes in F'rench Flanders, the commentators first assert that Shakespeare meant this Flemish forest, and then they assert that he made a great mistake in introducing a palm-tree, a lioness, and a serpent there. But we believe that Shakespeare, by his “ forest of Arden,” meant no special forest, but a typical forest; a forest that represents a poetical forest generally, where lovers, dukes, lords, shepherds, jesters, natural philosophers and artificial philo- sophers, lions and lambs, serpents and goats, oaks and olives, palm- trees and osiers, may all flourish contentedly and plausibly, without disturbing the peace of those whose imaginations accept the truths of poetry as universal truth, not mere geographical, animal, or botanical literalities. The old English word “ Arden” originally signified ‘ woodiness ;’ it was applied to a large wooded district in Warwickshire, called the Forest of Arden; and it was the maiden name of Shakespeare’s own mother—Mary Arden, whose ancient family derived their name from this very forest of their county. Scene IT.] they live like the old Robin Hood of England :” they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world." Oli. What! you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?” Cha. Marry do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal ; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. Ill tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man’s good parts, a secret and villainous contriver” against me his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to’t: for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee—and almost with tears I speak it—there is not one so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomise him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if Well might it in the poet’s mind—as it should in the minds of his readers—serve well for the name of the archetype of poetic and romantic forests. (17) The old Robin Hood of England. By such a touch as this last, “of England,’’ Shakespeare contrives to take his readers out of their own country, and show them that he lays his scene abroad. Be it observed, that in this very point we have proof of his improved art, since the production of his early written play, “The Two Gentlemen of Verona,” where he lets one of the outlaws swear “by the bare scalp of Robin Hood’s fat friar,’’ without any such artistic addition as if the present case. See Note 4, Act iv., “Two vee of Verona.’’ See also Note 1, Act iii., “Merchant of enice. (18) The golden world. Allusions to the golden age of the world— when innocence and happiness prevailed upon earth, when man- kind toiled not, and had no cause for care—abound among poets and poetical writers. Some of the most famous of these de- scriptions may be found in Leigh Hunt’s elegant translation of Tasso’s “ Aminta,”” Fanshaw’s version of Guarini’s “ Pastor Fido,” and Cervantes’ “Don Quixote.” Shakespeare himself has put into the mouth of Gonzalo—when the good old lord is planning an ideal commonwealth—a sketch of a kind of second “golden world.’”’ See Note 15, Act ii., “ Tempest.” (19) The new duke. It will be noticed that in this scene, Shake- speare has given the effect of recentness to the event of the elder duke’s banishment; although, later on, he gives it the effect of having occurred_some time ago. This is one of his strokes of dramatic art. Here, it is needful that the incident should be AS YOU LIKE IT. | 419 ever he go alone again, I’ll never wrestle for prize more: and so, God keep your worship ! Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Hit Cuarizs.]— Now will I stir this gamester:?! I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he.” Yet he’s gentle; never schooled, and yet learned ; full of noble device ; of all sorts** enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised :** but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle*® the boy thither: which now I'll go about. [ Hatt. SCENE IL.—A lawn before the Duxn’s palace. Enter Rosatinp and Crt. Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn** me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee. Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Cel. You know my father hath no child but I,” nor none is he like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir;*8 for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster : there- fore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise related, for the information of those who are reading the first scene, and therefore it is mentioned as “news,” in order to give naturalness to its being detailed by Charles, the court wrestler; but afterwards, dramatic purpose is best served by throwing it somewhat farther back, among past occurrences. : (20) Contriver. Plotter, machinator. See Note 32, Act iv., “Merchant of Venice.” rte (21) Stir this gamester. “Stir” is here used for incite, instigate ; and Shakespeare elsewhere uses “gamester’”’ to express a viva- cious, free-lived person. Here it seems to be tantamount to the mee modern phrase, ‘a mettlesome young spark,’ ‘a forward chap.’ 2 (22) Hates nothing more than he. “ He’’ used for ‘him,’ “I” for ‘me,’ “she” for ‘her, &c., were frequent grammatical licences in Shakespeare’s time. ; (23) Of all sorts. ‘By all ranks;’ ‘by persons of various con- ditions.’ “Enchantingly” is here used for ‘with the force of enchantment,’ ‘with the fascination of a spell.’ : ! (24) Misprised. Taken amiss; undervalued, depreciated, despised. See Note 6, Act iii., “ Much Ado.” (25) Kindle. Urge, spur, excite. (26) Learn. Often used for ‘teach:’ and the original Saxon word leran meant both to teach and to learn; from lere, know- ledge, skill, learning, which might either be instilled or acquired. (27) Hath no child but I. See Note 22, Act i., of this play; and Note 60, Act iii., “‘ Merchant of Venice.’’ (28) Hei. Often used for ‘heiress.’ See Note 6, Act iv:, “ 'I'wo Gentlemen of Verona.” 420 AS YOU LIKE IT. Let me see; what think you of falling in sports. love ? Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal : but love no man in good earnest; nor no farther in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. (Acr I. Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument ? Enter Toucustone. Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Touchstone. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Celia. Were you made the messenger ? Ros. What shall be our sport then ? Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel,” that her gifts may hence- forth be bestowed equally. Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. °Tis true; for those that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favouredly. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to Nature’s: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. Cel. No; when Nature hath made a fair crea- ture, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? (29) Mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel. Johnson gravely protests against the poet’s having “confounded” the type of vicissitude with a spinning-wheel: but Shakespeare puts a playful mingling of the image of uncertainty with that of the thread of life, into a lady’s mouth here; and he has also allowed Cleopatra to use the same blended mythological and housewifely Act 1. Scene II. Nature, when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the cutter-off of Nature’s wit. Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, but Nature’s; who, perceiving” our natural wit too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for always the dul- ness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.—How now, wit! whither wander you ? Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Cel. Were you made the messenger ? Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you. Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ? Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by his idea. (“ Antony and Cleopatra,” iv. 13.) That he knew the strict- nesses of the subject thoroughly, may be evidenced from other passages where he has introduced “ Fortune.” (30) Perceiving. Misprinted ‘perceiveth’ in the first Folio. The second Folio gives the word rightly. IN | \ >= \\ : ~~ Py I/ . so Vb | 4 ly) \\ Ves iY, t/ tw \ 2 / V/] Orlando. Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed. Act I. Scene II. ScuNE IL] honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now, Ill stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good ; and yet was not the knight forsworn. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge ? Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were ; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. Cel. Pr’ythee, who is’t that thou meanest ? Touch. One that old Frederick,*! your father, loves. Cel? My father’s love is enough to honour him enough: speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation *’ one of these days. Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true ; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show.— Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. Ros. With his mouth full of news. Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed. Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Enter Lz Beauv. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what’s the news ? Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. Cel. Sport! of what colour ?* Le Beau. What colour, madam! how shall I answer you? _ (31) Old Frederick. “Old,” here, is probably used by Touchstone with the same effect of familiar speaking as it is by Lucio. See Note 62, Act iv., “ Measure for Measure.’’ (32) Cel. This is misprinted ‘ Ros.’ in the Folio; but the speech evidently belongs to Celia. Theobald made the correction. (33) Whipped for taxation. Professional fool-jesters had the punishment of a whipping, when they exceeded their licence and offended by their freedoms. “Taxation” means satire, censure, accusation, impugning. (34) Sport! of what colour? Celia, in banter of Le Beau’s affected pronunciation of the word “sport” (which we may imagine him to pronounce ‘spawt’), asks him the affectedly expressed question, “ of what colour?” for ‘of what kind?’ There is a similar raillery of court affectation in “ Hamlet,” v.2; where the Prince mystifies Osric, as Celia here mystifies Le Beau. (85) That was laid on with a trowel. A colloquial phrase that still exists, applied to coarse flattery. Here, it means, ‘that was well added, well heaped up.’ (36) If I keep not my rank. Touchstone, as the professional jester, uses this word “rank” to express ‘rate of talking,’ ‘way of follow- ing up one joke with another ;’ while Rosalind puns upon it in the sense of ‘ rancid,’ ‘ offensively scented.’ (37) Amaze. Used here for bewilder, confuse, obfuscate. _ (88) Which you have lost the sight of. In Shakespeare’s way of wittily conducting a dialogue, these words equally refer to the sport of which the ladies have lost the sight, and the subject in question, which their gay banter has suffered to pass out of view. (39) With bills on their necks. These words have been supposed by Farmer and others to belong to Le Beau’s speech; but we pre- serve the Folio arrangement, where they form the beginning of Rosalind’s reply. She, hearing him in these set terms describe the AS YOU LIKE IT. 423 Ros. As wit and fortune will. Touch. Or as the Destinies decree. Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,**— Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. Le Beau. You amaze*’ me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.** fos. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning ; and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. Cel. Well,—the beginning, that is dead and buried. Le Beaw. There comes an old man and his three sons,— Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent erowth and presence ;— Ros. With bills on their necks ;*°—“‘ Be it known unto all men by these presents ”— Le Beau. 'The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke’s wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping. Ros. Alas! * Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost ? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music* in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking ?—Shall we see this wrest- ling, cousin ? youths, imagines them labelled as goodly fellows; and hearing him use the term “ presence,” interrupts him with a play upon the word. Her quick wit therefore suggests the appropriate “bills on their necks ;”? which means either the forest-bills thus worn by hunters, or the bills called in legal technicality ‘ deeds poll,’ which commonly begin, ‘ Know all men by these presents.’ See Note 95, Act iv., **Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ This legal term is well explained in Mr. Rushton’s clever little book, called “Shakespeare a Lawyer.” Advertising bills also in Shakespeare’s time sometimes began with the words, ‘ Be it known unto all men,” &e. (40) Alas! Itis often by such apparently slight touches as these that Shakespeare depicts the moral perfection of his characters, and gives them their crowning charm. By this single word, intro- duced here, he shows us Rosalind pausing in the full career of her sportive word-bandying, struck with pity for the poor old father’s grief. His women are always true women; not mere heedless, heartless wits, but witty from the very depths of their sweet and sensitive natures. (41) Broken music. This was a technicality in Shakespeare’s time for music performed on stringed instruments; probably _be- cause these are unable to sustain unbrokenly or uninterruptedly a long note, as wind instruments can do. Mr. Chappell, in his valu- able work, “Popular Music of the Olden Time,’’ was the first to supply this information; which interprets one or two passages in our poet:that were not previously understood. Some critics object to the word “see”’ here, as applied to sound; but it is in Shake- speare’s style of sometimes playfully confusing the application of verbs, so as to combine varied allusion. Here “see’’ refers to witnessing the so-called “sport,” quite as much as to hearing the sad sound of “rib-breaking.’’ We must suppose Rosalind as slightly emphasising the word “shall” in her subsequent inquiry, “ Shall Te Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duxr Frepericx, Lords, ORLANDO, Cuar.es, and Attendants. Duke F. Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Ros. Is yonder the man? Te Beau. Even he, madam. Cel. Alas! he is too young; yet he looks suc- cessfully. Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin !* are you crept hither to see the wrestling ? fios. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. Duke F. 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. Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. Duke F. Do so: PU not be by. [Duxe goes apart, Le Beau, Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.“ Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty. fos. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler ? Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal- lenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment,” the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt. Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised ;#° we will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward. Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts ; wherein’ I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious ;* if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world we see this wrestling, cousin?” so as to indicate the reluctance she evidently feels to behold it, as shown by Celia’s rejoinder, “ Let us now stay and see it.” (42) Cousin. Here used for niece. See Note 50, Acti., “Much (43) Such odds in themen. The Folio misprints ‘man’ for “men;”’ Hanmer’s correction. (44) The rea call for you. Misprinted in the Folio, ‘the princesse cals for you.’ _ 45) If you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment. The delicacy >f this Shakespsartanls subtle compliment, those commentators would spoil, who propose substituting ‘ our eyes’ and ‘our judgment’ for “your” in both cases. Celia means to say that the clearness of Orlando’s own discernment would suffice to deter him from so unequal a contest, were he but to exercise it instead of letting the boldness of his spirit wholly influence him. (46) Misprised. Misjudged ; undervalued; injured. (47) Wherein. This word is used elliptically here ; for it includes the point that deservedly incurs the ladies’ blame. If we under- AS YOU LIKE IT. [Acr I. no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Ros. Fare you well: pray Heaven I be deceived in you! Cel. Your heart’s desires be with you! Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working, Duke F. You shall try but one fall. Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- suaded him from a first. Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways. Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [CuaRLes and ORLANDO wrestle, Ros. Oh, excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [CHARLES ts thrown. Duke F'. No more, no more. Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed.” Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. [CuHarwes ts borne out. What is thy name, young man P Orl. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son of Sir Roland de Bois. Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else: The world esteem’d thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy : Thou shouldst have better pleas’d me with this deed, © Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: I would thou hadst told me of another father. [Exeunt Duxe Frep., Train, and Lz Brav. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ? Orl. Iam more proud to be Sir Roland’s son, His youngest son;—and would not change that calling,® To be adopted heir to Frederick. Shout, stand the words “for this refusal’’ after “hard thoughts,’’ then “wherein”’ follows naturally ; and, indeed, the subsequent words, “to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything,” as an explanation, imply refusal to have been given. (48) Gracious. Used for ‘graced by fortune,’ ‘favoured by des- tiny.’ The Italian word gratiato, as explained in Florio’s Dictionary, 1598, bears similar interpretation. ‘ (49) Well breathed. ‘Fully exercised ;’ ‘thoroughly entered into action.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses “ breathed” for ‘ exercised ;’ but here it also includes the effect of ‘made to breathe hard,’ or “made to be out of breath.’ (50) Calling. ‘Appellation ;’ ‘the right to be called thus.’ It is well to observe the construction in this speech, as characteristic of Shakespeare’s style. Orlando begins with a phrase that seems to require ‘than’ before “to be adopted heir to Frederick;” but changes his form of expression as he proceeds. This variation in manner of utterance while speaking, is truc to nature; and there- fore it is adopted by Shakespeare, the most natural, as well as greatest, of all writers. Scene IIT.] Ros. My father lov’d Sir Roland as his soul, And all the world was of my father’s mind: Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventur’d. Cel. Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him and encourage him : My father’s rough and envious*! disposition Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserv’d If you do keep your promises in love But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy. Ros. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me, one out of suits with Fortune,” That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.— Shall we go, coz? Cel. Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orl. CanI not say, [thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up Is but a quintain,” a mere lifeless block. Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes ; Pll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir ?— Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown More than your enemies. Cel. Will you go, coz? Ros. Have with you.—Fare you well. | Hxeunt Rosatinp and CELIA. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg’d conference. Oh, poor Orlando! thou art overthrown ; Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Re-enter Lu Brau. Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv’d High commendation, true applause, and love, Yet such is now the duke’s condition, That he misconstrues all that you have done. The duke is humorous :*° what he is, indeed, More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this,— Which of the two was daughter of the duke, That here was at the wrestling ? (51) Envious. Used for ‘grudging;’ ‘full of ill-will.’ a ve But justly. Used elliptically; ‘as’ understood before justly. (53) One out of suits with Fortune. “Out of suits’? seems to be one of those phrases used by Shakespeare, involving many meta- phorical allusions : it may be taken as ‘ deprived of Fortune’s livery or badge;’ as ‘not in accord, or unsuited with Fortune ;’ as ‘un- possessed of the trump-suits in Fortune’s cards ;’ and as ‘out of favour with Fortune.” _ (54) A quintain. Tilting at the quintain was an ancient sport; wherein first a trunk of a tree, and then a wooden block carved into the semblance of a human figure, formed the object at which lances were aimed. There was a shield attached to the block; and the great art of the tilter consisted in smiting this shield, so as to break its ligaments, and strike it to the ground. Therefore Orlando com- pares his power of speech and faculty of address (his “ better parts’’) to the overthrown shield of the quintain, and his mute self to the “mere lifeless block’’ that remains standing there. The word “ quintain” has been derived by some from the Latin quintus, five; and said to be a game celebrated every fifth year. Others derive it from the Welsh gwyntyn, literally, a ‘vane;’ and the game is usual at a Welsh wedding. 54 BS LLL LLL aia s'cea saeecc cn ur R ce e AS YOU LIKE IT. 4 ww ot Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners ; But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter : The other is daughter to the banish’d duke, And here detain’d by her usurping uncle, To keep his daughter company; whose loves® Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. But I can tell you, that of late this duke Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece, Grounded upon no other argument But that the people praise her for her virtues, And pity her for her good father’s sake ; And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady Will suddenly break forth.—Sir, fare you well: Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. [Heit Le Burau. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother :— But heavenly Rosalind ! [ Hawit. SCENE III.—A room in the palace. Enter Ceuta and Rosauinp. Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;—Cupid, have mercy !—not a word ? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any. Cel. But is all this for your father ? Ros. No, some of it is for my father’s child. Oh, how full of briers is this working-day world! Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros, I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try, if I could cry hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. (55) Humorous. Full of ill-humours ; captious, wayward, morose. i (56) Tham I to speak of. “I”? used for ‘me.’ See Note 27, ct i. (57) Smaller. This is misprinted in the Folio ‘taller;’ which Rosalind’s words in the next scene (“I am more than common fall’’) show to be wrong. Rowe, Pope, and others adopt ‘shorter;’ Mr. Staunton reads ‘lower;’ but Malone’s correction, “smaller,” as being nearer to the Folio misprint, and because Shakespeare else- where uses the epithet “small’’ in reference to a woman’s figure (as “small as awand ”—‘ Two Gentlemen of Verona,’’ ii. 3), appears to us to be the more probable original word. We therefore give it in the text; else, we confess to a leaning towards the word ‘ lower.’ First, because in Act iv., se. 3, Celia is thus described: “the woman low, and browner,’’ &c.; and next, because ‘lower’ would accord well (punningly) with the context of Le Beau’s words. (58) Whose loves. Instance of Shakespeare’s use of a pro- noun, not in reference to the immediately precedingly-named antecedent. : ’ 2 (59) My father’s child. The Folio prints ‘my childes father.’ Rowe made the corrected transposition in his second edition. Rosalind, by this reading, says all her trouble is not for her father ; some of it is for herself. AS YOU Ros. Oh, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself! Cel. Oh, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall—But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roland’s youngest son ? Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly ;" yet I hate not Orlando. Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not?” doth he not deserve well ? Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I do.—Look, here comes the duke. Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Enter Duxe Frepericr, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,® And get you from our court. Ros. Me, uncle? Duke F. You, cousin: Within these ten days if that thou be’st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. Ros. I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: If with myself I hold intelligenee, Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ; If that I do not dream, or be not frantic (As I do trust I am not),—then, dear uncle, Never so much as in a thought unborn Did I offend your highness. Duke F. Thus do all traitors : If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself :— Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor : Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter ; there’s enough. Ros. So was I when your highness took his dukedom ; So was I when your highness banish’d him. (60) By this kind of chase. ‘By this kind of pursued argument.’ (61) Hated his father eas * Dearly’’ is here used for in- tensely, extremely, thoroughly. Some have believed this use of the word “dearly ’’ to be the sameas ‘direly,’ or ‘derely.’ See Note 160, Act v., “‘Love’s Labour’s Lost.” But it is probable that * dearly”’ was used for intensely—whether in a good sense or a bad sense, according to the emotion excited. Here it is first used for loving and then for hating; both, in an extreme or intense degree. (62) Why should I not? This has been variously interpreted by various editors; while some have altered it to ‘Why should I?’ But Celia, in a playful way of replying to her cousin’s “ Hate him not,’’ says, “ Why should I not ‘not hate him?’ ” or in other words, “Why should I not love him? doth he not deserve well?’? Where- upon Rosalind rejoins, “‘ Let me love him for that,’ &e. In such a dialogue as this, the sportive iteration of “‘ not,’ in the construc- tion, is exactly in keeping with the previous word-tossing of “hate,” “love,” and “‘dearly.’’ (63) Safest haste. Some editors have proposed for “safest,’’ here, *swiftest,’ ‘fastest,’ &e., which would be mere pleonasms. Shake- speare elsewhere has ‘‘ convenient haste,’’ and ‘‘ convenient speed ; ” and here the duke banishes his niece, with time to “ provide”’ her- self “‘ within these ten days.’’ LIKE [Acr I, | Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What’s that to me? my father was no traitor : Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous. Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay’d her for your sake, Else had she with her father rang’d along. Cel. 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 togethers And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable. Duke F. 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 ; Cel. she is banish’d. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege : IT cannot live out of her company. Duke F. You are a fool.—You, niece, provide yourself: _ If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt Duce Frepericx and Lords. Cel. Oh, my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou o? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more griev’d than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ; Pr’ythee, be cheerful: know’st thou not, the duke Hath banish’d me, his daughter ? Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee® that thou and I am one: Shall we be sunder’d ? shall we part, sweet girl? No: let my father seek another heir. (64) Remorse. Used for pity, compunction. (65) I avas too young that time, fe. See Note 19, Acti. (66) Still we went coupled and inseparable. Shakespeare has him- self paralleled this lovely picture of girl-friends in his ‘‘ Mid- summer Night’s Dream,” iii. 2; and it is worth comparing the two beautiful passages together, for the sake of observing how perfectly he has preserved the distinctive characterisation ineach. Helena’s “We, Hermia,”’ &c., is pretty, affectionate, artless ; the images are tasteful—the “‘ double cherry,” the “two lovely berries moulded on one stem” is a dainty figure; but Celia’s words have a sin- plicity, a dignity, a certain stateliness of charm—no less ue graceful an image than ‘“‘Juno’s swans” employed—that precisely befits the princess and the lady. (67) No? hath not ? It has been asserted that this should be printed “No hath not?” as being an idiomatic expression similar to Hubert’s “No had, mylord ?’’ (“ King John,” iv.2). But it seems to us that here “No? hath not?” is a mere usual colloquial form of answering by repeating the words of the previous speaker as a question. (68) Which teacheth thee, &c. Warburton suggested that “‘thee”’ here should be changed to ‘me;’ and the “am”’ in the line makes us think the suggestion plausible. Nevertheless, the blending of Scenr I.] Therefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us: And do not seek to take your change® upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out ; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, Pll go along with thee. Ros. Why, whither shall we go? Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Ros. Alas! what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Cel. Vl put myself in poor and mean attire, And with a kind of umber” smirch my face ; The like do you: so shall we pass along, And never stir assailants. Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe” upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will) AS -¥OU LIKE IT. 427 We'll have a swashing” and a martial outside ; As many other mannish cowards have, That do outface it with their semblances. Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man ? Ros. Wll have no worse a name than Jove’s own age ; And therefore look you call me Ganymede.” But what will you be eall’d? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; No longer Celia, but Aliena. Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay’d to steal The clownish fool out of your father’s court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? Cel. He'll go along o’er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away, And get our jewels and our wealth together ; Devise the fittest time and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. Now go we in content’ To liberty, and not to banishment. [ Hweunt. ASG VT. SCENE I.—The forest of Arden. Enter Duxr Senior, Amtens, and other Lords, in the dress of foresters. Duke 8S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pmp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty! of Adam, The seasons’ difference; as, the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, persons in the construction of a sentence is in Shakespeare’s manner, when he wishes to convey a speaker’s complicated feeling ; and here Celia tells her cousin that she lacks the love which should teach her caine ; as it teaches herself, Celia) that the two friends are (or ““am”) one. (69) Your change. It has been proposed to alter “‘ change’’ to ‘charge ;’ but “ change’’ here means ‘change of fortune,’ ‘ reverse,’ ‘vicissitude.’ (70) Umber. A reddish or yellowish brown earth; deriving its name from Umbria, in Italy. It is used as a painting colour by artists; and it was also used in staining faces of a dark shade for the stage, in Shakespeare’s time. (71) Curtle-ave. A short, crooked sword. The name is one of many, derived from the French coutelas; as courtlas, courtlax, curtlax, cutlass. (72) Swashing. Swaggering, dashing. To “swash’’ was applied to making a clashing noise with arms upon the target or buckler ; and thence came to mean noisy, blustering, swaggering. (73) Ganymede. The names assumed by the disguised heroines in Lodge’s story are those given by Shakespeare to his Rosalind and Celia when they wander forth; one of his usual instances of good taste and judgment in adopting the most available points from the sources whence he derived his plots. (74) Now go we in content. ‘Vhe first Folio misprints ‘Now goe in we content. The second Folio makes the corrected trans- position. (1) Here feel we but the penalty, fc. The Folio gives ‘ not’ instead of “but;’’ Theobald’s correction. There are few typographical This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. 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. Ami. I would not change it.2 Happy is your erace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke 8S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ?* errors more frequently occurring in old books than the substitution of “not ” for ‘but,’ and “‘ but ” for ‘not.’ Several excellent editors retain the word of the Folio in this passage, interpreting it with much ingenuity ; but we cannot feel that the context will bear the reading they give. The speech seems to us to lose consecution if ‘not’ be retained ; whereas “ but the penalty of Adam’’ (taking this “penalty”? to mean “the seasons’ difference’’) accords with that which follows, and also with other passages in the play where the sharp yet salutary effects of open-air life are adverted to. (2) A precious jewel. By this, besides the bright eye which dis- tinguishes the otherwise ill-favoured reptile, it is probable that Shakespeare alluded to the ancient belief regarding the toad; which was said to have in its head a stone, having the power of repulsing poisons, and, if worn in a ring, of “forewarning against venom.” This was called a “toad-stone,” and was held to be “most commonly found in the heads of old and great and he toads.” While giving this information, the commentators preclude the idea of the poet’s having any other “jewel’’ than the toad-stone in his mind; but we cannot help feeling that the notedly brilliant eye of the toad was included in Shakespeare’s reference to the one precious point possessed by the repulsive-looking creature. (3) I would not change it. Upton and others think that these words should form the conclusion of the duke’s speech. But they are the reply which Amiens makes, assuring his lord and kinsman that he feels the praises just pronounced upon their forest life to be true, that he has no wish to change it, or to leave him; and then goes on to say how happy is the duke in a nature that can convert reverses into sources of delight. (4) Shall we go and kill us venison? Here, the ce us”’ is used in 428 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Acr IL. And yet it irks me,® the poor dappled fools,° | Almost to bursting; and the big round tears® Being native burghers of this desert city, Cours’d one another down his innocent nose Should, in their own confines, with forkéd heads,’ | In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool, Have their round haunches gor’d. | Much markéd of the melancholy Jaques, First Lord. Indeed, my lord, | Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; Augmenting it with tears. NI pe A Y QCA A a's \ SK ) First Lord. “ Ay,” quoth Jaques, “« Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; "Tis just the fashion.” Act IT. Scene I. And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Duke 8. But what said Jaques ? Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you. Did he not moralise this spectacle ? To-day my lord of Amiens and myself First Lord. Oh, yes, into a thousand similes. Did steal behind him, as he lay along First, for his weeping into the needless stream ;° Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out ** Poor deer,” quoth he, “thou mak’st a testament Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To the which place a poor sequester’d stag, To that which had too much:” then, being there That from the hunters’ aim had ta’en a hurt, alone, Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord, Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends ; The wretched animal heay’d forth such groans, “Tis right,” quoth he; “thus misery doth part That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat The flux" of company :” anon, a careless herd, the same idiomatic form of construction that “me” is elsewhere (9) The needless stream. Used for ‘the unneeding stream;’ the used by Shakespeare. See Note 33, Act ii., “ Merchant of Venice.” stream that needed not additional water. A (5) Itirks me. ‘It frets me;’ ‘it is irksome to me.’ (10) Friends. Printed in the Folio ‘friend;’ which some editors (6) Poor dappled fools. Instance of Shakespeare’s using the term retain, observing that ‘the singular is often used for the plural “poor fool” as a term of compassion and kindliness, rather than with a sense more abstracted, and therefore in many instances of contempt. See Note 31, Act iv., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” more poetical.’ But we cannot feel this to be one of these in- (7) Forkéd heads. The hunters’ barbed darts or arrows. stances; and it is probable that the ‘s’ was left out by the (8) The big round tears. It was an ancient belief that the deer Folio printer, as, in the previous line, “much” is misprinted wept when put to death by the hunters; and that his “tears”’ * must.’ were ‘ precious in medicine.’ (11) Flue. Flow; confluence; concourse. EEE eee LEZ LFF, SL LLP IZA, SF ee gy id Sg WY a Ss 7. fy 4 “7 . We \ SUL OES SN iG yw . . SS > WW SI NWO GLL ich Celia. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no farther. Touchstone. For my part, 1 had rather bear with you than bear you. Act II. Scene IV. TOA 7S Scene IIT.] AS YOU Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him; “ Ay,” quoth Jaques, “Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; ” *Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ?” Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life: swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,” To fright the animals, and to kill them up,'* In their assign’d and native dwelling-place. Duke 8S. And did you leave him in this contem- plation ? Sec. Lord.” menting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke 8. Show me the place: I love to cope! him in these sullen fits, For then he’s full of matter. First Lord. Tl bring you to him straight. [ Exeunt. We did, my lord, weeping and com- SCENE II.—A room in the palace. Enter Duxe Frepericr, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them ? It cannot be: some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her.}8 The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early, They found the bed untreasur’d of their mistress. Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish! clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, the princess’ gentlewoman, Confesses that she secretly o’erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company. _ (12) Citizens. Used here as “burghers’’ is a few speeches pre- viously, for the deer as denizens (or free dwellers) of the forest. on (13) What's worse. Used elliptically for ‘ whatever is worse than ese. (14) To kill them up. Shakespeare sometimes adds the word “up” to verbs, to express thoroughly, entirely, completely. For instance, in the sentence commented on in Note 164, Act v., “ Love's Labour’s Lost,” “To flatter up’’ means to flatter to excess, to soothe or pamper. This use of “up” still exists in such phrases as ‘cover it up, ‘eatitup, ‘drink it up,’ ‘shut it up,’ ‘dress it up,’ “cut it up,’ &c.; where “up” is almost a redundancy, and yet serves to give the effect of thoroughness to the act indicated by the verb. Here, “to kill them up,’’ means ‘to kill them all utterly,’ to exterminate them; and also serves to imply ‘hunt them up,’ ‘drive them to extremity.’ (15) Sec. Lord. This is misprinted in the Folio 2 Lord, as a prefix to the speech ; therefore we leave it in the text. Otherwise, what the first lord says of “my lord of Amiens and myself”? watching Jaques, seems to show that only two gentlemen were with him then; so that it should seem as if “ We did, my lord,” &c., rightly belongs either to Amiens or to First Lord. The concluding words of the scene, “I'll bring you,” &c., are in the Folio given to First Bees though in some editions they are erroneously assigned to ord. (16) Cope. Used here for encounter, engage with, meet in inter- change of talk with. There is a modern familiar word that’answers LIKE IT. 43) Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant” hither: If he be absent, bring his brother to me ; Pll make him find him: do this suddenly ; And let not search and inquisition quail*! To bring again these foolish runaways. [ Exeunt. SCENE III.—Before Oxtver’s house. Enter Ortanno and Anam, meeting. Orl. Who’s there? Adam. What! my young master ?—Oh, my gentle master ! Oh, my sweet master! Oh, you memory” Of old Sir Roland! 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*‘ to overcome The bony priser 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 ? No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it! Orl. Why, what’s the matter ? Adam. Oh, unhappy youth, Come not within these doors! within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives : Your brother (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: I overheard him and his practices.” This is no place ;*7 this house is but a butchery: Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? e the verb “cope” here; “I love to ‘tackle’ him in these sullen ts.” (17) Consent and sufferance. ‘‘Consent’’ is here used for ‘ con- spired agreement.’ See Note 109, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” ““Sufferance’’? here means toleration, permission, non-hindrance, unprevention. i (18) See her. Instance of Shakespeare’s using a pronoun in the singular, when referring to an antecedent in the plural. The duke speaks of “ them,” inquiring after both ladies ; the courtier replies, mentioning Celia only. (19) Roynish. Scurvy; French, rogneua. (20) Fetch that gallant. Meaning Orlando. The present passage affords an instance of Shakespeare’s characteristic way of making a person in agitated speaking use an expression which refers to a not immediately previously named antecedent. (21) Quail. Used for languish, relax, slacken. 7% (22) Memory. Shakespeare, and other writers of his time, some- times used “memory ” for ‘memorial.’ (23) What make you here? ‘What do you do here?’ (24) Fond. Foolish, injudicious. (25) Bony priser of the humorous duke. “Bony” (Warburton’s correction) is misprinted ‘bonnie’ in the Folio. ‘ Priser”’ is tanta- mount to our modern term, ‘ prize-fighter.’ “Humorous” here means ‘ill-humoured,’ ‘ morose,’ ‘ captious,’ ‘ wayward.’ (26) Practices. Treacherous schemes or devices. (27) This is no place. ‘“ Place’’ here has been explained to mean 432 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What! wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 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; I rather will subjéct me to the malice Of a diverted blood*® and bloody brother. 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 doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort tomy 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 ; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious® liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; Pll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. Orl. Oh, good old man! how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service swet*! for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion ; And having that, do choke® their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee. But, poor old man! thou prun’st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield Tn lieu of* all thy pains and husbandry. But come thy ways; we’ll go along together ; And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, We'll light upon some settled low content. Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.— from seventeen years* till now almost fourscore Here livéd I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; But at fourscore it is too late a week :3 Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well, and not my master’s debtor. [| Exeunt. a mansion, a residence, a country-seat ; in which sense the term is stillused. But we take the passage to be no more than a broken exclamation of the old man’s,—‘ this is no place for you,’ ‘this is not a fit place for you to come to.’ The whole tenor of his speech confirms this. (28) A diverted blood. ‘A perverted affection of kindred,’ ‘a relationship turned from its natural course.’ (29) And unregarded age in corners thrown. This line gives an instance of Shakespeare’s elliptical style. Here the “should” of the previous line and the word ‘be’ are understood between “age”? and “in.” It has in this passage an excellent effect, since it serves to generalise the remark, as if the words were, “And un- regarded age ‘is’ in corners thrown.” (30) Rebellious. One of Shakespeare’s aptly chosen epithets; conveying, as it does here, the impression of liquors opposed to health, and liquors exciting to evil propensities. (31) Swet. An old form of ‘sweated. See Note 38, Act iii., “Merchant of Venice.”’ AS: YOGr LiKhaity [Acr IT. SCENE IV.—The forest of Arden. Enter Rosauinp, drest like a youth; Cruta, like a shepherdess ; and Toucnsrone. Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits !%6 Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s apparel, and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I> pray you, bear with me; I can go no farther.*? Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you: yet I should bear no cross,"* if Idid bear you; for I think you have no money in your purse. ios. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but travellers must be content. fos. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.—Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk. Enter Corin and Sirvivs. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. Oh, Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her ! Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov’d ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not GUESS 5 Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover As ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow : But if thy love were ever like to mine (As sure I think did never man love so), How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Sid. Oh, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily ! If thou remember’st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not lov’d: Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearying® thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise, Thou hast not lov’d: Or if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not lov’d.—Oh, Phebe, Phebe, Phebe : [ Ewit. (32) Having that, do choke, &c. ‘Having acquired promotion, cancel the service they have done, by means of the very gain it procured them.’ (33) In lieu of. ‘In requital of.’ See Note 40, Act iv., “Merchant of Venice.” (34) From seventeen years. seanentie yeeres,’ shows to be right. (35) A week. Anciently used for an indefinite period of time. (36) How weary are my spirits! The Folio misprints ‘merry’ for “weary ;”’ Theobald’s correction. (37) I can go no farther. The first Folio gives ‘I cannot go ag farther;’ but the second Folio omits the superfluous no Misprinted in the Folio, ‘From Rowe made the correction, which the context (38) Cross. A coin, bearing the mark of a cross upon it. See Note 44, Act i., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” _(39) Wearying. The reading of the second Folio. The first Folio prints ‘ wearing.’ TOUCHSTONE. AND CELIA, ROSALIND, Touchstone. Holla, you clown! he’s not thy kinsman, Rosalind. Peace, fool: “As You Like It,” Act I/., Scene IV. Scenz V.] Ros. Alas! poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own. Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet,*° and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked: and I remember the wooing of a peascod*! instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, ‘‘ Wear these for my sake.” We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.® Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ’ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne’er be ’ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. . Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion Is much upon my fashion. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond’ man, If he for gold will give us any food: I faint almost to death. Touch. Holla, you clown! Ros. Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman. Oor. Who calls? Touch. Your betters, sir. Oor. Else are they very wretched. Ros. Peace, I say.— Good even to you, friend. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. tos. I pr’ythee, gentle shepherd, if that love or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed : Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d, And faints for succour. Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, My fortunes were more able to relieve her ; But I am shepherd to another man, And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: My master is of churlish disposition, And little recks* to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality : Besides, his cote,* his flocks, and bounds of feed, Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, (40) Batlet. clothes. (41) Peascod. Used here for a bunch of peas in the pod ; “cods”’ being an old name for their pods or shells. See Note 23, Act iii., Midsummer Night’s Dream.” From a passage in “Camden’s Remains,” it appears that peas pods were sometimes worn as orna- ' ments: speaking of Richard II., he says—“ He also used a peascod branch with the cods open, and the peas out, as it is upon his robe in his monument at Westminster.” And in an ancient schedule of jewels is found—* Item, two peascoddes of gold with seventeen pearles.”’ (42) From whom. That is, from the bunch of peas pods, imper- sonating Mistress Jane Smile. (43) As all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. Touchstone plays on the word “mortal;’’ using it first in the sense of ‘subject to death,’ and secondly in its sense of ‘ exces- sive, ‘abundant.’ In Miss Baker’s “ Glossary of Northamptonshire Words and Phrases,” she so explains the word; giving as example the county phrases, “I’m mortal bad,” “it’s a mortal shame,’ “there was a mortal sight o’ people, and a mortal deal o’ fun.’’ (44) Recks. Cares, heeds. We still use the word ‘reckless’ for careless, or heedless. An implement used in beating and washing coarse 55 AS YOU LIKE IT. 433 By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice** most welcome shall you be. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ? Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying anything. Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Cel. And we will mend thy wages. place, And willingly could waste my time in it. Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold: Go with me: if you like, upon report, The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder*’ be, And buy it with your gold right suddenly. I like this [| Hxeunt. SCENE V.—Another part of the forest. Enter Amiens, Jaquss, and others. Sone. Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note 48 Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Ami. Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Ithank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I pr’ythee, more. Ami. My voice is ragged:* I know I cannot please you. Jag. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanza: call you them stanzas ? Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing.” Will you sing? Ami. More at your request than to please myself. (45) Cote. An old form of cot, or cottage. It is still used (as in the next line) in its compound form of “sheep-cote,” which strictly means an enclosure for sheep; but is sometimes, as here, used for a shepherd’s cottage. ; ; ‘ (46) In my voice. ‘By my voice during my master’s absence. (47) Feeder. One who feeds sheep. Corin, just before, says— “ do not shear the fleeces that I graze ;’? and mentions “ bounds of feed”’ for ‘ pasture-lands.’ F } (48) Turn his merry note. This was an old expression; as we still familiarly say, ‘turn a tune.’ Pope altered “turn” to ‘tune ;’ but “turn his merry note unto the sweet bird’s throat’’ means, ‘sing or whistle his gay tune in unison with the bird’s singing.’ (49) Ragged. An epithet combining the sense of rough, husky, worn-out, shabby, poor; and any other disparaging epithet that a singer, making mock-modest excuses, applies to his voice. Amiens sweet-tempered bantering of the crabbed Jaques is delightful. (50) I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Jaques makes punning allusion to the Latin word nomen, which means ‘a name,’ and also a ‘debt,’ and a ‘debtor.’ Ainsworth, in the fourth edition of his Dictionary, 1761, interprets nomen facere, “to contract a debt ;’ and gives ‘ debtor’ as the seventh meaning of the word nomen. 434, Jaq. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank you: but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes;*! and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. Ami. Well, I'll end the song.—Sirs, cover the while ;°? the duke will drink under this tree.—He hath been all this day to look you.* Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give Heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. Sona. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i’ the sun,5 Seeking the food he eats, And pleas’d with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. : [All together here. Jaq. Tl give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.* Ami. And I'll sing it. Jaq. Thus it goes :— If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame : 57 Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Ami. What’s that “ducdame? ” Jaq. °Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, Pll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Ami. And T’ll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. [Hxeunt severally. SCENE VI.—Another part of the forest. inter Onuanvo and Apam. Adam. Dear master, I can go no farther: oh, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. ,(51) Dog-apes. “Dog’’ is sometimes prefixed to the name of an eumel. to indicate its being of the male species 3 as dog-fox, dog- otter. (52) Cover the while. ‘Prepare the table meanwhile ;’ ‘spread the meal while I sing.’ ceae?3) To look you. See Note 11, Act iv., Merry Wives.” (54) Disputable. Used here for ‘disputations;’ ‘fond of dis- puting.’ Shakespeare sometimes uses words ending in “ble’’ in this way—as the passive form used in an active sense, and the active form used passively—according to the usage of writers of his time. ceq20),, Loves to live 7 the sun. It was once proposed to change «.live” to ‘lie;’ but “live i’ the sun” accords with the next line, . Seeking the food he eats;’’ and be it observed that the sentiment in this verse of the song tends to support our view of the reading discussed in Note 1 of the present Act. The “ penalty of Adam” means “the seasons’ difference:” for we find here that the exiled gentleman-foresters have to “seek their food” by sunny exertion, by hunting; and that they need fear “no enemy but winter and rough weather.” (56) In despite of my invention. Here used for ‘in spite of my tardy invention ;’ or ‘in a struggle with my invention:’ in the same whimsically expressed way that Iago says— My invention “To look for you, AS YOU LIKE IT. [Acr II. Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thy- self a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers.” For my sake be comfortable ; hold death awhile at the arm’s end: I will be here with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said !*! thou lookest cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly.—Yet thou liest in the bleak air; come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam ! [ Exeunt. SCENE VI.—Another part of the forest (the same as am Scene V.). A table set out. Enter Duxn Senior, AMIENS, Lords, and others. Duke 8. I think he be transform’d into a beast ; For I can no where find him like a man. First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence: Here he was merry, hearing of a song. Duke S. Tf he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.® Go, seek him; tell him I would speak with him. First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. Enter Jaques. Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company ! What, you look merrily ! Jaq. A fool, a fool !—I met a fool i’ the forest, A motley fool ;—a miserable world !| — As I do live by food, I met a fool; Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun, And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms,—and yet a motley fool. “Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. - “No, sir,” quoth he, comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize—it plucks out brains and all” (“ Othello,” ii. 1). (57) Ducdame. We imagine that, as a fling at the burthen to Amiens’ song, “ Come hither,”’ Jaques makes this facetious trans- position of the Latin words, duc ad me, ‘lead to me;’ and farther mystifies the young nobleman by calling it a “ Greek invocation.” suggestion was once made that possibly “ Ducdame” is amisprint for huc ad me, ‘hither to me.’ “ Ducdame” must be read as a tri- syllable, with the accent laid on the second syllable. (58) The first-born of Egypt. This is said by Johnson to be a pro- verbial expression for high-born persons. (59) Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. ‘It is more that phon believes thou art going to die, than that thy powers are fail- ing thee.’ (60) Comfortable. Used here for ‘be susceptible of comfort,’ “be capable of receiving comfort.’ See Note 54, Act ii. (61) Well said! Formerly sometimes used as we now use the words ‘well done!’ as a term of encouragement. . (62) Compact of jars. ‘Compounded, composed, or made up of ae elements.’ See Note 3, Act v., “ Midsummer Night’s ream. (63) Discord in the spheres. Allusion to the creed of the harmony of the spheres. See Note 11, Act v., “ Merchant of Venice.” (64) A miserable world! This we take to be a parenthetical TS eS Scene VII.] AS YOU * Call me not fool till Heaven hath sent me for- tune ;: And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock: Thus we may see,” quoth he, “ how the world wags : *Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ; And after one hour more ’twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep contemplative ; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial.—Oh, noble fool ! A worthy fool !—Motley’s the only wear.*7 Duke S. What fool is this ? Jaq. Oh, worthy fool!—One that hath been a courtier ; And says, if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,— Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage,—he hath strange places cramm’d With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms.—Oh, that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat. Duke 8. Thou shalt have one. Jaq. It is my only suit ;® Provided, that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion that grows rank in them, That Iam wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please: for so fools have: And they that are most galléd with my folly, They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The why is plain as way to parish church : He that a fool doth very wisely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob :® if not, The wise man’s folly is anatomis’d,” Even by the squand’ring glances”! of the fool. Invest me in my motley; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th’ infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. exclamation; whereby Jaques for the moment laughs at his own melancholy view of the world, having just heard it echoed by a pro- fessional jester. Moreover, he seems to exclaim, ‘This a miserable world! No, it contains a fool and food for laughter.’ (65) Call me not fool till Heaven hath sent me fortune. In allusion to the Latin proverb, Fortuna favet fatwis, ‘ Fortune favours fools.’ (66) Poke. Pouch; pocket. (67) Motley’s the only wear, Alluding to the parti-coloured gar- ment worn by the professional fool-jester. (68) It is my only suit, A play on the word “suit” in its sense of ‘dress,’ ‘suit of clothes ;’ and in its sense of ‘ petition,’ ‘pleaded request.’ (69) Not to seem senseless of the bob. The words “ Not to”? were omitted in the Folio, and supplied by Theobald; both metre and meaning showing them to be needed. “Bob’’ is used for ‘smart hit,’ ‘ fling,’ ‘ scoff,’ ‘sarcasm.’ _ (70) Anatomis’d. Intellectually dissected ; laid bare; exposed to view. (71) Squand’ring glances. Variously-directed shots of wit. To “squander”? was sometimes used for to ‘scatter.’ See Note 58, Acti., “ Merchant of Venice.” To “glance,” in archery, meant to shoot obliquely. : (72) A counter. Counters were coins made for counting up, and LIKE IT. 435 Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. Jaq. What, for a counter,” would I do, but good ? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin : For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting” itself; And all the embosséd sores and headed evils, That thou with license of free foot hast caught, Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, That can therein tax’ any private party ? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the weary very means® do ebb ? What woman in the city do I name, When that I say, the city-woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? Who can come in, and say that I mean her, When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ? Or what is he of basest function, That says his bravery” is not on my cost (Thinking that I mean him), but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech ? There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong’d him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong’d himself; if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies, Unclaim’d of any man.— But who comes here? Enter Ortanno, with his sword drawn. Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv’d. Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of ?7 Duke S. Art thou thus bolden’d, man, by thy distress, Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem’st so empty? Orl. You touch’d my vein at first: the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred, And know some nurture.” But forbear, I say: He dies that touches any of this fruit Till I and my affairs are answeréd. reckoning sums; the use of which had been recently brought into England, about the time when this play was believed to have been written. (73) Brutish sting. Animal appetite. , 4 (74) Tax. Satirise, accuse, impugn. “Taxing,”’ farther on in this same speech, is used in a similar sense. See Note 33, Acti. (75) The weary very means. This has been variously altered ; but no offered substitution is satisfactory. The passage as it stands seems to us to mean, ‘Till that the very means, becoming weary (worn out, exhausted), do ebb.’ ? (76) Bravery. Finery, expensive clothes. See Note 37, Act i., “ Measure for Measure.’ (77) Of what kind should this cock come of? Pleonasms, such as the present superfluous repetition of the word “of’’ in this sentence, occur not only in Shakespeare’s writings, but in other authors of his time. “Kind” is here used for ‘ native stock,’ ‘breed.’ (78) Inland bred, and know some nurture. “Inland,” and ‘upland’ or ‘outland,’ were formerly used to express the same meaning for which we now use the words ‘urbane’ and ‘rustic;’ the one bear- ing the sense of ‘polished in breeding,’ the other ‘rough and un- cultivated.’ ‘Nurture’ meant ‘ education,’ ‘ training,’ ‘ breeding,’ ‘cultivation,’ ‘ refinement.’ 436 AS Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason,” I must die. Duke S. What would you have? Your gentle- ness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. I almost die for food; and let me have it. Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray ou: I rao tt 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, If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, If ever sat at any good man’s feast, If ever from your eyelids wip’d a tear, And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied,— Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. Duke S. 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. Orl. 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 8. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. Orl. I thank ye; and be bless’d for your good comfort ! [ Heit. Duke 8S. Thou seest we are not all alone un- happy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. Jaq. All the world’s a stage, (79) An you will not be answered with reason. Here Jaques plays on the wanda “answered” and “reason.’’ Orlando uses “ answered ” in the sense of ‘attended to,’ while Jaques replies*with it in the sense of ‘responded to in argument;’ and then he brings in “yeason”’ (for ‘raisin’) in consonance with Orlando’s “this fruit.’’ A pun upon “reason” and ‘raisin’ seemed to be a favourite with Shakespeare. See Note 34, Act v., “ Much Ado.” (80) All things had been savage here. In this passage, “savage’’ is used in its sense of ‘wild, ‘uncultivated;’ and not in that of ‘cruel,’ ‘ferocious.’ So, in the previous scene, where Orlando says, “Tf this uncouth forest yield anything savage,’ he means ‘ wild,’ “untame ;’ something that will serve for food, such as deer or game of any kind. (81) Upon command. ‘ At your own disposal ;’ ‘according to your own pleasure.’ (82) Two weak evils. Used for ‘two evils causing weakness.’ (83) Wherein we play in. Another instance of the pleonasm or redundancy of expression thenin use. See Note 77, Actii. (84) Sighing like furnace. Any one calling to mind the portentous gasps of a blast furnace, will feel the comic exaggeration of this simile. (85) Pard. An abbreviation of ‘leopard.’ See Note 61, Act ii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” YOU. TIKES [Act IL. And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace,®* with a woful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,® Jealous in honour, sudden* and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,§7 Full of wise saws and modern® instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,®® With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans® everything, Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. Duhe 8. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed. Orl. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need :— I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. Duke 8S. Welcome ; fall to: I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes.— Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. Sona. Ami. 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. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly. (86) Sudden. Sometimes used by Shakespeare for ‘violent,’ ‘passionate,’ ‘rash,’ ‘hasty.’ : ; (87) Beard of formal cut. Beards, in Shakespeare’s time, were cut in different fashions for men of different professions. The soldier had his style, the justice had his, the young gallant had his: and we find from various passages in our poet’s works, that there was much characteristic distinctiveness in the way in which beards were trimmed and worn. (88) Modern. Here and elsewhere used by Shakespeare for “common,’ ‘ trite,’ ‘ hackneyed,’ ‘ conventional.’ (89) Pantaloon. » A comic character of the Italian stage (of Venetian origin, and taken typically of Venice, as Arlechino is of Bergamo, Policinello of Naples, Stenterello of Florence, &c.) ; wearing slippers, spectacles, and pouch, and invariably represented as old, lean, and gullible. We have him on the English stage, to this day, in the Christmas pantomimes. : 5 (90) Sans. The French word for ‘without; ’ sometimes used in colloquial English of Shakespeare’s time. See Note 51, Act iv., “Comedy of Errors.’ ‘ (91) Unkind. Besides its usual meaning of ‘cruel,’ ‘unfeeling,’ 7 pakied ”* here bears the sense of ‘unnatural,’ ‘ contrary to native quality.’ ; (92) Because thou art not seen. This line has been suspected to ~\ Orlando, I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need :— I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. Act II. Scene VII. Scenz IT.] Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp,” Thy sting is not so sharp i As friend remember’d not.%4 Aleigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! &e. Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Roland’s son, As you have whisper’d faithfully you were, AS YOU LIKE IT. 439 And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn’d and living in your face,— Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke, That lov’d your father: the residue of your for- tune, Go to my cave and tell me.—Good old man, Thou art right welcome as thy master is.— Support him by the arm.—Give me your hand, aaa SCENE I.—A room wn the palace. Enter Duxe Freperict, Ontver, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. Not see him since? cannot be : But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument! Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: Find out thy brother, wheresoe’er he is; Seek him with candle ;? bring him dead or living Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit® thee by thy brother’s mouth Of what we think against thee. Oli. Oh, that your highness knew my heart in this ! I never lov’d my brother in my life. Duke F. More villain thou.—Well, push him out of doors ; And let my officers of such a nature Sir, sir, that be incorrect ; but we take the passage to mean— Thy tooth is not so keen (as the pain of a friend’s ingratitude), because thou art not seen (to be an unnatural injustice and cruelty, as his conduct is).’ (93) Though thou the waters warp. Shakespeare elsewhere uses “warp ” to express ‘shrink,’ ‘contract,’ ‘alter,’ ‘change,’ ‘pervert,’ ‘distort ;’ and in these mingled senses he seems to employ the word here. Mr. Holt White pointed out that there was an ancient Saxon adage, ‘Winter shall warp water ;’ and he also cites a Scottish version of an English ballad, where the line, ‘ Nor shrink before the wintry wind,’ is altered to ‘Nor shrink before the warp- ing wind.’ The visible effect of frost upon water is to change and distort its surface; sometimes even bending and warping it into a concave form, very apparent in small ponds. Although this is caused by expansion, it looks like contraction; and poets deal with visible effects. (94) As friend remember’d not. ‘Remembered’’ is here used for ‘remembering.’ and turn him going. [Hzeunt. SCENE II.—The forest of Arden. Enter ORLANDdo, with a paper. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: And thou, thrice-crownéd queen of night,® survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress’ name,’ that my full life doth sway.® O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts [ll character ; That every eye, which in this forest looks, Shall see thy virtue witness’d everywhere. Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive!’ she. [Hait. Enter Corin and Toucustone. Cor. And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone ? Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is against him in the language which would be used by the Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer; an eztendi facias applying to house and lands, as a fieri facias would apply to goods and chattels, or a capias ad satisfaciendum to the person.” And Blackstone explains the terms thus :—‘ An extent, or eatendi facias, is so called, because the sheriff is to cause the lands, &c., to be appraised to their full extended value before he delivers them to the plaintiff.” (5) Expediently. Used for ‘expeditiously.’ Shakespeare else- where uses “ expedient’ for ‘ expeditious.’ - (6) Thrice-crownéd queen of night. Orlando addresses the moon by this title, in allusion to her names of Luna, Diana, and Hecate. See Note 43, Act v., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” } (7) Thy huntress’ name. Orlando calls his mistress one of Diana’s huntresses, as being a votaress of her order; a maiden lady, a virgin princess. Just as Hero is styled the “ virgin knight” of the “ goddess of the night.’? See Note 64, Act v., “ Much Ado.” (8) My full life doth sway. “Full” is here used for ‘whole,’ ‘entire,’ ‘complete.’ It is observable that Shakespeare repeats this phrase, “ my life doth sway,” or “doth sway my life,” in an- other passage, where an amorous extravagance of expression is in question. In the present speech, Orlando uses just such strained words and phrases as accord thoroughly with the fanciful style of his rhymed diction, and the fantastic fashion of his action here ; both of which are in the vein of an Arcadian swain. It is as if Shakespeare wished to show even this manly young hero capable of a freak when under the influence of that passion which makes “all nature in love mortal in folly.’’ Orlando, as a “‘true lover,’ was bound, as it were, to “run into strange capers,” at least once in the course of the play. ae (9) Character. Write; inscribe in characters. (10) Uneapressive. For ‘inexpressible;’ ‘not to be expressed.’ SSS Re ER 440 a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught." In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty Rosalind. Peace! Here comes my sister, in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ? Cor. No more but that I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends ; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding,” or comes of a very dull kindred. Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd ? (11) Naught. Not anything; worth nothing; worthless, bad. (12) May complain of good breeding. ‘Want of, or ‘deficient,’ is understood between “of” and “ Goon breeding.” This is an ellip- tical form of expression used by other writers besides Shakespeare. ___ 13) Natural philosopher. Touchstone quibbles on the word natural’ in its sense of ‘fool’ or ‘idiot,’ and in its sense of “taught by nature and nature’s productions.’ AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. Cor. No, truly. Touch. Then thou art condemn’d, Cor. Nay, I hope,— Touch. Truly, thou art condemn’d; like an ill- roasted egg, all on one side. Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. Louch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou oes i Te ce WSS SS ell reading: stand aside. Act III. Scene II. never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest good manners,'‘ then thy manners must be wicked ; and wickedness is sin, and sin is condemnation. Thou art in a parlous state,!® shepherd. Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands: that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. Cor, Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells,’® you know, are greasy. (14) Manners. The court jester here uses this word in its double sense of ‘demeanour’ and ‘morals:’ in the same way that the French use their word meurs, which means both ‘manners’ and ‘morals.’ z See Note 2, Act iii., (15) Parlous. A corruption of ‘ perilous,’ “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (16) Fells. Skins or hides. The difference between the woolly a Scene IT.] Touch. Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? and is not the greese of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance,!” come. Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet. - Touch. Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed !—Learn of the wise, and perpend:' civet is of a baser birth than tar,—the very uncleanly flux of a cat. the instance, shepherd. Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me: Vl rest. Touch. Wilt thou rest condemn’d? Heaven help thee, shallow man! Heaven make incision in thee !° thou art raw. Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness; glad of other men’s good, content with my harm ;*! and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. Touch. That is another simple sin in you; I cannot see how thou shouldst scape. Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’ brother. Enter Rosaurnp, reading a paper. Ros. From the east to western Ind, ~ Read No jewel is like Rosalind. ; [ aas | Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest lin’d™ Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind.* Touch. Vill rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-women’s rank to market. Ros. Out, fool! exterior and the inner skin, fleece and fell, is manifest in this passage from Ben Jonson’s “ Discoveries:’’—‘A prince is the pastor of the people. He ought to shear, not to flea his sheep ; to take their fleeces, not their fells.’ : (17) A more sounder instance. Example of double comparative. (18) Perpend. Reflect ; consider; think it over. See Note 14, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” (19) Heaven make incision in thee! That is, ‘May Heaven cut or lance thee, so as to cure thee by letting some of thy simpletonism out with thy blood!’ There are phrases of similar allusion in Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays; and Shakespeare himself, else- where, uses the expression for curing by blood-letting. See Note 80, Act 1v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (20) Thou art raw. “ Raw” is here punningly used in the sense of ‘sore,’ and in the sense of ‘ ignorant,’ ‘inexperienced,’ ‘immature,’ * green.’ (21) Content with my harm. penury.’ (22) Fairest lin’d. Most fairly delineated. (23) The fair of Rosalind. The beauty of Rosalind. “Fair” was often used substantively for ‘fairness.’ See Note 27, Act i., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (24) It is the right butter-women’s rank to market. Touchstone compares the jog-trot pace of the verses, one after the other, to the rate of going in single file of the butter-women on horseback to market, by the word “ rank;” just as he formerly used that ex- pression, when he spoke of his own rate of striking in with, and pouring out his professional jokes. See Note 36, Acti. (25) If the cat will after kind. ‘Ifthe cat will act according to its nature.’ The phrase seems to have been proverbial; for in Florio’s ‘Content with my adversity or 56 Mend ~ AS YOU LIKE IT. 44] Touch. For a taste: If a hart do lack a hind, Let him seek out Rosalind. If the cat will after kind,» So be sure will Rosalind. Winter garments must be lin’d, So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind; Then to cart with Rosalind. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind. He that sweetest rose will find, Must find love’s thorn and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses :*° why do you infect yourself with them ? Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. Ros. Tl graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit?’ i the country; for you’ll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter Ceta, reading a paper. Ros. Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. Cel. Why should this a desert be P*8 Road For it is unpeopled?” No; L ea 8. ] Tongues I’ll hang on every tree, That shall civil*’ sayings show: Some, how brief the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage,*! That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; Some, of violated vows ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence’ end, Will I Rosalinda write ; Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite *” Heaven would in little* show. Therefore Heaven Nature charg’d That one body should be fill’d With all graces wide-enlarg’d ; Nature presently distill’d Helen’s cheek, but not her heart ; Cleopatra’s majesty ; Atalanta’s better part ; *4 Sad Lucretia’s modesty. “ Second Frutes’’ we find, “ What is hatcht by a hen, will scrape like a hen; and cat after kinde will either hunt or scratch.’’ (26) The very false gallop of verses. A farther allusion to the “butter-women’s rank to market.” (27) Then it will be the earliest fruit. ‘Then the medlar, which is now one of the latest fruits, will become the earliest, being soonest decayed.’ (28) Why should this a desert be? The Folio omits “a,” which Rowe supplied. (29) For it is unpeopled. ‘‘ For” is here used for ‘ because.’ (30) Civil. Here employed in its combined senses of ‘civilised,’ ‘ polished,’ ‘ refined’ (in opposition to ‘wild’ and ‘ uncultivated,’ as implied in the word “desert’’ in the first line) ; and ‘grave,’ ‘serious,’ ‘reflective.’ See Note 38, Act ii., “ Much Ado.”’ (31) How brief the life of man runs his erring pilgrimage, that the, &c. This sentence is full of the peculiarities of Shakespeare’s style. It is elliptically condensed; and it contains a word including combined senses. “ Brief” is used for ‘briefly’ (as adjectives were sometimes employed adverbially); “his” is used for ‘its;’? and “erring’’ is used to express ‘wandering,’ and ‘full of errors.’ (32) Sprite. Spirit, native quality, original characteristic. (33) In little. In miniature, in abstract; epitomised. (34) Atalanta’s better part. Atalanta, daughter to the king of Scyros, famed for her beauty, attracted many lovers; but, reserved as beautiful, she would accept none of them. To her beauty and reticence she joined great swiftness of foot; and therefore appointed that any suitor who proposed for her hand, should run a race with her, on the understanding that if he lost the race, he also lost his suit and his life. Her skill in running always obtained her the victory, until Hippomenes presented himself ; when he, provided by Thus Rosalind of many parts By heavenly synod* was devis’d; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, To have the touches** dearest priz’d. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave. Ros. Oh, most gentle Jupiter!*7 what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, “ Haye patience, good people!” Cel. How now! back, friends :—shepherd, go off a little :—go with him, sirrah. Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honour- able retreat! though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.*® [Hxveunt Corin and Toucu- STONE. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? ; fos, Oh, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. Cel. That’s no matter: the feet might bear the verses. Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees ? fos. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came ; for look here what I found on a palm-tree:“—I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Cel. 'Trow you*! who hath done’this ? Ros. Is it a man? Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour? fos. I pr’ythee, who ? Cel. Oh, lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earth- quakes, and so encounter. Ros. Nay, but who is it ? Cel. Is it possible? Venus with three golden apples, threw them in the path of his fair competitor; and she, stooping to admire and take them up, lost the race. Her allowing herself to be thus beguiled, and her subse- quent less reserved conduct, contrast with her original beauty, reticence, and agility; and it is these latter which form the “ Atalanta’s better part”? of the text. (35) Synod. State council. See Note 3, Act i. “Comedy of Errors.”’ (36) Touches. Traits; distinctive points. (37) Oh, most gentle Jupiter! It is worthy of notice, that here Rosalind invokes “Jupiter” (the god of good spirits, who, from his name of Jove, gave origin to the aed ‘jovial’), when she is complaining of the “tedious homily ” with which Celia has “wearied’’ her hearers, as she invoked him at the commencement of Act ii., sc. 4; which makes for the adoption of “weary” in that passage. See Note 36, Act ii. (38) Scrip and scrippage. “Scrip”? here means a small sack or pouch for scraps; and “scrippage”’ is used for the contents of a scrip, as “baggage ”’ is used for the contents of a bag. (39) A palm-tree. See Note 16, Act i. (40) I was never so be-rhymed, &c. Rosalind playfully alludes to the Pythagorean doctrine of the transmigration of souls from one animal to another, and to the old superstition that rats in Ireland were rhymed to death. : (41) Trow you. 'Thisis used here in the sense of ‘Do you guess?’ Can you imagine?’ although the word originally meant to “think,’ to ‘believe.’ But Shakespeare employs it with various shades of meaning. See Note 59, Act iii., “ Much Ado about Nothing.”’ (42) Out of all whooping! ‘ Beyond the loudest exclamations of AS YOU LIKE IT. [Acr III. Ros. Nay, I pr’ythee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder- ful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping !” Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery ;“* I pr’ythee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle,—either too much at once, or none at all. I pr’ythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard ? Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. Ros. Why, Heaven will send more, if the man will be thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart, both, in an instant. fos. Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak sad brow and true maid.” Cel. I faith, coz, ’tis he. Ros. Orlando? Cel. Orlando, fos. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose ?—What did he, when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here?4® Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word. Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth‘ first: *tis a word too great for any mouth of this age’s size. To say ay and no to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism. Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man’s apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled ? amazement.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word in this sense :— * Admiration did not whoop at them,’’ “ Henry V.,’ ii. 2. A similar expression to the one in the text was formerly in use—‘out of all cry ;’ meaning, ‘ beyond all exclamation of admiring wonder.’ (43) Good my complexion! Celia, bantering Rosalind upon her “change”’ of “colour,”’ the latter makesan ejaculation, tantamount to ‘Have mercy on my complexion !’—* complexion ” here mean- ing not only ‘bloom of countenance,’ but ‘natural propensity,’ ‘constitutional tendency.’ See Note 3, Act iii., “Merchant of Venice.” The construction of the present ejaculation is similar to that of the one Rosalind makes later on :—“’Odd’s my little life!” Act iii., se. 5. (44) One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. It has been proposed to change the second “ of” here to ‘ off ;’ but we take tho passage, as it stands, to mean—‘ One inch of delay more is as tedious to wait for as a discovery made in the South Seas.’ (45) Speak sad brow and true maid. ‘Speak with a grave brow (or serious face), and as a true maid, (46) Wherein went he? What makes he here? ‘In what clothes was he dressed? What does he do here?’ _ (47) Gargantua’s mouth, “Gargantua” is the name of the giant in Rabelais’ satirical work; of which there were various popular versions known in England in Shakespeare’s time. The size of His Eminence’s “mouth” may be estimated from its being recorded that he “ swallowed five pilgrims, their staves and all, in a sallad;” and Celia thinks that the “one word” in which Rosalind desires her nine questions to be answered would be “too great for any mouth’’ inan age when men’s dimensions have degenerated from those of the giant Gargantua. Scene IT. | Cel. It is as easy to count atomies* as to resolve the propositions of a lover:*—but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. Ros. It may well be called Jove’s tree, when it drops forth such fruit. Cel. Give me audience, good madam. Ros. Proceed. Cel. There lay he, stretched wounded knight. Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes” the ground. Cel. Cry, holla!*' to thy tongue, I pr’ythee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. Ros. Oh, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.’ Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest me out of tune. Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. along, like a Cel. You bring me out.**—Soft! comes he not here ? fos. *Tis he: slink by, and note him.* [Rosatinp and Crtta retire. Enter Ontanpo and Jaques. Jaq. Ithank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. Jaq. Heav’n bewi’ you: let’s meet as little as we can. Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly. Jaq. Rosalind is your love’s name ? Orl. Yes, just. Jaq. I do not like her name. Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. Jaq. What stature is she of ? Orl. Just as high as my heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings ?*® (48) Atomies. Bullokar, in his “‘ English Expositor,” 1616, thus explains the word:—“ An atomie is a mote flyizig in the sunne. Anything so small that it cannot be made lesse.’’ Henley says :— “ Atomies are those minute particles discernible in a stream of sun- shine that breaks into a darkened room.’’ (49) Lover. Used in Shakespeare’s time for a woman as well as fora man. See Note 47, Act i., “ Measure for Measure.’’ (50) Becomes. ‘ Adorns,’ ‘ graces,’ ‘sets off,’ ‘ ornaments ;’ Shakespeare Sometimes uses the word in the sense of ‘render becoming,’ ‘give becomingness to.’ See Note 18, Act iii., “Comedy of Errors.’’ (51) Holla! A term of the riding-school; whereby the horse was checked or stopped. (52) To kill my heart. A play on the words “heart’’ and ‘hart.’ oo You bring me out. In modern parlance, ‘You put me out.’ (54) ’Tis he: slink by, and notehim. One of Shakespeare’s touches of womanly nature. Rosalind—so eager to hear of him, so impatient to extract every particle of description of him—the instant she sees Orlando approach, draws back; and defers the moment of meeting him. In the first place, she cannot bear to join him while he has another person with him, and waits till Jaques is gone; in the next place, she wishes to look upon him, before she looks at him AS YOU LIKE IT. 4.43 Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your ques- tions. Jaq. You have a nimble wit: I think ’twas made of Atalanta’s heels.*7 Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery. Orl, I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults. Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love. Orl. °*Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. Iam weary of you. Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. Orl. He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you shall see him. Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure. Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. Jag. ll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good Signior Love. Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. [Hatt Jaques. Rosarinp and Ceria come forward. Ros. [Aside to Cutta.] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him.—[To him.] Do you hear, forester ? Orl. Very well: what would you? Ros. I pray you, what is’t o’clock ? Orl. You should ask me, what time o’ day: there’s no clock in the forest. Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper ? fos. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers — paces with divers persons: [ll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. Orl. I pr’ythee, who doth he trot withal ? Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnised: if the interim be but a se’nnight, Time’s pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years. Orl. Who ambles Time withal? face to face; and lastly, she is glad to have an interval, wherein to recover from her first emotion at hearing he is near, ere she accosts him in person. Dramatically, also, the poet is skilful in this pause ; he gives opportunity for the dialogue between Jaques and Orlando, showing them together, and making the latter avow his passion for Rosalind (in her very presence, though unconsciously), before he brings the lover to his mistress. : . (55) Conned them out of rings? “Conned”’ is ‘studied,’ ‘com- mitted to memory.’ See Note 16, Act v., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” “Them”’ refers to “pretty answers;” and the sort of “pretty ” sentences usually engraved upon “rings’”’ by “gold- smiths,’’ has been seen in the last scene of the “ Merchant of Venice,’’ where we find that Nerissa’s ring bears a posy or motto. (56) Ianswer you right painted cloth. An idiomatic form of ex- pression, signifying—‘ I answer you just afterthe fashion of painted cloth.’ This use of the word “right’’ is exemplified in the phrase discussed in Note 24, Act ii.—‘The right butter-women’s rank to market.” It was the fashion to insert moral sentences over the heads of the figures in “ painted cloth;’’ which was used for hang- ings for the walls of rooms, like tapestry, or arras. Therefore Orlando has a fling at the conventional style of Jaques’ “ questions,” affecting sententiousness and axiomatic morality. (57) Atalanta’s heels. See Note 34, Act iii. LA AS YOU LIKE IT. 444 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning ; the other knowing no burden of heavy, tedious penury: these Time ambles withal. Orl. Who doth he gallop withal? Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. Orl. Who stays it still withal ? Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth? Tos. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. Orl. Are you native of this place ? Ros. As the coney,* that you see dwell where she is kindled. Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. Ros. I have been told so of many :* but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for there® he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank Heaven I am not a woman, to be touched ™ with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women ? Ros. There were none principal: they were all like one another as half-pence are; every one fault seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it. Orl. I pr’ythee, recount some of them. Ros. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. 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, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian® of love upon him. Orl. Jam he that is so love-shaked : I pray you, tell me your remedy. (58) Coney. Rabbit. Italian, coniglia. (59) Kindled. Broughtforth; born. , (71) Point-device. Precise, over-particular, punctiliously nice, finical. See Note 13, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ ‘ (72) But are you so much in love, &c. Ah! sly rogue, Rosalind ! and slyer rogue, Shakespeare ! (66) There is none of my wnele’s marks. “Is”? for ‘are,’ and (73) Moonish. Variable, or subject to change, as the moon. \ Py X SN SSS SS i WA NK hh NY —S—— AN S\N WW wy NO arks P —which you h What were his m Orlando. > ave not; k, an chee Rosalind. — You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? You are a thousand times a properer! man Than she a woman: ’tis such fools as you That make the world full of ill-favour’d children: “Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her.— But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love: For I must tell you friendly in your ear,— Sell when you can: you are not for all markets: Cry the man mercy ;!7 love him; take his offer: Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.— So, take her to thee, shepherd :—fare you well. Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- gether: I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. ftos. He’s fallen in love with your foulness, [To Sttvius] and she’ll fall in love with my anger.18 If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, Pll sauce her with bitter words.—[To Puxss. | Why look you so upon me? Phe. For no ill-will I bear you. Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine: Besides, I like you not.—If you will know my house, *Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.— passage has been sometimes left out, and sometimes changed to ‘mo,’ or ‘more,’ by various editors. But the tenour of Rosalind’s whole speech goes to disparage Phebe’s personal appearance, and she asks her, “ Because you have no beauty, must you be therefore proud and pitiless?”’ in consonance with the antiquated saying quoted in Note 84, Act iii.:—“If fayre, she is sluttish; if foule she is prowd.”’ It is an old remark, that the least well-favoured women are frequently the most vain, and give themselves most airs upon their self-supposed good looks. The line a little farther on, “Foul is most foul, being fowl to be a scoffer,” is also in keeping with the saying from Florio’s book; taking “scoffer’? in the sense of one who is proud, disdainful, and contemptuous in speech. (114) Nature’s sale-work. ‘* Sale-work ” is a term used for those goods got up for immediate sale, in contradistinction to those expressly ordered, or bespoken; the former being indifferently executed, the latter with more care and finish. (115) Can entame my spirits to your worship. ‘Can subdue my affections to idolatry of you.’ (116) Properer. ‘Handsomer.’ See Note 67, Act ii., “ Much Ado.” “More proper,” a little farther on, is used in the same sense. (117) Cry theman mercy. ‘ Ask the man’s pardon,’ ‘ crave his for- bearance.’ “Cry you mercy” is a phrase frequently occurring in Shakespeare; it was a colloquialism of the time for ‘I beg your pardon,’ ‘I crave your forbearance.’ (118) With your foulness, and she'll fall, &c. This is an instance of Shakespeare’s changing from the second person to the third person in the same speech. See Note 30, Act v., “Measure for Measure.’’ Rosalind first replies to Phebe, and then turns to Silvius; which accounts for the “she” in the sentence so soon after “ your,’ which some editors have changed to ‘ her.’ Scenz V.| Will you go, sister >—Shepherd, ply her hard.— Come, sister.—Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud: though all the world could see, None could be so abus’d in sight as he,"’— Come, to our flock. | Hxeunt Rosaurnp, Caria, and Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might,— * Who ever lov’d that lov’d not at first sight ?”’!”° Sil. Sweet Phebe,— Phe. Ha, what say’st thou, Silvius ? Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Phe. Why, Iam sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be: If you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Were both extermin’d. Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly ? Sil. I would have you. Phe. Why, that were covetousness. Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee ; And yet it is not, that I bear thee love: But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst’! was irksome to me, I will endure; and I'll employ thee too: But do not look for farther recompense Than thine own gladness that thou art employ’d. Sil. So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then A scatter’d smile, and that Dll live upon. Phe. Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? Si. Not very well, but I have met him oft; (119) Though all the world could see, none, &c. ‘Tf all mankind could look upon you, none could be so blind to the truth as he is in thinking you beautiful.’ (120) ** Whoever lov’d that lov’d not at first sight ?”? This is a line quoted from Marlowe’s poem of ‘ Hero and Leander,”’ first printed in 1598, although it had been left unfinished at his death, which occurred in 1593. Shakespeare’s putting the words ‘“ dead shep- herd” into the mouth of Phebe has a kindly effect; and it is pleasant to note these instances of a poet’s affectionate remem- brance of a brother poet. See Notes 3 and 20, Act iii., “ Merry Wives.” George Chapman, the fine and vigorous translator of Homer, completed this unfinished poem of Marlowe’s previously to its publication; Milton celebrated the early demise of a young fellow-student and fellow-poet, in his lovely poem of “ Lycidas;” Shelley recorded the loss of John Keats in the magnificent elegiac poem, “‘ Adonais;” while Shakespeare has more than one reference to Marlowe’s muse. (121) Erst. ‘Formerly,’ ‘previously.’ ‘Ere,’ before, and ‘ erst,’ at first, are from the Saxon er; “erst”? being the superlative of ere. (122) Carlot. A variety of ‘carle,’ a boor, a peasant, a country- man. It is synonymous with the more modern word ‘churl,’ which AshYVOOMLEREY IP. 451 And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot'”? once was master of. Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; *Tis but a peevish!*$ boy :—yet he talks well ;— But what care I for words? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth :—not very pretty :— But, sure, he’s proud; and yet his pride becomes him: He’ll make a proper man: the best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. , He is not very tall; yet for his years he’s tall: His leg is but so so; and yet *tis well: There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix’d in his cheek; ’twas just the diffe- rence Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.!** There be some women, Silvius, had they mark’d him In parcels?” as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him: but, for my part, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet Have more cause!’ to hate him than to love him: For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black ; And, now I am remember’d,!*’ scorn’d at me: I marvel why I answer’d not again: But that’s all one; omittance is no quittance. Pll write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius ? Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. Phe. Pll write it straight ; The matter’s in my head and in my heart: I will be bitter with him and passing short.” Go with me, Silvius. [ Exeunt. first meant a rude, rough rustic, and then came to mean a brutal, morose, ill-conditioned fellow. The man here in question is de- scribed (Act ii., sc. 4) as being “of churlish disposition.”’ (123) Peevish. ‘Wayward,’ ‘perverse. See Note 3, Act v., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.’’ (124) The constant red and mingled damask. A poetical allusion to the rich, full colour of red roses, and the exquisite blush varieties of damask roses. ‘‘ Mingled damask” here means the same as “damask sweet commixture”’ in “ Love’s Labour’s Lost,” Act v., sc. 2. (125) In parcels. ‘In portions,’ ‘part by part.’ (126) Have more cause. “Have”? and “has’’ were frequently used without the previous ‘I,’ which is understood before them. Here “Have more cause,” &¢., is tantamount to ‘I’ve, or I have more cause,’ &c.; the “I? in the previous line being understood as if repeated. ii (127) Now I am remember’d. ‘Now I remember.’ See Note 94, ct ii. (128) PU write it straight. “Straight” is here used for ‘directly,’ ‘immediately.’ See Note 102, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.” (129) Passing short. “Passing’’ is used for ‘surpassingly,’ * ex. cessively ;’ “short’’ is used for ‘curt,’ ‘sharp,’ ‘ snappish. AS YOU LIKE IT. Ss SG = Ye SS SSS Jaques. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Rosalind. ‘They say you are a melancholy fellow. Act IV. Scene I. AG Tea SCENE I.—The forest of ARDEN. Enter Rosatrnp, Cexta, and Jaquzs. Jaq. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. Iam so; I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern! censure worse than drunkards. Jaq. Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing. fos. Why, then, ’tis good to be a post. Jag. I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician’s, which is fantastical ; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; nor 5 9 Pp 5 , (1) Modern, Used in the sense of ‘common,’ ‘ ordinary,’ “general, (2) Nice. Used here for ‘mincing,’ ‘ affected,’ ‘ modish.’ _ 8) Compounded of many simples. Jaques here uses the word “simples,” figuratively, in the sense of drugs or herbs containing medical properties; and, punningly, in the sens9 of ‘ simpletonisms,’ which he has observed in the course of his journeys. the soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s, which is politic; nor the lady’s, which is nice ;* nor the lover’s, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples,> extracted from many objects ; and, indeed, the sundry contem- plation of my travels; which, by often rumination,‘ wraps me in a most humorous?® sadness. Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands, to see other men’s; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. Ros, And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too! (4) Which, by often rumination. The Folio inserts ‘in’ before “which ;”’ the printer’s eye having probably caught the word, which occurs again in the sentence. (5) Humorous. Used here for ‘full of strange humours,’ ‘ full of whimsical fancies and cynical notions.’ Jaques is evidently proud of his cynicism, his snarling philosophy, his harsh opinions of the world, his self-conceited melancholy. iy WZ Tt LE Second Lord. What shall he have that kill’d the deer ? His leather skin, and horns to wear. Act IV. Scene II aie ya Se Pha ote esa ~ : rade Scene I.] AS YOU Enter ORLANDO. Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay, then, Heav’n bewi’ you, an you talk in blank verse. Ros. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look,’ you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable’ all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide Heaven for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.’ [Hzxit Jaques.] Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover!—An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. oe Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. Ros. Break an hour’s promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the shoulder, but Pll warrant him heart-whole. Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be wooed of a snail. Orl. Of a snail! Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head,—a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman. Orl. My Rosalind is virtuous. Ros. And I am your Rosalind. Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer? than you. Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now lam ina holiday humour, and like enough to consent.—What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind ?!° Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled! for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers, lacking (Heaven warn us!!*) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress ? fos. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress ; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. (6) Look. Used here for ‘see that,’ ‘mind that.’ at Disable. Used here for ‘disparage,’ ‘depreciate,’ ‘ under- value. (8) Have swam in a gondola. “Swam” is here used where “swum” would be more correct; but these grammatical licences were then allowed. For an explanation of “a gondola,’ see Note 93, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.” The allusion here is to visiting Venice; which was then the resort of travelled youth, rer noted for its vicious social life. See Note 41, Act i., “ Much oO. (9) Leer. Complexion, look, countenance, appearance. The word has been derived from the Saxon hleare, face, visage. (10) Very very Rosalind? ‘‘ Very” is here used for ‘ true,’ ‘ real.’ See Note 27, Act iii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.”’ (11) Gravelled. ‘Stuck fast,’ ‘brought to a standstill.’ It is an expression used in familiar parlance, in the same way as the phrase, ‘run aground.’ LIKE IT. 455 Orl. What, of my suit? Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.!8 Am not I your Rosalind ? Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. Ros. Well, in her person, I say—I will not have you. Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. Ros. No, ’faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet,” in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before; and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drowned: and the foolish chroniclers!® of that age found it was—Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies: men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more-coming- on disposition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. Ros. Yes, ’faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.!7 Orl. And wilt thou have me ? Ros. Ay, and twenty such. Orl. What sayest thou ? Ros. Are you not good? Orl. I hope so. Ros. Why, then, can one desire too much of a good thing ?—Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us.—Give me your hand, Orlando.— What do you say, sister ? Orl. Pray thee, marry us. Cel. I cannot say the words. Ros. You must begin,—“ Will you, Orlando,”— Cel. Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind ? Orl. I will. Ros. Ay, but when? * Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Ros. Then you must say,—“I take thee, Rosa- lind, for wife.” (12) Heaven warn us! A parenthetical exclamation (like “ Bless the mark! ”), used in deprecation and in excuse. (13) Out of your swit. A pun on the word “suit ;’ of ‘dress,’ and in the sense of ‘ petition.’ (14) Die by attorney. ‘Die by deputy. Shakespeare often uses “attorney’’ in this sense. See Note 6, Act v., “Comedy of Errors.”’ (15) Videlicet. ‘That is to say.’ at (16) Chroniclers. Some have supposed this to be a misprint for ‘coroners.’ But Shakespeare occasionally gives toa word the effect of another by using some technicality that peculiarly belongs to the latter one; as here, “found”’ being the technical term for a verdict pronounced at a coroner’s inquest, “chroniclers’’ stands for historians, while having the effect of ‘ coroners.’ (17) Fridays and Saturdays and all. These being the days of the week devoted by the Catholic Church to fasting or abstinence, Rosalind implies that she will love Orlando as a feast. ’ in the sense 456 Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; but, —I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband :—there’s a girl goes before the priest;!* and, certainly, a woman’s thought runs before her actions. Orl. So do all thoughts,—they are winged. Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have possessed her. ‘ Orl. For ever and a day. Ros. Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain ; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen,” and that when thou art inclined to sleep. Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ? Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. Orl. Oh, but she is wise. Ros. Or else she could not have the wit®! to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doors” upon a woman’s wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and ’twill out at the key-hole; stop that, *twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say,—“ Wit, whither wilt?” 3 Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s ed. Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that ? Ros. Marry, to say,—she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. Oh, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband’s occasion,”4 let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool! Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. Ros. hours ! Orl, I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o’clock I will be with thee again. fos. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;—I knew what you would prove: my friends told me as much, and I thought no less:—that flattering tongue of yours won me:—’tis but one cast away, and so,— come, death !—Two o’clock is your hour ? Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two (18) Goes beforethe priest. Anticipates what Celia, in her enacting the priest’s part, should have said; that is—‘ Will you, Rosalind, have to husband this Orlando ?’ (19) Like Diana in the fountain. Fountains, with a statue of some heathen god or goddess, contrived so as to represent a weeping figure, by means of the water conveyed through it, were formerly common. (20) Hyen. ‘Hyena.’ The cry of this animal is supposed to re- semble a discordant laugh; so much go, that one variety is called ‘the laughing hyena.’ (21) Wit. Used here in the sense of quickness, intelligence. (22) Make the doors. ‘Make the doors fast;’ ‘fasten the doors.’ See Note 12, Act iii., “ Comedy of Errors.” (23) “ Wit, whither wilt?” A colloquial phrase, tantamount to “Where’s your tongue running to?’ AS YOU LIKE IT. [Acr IV. Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so Heaven mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most patheticul® break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore, beware my censure, and keep your promise. Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind : so, adieu. Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines — all such offenders, and let Time try: adieu. [| Hait ORLANDO. Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. fos. Oh, coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. fos. No, that same wicked brat of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one’s eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love:—I’ll tell thee, Aliena,%6 I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow,” and sigh till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep. [ Kaeunt. —E SCENE Il.—Another part of the forest. Enter Jaques and Lords. Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? First Lord. Sir, it was I. Jaq. Let’s present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror: and it would do well to set the deer’s horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. — Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ? Sec. Lord. Yes, sir. Jaq. Sing it: ’tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.” Sona. What shall he have that kill’d the deer? His leather skin, and horns to wear. The rest shall bear ; : 29 Then sing him home. this burden. (24) Make her fault her husbamd’s occasion. ‘Make out her fault to be her husband’s occasioning,’ or, ‘to be occasioned by her husband.’ (25) Pathetical. Full of touching eloquence; gifted with moving powers of talk. See Note 25, Act iv., “ Love’s Labour's Lost.’’ (26) PU tell thee, Aliena. ‘I'll tell thee” seems to us to be used here, as in the first scene (“I'll tell thee, Charles ”*), for ‘I'll own to thee,’ ‘ I’ll confess to thee.’ (27) A shadow. Used here for ‘a shady spot;’ as in “ Macbeth” (iv. 3), “Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there weep.” (28) ’Tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. A speech thoroughly characteristic of the acerb, harsh, discordant- natured Jaques; who is described in Act ii., sc. 6, as “ compact of jars.” (29) Then sing him home. ‘These words, and “The rest shall | Scene III. ] AS YOU Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; It was a crest ere thou wast born: Thy father’s father wore it, And thy father bore it : The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [ Exeunt. SCENE III.—Another part of the forest. Enter Rosatinp and Cri. Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? and here much Orlando! *° Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta’en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth—to sleep. Look, who comes here. Enter Stivivs. Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ;— My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this: [Giving a letter. I know not the contents; but, as I guess By the stern brow and waspish action Which she did use as she was writing of it, It bears an angry tenour: pardon me, Iam but as a guiltless messenger. Ros. Patience herself would letter, And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all: She says I am not fair; that I lack manners; She calls me proud; and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as phoenix. ’Od’s my will! Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: Why writes she so to me?-— Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device. Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents: Phebe did write it.** Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, And turn’d into the extremity of love. I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand, A. freestone-colour’d hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands: She has a huswife’s hand; but that’s no matter: I say, she never did invent this letter ; This is a man’s invention, and his hand. startle at this bear this burden,” form a line of the song in the Folio; but the latter seem as if they should be printed as a stage direc- tion, while “Then sing him home”’ seems to be the burden in question. (30) Here much Orlando! This is an ironical form of ex- pression which Shakespeare uses elsewhere in simply the word “Much!’’ as an exclamation. The idiom still exists in such pinecee as, ‘Much he comes!’ ‘Much I’ll go!’ ‘Much she’ll do it!’ &e. 5 (31) Phebe did write it. Mason’s conjecture, that this line origi- nally finished with the words, ‘with her own fair hand,’ is very plausible. Some allusion to the whiteness and delicacy of Phebe’s hand seems requisite to account for Rosalind’s abuse of its colour and texture; as else this abuse comes in without apparent con- secution. (32) Ethiop. Properly, a native of Ethiopia; but sometimes used in the same way as ‘ blackmoor’ or ‘ blackamore,’ to express a 58 LIKE IT. 457 Sil. Sure, it is hers. Ros. Why, ’tis a boisterous and a _ cruel style, A style for challengers ; why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: woman’s gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Such Ethiop®” words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance.—Will you hear the letter ? Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet ; Yet heard too much of Phebe’s cruelty. Ros. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. [ Reads. Art thou god to shepherd turn’d, That a maiden’s heart hath burn’d P— Can a woman rail thus ? Sil. Call you this railing ? Ros. [ Reads. | Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart ?P— Did you ever hear such railing ?— [ Reads. Whiles the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance * to me.— Meaning me a beast. [ Reads. Tf the scorn of your bright eyne* Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspéct ! Whiles you chid me, I did love ; How then might your prayers move! He that brings this love to thee Little knows this love in me: And by him seal up thy mind ; Whether that thy youth and kind” Will the faithful offer take Of me, and all that I can make; *® Or else by him my love deny,*” And then I'll study how to die. Sil. Call you this chiding ? Cel. Alas! poor shepherd! Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.— Wilt thou love such a woman?—What! to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured !— Well, go your way to her (for I see love hath made thee a tame snake), and say this to her :—that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her.—If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [ Hait Siivius. general notion of a swart personage, a black man, a negro—such an ideal creature as the giant black slaves who figure in the “‘ Arabian Nights’ Entertainments,” or other colossal barbarians of romance. (33) Vengeance. Used here for mischief, harm. ¢ (34) Eyne. Old form of ‘eyes.’ See Note 38, Acti., ““ Midsummer Night’s Dream.”’ (35) Kind. Here used in its old sense of nature, natural affection or propensity. oa (36) Make. Here used for the sake of rhyme; but it is compre- hensively expressive, in Shakespeare’s way of combining several meanings in one word. By “all that I can make,’ Phebe means ‘all that she can earn,’ ‘all that she can do,’ and ‘all that she can make up (or sum up) in herself.’ (87) Deny. Here used for ‘refuse. See Note 34, Act iv., © Much Ado.” : : (38) A tame snake. Just one of Rosalind’s witty terms; implying an abjectly creeping or crawling creature. 458 AS YOU Enter Outver. Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus* of this forest stands A sheep-cote fene’d about with olive-trees ? Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom : The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, Left on your right hand,” brings you to the place. But at this hour the house doth keep itself ; There’s none within. Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you by description ; Such garments, and such years: —‘“ The boy is fair, Of female favour,*! and bestows® himself Like a ripe sister :# but the woman low, And browner* than her brother.” Are not you The owner of the house I did inquire for ? Cel. It is no boast, being ask’d, to say we are.® Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both ; And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin: *—are you he ? fos. Iam: what must we understand by this? Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkerchief was stain’d. Cel. 1 pray you, tell it. Olt. When last the young Orlando parted from ou, He if @ 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 old 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 (39) Purlieus. This was anciently a term applied to certain ground adjoining a forest, cleared and enclosed. French, purlieu, clear place. (40) Left on your right hand. The whole of the sentence means, “Tf you leave the rank of osiers on your right hand, you will arrive at the place.’ (41) Of female favour. Of female aspect, look, appearance, or countenance. See Note 8, Act ii., ‘Much Ado.” (42) Bestows. Used here for ‘acts,’ ‘ behaves,’ “comports.’ Shakespeare elsewhere employs this word in a similar sense ; and he seems to include in it the effect of both appearance and conduct. (43) Like a ripe sister. ‘ Like a full-grown sister.’ Rosalind is taller than Celia; while, as a youth, she has still a feminine appearance. (44) Browner. It must be remembered that when Celia pro- poses to disguise herself as a shepherdess, she says she will “with a kind of umber smirch” her “face; ” and this “ browner”’ com- plexion, mentioned now, shows that she has fulfilled her idea. See Note 70, Act i. (45) We are. In this little touch thera is manifestation of Shakespeare’s subtlety and true taste. Oliver, wholly occupied with Celia, asks her if she be the “owner of the house’’ he in- quires for; but she, with the usual delicacy, modesty, and generosity which characterise her, especially where sharing all things equally with her cousin is conterned, answers by a word that comprehends them both as joint owners. (46) Napkin. In Shakespeare’s time used for ‘ handkerchiet? (47) Within an hour. Those who stickle for what they ¢all ‘con- LIKE IT. [Acr IV. 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 cat -like watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for tis 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. Cel. Oh, I have heard him speak of that same brother ; And he did render“ him the most unnatural That liv’d ’mongst men. Oli. And well he might so do. For well I know he was unnatural. fos. But, to Orlando :—did he leave him there, Food to the suck’d and hungry lioness ? Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos’d 80; 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. Cel. Are you his brother ? Ros. Was it you he rescu’d? Cel. Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him ? Oli. *Twas TI; but ’tis not I: I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?— Oli. 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, sistency’ say that here we should read “within two hours are because when Orlando parts from Rosalind, in Act iv., se. 1, he says—‘‘ For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.’ But we have in many instances shown that Shakespeare purposely gives these variations and vaguenesses to his Dramatic Time, where he wishés to produce the effect of indefiniteness. (48) Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy. In this celebrated line many have believed “food” to be a misprint for ‘cud.’ But this passage seems to us to be one of those that afford an instance of what we pointed out in Note 16 of the present Act, on the word “chroniclers ’’—that Shakespeare sometimes gives the effect of another word to one he uses, by introducing an expression peculiarly applied to the word which seems to be present in the sentence. Thus, while using the word “ food,’’ he makes it appear to be ‘cud’ by the introduction of the word “chewing ;’”’ which is almost in- variably consociated with ‘cud,’ “ Fancy’”’ was often used for ‘love,’ or enamoured imagination; which has been represented by poets, from time immemorial, to be full of sweetness and bitterness, as well as other contrasted qualities. (49) Render. Describe, demonstrate by representation, or ren- dered account. (50) His just occasion. That which might justly have occasioned his resentful abandonment of his brother. Be it observed that “occasion” is here used as elliptically as it is in the passage dis- cussed in Note 24 of this Act. (51) In which hurtling. ‘During. which clashing encounter, or noisy struggle.’ Shakespeare elsewhere has the word “ hurtled” in a similar sense. (2) As, how. ‘ As, for instance, by what means.’ EEE CERIN newer ee Scene I] AS YOU Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, Committing me unto my brother’s love ; Who led me instantly unto his cave, There stripp’d himself, and here upon his arm The lioness had torn some flesh away, Which all this while had bled ; fainted, And cried, in fainting, upon, Rosalind. Brief, I recover’d 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, Dy’d in his blood, unto the shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. and now he [Rosatinp faints. Gel. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Gany- mede ! Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. Cel. There is more in it. — Cousin! — Gany- mede ! *8 Oli. Look, he recovers. ALONE SCENE I.—The forest of ARDEN. Enter Toucustone and AupDREY. Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. Aud. ’Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman’s saying.' Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. Aud. Ay, I know who ’tis: he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean, Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a (53) Cousin!—Ganymede! Johnson was the first to point out the touch of natural feeling here: that Celia, in her alarm at seeing Rosalind faint, forgets their assumed characters and disguise, and calls upon her by the accustomed title of “cousin,’’ and then, recollecting herself, says, “Ganymede!” This is marred by the Folio’s printing the passage unstopped (and the mal-punctuation in the Folio is remarkable), thus:—‘Cosen Ganimed.’ The old printer doubtless missed the poet’s meaning, and took “ cousin” for a usual term of address; butif it had been so, Celia would have said, “ Brother Ganymede.” (54) Will you take him by the arm? Here is another of Shake- speare’s subtly characteristic touches. Celia, like a true woman for the first time in love, and in love at first sight, eagerly takes the opportunity of retaining near her the man she loves, and as gladly enlists his services of manly support and kindness on behalf of one dear to her. But while indicating this womanly trait in Celia, he at the same time marks her generosity of nature, by making her, even in the first moment of awakened interest in Oliver, still most mindful of her cousin Rosalind; whom, when she sees likely to LIKE IT. A59 Ros. 1 would I were at home. Cel. We'll lead you thither.— I pray you, will you take him by the arm ?** Oli. Be of good cheer, youth :—you a man? you lack a man’s heart. Ros. Idoso,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 !— Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion®’ of earnest. Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. Oli. Well, then, take a good heart, and counter- feit to be a man. Ros. So I do: but, i’faith, I should have been a woman by right. Cel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw homewards.—Good sir, go with us. Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. Ros. I shall devise something. But, 1 pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him :—will you go? [| Hxeunt. We clown: by my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be flouting ; we cannot hold.” Enter Wit1AM. Will. Good even, Audrey. Aud. Give ye good even, William. Will. And good even to you, sir. Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr’ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend ? Will. Five-and-twenty, sir. Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ? Will. William, sir. ° betray her secret, she calls to herself by the words—‘ Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw homewards.” (55) Sirrah. Often used by writers in Shakespeare’s time as a merely familiar title of address. (56) This was well counterfeited. By “this,” Rosalind means her swoon in the character of Orlando’s mistress. (57) Passion. Shakespeare sometimes uses this word for “power- ful emotion ;’ ‘ fit of strong inward feeling.’ (1) The old gentleman’s saying. The epithet “old gentleman a is excellently put into Audrey’s mouth; as conveying just the effect that a hackneyed man of the world would have upon a rustic young girl. A sniff at his seeming “old,” too, would be a natural vent for her pettishness at his interference ; without necessarily implying that Jaques is of advanced age. He seems to be chiefly ae in the ways of the world and in worldly vices. See Note 31, ct i. (2) Hold. Hold back; refrain. eee 460 Touch. Enter a Servant. Serv. Your honour’s players, hearing amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy ; For so your doctors hold it very meet, Seeing too much sadness hath congeal’d your blood, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy : Therefore they thought it good you hear a play, And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. Sly. Marry, I will;*’ let them play it. Is nota commonty** a Christmas gambol or a tumbling-trick? Page. No, my good lord; itis more pleasing stuff. Sly. What! household stuff ? Page. Itis a kind of history. Sly. Well, we'll see’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip:*® we shall ne’er be younger. [They sit down. your ae el eee SCENE I.--Papva. Enter Lucentio and Tranto. A public place. Ine. Tranio, since, for the great desire I had To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,! T am arriv’d for fruitful Lombardy, The pleasant garden of great Italy ; And, by my father’s love and leave, am arm’d With his good will and thy good company, My trusty servant, well approv’d in all; ae or seal to be of the requisite size for containing that quantity of liquor. (54) Of Greece. Blackstone plausibly suggested that we should here read ‘o’ the green.’ In the “Second Part of Henry IV.” (iii. 2) we find—* Peter Bull-calf of the green,” which, in the Folio, is printed ‘of the Greene.’ (55) I thank thee. This speech is probably made in answer to one of the servants bringing Sly some of the “sack” and “ conserves ;”’ as immediately after he says, “I fare well, for here is cheer enough;”’ which latter words we may imagine to be spoken with his mouth full, while cramming in the good things before him. (56) Above some fifteen year or more. Some editors have objected to the wording of this line, altering “ above” to ‘about,’ and “or’’ to ‘and;’ but its very vagueness of expression is characteristic of the speaker. (57) Marry, I will. Sly, answering the proposal to “ hear a play,” says, “I will.” In the Folio, the stopping is different; and some editors, adopting that punctuation, give the passage rather a dif- ferent meaning. (58) Commonty. Sly’s blunder for ‘ comedy.’ (59) Let the world slip. Sly here varies his favourite adage. See Note 4. Here let us breathe, and haply institute A course of learning and ingenious? studies. Pisa, renownéd for grave citizens, Gave me my being, and my father first, A merchant of great traffic through the world, Vincentio,® come of the Bentivolii. Vincentio’s son, brought up in Florence, It shall become, to serve‘ all hopes conceiv’d, To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, (1) Padua, nursery of arts. Padua, possessed of a university founded early in the thirteenth century by Frederick Barbarossa, and boasting among its most celebrated students Petrarch, Galileo, and Columbus, was long famed as a seat of erudition. In Florio’s “Second Frutes,’’ where there is an enumeration of some of Italy’s chief cities, Padua thus figures—“ Milan great, Venice rich, Genoa proud, Bologna fertile, Naples gentle, Florence fair, Padua learned, Ravenna ancient, and Rome holy.”’ : f (2) Ingenious. It has been pointed out that in Shakespeare s time this word was sometimes used for ‘ingenuous;’ but in the present passage “ ingenious’? may equally well be taken in its stricter sense of intellectual, scientific. : ee (3) Vineentio. This, in the Folio, is misprinted ‘ Vincentio’s, probably because the printer’s eye caught it from the line im- mediately below. It has been objected that it is absurd to make Lucentio tell Tranio his old master’s name; but it might be equally so (excepting for dramatic purposes, which render it expedient for the information of readers of this opening scene) to tell him that he himself was born at Pisa, and that his father was a merchant, &e. “Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii,’ is the merchant's style and title; and, as it were, shows why he ranks “ first”’ in Padua. (4) Serve. Used here for ‘ fulfil,’ ‘minister to by achievement.’ 480 Virtue, and that part of philosophy Will I apply,® that treats of happiness By virtue specially to be achiev’d. Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left, And am to Padua come, as he that leaves A shallow plash,° to plunge him in the deep, And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. [Acr I. | And practise rhetoric in your common talk ; | Music and poesy use to quicken you ; The mathematics and the metaphysics, Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you; No profit grows,'* where is no pleasure ta’en: In brief, sir, study what you most affect.'8 Luc. Gramercies,! Tranio, well dost thou advise. li , Rng Fi | i oe j Hy i" | | SN Sly. Well, we'll see’t. slip: we shall ne’er be younger. Tra. Mi perdonate,’ gentle master mine, I am in all affected® as yourself; Glad that you thus continue your resolve To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. Only, good master, while we do admire " This virtue and this moral discipline, Let’s be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray ; Or so devote® to Aristotle’s ethics,! As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur’d: Balk" logic with acquaintance that you have, (5) Apply. This word was formerly employed a3 we now use the word ‘ ak , practise diligently. It was used elliptically for ‘apply the mind to,’ ‘ apply the faculties to the acquirement of, or practice of.’ (6) Plash. Pool, pond, puddle; small piece of water. (7) Mi perdonate. Italian; ‘ pardon me.’ (8) Affected. Inclined; disposed towards. ne Devote. Used for ‘ devoted,’ or (elliptically) for ‘ devote our- selves.’ (10) Ethics. The Folio here prints ‘checkes.’ gested the correction. (11) Balk. To wrangle as a disputant, to altercate in reasoning. Blackstone sug- Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world Induction. Scene II, If Biondello now were come! ashore, We could at once put us in readiness ; And take a lodging, fit to entertain Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. But stay awhile: what company is this ? Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town. Enter Baptista, Karnartna, Branca, Gremio, and Horrtensio. Lucentio and Tranto stand aside. Bap. Gentlemen, impértune me no farther, To “balk logic” was formerly used as we now use ‘to chop logic.’ Rowe altered “balk’’ to ‘talk,’ and he is followed in some editions 3 but “balk”? was employed by Spenser and other writers of his time, as by Shakespeare in the present passage. (12) Grows. Used in the sense of ‘accrues.’ See Note 55, Act iv., “Comedy of Errors.” (13) Affect. Have an inclination for; have a predilection for. (14) Gramercies. A form of ‘gramercy;’ many thanks. See Note 35, Act ii., “ Merchant of Venice.” (15) If Biondello now were come. The Folio prints ‘thou wert’ for “now were;” the emendation of Mr. Collier’s MS. corrector. Scene I.| For how I firmly am resolv’d you know: That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter Before I have a husband for the elder : If either of you both love Katharina, Because I know you well, and love you well, Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. Gre. To cart her rather: she’s too rough for me.— There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife ? Kath. [To Bar.]| I pray you, sir, is it your will To make a stale of me amongst these mates ?!® Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. Kath. faith, sir, you shall never need to fear: I wis it is not half way to her heart ; But if it were, doubt not her care should be To comb your noddle with a three-legg’d stool, And paint your face, and use you like a fool.!8 Hor. From all such demons, good Lord deliver us ! Gre. And me too! Tra. Hush,.master! here is some good pastime toward : That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward. Ie. But in the other’s silence do I see Maid’s mild behaviour and sobriety. Peace, Tranio ! Tra. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good What I have said,—Bianca, get you in: And let it not displease thee, good Bianca ; For I will love thee ne’er the less, my girl. Kath. A pretty peat! it is best Put finger in the eye,—an she knew why. Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent.?°— (16) To make a stale of me amongst these mates? Katharina, hearing her father thus coarsely offer her in marriage, like goods hawked about for sale, asks him if it be his will to make her this commonised ware among these chapmen companions. She not only uses the word “ mates” in the sense of ‘companions,’ which has been shown to have been often employed disparagingly in Shake- speare’s time (see. Note 7, Act iii., “‘ Merry Wives’’); but there is a kind of punning reference to the terms ‘ stale’ and ‘mate’ at chess, which signify positions of awkwardness and dilemma in the game, and (figuratively) apply to the humiliating position in which she is placed by Baptista’s unfatherly speech. Hortensio, feeling the sting in the word “‘ mates” as Katharina uses it, replies by employing it in the sense of partners for life—husbands. (17) Iwis. I know, I am certain. See Note 112, Act ii., “ Mer- chant of Venice.” (18) Use yout like a fool. The rough usage to which the heads of professional fool-jesters were subjected has been shown in Note 17, Act v., “ Comedy of Errors.” (19) Peat. A form of ‘pet,’ from the French petite, little; often used as a term of endearment. Katharina uses it in indignant allusion to the partiality of the father; petting and soothing one sister, who has been nowise injured, while degrading the other, and subjecting her to insult. (20) Content you in my discontent. Bianca so generally produces the same impression upon superficial observers that she does upon Lucentio, that we take the pains to point out those passages where the character displays itself according to our view of Shakespeare’s intention in its delineation. He has drawn it subtly, by skilful touches, scarcely perceptible to casual lookers-on; but clearly visible to those who know how false a reputation such mincing pre- tenders to sweetness, such demure affecters of modesty, such artful assumers of meekness, almost universally obtain. In these very first lines she utters, we find Bianca, under appearance of a mild appeal to her sister, really uttering an uncharitable insinuation that Katharina will take delight in her being sent to her room—just the unkind construction that would peculiarly gall a nature like Kate’s; and then she goes on to parade her excess of filial obedience, 61 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 481 Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: My books and instruments shall be my company, On them to look, and practise by myself. Ine. Hark, Tranio! thou mayst hear Minerva speak. Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange 2?! Sorry am I that our good will effects Bianca’s grief. Gre. Why will you mew her up,” Signior Baptista, for this fiend-like shrew, And make her bear the penance of her tongue ? Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; 1 am resolv’d:— Go in, Bianca :— | Hait Branca. And for I know she taketh most delight In music, instruments, and poetry, Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, Fit to instruct her youth.—If you, Hortensio,— Or Signior Gremio, you,— know any such, — Prefer them hither ;** for to cunning®> men I will be very kind, and liberal To mine own children in good bringing-up : And so, farewell.—Katharina, you may stay ; For I have more to commune with Bianca. Kath. not ? What! shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I knew not what to take, and what to leave, ha ? Exit. Gre. You may go to the world’s end: a gifts are so good,” here’s none will hold you.—Their love is not so great,” Hortensio, but we may blow our nails* together, and fast it fairly out: our cake’s dough on both sides.” Farewell :—yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father. Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I [ Heit. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I and her ultra-devotion to solitary study. Artful and artificial is Bianca from first to last. She gains herself a name for gentleness of temper by making a foil out of her sister’s violence of temper, and causes herself to appear charming by forming the extremest of contrasts with Katharina’s conduct in all things. (21) Strange. Used here for ‘odd in conduct,’ ‘peculiar in resolve.’ (22) Mew her wp. Shut her up; confine or imprison her, as in a cage. See Note 10, Acti., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (23) And for I know she taketh, fc. “‘For’’ used in the sense of “ because.’ (24) Prefer them hither. Send them hither for acceptance; pre- sent them to me that I may engage their services. Shakespeare uses “ prefer’? and “ preferred’’ in this sense elsewhere. See Note 39, Act iv., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (25) Cunning. Skilful, proficient. See Note 26, Induction. (26) Your gifts are so good. One ot Shakespeare’s ironical phrases. “Gifts” is here used for ‘ qualities,’ ‘endowments.’ (27) Their love is not so great. “'Their’’ in this sentence has puzzled the commentators, who have variously altered it to ‘our,’ ‘your,’ ‘this,’ &e. But “their” seems to us to refer to “ gifts;’’ in which case the meaning would be, ‘The love of her gifts is not so great on our parts, Hortensio, as to induce either of us to marry Katharina, and enable the other to win Bianca; therefore we may bear our impatience as well as we may together.’ (28) Blow our nails. A colloquial expression then in use for re- maining bafiled, unable to take any steps in a vexatious affair. See Note 174, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’? South, in one of his sermons, says— So that the king, for anything that he has to do in these matters, may sit and blow his nails; for use them otherwise he cannot.’’ (29) Our cake’s dough on both sides. A proverbial expression, signifying, our prospect of success has turned out a failure, like a cake put down to the embers to bake, and sometimes proving scorched on one side, and underdone, or dough, on the other; some- times dough on both. (30) I will wish him to her father. “ Wish,’’ as here, was formerly sometimes used in the sense of * recommend.’ 482 pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked parle,*! know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both,**—that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca’s love,— to labour and effect one thing ’specially. Gre. What’s that, I pray? Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. Gre. A husband! a dotard. Hor. I say, a husband. Gre. Isay,adotard. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to her? Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all faults and money enough. Gre. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition,—to be whipped at the high-cross every morning. Hor. Faith, as you say, there’s small choice in rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintained, till by helping Baptista’s eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have to’t afresh.—Sweet Bianca !—Happy man be his dole!** He that runs fastest gets the ring.» How say you, Signior Gremio ? Gre. I am agreed: and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her,** wed her, and rid the house of her! Come on. [Ezeunt Gremio and Hortensio. Tra. [Advancing.] I pray, sir, tell me,—is it possible That love should of a sudden take such hold? Luc. Oh, Tranio, till I found it to be true, T never thought it possible or likely ; But see! while idly I stood looking on, I found the effect of love in idleness : And now in plainness do confess to thee,— That art to me as secret and as dear As Anna*’ to the Queen of Carthage was,— _ Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, If I achieve not this young modest girl. (31) Parle. A form of ‘parley.’ See Note 13, Act i., “Twe Gentlemen of Verona.” (32) Upon advice. Upon reflection; upon deliberation; upon farther consideration. (33) It toucheth us both. It concerns us both; it is of importance to us both. (34) Happy man be his dole! “ Dole”’ is a portion, that which is dealt out; therefore the saying means, ‘May happiness be his lot!’ See Note 37, Act iii., “ Merry Wives of Windsor.” (35) He that runs fastest gets the ring. An allusion to running matches, where a “ring” was the prize; and also to the wedding ring, which husbands as well as wives formerly wore. (36) Woo her. “ Her,” of course, here refers to Katharine, though Bianca was last mentioned ; affording an instance of Shakespeare’s using a pronoun relatively to an antecedent not immediately named before. (37) Anna. Sister to Dido, and her confidant when the latter was in love with Aineas. See Note 7, Act ii., “Tempest.” Anna is mentioned in Book IV. of Dryden’s translation of Virgil’s Aineid. (38) Rated. Used here for ‘driven out by scolding,’ ‘ expelled by reproof.’ (39) Redime te captwm quam queas minimo. ‘Redeem thyself, oh, captive, for the least sum thou canst.’ A line quoted from Terence in Lily’s grammar; and as it is printed in the Folio as it is given by Lily, they who disparage Shakespeare’s THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. Act T.] Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now 3 Affection is not rated** from the heart : If love have touch’d you, naught remains but so,— Redime te captum quam queas minimo.*® Inc. Gramercies, lad; go forward; this con- tents : The rest will comfort, for thy counsel’s sound. Tra. Master, you look’d so longly* on the maid, Perhaps you mark’d not what’s the pith of all. Inc. Oh, yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, Such as the daughter of Agenor* had, That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, When with his knees he kiss’d the Cretan strand. Tra. Saw you no more? mark’d you not how her sister Began to scold, and raise up such a storm, That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ? Ine. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move ; And with her breath she did perfume the air: Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. Tra. Nay, then, ’tis time to stir him from his trance.— I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid, Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. stands :— Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,” That, till the father rid his hands of her, Master, your love must live a maid at home ; And therefore has he closely mew’d her up, Because she will not be annoy’d with suitors. Tue. Ah! Tranio, what a cruel father’s he! But art thou not advis’d,*! he took some care To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?” Thus it Tra. Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now ’tis plotted. Luc. I have it, Tranio. Tra. Master, for my hand, Both our inventions meet and jump* in one. Lue. Tell me thine first. Tra. You will be schoolmaster, And undertake the teaching of the maid : That’s your device. Tue. It is: may it be done? Tra. Not possible; for who shall bear your part, learning affirm that the English poet derived the line from the grammarian’s pages, and not from the Latin original. (40) Longly. Used for ‘longingly,’ with the effect of ‘intently,’ “perseveringly,’ ‘exclusively,’ combinedly conveyed. (41) The daughter of Agenor. Europa, of whom Jupiter was ena- moured. In order to attract her notice, the god transformed himself into a magnificent bull, kneeling gently beside her, that she might seat herself upon his back; and when she did so, carried her off from her companion nymphs. (42) So curst and shrewd. ‘So cross-tempered, shrewish, and ill- conditioned.’ The analogy between “ curst,’’ “shrewd,” “‘shrewish,” &e. (pointed out in Note 24, Act ii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona’’), is here made manifest. (43) Because she will not be annoyed, fe. “ Will,” here, has been changed by some editors to ‘shall.’ But the passage, as it stands, seems to mean, ‘ Because then she will not be annoyed by suitors.’ (44) Art thou not advis’d. Used for ‘Did you not observe,’ ‘ did you not remark.’ (45) To get her cunning schoolmasters, fc. The construction of this passage is the same as the one pointed out in Note 33, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.” Here “her” is used for ‘for her.’ “ Cun- fae was frequently used for ‘skilful.’ See Note 25 of this ct. : (46) Jump. Shakespeare sometimes uses this word for ‘ agree,’ ‘accord,’ ‘comform,’ See Note 108, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.” Screnr II.] And be in Padua here Vincentio’s son ; Keep house, and ply his book; welcome his friends ; Visit his countrymen, and banquet them ? Luc. Basta ;*7 content thee; for I have it full.‘ We have not yet been seen in any house ; Nor can we be distinguish’d by our faces For man or master: then it follows thus ;— Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, Keep house, and port,*® and servants, as I should: I will some other be; some Florentine, Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.” Tis hatched, and shall be so:—Tranio, at once Uncase®! thee; take my colour’d hat and cloak: When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.” Tra. So had you need. [They exchange habits. In brief, sir, sith®! it your pleasure is, And I am tied to be obedient (For so your father charg’d me at our parting,— “‘ Be serviceable to my son,” quoth he, Although I think ’twas in another sense), I am content to be Lucentio, Because so well I love Lucentio. Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves : And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thrall’d my wounded eye.— Here atts the rogue. Enter BIonDELLO. Sirrah, where have you been ? Bion. Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes ? Or you stolen his? or both? pray, what’s the news ? Ime. Sirrah, come hither: ’tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time. Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, Put my apparel and my countenance on, And I for my escape have put on his; For in a quarrel, since I came ashore, I kill’d a man, and fear I was descried: Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, While I make way from hence to save my life: You understand me ? Bion. I, sir ? ne’er a whit. Ine. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: Tranio is chang’d into Lucentio. (47) Basta. Italian; enough, sufficient. (48) Ihaweit full. ‘I haveit (the “ device”) completely.’ entirely - sketched out in my mind. Shakespeare uses ‘‘full’’ (adjectively) in this sense. See Note 8, Act iii, “As You Like It.” In the pre- sent passage he uses the word adverbially. (49) Port. State, befitting appearance; style of living appro- priate to the speaker’s rank. See Note 22, Act i. “ Merchant of Venice.” (50) Or meaner man of Pisa. Some editors alter “ meaner’’ to “mean;’ but Lucentio intends to say, ‘some man of Pisa (the speaker’s native place) lower in rank than I am.’ (51) Uncase. Shakespeare uses this word for taking off the outer garments. In “ Love’s Labour’s Lost”’ (vy. 2), Moth says, “Do you not see, Pompey is unceasing for the combat ?”’ (52) My colour’d hat and cloak. In Shakespeare’s time the ser- vants wore soberer-tinted clothes than their masters, the young gallants, who flaunted about in garments of bright and varied hues, that might well, by contrast, be emphatically called “ coloured.” (53) Charm him first to keep his tongue. ‘Bind him over, as by a spell, to keep his tongue within bounds;’ or, in modern parlance, ‘to hold his tongue.’ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 483 Bion. The better for him: would I were so too ! Tra. So would I, faith, boy, to have the next wish efter, That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest daughter. But, sirrah,—not for my sake, but your master’s,—I advise You use your manners discreetly in all kinds of companies : When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio ; But in all places else, your master Lucentio. Ine. Tranio, let’s go:— One thing more rests, that thyself execute,— To make one among these wooers: if thou ask me why,— Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty. | Hxeunt.*? First Serv. the play. Sly. Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely : comes there any more of it ? Page. My lord, ’tis but begun. Sly. °Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady : would ’twere done ! My lord, you nod; you do not mind SCENE I1.—Papva. Enter Perrucuio™®® and Grumtio. Before Hortensto’s house. Pet. Verona, for awhile I take my leave, To see my friends in Padua; but, of all, My best belovéd and approved friend, Hortensio; and I trow’® this is his house. Here, sirrah Grumio ; knock, I say. Gru. Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there any man has rebused®? your worship ? Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.© Gru. Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir? Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate, And rap me well, or Vll knock your knave’s pate. Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome.—I should knock you first, And then I know after, who comes by the worst. Pet. Will it not be? (54) Sith. An old form of ‘ since.’’ . (55) Exeunt. In the Folio, after this word, there is a stage direc- tion—“ The Presenters above speak;” meaning the actors in the Induction, who occupied the balcony at the back of the stage. See Note 36, Induction. : ; “ (56) Petruchio. This is the way in which the name is spelt in the Folio; and, judging by other anglicised spellings of foreign names therein, it is probably the means by which Shakespeare indicated to the actors the way in which those foreign names should be pro- nounced. Some editors have altered the orthography to ‘ Petrucio ;’ but if their intention be to give it as an Italian name, it should be spelt ‘ Petruccio.’ (57) Approved. In the sense of ‘ proved,’ ‘ tested.’ (58) Trow. ‘Think,’ ‘believe.’ (59) Rebused. Grumio’s blunder for ‘abused.’ (60) Knock mehere soundly. The present passage affords a notable instance of the idiomatic form of phrase pointed out in Note 33, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice,” as it gives occasion for a play upon the word. “Knock me” is used by Petruchio according to the con- structional idiom, in the sense of ‘Knock for me;’ but Grumio, after his clown-jester fashion, chooses to take it in the more usual 484 Faith, sirral., an you'll not knock, I'll wring it: PU try how you can sol, fa,®! and sing it. [He wrings Grumto by the ears. Gru. Help, masters, help! my master is mad. Pet. Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain ! Enter Hortensto. Hor. How now! what’s the matter ?—My old friend Grumio! and my good friend Petruchio !— How do you all at Verona ? Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray ? Con tutto il core ben trovato,® may I say. Hor. Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor mio Petruchio.°— Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound this quarrel. Gru. Nay, *tis no matter, sir, what he ’leges in Latin.“—If this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service,—look you, sir,—he bid me knock him and rap him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to use his master so; being, perhaps (for aught I see), two-and-thirty,—a pip out ?® Whom would to Heaven I had well knock’d at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst. Pet. A senseless villain !—Good Hortensio, I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it. Gru. Knock at the gate !—Oh, heavens! Spake you not these words plain,— Sirrah, knock me here, Rap me here, knock me well, and knock me soundly ? ” And come you now with—knocking at the gate ? Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. Hor. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio’s pledge : Why, this’ a heavy chance ’twixt him and you, Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale Blows you to Padua here, from old Verona ? sense of the phrase. Another instanze of this form of construction occurs in the first scene of the Induction, where the lord says— “ Procure me music ready when he wakes.” (61) Sol, fa. The Italian names for the notes g and f in music. The Italian nomenclature in notation is generally adopted; and a musical term (as a verb) is made from the words “sol, fa,’ meaning to sing a scale, to practise the gamut with the voice. (62) Con tutto il core ben trovato. ‘ With all my heart, well found, or well met.’ (63) Alla nostra casa ben venuto, &c. much honoured Signor Petruchio.’ (64) What he ’leges in Latin. ‘ What he allegesin Latin.’ There is also a kind of pun on the word “’leg2s”’ (asa part of the Latin word lex, law), and in its similarity to ‘legal.’ ‘The characters, of course, speaking English throughout the play, this casual introduction of a few words of Italian gives the effect of the two gentlemen talking in a foreign language, which the obtuse Grumio takes to be *Latin.”’ (65) A pip out. “ Pip” was the name for the spot or mark ona card, which determines the suit and value. “ Two-and-thirty ” is an allusion to an old game called ‘ Bone-ace, or one-and-thirty.’ When there was one number more than the one that made the game, it was called being “a pip out.” In Motteux’s edition of “ Don Quixote,” 1733, Sancho says to the ancient Duenna, “ If sixty is the game, you’re a pip out.” ‘And it is observable that not only in this edition of “ Don Quixote,” but also in Shelton’s (1675), the word is printed “ peep;” while in the 1623 Folio Shakespeare it is spelt “ peepe.” ’ (66) This’ a heavy chance, 4c. ‘This is a heavy chance betwixt him and you.’ For a similar construction see Note 16, Act v., “Measure for Measure.” (67) In a few. For ‘in a few words;’ ‘in short,’ ‘briefly.’ - “In few” is similarly used by Shakespeare. See Note 29, Act i., “Tempest.’’ “Welcome to our house, my THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. fAcr I. Pet. Such wind as scatters young men through the world, To seek their fortunes farther than at home, Where small experience grows. But, in a few, Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me :— Antonio, my father, is deceas’d ; And I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may: Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, And so am come abroad to see the world. Hor. Petruchio, shall I, then, come roundly to thee,®* And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour’d wife 2 Thow’dst thank me but a little for my counsel: And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich, And very rich :—but thou’rt too much my friend, And I'll not wish thee to her. Pet. Signior Hortensio, ’twixt such friends as we, Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know One rich enough to be Petruchio’s wife (As wealth is burden of my wooing dance), Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love,” As old as Sibyl,” and as curst and shrewd” As Socrates’ Xantippe,® or a worse, She moves me not, or not removes, at least, Aflection’s edge in me,—were she as rough As are the swelling Adriatic seas : I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; If wealthily, then happily in Padua. Gru. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is: why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby;7 or an old trot with ne’er a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases as two and fifty horses;7 why, nothing comes amiss, SO money comes withal. Hor, Petruchio, since we are stepp’d thus far in, I will continue that I broach’d in jest. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough, and young, and beauteous ; Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman : (68) Come roundly to thee. Now-a-days, “To come roundly to a point” gives the effect of taking a roundabout course, a gradual course; but formerly, “to come roundly” to a point meant to come at once to it, to take a direct course. Im “As You Like It’? (v. 3), the Pages, asking Touchstone if they shall begin their song at once, say— Shall we clap into’t roundly, without hawking or spitting, or saying we are hoarse ?”’ (69) Wish thee to a shrewd ill-favoured wife? To “wish”? was used for to ‘recommend.’ (See Note 30 of this Act.) “ Shrewd”’ here means ‘shrewish,’ sharp-spoken; and “ ill-fayoured” here means ‘ill-conditioned,’ ‘ ill-tempered.’ (70) Florentius’ love. An allusion to a story in Gower’s “ Confessio Amantis,’’ where a knight named Florent engages to marry a-1ideous old woman, in return for her teaching him to solve an enigma, on the solution of which his life depends. Chaucer, in his ‘‘ Wife of Bath’s Tale,” has taken the same plot; and it has also been adopted by other writers. See Note 51, Act i, “Merchant of (71) As old as Sibyl. Venice.” (72) Curst and shrewd. See Note 42 of this Act. (73) Xantippe. Wife to Socrates, and proverbial for her scolding tongue. On one occasion, when she had railed her utmost, she emptied a vessel of dirty water on her husband’s head; whereupon the philosopher jestingly remarked, that ‘after thunder there generally comes rain.’ (74) Aglet-baby. An “aglet’’ was the tag of a point, used for fastening the lower portion of the dress to the upper part; and also a jewel, or brooch, worn in the cap; French, aiguiilette. These tags were sometimes made in the form of a small figure; and the cap ornament likewise occasionally bore the same shape. See Note 11, Act iii., “ Much Ado.” (75) As many diseases as two and fifty horses. The manifold diseases to which horses are subject were almost proverbial; and Grumio gives his own peculiar version of the saying. We find an es od 2 d ee OD m 2 oO 2 $5 Om .%0 gso~N oct _ oO A n 4 = Sirrah, come hither: And therefore frame your manners to the time. NY 7d V A Lucentio. Scene IT.] Her only fault (and that is faults enough) Is,—that she is intolerable” curst, And shrewd, and froward; so beyond all measure, That, were my state far worser than it is, I would not wed her for a mine of gold. Pet. Hortensio, peace! thou know’st not gold’s effect :— Tell me her father’s name, and ’tis enough; For I will board her, though she chide as loud As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack. Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola, An affable and courteous gentleman : Her name is Katharina Minola, - Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue. Pet. I know her father, though I know not her; And he knew my deceaséd father well. I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; And therefore let me be thus bold with you, To give you over at this first encounter,” Unless you will accompany me thither. Gru. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O’ my word, and she knew him as well as I do, she would think scolding would do little good upon him: she may, perhaps, call him half a score knaves, or so: why, that’s nothing; an he begin once, he’ll rail in his rope-tricks.”* Tl tell you what, sir, —an she stand” him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure her with it, that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat.*° You know him not, sir. Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee ; For in Baptista’s keep*! my treasure is : He hath the jewel of my life in hold,” His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca ; And her withholds from me, and other more,** Suitors to her and rivals in my love ; Supposing it a thing impossible (For those defects I have before rehears’d) That ever Katharina will be woo’d ; Therefore this order hath Baptista ta’en,™4 That none shall have access unto Bianca, Till Katharine the curst have got a husband. Gru. Katharine the curst! A title for a maid, of all titles the worst. Hor. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace ; And offer me, disguis’d in sober robes,** enumeration of several of these diseases in Act iii., sc. 2, of the present play. (76) Intolerable. Intolerably. An adjective used for an adverb was a grammatical licence of Shakespeare’s time. See Note 11, Act v., ‘As You Like It.” (77) Give you over at this first encounter. ‘Leave you so soon on our first meeting again.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses “ give over’’ and “give o’er”’ in the sense of ‘yield,’ ‘ relinquish,’ ‘leave,’ ‘ for- sake,’ ‘ abandon.’ (78) Rope-tricks. Tricks of abusive language; the kind of offen- sively abusive rhetoric which it was the fashion to teach to parrots. See Note 45, Act iv., “Comedy of Errors.’’ That Grumio uses the word in its reference (and slight similarity) to ‘ rhetoric,’ is obvious, from the punningly-introduced expression, “ figure,’ immediately afterwards. (79) Stand. Used for ‘withstand ;’ make show of resistance. (80) No more eyes to see withal than a cat. Master Grumio’s simile is no better than his play upon the words ‘ Kate’ and “ cat’ here. He mixes up the implied idea of a scratched face with the eyes of the animal that scratches. ; (81) Keep. Keeping, custody. (82) In hold. ‘In possession.’ (83) Other mere. ‘Others beside myself.’ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 487 To old Baptista as a schoolmaster Well seen* in music, to instruct Bianca; That so I may, by this device, at least Have leave and leisure to make love to her, And unsuspected court her by herself. Gru. _[Aside.] Here’s no knavery!* See, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together ! Enter Gremio; and Lucentio disguised, with books under his arm. Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha? Hor. Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love.— Petruchio, stand by awhile. Gru. - : ie « f : ’ . es ; b y . , i i : Fi ' ' f } sy Miwvew Sceng I[.] Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for ou. Kaih. Yet you are wither’d. Pet. *Tis with cares. Kath. I care not. Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you ’scape not so. Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. Pet. No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle. *T was told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen, And now I find report a very liar ; For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing cour- teous ; But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers: Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ; Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ; But thou with mildness entertain’st thy wooers, With gentle conference, soft and affable. Why does the world report that Kate doth limp ? Oh, slanderous world! Kate, like the hazel-twig, Ts straight and slender; and as brown in hue As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. Oh! let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep’st, com- mand. Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove, As Kate this chamber with her princely gait ? Oh, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate ; And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful! Kath. Where did you study all this goodly speech ? Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son. Pet. Am I not wise? Kath. Yes; keep you warm.” Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed: And therefore, setting all this chat aside, Thus in plain terms :—your father hath consented That you shall be my wife; your dowry ’greed 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*> to a Kate Conformable, as other household Kates. Here comes your father: never make denial; I must and will have Katharine to my wife. (26) Keep you warm. There seems to have been a proverb—‘ If ou are wise, keep yourself warm;” and Shakespeare alludes to it ere, and also in “ Much Ado about Nothing” (i. 1)—‘‘ If he have wit enough to keep himself warm.” There is analogy between this proverb and the one explained in Note 8, Induction. (27) Nill. Derived from ne will; Saxon, nillan, not to will, to refuse. This was an old English form, and is freqnently found in Chaucer; as, also, ‘nas,’ for ne was, or was not; ‘nam,’ for ne am, or am not, &e. (28) A wild Kate. There is the same quibble on the words “ Kate”’ and ‘ cat’ here as was pointed out in Note 80, Act i. (29) Grissel. Griselda, the heroine of Chaucer’s “ Clerk’s Tale;”’ he haying had the story from Petrarch, who related it from Boc- caccio’s ‘* Decameron,’’ where it forms the tenth novel of the tenth day. There is a still earlier version of the story among the old French Fabliaua. (30) Vied. Proffered in competition. To “vie” and “revie” THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 4.95 Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and TRanto. Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter ? Pet. How but well, sir? how but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss. Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine! in your dumps ? Kath. Call you me daughter? now, I promise ou, You have show’d a tender fatherly regard, To wish me wed to one half lunatic; A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack, That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. Pet. Father, ’tis thus:—yourself and all the world, That talk’d of her, have talk’d amiss of her : If she be curst, it is for policy, For she’s not froward, but modest as the dove ; She is not hot, but temperate as the morn ; For patience she will prove a second Grissel,” And Roman Lucrece for her chastity : And to conclude,—we have ’greed so well together, That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. Kath. TVll see thee hang’d on Sunday first. Gre. Hark, Petruchio; she says, she’ll see thee hang’d first. Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part! Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself : If she and I be pleas’d, what’s that to you? *Tis bargain’d *twixt us twain, being alone, That she shall still be curst in company. I tell you, *tis incredible to believe How much she loves me: oh, the kindest Kate !— She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss She vied* so fast, protesting oath on oath, That in a twink she won me to her love. Oh, you are novices! *tis a world to see,*! How tame, when men and women are alone, A meacock® wretch can make the curstest shrew.— Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,* To buy apparel ’gainst the wedding-day.— Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ; I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine. Bap. I know not what to say: but give me your hands; God send you joy, Petruchio! *tis a match. Gre. : ‘ rae} Amen, say we: we will be witnesses. were terms used in the game of Primero, fashionable when Shakespeare wrote. To “vie’’ at cards was to stake or wager the goodness of one hand against another; and the word came to be applied to competing in the production of one thing against another. Petruchio means to say, that as often as he kissed her, she kissed him. (81) ?Tis a world to see. Meaning ‘it is wonderful to see.’ See Note 73, Act iii., “ Much Ado about Nothing.’’ (32) Meacock. Timorous, too-yielding ; probably from meekcock, and generally applied to a hen-pecked husband. (33) I will unto Venice. Not only was Venice the great mart for rich articles in Shakespeare’s time, but it is still famous for its gold chains, and other articles of delicately-worked jewellery, which are displayed in profusion in the shop-windows under the arcades that surround the Piazza di San Marco. There is peculiar appropriate- ness, therefore, in making Petruchio repair to Venice to provide himself with wedding finery. 496 Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu ; I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace :— We will have rings, and things, and fine array; And, kiss me, Kate, we will be married 0’ Sunday. [ Kxeunt Prrrucuio and KarHarina severally, Gre. Was ever match clapp’d up so suddenly ? THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. {Acti Gre. Youngling,®® thou canst not love so dear as I. Tra. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze. Gre. But thine doth fry. : Skipper,*” stand back: ’tis age that nourisheth. Tra. But youth in ladies’ eyes that flourisheth. al} Ni vi! ff Alynt ‘hl Hh UNAS Bianca. Lucentio. Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s part, And venture madly on a desperate mart.*4 Tra, "Twas a commodity® lay fretting by you: "Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. Bap. The gain I seek is quiet in the match. Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter : Now is the day we long have lookéd for: I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. Tra. And I am one that love Bianca more Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess. (34) Mart. Here used for ‘ bargain.’ (35) “Twas a commodity, Twice in this speech ’T, or it, is used in reference to an implied particular ; by Tranio, in the coarse way, of which the father himself has set an example, when speaking of Katharine, meaning a marriageable or saleable daughter. Where left we last? Here, madam. Act ITI. Scene TI. Bap. Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife : ‘Tis deeds must win the prize; and he, of both, That can assure my daughter greatest dower Shall have my Bianca’s love.— Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her? Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city Is richly furnishéd with plate and gold ; Basons and ewers, to lave her dainty hands; My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry ; In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns; (36) Youngling. A word used by Shakespeare, compounded of ‘youngster’ and ‘stripling.’ German, jingling. (37) Skipper. This word seems to be here used by Shakespeare with allusion to the nimbleness and forwardness of youth, and to the frivolity and lightness which he implies in the word “ skipping.” See Note 48, Act ii., “ Merchant of Venice.’ Scene I.] In cypress chests ** my arras, counterpoints,” Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,” Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss’d with pearl, Valance of Venice gold in needlework ; Pewter! and brass, and all things that belong To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, And all things answerable to this portion. Myself am struck in years, I must confess ; And if I die to-morrow, this is hers, If whilst I live she will be only mine. Tra. That “only” came well in.—Sir, list to me: Tam my father’s heir and only son : If I may have your daughter to my- wife, [ll leave her houses three or four as good, Within rich Pisa walls, as any one Old Signior Gremio has in Padua ; Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.— What! have I pinch’d you, Signior Gremio ? Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land! My land amounts not to so much* in all: That she shall have; besides an argosy That now is lying in Marseilles’ * road.— What! have I chok’d you with an argosy ?# Tra. Gremio, ’tis known my father hath no less Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses,* And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her, And twice as much, whate’er thou offer’st next. Gre. Nay, I have offer’d all,—I have no more ; (38) In cypress chests. To this very day, chests made of cypress wood are used in Italian households for storing woollen goods during the summer season, because the scent of the wood is very effectual in keeping away moths. The Italians have still the habit of retaining much of their property in the shape of valuables, such as are enumerated in the text. The old family mansions and palaces of Genoa (as in other Italian localities) abound in hoards and hoarding-places like those mentioned in this passage by Shake- speare; which circumstance has given rise to the belief that he himself at one time must have visited Italy, and have been an actual eye-witness of particulars he has so accurately described. Nevertheless, when we bear in mind his wonderful memory, his wonderful tact in acquiring knowledge from various persons practi- cally acquainted with the subjects he treated, and his wonderful power of making his own and employing such acquired knowledge, we can well imagine that from his Italian friend, Florio, or from his travelled English friends, he may have gained all the details here introduced with so graphic and appropriate a vividness. (39) Counterpoints. Coverings for beds; now (and likewise for- merly) called ‘counterpanes,’ they being formed of patchwork, in ‘panes’ or points of variously contrasted colours. They were, in ancient times, expensive articles; Stowe, the chronicler, recording that during Wat Tyler’s rebellion a coverlet was destroyed worth a thousand marks. (40) Tents and canopies. ‘Tents’ were hangings; possibly so called from the tenters, or hooks, upon which they were stretched and suspended. ‘Tents’? may, however, here mean the large sun- shades (Italian, tenda, a tent or curtain) which are used in Italy, spread over terraces, garden windows, and door-ways, to keep off the southern glare and heat. ‘ Canopies,’ also, may bear one of the THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 497 And she can have no more than all I have :— If you like me, she shall have me and mine. Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied." Bap. I must confess your offer is the best ; And, let your father make her the assurance, She is your own; else, you must pardon me: If you should die before him, where’s her dower ? Tra. 'That’s but a cavil: he is old, I young. ( Gre. aot may not young men die, as well as old? Bap. Well, gentlemen, I am thus resolv’d :—on Sunday next you know My daughter Katharine is to be married : Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca Be bride to you, if you make this assurance ; If not, to Signior Gremio : And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. [Heit Baprista. Now I fear thee not: Sirrah young gamester,” your father were a fool To give thee all, and in his waning age Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [ Exit. Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither’d hide! Yet I have fac’d it with a card of ten.* Tis in my head to do my master good— I see no reason but suppos’d Lucentio Must get a father, call’'d—suppos’d Vincentio ; And that’s a wonder: fathers commonly Do get their children; but in this case of wooing, A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. [ Hait. interpretations which Baret gives—‘a canopy properly that hangeth aboute beddes to keep away gnattes, sometimes a tent or pavilion, some have used it for a testorne [or tester] to hang over a bed.’ (41) Pewter. Vessels and utensils of pewter were formerly so valuable, as sometimes to be hired by the year in the households of the nobility. (42) My land amounts not to so much. Tt has been plausibly pro- posed to change “not” to ‘but’ in this passage. Nevertheless, Gremio may mean to say that though his land does not amount to the sum offered by his rival, yet, such as it is, Bianca shall have it all, “ besides an argosy,” &c. (43) Marseilles’. This must here be sounded as a trisyllable. It is printed ‘ Marcellus’ in the Folio. (44) Chok’d you with an argosy? “ Argosy’ large vessel, either for war or merchandise. “Merchant of Venice.” (45) Galliasses. A“ galiass’’ (Italian, galeazza) was a heavily-built galley with three masts, and seats for thirty-two rowers ; so that 1t could be propelled by sails or oars, or both. (46) Out-vied. To“ out-vie” was a gaming term, as was to “vie.” See Note 30 of this Act. (47) Gamester. Gremio uses this term half in allusion to Tranio’s having staked offers against him (“out-vied’’ him), half in the way that Shakespeare occasionally employs the word to express a lively, forward, venturesome fellow. See Note 21, Acti., “As You Like It.” (48) Fac’d it with a card of ten. This was a proverbial expression for bullying, or maintaining a point with an impudent face. It was derived from a gaming term, indicating a bold stand made by playing “a card of ten,” or one of the highest in the pack. > was the name of a See Note iv., Act 1., 63—VOL. 1, 498 aa Cad. SCENE I.—Papva. A room in Baprisra’s house. Enter Lucentio, Horrensio, and Branca. Ie. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, pire Have you so soon forgot the entertainment Her sister Katharine welcom’d you withal ? Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is The patroness of heavenly harmony : Then give me leave to have prerogative ; And when in music we have spent an hour, Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. Iie. Preposterous! ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordain’d ! Was it not to refresh the mind of man After his studies or his usual pain ? Then give me leave to read philosophy, And while I pause, serve in your harmony. Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. ~ Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, To strive for that which resteth in my choice: I am no birching scholar in the schools ; Pll not be tied to hours nor ’pointed times, But learn my lessons as I please myself. And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down :— Take you your instrument, play you the whiles ; His lecture will be done ere you have tun’d. Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? [Horvensto retires. Inc. That will be never :—tune your instru- ment. Bian. Where left we last 2 Luc. Here, madam :—~— Hac ibat Simois ; hic est Sigeia tellus ; Hie steterat Priami regia celsa senis.2 Bian. Construe them. Ine. Hae tbat, as I told you before,?—Simois, I am Lucentio,—hie est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa. Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love;—Hic (1) Preposterous. Shakespeare here and elsewhere uses this word more in consonance with its strictly derived signification than as we now use it. He employs it to express ‘not according to correct order,’ ‘ out of right succession,’ ‘ misplaced,’ ‘in inverted position,’ ‘ contrary to due course;’ Latin, preposterus. See Note 45, Act iii., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (2) Celsa senis. These two lines are from Ovid’s Epistle of * Penelope to Ulysses :”— “This Simois, that the Sigeian land, And there did Priam’s lofty palace stand.’ Rhymer’s Translation. (3) As I told you before. Other writers of Shakespeare’s time introduced the joke of translating Latin sentences into English with an entirely different meaning from the original. (4) Pantaloon. A name given to a pottering old man. See Note 89, Act ii., “ As You Like It.”’ (5) Let me see if I can construe it. Here we see Bianca in her true colours. No sooner is she out of sight of her father, than she drops the coating of demure paint which she wears in public to obtain the reputation of “ beauteous modesty,” and in private behaves like the imperious coquette, which she truly is. She begins by telling her masters that she will “learn my lessons as I please myself ;”’ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. [Acr ITI. Digh steterat, and that Lucentio that -comes a-wooing,— Priami, is my man Tranio,—regia, bearing my port, —celsa senis, that we might beguile the old panta- loon.* :' Hor, [Coming forward.] Madam,myinstrument’s in tune. Bian. Let’s hear.— [Horrensto plays. Oh, fie! the treble jars. Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. [ Horrenszo again retires. Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it :> Hae ebat Simois, I know you not,—hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not;—Hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not,—regia, presume not,—celsa senis, despair not. Hor. [Again coming forward.] Madam, ’tis now in tune. Ine. All but the base. Hor. The base is right; ’tis the base knaye that jars. : How fiery and forward our pedant is! Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: Pedascule,’ V1 watch you better yet. [ Aside, Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, Macides Was Ajax,’—call’d so from his grandfather. Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise you, I should be arguing still upon that doubt :8 But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you :— Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both. Hor. [To Lvcrntro.] You may go walk, and give me leave awhile : My lessons make no music in three parts. Lue, Are you so formal, sir? [Aside.] Well, I must wait, And watch withal ; for, but I be deceiv’d,? Our fine musician groweth amorous. Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument, To learn the order of my fingering, orders one aside while she listens to the other; and no sooner discovers that he is not a teacher, but a lover in disguise, than she falls into his plan of addressing her clandestinely, follows his lead of making the lesson a pretence for discussing his suit, and shows herself to be a thoroughly sly, artful girl. Shakespeare has drawn we consistently throughout. See Note 20, Act i.; and Note 2, ct ii. , (6) Pedaseule. Said to bea word coined by Shakespeare, from “pedant.” The Folio here assigns the various speeches to the different speakers in an obviously blundering way. (7) Mavides was Ajax. This is said by Lucentio as if it were part of the lesson he is giving, in order to mislead Hortensio, should he overhear him. Ajax was sometimes named Macides, in accordance with a custom explained in Note 11, Act u., “Merchant of Venice;” Ajax, like Achilles, being grandson to Hlacus. (8) That doubt. Bianca says this in order that Hortensio may take it as applying to the question as to whether Ajax were rightly called Aacides, and that Lucentio may take it as referring to his profession of love. She is a proficient in quibbling speech, as she also has the coquettish art of saying a word of ingratiatory deprecation to each of her suitors, so that she may keep both of them dangling at once. (9) But I be deceiv’d. “But’’ is here used in the sense of ‘unless.’ oe a aa mene nner neeeorees en et ene ee Scene IT.] T must begin with rudiments of art ; To teach you gamut” in a briefer sort, More pleasant, pithy, and effectual, Than hath been taught by any of my trade: And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. Bian. (Reads. } Gamut I am, the ground of all accord, A re, to plead Hortensio’s passion, B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord, C fa ut, that loves with all affection : D sol re, one cliff,"! two notes have I: E la mi, show pity, or I die. Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not: Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice,” To change true rules for odd inventions.¥ Enter a Servant. Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books, And help to dress your sister’s chamber up: You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must be gone. [Exeunt Branca and Servant. Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [ Katt. Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant : Methinks he looks as though he were in love. Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble, To cast thy wand’ring eyes on every stale,'* Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [ Kart. SCENE II.—Papva. Enter Baptista, GREMIO, TRANIO, KaTHARiINA, BIANCA, Lucentio, and Attendants. Before Baprista’s house. Bap. [To Tranto.] Signior Lucentio, this is the *pointed day That Katharine and Petruchio should be married, And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. What will be said ? what mockery will it be, To want the bridegroom when the priest attends To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage ! What says Lucentio to this shame of vurs? (10) Gamut. The scale of musical notes. The gamut is in musical notation what the alphabet is in letters and language. (11) Clif. The mark placed on the lines of music (or stave) at the commencement of a piece, indicating what pitch, or portion of the gamut is thus appropriated: whether bass (on the F line), tenor (on the C line), or treble (on the G line). (12) Nice. Shakespeare uses this word with divers meanings. He employs it (as Chaucer does) for ‘silly,’ ‘unwise;’ for ‘trivial;’ for ‘precise,’ ‘punctilious,’ ‘ceremonious;’ and for ‘ particular,’ ‘fastidious.’ Here it seems to bear a mingled meaning—‘ foolishly particular,’ ‘sillily fastidious.’ (13) To change true rules for odd inventions. The first Folio mis- prints ‘charge’ for “ change” (the word in the second Folio), and ‘old’ for “odd” (Theobald’s correction). (14) Stale. The word is here used in combined reference to its meaning of ‘decoy,’ ‘lure,’ or ‘bait’ (see Note 24, Act iv., “Tempest’’); and to its meaning of ‘common,’ ‘ worthless.’ See Note 50, Act ii., ‘* Much Ado about Nothing.”’ (15) Rudesby, full of spleen. Shakespeare uses the expressive term, “rudesby,” again in “‘ Twelfth Night,” Act iv., sc. 1, to convey the idea of an ill-bred, overbearing fellow. ‘‘ Spleen” here means ‘caprice,’ ‘splenetic whimsiculity.’ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. A99 Kath. No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be fore’d To give my hand, oppos’d against my heart, Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen ; Who woo’d in haste, and means to wed at leisure. I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour : And, to be noted for a merry man, He’ll woo a thousand, *point the day of marriage, Make friends invited,’ and proclaim the banns ; Yet never means to wed where he hath woo’d. Now must the world point at poor Katharine, And say, “‘ Lo, there is mad Petruchio’s wife, If it would please him come and marry her! ” Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too. Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, Whatever fortune stays him from his word: Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ; Though he be merry, yet withal he’s honest. Kath. Would Katharine had never seen him, though ! [Hxit weeping, followed by Branca and others. Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep ; For such an injury would vex a very saint, Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. Enter BionpELLO. Bion. Master, master! old news,!’ and such news as you never heard of! Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that be? Bion. Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio’s coming ? Bap. Is he come? Bion. Why, no, sir. Bap. What then? Bion. He is coming. Bap. When will he be here ? Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees you there. Tra. But, say, what to thine old news? Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turned ; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases,"® one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta’en out of the town-armoury, with a broken hiit, and (16) Make friends invited. ‘Cause friends to be invited.’ The Folio prints ‘make friends invite;’ which has been variously altered to ‘make friends, invite, yes;’ ‘make friends, invite them,’ &c. But the present editors believe that a ‘d’ was omitted by the printer of the Folio; which, when restored to the text, gives not only sense to the passage, but makes it accord with Petruchio’s words to Baptista in Act il., sc. 1:—‘‘ Provide the feast, father, and bid the quests.’ Moreover, “make friends invited,” for “cause friends to be invited,’’ is in Shakespeare’s style; as he elsewhere has similar phraseology. It may be well to men- tion that this reading was given in the edition prepared by Mary Cowden Clarke for New York (published in 1860) during the years 1857-8-9. (17) Old news. The Folio omits “old;” by mistake, as is apparent from Baptista’s rejoinder. “Old” is here used in the sense of ‘ excessive,’ ‘outrageous.’ See Note 56, Act i., “Merry Wives of Windsor.” Presently after, Biondello turns it punningly (in reference to Petruchio’s ‘old jerkin,” ‘‘ old rusty sword,’ &c.) when Tranio asks what is his “ old news.” (18) Boots that have been candle-cases. Boots that have been used as recipients for candle-ends, and now are re-taken into use as riding-boots. 500 chapeless ;'° with two broken points:% his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle, and stirrups of no kindred ; besides, possessed with the glanders,”! and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed in the back, and shoulder-shotten ; ne’er legged before, and with a half-checked bit,” and a head-stall of sheep’s leather, which, being re- strained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst,” and now repaired with knots; one girth six times pieced, and a woman’s crupper of velure,2! which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with pack- thread. Bap. Who comes with him? Bion. Oh, sir, his lackey, for all the world capari- soned like the horse ; with a linen stock?> on one leg, and a kersey”’ boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list: an old hat and “The humour of forty fancies”’”” pricked in’t for a feather : a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman’s lackey. Tra. °Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion ; Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell’d.% Bap. Iam glad he’s come, howsoe’er he comes. Bion. Why, sir, he comes not. Bap. Didst thou not say he comes ? Bion. Who? that Petruchio came ? Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came. Bion. No, sir; I say his horse comes with him on his back. Bap. Why, that’s all one. (19) Chapeless. ‘Wanting its chape;’ or ‘without its chape.’ The “chape” of a sword or dagger was the hook by which the scabbard was attached to the belt. (20) With two broken points. Biondello, partly in his hurry of relation, partly in jocularity, brings in these “two broken points’? as if they were part of the description of the weapon ; and there- upon Johnson says, “ How a sword should have ‘ two broken points’ I cannot tell.”’ But the “points” were the tagged strings or laces by which the upper part of the dress was attached to the lower (see Note 74, Act i.); so that, as they were used for sustaining the latter, any fracture in them would have the most slovenly effect, as well as by possibility the awkward consequences alluded to by Prince Hal in “1 Henry IV.,” Act ii., sc. 4; and by Maria in “Twelfth Night,’’ Act i., se. 5. (21) Glanders. A disease to which horses are subject; of which a discharge from the nose is the peculiar symptom. “T'o mose in the chine,’ sometimes called ‘mourning in the chine,’ appears to have been an aggravated form of the same disorder. “The lampass” is a, disease in the mouth of horses or cattle, taking the form of an excrescence of flesh above the teeth. “‘ The fashions” is a corruption of ‘farcins,’ or ‘farcy ;’ a kind of leprosy in horses. ‘‘ Windgalls”’ are explained in the Farrier’s Dictionary to be ‘soft, yielding, flatulent humours or bladders, full of corrupt jelly, which grow upon each side of the fetlock joints.’ The same authority defines “spavins’’ to be ‘a bony exerescence, or crust as hard as a bone, that grows on the inside of the hough.’ “Raied” is ‘soiled in streaks ;’ French, rayé, striped or streaked. “The yellows’’ is a malady incident to horses, ‘when the gall-pipe is stopped up, and that matter which should be turned into gall is carried back into the blood, and tinctures it yellow, so that the eyes, inside of the lips, slaver, and all parts of the horse that are capable of showing the colour appear yellow.’ “The fives,’ sometimes called ‘ vives,’ is a distemper affecting the glands under the ears. “The staggers”’ is a kind of equine apoplexy. “The bots”’ are small worms in the entrails of horses. “Swayed in the back’”’ (misprinted ‘waid’ in the Folio), means ‘curved in the spine;’ and “shoulder-shotten ”’ is “strained in the shoulder.’ ‘“Ne’er legged before’’ is probably a similar idiom to the one used by jockeys, ‘having ne’er a fore-leg to stand on ;’ in other words, ‘foundered in his fore-feet.’ (22) A half-checked bit. This seems to mean a bit that but half THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. [Acr III. Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man Is more than one, And yet not many.” Enter Perrucuio and Grumtio. Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who’s at home ? Bap. You are welcome, sir. Pet. And yet I come not well. Bap. And yet you halt not. Tra. Not so well apparell’d As I wish you were. Pet. -Were it better, I should rush in thus. But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride ?— How does my father?—Gentles, methinks you frown : And wherefore gaze this goodly company, As if they saw some wondrous monument, Some comet or unusual prodigy ? - Bap. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding- day: First ee we sad, fearing you would not come: Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. Ne, doff this habit, shame to your estate.% An eye-sore to our solemn festival ! Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import Hath all so long detain’d you from your wife, And sent you hither so unlike yourself? Pet. ‘Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear: Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word, Though in some part enforced to digress ;3! Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse As you shall well be satisfied withal. does its duty of checking the horse; since the “ head-stall”’ (or portion of the bridle furniture which covers the head) is used as a restraint “to keep him from stumbling.” It is not unusual with Shakespeare to employ participles thus; “as “checked’”’ for ‘checking.’ (23) Burst. Used for ‘broken.’ See Note 5, Induction, se. 1. (24) Crupper of velure. The “crupper ”’ is that part of a horse’s furniture or harness which is between the saddle and the tail. “Velure”’ is ‘velvet.’ French, velours. (25) Stock. An old form of ‘stocking.’ See Note 21, Act Wig “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (26) Kersey. A coarse woollen stuff. Dutch, karsaye. See Note 101, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’ (27) “The humour of forty fancies.” Probably the title of a collection of ballads; fastened into Grumio’s hat by way of ornament. “Forty”? was often used to indicate an indefinite number; and “ fancies’’ were the names given to certain favourite songs, gay and fanciful. The fact that there is no indication in the printing of the Folio that this is a title, gives no evidence against its presumed interpretation; because in “Much Ado about Nothing ” (Act ii., sc. 1), “The Hundred Merry Tales”’ (which we know to be the title of a jest-book) is equally printed in the Folio in the same type as the context. (28) Oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell’d. This is one, among others, of those less evident but significant indications (alluded to in Note 1 of this play) that Petruchio is a man of penurious disposition and habits. ; ; (29) And yet not many. This is printed on in the Folio, undivided | into lines; but it seems like a scrap of a ballad—one of those doggrel jingles sounding like rhyme, and yet not rhyme. | : (30) Doff th® habit, shame to your estate. ‘Change this attire, a disgrace to your condition. “ Doff’’ is ‘do off,’ ‘put off;’ and “estate” is used as explained in Note 59, Act iii., “Merchant of Venice,” referring here to condition of life, state of means or income. (31) Though in some part enforced to digress. ‘Although from some portion of my promise I am compelled to deviate.’ Petruchio refers to his having said he will repair to “ Venice to buy apparel *gainst the wedding-day;”’ and “‘We will have rings, and things, and fine array.’ He means that to, disappoint Katharine of AEE TR HART I Oe TT HRT uli ie NIMH i mi Sey NAT Ta RAT AL Ss tnt | i y is nr iit i, | iy a RY SS | Lie i i | i NN xe es Mi c\ \ ht a AY oy KZ 1 \\\ A iN Tih na ih a [ARR \ A NAY \\ N ih | it i \\ A i a \ {} A AN Aw Ny Anil ith Ns | ‘ra j ty i aK H t Lo Ce tag De Petruchio. Grumio, Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves ; Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.— Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate: Vl buckler thee against a million. Act I1f. Scene I. ee ous ~ oP “ere ee —— ——— Scene IT.] But where is Kate? I stay too long from her: The morning wears, ’tis time we were at church. Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent® robes : Go to my chamber ; put on clothes of mine. Pet. NotI, believe me: thus I'll visit her. Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. Pet. Good sooth, even thus; therefore have done with words: To me she’s married, not unto my clothes : Could I repair what she will wear in me, As I can change these poor accoutrements, *Twere well for Kate, and better for myself. But what a fool am I to chat with you, When I should bid good morrow to my bride, And seal the title with a lovely kiss! [Exeunt Perrucuio and Grumio. “Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire: We will persuade him, be it possible, To put on better ere he go to church. ; Bap. Vl after him, and see the event of this. (Ezeunt Baprisra, GREMIO, and BIoNDELLO. Tra. But, sir, to love concerneth* us to add Her father’s liking: which to bring to pass, As I before imparted to your worship, I am to get a man,—whate’er he be, Tt skills not much,** we’ll fit him to our turn,— And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ; And make assurance, here in Padua, Of greater sums than I have promiséd. So shall you quietly enjoy your hope, And marry sweet Bianca with consent. Luc. Were it not that my fellow-schoolmaster Doth watch Bianca’s steps so narrowly, *T were good, methinks, to steal our marriage ; Which once perform’d, let all the world say no, Ill keep mine own, despite of all the world. Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into, And watch our vantage in this business : We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, The narrow-prying father, Minola, The quaint musician,” amorous Licio ; Ali for my master’s sake, Lucentio. Re-enter GREMIO. Signior Gremio,—came you from the church ? Gre. As willingly as e’er I came from school.” Tra. ‘And is the bride and bridegroom coming home ? promised finery is part of his taming-scheme; and that when eee, he shall explain this, they will all be well “ satisfied withal.” (32) Unreverent. Used here for ‘disrespectful.’ (33) But, sir, to love concerneth, Yc. The Folio prints ‘ But, sir, love concerneth, &c. Tyrwhitt added the “to.’ The phrase is elliptical; ‘it’ being understood before “ concerneth.” (34) It skills not much. ‘It signifies little,’ ‘it matters not much.’ _ This was an idiom used in Shakespeare’s time. (35) The quaint musician. “Quaint” here means ‘fine,’ ‘ dex- terous,’ ‘ accomplished ;’ and is, of course, used ironically by Tranio. (36) As willingly as eer I came from school. A proverbial saying, characteristically put into the mouth of Gremio, who, despite his age, seems to be an inveterate dunce. (37) By gogs-wouns. A coarsely grotesque form of a most solemn oath. (38) If any list. ‘If any one please.’ “‘ List ” is ‘like,’ ‘ desire,’ choose,’ ‘be disposed towards,’ ‘inclined to.’ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 503 Gre. A bridegroom say you? ’tis a groom in- deed, A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. Tra. Curster than she? why, ’tis impossible. Gre. Tut, she’s a lamb, a dove, a fool to him! I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest Should ask, if Katharine should be his wife, “ Ay, Py gogs-wouns,”*7 quoth he; and swore so oud, That, all amaz’d, the priest let fall the book ; And, as he stoop’d again to take it up, The mad-brain’d bridegroom took him such a cuff, That down fell priest and book, and book and priest: “Now take them up,” quoth he, “ if any list.” * Tra. What said the wench when he arose again? Gre. Trembled and shook ; for why* he stamp’d and swore, As if the vicar meant to cozen him. But after many ceremonies done, He calls for wine: “A health!” quoth he; as if He had been aboard, carousing to his mates After a storm: quaff’d off the muscadel,*! And threw the sops all in the sexton’s face ; Having no other reason But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, And seemed to ask him sops as he was drinking. This done, he took the bride about the neck, And kiss’d her lips® with such a clamorous smack, That, at the parting, all the church did echo: And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame ; And after me, I know, the rout is coming. Such a mad marriage never was before :— Hark, hark! I hear the miristrels play. [ Music. Re-enter Perrucuio, Karuartna, Branca, Baprista, Horrensio, Grumio, and Train. Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for _ your pains : I know you think to dine with me to-day, And have prepar’d great store of wedding cheer ; But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, And therefore here I mean to take my leave. Bap. Is’t possible you will away to-night? Pet. I must away to-day, before night come: Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, You would entreat me rather go than stay. And, honest company, I thank you all, That have beheld me give away myself To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife : (39) For why. An idiom of Shakespeare’s time, to express ‘for the reason that,’ ‘ because.’ (40) He calls for wine. A cup or bowl of “wine,” with “sops ” in it, was a usual accompaniment to the ceremonial of marriage in ancient times; a custom that prevailed still when Shakespeare wrote. (41) Quaff'd off the muscadel. To “ quaft ” ig to drink heartily, to swallow in large draughts. The word has been variously derived ; some asserting that it comes from the Scotch word ‘quaich’ or “quaff’ (spelt thus by Smollett in his “Humphry Clinker’’), a small wooden drinking-vessel ; and others that it comes from the Swedish word quaf, the bottom, as of a cup. “ Muscadel,” or “muscadine,’ is wine made from the moscatello grape; so named by Ttalians, from its musky scent—a fragrance like nutmeg, called by them noce moscato. (42) Kiss’d her lips. The nuptial kiss formed also part of the church marriage-rite: and there is allusion to it in writers of Shakespeare’s time. 504 Dine with my father, drink a health to me; For I must hence; and farewell to you all. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. [Act ILE The door is open, sir ; there lies your way ; You may be jogging whiles your boots are green ;* For me, Pll not begone till I please myself : Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. Pet. It may not be. Tis like you’ll prove a jolly surly groom, Gre. Let me entreat you. That take it on you at the first so roundly.“ Pet. It cannot be. Pet. O Kate, content thee; pr’ythee, be not Kath. Let me entreat you. angry. ea Grumio. Imprimis, we came down a foul hill. Act IV. Scene I. Pet. Iam content. Kath. Iwill be angry: what-hast thou to do?— Kath. Are you content to stay ? Father, be quiet: he shall stay my leisure. Pet. Jam content you shall entreat me stay ; Gre. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. . But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. Kath. (Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner : Kath. Pet. Gru. the horses.“ Kath. Nay, then, Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day ; No, nor to-morrow, nor till I please myself. Now, if you love me, stay. Grumio, my horse.* (43) Horse. Here, as elsewhere, used plurally for ‘horses.’ We still have the expression, ‘a party of horse,’ ‘a troop of horse.’ _ (44) The oats have eaten the horses. One of those blunders of inversion that Shakespeare is fond of putting into the mouths of is clown-jesters. _ (45) Be jogging whiles your boots are green. A familiar phrase, implying ‘be moving on your way at once, while your boots are freshly greased.’ That it was the custom to grease boots when preparing for a distant journey, we know; and Falstaff says, Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten | I see a woman may be made a fool, if she had not a spirit to resist. Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy com- mand.— Obey the bride, you that attend on her ; Go to the feast, revel and domineer,‘” Carouse full measure to her marriage-bed, “They would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor peters boots with me,” “Merry Wives of Windsor,” Act iv., sc. 5. (46) So roundly. See Note 68, Act i. (47) Domineer. Here used for ‘roister,’ ‘feast noisily,’ ‘have an orgy ;’ what now would be called, in slang phrase, ‘keep it up.’ In “Tarleton’s Jests’’ there is mention of “Tarleton having been domineering very late at night with two of his friends.” So roughly; so bluntly; so uncompromisingly. Scene L.] THE Be mad and merry,**—or go hang yourselves : But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret ; I will be master of what is mine own: She is my goods, my chattels ; she is my house, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything ; And here she stands, touch her whoever dare ; T’ll bring mine action on the proudest he That stops my way in Padua.—Grumio, Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves ; Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.— Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate : Til buckler thee“ against a million. [Hxeunt Prrrucuio, Karuarina, and Grumio. Bap. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. A OUb SCENE I.—A hull in Perrucuio’s country house. Enter Grumto. Gru. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad mas- ters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten ? was ever man so rayed ?! was ever man so weary ? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are coming after to warm them. Now, were not I a little pot, and soon hot,’ my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my body, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me:—but I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myselt’; for, considering the weather, a taller man than [® will take cold.—-Holla, ho! Curtis ! Enter Curtis. Curt. Who is that calls so coldly? Gru. A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from my shoulder to my heel, with no greater a run but my head and my neck. A fire, good Curtis. Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio ? (48) Be mad and merry. Shakespeare here, and elsewhere, uses “mad” in the sense of ‘ wild with high spirits,’ ‘carried away by gay humour.’ (49) Buckler thee. ‘Protect thee, as with a buckler or shield’ This is one of those nouns used as a verb by Shakespeare in his own potentially poetic way. All good and great poets coin them; but he, according to his wont, surpasses all other poets in this par- ticular, as in everything else. (50) Wants. Used for ‘are wanting,’ ‘are not here.’ (51) Junkets. Delicacies, dainties. ‘ Junket,’ or ‘juncate,’ was ‘a sweet dish made of cream, rose-water, and sugar; and of fresh cheese made of milk that is curdled without anv runnet, and served in a frail of green rushes.’ (French, jones.) Eventually the term came to be applied to any kind of table delicacy. (1) Rayed. May here mean ‘soiled,’ ‘befouled,’ ‘berayed,’ in allusion to the tumbling in the mire he has had; or ‘striped,’ ‘marked with lashes,’ in reference to the beating he has had. See Note 21, Act iii. 64—VoL. I. TAMING OF THE SHREW. 505 Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. Tra. Of all mad matches never was the like. Luc. Mistress, what’s your opinion of your sister? Bian. That, being mad herself, she’s madly mated. Gre. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. Bap. Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants” For to supply the places at the table, You know there wants no junkets”! at the feast.— Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom’s place ; Ané let Bianca take her sister’s room. Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it ? Bap. She shall, Lucentio.—Come, gentlemen, let’s go. [ Hacunt. LE Ves Gru. Oh, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire ; cast on no water. Curt. Is she so hot* a shrew as she is reported ? Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast ; for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mistress, and myself,’ fellow Curtis. Curt. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast. Gru. AmTI but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee® to our mistress, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office ? Curt. I pr’ythee, good Grumio, tell me how goes the world ? Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and therefore, fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for my master and mistress are almost frozen to death. Curt. There’s fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news ? (2) A little pot, and soon hot. A proverbial phrase. This is one among several indications that Grumio is of short stature: and we meet with similar touches in other plays; showing how Shake- speare had the individual personality of his characters before him when he delineated them. ' (3) A taller man than I. “Taller’’ is here used punningly; inits sense of more lofty height, and in its sense of stouter, braver, more robust or athletic. See Note 60, Act i., “ Merry Wives.” (4) Hot. Usedinthe sense of ‘peppery,’ ‘ fiery,’ ‘hot-tempered;’ but Grumio chooses to take it partly in its usual sense of ‘warm.’ (5) Myself. It has been proposed to alter “myself” to ‘thyself’ here, because of Curtis’s reply, ““I am no beast.’ But Grumio, having made himself out to be a beast, and then called Curtis fellow Curtis,’ includes his fellow-servant in the imputation, (6) Complain on thee. For ‘complain of thee.’ ‘‘On’’ and “of”’ were often used indiscriminately in Shakespeare’s time; and even in our day the Yorkshire people say, “Ill tell upon thee,” instead of ‘Jil tell of thee.’ 506 THE TAMING Gru. Why, “Jack, boy! ho! boy!”? and as much news as thou wilt. Curt. Come, you are so full of coney-catch- ing !S— Gru. Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold. Where’s the cook? is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed,’ cobwebs swept ; the serving men in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? Be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair with- out,!° the carpets laid, and everything in order ? Curt. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news ? Gru. First, know, my horse is tired ; my master and mistress fallen out. Curt. How? Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a tale. Curt. Let’s ha’t, good Grumio. Gru. Lend thine ear. Curt. Here. Gru. [Striking him.] There. Ourt. 'This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. Gru. And therefore ’tis called a sensible! tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and be- seech listening. Now I begin: Imprimis,” we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress :-— Curt. Both of one horse ?!3 Gru. What's that to thee ? Curt. Why, a horse. Gru. Tell thou the tale:—but hadst thou not crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell, and she under her horse; thou shouldst have heard, in how miry a place; how she was be- moiled ;!* how he left her with the horse upon her; how he beat me because her horse stumbled; how she waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; how he swore; how she prayed—that never prayed (7) “ Jack, boy! ho! boy!’ The first words of an old round in three parts, the next word of the line being “ news.’’ Grumio, as a clown-jester, is well stocked with scraps of songs, it being part of a professional jester’s office to sing snatches of ballads between whiles, intermingling them with his quips and quibbles on words. A short time before, he makes allusion to another ballad, an old popular catch, in which occur the lines— “ Fire, fire ;—Fire, fire: Cast on some more water.” (8) Coney-catching. More frequently used for ‘thieving,’ ‘ cheat- ing,’ ‘tricking’ (see Note 17, Act i., ‘Merry Wives”); but here used to express ‘ tricks of speech,’ ‘ word-catching.’ (9) Rushes strewed. It was the custom formerly to strew the floors of rooms with rushes, before the use of carpets. The ‘‘ carpets” mentioned a little farther on mean table-covers. (10) Be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without. This is said punningly, “ Jacks’’ being a name for men-servants and for leathern drinking-vessels, “ Jills” being a name for women-servants and for pewter drinking-measures. “ Fair within,’’ applied to men- servants, means ‘well dressed within doors;’ applied to drinking- vessels, means ‘ well washed inside.’ “ Fair without,’’ applied to women-servants, means “neatly dressed out;’ applied to drinking- measures, means ‘ brightened up outside.’ (11) Sensible. Punned upon, in the signification of ‘feeling,’ and in that of ‘full of good sense.’ See Note 23, Act iii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (12) Imprimis. Latin. ‘In the first place,’ ‘ firstly.’ (13) Both of one horse. ‘‘Of’’ used for ‘ on, (14) Bemoiled. Bemired, daubed with mud, bedraggled. French mouillé, wet, dabbled. ‘ (15) Burst. Broken. (16) Blue coats. This was the ordinary clothing of servants. There are other allusions to it in Shakespeare. OF THE SHREW. [Acr IV. before; how I cried; how the horses ran away ; how her bridle was burst ;!° how I lost my crupper ; —with many things of worthy memory, which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced to thy grave. Curt. By this reckoning, he is more shrew than she. Gru. Ay; and that, thou and the proudest of you all shall find, when he comes home. But what talk I of this?—Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest: let their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats’ brushed, and their garters of an indifferent!’ knit: let them court’sy with their left legs;'* and not presume to touch a hair of my master’s horse-tail till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready ? Curt. They are. Gru. Call them forth. Curt. Do you hear? ho! you must meet my master, to countenance my mistress.!® Gru. Why, she hath a face of her own. Curt. Who knows not that ? Gru. Thou, it seems, that callest for company to countenance her. Curt. I eall them forth to credit her.?° Gru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. Enter several Servants. Nath. Welcome home, Grumio ! Phil. How now, Grumio! Jos. What, Grumio ! Nich. Fellow Grumio! Nath. How now, old lad ?*! Gru. Welcome, you;—how now, you;—what, you:—fellow, you; and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat ? Nath. All things is ready.” master ? How near is our (17) Indifferent. Shakespeare elsewhere uses this word to express “tolerably,’ ‘passably;’ and, therefore, here he may mean it to signify ‘tolerably good.’ But there is a probability that he intends “garters of an indifferent knit” to signify ‘ garters knit alike, not differing from each other. It is worthy of notice that these injunctions. of Grumio serve to show that Petruchio’s household is in more than the disorderly state of bachelor slovenliness that is to be arranged for the reception of a bride; it has evidently been in the squalid neglect and dirt which mark the habitual condition of a miser’s, or, at any rate, of a stingy man’s dwelling. (18) Cowrt’sy with their left legs. ‘Make their bows with their left legs stuck out.’ ‘‘Court’sy ”’ was used for a man’s salutation as well as for a woman’s (see Note 46, Acti., “Love’s Labour’s Lost’’); and the sticking one leg out in an attitude formed so important a feature in this act of reverence, that to make a bow was at one time called * making a leg.’ (19) To countenance my mistress. Curtis here uses ‘the word “countenance ” in the sense of ‘ entertain,’ ‘receive,’ or ‘ welcome,’ though Grumio chooses to take it in its more usual sense. A quotation will show the way in which the word was thus employed : —“The old law was, that when a man was fined, he was to be fined salvo contenemento,-so as his countenance might be safe, taking countenance in the same sense as your countryman does, when he says, “If you will come unto my house, I will show you the best countenance I can;’ that is, not the best face, but the best enter- tainment.’’—Selden’s Table Talk. : (20) To credit her. Curtis uses this expression in the sense of ‘to do her credit,’ ‘to do her honour; ’ but Grumio replies to it in the sense of ‘to advance money upon credit.’ (21) Old lad. An instance of Shakespeare’s using the word “old.” as a term of familiarity, not as indicating age. See Note 62, ane ee Measure for Measure,” and Note 1, Act v., “As You ike It. (22) All things is ready. Besides that such a false concord was a Scunn 1. THE ‘TAMING dru. Even at hand, alighted by this; and there- fore be not,—Cock’s passion,” silence !—I hear my master. Hnter Perrucuio and KatrHaRina. Pet. Where be these knaves? What! no man at door To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip ?— All Serv. Here, here, sit; here, sir.— Pet. Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir !— You logger-headed and unpolish’d grooms ! What! no attendance? no regard? no duty ?— Where is the foolish knave I sent before ? Gru. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. Pet. You peasant swain! you hobbling malt- horse*! drudge ! Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, And bring along these rascal knaves with thee ? Gru. Nathaniel’s coat, sir, was not fully made, And Gabriel’s pumps were all unpink’d i’ the heel ;* ; There was no link to colour Peter’s hat,” And Walter’s dagger was not come from sheathing: There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory ; The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ; Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. Pet. Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.— [Eveunt some of the Servants. [ Sings. | Where is the life that late I led 7— Where are those 2?—Sit down, Kate, and welcome.— Soud, soud, soud, soud !*5 permitted grammatical licence in Shakespeare’s time, it is here _characteristically put into the servant Nathaniel’s mouth ; and, moreover, forms a kind of humorous jumbling of Grumio’s last speech, “Is all ready, and all things meat?” (23) Cock’s passion. A commonly used and vulgarised form of a very solemn oath. (24) Malt-horse. Heavy, lumbering, clumsy. See Note 2, Act iii., “Comedy of Errors.” (25) Gabriel’s pumps were all unpink’d V the heel. “ Pumps” are shoes with thin soles and low heels. ‘‘ Unpink’d” is said to mean unpierced with eyelet-holes; but, inasmuch as shoes are not fastened at the heel, we incline to think that “pinking,” thus applied, was more akin to a process now known by that name. « Pink'd silk’? means strips of silk cut out or stamped at the edges in small scollops; and possibly “ pink’d,” as used by Shakespeare, meant this kind of ornamentation. In “Henry VIII.” (v. 3) we meet with mention of “a haberdasher’s wife, whose pink’d porringer fell off her head;’’ and this confirms us in our idea. (26) No link to colour Peter’s hat. A “link” is a torch made of pitch and straw, or rope-yarn ; and we find in the following passage an explanation of the use to which it was sometimes put :— This cozenage is used likewise in selling old hats found upon dung- hills instead of new, blacked over with the smoke of an old link.” —Greene’s Mihil Mumchance. It has been remarked, that here “Graumio is evidently playing into his master’s hands.”” He certainly has not been home long enough to know all these details ; but they quite well agree with the rest of the points that we learn of this forlorn household; and they have much more the look of excuses fabricated by Grumio, as likely to be the case, than particulars invented to second his master’s purpose. (27) Where is the life that late I led? A scrap of an old ballad, quoted also by Pistol in “2 Henry IV.” (v. 3). Petruchio hums it as one of his side flings at Katharine; pretending to regret his bachelor liberty. (28) Soud, soud, soud, soud! Shakespeare’s coined word, to express fatigue, heat, and impatience. Great comic authors, like Shakespeare and Moliére, take the pains to invent and write down words for their characters to speak, in order that they may give full expression to the ideas intended to be conveyed. Monsieur de Porceaugnac’s “Ah! ah!’ the premier Medecin’s “Hom! hom!” Orgon’s and George Dandin’s “Ouais!’’ Madame de Sotenville’s “Pouah!’’ Nicole’s “ Hi! hi!”—are all of the same kind of coinage THE SHREW. 507 Re-enter Servants with supper. Why, when, I say?*’—Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.— Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when ? [ Sings. | It was the friar of orders grey, As he forth walked on his way : ”— Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry : [Strikes him.] Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.— Be merry, Kate.—Some water, here ; what, ho !— Where’s my spaniel Troilus?—Sirrah, get you hence, And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither : 1— | Haxit Servant. One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.— Where are my slippers ?—Shall I have some water ? Enter a Servant with a bason and ewer. Come, Kate, and wash,” and welcome heartily.— [Servant lets the ewer fall. You boggling villain! will you let it fall? [Strikes him. Kath. Patience, I pray you; *twas a fault un- willing.*® Pet. A boggling, beetle-headed, flap-ear’d knave !— Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.” Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall 1?— What’s this ? mutton ? First Serv. Ay. Pet. Who brought it ? Peter. i Pet. °*Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. as Petruchio’s “Soud, soud!’’—seemingly insignificant mono- ee but really suggestive of the most exquisitely humorous effects. (29) Why, when, I say? ‘When” was a word in common use as an exclamation of impatience. See Note 50, Act i., “Tempest.” (30) It was the friar, 4c. A scrap of another old ballad; but, like the last-quoted, now lost. Dr. Percy collected this and other lyrical fragments from Shakespeare’s pages, and put them together, adding somewhat of his own to form a complete whole; which, under the title of “The Friar of Orders Grey,’’ appears in the second book of the first volume of “ Percy’s Reliques.”’ (31) And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither. As this character does not make his appearance, we may imagine that Petruchio merely calls for him as he asks after his dog; to seem additionally lordly and masterful in the eyes of Katharine, and in order to show her that she is to like and dislike according to his will, as well as to receive affectionately, in the light of a relation, his kindred, and all whom he may choose her so to receive. The custom of having kinsfolk to reside in the household of the head of the family as dependants—sometimes even as domestics—has been pointed out in Note 50, Act i., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (32) Come, Kate, and wash. Washing the hands immediately before and after eating was an indispensable accompaniment to meals, in times when, from the rarity of knives and forks, it was the practice to eat with the fingers. (33) Patience, I pray you; “twas a fawt willing. This little speech of Katharine’s affords an evidence of what, to our minds, Shakespeare subtly conveys in the drawing of her character—that she is not intrinsically of so bad a nature as she is generally supposed to be. Her first word in deprecation of her husband’s violence is not a complaint for herself, but is uttered on behalf of another—a servant. Moreover, she finds he does not treat her roughly, but does all avowedly for her sake; also, while rating and raving at others, he addresses her as “good, sweet Kate,” and “sweet Kate; thus maintaining the impression of his personal regard and consideration for her amid all his general turbulence (see the first Note in the play). The fact is, that Petruchio practically shows Katharine how ugly violent temper is in its manifestations ; and she has the sense to read the lesson, and take its teaching home. (34) IT know you have a stomach. Petruchio uses this phrase punningly, as a sly fleer at Katharine, in its sense of ‘I know you 508 What dogs are these !—Where is the rascal cook ? How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, And serve it thus to me that love it not? [Throws the meat, &e., at them.] There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all: You heedless joltheads and unmanner’d slaves! [ll be with you straight. What ! do you grumble ? Petruchio. First Servant. Kath. T pray you, husband, be not so dis- quiet : The meat was well, if you were so contented. Pet. I tell thee, Kate, ’twas burnt and dried away ; And I expressly am forbid to touch it, For it engenders choler, planteth anger ;*° And better ’twere that both of us did fast,3¢— Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,— Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. have anappetite,’ or ‘are hungry; ’ and inits sense of ‘I know you are haughty-tempered and choleric.’ See Note 82, Acti., “ Tempest.” (35) It engenders choler, planteth anger. Meat, dried or burnt in the cooking, was believed to induce irritability of temper. See Note 22, Act ii., “Comedy of Errors.’ (36) Better ’twere that both of us did fast. Be it observed that Petruchio—or rather, Shakespeare through him—well knew the magic power of the little words, “ both of us,” “ourselves,” “ we,” in a husband’s mouth to a wife, or in a wife’s toa husband. Like- wise, by the kindly ingenuity of making Katie’s special fault his THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. QUUVIUEY: HUGO carey pte ET FTE meh [Acr IV. Be patient ; to-morrow ’t shall be mended, And, for this night, we’ll fast for company :— Come, I will bring*’ thee to thy bridal chamber. [Hxeunt Perrucuio, Karnarina, and CurTIS. Nath. Peter. Peter, didst ever see the like ? He kills her in her own humour,*8 | \ it | (i We : vill | (i | | ny iq ANNI i| "ih \ ca aS | HW | il | jit POCO POUELEEE EEE ll a i iia il Hale What’s this? mutton ? Act IV. Scene J. Re-enter Curnis. Gru. Where is he ? Curt. In her chamber, Making a sermon of continency to her ; And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul, Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak, - And sits as one new-risen from a dream. Away, away! for he is coming hither. [ Hxeunt. own as well as hers, in this admission that they both would do well to try and avoid those things that tend to foster it, Petruchio adopts one of the best means of leading to its cure, and of inducing her to join him in effecting this. Surely Shakespeare’s subtlety was one of his finest characteristics, so essentially does he manifest it in his moral delineations. (37) Bring. Idiomatically used for ‘escort,’ ‘accompany,’ ‘attend.’ See Note 20, Act iii., “ Much Ado about Nothing.”’ (38) He kills her in her own humour. A whimsical way of saying, “ By greater violence he extinguishes hers.’’ eall’st name, tailor mischief’s ’ ,» 0 at wh Why, An \ \ ANY \S UMNNNMOAMMMANTAY a = SS LE 3 = Fa PLAID LIV IEE, =e phe ETI ‘aia meo Petruchio. SSS oe Fn od Dp AAP DI Do LD ESS SEE EEE SS SF FFE EEE — IP FLT LAD ff Pe en LE FSF I oe EES Act IV. Scene 1I!. P thou this Scene II.| Re-enter Prrrucuio. Pet. Thus have I politicly begun my reign, And ’tis my hope to end successfully. My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty ; And, till she stoop,®® she must not be full-gorg’d, For then she never looks upon her lure. Another way I have to man my haggard, To make her come, and know her keeper’s call ; That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites That bate,-and beat, and will not be obedient. She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat ; Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ; As with the meat, some undeserved fault Pll find about the making of the bed; And here Ill fling the pillow, there the bolster, This way the coverlet, another way the sheets :— Ay, and amid this hurly,” I intend* That all is done in reverend care of her; And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night : And, if she chance to nod, Ill rail and brawl, And with the clamour keep her still awake. This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ;* And thus [ll curb her mad and _ headstrong humour.— He that knows better how to tame a shrew, Now let him speak : ’tis charity to show. [ Exit. SCENE Il.—Padua. Before Bartista’s house. Enter Tranto and Hortensto. Tra. Is’t possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca Doth fancy any other but Lucentio ? I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.* Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching. [They stand aside. Enter Branca and Lucentio. Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read ? Bian. What, master, read you? first resolve me that. Ine. Tread that I profess, the Art to Love. Bian. And may you prove, sir, master of your art ! Ine. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart! . [They retire. Hor. {Coming forward.| Quick proceeders, marry ! Now, tell me, I pray, (39) Till she stoop. The word “ stocp”’ is here used in its sense of yield, bend, submit, and in its sense of coming down as a trained falcon upon its prey. The whole passage abounds in terms borrowed from falconry, and used figuratively. “‘Full-gorged ” is fully fed; and “lure”’ is the stuffed bird made to represent that kind of living one which it is intended that the falcon shall pursue. The use of the “lure” was to tempt the falcon back after it had flown. To “man’’ a hawk is to tame it; and a “haggard”’ is a wild un- reclaimed hawk. See Note 4, Act iii., “Much Ado about Nothing.’’ To “watch” a hawk, is to keep it waking. See Note 19, Act v., “Merry Wives of Windsor.” To “bate’’ is to flutter; as the falcon does when it strikes its prey irregularly. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. d1] You that durst swear that your Mistress Bianca Lovy’d none in the world so well as Lucentio. Tra. Oh, despiteful love! unconstant woman- kind !— I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. Hor. Mistake no more: I am not Licio, Nor a musician, as I seem to be; But one that scorns to live in this disguise, For such a one as leaves a gentleman, And makes a god of such a cullion : “4 Know, sir, that I am call’d Hortensio. Tra. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard Of your entire affection to Bianca; And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, I will with you,—if you be so contented,— Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. Hor. See, how they kiss and court!—Signior Lucentio, Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow Never to woo her more; but do forswear her, As one unworthy all the former favours That I have fondly flatter’d her withal. Tra. And here I take the like unfeignéd oath, Never to marry with her though she would entreat : Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him ! Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn ! For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, I will be married to a wealthy widow, Ere three days pass, which hath as long lov’d me As I have lov’d this proud disdainful haggard.” And so farewell, Signior Lucentio.— Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love :—and so, I take my leave, In resolution as I swore before. | Hait Horvrensto. Lucentio and Branca advance. Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you~ with such erace As ’longeth to a lover’s blesséd case ! Nay, I have ta’en you napping, gentle love ; And have forsworn you, with Hortensio. Bian. Tranio, you jest: but have you both for- sworn me? Tra. Mistress, we have. Lue. Then we are rid of Licio. Tra. faith, he’ll have a lusty widow now, That shall be woo’d and wedded in a day. Bian, Heaven give him joy! Tra. Ay, and he’ll tame her. Bian. He says so, Tranio. Tra. °Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. Bian. The taming-school ’ what, is there such a place ? (40) Hurly. Tumult, uproar, commotion. French, hurler, to howl, yell, or ery aloud. . (41) Intend. Used here, as elsewhere, for ‘pretend.’ (42) To kill a wife with kindness. A familiar expression in Shake- speare’s time; and suggested the name of his contemporary Thomas Heywood’s impressive play, “A Woman Killed with Kindness. (43) She bears me fair in hand. ‘She gives me fair encourage- ment. To “bear in hand” was an idiom for encourage, lead on in false hope or expectation, beguile by appearance of good-will. See Note 37, Act iv., ““ Much Ado about Notaing. ' (44) Cullion. A base, mean fellow. 2 2 (45) Haggard. A degenerate hawk; a hawk incapable of being 512 Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master; | That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,“ To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue.” finter BIoNDELLO. Bion. Oh, master, master, I have watch’d so long That I am dog-weary! but at last I spied An ancient angel’ coming down the hill, Will serve the turn. Tra. What is he, Biondello ? Bion. Master, a mercatanté, or a pedant,* T know not what; but formal in apparel, In gait and countenance surely like a father. Luc. And what of him, Tranio ? Tra. If he be credulous and trust my tale, T’ll make him glad to seem Vincentio ; And give assurance to Baptista Minola, As if he were the right Vincentio. Take in your love, and then let me alone. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. Enter a Pedant. Ped. God save you, sir! Tra. And you, sir! you are welcome. Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest ? Ped. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: But then up farther, and as far as Rome ; And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. Tra. What countryman, I pray ? Ped. Of Mantua. Tra. Of Mantua, sir ?—marry, Heaven forbid! And come to Padua, careless of your life ? Ped. My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard. Tra. °Tis death for any one in Mantua To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? Your ships are stay’d at Venice; and the duke (For private quarrel ’*twixt your duke and him) Hath publish’d and proclaim’d it openly: Tis marvel; but that you are but newly come, You might have heard it else proclaim’d about. Ped. Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so! For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence, and must here deliver them. Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy, This will I do, and this I will advise you :— First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa ? Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been ; Pisa renowned for grave citizens. Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ? reclaimed, or trained. See Note 4, Act iii., “Much Ado about Nothing.” (46) Tricks eleven and twenty long. An allusion to the game of “ one-and-thirty,’’ mentioned in Note 65, Act i. (47) Charm her chattering tongue. Shakespeare uses the verb “charm” for ‘bind as by a spell,’ ‘conjure,’ ‘subdue by magic influence.’ (48) An ancient angel. This seems. to have been a sort of cant term for a good old soul, a worthy old fellow; one easily to b» cajoled. Cotgrave renders Angelot a la grosse escaille, ‘An old angell; and, by metaphor, a fellow of th’ old, sound, honest, and worthie stamp.’ (49) A mercatante, or a pedant. A mercatanté (spelt in the Folio ‘“Marcantant’) is the Italian word for merchant; and “ pedant”’ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. [Acr IV. Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him ; A merchant of incomparable wealth. Tra. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. Bion. [Aside.] As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one. Tra. To save your life in this extremity, This favour will I do you for his sake ; And think it not the worst of all your fortunes That you are like to Sir Vincentio. His name and credit shall you undertake,” And in my house you shall be friendly lodg’d :— Look that you take upon you as you should; You understand me, sir :—so shall you stay Till you have done your business in the city : Tf this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. Ped. Oh, sir, I do; and will repute you ever The patron of my life and liberty. Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand ;— My father is here look’d for every day, To pass assurance! of a dower in marriage *Twixt me and one Baptista’s daughter here : In all these circumstances ll instruct you: Go with me, to clothe you as becomes you. [ Hxeuni. SCENE III.—A room in Prrrucutio’s house. Enter Katuarina and Grumio. Gru. No, no, forsooth; I dare not, for my life. Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears : What! did he marry me to famish me ? Beggars, that come unto my father’s door, Upon entreaty have a present alms ;”° Tf 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 should say, if I should sleep or eat, *Twere deadly sickness or else present death.— I pr’ythee go, and get me some repast; T care not what, so it be wholesome food. Gru. What say you to a neat’s foot ? Kath. °Tis passing good: i pr’ythee let me have it. Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat.” How say you to a fat tripe finely broil’d ? was used in England, as in Italy pedante is still used, for school- master, preceptor, tutor, one who has the charge of youth. (50) Undertake. Here used for ‘assume.’ (51) Assurance. Throughout this play, in every instance except one, the word “assurance ’”’ is used in its legal sense of ‘ agree wpon a settlement,’ ‘consent to confer property,’ ‘give security for,’ ‘draw up a deed of gift.’ (52) A present alms. once.’ (53) Nor never needed. Instance of Shakespeare’s using the double negative. (54) Am starv’d for meat. Shakespeare’s elliptical way of ex- pressing ‘am starv’d for want of meat.’ (55) Too choleric a meat. The insolence of Grumio’s jocosely “An immediate alms,’ ‘an alms given at NR \ ANN RNS AN AN IN 4 (ee Scenz III.] Kath, I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me. Gru. I cannot tell; I fear ’tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard ? Kath, A dish that I do love to feed upon. Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.* Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 513 That triumph thus upon my misery ! Go, get thee gone, I say. Enter Perrucuio with a dish of meat; and Horrensio. Pet. How fares my Kate? What! sweeting, rest. all amort ?*7 RN) Tailor. [Reads.] Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown. Grumio. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the skirts of it. Act IV. Scene IL. Gru. Nay, then I will not: you shall have the Hor. Mistress, what cheer ? mustard, Kath. Faith, as cold as can be. Or else you get no beef of Grumio. Kath. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt. ge ne then the mustard without the eef, Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [Beats him. That feed’st me with the very name of meat: Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, affecting to believe that tasteless neat’s foot and insipid tripe are “choleric,” is well imagined to act as an exasperation to Katharine, culminating in his balking her altogether of the ex- pected food. (56) The mustard is too hot a little. Here Master Grumio is borne out by the belief of thetime. We find in “The Glasse of Humours” (no date), “A choleric man should abstain from all salt, scorched 65 Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me. Here, love; thou see’st how diligent I am To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee: [Sets the dish on a table, IT am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits tharks. What! not a word? Nay, then thou lov’st it not ; And all my pains is sorted to no proof.*— Here, take away this dish. dry meats, from mustard, and such like things as will aggravate his malignant humours.’ See Note 35 of this Act. (57) Amort. Dispirited, discouraged, inanimate; as if dead. French, @ mort, to death. (58) Sorted to no proof. *Tended to no purpose,’ ‘proved of no avail,’ ‘met withno approval.’ Shakespeare uses “sort’’ for befell, happen, concur, tend befittingly towards. See Note 30, Act iv., 514 THE TAMING Kath. I pray you, let it stand. Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks ; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. Kath. I thank you, sir.*® Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame.— Come, Mistress Kate, Pll bear you company. Pet. [Aside to him.] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov’st me.— [To her.| Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace :—and now, my honey love, Will we return unto thy father’s house, And revel it as bravely as the best, With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales,” and things ;° With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery, With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. What! hast thou din’d? The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his ruffling ® treasure. Enter Tailor. Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments ; Lay forth the gown.— Enter Haberdasher. What news with you, sir ? Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer ; A velvet dish :—fie, fie! ’tis low and filthy : Why, *tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby’s cap: Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. Kath. Tl haveno bigger: this doth tit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then. Hor. [Aside.] That will not be in haste. “Much Ado about Nothing.” ‘“ Proof” is probably here used for proof or approof, approbation. (59) I thank you, sir. This, and her previous “TI pray you, let it stand,’’ excellently depict the half-sullen, half-passive condition that comes as a reaction after Katharine’s late relapse into an out- burst of petulance and wrath. She is somewhat ashamed of her having been betrayed into it; the more, from finding that her hus- band himself brings her the food she hungers for. Then follows another outbreak, upon the trial to womanly patience at hearing well-fashioned attire disparaged by masculine ignorance in such matters; but even this subsides before the absurdity as well as violence of his pretending not to hear her, and flying out at the haberdasher and tailor; and it is her last exhibition of temper. She perceives her mistake, and, like a sensible woman, sets about her own cure, by thenceforth maintaining a strict guard over herself. The gradual, as well as quietly indicated way in which this is done, bears witness to Shakespeare’s skill in mental delineation; and, indeed, his mode of depicting the process of moral reform in certain of his characters is one of his most wondrous masteries. (60) Farthingales. Hoops. See Note 23, Act iii., “Merry Wives of Windsor.” (61) Things. One of the big-wig commentators pronounces this to be “a poor word;”’ and opined that “perhaps the author had not another that would rhyme.’ [Poor Shakespeare! At a loss for a rhyming word!] But “things” here is precisely the sort of semi- sarcastic term—a term favoured by the female sex when talking rapturously of inexpressibly charming finery—that Petruchio would use; as in the next line he uses “ knavery,” not only for its rhyming with “bravery,” but because it implies trumpery, frippery, trickery of ornament. _ (62) The tailor stays thy leisure. Women’s gowns in Shakespeare’s time were usually made by men. (63) Rufling. ‘Flaunting, ‘showy.’ To “ruffle” was a verb OF THE SHREW. (Act FV. Kath. 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 ;“4 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. Pet. Why, thou say’st true ; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin,® a bauble, a silken pie: T love thee well, in that thou lik’st it not. Kath. Love me or love me not, I like the cap ; And it I will have, or I will have none. Pet. Thy gown? why, ay :—come, tailor, let us see’t. Oh, mercy! Look, what masquing stuff is here! What’s this? a sleeve? *tis like a demi-cannon :® What! up and down, carved like an apple-tart ? Here’s snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,” Like to a censer in a barber’s shop :%— Why, what, o’ mischief’s name, tailor, call’st thou this ? Hor. [Aside.] I see she’s like to have neither cap nor gown. Tar. You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion and the time. Pet. Marry, and did; but if you be remem- ber’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 : Ill none of it:7 hence! make your best of it. Kath. I never saw a better-fashion’d gown, More quaint,’”” more pleasing, nor more commend- able : Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. Pet. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. used in Shakespeare’s time for ‘flaunt,’ ‘show off, ‘wear gaudy apparel.’ j oa) Have endur’d me say my mind. ‘Have borne my saying my mind.’ (65) A custard-cofin. “ Coffin’? was formerly a culinary term for the raised crust of a pie, pasty, or custard. (66) Demi-cannon. ‘A “demi-cannon” ordinary’ is technically described to be ‘a great gun six inches four-eighths diameter in the bore, twelve feet long; it carries a shot six inches one-sixth dia- meter, and thirty-two pounds weight.’ (67) Snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash. This we imagine to allude to the same kind of slashed ornamentation used for dresses, referred to in Note 54, Act iii., “ Much Ado about Nothing.” (68) A censer in a barber’s shop. ‘The kind of censer here alluded to was a sort of brazier, or fire-pan on a stand, with a pierced cover; used for burning perfumes in to sweeten the place, for keeping the shaving water warm, and for drying the towels upon. (69) If you be remember’d. ‘If you remember.’ kiss me, Kate. Ine. Well, go thy ways, old lad;** for thou shalt ha’t. Vin. *Tis a good hearing, when children are toward. Inve. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward. Pet. Come, Kate, we’ll to bed.— We three are married, but you two are sped.*7 [To Lucentio.] *T'was I won the wager, though you hit the white ; 8 And, being a winner, God give you good night ! [Hxeunt Petrucuio and KaTHARINA. Hor. Now, go thy ways; thou hast tam’d a curst shrew.*? Luc. °*Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam’d so.” [| Hxeunt. white. It is figuratively used for winning Bianca, the Italian for “ white.”’ (39) Shrew. Here pronounced shrow, for the sake of the rhyme. See Note 19 of this Act. It is so pronounced also at the close of Act iv., se. 1. (40) ’Tis a wonder, &c. This is the line alluded to in Note 1 of the play. It contains, so to say, the essence of its moral: to superficial observers (and Lucentio is notably superficial in judg- ment; witness his choice of Bianca) it is “a wonder” that a woman like Katharine should be brought from her first violence and wilfulness into the good sense and sweet wisdom of her ultimate wifely submission and knowledge of feminine duty. But to those who read Shakespeare’s teaching attentively, the underlying means of influence and monition are discernible beneath the ostensible means of mere out-blustering and out-domineering. Petruchio’s hectoring and ordering have that humorous exaggeration which serves to show his wife how ludicrous is such habitual and un- reasonable waywardness; he shows her the folly and absurdity as well as the hatefulness of violent temper; and, withal, he keeps throughout the personal fondness for her which wins a woman’s heart while it convinces her understanding. It is thus that Katha- rine is reformed; it is “‘so”’ that the Shrew is “ tamed.’ 3 SAR tlt aera Le = DRAMATIS PERSONAS. —oe——— Kine or FRAnNcE, Duke or FLORENCE. Bertram, Count of Rousillon. Larev, an old Lord. Paroutes, a Follower of Bertram. Several Young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the Florentine War. Riyaupo, Steward to the Countess of Rousillon. Lavatcu, Clown in her Household. A Page, also in her Household. Countess or Rousitton, Mother to Bertram. Hetena, a Gentlewoman protected by the Countess. A Widow of Florence. Diana, Daughter to the Widow. NCL } Neighbours and Friends to the Widow. ARIANA, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine. ScrnE—partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. eee WR etal, Ael + —_ ACC Deel ENDS WELL. SCENE I.—Rovsruuon. A hall in the mansion of the CounrTEss. Enter Bertram, the Countsess or Rousttuon, HELENA, and Largru, all in black. Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o’er my father’s death anew: but I must attend his majesty’s command, to whom I am now in ward,’ evermore in subjection. Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;—you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.® (1) The earliest printed copy of “Att’s WeLL THAT BENps Wet.” known to be in existence, is that of the 1623 Folio. It is supposed to be the same play as one mentioned by Meres in his “Palladis Tamia,’’ 1598; there called “Love Labors Wonne.” Probably it may have been a youthful composition of the poet, — originally named by him “Love’s Labour’s Won, or All’s Well that Ends Well;’’ and that when, at a subsequent period, he re-touched it for production on the stage, its second title only was retained. There are several reasons that sway us to this belief: first, there are variations of style visible in the course of the play, that bear trace of Shakespeare’s younger manner, and of his more mature manner; the story seems to be that which, of all Shake- speare’s known dramas, best consists with the title of “Love's Labour’s Won,” and that title forms a sort of counterpart to “Tove’s Labour’s Lost,” which bears internal evidence of being written at an early period of Shakespeare’s authorship; while in after years, when bringing forward “ All’s Well that Ends Well” for public performance, it may have been thought not only that_that title was most taking and most pertinent, but that there no longer existed any advantage in allusion to the counter- partly-named play. The pertinence of the title of “All’s Well that Ends Well’ is manifest from three passages occurring in it, which will be duly notified in their proper places. We find the source of the plot in Boccaccio’s “Giletta of Narbona,” which forms the ninth novel of the third day in his “ Decamerone.” There is a translation of this tale in the first volume of Painter’s “Palace of Pleasure,” 4to, 1566; and it is probable that hence Shakespeare became acquainted with what furnished him with the groundwork for this interesting drama. The conduct of the whole, the moulding of the incidents with effect, the moral force evolved from the plot and characters, the fine development of the 67 Count. What hope is there of his majesty’s amendment ? Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. Yount. This young gentlewoman had a father, —oh, that “had!” how sad a passage ’tis !*—whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal,’ and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king’s sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king’s disease. Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam ? Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, main of these characters themselves, with the introduction and originating such life-like personages as Countess Rousillon, Lord Lafeu, Parolles, and Lavatch the clown-jester, belong entirely to Shakespeare ; so that, while borrowing a spirited plot from a great Italian author, our great English dramatist constructed a work which Boccaccio himself would have been the first to appreciate in its entirety of excellence. (2) In ward. The heirs of great fortunes, under the feudal law, were wards to the king. This custom prevailed in England, and in some parts of France; and although it has been objected that Shakespeare is here guilty of mistake in ascribing it to a French province where it did not exist, yet he is not to blame in this matter, since this point is found in the original Italian novel of Boceaccio, whence the plot of the play is taken. (3) Rather than lack it, &c. Warburton proposed to alter “lack” to ‘slack, which, to our minds, would render the passage inex- plicable. As it stands, it seems to us to be elliptically expressed, but thoroughly intelligible. It may be thus interpreted— Your worthiness would stir it (that is, the king’s “virtue,” favour, or kindness) up where it did not exist, rather than be without it where it exists in such abundance.’ s (4) How sad a passage ’tis! Shakespeare uses this word “passage” with peculiar signification, to represent that which passes, that which takes place or occurs. The Countess’s paren- thetical exclamation concisely pictures all the calamitous cireum- stances involved in that one word “had”—the lost parent, the young girl’s orphanhood, her own dead husband, her son’s past dwelling with her at home, and his imminent departure. (5) Had it stretched so far, would have, fe. An instance of one of those passages where Shakespeare has an understood nominative in a sentence. See Note 45, Act v., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream ;”’ 530 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. and it was his great right to be so,—Gerard de Narbon. Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam: the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mor- tality. Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king lan- guishes of ? af. A fistula,® my lord. Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would it were not notorious.—Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ? Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer ; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity,—they are virtues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.’ Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. Count. °Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in.8 The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek.—No more of this, Helena,—go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have.® Hel. too,” I do affect a sorrow, indeed; but I have it and Note 17, Act i., “Merchant of Venice.’ Here “it’’ is under- stood as repeated before “would;*’ and some editors print the latter word thus— ’twould.’ (6) A fistula. In Painter’s version of Boccaccio’s novel, the King’s malady is described as “a swelling upon his breast, which, by reason of ill cure, was grown to be a fistula.” (7) Achieves her goodness. This description of Helena’s character has the effect of being obscure, from the poet’s having used expres- sions in a somewhat peculiar sense. ‘Dispositions’? he here employs for native tendencies; while “fair gifts’’ and “ virtuous qualities’? he employs for acquired excellencies—the result of educational culture and breeding. “Commendations go with pity, —they are virtues and traitors too,” is equivalent to ‘We com- mend such excellencies with regret that they should be good in themselves, yet treacherous in their combination and effects ;’ and then the Countess goes on to say that Helena’s merits are the better for their pure source, since she derives her integrity of nature from her father, and achieves her excellence herself. (8) ’Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. This is a metaphor which Shakespeare is fond of; for he knew far better than his commentators (one of whom attests his own vulgarity by asserting it to be “coarse and vulgar’’) that it is a wholesomely genuine one. Brine seasons by rendering that which it preserves sweet, fresh, and lasting; and all this beautifully applies to the subjects our poet thus metaphorises. (9) Affect a sorrow than to have. This speech is elliptically expressed, but it is perfectly intelligible, and may be thus para- phrased— Lest you be believed rather to affect a sorrow than to have it.’ In the Folio, the speech is printed with a concluding dash; but it is not a broken or unfinished speech. We believe that here the Countess leaves Helena, and goes over to her son Bertram. Thus, the following speeches—crossing—mark the speakers’ relative positions; the mother and son engaged with each other, while Lafeu remains near Helena, addressing her. (10) I do affect a sorrow, &c. In these, the first words she utters, Helena uses the veiled language which marks her diction throughout this opening scene. She is brooding over her secret thoughts, letting them but so indistinctly be seen ds to be undivined by those atound her, and only so far perceived by the reader as to enable him to gather what the dramatist intends to indicate. The “sorrow ” Helena “affects” is that for her father’s death ; the sorrow she says “I have” is for the inauspiciousness of her love, and for Bertram’s approaching departure. 1) Makes it soon mortal. Ludwig Tieck was the first to point out that this speech belongs to Helena, and not to the [Acr I. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead ; excessive grief the enemy to the living. Hel. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.!! Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.” Laf. How understand we that ? Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy father ; In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life’s key: be check’d for silence, But never tax’d for speech. What Heaven more will, That thee may furnish,'’ and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell.—My lord, °Tis an unseason’d courtier; good my lord, Advise him. Laf. He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. Count. Heaven bless him !—Farewell, Bertram. [ Heit. Ber. [To Hetrena.] The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you! !* Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress,” and make much of her. Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father.'® [Hxeunt Bertram and Larnv. Hel. Oh, were that all!—I think not on my father ; Countess; to the latter of whom it is assigned in the Folio, where prefixes are often manifestly misappropriated. It is pre- cisely in the veiled and enigmatical style that characterises all Helena’s speeches throughout this scene in the presence of others; a style so wonderfully true to the condition of a young girl engaged in ceaseless struggle with an absorbing and hopeless passion. Her every word is self-betrayal, to those who are aware of her secret; but wholly incomprehensible to those who are unconscious of its existence. Lafeu’s comment, “ How understand we that?” shows this effect, as produced upon unconscious hearers. The old lord is interested in Helena and her obviously ‘‘ excessive grief,” but is at a loss to interpret her words. To our minds, they mean—‘If the living (and to her Bertram represents the whole living world) dislike me and my grief, its excess will soon kill me.’ (12) Madam, I desire your holy wishes. It was this speech, addressed to the Countess, which probably led the printers of the Folio into the mistake of assigning the previous speech to her. Some commentators have proposed that this speech of Bertram’s, and Lafeu’s next, should be transposed; but Shakespeare often has these intervolved dialogues with crossing speeches not im- mediately responding to the last-uttered ones, where several persons are engaged in speaking; and most natural is the effect thus produced. See Note 13, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.’’ (13) That thee may furnish. ‘That may furnish thee with befitting advantages.’ This valedictory speech of a noble mother —noble, in heart and soul as well as by birth—is hardly to be matched for comprehensive moral precept in condensed expres- sion. Polonius’s farewell monition to his son Laertes vies with it in excellence; but each speech is singularly characteristic of its speaker: the Countess’s, vitally pertinent to spiritual good; the courtier’s, full of worldly-wise, as well as good-principled axioms. (14) Be servants to you. ‘May the best wishes your thoughts can frame be granted to you as ministers of happiness.’ (15) My mother, your mistress. The strength, yet apparent slightness, of the touch conveyed in the introduction of those two words, “your mistress,’’ here, cannot be too much admired. It so thoroughly serves to convey the impression Bertram has of Helena, that she is a dependant in his family ; to convey the effect of his indifference to her himself, and his unconsciousness of her preference for him; and to convey the smarting additional pang that must needs be struck into the heart of her whom he addresses in these few parting words. (16) You must hold the credit of your father. Lafeu means that Helena must live to do credit to her father’s memory; and not indulge in grief, the “‘ excess’? of which “‘makes it soon mortal.” Scene [.| And these great tears!? grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favour! in ’t but Bertram’s. I am undone: there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. “Iwas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour ; to sit and draw His archéd brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart’s table,!’—heart too capable” Of every line and trick?! of his sweet favour : But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relics—Who comes here ? One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; Yet these fix’d evils sit so fit in him, That they take place,” when virtue’s steely bones Look bleak i’ the cold wind: withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. Enter PAROLLES. Par. Save you, fair queen ! Hel. And you, monarch !* Pars) No. Hel. And no. Par. Are you meditating ? Hel. A There shall your master have a thousand loves,” A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ; His humble ambition,” proud humility, (17) These great tears. Helena means the tears that bathe her face in parting from Bertram; and which, from being supposed to be wept for her father, grace his memory more than those she really sheds for him—which she knows to be none. From Shake- speare’s condensed style of expression, his meaning is apt to escape superficial readers, and his diction to be pronounced obscure. (18) Favour. Here used for aspect, look, countenance, personal appearance. (19) In owr heart’s table. “Table”? was the technical term for the panel, canvas, or other substance upon which a picture is painted. (20) Capable. Used for susceptible, able to receive. See Note 109, Act iii., As You Like It.”’ (21) Trick. Shakespeare uses this word to express lineal pecu- liarity, touch, or trace of feature ; those individualities of form and expression which characterise a countenance. (22) Take place. Used for ‘take precedence,’ or ‘have position accorded to them.’ ‘‘Cold wisdom’’ embodies the idea of wise persons shivering in privation; while “‘ superfluous folly’’ embodies the idea of fools endowed with every superfluity. (23) And you, monarch. This is a retort akin to the one pointed out in Note 115, Act ii., “‘ Merchant of Venice.” Moreover, it is rendered additionally marked by involving an allusion to the vapouring ‘‘Monarcho,’’ described in Note 14, Act iv., ‘ Love’s Labour’s Lost.”’ (24) There shall your master have, 4c. This speech—in its abrupt introduction, in its apparent disconnectedness, in its enigmatically worded significance, in its crowded and anti- thetical images, and in its purposedly confused and obscure ex- pression—is precisely the one to bewilder the person to whom it is addressed, and to puzzle the majority of those who read it. Accordingly, most of the commentators observe that there is ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, His faith, his sweet disaster ; with a world Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,”é That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he— I know not what he shall:—God send him well !— The court’s a learning-place ;—and he is one— Par. What one, 1’ faith ? Hel. That I wish well.—’Tis pity— Par. What’s pity ? Hel. That wishing well had not a body in ’t, Which might be felt ; that we, the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And show what we alone must think ;*7 which never Returns us thanks. Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord caiis for you. [ Bait. Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. Par. Under Mars, I. Hel. I especially think, under Mars. Par. Why under Mars ? Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars. Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Par. Why think you so? Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. Par. That’s for advantage. Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: but the composition, that your valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing,” and I like the wear well. Par. Iam so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely. J will return perfect courtier; in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalise thee, 9 66 something “ wanting, omitted,” or ‘‘dropped out.’ Helena supplies the clue to the solution which she wishes to be given to her enigma, in the words, “The court’s a learning place;”’ in- tending that the word “ There” with which she begins her speech shall be understood to mean “the court.’’ But we believe Helena’s “there”’ to signify her own maiden self dedicated in the fulness of affection to him she loves, and consecrated ever- more to him, even though he should never accept the gift. She says, “There shall your master have,’ &c., because she means that in her self-devotion to him she makes herself his, whether he claim her or not, by resolving never to have any other man if she have not him. The speech is an impassioned rhapsody spoken rather to herself than to the bystander ; but veiled from his know- ledge by riddle-like language, and given a plausible turn to, by furnishing what may serve as the key to its ostensible subject. (25) A traitress, and a dear; his humble ambition, fc. These are specimens of the “ pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms’’ which it was then the mode to lavish upon the object of affection, in poetie and romantic language, full of whimsical antithesis and opposite sper bute, expressive of the mingled torment and joy contained in ove. (26) Christendoms. Used here for titles given in christening; what we now call ‘Christian names.’ ‘‘ Gossips” is employed as a verb, representing ‘stands sponsor or god-father for.’ (27) Show what we alone nust think. ‘Make manifest that which we must only think.’ (28) A virtue of a good wing. “A bird of a good wing’’ was a phrase signifying a bird strong in flight; which shows the point of Helena’s sarcasm. Moreover, “wing’’ was a portion of dress (an extra sleeve or sleeve ornament) in vogue during Elizabeth’s reign; and this occasions Helena to add a fleer at Parolles’ flighty and extravagant attire (to which there are several allusions during the play), in the words—“ and I like the wear well.’’ so thou wilt be capable*® of a courtier’s counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee ; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away :*’ farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so, farewell. { Hvtt. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven : the fated sky*! Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high; That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye ?* The mightiest space in fortune Nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things.” Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense ;** and do suppose What hath been cannot be:* who ever strove To show her merit, that did miss her love? The king’s disease,—my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix’d, and will not leave me.* [ Heit. SCENE II.—Paris. Flourish of cornets. Enter the Kine or France with letters; Lords and others attending. A room in the Kina’s palace. King. The Florentines and Senoys* are by the ears ; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.*® (29) So thou wilt be capable of, &c. “So” is here used in the sense of ‘if,’ ‘if so be that.’ ‘‘Capable’’ is employed in the sense of ‘susceptible,’ ‘able to receive,’ ‘of capacity to comprehend.’ See Note 20 of this Act. (30) Makes thee away. ‘ Destroys thee.’ ‘To make away with’ is still an idiom in use for ‘to murder, to kill.’ Touchstone, in his magniloquent threatenings of Audrey’s cast-off sweetheart William, Evie I kill thee, make thee away” (“As You Like It,” Act v., se. 1). (31) The fated sky. The word “fated” here gives a notable instance of Shakespeare’s arbitrary and comprehensive mode of using certain participles—arbitrary, because he makes active parti- ciples do the duty of passive ones, or passive ones do the duty of active ones; comprehensive, because he makes them elliptically and condensedly include that which would take several words to express otherwise. “‘ The fated sky’’ here means ‘the sky which dispenses or decrees fate,’ ‘the fate-ordaining sky;’ ‘that sky which, while ruling and swaying our destiny, yet leaves us free to promote our own ends by exerting our own intelligence and activity.’ (32) What power is it, fc. ‘What influence is it that makes me love one so superior to myself; causing me to discern excellence, yet leaving me unable to obtain that which I discern ?’ (33) The mightiest space in fortune, \c. ‘The widest discrepan- cies in persons of unequal wealth and condition are often brought by Nature to unite as if they were alike, and to blend as though they were innately similar.’ (34) Those that weigh their pains in sense. This phrase is so elliptically expressed, yet so comprehensive in signification, from the peculiar words used, that it affords an emphatic example of Shakespeare’s most pregnant style. It seems to us to mean ‘those persons who estimate the pains they take by the amount of trouble and suffering involved,’ and also to mean ‘those persons who calculate the difficulties of their strange attempts (unusual under- takings) by reason and common-sense probability of success. If we be told that it is singular to ascribe more than one meaning to one phrase, we reply that Shakespeare was a singular writer, and that he did give more than one meaning to one phrase, by employ- ing words that combine more condensation of significance in them- selves and in the sentences they form, than do the words of any man who ever wrote. _ (35) What hath been cannot be. So elliptical is this sentence that its meaning seems to have escaped those who assert that it is the very opposite of what the speaker intended to express; and either propose to alter, or do alter it to ‘what hath not been can’t be’ ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Act I. First Lord. So ’tis reported, sir. King. Nay, ’tis most credible; we here receive it A certainty, vouch’d from our cousin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial.” First Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv’d so” to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence. King. He hath arm’d our answer, And Florence“! is denied before he comes ;** Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part. Sec. Lord. It well may serve A nursery* to our gentry, who are sick For breathing “* and exploit. King. What’s he comes here ? Enter Bertram, Larrv, and PARouies. First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. King. Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face ; Frank* Nature, rather curious“ than in haste, - Hath well composed thee. Thy father’s moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty’s. King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship To us it appears to mean ‘ what hath been before cannot be again” The whole argument of this speech of Helena’s tends to maintain that “strange (or unusual) attempts” may seem impossible to those who see only trouble and difficulty, and who fancy that what has before happened (rarely, it is true) cannot happen again, but are not impossible to those possessed of moral courage and resolved will; that the “fated sky ” itself leaves it to ourselves to win our own aims, and that Nature herself reconciles apparent in- congruities. These are rare occurrences; but occurrences that have existed, and may exist again—for one who devoutly believes in their existence, and humbly trusts to make them truth in her own case. (36) And will not leave me. The noble mixture of spirited firm- ness and womanly modesty, fine sense and true humility, clear sagacity and absence of conceit, passionate warmth and sensitive delicacy, generous love and self-diffidence, with which Shakespeare has endowed Helena, renders her in our eyes one of the most ad- mirable of his female characters. Charles Lamb, Coleridge, Hazlitt, _ and Mrs. Jamieson have each eloquently contributed to do homage to the beauty of Helena’s character—a beauty the more conspicuous from the difficulties of the story; which demanded the combination of the utmost ardour in passion with the utmost purity and deli- cacy, the utmost moral courage and intelligence of mind with the eee modesty of nature, to complete the conformation of its reroine. (37) Senoys. Siennese; the people of a small republic, of which Sienna was the capital. (38) A braving war. ‘A mutually defiant war,’ ‘a war marked by mutual threats and affronts.’ (39) Denial. Refusal. (40) Approv’d so. So well proved. (41) Florence. The Duke of Florence. The title used thus is frequent in Shakespeare. See Note 86, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.”’ (42) Before he comes. applies to us. (43) Serve a nursery. stood between “ serve” and “a, : (44) Sick for breathing. ‘Sick for” is used for ‘sickly longing for,’ or ‘sick for want of.’ “ Breathing” means ‘exercise,’ ‘ exer- tion,’ ‘action.’ (45) Frank. Here used for freely bounteous, open-handed, generous in gifts. (46) Curious. Here used for eminently careful, scrupulously pains-taking. The word is used in one of its senses, as derived trom the Latin cura, care, concern. Before his appeal comes; or before he Elliptically expressed; ‘as’ being under- ”? Let ALS: g CALI AAA 5 pas Hh PATH fet Adiad SSS CaS SSS SSS SSIS SSS SSS SSS Sa SSS See hekgeke, SSS fF beeen es + ' i GALT Cee = SEES =a LZ) FLAS ; ~ E eae geipvccsai nse sD i ZZ Sere 3 ze I IA LS po fy, y r yer Fs oe n, i eee Gs = IN o Z S = a AEE a : ZLLZLLL LD ye AE i 2 i 5 = = Z LFA eG AH oe = / 7. === ELLIE ELE Sg TIT Z : S = : Sree Opiate 7 stip goog eZ SE GLA a API CLL AAA AP ae Ee ei ke oe ee eee oO re es o 8F = ie Ses as 5 ets a in Claes as oO Soom oo 6 me 3 qa - 3 fa ve So cafes o ma 5B | ere Be | a S = o um oS Sa { Little Helen, t, at cour Monsieur Parolles, yo Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for oO oa a pire Son i) ty esos | Ss 3 | ase | a. | ec a a a a ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 535 Scene ITTI.] First tried our soldiership! He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long ; But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. It much repairs? me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit, which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest, Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, Ere they can hide their levity in honour So like a courtier :* contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness :* if they were, His equal*® had awak’d them ; and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception® bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey’d his hand:* who were below him He us’d as creatures of another place ; 54 And bow’d his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility, In their poor praise he humbled.* Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times ; Which, followed well, would démonstrate them now But goers backward. Ber. His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb ; So in approof lives not®® his epitaph As in your royal speech. King. Would I were with him! always say (Methinks I hear him now; his plausive*? words He scatter’d not in ears, but grafted them, To grow there, and to bear,) —“ Let me not live,”— Thus his good melancholy** oft began, He would (47) Repairs. Revives, renovates. (48) Ere they can hide, 4c. This passage has been variously punctuated and interpreted. We take its meaning to be—‘ Ere they can invest the levity of a joke with the dignity that belongs to a man of high and courtly breeding.’ (49) Contempt nor bitterness were in his pride or sharpness. ‘ Neither contempt nor bitterness were in his self assertion or his sarcasm.’ “Nor” is sometimes used thus singly by Shakespeare. (50) His equal. Meaning ‘his equal in rank.’ (51) Exception. This word is employed with comprehensive force here; including both its meanings of ‘offence’ and of ‘a case specially excluded from a general rule.’ It represents that which provoked Bertram’s father to speak sharply, and the exceptional case which urged him to do so. Now, when we use “ exception ” in the sense of ‘ offence,’ ‘cavil,’ or ‘objection,’ we combine it with the words ‘take’ and ‘against’ (‘to take exception against a thing or person’); but in Shakespeare’s way of introducing an expres- sive word in an elliptically constructed sentence, he often uses it so as to give its effect without accompanying it by its usual concomitants. (52) His tongue obey’d his hand. This sentence carries on the metaphor of honour as a clock. His tongue, striking out its well- timed sharp speech, obeyed the honour-clock’s hour-hand. “ His”’ is often used by Shakespeare and writers of his time for ‘its.’ a. Who. Here used elliptically for ‘those who,’ or ‘persons who. (54) Us’d as creatures of another place. ‘Treated as beings of a different social grade.’ (55) In their poor praise he humbled. ‘In praising whom he humbled himself” The passage is so elliptically expressed, that it has been disputed as probably incorrect; but it evidently implies that in stooping to praise these lowly persons with his accustomed suavity, he seemed to place himself on their level. (56) So in approof lives not, &c. ‘The attestation of his worth exists not so strongly in his epitaph as in your -royal speech.’ “Approof” is used by Shakespeare both for “proof’ and for ‘ap- proval’ or ‘approbation ;’ and here the word seems to include the sense of both testimony and encomium. (57) Plausive. Here used for ‘ worthy of applause.’ (58) Thus his good melancholy, &c. ‘The Folio prints ‘This’ for “Thus ;’’ and is followed by several of the best editors. But ‘this’ seems to us to be a probable typographical error for “Thus; On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out,°°—“ Let me not live,” quoth he, “After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuft Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive °! senses All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments ;°* whose constancies Expire before their fashions :”’—this he wish’d: I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolvéd® from my hive, To give some labourers room. Sec. Lord. You are lov’d, sir; They that least lend it you® shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know *t.—How long is ’t, count, Since the physician at your father’s died ? He was much fam’d. Ber. Some six months since, my lord. King. If he were living, I would try him yet ;— Lend me an arm ;—the rest have worn me out With several applications :—nature and sickness Debate it® at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son’s no dearer. Ber. Thank your majesty. [| Hxeunt. Flourish. SCENE III.—-Rovsirzton. A room in the CountEss’s mansion. Enter Countess, Steward, and Clowr. Count. I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman ? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even which we think more consistent with the context, and more in the manner of Shakespeare. (59) When it was out. ‘When it was over,’ ‘when it was at an end or coneluded ;” “it”? referring to “ pastime.” (60) Snuff. Here the word means not only the burnt refuse of a wick, but is used in reference to the idiom ‘taken in snuff ;’ which signifies ‘taken in anger’ or ‘as an offence.’ See Note 33, Act v., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.’’ ae (61) Apprehensive. Used here for ‘ fastidiously perceiving,’ “squeamishly observant.’ (62) Whose judgments are mere fathers of their garments. ‘Whose poder tandiigs are of no other use than to frame new modes in ress.” (63) I, after him, do after him wish too. ‘I, living after him, do wish after his way of thinking also.’ (64) Dissolved. This word is most Shakespearianly used here; as conveying the idea of melted away from his waxen cell of life, and subjected to dissolution or death. ’ (65) Lend it you. Shakespeare often uses “lend” in the ‘sense of ‘bestow,’ ‘confer,’ ‘afford;’ here it seems to mean ‘manifest,’ ‘display,’ ‘visibly give.’ “It” is here employed, according to Shakespeare’s frequent custom, to express an implied particular, that particular being ‘love,’ implied in the preceding word “loved.’”’ “Lack,” here, has the force of ‘ feel the loss of.’ ; " ; (66) The rest, The word “physician” ‘occurring in his previous speech, the King uses “the rest” to signify the other physicians; those who have attended him. ; (67) Several applications. Various remedies, numerous experi- ments. (68) Debate it. Contend for the mastery; try which shall pre- vail; debate the question of life or death. , , (69) Even. This word has rarely been used (three times in all) by Shakespeare as a verb; but we think it should not therefore be regarded as a misprint in the present passage. On the contrary, from the rarity and peculiarity of Shakespeare’s thus using it we should rather endeavour to discover the signification he intends it to convey, than to change it for another word—some conjectural emendation. Here, “to even your content’’ may mean, ‘to keep pace with your wishes,’ ‘to act conformably with your wishes ;’ it may mean, ‘to smooth the way to your contentment,’ ‘to make the accomplishment of your desires easy ;? and it may mean, ‘to compass or achieve that which will afford you content.’ In the one 536 your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty,” and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them. Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe: ’tis my slowness that I do not; ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Acr I Clo. Ido beg your goodwill in this case. Count. In what case ? Clo. In Isbel’s case and mine own. Service is no heritage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o’ my body; for they say bearns are blessings. Count. Is this all your worship’s reason ? RAL LE, Clown. Countess. Well, sir. for I know you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries’! yours. Clo. *Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. Count. Well, sir. Clo. No, madam, ’tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are doomed: but, if I may have your ladyship’s good will to go to the world,” Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? other passage where Shakespeare uses “even”’ as a verb unaccom- panied by an adjunct (for in the third instance where he uses it as a verb it is accompanied by the word “ o’er’’), the sense will bear the same various interpretations which it will in the passage now under consideration; and it is remarkable that in both passages, the very peculiar signification which we imagine “even”’ (as a verb) may have borne—‘ compass’ or ‘achieve’—accords with the sense required in each. We shall return to this discussion, when we reach the other passage in question, and which occurs in “Cymbeline,”’ Act iii., se. 4. (70) We wound our modesty. Shakespeare’s delicate monitions ’*Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. Act I. Scene III. Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. Count. May the world know them ? Clo. Ihave been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent. Count. Thy marriage,—sooner than thy wicked- ness. Clo. Tam out o’ friends, madam ; and I hope to have friends for my wife’s sake. on the subject of self-praise are always fine and finely expressed. See Note 73, Act iii., ““ Merchant of Venice.” (71) Such knaveries. “Such knayeries’’ as occasion the “ com- plaints ” which the Countess has “heard ’’ made against Lavatch, the clown-jester. She uses “them” in Shakespeare’s elliptical way of making a relatively used pronoun refer to an implied particular; and her sentence means, ‘I know you are quite fool enough to be willing to commit these knaveries you are accused of, and not so much of a fool as to be unable to commit them.’ (72) To go tothe world. A phrase in use in Shakespeare’s time, meaning, ‘to be married.’ See Note 22, Act v., “ As You Like It.” « Scene III. ] Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clo. You’re shallow, madam, in great friends ;7 for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a-weary of. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam™ the Papist, howsome’er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one,—they may joll horns together, like any deer i’ the herd, Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave ? Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way :” For I the ballad will repeat Which men full true shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind,7¢ Count. Get you gone, sir; Tl talk with you more anon. Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you: of her I am to speak. Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen, I mean. Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,77 Why the Grecians sackéd Troy ? Fond done, done fond,’8 Was this King Priam’s joy ?79 With that she sighéd as she stood, With that she sighéd as she stood, And gave this sentence then ; Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There’s yet one good in ten.“4 Count. What! one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. (73) You’re shallow, madam, in great friends. In several editions “in” here is changed to ‘e’en;’ and there are so many instances where the word “in” is misprinted for ‘e’en,’ that the substitution is plausible. Nevertheless, we take “in” here to mean ‘in the knowledge of;’ there being a kind of playful metaphor involved in this use of the word—“ shallow in’ instead of ‘deep in’—as we find it in more than one passage of Shakespeare. (74) Poysam. Possibly a corruption of the French word poisson, fish ; in allusion to the * Papist”’ practice of abstaining from meat on fast days: while “Charbon”’ (the French word for coal and charcoal) may involve reference to the wholesale way in which “Puritan’’ preachers menaced evil-doers with what the Clown afterwards calls ‘“the great fire.” (75) The next way. ‘The nearest way;’ meaning the most direct way, the way with least of circumlocution or deviation. (76) Sings by kind. ‘Sings by nature.’ See Note 25, Act iii., “As You Like It.” (77) Quoth she. Meaning Helen, wife to Menelaus. See Note 4, Act v., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ The Clown, hearing “Helen”? named, is reminded of some old pallad upon the subject of her world-renowned namesake. (78) Fond done, done fond. Meaning, ‘done foolishly, and fondly ;’ “fond” formerly bearing the meaning of ‘foolish,’ as well as its more modern one of affectionate. It has been suggested that prob- ably the words ‘for Paris he’ formed the conclusion of this line; making the needful rhyme, and introducing the next clause of the sentence, since Paris was his father Priam’s joy. (79) King Priam’s joy? If the theory adverted to in the previous note be correct, “Was this King Priam’s joy ” becomes an asser- tion; but if these two lines of the ballad originally stood as they stand here, the sentence means, ‘Could this partner of my fond and foolish doings be King Priam’s joy ?’ (80) There’s yet one good in ten. The word “ten”’ here refers to the ten sons of. Priam who were surviving at the period in ques- tion; Agathon, Antiphon, Deiphobus, Dius, Hector, Helenus, Hip- pothous, Pammon, Paris, and Polites. Of these, none committed the flagrant act that Paris committed in carrying off Helen; and she may have been made to say in the old ballad, ‘There’s yet one worse in ten:’ since the Countess challenges the line as the Clown gives it, telling him that he “ corrupts the song. ’ (81) A purifying o’ the song. The Clown, by this expression, plays on hg Countess’s word “‘corrupt;” she meaning it in the sense ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 537 Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o’ the song:*! would Heaven would serve the world so all the year! we’d find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson: one in ten, quoth a’! an we might have a good woman born but for every blazing star,*? or at an earth- quake, *twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere a’ pluck one. Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you ? Clo. That man should be at woman’s com- mand, and yet no hurt done!—Though honesty be no Puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart.°—I am going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither. [ Heit. Count. Well, now. Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle- woman entirely. Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she’ll demand. Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates ;°* Love no god, that would not extend his might, only*® where qualities were level; Diana no*® queen of virgins, that would suffer her ot misquote,’ ‘garble,’ ‘give a wrong version of ;’ while he chooses to take it in the sense of ‘ deteriorate,’ ‘spoil,’ ‘render bad.’ This makes for our idea that the word which the Clown alters in the line is ‘worse,’ changed by him to “ good;” which he would maintain to be a bettering of the expression, while he professes his interpre- tation of ‘one good woman in ten”’ to be an improvement upon the “one worse,” implying ‘one ultra bad man.’ x (82) For every blazing star. ‘‘For’’ here is misprinted ‘ore’ in the Folio; which has been variously altered by different editors to ‘for,’ ‘fore,’ ‘ere,’ ‘on,’ ‘one, and even omitted altogether in one of the Variorum Editions. We adopt “for” as being most prob- ably the original word. (83) It will wear the surplice of humility, Gc. This passage refers to the refusal of the Puritans to wear a “surplice ;’’ who adhered solely to the “black gown,” or Geneva cassock, while the robes worn in the Established Church represented a compromise. That finely poetical writer, and exemplaryhishop, Jeremy Taylor, long after Shakespeare’s time, bitingly satirises the same virulence of opinion as to points in ecclesiastical costume, where he says, “A surplice drives them away as a bird affrighted with a man of clouts, but their consciences can suffer them to despise government, and speak evil of dignities, and curse all that are not of their opinion.” “Big,” in the present passage, is used in the sense of ‘proud,’ ‘arrogant’ (see Note 33, Act v., “Taming of the Shrew’’); forming the anti- thesis to “humility.” The Clown flippantly jokes upon the rarity of a man’s being at a woman’s command without harm done; and then goes on to figuratively assert his own honesty, which, though he confess it to be not puritanically strict, will do no harm, and will moreover consent to yield a point that the Puritans will not concede,—“ wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart;’’ or, in other words, ‘ wear a cloak of humble obedience to hide his proud sense of man’s superiority to woman.’ (84) Estates. Used for ‘ conditions.’ (85) Only. Employed here in the sense of ‘ unless,’ ‘ except,’ or ‘save;’ the meaning of the whole sentence being—‘ Love no god, who would not exert his power, excepting where stations and qualifications were equal.’ (86) Diana no. These words, omitted in the Folio, were supplied by Theobald. They have been universally accepted as the prob- able ones; and the expression ‘‘ thy virgin knight ’’ in combination with ‘‘ goddess of the night’’ in another passage by Shakespeare confirms their propriety. See Note 64, Act v., “ Much Ado.” 68 538 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. poor knight surprised,*” without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e’er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence,® in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. Count. You haye discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom ; and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you farther anon. [Hait Steward. Even so it was with me when I was young: If ever we are nature’s, these are ours ;° this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ;*° It is the show and seal of nature’s truth, Where love’s strong passion is impress’d in youth : By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults;—or then we thought them none.”! Enter Hevena. Her eye is sick on’t : I observe her now. Hel. What is your pleasure, madam ? Count. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Count. Nay, a mother : Why not a mother? When I said a mother, Methought you saw a serpent: what’s in mother, That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombéd mine : ’tis often seen Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds (87) Would suffer her poor knight surprised. Shakespeare (in common with other writers of his time) uses the verb to “suffer ” with remarkably elliptical construction of phrase. In the present passage, modern construction would require ‘to be’ inserted be- tween “knight”? and “surprised ;’? but Shakespeare leaves the words to be understood. He has a similarly constructed passage (“ Tempest,” iii. 1) where Ferdinand says, ‘Than to suffer the flesh-fly blow my mouth;” ‘to’ being understood between “ flesh- fly’ and “ blow.’’ (88) Sithence. Since. (89) If ever we are nature’s, these are ours. ‘If ever we have been thoroughly natural, or true to nature, these are our impulses.’ “These’’ is used in this sentence, as we have before pointed out that Shakespeare uses the word, to generalise an observation. See Note 43, Act iii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” It here refers to the characteristic impulses of youth which he goes on to instance; “this thorn,” &c. “This” is used in much the same way as the preceding “‘ these.” (90) Our blood to us, this to our blood is born. ‘As our blood is born (or native) to us, so is this impulse born (native) to our blood;’ “blood”’ being here used for ‘inherent quality or disposition.’ (91) By our remembrances, fc. We interpret these two concluding lines thus :—‘ By what we can remember of by-gone days, we know such to have been our own faults ;—or then we thought them not faults, but natural feelings. The condensation of ideas with elliptical construction in this speech throughout have caused it to be misunderstcod and suspected of erroneous printing, while various alterations have been proposed. But the whole soliloquy is quite in Shakespeare’s way of indicating musing self-communion; where the style is to a certain degree incoherent, imperfectly or incom- pletely expressed. It wonderfully gives the effect of broken or interrupted thought, checked by other crossing or interposing thoughts ; and of the passing of these through the mind, presented to the speaker’s imagination rather than expressed aloud. (92) Her eye is sick on’t. “On’’ was often used formerly for ‘of.’ How graphically do these few words picture Helena’s look! her eyes full of her yearning passion, her drooping lids unable to conceal the irrepressible love, her lashes heavy with sadness and (Acr I. A native slip to us from foreign seeds :% You ne’er oppress’d me with a mother’s groan, Yet I express to you a mother’s care :— God’s mercy, maiden ! does it curd thy blood, To say, Iam thy mother? What’s the matter, That this distemper’d messenger of wet, The many-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye? * Why,—that you are my daughter ? Hel. That I am not.® Count. I say, Iam your mother. Fel. Pardon, madam ; The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: Iam from humble, he from honour’d name ; No note upon my parents, his all noble: My master, my dear lord he is; and I His servant live, and will his vassal die: He must not be my brother. Count. Nor I your mother ? Hel. You are my mother, madam ;% would you were (So that my lord your son were not my brother) Indeed my mother!—or were you both our mothers,” , I care no more for than I do for Heaven, So I were not his sister. Can’t no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother ?” Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter- in-law : Heav’n shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again? My fear hath catch’d your fondness :!! now I see The mystery of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears’ head:!” now to all sense ’tis gross 108 You love my son; invention is asham’d, Against the proclamation of thy passion, late-shed tears. Into the mouths of certain of his personages Shakespeare puts apparently slight speeches, but speeches full of significance for the conduct and appearance of his other person- ages who are the subjects of these speeches. An actor or actress, who would fully impersonate any of Shakespeare’s characters, had need study all that is said of them and to them, as well as by them, in his pages. (93) And choice breeds, fc. ‘And our act of choosing generates for us an offspring from alien origin.’ (94) This distemper’d messenger, &c. It would be difficult to match the poetic beauty of the image here, presenting that rain- bow-hued moisture which swells into the eye, making it look rounder and larger through its medium. (95) That Iam not. This little monosyllabic speech, pathetic in its exquisitely simple and condensed expression, is quite in Helena’s veiledly enigmatic style. (96) You are my mother, madam. Meaning, ‘ You are a mother to me in affectionate care and kindness.’ (97) Were you both our mothers. of us.’ : (98) I cave no more for than I do for Heaven. Helena’s purposel a way of saying, ‘I care for that and for Heaven both equally.’ (99) Can’t no other, but, I, &c. ‘Can it be no otherwise than were I your daughter, he must be my brother?’ (100) So strive upon your pulse. ‘So emulatively affect your pulse ;’ “so, each in turn, make your heart beat, and your breath- ing quicken.’ While interpreting these marvellously concise expressions of our great master of condensed style, we are more and more impressed with the choice, apt, and comprehensive words he uses; which require such amplification when his diction is rendered into ordinary language. (101) My fear hath catch’d your fondness. ‘My dread of what might be true has made me discover the truth of your fond secret.’ (102) Your salt tears’ head. ‘The spring or source of your tears;’ ‘the origin of your grief.’ ? oe oe Often used by Shakespeare for ‘palpable,’ ‘obvious,’ evident.’ « ‘Were you mother to both Scenz ITT.] To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true ; But tell me then, ’tis so ;—for, look, thy cheeks Confess it, th’ one to th’ other; and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, That in their kind! they speak it: only sin And evil obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is’t so? If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue; If it be not, forswear ’t: howe’er,'’” I charge thee, As Heaven shall work in me for thine avail, To tell me truly. Hel. Good madam, pardon me ! Count. Do you love my son? Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress ! Count. Love you my son ? Hel. Do not you love him, madam ? Count. Go not about; my love hath in ’t a bond, 10% Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose The state of your affection ; for your passions Have to the full appeach’d. Hel. Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high Heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high Heaven, I love your son :— My friends were poor, but honest; so’s my love: Be not offended ; for it hurts not him, That he is lov’d of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit ; Nor would I have him till I do deserve him ; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know [I love in vain, strive against hope; (104) In their kind. ‘In their way;’ ‘according to their nature.’ (105) Howe’er. Shakespeare often uses this word elliptically. Here it means, ‘ However this may be;’ ‘however the case may stand.’ (106) Bond. Used here in the sense of ‘warrant;’ that which authorises or justifies. (107) This captious and intenible sieve. “This’’ is here used in Shakespeare’s way of employing the word to generalise an observa- tion, and in his way of making a relatively used pronoun refer to an implied particular; which implied particular in the present assage is the object upon which Helena profitlessly lavishes the Eooloas love she has been describing, figured by a “‘sieve.’’ Bear- ing in mind the peculiar way in which Shakespeare uses the word “capable” (see Note 109, Act iii., “As You Like It”), we have always felt that “captious’’ here may be explained to signify ‘capable of receiving ;’ and that “captious and intenible sieve” means ‘ sieve capable of receiving, but not of holding or retaining.’ Nevertheless, Mr. Singer’s belief that ‘‘captious’’ here is used in the sense it bears as derived from the Latin captiosus, deceitful or fallacious, leads us to entertain a strong impression that his con- jecture is correct. Moreover, there is another theory that “‘ cap- tious”’ here is but a contraction of ‘capacious.? Inasmuch as the object of Helena’s love (Bertram) might be said to be ‘capable of receiving’ love from the fact of his being in her eyes worthy of love; inasmuch as the object of her love was ‘fallacious’ and “mocked expectation; and inasmuch as it was ‘ capacious’ in the extent of its merit (according to her idea), it is just possible that, in Shakespeare’s mode of employing a word that possesses varied significations, and conveys yet another additional effect, although not distinctly expressed, he may have intended to include some- thing of all these meanings in the single word “captious”’ as here employed. (108) And lack not to lose still. This is an elliptical phrase, if it be taken to mean ‘and am not without more love in reserve to go on losing ;’ or a direct one, if the verb “lack not”’ be supposed to bear the unusual sense of ‘fail not,’ ‘cease not.’ The figure of language in this clause of Helena’s speech has allusion to the classical story of the Danaides oe called from being the daughters of Danaus) or Belides (so called from being the granddaughters of Belus), who were condemned, after death, to the fruitless task of drawing water into leaky vessels. See Note 18, Act v., “ Merchant of Venice.” (109) Cites. Here used in the sense of ‘denotes,’ ‘ bespeaks,’ © betokens,’ ‘infers,’ ‘ gives testimony of,’ ‘ gives proof of.’ (110) That your Dian was both herself and love. 'The phrase is invyolvedly constructed—* so true a flame” joining with “ that your ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 539 Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve,! I still pour in the waters of my love, And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love, For loving where you do: but, if yourself, Whose agéd honour cites! a virtuous youth, Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love ;!!° oh, then, give pity To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose But lend and give, where she is sure to lose; That seeks not to find that her!!! search implies, But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. Count. Had you not lately an intent,—speak truly,— To go to Paris ?!” Hel. Madam, I had. Count. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and prov’d effects, such as his reading And manifest !!5 experience had collected For general sovereignty ;'!4 and that he will’d me In heedfull’st reservation to bestow!” them, As notes, whose faculties inclusive were, More than they were in note :''® amongst the rest, There is a remedy, approv’d,!” set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The king is render’d lost.!'8 Dian,” &c., and not “wish”’ with “ that,’’ as (superficially viewed) seems to be the case. The paraphrase, ‘ If ever you wished chastely and loved dearly in so pure and true a flame as that your Diana was both herself and love itself,’ more directly shows the consecution of the sense in this passage. (111) To find that her. ‘To find that which her;’ ‘which’ being (elliptically) understood. (112) To go to Paris? This inquiry of the Countess’s affords an instance of Shakespeare’s admirable dramatic art. There has been no mention of Helena’s “intent to go to Paris’’ having become known to the Countess; but it was necessary that this “intent” should be discussed between them in the present scene for the fartherance of the dramatic action; and, therefore, as it would be unnatural and uncharacteristic in Helena herself to introduce the subject, the author makes the Countess advert to it as to something she has already come to the knowledge of. Her previous words to the steward, “ many likelihoods informed me of this before,’’ may well include the point in question; and Shakespeare often thus ingeniously gives a few passing words of vaguely-sounding import, but of really significant and comprehensive indication. (113) Manifest. The word has been suspected to be a misprint, and has been actually changed by some emendators to ‘ manifold.’ But, to our mind, the original word is precisely in Shakespeare’s way of using an epithet; and that “ manifest experience” here is employed to express ‘manifesting experience,’ ‘experience that manifested, made manifest or clear to his mind,’ and also ‘experience that he was manifestly known to possess.’ Moreover, it has almost the effect of ‘practical experience’ here; especially as confirmed by a passage farther on, where Helena speaks again of this subject :— “The dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling.”’ Act 11,.seale (114) For general sovereignty. ‘For sovereign remedies in various cases.’ (115) Bestow. Shakespeare sometimes uses this verb in the sense of ‘lay by,’ ‘put away,’ ‘place in security ;’ as we now say “stow away. Here it is employed for ‘ treasure up,’ ‘ carefully keep.’ (116) As notes, whose faculties, fc. ‘As notes which included more valuable properties and power to effect good than appeared therein noted down.’ (117) Approv’d. Here the word is used in both senses; it means ‘of ovndt excellence,’ and ‘ worthy of all approbation.’ : (118) Whereof the king is render’d lost. ‘Of which the king is suffering, and on account of which he is given up as lost.’ 540 ALL'S Count. This was your motive For Paris, was it ? speak. Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this ; Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, Had from the conversation!’ of my thoughts Haply Leen absent then. WELL THAT ENDS WELL. jAcr I. A poor unlearnéd virgin, when the schools, Embowell’d of their doctrine,!” have left off The danger to itself? Hel. There’s something in’t,!! More than my father’s skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified TRITON \\\\\ \ i NW NN EN ANN ) Helena. Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high Heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high Heaven, I love your son. Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposéd aid, He would receive it ? he and his physicians Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit (119) Conversation. The pertinent and poetical use which Shake- speare makes of this word here might, one would think, be sufficient refutation to those who undervalue his knowledge of classical language. ‘“‘ Conversation”’ is here employed in its sense as derived from the Latin conversatio ; which strictly means ‘turning orwhirling about,’ as well as interchanged discourse. The word in this passage has a finely-expressive effect, as conveying the whirl, the tossing to and fro in ceaseless secret discussion of Helena’s toiling “thoughts.” (120) Embowell’d of their doctrine. ‘Their most vital learning and knowledge being drawn forth to judge the case.’ (12i) There’s something in’t. ‘In’t’’ has been changed by most editors to ‘hints,’ as suggested by Warburton, and adopted by Hanmer. The substitution is plausible; but Shakespeare always uses “ hint’’ as a noun, never asa verb. In the next place, ‘some- thing hints’ does not cohere so well with “ my father’s skill,” while “something in’t’’ precisely suits. Farther, “something in’t” is an expression that we meet with again in this play (Act iv., se. 3) Act IT. Scene III. By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour But give me leave to try success,!”” ’d venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace’s cure By such a day and hour. and in “ Twelfth Night,’ Act iv., sc. 3; and it has the true smack of Shakespeare’s style, which, to our ear, ‘something hints’ has. not. Moreover, it is thoroughly in character with Helena’s diction, which is markedly succinct, compressed, self-restrained ; em- phatic, but so concentrated as to be barely expressed; just that mode of speech that belongs to one eager and warm by nature, but difident and undemonstrative by habit; one wholly engrossed with an absorbing passion, yet accustomed to stifle its outward betrayals; one strong in feeling, but abstinent in words. Here, her force of belief in her secret conviction, struggling with her unwillingness to speak too sanguinely, cramps her utterance, and what she has to say comes forth in a breathless, earnest way, indicated by the manner of the writing. ‘Persuades me,’ ‘ war- rants me in thinking,’ or some such clause of the sentence, needed perhaps in strict construction, seems to us to be understood and elliptically conveyed between ‘‘in’t”’ and “that’’ here. (122) To try success. ‘‘Success’’ is here used for that which in rn vt King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? Helena. Ay, my good lord. Act IT. Scene I. * - - i en ee eee er cine Scrnz I] Count. Dost thou believe ’t ? Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.'* Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, and love, Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 543 To those of mine in court :'4 I'll stay at home, And pray God’s blessing into thy attempt :!” Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [ Hxeunt. PAC). Loe lb. SCENE I.—Parts. Flowrish. Enter Kixe, with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; Brrrram, PaRroLuEs, and Attendants. King. Farewell, young lord;! these warlike principles Do not throw from you:—and you, my lord, fare- well :— Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as ’tis receiv’d, And is enough for both. First Lord. It is our hope, sir, After well-enter’d soldiers,’ to return And find your grace in health. King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes® the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords ; Whether [I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy* (Those ’bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy) * see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when The bravest questant® shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. Sec. Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty ! King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them: A room in the Krne’s palace. succeeds, follows, or happens—the issue or consequence; as the Italians use their word successo. But “try success’’ also implies ‘try for success.’ ‘ (123) Ay, madam, knowingly. Here is one of Helena’s characteris- tically condensed speeches; it implies the knowledge she has of her full belief, the knowledge she has that her father’s “skill’”’ and his “good receipt’”’ are super-excellent, the knowledge that she is capable of carrying out her plan, the knowledge that she places her reliance devoutly and duly whence alone she expects the crowning of her trust. (124) Those of mine in court. ‘Those who belong to me, living at court ;’ the Countess’s “ kinsmen” whom she afterwards thus more specially mentions (Act ii., se. 2). (125) Pray God’s blessing into thy attempt. “‘ Into’’ was sometimes used by writers of Shakespeare’s time where now we should use *‘unto;’ and in the present passage “into” has more fervour of effect than ‘unto’ would have. The Countess’s warmth of consent to Helena’s “attempt,’’ and cordial sympathy with her hopes, is just that sort of response which testifies to the high confidence and lofty courage glowing in the young gitl’s appeal. (1) Young lord. ‘ Lord,”’ in this line and the next, is printed in the Folio ‘lords;’ but the word “ both” in this speech seems to show that it is addressed to two persons only, and not to two sets of ersons. 4 (2) After well-enter’d soldiers. Elliptically expressed—as ‘ being’ is understood between “after” and ‘‘ well-enter’d.” (3) He owes. “He” used for ‘it;’ “owes” for ‘owns.’ The sentence means, ‘ My heart will not succumb to the malady that is They say, our French lack language to deny, If they demand: beware of being captives, Before you serve.7 Both Lords. Our hearts receive your warnings. King. Farewell. [Retires to a couch, beckoning Attendants. | Come hither to me. First Lord. Oh, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us ! Par. *Tis not his fault, the spark. Sec. Lord. Oh, ’tis brave wars ! Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars. Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with,°— “Too young,” and “the next year,” and “’tis too early.” Par. An thy mind stand to ’t, boy, steal away bravely. Ber. Ishall stay here, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with!® By Heaven, I'll steal away. First Lord. There’s honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count. Sec. Lord. I am your accessary; and so, fare- well. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tor- tured body.” First Lord. Farewell, captain. undermining my life.’ The phrase, ‘keep a good heart,’ for ‘ keep up your spirits or courage,’ is still in use. (4) Higher Italy. 'This has been explained to mean ‘Upper Italy ;’ that portion of Italy where the “ braving war’’ between the “Florentines and Sennoys”’ then raged. But we incline to think “let higher Italy”? means ‘let the noblest of Italy ;’ ‘let the worthiest among Italians.’ The king excepts those who have lost their claim to be ranked among the noble and worthy of Italy by inheriting the degeneracy of the fallen and degraded Romans. (5) Those *bated that inherit but the fall of the last monarchy. “°Bated’’ is here used in the sense of ‘ excepted,’ ‘omitted.’ See Note 31, Act i., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” ‘The fall of the last monarchy” clearly alludes to the fall of the Roman Empire, and means the degradation of the Romans, who had forfeited their ancient dignity and pre-eminence as chief and noblest among Italians. (6) Questant. Seeker, searcher, endeavourer. (7) Captives, before you serve. There is an elegant pun here; “serve” being used for ‘serve as soldiers,’ and in its sense as derived from the Latin servitus, ‘slavery,’ ‘ bondage,’ ‘thraldom.’ (8) Kept a coil with. “ Coil’’ is ‘turmoil,’ ‘noisy disturbance.’ See Note 23, Act i., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.’’ The construction here is just the irregular one that a person speaking in petulance and vexation would use; “‘I am kept a coil with,” instead of ‘a coil kept up with me.’ (9) No sword worn but one to dance with. It was the custom in Shakespeare’s time for gentlemen to wear their swords when dancing; and a lighter kind of weapon than the one used in fighting was worn on the occasion. (10) Our parting is a tortured body. Since Bertram has said he 544. ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Sec. Lord. Sweet Monsieur Parolles ! Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals :!!—you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio,! with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek ; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me. Sec. Lord. We shall, noble captain. Par. Mars dote on you for his [Hxeuwnt Lords.] What will you do? Ber. Stay; the king ¥’— Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them: for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell. { Ber. And TI will do so. Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove'’ most sinewy sword-men. [Hzewnt Bertram and Parouns, novices ! Enter Larev. Laf. (Kneeling.| Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. King. Tl see thee to stand up.” Laf. Then here’s a man _ stands, brought his pardon,!® that has “ orows to’’ his friend, so their separation is a tortured pody under- going dismemberment and being rent asunder. (11) Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals. This redupli- cated form of address, this heaping up of flattering titles, this accumulation of vapouring epithets, is just in character with the wordy Parolles; whose name, as appropriated to him by Shake- speare, is significant, and is derived from the French paroles, words. (12) Captain Spurio. By the very name here given, Shakespeare has indicated this personage to be a mere sham or invention of Parolles. In Florio’s Dictionary spurio is explained, ‘“‘one base born; used also for a counterfeit.’ Our word “spurious,” in the sense of ‘ false,’ ‘ungenuine,’ shows the meaning. (13) Stay; the king— In the Folio this is printed as one sen- tence, ‘Stay the king.’ Most modern editors print it as in the text, adding the stage direction (seeing him rise). But we take it to represent Bertram’s state of mind, who thinks he will by-and-by “steal away ;’’ but meantime stays, because the king has expressed favour towards him (“ Welcome, count, my son’s no dearer,’ Act i., se. 2), and because he “must attend his Majesty's command, to whom’”’ he is “now in ward, evermore in subjection,’’ Act i., se. 1. Bertram answers Parolles’ question by the word “‘stay;”’ and is about to add an explanation of his motive, when Parolles interrupts by bidding him first take a more ample and becoming leave of the departing lords. (14) List. Used for ‘limit,’ ‘boundary.’ (15) They wear themselves in the cap of the time. In Parolles’ fantas- tical style of expressing himself, this may mean, ‘they dress in the height of the fashion,’ or, ‘they take station in the highest ranks of modish society ;’ so, “ muster true gait’’ (“they”’ being understood as repeated before “ muster”) means ‘assemble with the conven- tionally right deportment or style of walking;’ “the most received star’? means, the ‘person best accepted as a setter of fashions;’ and “lead the measure” means, ‘lead off the dance that these people keep up,’ “such”? standing for ‘such people’ or “such persons. (16) Like to prove. ‘Likely to prove.’ (17) P'U see thee to stand wp. The Folio word “see” has been altered here to ‘ fee,’ ‘sue,’ &c., by those who find a difficulty in the passage as originally printed. T'o our mind “I'll see thee to stand up’’ is no more than a simple command on the part of the king, as if he had said, ‘I'll see thee stand up ere I’ll grant thy pardon or hear thy tidings.’ lLafeu’s word “bidding,” immediately after- wards, seems to us to demonstrate this. Moreover, there are other instances of “to” used thus before a verb, where, ordinarily, it is omitted: for example, in this very play, we find, “And what would you have me to do?” Act v., se. 2. [Acr IT T would you had kneel’d, my lord, to ask me mercy ; And that, at my bidding, you could so stand up. King. I would I had; so I had broke” thy pate, And ask’d thee mercy for ’t. Laf. Good faith, across: but, my good lord, *tis thus ; Will you be cur’d of your infirmity ? King. No. Laf. Oh, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox ? Yes, but you will, my noble grapes,” an if My royal fox could reach them : I have seen A medicine” that’s able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary * With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise** King Pepin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in ’s hand, And write to her a love-line.” King. What her is this ? Laf. Why, doctor she: my lord, there’s one arriv’d, If you will see her :—now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that, in her sex, her years, profession,” Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz’d me more Than I dare blame my weakness :*” will you see her (For that is her demand), and know her business ? That done, laugh well at me. (18) Brought his pardon. ‘ Brought” here has been altered to ‘bought’ by Theobald and others; but “brought his pardon”’ we think means, ‘brought his pardon with him,’ or, ‘brought that which will secure his pardon;’ alluding to Helena, who has accom- panied him, and is waiting to be introduced to the royal presence. (19) SoI had broke. ‘Sothat Ihad broken. “So” is sometimes used by Shakespeare in this sense. (20) Across. The king’s word “broke” suggests to Lafeu the expression of the tilt-yard, ‘ broken across,’ which meant a dis- gracefully unskilful stroke with the lance, and was figuratively applied to an unsuccessful hit in word-tilting. See Note 22, Act v., © Much Ado.” (21) My noble grapes. If the emphasis be laid on “my’’ in these words, it shows the meaning of the passage, which is somewhat obscured by the repetitions of “my” occurring therein. Lafeu means ‘those grapes that I have to offer.’ In other of Shake- speare’s passages, by laying emphasis on a particular word, we gain the clue to his precise meaning. See Note 29, Act iii., “ Merchant of Venice;” and Note 41, Acti., “As You Like It.” (22) A medicine. The sweet-tempered old lord, wishing to en- liven his royal master, and inspire him with something of the vivacity and hope that he himself feels in the prospect of possible help and cure, heaps up allusion and metaphor in gay abundance. Here he figuratively calls Helena “a medicine,”’ because she brings remedial aid, and comes as a healer of the sick. (23) Canary. The name of a lively dance. See Note 5, Act iii., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (24) Araise. This form of ‘raise’ being unusual, gives well the effect that the poet here intends to convey, ‘ raise from the dead,’ ‘raise to life again.’ (25) And write to her a love-line. The construction is here so elliptical that some have proposed to transpose the “to” and the “and? which commence the two last lines of the speech, while others have believed that something has been omitted from the passage in printing the original. But if ‘make him’ or “enable him to’ be understood between “‘and” and “‘write,’’ the sentence is not more condensedly expressed than many in this play. See Note 121, Act i, and Notes 2 and 27, Act ii. The old courtier’s allusion to King Pepin and his renowned son Charlemagne, is most characteristic here; addressing a king of France, he refers to two of his celebrated predecessors. Moreover, the poet’s touch. re- specting the “pen” is thoroughly illustrative of historical fact, since Charlemagne, though an admirer and patron of learning, tried in vain to acquire the art of writing. (26) Profession. That which she professes to be able to do. (27) Hath amaz’d me more, &c. One of the abstrusely expressed Scene [.] King. Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration ;* that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wondering how thou took’st it. Laf. Nay, Ill fit you, And not be all day neither. [ Heit. King. Thus he his special nothing ever pro- logues. Re-enter Larev, with HELENA. Laf. Nay, come your ways. King. This haste hath wings indeed. Laf. Nay, come your ways ; This is his majesty, say your mind to him: A traitor you do look like; but such traitors” His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid’s uncle,” That dare leave two together ; fare you well. [ Eztt. King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us ? Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father ; In what he did profess, well found.*! King. I knew hin. Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him ; Knowing him is enough. On ’s bed of death Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling, He bade me store up, as a triple eye,*” Safer than mine own two, more dear: I have so: And, hearing your high majesty is touch’d With that malignant cause, wherein the honour Of my dear father’s gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness. King. We thank you, maiden ; But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learnéd doctors leave us, and The congregated.college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom Nature From her inaidable estate,—I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our®® past-cure malady To émpirics; or to dissever so passages in this play. We interpret it to mean, ‘hath filled me with more well-grounded astonishment than with weak credulity deserving blame.’ (28) Bring in the admiration. It is pleasant to see how the playful style of the faithful Lafeu has infected his master with a kindred ‘light deliverance” in speech; for here he impersonates this young lady who has caused such admiring description in the epithet “admiration.” (29) A traitor you do look like; but such traitors, &c. The word “traitor,” as used in this line, shows it to have been a title of sportive compliment and fondness given to women; as ‘rogue,’ ‘ villain,’ ‘ wretch,’ &c., are still interchanged between lovers. See Note 25, Act i. (30) Cressid’s uncle. Pandarus, who introduced Troilus, and favoured his suit, to his niece. (31) Well found. Thoroughly skilled, well grounded in the knowledge of. The idiomatic expression “ well found,” we take to be akin to “well seen’’ (see Note 86, Act i. “Taming of the Shrew ’’), and not to mean well appreciated, well renowned, or of known and acknowledged excellence, as some have explained it. (32) Triple eye. Used here for ‘third eye.’ “Store up,’’ in this line, serves to illustrate the use of the word “bestow,’’ as explained in Note 115, Acti. ‘ (33) To prostitute our. ‘As’ is understood before “to’’ here, and also before “to esteem ’’ in the next line but one. (34) A modest one. ‘A moderately favourable thought.’ am erence eee ara eee ee ee a ee 69 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 545 Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. Hel. My duty, then, shall pay me for my pains: IT will no more enforce mine office on you; Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one,* to bear me back again. King. I cannot give thee less, to be call’d grateful : Thou thought’st to help me; and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live: But, what at full I know, thou know’st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art. Hel. What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest® ’gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minister : So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes ;*° great floods have flown From simple sources ;*” and great seas have dried, When miracles have by the greatest been denied.** Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.°? King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid ; Thy pains, not us’d, must by thyself be paid : Proffers not took, reap thanks for their reward. Hel. Inspiréd merit so by breath is barr’d : It is not so with Him that all things knows, As *tis with us that square our guess by shows ;” But most it is presumption in us when The help of Heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent ; Of Heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim ;*! But know I think, and think I know most sure,” My art is not past power, nor you past cure. King. Art thou so confident? within what space Hop’st thou my cure ? Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,* Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring (35) Set wp your rest. ‘Make up your mind,’ “aro determined or convinced.’ See Note 30, Act iv., “Comedy of Errors.” (36) When judges have been babes. An allusion to Matthew xi. 25 and 1 Cor. i. 27. ; (37) Great floods have flown from simple sources. In reference to Moses’ smiting the rock in Horeb. (38) Great seas have dried, when miracles, &c. Alluding to the children of Israel passing the Red Sea when miracles had been denied by Pharaoh. (39) Fits. The Folio prints ‘shifts, “which was altered by Pope to “sits,” and by Theobald to “fits.” The rhyme and sense require either of the latter words; and we think “fits” more likely to have been the original MS. word, since the ‘‘f”’ in “ fits’’ occurs in the Folio “shifts ;’’ moreover, Shakespeare elsewhere (Sonnet cxx.) uses “fits’’ (in the sense of ‘ befits’ or ‘ suits’) as a rhyme to “ hits.” (40) Square our guess by shows. ‘Form our conjectures according to appearances.’ (41) Proclaim myself against the level of mine aim. We take this to mean, ‘proclaim myself as being of equal importance with the object I hope to achieve.’ (42) But know I think, and think I know most sure. ‘But I know that I think, and think that I know most surely.’ The phrase is akin in style to the one explained in Note 25, Act v., “As You Like It.” (43) The greatest grace lending grace. ‘ Divine grace vouchsafing its gracious influence.’ 546 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ; Ere twice in murk* and occidental damp Moist Hesperus* hath quench’d his sleepy lamp ; Or four and twenty times the pilot’s glass * Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass ; What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. King. Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar’st thou venture? Hel. ’ Tax of impudence,— A wanton’s boldness, a divulgéd shame,— Tradue’d by odious ballads; my maiden’s name Sear’d otherwise; nay, worse of worst, extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended.” King. Methinks in thee some blesséd spirit doth speak, His powerful sound within an organ weak :* And what impossibility would slay” In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear; for all, that life can rate Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate,°°— Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime®! can happy call: Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.” Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death, if I die. Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke,*® unpitied let me die; And well deserv’d:** not helping, death’s my fee ; But, if I help, what do you promise me? King. Make thy demand. Hel. But will you make it even?® King. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.*® Hel. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: (44) Murk. Dark. This finely poetical word has a grand effect in this finely poetical passage. It is worthy of note, how the diction of Helena warms into glowing beauty and expansion, as she permits herself to launch into persuasive eloquence. (45) Hesperus. 'The evening star. We can hardly too much praise the epithets “moist” and “ sleepy ” here. (46) The pilots glass. The hour-glass. See Note 43, Act i., “Tempest.” (47) Nay, worse of worst, &c. In the Folio this is printed ‘ne worse of worst,’ &c., which word, ‘ne,’ has been variously altered to ‘nay,’ ‘no,’ ‘nor,’ ‘the,’ &ce. ‘ Nay” appears to us to be best fitted to the sense of the passage, and to be most in conformity with Shakespeare’s style, as in this very scene he has, “nay, to give great Charlemain,”’ &c. (48) His powerful sound within, &c. The “doth speak” of the previous line gives tie effect of ‘speaking’ being understood between “sound’’ and “ within.” (49) What impossibility would slay, &c. ‘That which in ordinary reason would seem destroyed as impossible, is yet by other reason- ing saved as probable.’ (50) In thee hath estimate. ‘In thee may be reckoned;’ ‘in thee are included.’ By the employment of the word “estimate’’ here, the effect moreover is given, of ‘in thee hath estimable existence.’ (51) Prime. The spring of life, the blossoming season of exist- ence. (52) Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. The construction here is, as in very many passages of this play, peculiarly elliptical; ‘thy possession of’ being understood before “ skill,’ and ‘thy being’ before “monstrous.’’ We the rather point it out in this passage, because other editors have made no remark upon it here; whereas, they have objected to other passages as being corrupt, which (to our minds) are only constructed in the same style of ellipsis that characterises the present one. (53) Flinch in property of what I spoke. “Property’’ here has been said to mean ‘due performance;’ but to us it seems to be used rather in its stricter sense of ‘ that which is proper to or belonging jAcr IL Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image” of thy state ; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. King. Here is my hand; the premises observ’d Thy will by my performance shall be serv’d: So make the choice of thy own time; for I, Thy résolv’d patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must,— Though more to know could not be more to trust,— From whence thou cam’st, how tended on: but rest Unquestion’d welcome, and undoubted blest.— [To Attendants.| Give me some help here, ho!— [Yo Hetena.] If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. (Flourish. Hxeunt. SCENE II.—Rovsttiton. eee rae : 2 ERE 70 Scene III] A counterpoise; if not to thy estate, A balance more replete. !” Ber. I take her hand. King. Good fortune and the favour of the king Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, ! And be perform’d to-night: the solemn feast Shali more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends.''!° As thou lov’st her, Thy love’s to me religious; else, does err." [Hxeunt Kine, Berrram, Hexena, Lords, and Attendants. Laf. Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. Par. Your pleasure, sir? Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. Par. Recantation !—My lord! my master ! Laf. Ay; is it not a language I speak ? Par. A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master ! Laf. Are you companion to the Count Rousillon ? Par. To any count,—to all counts,—to what is man. Laf. To what is count’s man: count’s master is of another style. Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man;1!” to which title age cannot bring thee. ! Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries,! to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee!’ did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. (108) More replete. ‘More than fully equivalent.’ This speech helps to show the condensed meaning in the passage explained in Note 101 of this Act. (109) Hapedient on the now-born brief. Shakespeare generally uses the word “ brief’’ (when as a noun) for a note containing a short account (see Note 10, Act v., “Midsummer Night’s Dream ”); and in the last scene of the present play he uses “ brief” for a short speech. “Brief” is explained by Cowel to be “ any precept of the king in writing, issuing out of any court, whereby he com- mands anything to be done.’’ We, therefore, believe that “ brief” here is used to express the spoken warrant, precept, or command issued by the king himself at the moment; and we take the whole passage to mean, ‘the ceremony of which contract shall seem expedient to follow immediately on this our now given command, and shall be performed to-night.’ Shakespeare usually includes the sense of ‘expedition,’ ‘haste,’ ‘ quickness,’ in his use of the word “‘ expedient.” (110) The solemn feast, &c. ‘The feast in solemnisation of the nuptials shall be deferred till a later period, when we may expect the presence of friends now absent.’ (111) As thou lov’st her, thy love’s to me religious ; else, does err. © According as thou loy’st her, thy love (or loyalty) to me will be faithfully and duly paid; otherwise, it strays from me.’ “ Re- ligious’’ is here used in its sense of ‘faithful,’ ‘strict,’ ‘ exact,’ ‘with integrity,’ ‘with accurate fulfilment of promise ;’ as one of the senses of the Latin word religiosus. And Shakespeare often employs “err” in its sense of ‘wander,’ ‘ramble,’ ‘deviate,’ or ‘stray.’ (112) I write man. This is an idiom similar to the one pointed out in Note 81 of this Act. “I write man’’ signifies ‘I give evi- dence of the right to be called a man,’ ‘I show that I am worthy to be styled a man,’ ‘I may proclaim myself to be a man.’ (113) To which title age cannot bring thee. 'The epigrammatic neatness of this sarcasm recalls that equally pithy one by Jeremy Taylor, who says—“ Some are called at age at fourteen, some at one-and-twenty, some never.” These quintessentialised witticisms of great writers partake of the nature of Irish bulls; they state an impossibility, but they imply a keen truth. (114) For two ordinaries. An “ordinary” is a meal furnished at an inn or tavern in a public room, much like what the French call a table d’héte ; therefore Lafeu means, ‘I thought thee, when ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 555 I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not :1'° yet art thou good for nothing but taking up 317 and that thou’rt scarce worth. Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,— Laf. Donot plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial ;8 which if—'® Lord have mercy on thee for a hen!'° So, my good window of lattice,! fare thee well: thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. , ee Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it. Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not bate thee a scruple. Par. Well, I shall be wiser. Laf. Een as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack!” 0’ the contrary. If ever thou be’st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say, in the default,! he is a man I know. Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. Laf. I would it were rack-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past; as I will by thee,!* in what motion age will give me leave. [ Hxit. Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis- grace off me: scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord !!%— Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. Il beat him, by my life, if I can meet : ue dined with thee at a public table, a moderately wise ellow. (115) The scarfs and the bannerets about thee. One of the allusions to Parolles’ flaunting style of dress, mentioned in Note 28, Act i., as occurring several times during the play. (116) I have now found thee; when I lose thee, &c. “Found”’ is here used as we now use ‘found out;’ and “lose thee’’ forms a pun, in the sense of ‘lose the clue to thy character,’ and ‘no longer have thee near me.’ (117) Taking wp. Used punningly in the quadruple sense of ‘picking from off the ground,’ ‘arresting, or taking into custody,’ “borrowing money upon as a commodity,’ and ‘snubbing, repri- manding, or calling to account.’ (118) Trial. Used here for a duel, or trial by combat, and for “an examination into grounds of merit.’ (119) Which if. A broken-off phrase, implying ‘which if it come.’ (120) A hen. ‘A hen-hearted fellow ;’ ‘ chicken-hearted ’ is still in common use. (121) Window of lattice. Lafeu here infers a sneer at Parolles’ low-lived ways, as though he frequented such haunts as public- houses and taverns; “lattice” being used as a distinctive mark oe the windows of ale-houses. See Note 35, Act ii., “Merry ives.” (122) Smack. Tincture, twang, flavouring quality; touch, char- acterising quality. (123) In the default. This has been said by Johnson, and by others after him, to mean ‘at a need.’ But we think that, in Shakespeare’s way of using legal expressions, he may have used “in the default’’ to signify either ‘in case of thy not appearing to answer for thyself,’ or ‘in case of sufficient testimony of thy real character not appearing ;’ because Cowel explains ‘“‘default’’ (in law) to mean—‘ Non-appearance in court at a day assigned.” (124) I am past; as I will by thee. This passage affords an in- stance of Shakespeare’s mode of construction; ‘‘ past’? having occurred in the first clause of the sentence, “as I will by thee” gives “pass” to be understood between ‘“‘will” and “by.” The old lord, hastily brushing past the object of his disgust while he speaks, gives practical illustration of his punning words. (125) Scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord. By the mere repetition of this epithet, ‘‘scurvy,’’ here, and by the sputtered broken sentence 056 him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than IT would have of—I’ll beat him, an if I could but meet him again. Re-enter Larev. Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master’s married ; there’s news for you: you have a new mistress. Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs; he is my good lord :6 whom I serve above is my master. Laf. The devil it is that’s thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o’ this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I’d beat thee: methinks thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee: I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. 1*7 Par. lord. Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate ;'° you area vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you com- mission. 22 You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave. I leave you. [ Ewit. Par. Good, very good; itis so then :—good, very good; let it be concealed awhile. This is hard and undeserved measure, my Re-enter Bertram. Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! Par. What’s the matter, sweetheart ? Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, !*° T will not bed her. Par. What! what! sweetheart ? Ber. Oh, my Parolles, they have married me !— I'll go to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man’s foot: to the wars ! »” —“TT] have no more pity of his age than I would have of how well Shakespeare has given the effect of the impotent rage, the fuming aggravation, and teeth-grinding threats of Parolles, when left alone; and then the exquisite comedy touch of “Tl beat him, an if I could but meet him again,’’ followed up by the imme- diate re-entrance of Lafeu. (126) He is my good lord. ‘He is my patron,’ “my benefactor.’ ‘To be a good lord to one’ was an idiomatic phrase for affording patronage or protection, for being favourable towards a person. In “A Hundred Merry ales’’ there is a passage that illustrates this :—‘‘ They all desired the bishop to be good lord unto him for his merry conceits; at which earnest entreaty, the bishop was content to take him into his favour again.” (127) To breathe themselves upon thee. “ Breathe”’ is here used in the sense of ‘exercise.’ See Note 49, Acti., “As You Like It.” (128) Beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate. Being soundly thrashed for so trivial an offence, not only serves to indicate Lafeu’s hint that Parolles would tamely suffer a cudgel- ling, but includes a by-allusion to his spydom and his tale-bearing ; since in the classical story of Proserpine, Ascalaphus was turned into an owl for blabbing that she had eaten a few pomegranate seeds in the shades below, and thereby forfeited the chance of returning to heaven with her mother Ceres. (129) Than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commis- sion. Inthe Folio “heraldry” and “commission”’ are transposedly printed. Hanmer made the change in the succession of the two words, and he has been followed by several of the best editors. The meaning of the passage, as it now stands, is—‘ Than the coat of arms belonging to such birth and virtue as yours gives you warrant for.’ ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Acr II. Ber. There’s letters from my mother: what the import is, I know not yet. Par. Ay, that would be known. my boy, to the wars ! He wears his honour in a box unseen, That hugs his kicky-wicky!*! here at home, Spending his manly fervour on her charms, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars’s fiery steed. To other regions ! France is a stable; we that dwell in’t jades ; Therefore, to the war ! Ber. It shall be so: I'll send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled; write to the king That which I durst not speak: his present gift To the wars, Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, Where noble fellows strike :!°* war is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife. !°* Par. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure ? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. : T’ll send her straight away: to-morrow I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. Par. Why, these balls bound; there’s noise in it.—’Tis hard : A young man married is a man that’s marr’d :™ Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: The king has done you wrong; but, hush, ’tis so. [| Hxeunt. SCENE IV.—Paris. Enter Hetena and Clown. Another room in the palace. Hel. My mother greets me kindly : is she well? Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her health: she’s very merry ; but yet she isnot well: but thanks be given, she’s very well, and wants nothing 7 the world; but yet she is not well. Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she’s not very well? (130) Before the solemn priest I have sworn. By the introduction of the word “solemn” here, instead of its equivalents, ‘grave,’ ‘serious,’ ‘sacerdotally impressive,’ Shakespeare gives the effect of ‘ solemnly sworn’ to the verb “sworn.” It is most characteristic in the diction of one so agitated as Bertram is, that the expression should be thus involved; and in other passages Shakespeare .has this peculiarity in style, of giving additional effect by the introduc- tion of a particular word. See Note 48, Act iv., “ As You Like The (131) Kicky-wicky. In a note upon this word, Mr. Singer men- tions that “‘ Alex. tivernts in one of his plays, uses it for an unruly jade ;’’? and the words “ steed” and “‘jades ” in the present. speech make for the supposition that it was generally thus applied. The coarse Parolles employs it as a synonyme for ‘ wife.’ (132) His present gift shall furnish me, fc. Not only does Bertram meanly leave in writing that which he dares not say to his royal benefactor, but he uses his “ gift’ as a means of forsaking him, and of pursuing the contrary course to that which the king desires he should adopt. With thorough consistency in every point of their character and conduct, does Shakespeare draw his person- ages. (133) War is no oye to the dark, &c. Here “to” has the force of ‘compared with.’ For a similar ellipsis of comparison, see Note 26, Act ii., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.’ “Dark house”’ is used to express ‘the house made cheerless and gloomy by dislike and discontent.’ In the Folio, ‘detected’ is vrinted instead of “de- tested ;’’ Rowe’s correction. (134) A young man married is a man that’s marr’d. A pun of similitude in sound between “‘ married” and “ marr’d”’ is more ao once met with in Shakespeare. See Note 8, Act i., “ Merry ives.’ Scene IV. | Clo. Truly, she’s very well indeed, but for two things. Hel. What two things ? Clo. One, that she’s not in heaven, whither Heaven send her quickly! the other, that she’s in earth, from whence Heaven send her quickly ! Bertram. I leave you to your wisdom. Enter ParouuEs. Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still—Oh, my knave,— how does my old lady ? Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say. Par. Why, I say nothing. ; Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man’s tongue shakes out his master’s undoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have (135) Found thee. “Found” is here used as in the passage explained in Note 116 of this Act; but the Clown answers it as if it were used in the more usual way. (136) The search, sir, was, ¥c. In the Folio these words begin a fresh speech; but inasmuch as the same prefix of Clo. is given to each of the two speeches into which the present one is there ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 557 nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. Par. Away! thou’rt a knave. Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thow’rt a knave; that’s, before me thou’rt a knave: this had been truth, sir. This to my mother: *T will be two days ere I shall see you; so, Act II. Scene V. Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee. 1% Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was pro- fitable ;8° and much fool may you find in you, even to the world’s pleasure, and the increase of laughter. Par. A good knave, i’ faith, and well fed.¥’— Madam, my lord will go away to-night ; A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknow- ledge ; But puts it off to a compell’d restraint ;** divided, and as the sense is complete as it here stands, there is every probability that the division is a mere misprint. (137) Well fed. We take this to mean ‘well trained,’ ‘well taught’ his tricks of word-catching as a professional jester. See Note 58 of this Act. (138) Puts it off to a compell’d restraint. This may either mean— 558 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Whose want, and whose delay,!® is strew’d with sweets, !#° Which they distil now in the curbéd time, '! To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim. Hel. What’s his will else ? Par. That you will take your instant leave 0’ the king, And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strenethen’d with what apology you think May make it probable need. !” Hel. What more commands he? Par. That, having this obtain’d,'* you presently Attend his farther pleasure. Hel. In everything I wait upon his will. Par. Ishall report it so. Hel. I pray you.—Come, sirrah. [| Exeunt. SCENE V.—Another room in the palace. Enter Larev and Bertram. Laf. soldier. Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.1* Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. Ber, And by other warranted testimony. Laf. Then my dial goes not true: I took this lark for a bunting.” Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly ™* valiant. Laf. I have, then, sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes: I pray you, make us friends ; I will pursue the amity. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a ‘Defers it in submission to a compulsory restriction ;’ or, ‘defers it to an enforced limitation of period.’ It is even possible that “puts off’ has here the force of ‘ shifts,’ ‘ changes.’ (139) Whose want, and whose delay. ‘The want of which, and delay of which;’ in reference to the “ love.’ (140) Sweets. The sweets of anticipation. (141) Which they distil now in the curbed time. “They ” refers to “want” and “delay;” “curbed time” means the time during which the ‘ restriction’ is to endure, or the time until the ‘ limita- tion’ of period shall arrive. (142) Make it probable need. ‘Make it wear the appearance of arising from necessity.’ (143) Having this obtain’d. “This”? (in Shakespeare’s way of making a relatively-used pronoun refer to an implied particular) refers to the king’s permission to depart, with the understanding that it is her own wish to go. (144) Of very valiant approof. This phrase elliptically includes both the senses in which the word “‘approof”’ is used by Shake- speare; that of ‘approbation’ and ‘proof.’ “Of very valiant approof’’ means ‘much approved for his yalour,’ and ‘ proved to be very valiant.’ (145) I took this lark for a bunting. “A bunting’’ is a bird having some resemblance to a sky-lark, but without the fine song that gives the latter his excellence. ‘‘ A bunting,’’ moreover, is said to have little caution, readily entering the snare set for it. The taking one bird for another was typical of ignorance (see Note 22, Act ii, “Taming of the Shrew”); and Lafeu affects to acknow- ledge having made an error in judgment. (146) Accordingly. Here used for ‘accordantly,’ ‘proportionably.’ (147) Who's his tailor? Lafeu has tried to overcome his nausea at Parolles, promising “to pursue the amity;’’ but the mere sight of the reptile revives his repugnance, and he takes up the words, “These things shall be done,” as if they were those of a lackey come to tell his master that the errand upon which he had been prerogative and rite of (Acr IL. Enter ParouueEs. Par. [To Bur.] These things shall be done, sir. af. Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor ? 7 Par. Sir? Laf. Oh, I know him well, I,™* sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor. Ber, [Aside to Parouzs.]| Is she gone to the king? Par. She is. Ber. Will she away to-night ? Par. As you'll have her, Ber. Ihave writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin. '” Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.—Save you, captain. Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur ? Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord’s displeasure. af. You have made shift to run into’t, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard ;'°°? and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. Ber. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut ; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence ; I have kept of them tame,'*! and know their natures.—Farewell, mon- sieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve’? at my hand; but we must do good against evil. [ Hait. Par. An idle lord, ** I swear. sent to the tailor with an order for new articles of clothing was now done. (148) I know him well, I. The repetition of “I’’ in a sentence was formerly in use: generally, emphatically ; sometimes, as here, gaily. See Note 76, Act iv., “Taming of the Shrew.” (149) End ere I do begin. Inthe Folio this is printed ‘And ere I doe begin.’ Mr. Payne Collier found that the MS. corrector of Lord Ellesmere’s copy had changed the ‘A’ to an “BE,” thus giving a clear sense to the passage. Shakespeare has a similar expression elsewhere: “you always end ere you begin’’ (“Two Gentlemen of Verona,” Act ii., sc. 4); and “there to end where he was to begin”’ (“ Coriolanus,”’ Act v., se. 5). (150) Him that leaped into the custard. The Lord Mayor’s fool. It was the custom to have at city feasts an enormous custard served; and occasionally the city fool performed the feat here alluded to, which has been mentioned by other writers besides Shakespeare. (151) I have kept of them tame. “Of them’’ here affords an instance of Shakespeare’s way of employing a relatively-used pronoun in reference to an implied particular. “Of them” here is tantamount to ‘specimens of such animals or creatures as ‘this man. (152) Than yow have or will deserve. The Folio inserts ‘to’ between ‘‘ will” and “‘ deserve:’’ but, by omitting ‘to,’ we have a sentence constructed as Shakespeare sometimes does construct a sentence of this kind; in which case it would mean, ‘than you have deserved or will deserve.’ Malone and others have suggested that some word (such as ‘ qualities’ or ‘ power’) may have dropped out after “have:’’ but we cannot think so, as that would make “will” a noun; and Parolles was not without will to deserve being spoken well of by Lafeu and everybody else. (153) An idle lord. Shakespeare uses the word “idle’’ with various shades of meaning, and often each of these includes a reference to insanity. In the second scene of the Induction to the “Taming of the Shrew,” we find “ idle hnmour”’ and “idle words”’ sa Sak ae Scene I.] Ber. I think so." Par. Why, do you not know him ? Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Gives him a worthy pass.—Here comes my clog. Enter HELENA. Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur’d his leave For present parting ; only, he desires Some private speech with you. Ber. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and requiréd office On my particular. Prepar’d I was not For such a business: therefore am I found So much unsettled; this drives me to entreat you, That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse! than ask why I entreat you ; For my respects }°° are better than they seem, And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself, at the first view, To you that know them not. [Giving a letter.] This to my mother : *T will be two days ere I shall see you; so, I leave you to your wisdom. Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, But that Iam your most obedient servant. ALL'S: WELL THAT ENDS WELL. bd9 Ber. Come, come, no more of that. Hel. And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail’d To equal my great fortune. Ber. Let that go: My haste is very great: farewell; hie home. Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. Ber. Well, what would you say ? Hel. Tam not worthy of the wealth I owe ;' Nor dare I say ’tis mine,—and yet it is ; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. Ber. What would you have ? Hel. Something; and scarce so much :—no- thing, indeed.— I would not tell you what I would, my lord :—faith, yes ;— Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. Ber. [To Parotues.] Where are my other men, monsieur ?—[7'o Hutena.| Farewell.'°* [Heit HeLena. Go thou toward home; where I will never come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum.— Away, and for our flight. Par. Bravely, coragio! [Hxewnt. ACT SCENE I.—Ftorence. A room in the Duxe’s palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke or Fiorencer, attended ; two French Lords and Soldiers. Duke. So that, from point to point, now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war ; Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after. used to signify the senseless fancies and senseless talk of a man who is said to be suffering from “a strange lunacy.” ‘“Idle’’ was thus used by writers of even a later date than Shakespeare, as we find by a passage from L’Estrange :—“ Upon this loss she fell idle- headed ; and to this very day stands near the place still.” “Idle” in the present sentence we take to mean ‘ crack-brained,’ ‘futile,’ ‘given to meaningless babble.’ (154) I think so. Some editors suggest, and others print ‘not’ between “think” and “so;” affirming that the context shows ‘not’ to be required. The alteration is plausible; but we think the passage, as it stands, may be thus interpreted :—Bertram, light- judging, unprincipled, without respect for goodness and moral worth, carelessly assents to Parolles’ remark; while the latter, surprised to hear his vituperation confirmed, asks— Why, do you not know him?’’? Then Bertram replies—‘ Oh, yes, I know him thoroughly, and he passes with the generality of persons for a most worthy man.’ (155) Muse. reason,’ (156) Respects. Used here for ‘motives,’ ‘originating causes of action.’ The word was thus employed by Hooker and other writers of his time, besides Shakespeare. (157) Owe. Here used for ‘ own,’ ‘ possess.’ Here used for ‘wonder,’ ‘be at a loss for the ists First Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace’s part; black and fearful On the opposer.” Duke. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. First Lord. Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, (158) Where are my other, &c. This line (given to Helena in the Folio, and first rightfully assigned by Theobald) evidently belongs to Bertram’s speech. He addresses Parolles as “ Monsieur ;” she never does. Besides, would she do other than silently obey her new husband’s rough bidding—“ Stay not, but in haste to horse?”’ Especially, though she lingers, would she do so to ask about her attendants, and to bid Parolles farewéll? Whereas, Bertram turns away to speak a word of affected inquiry about his “other men;”’ and seeing that Helena still waits, flings her a parting word. (1) First Lord. The prefixes which appear in our text as First Lord and Sec. Lord are given with some slight variation in the Folio; but from the words there of the stage direction at the commencement of this scene (“the two Frenchmen”’) and from other points of evidence in the play, we believe the same young French lords to be meant throughout, and that the arrangement of their several speeches is here given as nearly correctly as may be. (2) On the opposer. Opposer”’ has been altered to ‘ opposer’s:” but the form of phrase is here elliptical; “on the opposer’ stand- ing for ‘on that of the opposer.’ There is a similar form of construction in “ Coriolanus,’’ Act i., sc. 6, where we have—‘‘ The sound of Marcius’ tongue from every meaner man,’ for ‘The sound of Marcius’ tongue from that of every meaner man’s.’ 560 ALL'S WELL But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion :* therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guess’d. Duke. Be it his pleasure. Sec. Lord. But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic. Duke. Welcome shall they be ; And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well ; When better fall,° for your avails they fell : To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Hxeunt. SCENE IJ.—Rovsitton. A room in the mansion of the CounTESS. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. Count. By what observance, I pray you? Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing ; mend the ruff,° and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy’ sold a goodly manor® for a song. Count. [Opening a letter.| Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. Clo. I have no mind to. Isbel, since I was at court: our old ling? and our Isbels o’ the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels 0’ the court: the brains of my Cupid’s knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. Count. What have we here? Clo. H’en that you have there.'° [ Heit. Count. [ Reads. | I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall (3) I cannot yield, but like a common, ce. “Yield” is here used for ‘render’ or ‘give;’ “but” is used in the sense of ‘save’ or ‘except;’ “‘outward” here signifies ‘unfamiliar with, or unad- mitted to political secrets’ (as, on the contrary, Shakespeare uses “inward” to express ‘familiar, ‘intimate;’ see Note 51, Act iii., “Measure for Measure’’); and as “with’’ is sometimes used for ‘by,’ so “by” is probably used here for ‘ with’ (see Note 21 of this Act). Therefore we take the meaning of the whole passage to be: — The reasons of our state I cannot give you, excepting as an ordinary and uninitiated man, whom the august body of a govern- ment-council creates with power unable of itself to act,’ or ‘with power incapable of acting of its own accord and independently.’ (4) The younger of our nature. ‘The young gentlemen like our- selves.’ It isa young lord who speaks; and he means ‘our young nobility ;’ ‘noblemen of our own age.’ (5) When better fall. This passage affords an instance of Shake- speare’s peculiar style. “Better,’’ here, seems to refer to “ places;”’ but it means ‘better men,’ ‘officers superior to yourselves in rank,’ whose “ fall’”’ will be “ for your avails,” bringing promotion. (6) The ruff. Called, also, ‘the ruffle. It was the top portion of the boot, was made of softer leather than the rest, and was worn turned over, hanging loosely round the leg. It was sometimes fringed, or trimmed with lace. ‘Mend the ruff’? means ‘amend the sit, position, or adjustment of the ruff.’ 7 (7) This trick of melancholy. See Note 42, Act i., “ Merchant of enice. THAT ENDS WELL. {Acr ITI. hear I am run away: know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, {£ will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king ; To pluck his indignation on thy head, By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire. Re-enter Clown. Clo. Oh, madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady ! Count. What is the matter ? Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be killed ? Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to’t; that’s the loss of men. Here they come will tell you more: for my part, I only hear your son was run away. [ Exit. Enter Hetena and two Gentlemen. First Gent. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Sec. Gent. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.—Pray you, gentle- men,— I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, That the first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto’t :!*—where is my son, I pray you ? Sec. Gent. Madam, he’s gone to serve the Duke of Florence : We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here’s my passport. { Reads | When thou canst get the ring upon my finger 4 which never shall come off, and show me a child of thine that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a never. This is a dreadful sentence. Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? (8) Sold a goodly manor. The first Folio misprints ‘hold’ for “sold,” which is the correction of the third Folio, and which has been adopted as the right word by most subsequent editors. ‘Who’ (or “that”? repeated) is understood before “‘sold.” ‘He sold it for a mere song,’ is still a familiar phrase, signifying to sell so cheap as to sell for a nominal price. (9) Ling. The name of a fish much eaten formerly in England, during Lent, and on fast-days. The Clown probably uses “ling ” for meagre food generally, as he uses “ Isbels’’ for waiting-women generally. (10) E’en that yow have there. ce e’en.”’ (11) If there be breadth enough, &c. An expression somewhat similar to the one explained in Note 34, Act ii., “ Merchant of Venice; and although there it has peculiar appropriateness, as being in a Venetian’s mouth, yet it seems to have been almost proverbial. (12) Can woman me unto’t. ‘Can overpower me with a woman’s weakness at suddenly beholding it.’ (13) Passport. Helena uses this word as an equivalent for ‘permission to pass from life,’ ‘sentence of death.’ A passage from Sidney will illustrate this: “ Giving his reason passport for to pass whither it would, so it would let him die.”’ (14) Get the ring upon my finger. ‘That is’ is understood between “ring” and “upon.” The Folio misprints ‘in’ for | i al " i eee i eh YT 1 ‘ HIRI i I Ve gel oro ae eee Drawn by C. ROBINSON. Engraved by T. ROBINSON, HELENA AND THE COUNTESS. Helena, Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Ve * Att’s WELL THAT Enps Wa&LL,” Act //1,, Scene 11, Scene IT.} ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 561 First Gent. Ay, madam ; And, for the contents’ sake, are sorry for our pains. Count. I pr’ythee, lady, have a better cheer ; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,” Thou robb’st me of a moiety : he was my son ; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child.—Towards Florence is | he ? 16 Hel. Ay, madam. First Gent. ’Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not consenting to. Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! There’s nothing here that is too good for him, But only she ; and she deserves a lord, That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly mistress.—Who was with him? ie TTT HTH ee Sec. Gent. Ay, madam. Count. And to be a soldier? Sec. Gent. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe’t, The duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. Count. Return you thither ? First Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. Hel. | Reads. | Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. "Tis bitter. Count. Find you that there? (15) All the griefs are thine. ‘That’ is understood between “sriefs” and “are.’’ The Countess says that if Helen engross all the griefs that are more immediately her own, she will deprive her loving mother of that share which she desires to bear with and for her. “ Moiety,” though strictly meaning ‘half,’ is sometimes used by Shakespeare for ‘a portion.’ Countess. What have we here? Clown. T'en that you have there. Act ITI. Scene If, First Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have some time known.” Count. Parolles, was it not ? First Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wicked- ness. My son corrupts a well-derivéd nature With his inducement. First Gent. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much, Which holds him much to have."® Count. You are welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, (16) Towards Florence is he? ‘Gone’ is understood after “he.” (17) A gentleman which I, fc. “ Which” used for ‘who.’ (18) A deal of that too much, which holds, fc. This is a con- fessedly difficult passage, and the word “holds” has been altered by Hanmer and others. But, assuming it to be the word that Shakespeare wrote, we take it to be an abbreviation of “ upholds,” 71 562 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses :!° more I'll entreat you Written to bear along. Sec. Gent. We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.” Will you draw near ? [Hxeunt Countess and Gentlemen. Hel. “Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.” Nothing in France, until he has no wife! Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France ; Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is’t I That chase thee from thy country, and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the non-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes,*! to be the mark Of smoky muskets? Oh, you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim: move the still-piecing air,” That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord! Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to’t ; And, though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: better ’twere I met the ravin* lion when he roar’d With sharp constraint of hunger; better ’twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all :*4 I will be gone ; My being here it is that holds thee hence : Shall I stay here to do’t? no, no, although The air of Paradise did fan the house, And angels offie’d all: I will be gone, That pitiful ramour may report my flight, To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! For with the dark, poor thief, ll steal away. [ Evzit. which he uses in a sense that precisely suits the present passage. Supposing this to be the case, we understand the whole sentence thus : ‘The fellow has a deal of that too much (‘too much”’ signi- fying ‘excess of boastful talk,’ ‘pretentiousness’), which, he having, upholds him much in general opinion,’ ‘maintains him in good estimation,’ or ‘ avails him well to possess.’ (19) His sword can never win the honour that he loses. The pun- gent reproof and stinging truth of this message from a justly offended mother to her son, couched in language the most refined, quiet, and concentrated, is worthy of special observation. (20) Change our courtesies. “Change” is here used for ‘exchange’ or ‘interchange.’ The Countess, in replying to the gentlemen’s offer of service, tells them that she accepts it only as that which she can return by showing them hospitality, adding, in illustration, Will you draw near?’’ and then accompanying them to another room—probably a refectory. (21) Shot at with fair eyes. ‘‘ With” used for ‘by.’ (22) Move the still-piecing air. The Folio misprints ‘still-peerirg’ for “ still-piecing,”’ a correction originally suggested to Steevens by he forgot whom; adopted by Malone, and by most editors since. Inasmuch as Shakespeare uses ‘pieced’ for that which is rent asunder being closed together again, and inasmuch as he has the epithet “still-closing”’ to express the same idea in reference to waters as here “still-piecing ” conveys in reference to “ air,’’ we think it probable that “still-piecing”’ is the right word in the present passage. Shakespeare uses the word “move’’ with great force of meaning elsewhere as well as in the passage under con- sideration; here it has the effect of ‘ penetrate,’ ‘pierce,’ ‘ wound.’ A line from a sonnet by William Lithgow, 1615, shows the word to have been used in exactly the same sense: “High preasse thy flames, the chrystall aire to Movn.” (23) Ravin. Used for ‘ravenous,’ or ‘ravening.’ To “ravin”’ is [Act iia SCENE III.—Fticrence. Before the Duxn’s paluce. Flourish. Enter the Duxx or Frorencr, Bertram, Parouues, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others. Duke. The general of our horse thou art: and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. Ber. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet. We'll strive to bear it, for your worthy sake, To th’ extreme edge of hazard.” Duke. Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,” As thy auspicious mistress ! Ber. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. | Hxeunt. SCENE IV.—Rousriton. A room in the mansion — of the CouNnTESS. Enter Countess and Steward. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her ? Might you not know she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again. Stew. [ Reads. ] Tam Saint Jaques’ pilgrim,” thither gone: Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie: Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervour sanctify : His taken labours bid him me forgive ; I, his despiteful Juno,” sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dog the heels of worth: He is too good and fair for Death and me; Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. to devour eagerly or voraciously. See Note 26, Act i., “Measure: for Measure.”’ f (24) Whence honour but of danger, fc. “ Whence”’ is here used for ‘from that place where;’ the meaning of the whole passage being—‘ Return home from that place where at best honour wins only a scar from danger in testimony of valour, as it often loses all, even to life itself’ (25) Edge of hazard. The word “edge”’ poetically suggests a precipice, and so apt and forcible is the expression, that Milton has adopted the precise phrase (“ Paradise Regained,’ Book i.), while Shakespeare himself has more than once repeated the word with similar force of application. (26) Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm. By using the word “play’’ here Shakespeare ingeniously conveys the image of favour. ing sunshine. Sunbeams playing upon an object is so familiar a form of speech, that the mere introduction of the verb suggests the idea. Thus, by his masterly choice of words, does the poet often present, through the medium of a single syllable, a perfect metaphor, as well as a vivid picture to the imagination. (27) Saint Jaques’ pilgrim. ‘ Pilgrim to the shrine of St. Jaques.’ Johnson suggested that the shrine here named signified St. James of Compostella in Spain; and Reed, that it possibly meant a church at Orleans, dedicated to Saint Jaques. But probably it was used to convey the idea of some shrine in Southern Italy; because in Scene v., which is laid near Florence, Helena says she is bound “to St. Jaques le Grand,’’ and the Widow says, “ You came, I think, from France?” which shows that Florence lay between the place whence Helena came and the place to which she was going. (28) His despiteful. Juno. The word “labours,’’ in the previous line, shows that Helena calls herself “Juno,’’ in allusion to the severity with which the wife of Jupiter treated his son by Alemena, indirectly being the cause of Hercules’ twelve labours. Scenz V.} Count. Ah! what sharp stings are in her mildest words !|— Rinaldo, you did never lack advice*® so much, As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. Stew. Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o’erta’en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain. Count. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom*’ Heaven delights to hear, And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice.—Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife ; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light :*! my greatest grief, Though little he doth feel it, set down sharply. Despatch the most convenient messenger :— When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return; and hope I may, that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love: which of them both Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense To make distinction :—provide this messenger— My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. [| Hxeunt. SCENE V.—Without the walls of FuorEnce. Enter a Widow of Florence, Diana, VioLenta, Marrana, and other Citizens. Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. Dia. They say the French count has done most honourable service. Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke’s brother. [A tucket® afar off.| We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. Mar. Come, let’s return again, and suffice our- selves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. (29) Advice. Used here for ‘reflection,’ ‘consideration.’ See Note 7, Act iii., “ Two Gentlemen of Verona.’? (30) Whom. Here used for ‘which,’ inasmuch as it refers to “prayers;’’ but the “her’’ in the line gives it the effect of re- ferring to “her.’’ See Note 24, Act iii., “ Tempest.’’ eh roid too light. ‘ Estimate too lightly,’ ‘value at too low a rate. (32) A tucket. A flourish on the trumpet. See Note 25, Act v., * Merchant of Venice.” (33) Suggestions. Temptations, incitements. See Note 4, Act iv., “Tempest.” (34) Are not the things they go under. ‘Are not the things they pass for ;’ ‘are not the things under the names of which they go.’ (35) Disswade succession. ‘Warn against following in the same path,’ or ‘ pursuing the same course.’ (33) Palmers. Often used synonymously with ‘pilgrims;’ although, strictly speaking, “ palmers’’ were those who had per- formed a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and brought back branches of the Syrian palm, which they bore in their hands as tokens of their having performed their vowed journey. St. Jaques le Grand, or St. James the Great, was so styled to distinguish him from St. James the Less, both being apostles. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 563 Wid. I haye told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion. Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions* for the young earl.—Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of ’lurement, are not the things they go under :°4 many a maid hath been seduced by them ; and the misery is, example, that so terribly shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession,*® but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope I need not to advise you farther; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no farther danger known but the modesty which is so lost. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. Wid. I hope so.—Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house; thither they send one another: Dll question her. Enter Hevena, in the dress of a Pilgrim. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound ? Hel. To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers* lodge, I do beseech you ? Wid. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. *7 Hel. Is this the way ? Wid. Ay, marry, is’t. this way.— If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg’d ; The rather, for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself. Hel. Is it yourself ? Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. Wid. You came, I think, from France? Hel. I did so. Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service. Hel. His name, I pray you ? Dia. The Count Rousillon: know you such a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him: His face I know not.* Hark you! they come [A march afar off. (87) At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. “The Saint Francis”? is given (in consonance with an old custom explained Note 15, Act iii., “Comedy of Errors’’) as a distinctive name to the house whieh the Widow keeps for the entertainment of pil- grims. It is very appropriately given, inasmuch as St. Francis himself made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and was also the founder of an order of mendicant friars, who went barefooted and wore a grey garment, girdled with a cord, as pilgrims does Porte here means ‘ city-gate ;’ from the Latin, porta, a gate. __ vif (88) His face I know not. This speech, containing a direct lie, is not the only instance of Shakespeare’s making some of his loveliest characters utter falsehood. The only way in which we can account for this apparent violation of morality in one of the most moral writers that ever lived, is by believing that he did it in conformity with the requisites of dramatic art. It was a part_of an assumed dis- guise; if his story required his characters to disguise themselves, to appear other than they really were, to put off their own identity and feign to be somebody else, then to utter that which would best support the enacted falsehood was but an added untruth, war- ranted by the necessity. Once allow that the falsehood of disguise is permissible, then the falsehood of speech in confirmation of that disguise becomes but a portion of the original untruth. That 564 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Dia. Whatsoe’er he is, He’s bravely taken here.*? He stole from France, As ’tis reported, for” the king had married him Against his liking: think you it is so? Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth:“ I know his lady. Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the count, Reports but coarsely of her. Hel. What’s his name ? Dia. Monsieur Parolles. Hel. Ob, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated: all her deserving Ts a reserved honesty,* and that I have not heard examin’ d.* Dia. Alas ! poor lady ! °Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. Wid. Ay, right; good creature, wheresoe’er she is, Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her A shrewd* turn, if she pleas’d. Hel. How do you mean ? May be the amorous count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. Wid. He does, indeed ; And brokes* with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: But she is arm’d” for him, and keeps her guard In honestest defence. Mar. The gods forbid else ! Wid. So, now they come :— Shakespeare himself was fully aware of the wrong involved in this aaestion, he has demonstrated by his own two quintessential ines :— * Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.” Twelfth Night, Act IT., sc. 2. But inasmuch as he was a dramatist, and the stories of his plays not only allowed but demanded that his characters should assume disguise for dramatic purpose, so he seems to have held it allowable as a part of dramatic necessity that his disguised characters should utter words which consist with their disguise. (39) He’s bravely taken here. ‘He is received as a brave man here ;’ ‘he is admitted here to be a brave man.’ The character of Diana, although sketched in brief words, is drawn with a masterly hand. She is introduced just in Shakespeare’s subtle way of de- noting womanly character, and youthful feminine disposition. She begins by a remark relative to Bertram; she is just so much interested in him as a young girl naturally is by a man who be- tokens interest in her. But she answers with quiet determination and simple conciseness, that shows her to be in earnest, when she says—“ You shall not need to fear me.’ She at once answers the inquiry as to his name, by stating it; and she goes on to speak of him with precisely that amount of general commendation which serves to bring out the truth respecting him, and with which a young girl will allow herself to speak of a man in whom she is interested, but whom she does not specially like. Then, when he enters, she suffers the impression which his handsome person makes upon her to appear: though at the same time she clearly shows that this impression is thoroughly counterbalanced by a conviction of his worthlessness. (40) For the king had, 4c. “ For’’ here used for ‘ because.’ (41) Mere the truth. ‘Exactly the truth;’ ‘just the truth;’ “precisely or absolutely the truth.’ Shakespeare uses “the mere contrary ” (“ Love’s Labour’s Lost,” i. 2) for ‘exactly the contrary.’ (42) Honesty. This word is often used by Shakespeare to in- clude the meaning of ‘purity,’ ‘ chastity,’ as well as of ‘integrity,’ * probity.’ (43) Examin’d. Used here for ‘ questioned,’ ‘doubted,’ ‘ chal- lenged;’ ‘inquired into with a view to dispute its existence.’ (44) Ay, right ; good creature. This, in the Folio, is printed, ‘I write good creature,’ and is retained by some editors, under the [Acr III. Enter, with drum and colowrs, a party of the Floren- tine army, Bertram, and PaRo.LuEs. That is Antonio, the duke’s eldest son ; That, Escalus. Hel. Which is the Frenchman ? Dia. He; That with the plume: ’tis a most gallant fellow. I would he lov’d his wife: if he were honester He were much goodlier :** is’t not a handsome gentle- man ? Hel, I like him well. Dia. ’Tis pity he is not honest: yond’s that same knave That leads him to these places: were I his lady, I would poison that vile rascal. Hel. Which is he ? Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy ? Hel. Perchance he’s hurt 7 the battle. Par. Lose our drum! well. Mar. He’s shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy,” for a ring-carrier ! [Hxeunt Bertram, Parouies, Officers, and Soldiers. Wid. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host :°! of enjoin’d penitents? There’s four or five, to Great Saint Jaqués bound, Already at my house. Hel. I humbly thank you: Please it this matron and this gentle maid impression that it is a similar idiom to the one explained Note 112, Actii. But the instances where that idiom is used by Shakespeare, - and other writers of his time, show that it was only used by per- sons speaking of themselves; therefore, were it put into the mouth of the Widow who figures in the present scene, she would proclaim herself to be a “‘ good creature ;’’ whereas the context shows her to be speaking of Bertram’s wife. The passage has been variously altered; but we adopt the reading of the second Folio, which we believe to be probably the correct one, as the speaker seems to be making a rejoinder in assent to her daughter’s observation, rather than asserting her own opinion of Helena’s merits. ‘‘Good crea- ture’’ appears to us to be said more in the pitying sense of ‘ poor creature,’ ‘ poor thing,’ than in the commendatory sense of ‘ excel- lent creature,’ ‘worthy creature ;’ because the words seem to have more connection with what immediately precedes them and imme- diately follows them, than with the previous discussion as to whether Helena is deserving of Parolles’ ‘coarse report,’ and of her own disparaging assertion that “she is too mean,’’ &e. (45) Shvewd. Used here for ‘mischievous,’ ‘spiteful,’ ‘malig- nant,’ ‘injurious.’ (46) Brokes. ‘Treats through a broker,’ ‘deals by means of a broker.’ For the sense in which Shakespeare uses the word ‘broker,’ see Note 17, Act i., “ Two Gentlemen of Verona;” and we find afterwards that Parolles is employed by Bertram as his go- between and “ ring-carrier” in his affair with Diana. (47) Arm’d. Morally armed. See Note 24, Act iv., “ Merchant of Venice.” (48) Goodlier. ‘More comely,’ ‘ better looking.’ (49) These places. An example of Shakespeare’s use of “these”’ to instance a generality. See Note 69, Act ii., “Measure for Measure.” ‘ Places’’ here, combined with “these,’’ affords a specimen of the way in which he introduces a reference to an implied particular. There has been no mention of Bertram’s fre- quenting haunts of dissipation; but what is said of his corrupt pork makes “these places” understood as referring to such haunts. (50) Courtesy. Used here ironically; in the sense of ‘ degrading obsequiousness,’ ‘ disgraceful complaisance.’ (51) Where you shall host. ‘Where you shall lodge. See Note 15, Act i., ““ Comedy of Errors.” (52) Enjoin’d penitents. ‘Penitents under a sacred injunction,’ “vowed penitents.’ ; aE \ BASS ty \ NAN SAA AIAN AN N Ry Wy SAS WAY Wu atest NY ANN NY Ws Soto pra Mee oe Helena. Diana. | Which is the Frenchman ? He; That with the plume: ’tis a most gallant fellow. Act IIT. Scene V. Scenz VI.] To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking Shall be for me ; and, to requite you farther, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin® Worthy the note. Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Hzeunt. SCENE VI.—Camp before Fiorence. Enter Bertram and the two French Lords. First Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to’t ; let him have his way. Sec. Lord. If your lordship find him not a hild- ing,** hold me no more in your respect. First Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him ? First Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice; but to speak of him as my kinsman, he’s a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise- breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship’s entertainment. Sec. Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, re- posing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you. Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him. Sec. Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently under- take to do. First Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him ; such I will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hood wink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer®® of the adver- saries, when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in- the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything. Sec. Lord. Oh, for the love of laughter, let him fetch off his drum; he says he hasa stratagem for’t : when your lordship sees the bottom of his success (53) Of this virgin. “Of” used for ‘on.’ See Note 26, Act v., “Taming of the Shrew.” (54) A hilding. ‘A low, despicable fellow,’ ‘a base wretch.’ See Note 4, Act ii., “Taming of the Shrew.” In explaining the word there, its derivation is stated to have been traced to ‘ hinder- ling,’ but it has also been said to be derived from the Anglo-Saxon hyldan, to crouch. (55) Leaguer. Camp. A passage from Sir John Smythe’s Dis- courses, 1590, illustrates this:—‘ They will not vouchsafe in their speaches or writings to use our ancient terms belonging to matters of warr, but doo call a campe by the Dutch name Legar; nor will not affoord to say that such a towne or such a fort is besieged, but that it is belegard.” (56) Lwmp of ore. The Folio misprints ‘ours’ for “ore ;’’ Theo- bald’s correction. (57) John Drum’s entertainment. This phrase (with the occasional variation of ‘Jack’ or ‘Tom,’ as the pre-name to “ Drum,” instead of “ John’’) was in colloquial use, to signify much the same sort of treatment as is now called ‘drumming out,’ meaning an igno- minious expulsion. In Holinshed we find: —“Tom Drum his entertainment; which is, to hale a man in by the head, and thrust him out by both the shoulders.” (58) The hwmour of his design. The Folio gives ‘honour,’ instead of “humour;” Theobald’s correction. The one word was an easy misprint for the other; and we think that “the honour of his ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 567 in’t, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore*® will be melted, if you give him not John Drum’s entertainment,*’ your inclining cannot be removed. —Here he comes. First Lord. Oh, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.*® Enter Parouuers. Ber. Hownow, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. Sec. Lord. A plague on’t, let it go; ’tis but a drum. Par. Buta drum! is’t but adrum? A drum so lost !—There was excellent command, ®—to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers ! Sec. Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service: it was a disaster of war that Cesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our suc- cess: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. Par. It might have been recovered. Ber. It might; but it is not now. Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.®! Ber. Why, if you have a stomach® to’t, mon- sieur, if you think your mystery™ in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what farther becomes his great- ness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber, But you must not now slumber in it. Par. Vl about it this evening: and I will pre- sently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation ; and, by midnight, look to hear farther from me. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it ? design,” as the “honour he is to reap from his design,” a forced interpretation, and less likely to be the meaning of the spcaker than “the humour of his design,’’ which is what he desires Bertram will not hinder, and which consists thoroughly with “for the love of laughter.”’ & , (59) In any hand. ‘In any case,’ ‘at any rate,’ ‘at all events. It is a similar idiom to “at any hand.’ See Note 90, Act i., “Taming of the Shrew.” ae (60) There was excellent command. Qne of Shakespeare’s ironical sentences. See Note 64, Act ii. ee ae ean (61) Hic jacet. A Latin phrase, signifying ‘Here lies;’ often used as the commencement to an epitaph. Parolles, in his vapour- ing way, says he would either recover that drum, get another from the enemy in its stead, or die in the attempt. ; ; (62) Stomach. Here used in the combined sense of ‘appetite’ and of ‘courage.’ See Note 32, Act i., “Tempest.” ; (63) Mystery. Here used in its double sense of secret know- ledge,’ and of ‘trade’ or ‘professional avocation.’ See Note 18, Act iv., “Measure for Measure.” E (64) Dilemmas. By this word the braggart designs to convey an idea of the different obstacles he will probably meet with in carrying out his attempt, the various schemes he has for over- coming them, the divers risks he will have to run, and the choice he will in all likelihood have to make between what Fuller calls “a, dilemma of deaths.” 568 ALL'S WELL THAT Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. Ber. I know thow’rt valiant; and, to the possi- bility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee.® Farewell. Par. I love not many words. [ Kait. First Lord. No more than a fish loves water.— Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confi- dently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; condemns himself to do, and dares better be condemned than to do’t? Sec. Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a man’s favour, and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries ;°” bat when you find him out,® you have him ever after. Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto ? First Lord. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies : but we have almost embossed him”—you shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship’s respect. Sec. Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him.” He was first smoked” by the old Lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him: which you shall see this very night. First Lord. I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught. Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. First Lord. As’t please your lordship: I'll leave you. [ Katt. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you The lass I spoke of. Sec. Lord. But you say she’s honest.’ Ber. That’s all the fault: I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold ; but I sent to her, (65) To the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. ‘I will answer for thee, that thou wilt do all that thy soldiership can possibly perform.’ (66) A week. Here used for an indefinite space of time. See Note 35, Act ii., “ As You Like It.” (67) A great deal of discoveries. This has been challenged as grammatically incorrect; but the use of “deal” in combination with a plural noun is still a provincialism. (68) When you find him out. This passage serves to illustrate the one explained in Note 116, Act ii. (69) Probable lies. Lies wearing an appearance of probability. (70) Embossed him. ‘Run him down,’ ‘hunted him down.’ “Embossed” is a term of the chase; ‘ panting,’ ‘exhausted,’ “foaming at the mouth. See Note 12, sc. i., Induction, “‘ Taming of the Shrew.” (71) Case him. “Case” is used by Shakespeare for ‘skin, or ‘covering.’ “Case him” ineans, strictly, ‘skin him ;° figuratively, “strip him of his deceitful coverings,’ ‘unmask him.’ _ (72) Smoked. The use of this word in this passage affords an instance of Shakespeare’s way of crowding analogies and allusions into one humorous sentence by the introduction of a single epithet. “Smoked’’ has affinity with the “case” or ‘skin’ just mentioned; it suggests the ‘smoke-dried’ fish that turns out to be “a sprat ;”’ and it implies the tracking out by scent which agrees with “ fox,” and furnishes the jocose verb for ‘ finding out a pretender,’ which is still in familiar use. (73) Look my twigs. See Note 11, Act iv., co pre reas (74) Honest. ‘ Pure,’ ‘chaste,’ ‘chary of her honour.’ See Note 42 of this Act. a . ; (75) That we have i the wind. Cotgrave thus explains this pro- “Look out my twigs.’ ENDS WELL. [Acr III. By this same coxcomb that we have i’ the wind,” Tokens and letters which she did re-send ; And this is all Ihave done. She’s a fair creature: Will you go see her ? Sec. Lord. With all my heart, my lord. [ Exeunt. SCENE VII.—Fiorencr. A room in the Widow’s house. Enter Hetena and Widow. Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,’ I know not how I shall assure you farther, But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.” Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses ; And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. Hel. Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband, And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken,” Is so, from word to word; and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. Wid. I should believe you ; For you have show’d me that which well approves® Youw’re great in fortune. Hel. Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay and pay again, When I have found it.*! The count he woos your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolv’d® to carry her: let her, in fine, consent, As we'll direct her how ’tis best to bear it. Now his important blood* will naught deny ® That she’ll demand: a ring the county ®™ wears, That downward hath succeeded in his house verbial phrase :—“ Estre sur vent, To be in the wind, or to have the wind of. To get the wind, advantage, upper hand of ; to have a man under his lee :”’ an explanation which also serves to illustrate the expression commented upon in Note 43, Act ii., “ Much Ado.” But we believe the present passage, “that we have i’ the wind,’ includes reference to ‘ having scent of,’ ‘ hunting by track of smell left in the air.’ f ; (76) She. An instance of Shakespeare’s employing a relatively- used pronoun in reference to an understood nominative. It of course refers to Helen herself, to her own identity, as Bertram’s wife; which she has been revealing to the Widow. Shakespeare often opens a scene with these conversations already begun, giving a most natural effect by this, one of his resources in dramatic art. (77) Lose the grounds I work wpon. Helena says she knows not how she shall give the Widow farther proofs of her identity, without risking the betrayal of her disguise to Bertram, and so losing the grounds on which she builds her plan. (78) Estate. Condition; position in life. : (79) What to your sworn counsel I have spoken. ‘That which I have confided to you under a vow of secrecy.’ Shakespeare uses the word “counsel” in this peculiar way. See Note 59, Act iii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (80) Approves. Proves, testifies. p F (81) Found it. Used for ‘ experienced it ;’ found it to exist. (82) Resolu’d. First Folio prints ‘Resolve ;’ second Folio, ‘ Re- solves ;’ corrected to “ Resolv’d”’ in Lord Ellesmere’s copy: (83) Bear it. ‘Carry the matter,’ ‘conduct the affair.’ (84) Inyortant blood. ‘‘Importunate affection.’ See Notes 5 and 22, Act ii., “ Much Ado.” (85) Deny. Refuse. at (86) County. Count. See Note 41, Act i., “Merchant of Venice. AN WY WHO RONEN . WAS S MWA AKG WS . SN Purolles. Oh, ransom, ransom !—do' not hide mine eyes. Act IV. Scene I. 72 ————————————— Scene I.] From son to son, some four or five descents Since the first father wore it; this ring he holds In most rich choice ; yet, in his idle*’ fire, To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, Howe’er repented after. Wid. Now I see The bottom of your purpose. Hel. You see it lawful, then: it is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring ; appoints him an encounter ; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent: after this, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is past already. ACT SCENE I.—Without the Florentine Camp. Enter First French Lord, with five or six Soldiers in ambush. First Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will,—though you under- stand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. First Sold. Good captain, let me be the inter- preter. First Lord. Art not acquainted with him ? knows he not thy voice ? First Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. First Lord. But what linsey-woolsey! hast thou to speak to us again ? First Sold. E’en such as you speak to me. First Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i’ the adversary’s entertainment.? Now, he hath a smack* of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know* what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: (87) Idle. Here includes the sense of ‘wild,’ ‘rash,’ ‘impetuous,’ ‘desperate,’ ‘madly eager, as well as ‘light-minded,’ ‘toying,’ ‘inconsiderate,’ ‘futile.’ See Note 153, Act ii. (88) Too dear. In Shakespeare’s elliptical style this stands here for ‘too dear a price to pay,’ or ‘too dear a possession to part with.’ (89) After this. “This,” omitted in the first Folio, is supplied in the second. (90) Perséver. ‘Persevere,’ formerly, was often thus spelt and accented. (91) Fact. Deed; act; Latin, factum, a thing done. Helena characteristically utters an enigma; she means by it, that her husband intending wickedly will act lawfully; she will intend lawfully and act lawfully, and they both will commit no sin, while seeming to do so. (1) Linsey-woolsey. Titerally, a stuff made of mixed linen and wool; figuratively used for a trashy compound of words, what we should now call ‘fustian’ language. (2) Some band of strangers, &c. enemy’s pay.’ ‘Some foreign troops in the ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 571 Wid. I have yielded: Instruct my daughter how she shall perséver,” That time and place, with this deceit so lawful, May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs compos’d To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us, To chide him from our eaves; for he persists, As if his life lay on’t. Hel. Why, then, to-night Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, And lawful meaning in a lawful act ; Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact :% But let’s about it. [ Hxeunt. sve chough’s language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic.— But couch, ho! here he comes,—to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. Enter Parouuzs. Par. Ten o’clock: within these three hours ’twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive® invention that carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too fool-hardy ; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. First Lord. [Aside.] This is the first truth that e’er thine own tongue was guilty of. Par. What the devil should move me to under- take the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it; they will say, “Came you off with so little?” and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what’s the instance ?® Tongue, [ must put you into a _ (8) A smack. Here used for what we should now call ‘a smatter- ing.’ (4) Not to know. Here used for ‘not needing to know.’ “ Must?’ occurring in the first clause of the séntence, “not ’’ in the second, contradicts the necessity or obligation. The meaning of the whole sentence we take to be—‘ We must each be a speaker from our own individual invention, and need not know what we say to each other; so that we appear to know, is to know enough for our purpose. [“‘Straight’’ here signifying ‘at once,’ ‘ directly,’ ‘im- mediately.’] ‘“Chough’’ is a kind of crow. See Note 32, Act iii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (5) Plausive. Here used for ‘plausible.’ It has been said to be used in the same sense in Act i., sc. 2; but there we think “his plausive words” signify ‘his words worthy of applause.’ (6) What's the instance? Here “instance’’ has been explained by Johnson to mean ‘ proof,’ and by others to mean ‘ motive ;’ but we rather take it to signify that which is to be instanced, or brought forward in evidence. ‘‘ Wherefore, what’s the instance ?”’ we in- terpret_ thus :—‘For which reason, what fabricated circumstance can I adduce ?’” 572 ALL’S butter-woman’s mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet’s mule,’ if you prattle me into these perils. First Lord. [{Aside.] Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is ? Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. First Lord. [Aside.] We cannot afford you so. Par. Or the baring of my beard ;* and to say it was in stratagem. First Lord. [Aside.] ’T'would not do. Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. First Lord. [Aside.] Hardly serve. Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel— First Lord. [Aside.] How deep ? Par. Thirty fathom. First Lord. [Aside.| Three great oaths would scarcely make that be believed. Par. Iwould I had any drum of the enemy’s: I would swear I recovered it. First Lord. [Aside.| You shall hear one anon. Par. A drum now of the enemy’s. [Alarum within. First Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo cargo. [They seize and blindfold him. Par. Oh, ransom, ransom !—do not hide mine eyes. First Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. Par. I know you are the Muskos’ regiment ; And I shall lose my life for want of lancuage : If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I will discover that which shall undo The Florentine. First Sold. Boskos vauvado:— I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue :— Kerelybonto :—sir, Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards Are at thy bosom. Par. First Sold. Manka revania dulche. First Lord. Oscorbi dulchos volivorco. First Sold. The general is content to spare thee et; And, hood einicd as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life. Par. Oh, let me live! And all the secrets of our camp I’ll show, Oh! Oh, pray, pray, pray !— _ (7) Bajazet’s mule. These words probably conveyed some allu- sion, well understood in Shakespeare’s time, beyond those pointed out by Steevens and Reed: the one to a description in the old Turkish histories of Bajazet riding on a mule to the divan; the other to an apologue of a philosopher who undertook to make a mule speak. In itself the word “mule” is sufficiently expressive of oye dumbness, yet some commentators have altered it to mute. (8) Baring of my beard. “Baring” was formerly used as an equivalent to ‘shaving.’ In “Measure for Measure,’”’ Act iv., se. 2, we find—* Shave the head, and tie the beard; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death.” (9) Inform on that. This has been changed to ‘Inform ’em that,’ as if it were an additional order to the second soldier. Whereas we take it to be a following up of the first portion of the speech—“ He will betray us all unto ourselves [‘he will,’ under- WELL THAT ENDS WEULL. [Actiiy, Their force, their purposes; nay, Ill speak that Which you will wonder at. First Sold. But wilt thou faithfully ? Par. If I do not, shoot me. First Sold. Acordo linta :— Come on; thou art granted space. [Hxit, with ParoLiEs guarded. First Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him mufiled Till we do hear from them. Sec. Sold. Captain, I will. First Lord. He will betray us all unto our- selves :-— Inform on that.° Sec. Sold. So I will, sir.” First Lord. Till then Pit keep him dark, and safely lock’d. | Eweunt. SCENE IL—Ftorencr. A room in the Widow’s house. Enter Bertram and Diana. Ber. They told me that your name was Fonti- bell. Dia. No, my good lord, Diana. Ber. Titled goddess ! And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, In your fine frame hath love no quality ? If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, You are no maiden, but a monument: When you are dead, you should be such a one As you are now, for you are cold and stern; And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet self was fram’d, Dia. She then was honest. Ber. So should you be. Dia. No: My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. Ber. No more o’ that. I pr’ythee, do not strive against my vows : 11 I was compell’d to her; but I love thee By love’s own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service. Dia. Ay, so you serve us, Till we serve you; but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness.” stood as repeated]: inform on that.’’ The First Lord is musing upon Parolles’ answer to the words, “Haply thou mayst inform something to save thy life;’’ and says he ‘will “inform” on that point ;—something concerning “‘ ourselves.” ’ _ (0) So I will, sir. This speech, which seems as though it were in reply to what the First Lord has last said, is, in fact, a reitera- tion of “Captain, I will,’ in reply to what the First Lord has before said— Go, tell the Count Rousillon,” &c. The intervolving of the dialogue here, in accordance with Shakespeare’s way of giving speeches that cross each other, is probably what has misled those commentators who change “on’’ to ‘’em’ in the previous speech. See Note 76, Act ii. (11) My vows. Not only the vows in reference to Helena, alluded to in the sentence he wrote to his mother—“ sworn to make the not eternal”’—but the vows he is now proffering to Diana. (12) You barely leave our, &c. Those who have proposed to alter eae ee Scene IT.] Ber. How have I sworn ! 8 Dia. ’Tis not the many oaths that make the truth, But the plain single vow that is vow’d true. What is not holy,!* that we swear not by, But take the Highest to witness: then, pray you, tell me, ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 573 That I will work against him: therefore your oaths Are words and poor conditions ; but unseal’d,“— At least in my opinion. Ber. Change it, change it; Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy ; And my integrity ne’er knew the crafts Bertram. And [ll be bid by thee. If I should swear by Jove’s great attributes T lov’d you dearly, would you believe my oaths When I did love you ill? this has no holding, To swear by him whom I protest to love,” the word “barely’’ here to ‘basely,’ or ‘merely,’ would strip the passage of its Shakespearian emphasis in repetition, which they fail to appreciate. To our thinking it emphatically expresses— *You leave us deprived of all save our stings of conscience, and then reproach us with our deprivation.’ (13) How have I sworn! We must either believe that something has been omitted after these words, or understand them to include various forms of swearing; as, “by my love for thee,’ ‘by thine own sweet self,’ &c. ; since these adjurations seem to be referred to in Diana's next speech. (14) What is not holy. This sentence shows that among the “many oaths’? he has vowed, Bertram has sworn by his love, which Diana maintains is “not holy,’’? and which he afterwards protests “is holy:” it also shows that we are to take the word ill” afterwards in the sense of ‘unholily ;? and that ‘‘ Jove’s attributes”? may be taken to represent ‘ Heaven’s attributes— holiness and goodness.’ Diana’s argument goes to prove that Bertram’s suit is unholy in itself, and that it is injurious to her towards whom he professes love. The speech is expressed in Here, take my ring: My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, Act IV. Scene II. That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, But give thyself unto my sick desires, Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever My love, as it begins, shall so perséver. forcible though unusual language; and its drift is perfectly clear, though its construction is peculiar. She here says— We do not swear by what is unholy, but by Heaven itself: then, if I should swear by Heaven and holiness I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths when you found I loved you unholily and in- juriously ?’ J (15) This has no holding, to swear by him whom TI, Xe. “This has no holding’’ means ‘ this does not hold good in consistency,’ ‘this has no coherence or appropriateness.’ “To swear by him whom f protest to love’’ seems to show that Bertram has sworn by Diana herself, as well as by his love; because the whole speech has the effect of argument by retort. The sentence appears to us (Gin Shakespeare’s comprehensive style of writing) to include a two-fold meaning :—* To swear by Heaven and holiness whom I protest to love, that I will act,contrary to their laws,’ and ‘To swear by one whom I protest to love, that I will desecrate and injure him.’ (16) Words and poor conditions ; but unseal’d. ‘Mere words and empty professions, that sound as if binding; but really left 574 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Acr IV. Dia. I see that men make hopes, in such a | When his wife’s dead; therefore I’ll lie with him case,!7 That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. Ber. Ill lend it thee, my dear; but have no power To give it from me. Dia. Will you not, my lord? Ber. It is an honour ‘longing to our house, Bequeathéd down from many ancestors ; Which were the greatest obloquy '* V the world In me to lose. Da. Mine honour’s such a ring: My chastity’s the jewel of our house, Bequeathéd down from many ancestors ; Which were the greatest obloquy i’ the world In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion, honour, on my part, Against your vain assault. Ber. Here, take my ring: My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I'll be bid by thee. Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window : Pll order take my mother shall not hear.!? Now will I charge you in the band” of truth, Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me: My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them When back again this ring shall be deliver’d: And on your finger, in the night, ll put Another ring, that, what in time proceeds,” May token to the future our past deeds. Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won A wife of me, though there my hope be done. Ber. A heaven on.earth I have won by wooing thee. [ Exit. Dia. For which live long to thank both Heaven and me! You may so in the end.— My mother told me just how he would woo, As if she sat in’s heart; she says all men Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me unratified by such “holding’’ and appropriate pledges of security as I have just described.’ (17) Make hopes, in such a case. The Folio prints this ‘make rope’s in such a scarre,’ which has been variously altered, most readings changing ‘rope’s’ into “hopes;’’ while others alter “scarre’ into ‘case,’ ‘affairs,’ ‘scene,’ ‘war,’ ‘suit,’ ‘’scape,’ ‘snare.’ Of these substituted words, we have adopted the first, as “in such a case” is a phrase frequently used by Shakespeare; but we have no confidence in its being the correct one. There is great plausi- bility in ‘snare,’ from its close similarity of letters to the Folio word here; ‘’scape,’ according to the sense in which that word is used by Shakespeare in “ Winter’s Tale,’’ Act iii., sc. 3, is possibly right; and ‘suit’ accords well with the use of the same sentence in Act iii., se. 5—“ brokes with all that can in such a suit corrupt,” &c. Moreover, an extremely ingenious conjecture has been made, that possibly the line originally ran thus :—‘I see that men may cope’s in such a sorte ;’ since Shakespeare uses the words “ cope” and “sort’’ in the sense that suits this passage; and since the sentence would then form a kind of excusatory introduction to Diana’s abrupt request, “Give me that ring,” as a token of her change from resistance to relenting. (18) Obloqwy. Used here for that which causes obloquy or reproach. See Note 64, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice.” (19) PU order take my mother, &c. ‘I'll take measures to prevent my mother from hearing.’ See Note 84, Act i. “Taming of the rew.” (20) Band. Sometimes used for ‘bond.’ See Note 40, Act Ves “Tempest.” (21) What in time proceeds. ‘Whatsoever in the course of time may result.’ ‘‘What’’ is here used for ‘whatever’ or ‘whatsoever’ When Iam buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,” Marry that will, I live and die a maid: Only, in this disguise, I think ’t no sin To cozen him that would unjustly win. - [ Kait. SCENE III.—The Florentine camp. Enter the two French Lords and two or three Soldiers. First’Lord. You have not given him his mother’s letter ? Sec. Lord. I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in’t that stings his nature; for, on the reading it, he changed almost into another man. First Lord. He has much worthy® blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. ee Lord. Especially he hath incurred the ever- lasting displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly* with ou. i First Lord. When you have spoken it, ’tis dead, and I am the grave of it. Sec. Lord. He hath perverted a young gentle- woman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown ; he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made* in the unchaste composition. First Lord. Now, Heaven delay our rebellion :% as we are ourselves, what things are we ! Sec. Lord. Merely”? our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their ab- horred ends,* so he that in this action contrives” against his own nobility, in his proper stream o’er- flows himself. *° First Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents ?*! We shall not then have his company to-night ? (22) Braid. False, deceitful, beguiling, tricking. From the Anglo-Saxon bred, deceit; and the Icelandic bragd, fraud. (23) Worthy. Here used for ‘ merited,’ ‘ deserved.’ (24) Darkly. Here used for ‘hiddenly,’ ‘ secretly.’ (25) Thinks himself made. ‘Deems himself fully fortunate.’ A similar idiom occurs in “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Act iv.,s¢e.2: —“Tf our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.” (26) Delay our rebellion. Shakespeare sometimes uses “ delay” with a stronger sense than that of ‘ defer,’ postpone ;’ it includes the sense of ‘ hinder,’ ‘baftle,’ ‘frustrate,’ ‘check,’ ‘repress.’ “ Re- bellion”’ here, as in the last scene of this play, signifies lawless deeds of passion. (27) Merely. ‘Absolutely,’ ‘thoroughly.’ See Note 75, Act Vos “ As You Like It.” (28) Till they attain to their abhorred ends. This has been variously explained, but to our minds it means—‘ Till they finally incur the abhorrence properly theirs, or which is their due.’ ; (29) Contrives. Plots, acts injuriously. See Note 32, Act iv., “Merchant of Venice.” (30) In his proper stream o’erflows himself. ‘By his own reveal- ments covers himself with opprobrium.’ (31) Is it not meant damnable in us to be, &c. They who alter “meant ’’ to ‘most’ here, appear to miss the consecution of the sense in this dialogue. To our minds, “Is it not meant damnable in us,” comes as a following up of the thought involved in “ As we are ourselves, what things are we!’’ ‘Unaided by Heaven’s provi- dential checks and curbs, what are we? Heaven ordains it for our own condemnation, that we thus proclaim our unlawful in- tentions.’ ‘‘Meant,’’ here, seems to us to have the force of “purposely ordained, ‘expressly designed.’ Screnz IIT.] Sec. Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.” First Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his company** anatomised, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously *‘ he had set this counterfeit. ** Sec. Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come ; for his presence must be the whip of the other. First Lord. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars ? Sec. Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. First Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. Sec. Lord. What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France ? First Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council. Sec. Lord. Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act. First Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony, she accomplished ; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature be- came as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath; and now she sings in heaven. Sec. Lord. How is this justified ? First Lord. The stronger part of it®* by her own letters, which make her story true, even to the point of her death: her death itself,—which could not be her office to say is come,—was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place. Sec. Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence? First Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. Sec. Lord. Iam heartily sorry that he’ll be glad of this. First Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses ! : Sec. Lord. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample. First Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. (32) He is dieted to his hour. To be “ dieted”’ strictly means to be fed according to appointed rule; it is used here figuratively, for having an appointment granted at a restricted time. (33) Company. Here used for companion; referring to Parolles. See Note 35, Act. i. “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.’’ (34) Curiously. ‘Carefully,’ ‘ valuingly.’ From the aptly-chosen word we gain also the effect of ‘strangely.’ (35) Counterfeit. Besides its meaning of a pretender, an im- postor, this word, as used here, includes its senses of a picture, a false coin, and a factitious jewel—as the word “set’’ shows. See Note 31, Act iii., “ Merchant of Venice.’’ (36) The stronger part of it. “ Stronger’’ is here used for ‘sub- stantial,’ ‘material;’ in reference to the particulars of Helena’s course during the latter part of her life, as opposed to “the point of her death.” The word has been oddly altered by some few com- mentators to “stranger,” but there is nothing particularly ‘strange’ in the recorded events. (37) His lordship will neat morning for France. An elliptical idiom ; ‘away,’ ‘depart,’ or ‘set forth’ being understood between “will”’ and “next.” Here the word “leave” having occurred just before, it may be understood as repeated. (38) This counterfeit model. Here used to signify ‘this fellow who pretends to be the model of military perfection.’ ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 575 Enter a Servant. How now! where’s your master ? Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France.*7 The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king. Sec. Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. First Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king’s tartness. Here’s his lordship now. Enter Bervram. How now, my lord! is’t not after midnight? Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen busi- nesses, a month’s length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congé’d with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning ; enter- tained my convoy; and between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. Sec. Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fear- ing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier ?—Come, bring forth this counterfeit model ;** he has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier. First Lord.*» Bring him forth [Exeunt Soldiers.]: —he has sat i the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. Ber. No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long.” How does he carry himself ? First Lord. I have told your lordship already, —the stocks carry him. But, to answer you as you would be understood; he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk: he hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting 7? the stocks: and what think you he hath confessed ? Ber. Nothing of me, has he ?# Sec. Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face: if your lordship be in’t, as I (39) First Lord. This speech has generally been assigned to the Second Lord; but the next speech but one, “I have told your lord- ship already,” &c., shows the present one to belong to the same speaker. It has already been observed that, in the Folio, the pre- fixes to the speeches uttered by these two characters are given with much uncertainty ; therefore editors must use their best endeavour to arrange them in the way that seems most probably to be the rightone. See Notel, Actili, | 4 (40) His heels have deserved it, in usurping, Xc. _ Spurs, as a token of knighthood, were hacked off when a knight disgraced his order, and forfeited his title to belong to it. See Note 4, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.”’ (41) Nothing of me, has he? It is worthy of note how consistently the poet has drawn the character of Bertram—meanly selfish, grossly egotistical in all his relations. Not only does he treat Helena and Diana like a scoundrel, but he behaves basely by Parolles, his chosen companion. His first idea, on learning that he is but a “hilding”’ and “a bubble,” is a selfish one—a tetchiness as to his own want of judgment—“ Do you think I am so far deceived in him?” He is harder upon him than the others, who call him “poor gallant knave,’’ while Bertram again shows his jealous re- sentment at his having deceived him, and says, unfeelingly, “No matter, his heels,” &c. And, lastly, so far from betraying the least 576 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it. Re-enter Soldiers, with Paros. Ber. A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me: hush, hush! First Lord. Hoodman comes!*—Porto tarta- Tossa. First Sold. He calls for the tortures: what will you say without ’em ? Par. I will confess what I know without con- straint: if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. First Sold. Bosko chimurcho. First Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. First Sold. You are a merciful general.—Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live. First Sold. First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong. What say you to that? Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live. First Sold. Shall I set down your answer so? Par. Do: Ill take the sacrament on’t, how and which way you will. Ber. (Apart.] All’s one to him.* What a past- saving slave is this! First Lord. [Apart.] You’re deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist (that was his own phrase), that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger. ‘4 Sec. Lord. [Apart.] I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly. First Sold. Well, that’s set down. Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said,—I will say true,—or thereabouts, set down,—for I’ll speak truth. First Lord. in this. Ber. [Apart.] But I con him no thanks for’t,* in the nature he delivers it. * [Apart.] He’s very near the truth concern at his old associate having proved worthless, he is solely occupied with the dread lest he should confess anything that will compromise himself, Count Bertram of Rousillon—noble by birth, rascal by nature. (42) Hoodman comes! The game now known as ‘ Blind-man’s Buff’ was formerly called ‘Hoodman Blind.’ (43) All’s one to him. In the Folio, these words are so printed as to form the concluding portion of Parolles’ last speech; but they are evidently the commencement of Bertram’s present one. (44) The chape of his dagger. “The chape”?’ was the hook or fastening by which the sheath of a weapon was attached to the belt. See Note 19, Act iii., “Taming of the Shrew.” “Theoric ” is an old form of ‘theory.’ _ (4) Icon him no thanks fort. An expression equivalent to ‘I owe him no thanks for it,’ or ‘I am not beholden or indebted to him for it;’ more literally, ‘I know of no thanks due to him for it,’ ‘I acknowledge or recognise no thanks as his by right.’ “Con”’ is from the Saxon, connan, to know. (46) In the nature he delivers it. ‘In the way he delivers it;’ that is, so treacherously and so disparagingly. (47) If I were to live this present hour. An instance of the way in which Shakespeare gives the effect of one word to another, by his mode of introducing it in a sentence. See Note 48, Act iv., “As [Acr IV. Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. First Sold. Well, that’s set down. Par. I bhumbly thank you, sir: a truth’s a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor. First Sold. Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot. What say you to that ? Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour,“ I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many ; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodo- wick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each ;4* mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll ;* half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks,*° lest they shake themselves to pieces. Ber. [Apart.} What shall be done to him ? First Lord. [Apart.] Nothing, but let him have thanks.—Demand of him my condition,*! and what credit I have with the duke. First Sold. Well, that’s set down. yon shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i’ the camp, a Frenchman ; what his reputation is with the duke ; what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt. What say you to this ? what do you know of it? Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the par- ticular of the inter’gatories :5* demand them singly. First Sold. Do you know this Captain Dumain ? Par. I know him: he was a botcher’s ’prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for pervert- ing the sheriff’s fool—a dumb innocent, that could not say him nay. [First Lord lifts up his hand in anger. Ber. [Apart.] Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. : First Sold. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence’s camp ? Par. Upon my knowledge, he is. First Lord. [Apart.] Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon. First Sold. What is his reputation with the duke ? Par. The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o’ the band: I think I have his letter in my pocket. You Like It.’’ Here, “live’’ has the effect of ‘die,’ because it is used in the phrase where ordinarily ‘die’ occurs; but we take it to be meant as showing Parolles’ perturbation of mind, and that he intends to say, ‘If I were to die this present hour, or allowed to live through it.’ (48) Two hundred fifty each. Instead of the more usual way of ‘Two hundred and fifty each,’ ‘and’ was sometimes omitted in ee parlance; as we still say ‘twenty-two’ for ‘twenty and wo.’ . ee Fifteen thousand poll. “ Poll’? is here used for enumerated eads. (50) Cassocks. Cloaks, or loose upper garments, worn by soldiers. French, casaques. (51) Condition. Here used for disposition and character. (52) Inter’gatories. An elision formerly employed for ‘interroga- tories.’ See Note 50, Act. v. “ Merchant of Venice.” (53) Though I know his brains are, &c. Shakespeare uses “though” very peculiarly. See Note 24, Act ii., “Much Ado.” He sometimes, it is true, employs the word in the sense it usually bears—‘ notwithstanding that;’ but he elsewhere employs it in cases where it can hardly have that signification. Here, for pee it seems to us rather to mean ‘as,’ ‘ since,’ ‘ for the reason at.’ oe, ay A 7 a / nel : | yy BIN 7 / Wy /; Bertram. Good morrow, noble captain. Second Lord. Bless you, Captain Parolles. Act IV. Scene Iii. 73 Scene III.| First Sold. Marry, we’ll search. Par. In good sadness,°* I do not know; either it is there, or it is upon a file, with the duke’s other letters, in my tent. First Sold. {Finds one on him.] Here ’tis; here’s a paper: shall I read it to you? Par. Ido not know if it be it or no. Ber. [Apart.] Our interpreter does it well. First Lord. [Apart.] Excellently. First Sold. [ Reads. | Dian, the count’s a fool,®* and full of gold— Par. That is not the duke’s letter, sir; that is an advertisement*® to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish, idle boy, but, for all that, very wanton: I pray you, sir, put it up again. First Sold. Nay, Vll read it first, by your favour. Par. My meaning in’t, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and licentious boy. Ber. [Apart.] Both sides rogue. First Sold. [ Reads. | When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; After he scores, he never pays the score : Half won is match well made; match, and well make it ; 7 He ne’er pays after debts, take it before ; And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this, Men are to mell with,*’ boys are not to kiss: For count of this, the count’s a fool, I know it, Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, PAROLLES. Ber. [Apart.] He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme in’s forehead. Sec. Lord. [Apart.] This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier. Ber. [Apart.] I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he’s a cat to me. First Sold. I perceive, sir, by our general’s looks, we shall be fain to hang you. Par. My life, sir, in any case! not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i’ the stocks, or anywhere, so I may live. First Sold. We'll see what may be done, so (54) In good sadness. ‘ Seriously,’ ‘upon reflection.’ (55) Dian, the count’s a fool. It has been asserted that probably something has dropped out from the text here, as this line has no corresponding one to rhyme with it, like the rest. But it may have been a prose commencement, to match with the prose conclusion. There are other instances in Shakespeare (see “Twelfth Night,’ Act ii., se. 5; and “ Hamlet,” Act ii., sc. 2) of letters written partly in verse, partly in prose. (56) Advertisement. ‘Warning ;’ French, avertir, to warn. (57) Half won is match well made, &c. This line may be inter- preted—‘ A match well made is half won; make your match, there- fore, and make it well.’ (58) Men are to mell with. “Mell” means ‘meddle,’ ‘deal.’ Florio, in his “ Seconde Frutes,” has :— “ Who with a Tuscan hath to mell, Had need to hear and see full well.’’ (59) He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister. He will not scruple = break sanctuary, for the sake of even the most insignificant object. (60) What an honest man should have, he has nothing. ‘Of’ is here understood before “ what.’’ Fora similar form of construc- tion see Note 23, Act i., “ Tempest.”’ (61) I begin to love him for this. The good humour of this young lord is well contrasted with Bertram’s sulky resentment. The fact is, the latter feels the truth of the fellow’s scurrilous reports, while the other can afford to laugh at them as sheer calumnies. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 579 you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answered to his reputa- tion with the duke, and to his valour: what is his honesty ? Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister :*? he professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking ’em he is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with such volubility that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has everything that an honest man should not have ; what an honest man should have, he has nothing. First Lord. ([Apart.| I begin to love him for this.®! Ber. [Apart.| For this description of thine honesty ? A plague upon him for me, he’s more and more a cat. First Sold. What say you to his expertness in war ? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians,“—to belie him I will not,—and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country,® he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile End, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain. First Lord. [Apart.| He hath out-villained villainy so far, that the rarity redeems him. Ber. [Apart.] A plague on him, he’s a cat still. First Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. Par. Sir, for a quart d’ecu® he will sell the fee- simple™ of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. First Sold. What’s his brother, the other Cap- tain Dumain ? Sec. Lord. me ? First Sold. What’s he? [Apart.] Why does he ask him of (62) Led the drum before the English tragedians. It wasthe custom for a troop of strolling players to be preceded by a drum or trumpet. See Note 21, Induction, “Taming of the Shrew.” (63) In that country. Oneé of those touches that Shakespeare throws in to remind us that the scene of the play we are reading is laid abroad, while enabling him to introduce native allusions that veut otherwise be misplaced. See Note 1, Act iii., “‘ Merchant of enice.” (64) Mile End. Where it was usual for the citizens of London to be mustered and trained. ‘The doubling of files’’ has reference to the military evolution of ‘marching»in double file.’ (65) He’s a cat still. The way in which Bertram returns and returns to the same expression of antipathy to Parolles is charac- teristically indicative of his fidgety egotism, and bad-tempered vexation. (66) Quart d’ecu. A French coin, known in England, where it was sometimes spelt ‘cardecue.’ It means ‘ quarter of a crown;’ and some authorities state it to have been the fourth part of the French gold crown, when it was worth eighteenpence; while others say that it was a fourth of the smaller French crown, and worth eightpence. (67) Fee-simple. This word, with those that follow it in the present speech, form a string of law-terms, which Shakespeare had so marked a liking for. “Fee-simple’’ signifies ‘possession for ever’ (see Note 19, Act iv., “ Merry Wives’). The technical legal explanation of a “remainder ”’ is ‘something limited over to athird person on the creation of an estate less than that which the grantor 580 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Par. Wen a crow o’ the same nest; not alto- gether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil: he excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: in a retreat he outruns any lackey ; marry, in coming on he has the cramp. First Sold. If your life be saved, will you under- take to betray the Florentine ? Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon. First Sold. Vl whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. Par. [Aside.| Vl no more drumming; a plague of alldrums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition® of that licentious young boy, the count, have I run into this danger: yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken ? First Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says, you that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die.—Come, headsman, off with his head. Par death ! First Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. | Unmuffling him. So, look about you: know you any here? Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. Sec. Lord. Bless you, Captain Parolles. First Lord. Save you, noble captain. Sec. Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? Iam for France. First Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet yoa writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you: but fare you well. [Hzeunt Bertram, Lords, &c. First Sold. You are undone, captain; all but your scarf, that has a knot on’t yet. Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot ? First Sold. If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France, too: we shall speak of you there. | Heit. Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, *Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my has;’ and we believe that either some word (equivalent to ‘ secure’ or “ensure ’) has dropped out before “ a perpetual,” or that Parolles is intended to get into a conglomeration. (68) Beguile the supposition. ‘ Entrap the good opinion.’ _ (69) Simply the thing I am shall make me live. It would be difficult to match this little sentence for pithy expression, —a wee of satire upon meanness of soul compressed into nine brief words. (70) Which gratitude. Here, “which”’ is used peculiarly. See Note 99, Act ii. “ Which gratitude” implies a gratitude commen- surate with which “ desiréd office.’ ; (71) Marseilles. Here pronounced as a trisyllable. See Note 43, Act ii., “Taming of the Shrew.” 5 (72) Motive. Here used in the sense of ‘moving power, ‘active means,’ ‘agent,’ ‘ promoter.’ (73) Saucy. Shakespeare uses this word here, and elsewhere, to [Acr IV. As captain shall: simply the thing I am Shall make me live.” Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass, That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and Parolles, live Safest in shame! being fool’d, by foolery thrive! There’s place and means for every man alive. Tl after them. [ Exit. SCENE IV.—Ftorencr. A room in the Widow’s house. Enter Hetena, Widow, and Diana. Hel. That you may well perceive I have not wrong’d you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my surety; *fore whose throne ’tis needful, Ere I can perfect my intents, to kneel: Time was, I did him a desiréd office, Dear almost as his life; which gratitude” Through flinty Tartar’s bosom would peep forth, And answer, thanks: I duly am inform’d His grace is at Marseilles :7! to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know, I am supposed dead: the army breaking, My husband hies him home; where, Heaven aiding, And by the leave of my good lord the king, We'll be before our welcome. “id. Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome. Hel. Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love: doubt not but Heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter’s dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive? And helper to a husband. But, oh! strange men! That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy® trusting of the cozen’d thoughts Defiles the pitchy night! so will doth play With what it loathes, for that which is away: But more of this hereafter.—You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf. Dia. Let death and honesty Go with your impositions,” I am yours Upon your will to suffer. Hel. Yet, I pray you:® But, with the word,” the time will bring on summer, When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns, signify ‘unlawfully bold,’ ‘audacious beyond licence.’ The sentence appears to us‘to mean ‘ When, by permitting the beguiled imagi- nation to rove forbiddenly, the darkness of night is ma le blacker.’ This wandering away of Helena’s thoughts into reverie (for the whole of this sentence is spoken to herself, rather than to her hearers), even while she is commenting upon excursive fancies, is, to our thinking, intensely fine and true to human nature,—par- ticularly under these special circumstances. (74) Impositions. Injunctions; commands. See Note 76, Act iii., “Merchant of Venice.” (75) Yet, Ipray you. “ Yet’’ ishere (as just before in the sentence “yet must suffer ’’) used in the sense of ‘ yet. farther,’ ‘ yet awhile,’ ‘still.”. Helena means to say, ‘I pray you, still “ suffer something in my behalf.’’’ (76) But, with the word. Elsewhere, as here, Shakespeare em- ploys this expression to signify ‘immediately,’ ‘apon the instant,’ eS Scene Vi] And be as sweet as sharp. We must away ; Our wagon is prepar’d, and time revives us :77 All’s well that ends well:” still the fine’s the crown ;”° Whate’er the course, the end is the renown. [ Hxeunt. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 58] would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth® of a nation in his colour: your daughter- in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed** humble-bee I speak of. Count. I would I had not known him! * it was TA _ , a ) HA Il i | HH HH ] i i i AAs SSSA SSE Parolles. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Clown. SCENH V.—Rovsttton. A room in the mansion of the CouUNTESS. Enter Countess, Larev, and Clown. Taf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta® fellow there, whose villainous saffron*! ‘in a moment.’ Helena means, ‘ But, even as we speak, even while we utter the word “ suffer,’”’ the time,’ &e. (77) Time revives us. It has been proposed to alter the word vevives ” to ‘ revies,’ ‘reviles,’ ‘invites,’ &c.; and even the word “time” has been suspected to be incorrect in this line. But we take the sense of the sentence to mean, ‘Time gives us fresh energy, fresh life in purpose to act.’ Elsewhere, Shakespeare pro- pounds the vital truth that “ Time is the nurse and breeder of all good;’’ and here, Helena’s hopeful, energetic words contain the same trust in the renovating principle of Time. (78) All’s well that ends well. One of the passages, alluded to in the first note to this play, that are pertinent to its title. (79) Still the fine’s the crown. “Fine” is here used in its sense of ‘end;’ from Latin jinis; and the phrase has reference to the Latin sentence—Finis coronat opus (‘The end crowns the work’). (80) Snipt-taffeta. Slashed silk: and in allusion to the “ scarfs’’ and fluttering ribbons that Parolles wears, which have been several times referred to in the course of the play. Foh, pr’ythee, stand away. Look, here he comes himself. Act V. Scene LI. the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever Nature had praise for creating: if she had par- taken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. Laf. *Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady: we (81) Villainous saffron. This probably alludes to a custom of wearing yellow starch in the ruffs and linen, and to the gaudy colour of Monsieur’s doublet; both of which extravagances of fashionable attire he most likely affected. (82) Unbaked and doughy youth. By these epithets the poet admirably stigmatises the raw pasty character of idle young fellows; by them, moreover, he connects the idea of Parolles not only inducing his thoughtless associates to adopt his absurd fashions in attire, but to leaven them with his vices and impart a colour of his ugly nature to theirs: for “‘saffron’’ was used to give a hue to pastry (“ Saffron to colour the warden pies,” “‘ Winter’s Tale,” Act iv., sc. 2); and thus Shakespeare morally, as well as personally, uses the figure in this sentence. (83) Red-tailed. Alluding to Monsieur’s flaring-coloured hose. Hanmer plausibly substituted ‘but for’ instead of ‘than by” in this last sentence. (84) I would I had not known him! The second “I” in this sentence has been changed by Hanmer and others to ‘he;’ but the may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or rather, the herb of grace. Laf. They are not salad-herbs,* you knave ; they are nose-herbs. ; Clo. Iam no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself,—a knave or a fool? Clo. (87) Grass. This is here spelt ‘grace’ in the Folio; to mark the pun which the Clown makes between the two words, as is testified by-Lafew’s next words, alluding to his want of grace by the word “knave.” By a little mincing in the pronunciation of “grass” (and it was sometimes written and pronounced ‘ gresse’ in Shake- speare’s time), the play on the word is obvious; and we have seen that strictly similar pronunciation was not necessary for a pun. See Note 82, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (88) An English name. The Folio prints ‘maine’ instead of “name ;” Rowe’s correction. The allusion is double: to Edward “the black prince,’ whose appearance in France was a “hot”’ terror, while he was cherished in England; and to “the prince of ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Act IV. he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness ; and, indeed, he has no pace,? but runs where he will. Laf. I like him well; ’tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady’s death, and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self- gracious remembrance, did first propose: his high- ness hath promised me to do it: and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? Count. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected. Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night: I shall beseech your lordship to re- main with me till they meet together. Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what man- ners I might safely be admitted. Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege. Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; but, I thank my God, it holds yet. Re-enter Clown. Clo. Oh, madam, yonder’s my lord your son with a patch of velvet on’s face: whether there be a scar under’t or no, the velvet knows; but ’tis a goodly patch of velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half,® but his right cheek is worn bare. Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour ; so belike is that. Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face.™ Laf, Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble soldier. Clo. Faith, there’s a dozen of ’em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. | Kxeunt. darkness,” who is supposed by Lavatch to show more fiercely in the land where he himself is speaking. (89) Suggest. Here used for ‘tempt.’ (90) But, sure. Some editors here change “sure” to ‘since. To om “But sure” in this place is precisely in Shakespeare’s style. (91) A shrewd knave and an unhappy. “Shrewd” is here used in its sense of ‘slily mischievous ;’ and “unhappy” in that of ‘un- lue’_y,’ ‘ill-conditioned.’ See Note 56, Act iv., “ Comedy of Errors.” (92) Pace. Here has the force of ‘set pace,’ ‘trained step,’ ‘pre- scribed course,’ ‘appointed limit.’ (93) Two pile and a half. In allusion to the quality of the velvet of which the patch is made. See Note 22, Act i. “ Measure for Measure.’ (94) It is your carbonadoed face. “Your” is here used according to the idiom explained in Note 96, Act iii., “As You Like It.’ ‘A carbonado’ was a slice of meat, prepared for the gridiron by being scotched or cut with a knife; and a “‘ carbonadoed face” is one that has been wounded and slashed by cuts from a sword. Sceng IT.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 583 AGT AV" SCENE JI.—Marserties. A street. Enter Hetena, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants, Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night, Must wear your spirits low ;! we cannot help it: But, since you have made the days and nights as one, To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, Be bold? you do so grow in my requital, As nothing can unroot you.—In happy time :3— Enter a gentle Astringer.* This man may help me to his majesty’s ear, If he would spend his power.—God save you, sir. Gent. And you. Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. Gent. I have been sometimes there. Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen From the report that goes upon your goodness ; And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, Which lay nice® manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful. Gent, What’s your will? Hel. That it will please you To give this poor petition to the king ; And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence. Gent. The king’s not here. Hel. Not here, sir! Gent. Not, indeed: (1) Must wear your spirits low. In this little speech Shakespeare’s dramatic art is conspicuous. He has made it beautifully convey the unselfishness of Helena’s character; thinking of others’ fatigue, not her own; her gentleness, apologising to them for occa- sioning their trouble; her energy of spirit, feeling no fatigue herself, in the generous eagerness of her affection, though travelling under such peculiar physical circumstances; her grateful nature, warmly expressing her sense of obligation, and renewing her pro- mises. of requital. He has made it, moreover, serve to show the speed with which the women have journeyed, and the ardour with which Helena hastens to her hoped-for success. (2) Bold. Here used for ‘ assured,’ ‘ confident.’ (3) In happy time. This expression is used by Shakespeare, as he uses “in good time,’ for an equivalent with ‘ appositely,’ ‘ oppor- tunely.’ See Note 31, Acti., “‘T'wo Gentlemen of Verona.” (4) Enter a gentle Astringer. ‘Ostercus,’ or ‘Austercus,’ is a name for a goshawk; and Cowell, in his Law Dictionary, says that we usually call a falconer who keeps that kind of hawk an austringer. Markham, a great authority on hawking, says, “They be called ostringers, which are the keepers of gosshawks or tercells.”? We think, therefore, that there can be little doubt that the personage here introduced is a falconer, not exactly attached to the court, and a member of the royal household, but one who is consulted respect- ing the king’s birds, and who is evidently in favour with the king himself. We all know what amount of interest with the sovereign, and influence at court, has been at various times enjoyed by those well skilled in hawks, hounds, horses, or other accessories to sport- ing pursuits. The epithet “ gentle” shows “this man” to be of good birth; and Helena addresses him as one who has a name for “goodness.” There is something appropriate in all this, to our thinking; and we should be loath to part with this “ gentle Astringer,” who has always hada quaint and pleasant individuality for us, in order that the substituted generality of “A gentleman”’ (which some editors would give) should take his place. (5) Nice. Here used for ‘ punctilious,’ ‘ precise.’ (6) All’s well that ends well yet. Another of the passages perti- nent to the play’s title. See Note 78, Act iv. pd He hence remov’d last night, and with more haste Than is his use. Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains! Hel. All’s well that ends well yet,° Though time seemed so advérse and means unfit.— I do beseech you, whither is he gone ? Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; Whither I am going. Hel. I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the king before me, Commend the paper’ to his gracious hand ; Which, I presume, shall render * you no blame, But rather make you thank your pains for it.? I will come after you, with what good speed Our means will make us means.!” Gent. This Pll do for you. Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank’d, Whate’er falls more.!!'—We must to horse again :— Go, go, provide. | Hxeunt. SCENE II.—Rovstrton. The inner court of the mansion of the CounTESS. Enter Clown and Parours. Par. Good Monsieur Lavatch,” give my Lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in Fortune’s mood,’ and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. (7) The paper. The one previously mentioned as “ this petition,” vee confided by Helena to the gentle Astringer’s care and good offices. (8) Which, I presume, shall render. The way in which “which’’ and “it” are used in this sentence affords an instance of the kind of construction pointed out in Note 99, Act ii. They do not refer to either “paper ”’ or “‘hand,’’ in the preceding line; but, in Shake- speare’s way of making relatively-used pronouns refer to animplied particular, they relate to the act of commending the paper to the king’s hand. ‘ : (9) Make you thank your pains for it. ‘Make you rejoice in the pains you took to do it.’ (10) With what good speed our means will make us means. This is a phrase quite in Shakespeare’s manner: the repetition of the words gives a half playful effect, and they serve to depict Helena’s untired spirit, encouraging her companions by her cheerful energy and sprightly endurance. There is combined signification in the sentence, and it harmonises with Helena’s characteristically enig- matic utterance. It implies what speed the money she will spend can command in the shape of conveyance ; what speed her physical condition will enable her to exert; what speed her own and her companions’ efforts will empower them to make. ; (11) Whate’er falls more. ‘‘Falls’”’ is here used for ‘befalls, ‘happens,’ ‘ occurs.’ 4 (12) Lavatch. It has been supposed that this is a corruption of some French word; and it has been suggested that it was possibly La Vache, in punning allusion to the name of the actor who played the part, either Richard Cowley or John Lowine (lowing). Con- sidering the context, it may have been intended for Lavage ; which, in familiar French language, is used to express ‘slop,’ ‘ puddle,’ ‘washiness.’ However this may be, there is irresistible drollery, as well as fine satire, in making Parolles—who formerly treated the Clown with magnificent toleration—now address him by the title of “Monsieur,” give him his name, and call him “ sir.’’ (13) Fortune’s mood. Shakespeare elsewhere, as well as here, employs the word “‘ mood” to signify ‘ capricious humour, *‘ petu- lance,’ ‘waywardness, ‘anger,’ and, moreover, there is a pun Clo. Truly, Fortune’s displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune’s buttering. Pr’ythee, allow the wind."* Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir ; I spake but by a metaphor. Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man’s metaphor. Pr’ythee, get thee farther. Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Clo. Foh, pr’ythee, stand away. Look, here he comes himself. Enter Larev. Here is a pur of Fortune’s, sir, or of Fortune’s cat (but not a musk-cat), that has fallen into the un- clean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, in- genious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort,'® and leave him to your lordship. [ Heit. Par. My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratched. Laf. And what would you have me to do? ’tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There’s a quart Vecu™ for you: let the justices make you and Fortune friends; I am for other business. Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha’t; save your word. Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word,!® then.— Cox’ my passion !'° give me your hand :—how does your drum ? Par. Oh, my good lord, you were the first that found me !*”° Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon intended by the use of the word in this passage; as ‘mud’ was formerly pronounced somewhat like “ mood.” (14) Allow the wind. ‘ Let me get to the windward of thee’ (15) A pur of Fortune’s, sir, or of Fortune’s cat. It has been pro- posed to change “pur” to ‘puss’ here, and to omit the second ‘of’? before “ Fortune :” but it may be that a “ pur” is used by the fantastical Clown to represent ‘a murmur,’ ‘a grumble ;’ and then, “pur” suggesting “ cat,’ he goes on as in the text. (16) My smiles of comfort. “Smiles” has here been altered by some editors to ‘ similes;’ but we take “my smiles of comfort’’ to be a facetious whimsicality of the Clown’s, equivalent to ‘my com- fortable jests,’ ‘my comforting playfulnesses.’ (17) Quart @ecu. See Note 66, Act iv. (18) Yow beg more than one word. The word “ one,” omitted in the First Folio, was supplied in the Third. Lafeu plays on the name “ Parolles,’’ which, in its likeness to the French word paroles, is the plural form of ‘ words.’ (19) Cow’ my passion! One of the colloquial corruptions of solemn oaths then in use. (20) First that found me! “ Found” is here used with the same quibble on its different senses as béfore observed in Note 116, Act ii.; while “ lost,’’ in the next speech, is punned on with the signification of ‘sank you in the estimation of others.’ (21) Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat. This is just one of Shakespeare’s own touches. It is not only true to his large 584 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Acr V. me at once both the office of good and evil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.| The king’s coming; I know by his trumpets.—NSirrah, inquire farther after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat ;*! go to, follow. Par. I praise God for you. [ Kxeunt. SCENE III.—Rovsttron. a man as any’s in Illyria. What’s that to the purpose ? Why, he has three thousand ducats a ‘Enter Stn ANDREW AGUECHEEK. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch,—how now, Sir Toby Belch ! Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.*4 Mar. And you, too, sir. Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What’s that ? Sir To. My niece’s chambermaid. Folio, to ‘all most natural.’ But Shakespeare often uses ad- jectives for adverbs, and by doing so in the present case, he gives to Maria’s sentence the quibbling effect she wishes to convey, meaning, ‘almost naturally,’ or, ‘by nature,’ and ‘almost like a natural, or born idiot.’ (29) Gust. Appetite, relish, inclination; Latin, gustus, taste. (30) Substractors. Sir Toby’s bousy blunder for ‘ detractors.’ (31) Coystril. A base fellow, a flincher, a poltroon. The word has been by some authorities derived from ‘kestrel,’ a degenerate hawk; and by others from ‘ costerel,’ explained by Holinshed to mean the ‘ bearers of the arms of barons and knights.’ These were inferior grooms, generally peasant lads; and the name by which they were known is traced to the low Latin word coterellus, a peasant. (32) Parish-top. Formerly there was a large top kept in every English village, for affording the means of exercise and warmth to the peasantry in cold weather, and of amusement generally. (33) Castiliano vulgo. We take this to be a hint of Sir Toby to Maria to restrain her tongue on the approach of Sir Andrew; the Spaniards, and especially the Castilians, being noted for a reserved and taciturn manner; as if he had _ said, ‘Be as reticent as a Castilian now that one of the common herd is coming.’ Florio has “Vulgo, as Volgo;” and the latter word he explains, “ the common sort of people, the vulgar multitude, the mani-headed-monster multitude.” Possibly, however, ‘vulgo’’ may be here used, in Sir Toby’s lax way of speaking, for a vulgate or jargon ; meaning, ‘ Now adopt a Castilian style of staid talk,’ fit for one of the uninitiated to listen to, and calculated to mystify Sir Andrew. (34) Fair shrew. This address of Sir Andrew, in itself, serves to indicate the mischievous look that sparkles in every feature of Maria’s roguish face; and that makes him instinctively dread the smart bout of waggery with which she immediately obfuscates him. Screnz ITT.] Sir And. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Sir And. Good Mistress Mary Accost,— Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is, front her, woo her, assail her. Stir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Str To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand ? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here’s my hand. Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar,®> and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what’s your metaphor ? Mar. It’s dry, sir.*6 Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what’s your jest ? ; Mar. A dry jest, sir. Sir And. Are you full of them ? Mar. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers’ ends: marry, now [ let go your hand, Iam barren. [EHivit. Sir To. Oh, knight, thou lackest a cup of canary :*7 when did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef,?> and I believe that does harm to my wit. Sir To. No question. Sir And. An I thought that, I’d forswear it. Pll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Str To. Pourquoi, my dear knight ? (35) The buttery-bar. The “buttery” was the place where eatables and drinkables were kept; and the “buttery-bar’’ was the portion of the room where they were served out. See Note 30, Induction, “ Taming of the Shrew.” (36) I?s dry, sir. Maria plays on the word “ dry,’’ in its sense of eee and in its reference to the belief that adry hand betokened ebility. ee Canary. The wine so called. See Note 14, Act iii., “Merry ives. (38) A great eater of beef. Shakespeare elsewhere has allusion to the injurious effect of beef on the intellect; and it is curious to speculate on the point as to whether, after a meal of that meat, he felt his own brain the heavier; whether it was a prejudice of that time ; or whether, as we think very likely, it was (in allusion to the popular prejudice) a mere ironical banter of Sir Toby’s. His “No question”’ here, as confirmed by his “ Past question’’ in reply to the theory of art’s effect upon Sir Andrew’s hair, makes this the most probable. (39) Pourquot. As we hope to have among the readers of our Notes many students so young in age and knowledge as to have hitherto bestowed no more “time in the tongues’’ than Sir Andrew, we give the meaning of the French word pourquoi: literally, ‘for what ;’ freely, ‘why,’ ‘ wherefore.’ (40) Curl by nature. Theobald’s felicitous emendation of the Folio’s misprint here, ‘ Coole my nature.’ (41) Pll stay a month longer. The abrupt way in which Sir Andrew alters his determination has a most comic effect ; appear- ing to be totally without ground for change: but Shakespeare has allowed us to get a glimpse of the flabby gentleman’s motive through his confused speech, by making him allude to “ masques and revels;’’ which he evidently intended to resort to as a means of displaying his devotion to Olivia. TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. d99 Stir And. What is powrquoi? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting: oh, had I but followed the arts ! Str To. ‘Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature :“ Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does’t not ? Str To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee and spin it off. Sir And. Faith, Pll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or if she be, it’s four to one she’ll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her. Sir To. She’ll none o’ the count: she’ll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there’s life in’t, man. Sir And. Tl stay a month longer“! I am a fellow o’ the strangest mind i’ the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight ? Stir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man.” Str To. What is thy excellence in a galliard,® knight ? Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper.“ Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to’t. Sir And. And I think I have the back-trick* simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Str To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- fore have these gifts a curtain before ’em? are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall’s picture ?46 why dost thou not go to church ina galliard, and come (42) Yet I will not compare with an old man. This has been variously explained; but we take its signification to be, that the knight by the term “an old man” means ‘a man of experience,’ just as he has before deferred to “his betters ;’’ while the use of the word “old”’ gives precisely that absurd effect of refraining from competing in dancing, fencing, &c., with exactly the an- tagonist incapacitated by age, over whom even Sir Andrew might hope to prove his superiority. i (48) A galliard. A lively Spanish dance, named from the Spanish word gallardo, gay, sprightly. (44) Can cut a caper. That this was part of the “excellence” in dancing a “ eallterd? is proved by a passage from Florio’s “Second Frutes;” where we find: “He danceth verie well, both aliards and pauins; hee vaultes most nimblie, and capers verie oftilie.” (45) The back-trick. Here Sir Andrew is making a discursive allusion to his fencing feats, meaning by “back-trick” a back- handed stroke with the sword; and not keeping to the discussion of his dancing powers, meaning by “ back-trick’’ some retiring step, some elegance of graceful retreat. The word “strong” makes for the former interpretation ; and, moreover, a sentence (in the same page of Florio’s “Second Frutes”’ as the one “rom which we have just quoted) describing a skilful master of fence, illustrates the expression in the text: “He will hit any man, bee it with a thrust or stoccada, with an imbroccada or a charging blowe, with a right or reverse blowe, be it with the edge, with the back, or with the flat, even as it liketh him.” We have before mentioned our belief that this was a book well known to Shakespeare ; and here it seems as if he must haye heen lately reading the actual page in question. See Note 42, Act ii., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (46) Mistress Mall’s picture. An allusion to a notorious woman named Mary Frith, familiarly known as Mall Cutpurse. Sir Toby rrr — LL esssssS—SFeFe 600 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. home in a coranto?“7 My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make a leg but in a sink-a- pace.* What dost thou mean ? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitu- tion of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. Sir And. Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels ? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus ?*! Sir And. Taurus! that’s sides and heart.” Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha !—excellent ! [ Hxeunt. SCENE IV.—An apartment in the Duxn’s palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VioLa in man’s attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour or my negli- gence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? Val. No, believe me. Vio. Ithank you. Here comes the count.* Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? Vio. On your attendance, my lord, here. Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario, Thou know’st no less but all; I have unclasp’d To thee the book even of my secret soul : Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou have audience. Vio. Sure, my noble lord, jocosely refers to the practice of hanging curtains over pictures that were of extra value, to preserve them the more carefully; thus slily making Sir Andrew’s “gifts’’ about as precious as the portrait of such a woman as “ Mistress Mall’’ would be. (47) A coranto. A brisk French dance. See Note 74, Act ii., All’s Well.” a oe Make a leg. ‘Make a bow.’ See Note 59, Act ii, “ All’s e az (49) A sink-a-pace. A corruption of cinque-pace, the name of a French dance. See Note 6, Act ii., ““ Much Ado.” (50) Klame-coloured stock. Pope’s correction of the Folio’s mis- print ‘dam’d coloured;’ which others have altered to ‘ damask- coloured,’ and ‘dun-coloured.’ “Stock”? was an old form of ‘stocking.’ See Note 25, Act iii., “‘ Taming of the Shrew.” (51) Born under Taurus. In allusion to the astrological belief that to be born while certain of the heavenly bodies were pre- dominant, influenced the disposition in accordance with the peculiar qualities attributed to each. “Taurus,” the Bull, is the second constellation of the zodiac. Sir Toby seems to think that a rene to joviality and revelry belonged to the influences of ‘aurus.” (52) That’s sides and heart. This refers to the medical astrology appearing in almanacks of former date, even to so late a period as the first quarter of the present nineteenth century: which system associated the affections of particular portions of the human body with the predominance of particular constellations. Taurus was held to affect the neck and throat, therefore Sir Toby and Sir paar both, as is natural, blunder in their several versions of this point. (53) Here comes the count. The Duke is called “count,” both here and in the previous scene, according to a custom of applying [Acr I. If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. Duke. Be ciamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Rather than make unprofited return. Vio. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then ? Duke. Oh, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith !** It shall become thee well to act my woes ; She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio” of more grave aspéct. Vio. I think not so, my lord. Duke. Dear lad, believe it ; For they shall yet belie thy happy years, That say thou art a man: Diana’s lip Is not more smooth and rubious ;*° thy small pipe Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound ;*7 And all is semblative a woman’s part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair :**—some four or five attend him ; All, if you will; for I myself am best When least in company :—prosper well in this, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine. Vio. [ll do my best To woo your lady :—[Aside.] Yet, a barful strife! Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife. [| Hzeunt. SCENE V.—A room in Ontvi1a’s house. Enter Marta and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.” Mar. Make that good. Clo. He shall see none to fear. ae latter title to noblemen generally. See Note 38, Act iv., “ Much Outs (54) Surprise her with discourse of, &c. Shakespeare here, and elsewhere, uses “surprise’’ with peculiar force of meaning; con- yas the effect of ‘take by storm,’ ‘ overpower,’ ‘make conquest oO. > (55) Nuncio. Messenger; from the Latin nuncio, to bear tidings, to announce. (56) Rubious. One of those exquisite epithets which it is the privilege of poets to coin. Whether derived from the Latin, rubeus, ruddy, or directly from the gem ruby, or for the sake of its own mellifluous sound, the word proclaims Shakespeare’s classical knowledge, his keen eye for beauty, and his delicate ear for poetical music. (57) Shrill and sound. They who alter this to ‘shrill in sound’ surely impair the full meaning of the sentence. . To our thinking, the Duke is intended to say, ‘Thy slender voice is like a maiden’s voice, high in key and at the same time uncracked; and all makes thee appear to be like a woman.’ A boy’s voice is “ shrill,’ high, of treble quality, but not ‘sound,’ or uncracked ; while a girl’s is of the same shrillness, or high pitch, and yet perfectly “sound,” or pure in tone. . (58) Thy constellation is right apt for this affair. Another allusion to the astrological belief in auspicious constellatory influences on certain favoured natures. ‘ dee barful strife! ‘An endeavour full of difficulty and self- struggle.’ (60) Fear no colours. A phrase then in familiar use; signifying ‘fear no threats or danger, under whatever aspect they may approach.’ It was originally a military expression; meaning ‘fear no foe, under whatever colours he may fight.’ rr ScENE V2] Mar. A good ienten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. Clo. Where, good Mistress Mary ? Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to gay in your foolery. Clo. Well, Heaven give them wisdom that have Duke. Thou know’st no less but all; I have unclasp’d To thee the book even of my secret soul. it; and those that are fools, let them use their | talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or, to be turned away,—is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. Clo. points. You are resolute, then ? Not so, neither; but Iam resolved on two ¢ (61) A good lenten answer. “Lenten” being used in allusion to the season of Lent, when fasting and abstinence are observed, the word means ‘meagre,’ ‘spare,’ ‘dry,’ ‘stinted;’ and Maria employs the term, showing that while she seems to praise the Clown’s “answer” for being ‘brief,’ she really hints that it is ‘scant’ and ‘bare’ of wit. (62) For turning away, let summer bear it owt. ‘As for being turned away, I care not, so that it be in a warm season, when there’s less need of shelter.’ (63) That if one break, the other will hold. Maria chooses to take the Clown’s “two points’’ in the sense of the tagged strings or laces, by which the upper part of the dress was attached to the lower. See Note 20, Act iii., “ Taming of the Shrew.” = > T'WELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 76 601 Mar. That if one break, the other will hold ee or, if both break, your gaskins“ fall. Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh as any in Hlyria.® Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that. Here Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario, Act I. Scene IV. comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [ Eait. Clo. Wit, an’t be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what says Quina- palus?® Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. Enter Outvia and Matvotio. God bless thee, lady ! (64) Gaskins. Large wide hose, sometimes called ‘ gascon hose,’ “gaskins’”’ being a corruption of ‘ gascons.’ (65) As any in Illyria. This sentence is the Clown’s sly way of hinting that Sir Toby admires Maria, and that the knight aa not do better than renounce his potations and take her to wife. (66) No more o’ that. Mistress Maria shows that she has her vulnerable point of attack, as well as Master Feste; and that if she threaten him with his mistress’s displeasure for straying from home, he will be able to revenge himself by betraying her good understanding with Sir Toby to her lady. k (67) eres A name invented by this “ witty fool,” in satire of those who cite a classic authority upon every occasion. 602 Oli. Take the fool away. Clo. Do younot hear, fellows? Take away the lady. Oli. Go to, youre a dry fool;® Vl no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clo. Tivo faults, madonna,” that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest ; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: anything that’s mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue: if that this simple syllogism” will serve, so; if it will not, whatremedy? As there is no true gull but calamity, so beauty’s a flower.— The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. Clo. Misprision”! in the highest degree !—Lady, cucullus non facit monachum ;7 that’s as much to say as,’> IT wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it? Clo. Dexteriously,”4 good madonna. Oli. Make your proof. Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse of virtue,” answer me. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll *bide your proof. Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou ? Olt. Good fool, for my brother’s death. Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Clo. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul being in heaven.—Take away the fool, gentlemen. Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend ? Mal. Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. (68) Youre a dry fool. Olivia uses the word “dry”’ in the sense of ‘sapless,’ ‘witless’ (see Note 98, Act v., ‘ Love’s Labour's Lost’’) ; the Clown answers it punningly, in the sense of ‘ thirsty.’ (69) Madonna. A title of address used to ladies in Italy; ‘madam,’ or ‘my lady.’ (70) Syllogism. The Clown’s use of this word, which means an argument composed of three propositions, is in keeping with his pretensions to logic and argumentative wisdom: he is a delightful specimen of light-heartedness, with hit-or-miss talk, whimsicality in fancy, and drollery in utterance ; moreover, gifted with a sweet singing-voice and a knowledge of quaint old songs. (71) Misprision. Mistake, misconception. See Note 22, Act iv., * Much Ado.”’ (72) Cucullus non facit monachum. A Latin saying, signifying “A cowl does not make a monk.’ The Clown means to say, that though he wears the motley suit of a professional fool-jester, he is no fool in lack of wit. (73) As much to say as. An old form of ‘as much as to say.’ (74) Dexteriously. The Folio prints the word thus; and, though some editors have printed it correctly, we retain the old spelling as possibly intended to mark a whimsically facetious pronun- ciation of the word by the Clown, who deals in this kind of oddity. (75) Good my mouse of virtue. “‘ Mouse” was formerly used as a term of endearment or affectionate familiarity. See Note 50, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” “Good’’ was sometimes placed before “my” instead of after it, as “good my lord,’ “good my glass” (see Note 4, Act iv., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost’’); giving a playful or earnest effect to the mode of address, as the case may be. Here, this style of construction has a doubly good effect: it gives an italian air to the Clown’s words, in harmony with his calling Olivia “Madonna;’’ for the Italians frequently say, ‘Cara mia signora,’ ‘dear my lady,’ or even ‘cara signora mia,’ ‘dear lady mine,’ instead of * mia cara signora,’ ‘my dear lady.’ TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Act I. Clo. Heaven send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool. Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ? Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he’s out of his guard already ; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools,” no better than the fools’ zanies.* Oli. Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts” that you deem cannon-bullets : there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing,®! for thou speakest well of fools! Re-enter Marta. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. Oli. From the Count Orsino, is it ? Mar. I know not, madam: ’tis a fair young man, and well attended. Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ?” Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you: he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! [ Fvit Marta. |] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home: what you will, to dismiss it. [Hit Matvorro.] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool,—whose skull Jove cram (76) Till the pangs of death shake him. Malvolio’s bitterness of severity on the fool’s whimsicalities well serves to characterise him at the very outset. (77) I take these wise men, that crow so at these, &’c. “*Take’’ is here used for ‘account,’ so that if the latter word were used instead of “‘take,’’ “no better’’ would follow consecutively after “ wise men,” without needing the ‘to be’ which is now elliptically understood before ‘no better.’’ “‘These’’ is used in this passage according to Shakespeare’s mode of employing it when instancing a generality. See Note 69, Act ii., “ Measure for Measure.”’ (78) Fools’ zanies. Fools’ mimics, imitators of fools; fools at second-hand. Several citations from contemporary writers have been adduced to show that “ zany,’’ both as verb and noun, was used in the sense of to ape or mimic, to be a buffoon imitator. (79) Bird-bolts. Short, thick, blunt arrows; used for shooting rooks and other birds with. Their use was permitted to fools, as weapons with which they could do little hurt. See Note 7, Acti., “Much Ado.” (80) An allowed fool. A licensed jester; a fool whose profession gives him warrant to say anything, however galling. See Note 118, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (81) Leasing. Lying. Mercury, being the god of eloquence and of cheating, is invoked by the Clown to endow Olivia with the gift of specious oratory, since she has just been showing how well she can advocate the cause of fools, by a fair argument. Feste thinks that if his lady mistress can speak so well for his brethren with even a truthful plea, how much more could she say for them were she to use sophistry and warped reasoning. (82) In delay. In detention. It will be observed that here the word “delay ”’ has the additional sense of ‘ withholding,’ ‘checking,’ as well as of ‘deferring,’ which we pointed out in Note 26, Act iv., “All’s Well”? Not only is Viola’s approach delayed, but she is held back and detained. . Scenz V.] with brains! for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater.*® Enter Str Tosy Beucu. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.—What is he at the gate, cousin ? Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman! what gentleman ? Sir To. *Tis a gentleman here—a plague o’ these pickle-herrings !*‘—How now, sot !® Clo. Good Sir Toby !— Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy ? Sir To. Lethargy! I defy lethargy. There’s one at the gate. Oli. Ay, marry, what is he? Sir To. not: give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one." Oli. What’s a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman : one draught above heat*? makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit o’ my coz; for he’s in the third degree of drink,— he’s drowned: go, look after him. Clo. Heis but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [ Hat. Re-enter Matvouio. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care [ Heit. Mal. Madam, yond’ young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he’s fortified agatist any denial. Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he’ll speak with you. (83) Pia mater. The thin membrane that covers the brain. See Note 46, Act iv., “Love’s Labour’s Lost.” This sentence is elliptical ; ‘who’ being understood before “ has.” (84) A plague o’ these pickle-herrings. The Folio omits the s from “herrings;’’ but “these”? makes it probable that the word is in the plural, unless intended for a drunken utterance. However this may be, the exclamation is admirably written ; conveying the effect of a hiccup in all its repulsive strength, yet maintained by dint of humorous expression within the range of comedy delinea- tion. There is also a possibility that Sir Toby’s ejaculation may have reference to this expression as a nickname; for in No. 47 of the “ Spectator ”’ we find a passage that thus explains the term :— “There is a set of merry drolls, whom the common people of all countries admire ;—those circumforaneous wits, whom every nation calls by the name of that dish of meat which it loves best. In Holland they are termed pickled herrings ; in France, Jean Potages ; in Italy, maccaronies; and in Great Britain, jack-puddings.”’ Thus, Sir Toby, asked what sort of gentleman the youth at the ate is, inteads to describe him scoffingly, while a reminiscence of es last-eaten provocative to drink disturbs him in the shape of a ccup. (85) How now, sot! Although Shakespeare uses “sot” else- where for ‘fool’ (see Note 5, Act iii., “ Merry Wives of Windsor ’’), yet here the humour consists in making the drunken man address the Clown as a drunkard; and he does so again in the last scene. (86) Well, it’s all one. It would be difficult to match this brief appearance of a man morning-fuddled, so wonderfully depicted, if we observe the very few words he utters, together with their perfect significance in characterisation. (87) One draught above heat. One draught more than that which suffices to warm a man to the proper pitch of glow described so appreciatively by Shakespeare himself, as ‘the warming of the -blood,” in Falstaff’s glorious speech on “sherrissack,” “ Second Part Henry IV.,” Act iv., se. 3. TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 603 Oli. Mal. What kind of man is he ? Why, of man kind. Oli. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner; he’ll speak with you, will you or no. Oli. Of what personage and years is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before ’tis a peascod, or a codling” when ’tis almost an apple: *tis with him e’en®! standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly ;°? one would think his mother’s milk were scarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentle- woman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [ Heit. Re-enter Marta. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o’er my face. We’ll once more hear Orsino’s embassy. Enter Viowa. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she ? Oli. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will? Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty,—I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con it.” Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible,*! even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. Ican say little more than I have studied, and that question’s out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest® assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. Oli. Are you a comedian ? 8 (88) A sheriffs post. It was the custom for a sheriff to have posts at his door, on which were affixed proclamations and other public acts. (89) A squash. An immature peas-pod. See Note 28, Act iii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.”’ (90) Codling. This word was used in Shakespeare’s time for an unripe and almost unformed apple; the particular sort of apple, now known by this name, not being then grown in England. (91) E’en. The Folio misprints ‘in’ for “e’en’’ here; a not infrequent typographical error in books of that time. See Note 10, Act iii, “ All’s Well that Ends Well.” (92) Shrewishly. Here used for sharply, pertly. It is worthy of note, not only how Olivia is so much struck by the sauciness of the page-messenger, whose manner is so different from the usual deference with which Orsino’s envoys treat her, as to interest her in the youth even before she sees him, but it is also to be remarked how Viola assumes flippancy when coming from the Duke, al- though, while in his house, speaking to either himself or his _gentlemen, she maintains the most quiet, distant, and even re- servedly dignified speech and conduct. (93) To con it. ‘l'o commit it to memory; to study it. See Note 16, Act v., “ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (94) Comptible. Strictly, ‘accountable;’ but here used for ‘susceptible,’ ‘sensitive.’ (95) Modest. Staid, discreet, moderately sufficing. ‘‘ Modest”’ is used in the same peculiar way at the commencement of “ Much Ado;” where the messenger says, “Joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.” (96) Are you a comedian? Olivia’s sarcasm at the acting a part which the delivery of a set speech implies; and which set speech Viola, in accordance with the fashion of the time (and still more in accordance with the feeling that prompts her at first to give an air of conventional homage to “Orsino’s embassy’’), affects to be charged with from the Duke. peer 604 Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice I swear Iam not that I play. Are you the lady of the house ? Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I ain. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself ; for, what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech® in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message. Oli. Come to what is important in’t: I forgive you the praise.” Vio. Alas! I took great pains to study it; and *tis poetical. Oli. It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates; and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad,'! be gone ; if you have reason, be brief: *tis not that time of moon with me?! to make one in so skipping!” a dialogue. Mar. way. Vio. No, good swabber ;!%° I am to hull here a little longer—Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I ama messenger.'% Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. your office. Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my hand; my words are as full of peace as matter. Oli. Yet you began rudely. what would you? Vio. The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment. What Iam, and what I would, are as secret as maidhood: to your ears, divinity; to any other’s, profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what is your text ? Vio. Speak What are you? Most sweet lady,— (97) This is from my commission. Shakespeare uses the word “from” with large significance of meaning. Here it is used for ‘apart from,’ ‘digressing from,’ ‘ other than,’ ‘irrelevant to.’ (98) I will on with my speech. Shakespeare uses “on’’ also with peculiar force of meaning. Here it means ‘go on,’ ‘ proceed,’ ‘continue.’ (99) I forgive you the praise. sense of ‘remit,’ ‘dispense with;’ *pardon’”’ for ‘excuse that which is due.’ “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (100) If you be not mad. This has been variously changed; by altering ‘‘not’’ to ‘but,’ and by omitting “not” altogether. We take the meaning of the passage, as it stands, to be: ‘If you be not deprived of reason;’ which gives the requisite effect of antithesis to “if you have reason” that follows. Shakespeare has sometimes these apparent antitheses; and here we believe that he means Olivia to say, ‘If you are not quite without reason, begone; if vou have some reason, be brief, that you may soon be gone;’ giving the effect of antithetical construction without actually being so. (101) Not that time of moon with me. It being believed that the moon, at certain periods, has special influence on the wits, Olivia means to say that she is not in a lunatic mood. bs (102) Skipping. Light, vain, irrational. See Note 48, Act ii, “Merchant of Venice.’ (103) No, good swabber. ‘‘Swabber”’ is a sweeper of a deck. «To hull” is to drive to and fro upon the water without sails or rudder. Viola humours Maria’s nautical expression of “hoist “Forgive”? is here used in the as elsewhere the poet uses See Note 36, Act ii., TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. {Act I. Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text ? Vio. In Orsino’s bosom. Oli. In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom ? Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. Oli. Oh, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say ? Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? you are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was as this presents :1% is’t not well done? [| Unveiling. Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Oli. °Tis in grain, sir; *twill endure wind and weather. Vio. °Tis beauty truly blent,' whose red and white Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy. Oli. Oh, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labelled to my will:—as, item, two lips, indifferent red ; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me 21% Vio. I see what you are,—you are too proud ; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you: oh, such love Could be but recompens’d, though you were crown’d The nonpareil of beauty ! Oli. How does he love me ? Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,!® With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Oli. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him : Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; In voices well divulg’d,' free, learn’d, and valiant ; sail.’ She proceeds to call her “ giant,” in allusion to the giants who guarded ladies of romance, and in ironical reference to the waiting-maid’s diminutive size. It is pleasant to see the playful tone that Viola falls into now that she is with those of her own sex, and how the woman naturally feels at ease among women. (104) Tell me your mind. I am amessenger. These two speeches, evidently belonging to the speakers to whom they are here assigned, in the Folio are printed all together, so as to form the conclusion of Viola’s previous words. Olivia bids the page tell her what he would have; and the page replies, ‘I am but a messenger, and am bound to tell you what he who sends me desires.’ Olivia’s subsequent words, “Speak your office ”—that is, ‘tell me then, as a messenger, if not as yourself ’—show this arrangement (first made by Warburton) to be the correct one. (105) Sucha one I was as this presents. The Folio prints ‘such a one I was this present;’ of which it is difficult to make sense. Mr. Singer suggested the reading we give in the text; and we adopt it as being the most probably correct one yet proposed. We imagine Olivia to be speaking with a kind of sportive indefiniteness, and to mean, ‘such a one I was, and am, as this represents;’ treating herself as a picture of herself. _ (106) Blent. Blended. The phrase is elliptical; meaning, ‘The picture is painted in colours truly blended.’ (107) To praise me? Olivia plays on the word “ praise,’ in the sense of ‘ extol,’ and of ‘ appraise,’ to value or estimate. ; (108) With fertile tears. The Folio omits “ with;’’ supplied by ope. (109) In voices well divulg’d. ‘In general opinion well reputed.’ SS QQ = SS SSS QAWN sy SS SSS \\ \“ . zs SS SS SS SS WN ‘ “a Xo = <8) So 7) ON Oo & 2 cs a5 5 46 \A The honourable lady of the house, which Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Viola Olivia. Lo ir eu | Scene I.] And, in dimension and the shape of nature, A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him ; He might have took his answer long ago. Vio. If I did love you in my master’s flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense ; T would not understand it. Oli. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house ; Write loyal cantons! of contemnéd love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; Holla your name to the reverberate’ hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air!” Cry out, Olivia! Oh, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me! Oli. You might do much. What is your parent- age ? Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: Iam a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your lord: T cannot love him: let him send no more; Unless, perchance, you come to me again, To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. Vio. Iam no fee’d post, lady; keep your purse: My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love ; TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 607 And let your fervour, like my master’s, be Plac’d in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. Oli. “ What is your parentage ?” “ Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: Tama gentleman.” Ill be sworn thou art; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon :—not too fast :—soft, soft ! Unless the master were the man.'"—How now! Hven so quickly may one catch the plague ? Methinks I feel this youth’s perfections, With an invisible and subtle stealth, To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.— What ho, Malvolio ! Re-enter Matvot.io. [Ewit. Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish! messenger, The county’s man:"° he left this ring behind him, Would I or not: tell him I’ll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with!" his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: Tf that the youth will come this way to-morrow, T’'ll give him reasons for’t. Hie thee, Malvolio. Mal. Madam, I will. [ Hatt. Oli. Ido I know not what; and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.’ Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe ;118 What is decreed must be,—and be this so! [ Heit. AvG | SCENE I.—The Sea-coast. Enter Antonto and SEBASTIAN. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Seb. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone : it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. (110) Cantons. A form of ‘ cantos ;’ portions or sections of a poem. (111) Reverberate. For ‘reverberant, or ‘reverberating.’ An adjective in a passive form with an active sense, was often used in Shakespeare’s time. (112) The babbling gossip of the air. Echo. d (113) Unless the master were the man. We take this to mean, “unless the master’s love for me were felt by the man.’ Startled to find herself carried away by a passion for one who has ex- pressed none for her, Olivia says this could only be justified by the page’s loving her as much as the Duke does. . (114) Peevish. ‘ Wayward,’ ‘wilful,’ ‘perverse.’ This word is usually explained to have been used to express ‘silly,’ ‘foolish ;” but we have shown that Shakespeare generally includes the sense of ‘self-willed’ and ‘headstrong’ in his employment of it. See Note 123, Act iii., “ As You Like It.” ; (115) The county’s man. “County,” or count, was used as a title for noblemen generally. . : (116) Flatter with. ‘An idiomatic form of expression, then in use, for ‘speak delusively,’ ‘say that which is fallaciously hopeful or agreeable.’ tele Seb. No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy.! But I perceive in you so ex- cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself.’ You must know of me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was . that Sebastian of Messaline,? whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned. (117) Fear to fear lest my a’ judgment.’ (118) Ourselves we do not owe. ‘We are not masters of ourselves,’ or ‘under our own control.’ “ Owe” is here used for ‘own,’ * possess.’ nd mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. ‘I iration of this youth prove stronger than my . (1) My determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. ‘The final point of my intended progress is rambling and uncertain.’ Shakespeare here uses “ determinate ’’ with a mingled sense of ‘ resolution’ and ‘termination,’ while employing “extravagancy” to signify “wander- ing’ and ‘ vacillation.’ (2) To express myself. ‘To confide to you who I am.’ Shake- speare’s delicacy of propriety in such questions of courtesy, due between man and man, cannot be too much admired and emulated. See Note 73, Act iii., ‘Merchant of Venice.” (3) Messaline. Both times that this name occurs in the play, the Folio spells it thus; and it is probably a poetically-invented name that Shakespeare gives to the birth-place of Viola and 608 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WW) EEA TO Ue Wee: Ant. Alas! the day. Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful : but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder,* overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her,—she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. Oh, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble! Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother,® that, upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. Iam bound to the Count Orsino’s court :° farewell. [ Hatt. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino’s court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But, come what may, I do adore thee so,’ That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. = [Eit. SCENE II.—A street. Enter Vioua, Marvonrio following. Mal. Olivia ? Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord’s taking of this. Receive it so.® Were not you even now with the Countess Sebastian. The real names most nearly approaching it are Mitylene and Messina. (4) Estimable wonder. In Shakespeare’s way of using the active and passive form, the one for the other (see Note 111, Acti.), we believe that he here uses “‘estimable”’ for ‘ estimating.’ There- fore, we take Sebastian to mean that though (because of her being thought to much resemble himself) he could not, with such estimat- ing admiration (as this which he had just cited--that she was “accounted beautiful’’), believe her beauty to be so excessive, yet he would fearlessly bear witness to her mental excellence. (5) So near the manners of my mother. This beautiful way of making a man say that he is almost betrayed into tears that more befit a woman, has been repeated by Shakespeare elsewhere. (6) Iam bound to the Count Orsino’s court. Be it remarked that the brother, as well as the sister, naturally repairs to one who was known to their father, and of whom they have heard him speak. See Note 22, Act i. (7) Ido adore thee so. There is great subtlety of dramatic art in thus making the sea-captain so bewitched and fascinated by the graces of young Sebastian; it admirably harmonises with and accounts for the enthralment of Olivia, and her spell-bound fancy for the twin-image that is to her one and the same person. (8) To report your lord’s taking of this. Receive it so. “This” and “it’’ here refer to the message now sent, not to the ring. Malvolio’s words mean—‘to report the way in which your lord takes what my lady says. Understand it thus.’ (9) She took the ring of me. Viola perceiving that Olivia has framed an excuse to blind her steward whom she sends, and willing to aid her in screening herself, accepts the version given of the ring’s having been sent from Orsino to the Countess; which, more- over, affords a ready and plausible motive for refusing to take it now herself. (10) Her eyes had lost her tongue. “Lost” is here used in the [Acr IT. Vio. She took the ring of me ;°—T’ll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned; if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [ Exit. Vio. Ileft no ringwith her: what means this lady? Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm’d her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,” For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none. I am the man :—if it be so,—as ’tis,— Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant!! enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper-false” In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms ! Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; For such as we are made of, such we be."3 How will this fadge?'* my master loves her dearly ; And I, poor monster, fond" as much on him; And she, mistaken,'® seems to dote on me. What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my master’s love ; As I am woman,—now alas! the day,— What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ! O Time, thou must untangle this, not I ;17 It is too hard a knot for me t’ untie! [tart, SCENE III.—A room in Ourvi1a’s house. Enter Str Tosy Betcu and Str AnpREw AGUECHEEK. Sir To. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere,'® thou knowest,— Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late is to be up late. sense of ‘ bewildered,’ ‘confounded,’ ‘confused,’ ‘deprived of its right powers.’ Olivia’s eyes, fixed upon the page, and absorbed in looking on him, allowed her speech to wander incoherently. (11) Pregnant. Here used for ‘dextrous,’ ‘adroit,’ ‘artful.’ Shakespeare employs the word for well skilled (see Note 6, Act i., ““Measure for Measure’’), and for skilful in working harm. (12) Proper-false. A compound word employed to express ‘specious,’ ‘fair-seeming;’ at once handsome and delusive. The whole sentence means— How easy is it for those who look fair, and are false, to make an impression on women’s soft hearts!’ “Proper’’ is often used for ‘handsome,’ ‘comely,’ ‘ good-looking.’ See Note 1, Act iv., ““ Two Gentlemen of Verona.’’ (13) Such as we are made of, such we be. The Folio misprints ‘if’ for “of” here. Tyrwhitt first suggested the correction. (14) How will this fadge? ‘How will this ultimately accord ?’ “Fadge” means ‘suit,’ ‘fit,’ ‘occur accordantly.’ See Note 43, Act v., “Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (15) Fond. Here used as an active verb; for ‘love fondly,’ “dote.’ Viola calls herself by the whimsical epithet “ poor monster,” in allusion to her seeming manhood and real woman. hood ; combining, as it were, the two sexes in her own person. (16) And she, mistaken. ‘“‘ And” here has been changed to ‘as;’ but “and” gives just the effect of iteration required by Viola’s enumeration of the various contrarieties that succeed each other in the case she is considering. (17) O Time, thow must, &c. Again does Viola, with the spirit of gentle reliance that characterises her, commit the solution of her difficulties to Time and its benign sway. See Note 22, Acti. (18) Diluculo surgere. Sir Toby carelessly quotes but a portion of the Latin proverb, Diluculo surgere saluberrimum est ; which, being interpreted, is, ‘To rise early is most wholesome.’ The commen- tators mention that this proverb is found in Lily’s Grammar; probably in confirmation of their theory adverted to in Note 39, Scene IIL] Sir To. Scene IIT] remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up !* Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you.” My lady bade me tell you, that, though she har- bours you as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. Sir To. (Singing. ] Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.” Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby. Clo. [Singing.] His eyes do show his days are almost done. Mal. Is’t even so? Sir To. [S inging. | But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Sir To. [Singing.] -Shall I bid him go? Clo. [Singing.] What an if you do? Sir To. [Singing.] Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. [Singing.] Oh, no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o’ time, sir?*® ye lie—Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth too. Sir To. Thou’rt ? the right.—Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs.*°—A stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s favour at anything more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule ;*' she shall know of it, by this hand. [ Hait. Mar. Go shake your ears. Sir And. ’Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man’s a-hungry, to challenge him to the field, and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do’t, knight: Tl write thee a chal- lenge; or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night: since the youth of the count’s was to-day with my (45) Sneck up! This was a scoffing interjection, tantamount to ‘go hang!’ and here has the added humorous effect of a hiccup. (46) Round with you. ‘Blunt with you,’ ‘frank with you.’ See Note 10, Act ii., “ Comedy of Errors.” fy (47) Farewell, dear heart, since I, &c._ This ballad, containing some of the snatches quoted alternately by Sir, Toby and the lei appears in the first volume of Percy’s * Reliques of Ancient oetry.”” (48) Out 0’ time, sir? The Folio prints ‘tune’ instead of “time” (Theobald’s correction); and perhaps ‘tune’ was here used in the sense of “‘time,’’ as we have shown was the case formerly. See Note 24, Act v., “As You Like It.” But as Sir Toby seems to refer to Malvolio’s previous words, and his own rejoinder, it seems probable that “time” was the word, repeated exactly, having left ts sound on the knight’s ear, and merely misprinted. “ Time ” and ‘tune,’ the one word erroneously printed for the other, was a frequent typographical mistake. (49) Because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? A fling at Malvolio’s Puritanism; the Puritans being violent de- nouncers of merry-makings, cake-eatings, carousals, and such other customary observances of holidays and festivals in old England. The Clown follows this up by swearing “by Saint Anne ;” the TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 611 lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Matvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull hin into a nay-word,* and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it. Sir To. Possess** us, possess us; tell us some- thing of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. Oh, if I thought that, ’d beat him like a dog. Sir To. What! for being a Puritan? thy ex- quisite reason, dear knight ? Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enough.*® Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any- thing constantly, but a time-pleaser; an_affec- tioned *® ass, that cons*” state without book, and utters it by great swarths ;** the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellences, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated: I can write very like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. Sir And. I have’t in my nose too. Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she’s in love with him. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sir And. And your horse, now, would make him an ass. Mar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir And. Oh, ’twill be admirable ! Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will work with him. I will plant you two, ‘and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. Puritans not only objecting to swearing, but having peculiar oecnee of invoking the saints, as well as of observing saints’ ays. (50) Rub your chain with crumbs. It was usual with stewards in great houses to wear a gold chain, as.a badge of office, and mark of distinction over inferior servants; and these chains were kept bright by rubbing them with bread-crumbs. (51) Rule. Here used for ‘revel;’ in the same way as we have pointed out in Note 25, Act iii., “ Midsummer Night's Dream.” (52) Challenge him to the field. The Folio omits “to” here. ___ (58) A nay-word. The Folio prints ‘an ayword’ here; but_as Shakespeare uses ‘‘nay-word,”’ it is probably the term here. See Note 45, Act ii., “Merry Wives.” There it is used more in the sense of ‘watchword;’ here, more in the sense of ‘ byword.’ (54) Possess. ell, inform. See Note 9, Act iv., “ Measure for Measure.” (55) Reason good enough. The bullying coward Sir Andrew’s reason was all-sufficient ; inasmuch as the Puritans were known to conscientiously avoid fighting. (56) Affectioned. . Used here for ‘affected.’ (57) Cons. Here used for ‘ knows by rote,’ “has by heart;’ so as to repeat it “without book.” (58) Swarths. Swarth, or swath, is as much grass as a mower en eee EEL EEE SISSIES ER 612 TIWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.*? [Heit Marta. Sir And. Before me, she’s a good wench. Sir To. She’s a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: what o’ that? Sir And, I was adored once too. Sir To. Let’s to bed, knight.—Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i’ the end, call me cut.®! Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir To. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack ;” *tis too late to go to bed now; come, knight; come, knight. | Kxeunt. SCENE IV.—An apartment in the Duxn’s palace. Enter Durr, Viota, Curio, and others. Duke. Give me some music :—now, good mor- row, friends :— Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night: Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs, and recollected terms,® Of these most brisk and giddy-pacéd times :— Come, but one verse. Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste,** the jester, my lord; a fool that the Lady Olivia’s father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out:—and play the tune the while. [Hxit Curio. Music. Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, cuts at one stroke of his scythe; and figuratively represents the pompous sweep of sentence that a large talker promulgates. (59) Penthesilea. A queen of the Amazons, who fought with Achilles. Sir Toby calls Maria thus, in ironical allusion to her unmartial dimensions, as well as in compliment to her prowess. (60) If I cannot recover your niece. Shakespeare sometimes, as here, uses “‘recover”’ for ‘ attain,’ ‘ reach to.’ (61) Call me cut. This phrase, and “call me horse,’ were synonymous with ‘abuse me,’ ‘reproach me.’ “Cut” was one name for a horse; probably an abbreviation of ‘ curtal,’ or ‘ curtail.’ See Note 79, Act ii., *‘ All’s Well.” (62) I'll go burn some sack. See Note 42, Act iii., “Merry Wives.’’ (63) Recollected terms. By this expression the poet probably means what musicians call ‘phrases of repetition,’ or ‘passages of imitation ;’ where rapid successions of notes, and florid ornamenta- tion, produce the effect of liveliness which the Duke’s love- melancholy shrinks from, and contrast with the simplicity he so much prefers. (64) Feste. Shakespeare’s aptly-invented name for this, one of his pleasantest clowns; from the Italian word festeggiante, which Florio explains—‘ Feasting, merrie, banqueting, pleasant, of good entertainment.’ (65) Speak masterly. This is one of the few instances where Shake- speare indirectly (and of course unconsciously) comments upon himself. That the comment is here highly commendatory is, as it were, forced from him by the exigencies of dramatic truth in the situation, and by the verity of beauty in the words commented upon. Certainly there never was more “masterly speaking” on the effect produced by music upon a nature sensitively alive to its pees influences, than Viola’s few but intensely expressive words. (66) A little, by your favour. Viola says this ostensibly in the [Acr II In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; For such as I am all true lovers are,— Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the constant image of the creature That is belov’d.—How dost thou like this tune ? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is thron’d. Duke. Thou dost speak masterly :® My life upon’t, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay’d upon some favour that it loves ;— Hath it not, boy ? Vio. A little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is’t? Vio. Of your complexion. Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, 1’ faith ? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by Heaven: let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband’s heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,™ Than women’s are. Vio. I think it well, my lord. Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent ;® For women are as roses, whose fair flower Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour. Vio. And so they are: alas! that they are so,— To die, even when they to perfection™ grow ! Re-enter Curto with Clown. Duke. Oh, fellow, come, the song we had last night.— Mark it, Cesario ; it is old and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids” that weave their thread with bones, sense of ‘a little, by your leave;’ but she secretly says it in con- sonance with the sense in which the Duke uses the word “ favour ” (‘ look,’ ‘aspect,’ ‘countenance’), meaning, ‘I have suffered mine eye to rest upon your own countenance.’ And how well the words “a little’’ serve to denote the shy, timid, occasional glances that she has allowed herself to indulge in, when his not observing her has favoured her looking upon him! (67) Worn. It was proposed by Johnson, who has been followed by some editors, to change “worn’’ to ‘won’ here. We think that “worn’’ is here much the more Shakesperian word, as signify- ing ‘ worn out,’ ‘worn away,’ ‘obliterated ;’ and that it more strictly consists with the context than ‘won’ would do. The reason that Johnson gives for preferring ‘lost and won’ (‘‘these two words,” he says, “coming usually and naturally together’’), is the very cause why we do not believe that the post placed them here in con- ventional conjunction ; for, as we have before shown (see Note 47, Act iv., “ All’s Well’’), Shakespeare often gives the effect of one word to another by his introduction of the latter in a sentence where usually the former is employed. (68) Hold the bent. ‘ Bide the strain,’ ‘maintain, or endure the tension ;’ ‘ bent’ being a technicality in archery for the degree of flexure to which a bow was drawn. Shakespeare uses the word “bent” with peculiar and forcible meaning. See Note 71, Act ii., “ Much Ado.” (69) Perfection. This word, as used here, not only applies to the blown beauty of the rose, but has figurative reference to the full loveliness of a woman when matched with her chosen manly counter- part in married union; thus affording corroboration to the readin of “ perfection’ instead of ‘perfections’ in a previous passage 0 the present play. See Note 13, Act i. (70) The free maids. The word “‘free’’ was used by Chaucer, and sometimes by Shakespeare (as here), to express ‘pure,’ ‘ chaste,’ ‘free from vicious taint.’ BELLLLZZLLZL ie iy Sif Scene I Act IT. sirP sing. a iy) ~ : } ythee, pr > | | i \ Are you ready, GE Clown. Duke. H = : os ae l y ZB ; * ' , y - 7 . ¢ a - = r “* ‘ = sh 3 i * a 2 1 * a - * ra ge trom tT) te ~ if ‘ th ‘4. Soa zai ' “e a ¢ me 4 ES 4 ' '- o¢ is a aa +, eit ee ery ra ee, Ai e ' Scenz IV.] Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,” And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.” Clo. Are you ready, sir? Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing. [ Music. Sone. Clo. Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress @ let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath ; Tam slain bya fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, Oh, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.4 Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, oh, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there! Duke. There’s for thy pains. Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Duke. ll pay thy pleasure then. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.” Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta,” for thy mind is a very opal !7“—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere ; for that’s it that always makes a good voyage of nothing.— Farewell. [ Hatt. Duke. Tet all the rest give place. [Exeunt Curio and Attendants. Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yond’ same sovereign cruelty: Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ; The parts that fortune hath bestow’d upon her, Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune ; But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems,” That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul. (71) Silly sooth. Simple truth. (72) The old age. ‘ The antique age,’ ‘ the primitive age.’ (73) Cypress. By this word it is not quite certain whether a coffin of cypress-wood, or a shroud of cypress (or cyprus, the then name for what we call ‘crape’), was meant; since it may refer either to the “black coffin,’ or the “ white shroud.” In this play, Olivia says “a cyprus, not a bosom, hides my heart; ” and in the “ Winter’s Tale,’ Act iv., sc. 3, we find— © Lawn as white as driven snow, Cyprus black as e’er was crow.” Cyprus, or crape, was made in both black and white. (74) My part of death, no one so true did share it. “No one so true as I did ever take part in death’s tragedy.’ (75) Pleasure will be paid, one time or another. One of the beauti- fully wise and largely significant axioms that we owe to Shake- speare’s fools; his fools have in their folly a reflection of their deviser’s wit—wit replete with acute truth in playful expression. (76) Changeable taffeta. What is now called ‘shot silk.’ (77) Opal. A precious stone that displays varying colours according to the lights in which it is viewed. It is worthy of remark that this touch, indicating the variable hues in the Duke’s mood—supported by just such another in the first scene, where we also find him abruptly breaking off from listening to music, with con- fessed restlessness and alteration of hamour—harmonises with, and suitably prepares the subsequent facile transposition of his fancy from Olivia to Viola. How well, too, it agrees with what he himself says of men’s “fancies”’ being “more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, than women’s are.” So naturally, so consistently, so characteristically does Shakespeare write ! TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 615 Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir? Duke. I cannot be so answer’d.” Vio. 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 P Duke. There is no woman’s sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart So big, to hold so much: they lack retention.” Alas! their love may be call’d appetite,— No motion of the liver, but the palate,— That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt ; But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much: make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe Olivia. Vio. Ay, but I know,— Duke. What dost thou know ? Vio. 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 ? Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm 7’ 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? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father’s house,* And all the brothers too ;—and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady? Duke. Ay, that’s the theme. To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay.”” [Hxeunt. (78) That miracle and queen of gems. ‘That fair frame,’ ‘that beauteous person.’ To“ prank’’ is to ‘adorn,’ to ‘set forth advan- tageously.’ (79) Icannot be soanswer’d. The Folio misprints ‘it’ for “I” here ; which the “you” in the next speech shows to be right. (20) They lack retention. This, from the Duke—who has lately affirmed that women’s love is firmer and more lasting than men’s— is but another point in keeping with his opal-hued mind. He one moment owns his sex’s fickleness, the next maintains its superior strength of passion; in one speech, proclaims women’s greater constancy; in another, accuses them of incapacity for steady attachment. ($1) Was not this love indeed? It is as if the poet were hurried away by the force of his own exquisite description, and were involuntarily impelled to make the speaker ask this. (82) Will. Here used for ‘ resolute intention,’ ‘fixed purpose.’ (83) Iam all the daughters of my father’s house. Shakespeare, in such speeches as these, has not only shown his knowledge of the depths of feminine nature, but the utmost grace, refinement, and delicacy in fancy of which enigmatic reply is susceptible. See Note 95, Acti., “ All’s Well.” (84) And yet Iknow not. This romentary wancering of thought to the possibility of her brother Sebastian’s survival, and then her recollection, and return to present passing interests, which will not only serve her to recover herself, but which effectually divert the Duke from dwelling upon her words and reading their full meaning, are all in the highest and purest taste. (85) My love can give no place, bide no denay. ‘ My love can never withdraw itself, can bide no denial.’ To ‘give place,’ as an idiom for ‘retire,’ or ‘withdraw,’ is used just previously; where Orsino Pus re a nt 616 SCENE V.—Ouiv1a’s garden. Enter Str Tony Betcu, Sir ANDREW AGUECHEEKR, and Fasian. Sir To. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, Vil come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter*® come by some notable shame ? Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o’ favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here. Sir To. To anger him, we’ll have the bear again ; and we will fool him black and blue :—shall we not, Sir Andrew ? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Sir To. Here comes the little villain. Enter Marta. How now, my nettle of India !* Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Mal- volio’s coming down this walk: he has been yonder?’ the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.}| Lie thou there [throws down a letter] ; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [ Exit. Enter Marvouio. Mal. ’Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she* did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on’t? Sir To. Here’s an overweening rogue! Fab. Oh, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets® under his advanced plumes ! says, “ Let all the rest give placa.”’ To “denay” was an old form of the verb to ‘deny,’ and Shakespeare has used it substantively, to afford a rhyme with “say.” (86) Sheep-biter. A cant term for a paltry thief. See Note 35, Act v., “ Measure for Measure.” (87) Nettle of India. The first Folio prints ‘ mettle,’ which some editors have changed to ‘metal,’ while the second Folio gives ‘nettle.’ We adopt the latter reading as far the likeliest word to be here used. Sir Toby would hardly use “metal of India’’ as a round-about way of calling Maria ‘gold’ for a golden girl, or a heart of gold; while he would naturally allude to her stinging qualities when waiting for “the little villain” to practise her sharp, practical jest upon Malvolio. In Greene’s “Card of Fancie,” 1608, there is mention made of “the flower of India, pleasant to be seen, but whoso smelleth to it feeleth present smart.” And the same author alludes to it in his ‘‘ Mamilia,’’ 1593. (88) She. Here used in reference to the unnamed Olivia, not to the just-named Maria; affording an instance of the way in which Shakespeare sometimes employs a relatively-used pronoun. See Note 76, Act iii., “ All’s Well.”’ ? (89) Jets. Struts; walks with pompous juttings-out of his person. (90) The lady of the Strachy. “ Strachy,’’ printed in the Folio with a capital S, and in italics, we believe to be an instance of Shakespeare’s way of anglicising the spelling of an Italian word for the pronunciation of his actors. See Note 56, Act i., “ Taming of the Shrew.” It was most likely intended for Stracci, which Florio explains to be ‘ rags, clouts, totters, torne or rent rags ;’ and which is used by Malvolio with a “the” before it, as if it were the name of a noble family of Italy, like the Strozzi, the Orsini, &c. That, while it seemed to be the title of a lady of rank, it really bore the significance of ‘the lady of rags-and-tatters,’ makes for the TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. | Act, Ie Sir And. ’Slight, I could so beat the rogue! Sir To. Peace, I say. Mal. To be Count Malvolio,— Sir To. Ah, rogue! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir To. Peace, peace! Mal. There is example for’t; the tady of the Strachy* married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel! *! Fab. Oh, peace! now he’s deeply in: look how imagination blows him.” Mal. Waving been three months married to her, sitting in my state,— Sir To. Oh, for a stone-bow,** to hit him in the eye! : Mal. Calling my officers about me in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed,* where I have left Olivia sleeping,— Sir To. Fire and brimstone! Fab. Oh, peace, peace ! Mal. And then to have the humour of state ; and after a demure travel of regard,—telling them I know my place, as I would they should do theirs,—to ask for my kinsman Toby,— Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! Fab. Oh, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court’sies® there to me,— Sir To. Shall this fellow live ? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars,”® yet peace. Mal. J extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control,— Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow of the lips then ? Mal. Saying, “Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech,” — Sir To. What, what ? probability of its being intended to come in conjunction with “the yeoman of the wardrobe.” The latter term is also found in Florio’s Dictionary, as the explanation of the Italian word Vestiario; and we think the circumstance of both these points occurring in Florio (an author whose works were evidently le known to Shakespeare, as there is also evidence that he himself was a personal acquaintance of our poet) makes for our interpretation of “Strachy.” We may mention, as a slight corroboration, that Stracey is thus printed in Florio; which Italian form of j for a final i gives somewhat the effect of the final y in the Folio-printed “ Strachy.” We here take occasion to point out that Florio spells “tatters ”’ with an o; ‘totters’ being at that time a form of “tatters,” as will hereafter be shown. (91) Fie on him, Jezebel! Sir Andrew merely knows this name as a term of reproach; and his applying a woman’s name to a man is of a piece with his usual accomplishments. (92) Blows him. ‘ Swells him ;’ ‘ puffs him up.’ (93) A stone-bow. A cross-bow for discharging stones. Me A day-bed. The then name for what is now called a couch or sofa. (95) Court’sies. Used for a man’s salutation as well as a woman’s. See Note 18, Act iv., “ Taming of the Shrew.” (96) Drawn from us with cars. There have been various substi- tutions proposed and adopted for the word “cars” here; but, to our minds, the figure of dragging silence from them by means of “cars” (suggested by the word “ drawn’’), is no more forced than Launce’s “a team of horse shill not pluck that from me” (“Two Gentlemen of Verona,’ Act iii., sc. 1), or than Sir Toby’s sub- sequent expression—“oxen and wain-ropes cannot hale them together,” in Act iii., sc. 2, of the present play. That “‘cars”’ was a name in familiar use in Shakespeare’s time for ‘carts,’ is testified by his use elsewhere of the words “ carman” and “ carmen.” WY == ta All | ly Ms i Mal. ‘‘ And wished to see thee cross-gartered.” Oli. Cross-gartered ! ‘ Mal. “Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to € 80377 — Oli. Am Imade?** Mal. “If not, let me see thee a servant still.” Oli. Why, this is very midsummer madness. Enter Servant. Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino’s is returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship’s pleasure. Oli. Vil come to him. [Kuzit Servant.] Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where’s my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special eare of him: I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [EHxeunt Oxrrvia and Marta. Mal. Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me? This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. “ Cast thy humble slough,” says she ; “ be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity ;” —and, consequently, sets down the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her ;°° but it is Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went away now, “ Let this fellow be looked to:” fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.” Why, everything ings,’ observing that Olivia has no idea that Malvolio is quoting from the letter ; but she merely echoes his words, and she sees his yellow stockings upon him. ‘Then, when she hears him persevere with “‘ see thee cross-gartered,” and “ thou art made,’’ she answers, “Am I made P” (55) Am I made? It has been strangely suggested that here Olivia is meant to say ‘Am I maid ?’ on the supposition that John Manningham was right in representing her to be a widow lady. (See Note 19, Acti.) But Olivia’s surprise is at hearing that she, the rich heiress, the lady of rank, the noble and wealthy countess, should be supposed to have a chance of making her fortune, of becoming ‘a made woman.’ (56) I have limed her. Caught her as a bird is caught with bird- lime. See Note 16, Act iii., “ Much Ado about Nothing.’ (57) Fellow. He takes this word in its sense of ‘ equal,’ ‘ peer,’ * companion.’ 628 adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scrzple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous® or unsafe circumstance—What can be said? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and the full pros- pect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Re-enter Marta with Str Tosy Betcu and Fastran. Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanc- tity? If all the devils, and Legion himself possessed him, yet Pll speak to him. Fab. Here he is, here he is.—How is ’t with you, sir? how is ’t with you, man ? Mal. Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private; go off. Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not I tell you?—Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. Mal. Ah, ha! does she so? Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently with him: let me alone-—How do you, Malvolio? how is *t with you? What, man! defy the devil: consider, he’s an enemy to mankind. Mal. Do you know what you say? Mar. La you! an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray Heaven, he be not bewitched ! Fab. Ask the advice of the wise woman. Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow My lady would not lose him for morning, if [ live. more than I’ll say. Mal. How now, mistress! Mar. O Lord! Yirv To. Pr’ythee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do you not see you move him? let me alone with him. fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock ! © how dost thou, chuck ? Mal. Sir! Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What! man; *tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit®! with Satan: hang him, foul collier ! Mar. Get him to say his prayers; good Sir Toby, get him to pray. Mal. My prayers, minx ! Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. (58) Adheres. Shakespeare uses this word here and elsewhere in the sense of ‘ coheres,’ ‘is consistent with.’ (59) Ineredulous. Here used for ‘incredible.’ As Shakespeare sometimes uses words ending in “ ble,” employing the passive form in an active sense, so he occasionally uses the active form passively. See Note 54, Act ii., “As You Like It.’’ (60) Bawcock. A term of jocose admiration; from the French, beau coq, fine cock. (61) Cherry-pit. A boy’s game ; played by pitching cherry-stones into a hole. (62) Collier. A term of strong vituperation in Shakespeare’s time, from the noted cheating of coal-venders, and from their habitual blackness. (63) I am not of your element. Here Malvolio falls into the modish practice of using this word, explained in Note 8 of this Act ; and it is employed in the present passage somewhat in the same sense as in the passage there. Here it means ‘sphere,’ there it means ‘ province.’ (64) In a dark room and bound. The treatment then usual for madmen. \65) Finder of madmen. In a trial where there is a case of lunacy to be proved or disproved, the legal expression on the occasion is. TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Acr III. Mal. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element:® you shall know more hereafter. [ Keit. Sir To. Is ’t possible ? Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man. Mar. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air, and taint. Fab. Why, we shall make him mad indeed. Mar. The house will be the quieter. Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound.*! My niece is already in the belief that he’s mad: we may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which time we will bring the device to the bar, and crown thee fora finder of madmen.®— But see, but see. fab. More matter for a May morning. Enter Str ANDREW AGUECHEEKR. Sir And. Here’s the challenge, read it: I war- rant there’s vinegar and pepper in ’t. Fab. Is ’t so saucy? Sir And. Ay, is *t, I warrant him: do but read. Sir T 0. Give me. [ Reads. | Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow. Fab. Good, and valiant. Sir To. [ Reads. ] Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for ’t. Fab. A good note: that keeps you from the blow of the law. Sir To. (Reads.] Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou lest in thy throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for. Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense— less.°7 Sir To. [ Reads. | I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me,— Fab. Good. Sir To. [ Reads. | Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain. Fab. Still you keep o’ the windy side of the law :% good. Sir To. [ Reads. | Fare thee well; and Heaven have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine: but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, ANDREW AGUECHEEK. that the court tries if the person be ‘found mad;’ and there are also inquests held for the ‘finding of madmen;’ the expression in the text is therefore a kind of legal technicality. J (66) For a May morning. In ‘merry England’ times, May-day was the special epoch for sports and diversions of all kinds— tricks, jests, comic interludes, &c., as well as dances and other pastimes. Fie (67) And exceeding good sense—less. The Folio inserts ‘to’ between “and” and “exceeding,” which some editors retain. Rowe was the first to perceive that it should be omitted. ; (68) O° the windy side of the law. Shakespeare uses the “ windy side”’ for the ‘safe side,’ ‘the side protected from the wind.’ See Note 43, Act ii., “Much Ado.” One reason why it is used thus for ‘the advantageous side’ may be traced to the idiomatic expression ‘get the wind of,’ explained in Note 75, Act iii., “All’s Well.” Fabian’s telling Sir Andrew that he keeps on the windy side of the law, refers to the knight’s phraseology in the letter: which by the then ‘laws of the Duello,’ made it safe to say “like a rogue and a villain,” but not safe to add thereto ‘as thou arc:’ “like a rogue anda villain *’ might be explained away, while ‘like a rogue and a villain, as thou art,’ was an affront only to be expiated by coming to “a mortal arbitrement.” cf Scene IV.] If this letter move him not, his legs cannot; T’ll give *t him. Mar. You may have very fit occasion for ’t: he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by-and-by depart. Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailie: so soon TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 629 comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receive it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and im- petuosity. This will so fright them both, that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.” = = \ iW \ \ ( A ep \ \ EZ Cea + oree: Wy Wifey = Apo wk Dy WZ. 4 EATON Sir Andrew Aguecheek. as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, swear horrible ; for it comes to pass oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away! Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Hvit. Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth,—he will find it (69) Swear horrible. adverbially. (70) Like cockatrices. The cockatrice was a fabulous animal, described as having the body of a serpent and the head of a cock. It was said to have so evil an eye as to kill by its look. Some authorities made it to be the same with the basilisk, while others held them to be different creatures. (71) Laid mine honour too unchary out. The Folio prints ‘on’t’ for “out,’? Theobald’s correction. Reluctant as we are to change “ Horrible” for ‘ horribly,’ an adjective used Here’s the challenge, read it: I warrant there’s vinegar and pepper in ’t. Act III. Scene LV. Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give them way till he take leave, and presently after him. Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. [Haeunt Sir Tosy, Fanran, and Marta. Re-enter Outvia, with Vion. Oli. Ihave said too much unto a heart of stone, And laid mine honour too unchary out :” There’s something in me that reproves my fault ; But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof. the old text whenever it may afford a meaning, we think the Folio word here allows but so forced an interpretation to the passage as to make for the probability that ‘on’t’ is a misprint for “out.” Were we to abide by ‘on’t,’ we could only interpret the line to mean, ‘ And have staked mine honour too recklessly on the chance of winning that heart of stone,’ in the same elliptical mode of ex- pression as ocenrs in Act iii, sc. 7, of “ All’s Well,’ where the ‘Widow says, “ He persists, as if his life lay on’t.”’ All things con- sidered, therefore, we believe “laid mine honour too unchary o1t ” 630 Vio. With the same *haviour that your passion bears, Go on my master’s griefs. Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me,”—’tis my picture ; Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you: And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. What shall you ask of me that Ill deny, That honour, savy’d, may upon asking give ? Vio. Nothing but this,—your true love for my master. Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you? Vio. I will acquit you. Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well: A fiend like thee might bear my soulaway. [Hvit. Re-enter Str Topsy Betcu and Fasran. Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. Vio. And you, sir. Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to *t: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end: dismount thy tuck,” be yare™ in thy prepara- tion; for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly. Vio. You mistake, sir, [am sure; no man hath any quarrel to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man. Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath can furnish man withal. Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he ? Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on carpet consideration ;7> but he is a devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob,’ is his word; give *t or take ’t. Vio. I will return again into the house, and desire some conduct” of the lady. Iam no fighter. to have been what Shakespeare wrote; “unchary ” being used for ‘uncharily ’ (prodigally, lavishly), and “laid out’? being employed in the same sense as where Imogen says, “ You lay out too much pains for purchasing but trouble”’ (“ Cymbeline,”’ Act ii., sc. 3). The line also, as given in the text, includes the sense of ‘ exposed mine honour too heedlessly to the imputation of unreserve.’ (72) Wear this jewel forme. “‘Jewel’’ was formerly used not merely for a single precious stone, but for a jewelled of costly ornament. (73) Dismount thy tuck. Draw thy sword. The “tuck”? was a rapier, latelier called ‘a small sword.’ Italian, stocco. (74) Yare. Prompt, quick, brisk. See Note 2, Act i., “Tempest.” (75) Dubbed with unhatched rapier and on carpet consideration. ‘Dubbing’ a knight was the technical expression for creating a knight; some deriving it from the Saxon, dubban, to strike (knights being made by a blow on the shoulder from the flat of a sword); some deriving it from the old French word, adouber, to invest with the arms and dignity of a professor of chivalry. ‘“ Unhatched”’ was synonymous with ‘unhacked ;’ French, hacher,.to eut, to chop, to hack. A knight “on carpet consideration’’ signified a knight created in times of peace, kneeling on a carpet, and not on the field of battle. There is frequent contemptuous reference in writers of Shakespeare’s time to these ‘carpet knights,’ as they were styled. See Note 55, Act v., “Much Ado about Nothing.” TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Acr III. T have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste?’ their valour: belike this is a man of that quirk.” Sir To. Sir, no; his indignation derives- itself out of a very competent injury: therefore, get you on, and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me, which with as much safety you might answer him ; therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle® you must, that’s certain, or forswear to wear iron about you. Vio. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. Sir To. Iwill do so.—Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [ Hartt. Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter ? Fab. I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement ;*! but nothing of the circumstance more. Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he ? Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite® that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? Iwill make your peace with him, if I can. Vio. Ishall be much bound to you for *t: Iam one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [| Heeunt. Re-enter Str Topy Bretcu and Str Anprew Acur- CHEEK. Sir To. Why, man, he’s a very devil; I have not seen such a firago.® I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck in,** with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you® as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on: they say he has been fencer to the Sophy.*é Sir And. Plague on ’t, I'll not meddle with him. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified : Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. Sir And. Plague on ’t, an I thought he had been (76) Hob, nob. This familiar expression, used in drinking as well as in fighting, is probably a corruption of ‘ hab or nab,’ and derived from the Saxon, habban, to have, and nabban, not to have. In Holinshed we find that the citizens ‘shot habbe or nabbe at random.’ (77) Conduct. Here used for ‘ escort’ or ‘ convoy.’ (78) Taste. Here used for ‘ test,’ ‘try,’ or ‘prove.’ See Note i5 of this Act. (79) Quirk. ‘Whim,’ ‘freak ;’ “a man of that quirk” means ‘a man addicted to such whims.’ (80) Meddle. Used as “mell”’ is, for ‘deal with,’ ‘ engage with.’ See Note 58, Act iv., “ All’s Well.” (81) A mortal arbitrement. ‘A deadly decision;’ ‘an arbitration by the sword.’ (82) Opposite. See Note 38 of this Act. (83) Firago. Sir Toby’s pronunciation of ‘virago ;’ which being applied generally to a woman, has a doubly droll effect applied e the girl-page, who looks so meek, and is reported to be so erce. (84) The stuck in. A term of the fencing school; Italian, stoccata. See Note 28, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” (85) He pays you. See Note 41, Act iv., “Merry Wives.” (86) The Sophy. See Note 115, Act ii. a Scenz IV.] valiant and so cunning in fence, I’d have seen him hanged ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and [ll give him my horse, grey Capilet. Sir To. Tl make the motion: stand here, make a good show on ’*t: this shall end without the perdi- tion of souls.—[Aside.] Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. Re-enter Fastan and Vioua. [Aside to Fastan.] I have his horse to take up the quarrel :*7 IT have persuaded him the youth’s a devil. Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him ;* and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. - Sir To. [To Viowa.|] There’s no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for ’s oath sake: marry, he hath better bethought him. of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you. Vio. [Aside.]| Pray Heaven defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much TI lack of a man. Fab. (To Vioua.| Give ground, if you see him furious. Sir To. Come, Sir Andrew, there’s no remedy ; the gentleman will, for his honour’s sake, have one bout with you; he cannot by the duello™ avoid it: but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to ’t. Sir And. [Aside.| Pray Heaven, he keep his oath ! | Draws. Vio. [To Fasran.] I do assure you, ’tis against my will. [ Draws. Enter ANTONIO. Ant. Put up your sword. If this young gentle- man Have done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defy you. Sir To. You, sir! why, what are you? Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker,” I am for ou. [ Draws. Fab. Oh, good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers. Sir To. [To Antonto.] Dll be with you anon. Vio. [To Str Anprew.] Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.*! Sir And. Marry, will I, sir;—and, for that I [ Drawing. (87) To take wp the quarrel. As we should now say, ‘to make up the quarrel.’ See Note 28, Act v.,“ As You Like It.” (88) He is as horribly conceited of him. ‘He has the same horrible conception of him.’ (89) By the duello. According to the laws of duelling. There were works upon the duello, setting forth its rules; by which gentlemen regulated their conduct with the utmost punctilio. See Note 37, Act v., “As You Like It.’’ (90) An undertaker. One willing to undertake another’s quarrels. (91) If ae please. The exquisite humour, and perfectly charac- teristic effect of these three words in Viola’s mouth, at this juncture, are delightful. (92) And reins well. The comic effect of this mysterious reference to “grey Capilet,” the horse promised for “letting the matter slip,” is excellent. (93) Favour. Aspect, look, countenance, physiognomy. See Note 18, Act i., “ All’s Well.” TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 631 promised you, I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily, and reins well.” Enter Officers. First Off. This is the man; do thy office. Sec. Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of Count Orsino. Ant. You do mistake me, sir. First Off. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour™ well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.— Take him away: he knows I know him well. Ant. I must obey.—[7o Viota.] This comes with seeking you: But there’s no remedy ; I shall answer it. What will you do, now my necessity Makes me to ask yeu for my purse? It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz’d ; But be of comfort. Sec. Off. Come, sir, away. Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. Vio. What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have show’d me here, And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability Ill lend you something : my having is not much ; Ill make division of my present” with you: Hold, there’s half my coffer. Ant. Will you deny me now ? Is *t possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you. Vio. I know of none; Nor know I you by voice or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood. Ant. Oh, heavens themselves ! Sec. Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go. Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatch’d one half out of the jaws of death ; Reliev’d him with such sanctity of love,°°— And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable” worth, did I devotion. First Off. What’s that to us? The time goes by: away ! (94) Having. Here used, substantively, for ‘the amount of what rae ‘that which I possess.’ See Note 69, Act iii., “As You ike It.” (95) My present. Used, elliptically, to express ‘my present store,’ ‘the sum of money I at present possess.’ (96) With such sanctity of love. This is an instance of the manner in which Shakespeare occasionally makes a speaker begin with a phrase constructed in one way, and conclude it in a different way. See Note 50, Act i., “As You Like It.”” And here it has a specially natural effect, from the agitation with which Antonio speaks. “ Such” seems to require ‘ that’ or ‘as’ to follow up the sentence; but the break in the speech, and its change of construction, serve to convey the broken voice and perturbed feeling of the utterer. (97) Venerable. Here used in its strict sense of ‘ that which is to be admired,’ ‘that which is worthy of worship,’ ‘that which is to be revered or venerated;’ without reference to age, which is now mingled with the idea conveyed by this word. 632 Ant. But, oh! how vile an idol proves this god!% Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.— In nature there’s no blemish but the mind ; None can be called deform’d but the unkind: Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks,” o’erflourish’d by the devil. First Of. The man grows mad: away with him! —Come, come, sir. Ant. Lead me on. [Heeunt Officers with Antonto. Vio. Methinks his words do from such passion fly, That he believes himself: so do not I.!% Prove true, imagination, oh! prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you ! Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we’ll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most sage saws.1!01 . Vio. He nam’d Sebastian: I my brother know Yet living in my glass ;' even such, and so, ACAD SCENE I.—Another part of the grounds adjoining Ouivia’s house. Enter SeBast1an and Clown. Clo. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow: Let me be clear of thee. Clo. Well held out, 7 faith! No, I do not know (98) But, oh! how vile an idol proves this god! The passionate warmth of the sea captain’s words, the ardour of his attachment for the handsome youth Sebastian, with the anguish of regret he shows upon finding belied (as he imagines) the promise of goodness given by the young man’s beauty of person and charm of look, strike us as curiously in consonance with the fervour of similar sentiment traceable in some of Shakespeare’s sonnets. We have before observed upon the warmth of expression that was usual between man-friends in Shakespeare’s time (see Note 26, Act iv., “Merchant of Venice”); a warmth of expression in speech that is paralleled by equal warmth of demonstration in salutation and caress, to this day, in Italy, where men-friends, and even acquaint- ances, kiss each other when they meet. It is to be remarked, also, that the devotedly-attached friend of the young nobleman, Bassanio, and the fascinatedly-fond friend of the youthful Sebastian, both bear the same name—‘ Antonio.”’ The grave merchant’s protestations of affection for his young friend are repeated with even more impassioned strength of expression in the sea captain’s outpourings for Sebastian. In Act ii., sc. 2, his “If you my love, let me be your servant;” his “Th gods go with thee!’’ and his “I do adore thee so:” in Act iii., sc. 3, his loving words and gift of his purse; and in the present scene his instantly drawing to protect the young fellow from assailants; his diffident words requesting back the purse; his nobly-generous way of forbearing to “‘upbraid’”’ the youth with those kindnesses done for him; his bitter grief at finding him insensible to his appeal, and falsifying the ideal of intrinsic loveliness which his lovely exterior seemed to give warrant for believing in—all are thoroughly true to sailor nature; and, as we feel, still more intensely true to Shakespeare’s own nature. That cry of the soul lamenting over the proved worthlessness of one cherished “with such sanctity of love” is profoundly pathetic, and, to our minds, came from the inmost depths of the writer’s own heart. (99) Trunks. The word is here used, directly, in its sense of human bodies, corporeal frames; figuratively, in allusion to the TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Acr IV. In favour was my brother: and he went Still in this fashion,' colour, ornament,— For him I imitate :!* oh, if it prove,!® Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love! [ Heit. Str To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare: his dishonesty appearsan leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship, ask Fabian. Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. Sir And. him. Sir To. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword. Sir And. An T do not,— Fab. Come, let’s see the event. Str To, I dare lay any money ’twill be nothing | Kxeunt. *Shid, Pll after him again, and beat [ Exit. yet, IV. you: nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. Seb. I pr’ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou know’st not me. Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word! of some great man, and now applies it to a fool: vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney.*—I pr’ythee, now, ungird thy richly-carved chests or trunks, which, in Shakespeare’s time, occupied a place in sitting-rooms as pieces of handsome furniture. (100) He believes himself: so do not I, We understand these words differently from those who adopt Johnson’s explanation of the passage. We interpret them to mean— He believes that he knows me: I do not believe so.’ And she says this out of a hope that springs up within her that her brother still lives, and is known to this stranger. (101) Saws. ‘ Adages,’ ‘axioms;’ which were often written in rhymed “couplets.” This withdrawal apart of Sir Toby and the two others, while it affords opportunity for Viola’s soliloquy, gives in a natural manner the effect of their being half inclined to let the quarrel drop. (102) I my brother know yet living in my glass. ‘My brother is livingly represented by my own reflection in the glass.’ (103) He went still in this fashion. ‘He was always dressed or attired in this style.’ See Note 46, Act iii., “As You Like It.” (104) For him I imitate. The occasion thus taken to easily explain how it is that Viola should be dressed so precisely like her brother as to heighten the natural resemblance between the twins, and cause their being taken for each other during the course of the play, is quite true to Shakespeare’s ingenuity of dramatic art. (105) Oh, if it prove. Elliptically expressed; the preceding “true ” being understood as repeated after “prove.” See Note 12, Act iii., “ Merchant of Venice.’’ » (1) Vent my folly! he has heard that word, &c. Shakespeare here satirises the affected use of the word “vent” then in fashion, as he has before in this play satirised similar verbal fopperies of the time. See Note 8, Act iii. (2) I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. ‘I am afraid that this great booby, the world, will adopt this absurd jargon, and all men will become. cockneys by talking cockneyisms.’ Scene I.] strangeness,’ and tell me what I shall vent to my lady: shall I vent to her that thou art coming ? Seb. I pr’ythee, foolish Greek,‘ depart from me: There’s money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment. Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand.— These wise men, that give fools money, get them- selves a good report after fourteen years’ purchase.° rr TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 633 Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for twopence. [ Hatt. Sir To. [Holding Srpasriay.] Come on, sir ; hold. Sir And. Nay, let him alone: I'll go another way to work with him; I’ll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it ’s no matter for that, « Z, Sd Fi A S Fe AH YF Sir Toby Beleh. Enter Str ANDREW AGUECHEEK. Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? there’s for you. [Striking SepasTIan. Seb. Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there. [Beating Str Anprew.] Are all the people mad ? Enter Str Tosy Bretcu and Fasian. Sir To. Hold, sir, or Pl throw your dagger o’er the house.® (3) Ungird thy strangeness. “Ungird’’ is here used in the sense of ‘unbend,’ ‘relax ;’ and “ strangeness” is here used in the sense of ‘stiffness,’ ‘reserve,’ ‘ distance.’ See Note 114, Act ii. (4) Greek. An old word for a merry-maker, a reveller ; our more modern expression, ‘a merry grig,’ being a corruption of ‘ a merry Greek.’ Probably derived from the Latin grecari, to revel, to carouse. (5) After fourteen years’ purchase. “ After” is here used idiomatically, in its sense of ‘in accordance with the usage of,’ “according to the rate of;’ and “fourteen years’ purchase” is a technical term in the buying of land. At the time Shakespeare wrote, twelve years’ purchase appears to have been about the current price of land; so that the Clown means to say that they be I have not seen such a firago. Act ITT. Scene IV. Seb. Let go thy hand. Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are weil fleshed ;7 come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. [ Disengages himself.| What wouldst thou now ? If thou dar’st tempt me farther, draw thy sword. Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must who pay fools to obtain their good word pay an exorbitant price, and wait long ere they obtain what they buy. (6) O’er the house. This seems to have been a phrase tanta- mount to vehemently, rashly, recklessly, randomly; for we find it again applied to a weapon sent forcibly and regardlessly to a distance, in “ Hamlet,’’ Act v., sc. 2:—“‘I have shot my arrow o’er the house.” , : ces" (7) Well fleshed. This is a sporting term, meaning to initiate and train dogs by giving them flesh to eat; and to establish them in practice by satiating them with it. It is used in both ways by Shakespeare, both to signify initiative and practised use of the sword; and in the present passage he employs it to signify that the “young soldier,” Sebastian, has both well commenced and well 7. 80 634 have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. | Draws. Enter Outvia. Oli. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold! ' Sir To. Madam— Oli. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne’er were preached! out of my sight !— Be not offended, dear Cesario.— Rudesby,' be gone !—[Hzewnt Str Tony, Sir ANDREW, and Fastan.] I pr’ythee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent ® Against thy peace. Go with me to my house; And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch’d up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go: Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine in thee.’ Seb. What relish is in this?! how runs the stream ? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream : Let fancy still my sense in Lethe” steep ; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep ! Oli. Nay, come, I pr’ythee: would thou ’dst be rul’d by me! Seb. Madam, I will. Oli. Oh, say so, and so be! [| Exeunt. SCENE II.—A room in Otntvia’s house. Enter Marta and Clown. Mar. Nay, I pr’ythee, put on this gown and this practised the use of his weapon. We the rather point out this, because it has been strangely suggested that these words are addressed to Sir Andrew! whereas, they are among the many means that the dramatist takes to keep well before the mind the almost girlish appearance of Sebastian (who is so like his sister), together with his real manliness. (8) Rudesby. See Note 15, Act iii., “Taming of the Shrew.” (9) Extent. This word seems to be here used in the sense it bears in the passage explained in Note 4, Act iii., ““As You Like It,” for ‘ seizure,’ ‘taking forcible possession of,’ ‘ violent assault upon.’ The word “unjust” in the context seems to make for the pro- bability of “extent” being used thus, because it qualifies that which would otherwise be a legal procedure. (10) Started one poor heart of mine in thee. There is a play on the word “started,” in the sense of ‘startled’ and of ‘roused,’ as game is roused; and on the word “heart’’ in the sense of that which oltre has given to the seeming page Cesario, and in the sense of art.’ (11) What relish is in this? ‘What sapor of truth is there in rae ‘What property of reality or verisimilitude is there in ist > (12) Lethe. The Greek word for ‘oblivion; and given as a name to one of the rivers in the classical lower regions, the waters of which were to be drunk by the souls of the dead after a certain space of time passed in Tartarus, that they might forget what- soever they had said, done, seen, or heard before. (13) Sir Topas. The title of ‘Sir’’ was given to curates (see Note 2, Act i., ““ Merry Wives’’); and there is peculiar propriety in the name here given to the minister who comes to “visit Malvolio the lunatic;’’ for, among the alleged properties of precious stones, it was believed that a topaz possessed the virtue of curing insanity. (14) I will dissemble myself in ’t. Shakespeare here uses the word “dissemble ’’ i the sense borne by the Latin word dissimulare, to cloak, disguise, conceal, or dissemble; thus affording ground for the Clown’s pun, while putting on the clerical gown. Mr. Steevens, the commentator, sneeringly remarks that “Shakespeare has here TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Acr IV. beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas’* the curate: do it quickly ; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. [ Hatt. Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in ’t;'* and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough” to become the function well; nor lean enough to be thought a good student: but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar."6 The com- petitors enter. Enter Str Tosy Betcu and Marta. Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. Clo. Bonos dies,® Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, “That, that is, is; so I, being master parson, am master parson ; for, what is that, but that ? and is, but is?” Sir To. To him, Sir Topas. Clo. What, ho, I say,—peace in this prison! Sir To. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. Mal. [Within.] Who calls there? Clo. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic. Mal. [Within.] Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend!*#! how vexest thou this man! talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? Sir To. Well said, master parson. Mal. [Within.] Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me here in hideous darkness. Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy : sayest thou that house is dark?” stumbled on a Latinism: thus Ovid, speaking of Achilles— Veste virum longa dissimulatus erat’ (‘The man was disguised in a long robe’).’”’ But not only do we believe that Shakespeare was far more intimately and appreciatively acquainted with Ovid than the sneering commentator; we also believe that he never “stumbled on’ any word he uses: on the contrary, he shows a most special and discriminating accuracy in the choice, adoption, and employ- ment of the epithets he introduces; thereby giving one of many proofs that he had a greatly profounder knowledge of. classical languages and the true etymology of his own than superficial judges have ever been able to perceive or willing to allow. See Note 50, Act ii., “ As You Like It.” (15) I am not tall enough. ‘Tall’ is here used in its sense of ‘stout,’ ‘lusty,’ ‘robust ;’ making a good antithesis to “lean.”’ (16) An honest man and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar. Here “ honest ’’ is used in one of the senses it primitively bore, that of ‘ creditable,’ ‘ honourable ;’ and “careful’’ is used in the sense of ‘ frugal,’ ‘ spare.’ (17) Competitors. Used for confederates, consociates, ‘colleagues,’ ‘allies’ See Note 10, Act ii., Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (18) Bonos dies. Spanish, ‘ good day.’ (19) The old hermit of Prague. This sagacious though illiterate anchorite, together with that docile princess to whom he addresses his wise monition, “a niece of King Gorboduce,” are, we believe, equally phantoms of Master Feste’s brain with those visionary sages from whom he delights to quote, “ Quinapalus,” “ Pigrogro- mitus,” &c. See Note 26, Act ii. (20) What is that, but that? and is, but is? A playful satire on the pedantry of logic in the schools. ms (21) Out, hyperbolical fiend! Sir Topas exorcises the evil spirit by which a madman was supposed to be possessed, and addresses it as speaking from within the possessed man instead of him. (22) Sayest thou that house is dark? The Clown, in character of the curate, still affects to believe that it is the evil spirit which speaks from within Malvolio. He uses the term “house” for the room in which the steward is confined, because ‘a dark house’ was formerly the name for the place where madmen were kept. Scene IT. | Mal. [Within.| As Tartarus, Sir Topas. Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows* transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stories ** toward the south- north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction ? Mal. [(Within.] I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark. Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. Mal. [Within.| I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as pitch; and I say, there was never man thus abused. Iam no more mad than you are: make the trial of it in any constant question.” Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras** con- cerning wild-fowl? Mal. [Within.| That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion ? Mal. [Within.| I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion. Clo. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in dark- ness : thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a wood- cock,” lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. Mal. [Within.| Sir Topas, Sir Topas,— Sir To. My most exquisite Sir Topas! Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.” Mar. Thou mightst have done this vithout thy beard and gown: he sees thee not. Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot.. Come by-and-by to my chamber. [| EKxeunt Sir Topsy and Marta. Clo. [Singing.] Hey, Robin, jolly Robin,” Tell me how thy lady does. (23) Bay-windows. The name for what are now called ‘ bow- windows.’ Some think the name derived from the shape, being like a bay or a harbour; others think it came from the portion of a building called in architectural technicality a ‘ bay.’ (24) The clear stories. The first Folio prints ‘ cleere stores,’ and the second Folio ‘cleare stones,’ instead of “clear stories” (Mr. Blakeway’s correction). “Clear stories’’ is the name given to a row of windows running along the upper part of a lofty hall or of a church; as appears from a passage in Ormerod’s History of Cheshire :—“‘Over each side of the nave is a row of clere story windows.”* We think there is just a possibility that the first Folio pore may have been right, as the French name for window-blinds is ‘ stores.’ (25) Any constant question. ‘ Any question demanding constancy or steadiness of thought ;’ or—if the word question be taken in the sense of ‘ discourse,’ ‘ conversation,’ ‘debate’ (as Shakespeare often uses the word; see Note 100, Act iii., “As You Like It’’?)—‘ any continuous discourse.’ (26) The opinion of Pythagoras. An allusion to the Pythagorean doctrine of the transmigration of souls. . (27) A woodcock. This bird being considered a type of folly (see Note 92, Act i., “Taming of the Shrew’’), the Clown selects it as the supposed progenitrix of ‘‘ Malvolio the lunatic.” (28) I am for all waters. A proverbial expression, tantamount to “Tam able to assume any appearance.’ It has not yet been ascer- tained whence the metaphor is derived; whether from an aquatic term, able to sail in any waters; whether from a tavern term, able to drink any kind of liquor, and out of any vessel; or whether from an Italian proverb, Tu hai mantillo da ogni aqua— Thou hast a cloak for any kind of water.’ However this may be, we think the Clown’s employment of the expression includes a reference to the TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 635 Mal. [Within.| Fool,-— Clo. [Stnging.| My lady is unkind, perdy, Mal. [Within.| Fool,— Clo. [ Singing. | Alas! why is she so ? Mal. [| Within.| Fool, I say,— Clo. [Singing.| She loves another— Who calls, ha? Mal. [Within.| Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper: as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for ’t. Clo. Master Malvolio! Mal. [Within.] Ay, good fool. Clo. Alas! sir, how fell you beside your five wits 2°! Mal. [ Within.] Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well?* then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool. Mal. [Within.] They have here propertied me;*> keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits.*4 Clo. Advise you®® what you say; the minister is here.—[ As Srr Topas.] Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble. Mal. [Within.| Sir Topas,— Clo. [As Srr Toras.] Maintain no words with him, good fellow.—[As Crown.| Who, I, sir? not I, sir. Heaven b’ wi’ you, good Sir Topas.—[As Srr Topas. | Marry, Amen.—[As Crown.] I will, sir, I will.*6 Mal. [Within.] Fool, fool, fool, I say,— Clo. Alas! sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent*’ for speaking to you. Mal. [Within.| Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. Clo. Well-a-day, that you were, sir! Mal. [Within.| By this hand, lam. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light; and convey what I will > lapidary’s technicality of ‘‘ waters,” as applied to the colour and ._ brilliancy of precious stones; playing on the word “ Topas’’ as the name of the curate, and ‘topaz,’ the yellow gem so called. (29) Hey, Robin, jolly Robin. The Clown characteristically re- sumes his own character by singing a snatch of a song. ~ This ballad is to be found in Percy’s ** Reliques.”’ (30) Perdy. A corruption of the French oath, pardieu. See Note 50, Act iv., “‘ Comedy of Errors.” (31) Five wits. A poem by Stephen Hawes, entitled “Graunde Amoure,”’ 1554, mentions the “five wits’? as ‘common wit, imagi- nation, fantasy, estimation, and memory.’ See Note 11, Act i., “Much Ado.” (32) But as well ? more than.’ (33) Propertied me. ‘Made a property of me,’ ‘taken possession of me’ as one who is out of his senses. We think that this probably includes an allusion to the practice of trying to obtain the pro- perty and custody of one who was declared a lunatic (see Note 121, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost’’); and Shakespeare elsewhere uses the word “propertied’”’ in the sense of ‘controlled,’ ‘held in sub- jection.’ (34) To face me out of my wits. ‘To impudently maintain that I am out of my mind,’ ‘to brazenly cheat me out of my senses.’ Shakespeare elsewhere uses “ face”’ in this sense. (35) Advise you. ‘Take heed,’ ‘be careful.’ See Note107, Actv., * Love’s Labour’s Lost.”’ (36) I will, sir, I will. The Clown, who is pretending to hold a conversation with the imaginary curate, here affects to answer some injunction that Sir Topas has whispered to him. (37) Iam shent. “ Shent’’ is ‘chidden,’ ‘scolded,’ or ‘reproved ;’” in familiar parlance, ‘snubbed.’ *But’’ is here used in the sense of ‘ only,’ ‘no 636 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. set down to my lady: it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. Clo. I will help you to’t. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed ?* or do you but counter- feit ? Mal. thee true. Clo. Nay, I'll ne’er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink. Mal. [Within.] Fool, Vl requite it highest degree: I pr’ythee, be gone. Clo. [Singing.] [Within.] Believe me, I am not: I tell in the I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, Ill be with you again, In a trice, Like to the old Vice,*9 Your need to sustain; Who, with dagger of lath, In his rage and his wrath, Cries, ah, ha! to the devil :48 Like a mad lad, Pare thy nails, dad; 4! Adieu, goodman drivel.42 [ Heit. SCENE IIT.—O rv1a’s garden. Enter Smpasttan. Seb. This is the air: that is the glorious sun ; This pearl she gave me, I do feel ’t and see ’*t: And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus, (38) Are you not mad indeed? Johnson, Mason, and Malone have some commentatorial differences in their notes upon this passage in the Variorum Edition; Mr. Malone settling the matter by first showing how “our author ought to have written,” then saying that he probably “meant” this, “though he has not expressed his meaning accurately,’ and finally accusing Shakespeare of being “often careless in such minute matters.’ As it appears to us, the Clown is made to speak, characteristically, in his usual rambling way; and he asks, “Are you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit to be mad?” thus seeming to ask Malvolio a sympa- thising question, but in fact asking him whether he be not mad ones way or other, either really or pretendedly, since mad he seems o be. (39) Like to the old Vice. The “Vice” was one of the names given to the Fool in the old moralities ; where his part consisted in striving to elude Death, and play off tricks upon the devil, but to both of whom he finally succumbed. See Note 2, Act lii., “‘ Measure for Measure.’’ His weapon was a “dagger of lath,” with which he used to belabour the devil and make him roar. The moral of the enter- tainment was that sin, after making merry with the devil, and pang allowed to take great liberties with him, in the end becomes S$ prey. (40) Cries ah, ha! to the devil. “Ah, ha!” and “ Ho, ho!” were forms of diabolical address and diabolical ejaculation, in the old stage mysteries. See Note 77, Act iii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (41) Pare thy nails, dad. One of the waggeries of the Vice was to offer to pare with his wooden dagger the nails of the devil, who was supposed to take special pleasure in keeping his claws long and sharp. (42) Adieu, goodman drivel. The Folio prints ‘diuell’ instead of “drivel’’ (Rowe’s correction). (43) Yet there he was. ‘Yet he had been there;’ “was” being used indefinitely for a past time. (44) This credit. “ Credit’’ was sometimes used, in Queen Eliza- beth’s time, for oral intelligence; what we now call “a verbal message. (45) Golden service. Shakespeare, in this passage, and in another of this play, uses the word “golden’’ in the sense of ‘valuable,’ “precious ;’ poetically, and without reference to the ore itself. [Acr IV. Yet *tis not madness. Where ’s Antonio, then? T 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 ;45 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,‘ That [am ready to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle** with my reason, that persuades me To any other trust but that T am mad,— Or else the lady’s mad ; yet, if ’twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs, and their despatch,*® With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, As I perceive she does: there ’s something in ’t That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. Enter Ourvi1a and a Priest. Oli. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man Into the chantry by :*! there, before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, 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 willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep,® According to my birth.— What do you say? (46) Disputes. Used in the sense of ‘debates,’ ‘argues,’ ‘dis- cusses logically.’ (47) Discourse. The then scholarly term for ‘ratiocination ;’ and Mr. Singer aptly quotes from Glanville :—‘ The act of the mind which connects propositions, and deduceth conclusions from them, the schools call discourse, and we shall not miscall it if we name it reason.’” (48) Wrangle. A term in logic for ‘altercation,’ ‘ disputation.’ See Note 24, Act v., “Tempest.” Shakespeare thus maintains the introduction of schoolmen’s expressions throughout this portion of Sebastian’s speech ; and which aids to give it a manly air, in charac- teristic contrast with the womanly air investing all that is uttered by the twin counterpart, Viola. (49) Take and give back affairs, and their despatch. Elliptically expressed, in Shakespeare’s most condensed yet comprehensive way. It gives the sense of ‘take affairs in hand, give back orders respecting them, and see to their being executed with despatch.’ (50) Deceivable. ‘ Deceptive,’ ‘delusive.’ Shakespeare sometimes uses the active and passive form of adjectives, the one for the other. See Note 4, Act ii. (51) The chantry by. A “chantry’’ was a little chapel, or a par- ticular altar in a church, endowed for the purpose of chanting masses for the souls of the dead. “By” is here used for ‘hereby,’ ‘just by,’ ‘near,’ ‘close at hand.’ It is not impossible that Shakespeare meant one of those private chapels, in or adjoining Italian mansions; many of which exist to this day 7 1S dwellings belonging to rich or distinguished persons in taly. . (52) Whiles. Used for ‘until;’? ‘while’ is still provincially (especially in Yorkshire and the Northern English counties) em- ployed in this sense. (53) What time we will, &c. “ What time” is a poetical idiom (signifying ‘at which time,’ ‘when’) used by Shakespeare in the present passage and in two others of his plays; and by Milton more frequently than by Shakespeare. By “celebration” Olivia means the more festive observance attending their nuptials, that shall be fulfilled with befitting splendour hereafter, and meanwhile the religious rite of affiancing and solemn betrothal will have been securely performed. \ IN \\\\ \ i \ At 3 in D I I lj Olivia. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee, hold! Sir Toby Belch. Madam— Act IV. Scene I. ’ . ‘ = ' * , 4 ~ ' - » : é ° < é os , _ 7 : oe ows we - ~ 5 > a - ‘ z - o Je aw i a s a | " mn os i ) cis a - : . S oe is re - ~ ; Lan . boos Ant : =a : so Se oe i i Kee 12 " yi = a ‘ ( on Ps ra - 0 a 7 7 ay , va a 4 a a a - : eg ; a 5 ‘ ’ 5 7 A »~ any ; os t } ~ a ‘ és i aw - rs - i “’ Ah af oe ‘ ¥ “7 a 7 . = ! ' ri al S te tee aka 7 ‘te * Tee =. : . a. 3 ‘ 'S rf ‘ Ee ay ea Sr al J 7 <8 aps, 4 3 é vs , ai 0+. » os : —o y eg a ad een oe ead : ; r ; ree e ee ~ A ae : 7 s 4 v Scene I. | Seb. Vl follow this good man, and go with you ; And, having sworn truth,** ever will be true. TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 639 Oli. Then lead the way, good father;—and | heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Hzewnt. Ate Lee Ve SCENE I.—Grounds adjoining Oxtv1a’s house. Enter Clown and Fastan. Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clo. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. Fab. Anything. Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. Fab. This is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, desire my dog again. Enter Dux, Vioxa, Curio, and Attendants. Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends ? Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. Duke. I know thee well: how dost thou, my good fellow ? Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends. Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clo. No, sir, the worse. Duke. How can that be? Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that, by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conclusions! to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives,’ why, then, the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes. Duke. Why, this is excellent. Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends. Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there’s gold. (54) Having sworn truth. ‘‘Truth”’ is here used for fidelity. (1) Conclusions. ‘Logical experiments,’ arguments. See Note 24, Act ii., “ Merchant of Venice.” (2) If your four negatives make your two affirmatives. By reading ‘No, no,’ and ‘ Ay, ay,’ in the following passage, we find Shake- speare himself illustrates the present one—“ Maids in modesty say No to that which they would have the profferer construe Ay” (“Two Gentlemen of Verona,” Act ii., sc. 1). Moreover, Master Feste’s “four negatives” and “two affirmatives’’ have pleasant allusion to the four lips that count for nothing till they form two~ consenting mouths. Coleridge, who has the right of a poet to speak with authority, gaily retorts upon Warburton (who proposed to alter the reading), “In the name of love and wonder, do not four kisses make a double affirmative? The humour lies in the whispered ‘No!’ and the inviting ‘Don’t’ with which the maiden’s kisses are accompanied, and thence compared to negatives, which by repetition constitute an affirmative.” (3) Double-dealing. A pun upon the expression, in its sense of ‘playing false’ and ‘paying twice.’ See Note 73, Act v., ** Much Ado about Nothing.” Clo. But that it would be double-dealing,’ sir, I would you could make it another. Duke. Oh, you give me ill counsel. Clo. Put your grace‘ in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer :° there’s another. Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio,® is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the triplez, sir, is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of Saint Bennet,’ sir, may put you in mind,—one, two, three. Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw :8 if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty farther. Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [ Hatt. Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. Enter Officers, with Antonio. Duke. That face of his I do remember well ; Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear’d As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war: A bawbling® vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable ; With which such scathful® grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet," That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried fame and honour on him.— What’s the matter ? First Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio (4) Grace. Here used for ‘virtue.’ (5) So much a sinner to be a, Ye. between “sinner” and “to.” ’ 7 (6) Primo, secundo, tertio. Latin. ‘First, second, third.’ (7) Or the bells of Saint Bennet. It has been proposed that ‘‘or” should be changed to ‘as’ here; but the Clown alleges various reasons why he should have a third piece of money given to him. The commentators frown upon Shakespeare’s “‘impropriety an bringing in “ St. Bennet’’ here, as if there could be only an English church of that name. But not merely are there churches dedicated to San Benedetto to be found in Italy, monasteries of Benedictine monks and convents of Benedictine nuns quite sufficiently abound there to make the Clown’s allusion to some neighbouring church, monastery, or convent locally correct. ae ; (8) At this throw. “Throw” is here used in its sense of ‘while,’ ‘time;’ Saxon, pnah. There is also the sense of ‘cast,’ as in casting a net for catching fish, and in casting a dice, included, as a hint to Master Feste. (9) Bawbling. rifling, small like a bauble. (10) Scathful. Harmful, destructive. (11) The most noble bottom of our fleet. ‘The noblest vessel of ‘As’ must be understood 640 That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy ;¥ And this is he that did the Tiger" board, When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state,“ In private brabble! did we apprehend him. Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side ; TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Acr Y. Be pleas’d that I shake off these names you give me: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino’s enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither; That most ingrateful boy there, by your side, From the rude sea’s enrag’d and foamy mouth Did I redeem ; a wreck past hope he was: His life I gave him, and did thereto add Sebastian. Tl follow this good man, and go with you. Act IV. But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,— I know not what ’twas, but distraction. Duke. Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief ! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies," Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear,!7 Hast made thine enemies ? Ant. Orsino, noble sir, our fleet.’ A “bottom” is a marine technicality elsewhere used by Shakespeare. In the first scene of the “Merchant of Venice,” Antonio says, ‘‘ My ventures are not in one bottom trusted.”’ (12) Took the Phenia and her fraught from Candy. “Fraught’’ is an old form of ‘freight.’ See Note 12, Acti., “Tempest.’? “From Candy” means ‘coming from Candy.’ The elliptical construction here is similar to the one explained in Note 22, Act ii., “ Tempest,’”’ and serves to illustrate the meaning in that passage, which is less obvious than the meaning in the present one. (13) The Tiger. Twice given by Shakespeare as the name of a ship; in this play, and in “ Macbeth.” (14) Desperate of shame and state. ‘Desperately unregardful of disgrace and danger.’ Scene ILT. My love, without retention or restraint, All his in dedication; for his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love,'8 Into the danger of this adverse town ;! Drew to defend him when he was beset: Where being apprehended,” his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) (15) Brabble. ‘Brawl,’ ‘ quarrel.’ (16) Their mercies. Shakespeare often uses ‘‘mercy’’ in its sense of ‘power to act at will,’ ‘discretionary power,’ ‘power to spare or to destroy.’ (17) So bloody and so dear. “ Dear” is here used in its sense as derived from the Saxon, dene, ‘hurt,’ ‘harm,’ ‘mischief ;’ a deriva- tion well explained by Tooke in his “ Diversions of Purley.”’ See Note 61, Act i., “As You Like It.” (18) Pure for his love. ‘ Purely for his love;’ the adjective used adverbially. (19) Into the danger of this, &c. ‘Into’? used for ‘unto.’ See Note 125, Act i., “ All’s Well that Ends Well.” (20) Where being apprehended. ‘ Where” is here used much in Ay | \ oe hal Wie ; . at ‘ | 7 rN ) \ i iy NN HH WHINE WN RUG HRA i] 1 NAY) NN SHRINK Sir Andrew Aguecheek. For the love of Heaven, a surgeon; send one presently to Sir Toby. Olivia. What’s the matter P Act V. Scene I. 81 Scene I.] Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,” And grew a twenty-years-removed thing While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before. Vio. How can this be? Duke. When came he to this town ? Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months before (No interim, not a minute’s vacancy) Both day and night did we keep company. 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. Enter Ourvia and Attendants. Oli. What would my lord,—but that he may not have,— Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?— Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. Vio. Madam! Duke. Gracious Olivia,— Oli. What do you say, Cesario?—Good my lord,— Vio. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. Ol. 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 ? Oli. Still so constant, lord. Duke. What! to perverseness ? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious” altars My soul the faithfull’st offerings hath breath’d out That e’er devotion tendered! What shall I do? Oli. 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? a savage jealousy, That sometimes savours nobly. — But hear me this : Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour,” Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still; But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by Heaven I swear, I tender dearly, the same way that it is used in the passage explained in Note 46, Act v., “Merchant of Venice.” here”’ and “there” are each used by Shakespeare in this seemingly indefinite way; but a way which in reality serves admirably for dramatic art purpose, to indicate a locality known already to the reader, and therefore needing no more definite or more detailed description. (21) To face me out of his acquaintance. See Note 34, Act iv. (22) Fat. Here used for ‘ distasteful,’ ‘ offensive.’ (23) Ingrate and wnauspicious. “In” and “un,’’ as commencing syllables of words, were often applied by Shakespeare and writers of his time in an exactly contrary mode to the one now used. (24) The Egyptian thief. Thyamis, a robber-chief, who, falling in love with Chariclea, whom he has seized, shuts her in a cave, and means to marry her; but being overpowered by a stronger band of TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WIIMUL. 643 Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, Where he sits crownéd in his master’s spite.— Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe i. mischief ; 7 Pll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven’s heart within a dove. [ Going. Vio. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. ; [| Pollowing. Oli. Where goes Cesario ? Vio. 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! Oli, Ah! me, detested! how am I beguil’d! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong ? Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long P— Call forth the holy father. [Haut an Attendant. Duke. [To Vioua.] Come, away ! Oli. Whither, my lord ? — Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. eaepend' Oli. Ay, husband: can he that deny ? Duke... Her husband, sirrah ! Vio. No, my lord, not I. Oli. Alas! it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety :”7 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. Re-enter Attendant, with Priest. Oh, welcome, father ! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold (though lately we intended To keep in darkness, what occasion now Reveals before ’tis 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 rave I have travell’d but two hours. Duke. Oh, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be When time hath sow’d a grizzle on thy case ?” robbers, rushes to the cave with intent to kill her. A translation of the Greek romance of “'Theagenes and Chariclea’”’ was published before 1587. (25) The instrument that screws me from, &c. Shakespeare here uses “screws’’ in the sense of ‘wrenches,’ *wrests,’ ‘forcibly draws.’ (26) Ripe in mischief. Shakespeare sometimes uses “ripe” to express ‘arrived at extreme pitch,’ ‘come to excess.’ See Note 62, Acti., “ Merchant of Venice.” (27) Strangle thy propriety. ‘Suppress that which thou properly art,’ ‘conceal thine own proper self.’ (28) Interchangement of your rings. Formerly, in betrothals or espousals the man received as well as gave a ring. 3 m Case. Here used for ‘skin.’ See Note 71, Act iii., “ All’s ell.”’ 644 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 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. Vio. My lord, I do protest,— Oli. Oh, do not swear ! Hold little faith,®® though thou hast too much fear. Enter Str AnpREw AGUECHEEK, with his head broken. Sir And. For the love of Heaven, a surgeon! send one presently to Sir Toby. Oli. What’s the matter ? Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has eiven Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the loye of Heaven, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. Oli. Who has done this, Sir Andrew ? Str And. The count’s gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.*! Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ? Sir And. ’Od’s lifelings, here he is !—You broke my head for nothing ; and that that I did, I was set on to do’t by Sir Toby. Vio. Why do you speak to me? you: You drew your sword upon me without cause; But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb.—Here comes Sir Toby halting,—you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did. I never hurt Enter Siz Tosy Beucu, drunk, led by the Clown. Duke. How now, gentleman! how is’t with you? Sir To. That’s all one: he has hurt me, and there’s the end on’t.—Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot ? Clo. Oh, he’s drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone ; his eyes were set, at eight i’ the morning. Sir To. Then he’s a rogue and a passy-measures pavin :* T hate a drunken rogue. Oli. Away with him! who hath made this havoc with them ? ‘Sir And. Tl help you, Sir Toby, because we’ll be dressed together. Sir To. Will you help?—an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave,—a thin-faced knave, a gull? (30) Hold little faith. “ Little’? is here used for ‘a little’ or ‘some little.’ (31) Incardinate. Sir Andrew’s style of saying ‘incarnate.’ (32) A passy-measures pavin. “ Passy-measure” is a corruption of the Italian word passamezzo, which Florio translated ‘a pass-a- measure, in dancing a cinque pace.’ “ Pavin,’’ derived from the Italian, pavo, a peacock, was the name of a stately dance; and Sir Toby, who has before shown himself well versed in various dances (see Notes 43, 47, and 49, Act i.) when sober, now tipsily bungles up two dignified dancing terms to form a fitting name for a solemn surgeon. _ (33) Pérspective. There were various kinds of “ perspectives” in Shakespeare’s time. See Note 31, Act v., “All’s Well.” — An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures, Which is Sebastian ? Oli Most wonderful ! Seb. DoI 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 deyour’d.— [To Viona.] Of charity,** what kin are you to me? What countryman? age ? Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; Such a Sebastian was my brother too, So went he suited to his wat’ry tomb : If spirits can assume both form and suit You come to fright us. Seb. A spirit-I am indeed ; But am in that dimension grossly clad, Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes. even,*7 I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, And say—Thrice welcome, drowned Viola ! Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow,— Seb. And so had mine. Vio. And died that day when Viola from he birth Had number’d thirteen years. Seb. Oh, that record is lively in my soul! what name? what parent- wherein one man may see another man’s image and not his own; where that which is, is not, or appears, in a different position, another thing.’ (34) Since I have lost thee. The warmth of Sebastian’s words here to Antonio come with delightful effect as a response to the sea captain’s affectionate expressions heretofore, and as a comfort for his past distress of mind. See Note 98, Act iii. 4 (35) Nor can there be that deity in, &c. ‘Nor can there be that divine property in my nature, the power of ubiquity.’ ‘“‘Of here and everywhere”’ is elliptically expressed; ‘ being’ is understood between “ off ’’ and “ here.”’ q (36) Of charity. ‘Out of charity,’ ‘for the sake of charity.’ j (87) As the rest goes even. ‘‘Even”’ (for ‘evenly’) is here used in the sense of ‘smoothly consistent,’ ‘directly conformable.’ See Note 33, Act iv., “‘ Much Ado.” Scenr I.] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 645 ———— = Olivia. How now, Malvolio? Malvolio. Notorious wrong. He finishéd, indeed, nis mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. Vio. If nothing lets to make us* happy both But this my masculine usurp’d attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance (38) If nothing lets to make, &c. “Lets” was formerly sometimes used in the sense of ‘hinders,’ ‘prevents,’ ‘impedes;’ from the Saxon, lettan, to binder. tack (39) Jump. Here used for ‘coincide,’ ‘ concur.’ Duke. Is this the madman ? Madam, you have done me wrong, ay, —= i Ay, my lord, this same.— Act V. Scene I. Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump,*? That Iam Viola; which to confirm, Pll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds;‘ by whose ~ help gentle (40) To a captain in this town, where lie, fc. In the present yas- sage ““where” is used exactly as in the one discussed in Note 46, Act v., “Merchant of Venice.” There have been various altera- tions made by various emendators in these lines; but inasmuch as 646 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. I was preserv’d, to serve‘! this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. Seb. [To Oxtvta.] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook : But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid ; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv’d,— You are betroth’d both to a maid and man. Duke. Be not amaz’d; right noble blood.”’— If this be so, as yet the glass seems true," I shall have share in this most happy wreck.— [Yo Vioua.] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. Vio. And all those sayings will I overswear ; And all those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbéd continent the fire That severs day from night. Duke. Give me thy hand ; And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds. Vio. The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid’s garments ; he, upon some action, Is now in durance; at Malvolio’s suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady’s. Oli. He shall enlarge him :—fetch Malvolio hither :— And yet, alas! now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he ’s much distract. is his Re-enter Clown with a letter, and Faptan, A most extracting frenzy * of mine own From my remembrance clearly banish’d his.— How does he, sirrah ? Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the stave’s end as well as a man in his case may do: he has here writ a letter to you; I should have given it you to-day morning; but as a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not“ much when they are delivered. Oli. Open it, and read it. they are in Shakespeare’s peculiar style, especially when writing concluding scenes (see Note 35, Act v., “‘ All’s Well’’), they should be strictly preserved as they are. (41) I was preserv’d, to serve. Theobald’s suggestion of ‘pre- ferr’d’ for “ preserv’d’’ is plausible, and has been adopted by some editors; but, if we discard the original word, we lose Viola’s men- tion of her having been rescued from drowning. Shakespeare often thus, by a single word, narrates an incidental occurrence. (42) Right noble is his blood. Not only is there the pleasant effect produced in these few words of Orsino’s coming forward to avouch the nobility of his old friend’s son and daughter, but they serve the dramatic purpose of attesting the gentle birth of the youth who is chosen by a countess for a husband, and of the maiden who is about to be taken by the Duke for a wife. (43) As yet the glass seems true. ‘‘ Yet” is here used in the sense of ‘ still,’ ‘continuously ;’ and “the glass” refers to the ‘ per- spective,’ to which the Duke has already compared the twin ee and sister, each, as it were, the mirrored reflection of the other. (44) That orbéd continent. Here poetically used for the sun; “continent” meaning ‘that which contains.’ See Note 23, Act ii., “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” (42) A most extracting frenzy. “ Extracting’’ is here used in its strictly derived sense from the Latin, extrahere, ‘to draw out of.’ Shakespeare’s forcible and most pertinent word here has been altered by some editors, who allege that there is no other instance of the word being thus used (as if Shakespeare did not exercise his own authority, by divine right of genius, to use words and create words that no one before had used or created), and who say he [| Aorvs Clo. Look, then, to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam,— Oli. How now! art thou mad? Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vow. Oli. Pr’ythee, read 7’ thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear. Oli. [Yo Fastan.] Read it you, sirrah. Fab. [ Reads. | By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not‘ but todo myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please, I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO. Oli. Did he write this? Clo. Ay, madam. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. Oli. See him deliver’d, Fabian; bring him hither. [Heit Pasian. My lord, so please you, these things farther thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown the alliance on ’t,*’ so please ou, Here ar my house, and at my proper cost. Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer.— [To Viouta.] Your master quits you; and for your service done him, So much against the mettle of your sex,°° So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call’d me master for so long, Here is my hand: you shall from this time be Your master’s mistress. : Ol. A sister :—you are she, Re-enter Fastan, with Matvonto. Duke. Is this the madman? | Oli. Ay, my lord, this same.— How now, Malvolio ! would not have introduced “ extracting” so immediately near to “distract.’’ But, to our minds, there is a playful and bewitching effect in Olivia’s change of the first syllable of the slightly varying word, with, mayhap, a half-smiling, half-tender emphasis in her tone, and a momentary glance towards her new-trothed husband, as she utters the significant confession. (46) It skills not. ‘It matters not,’ ‘it signifies not.’ (47) You must allow vox. Vox is the Latin word for ‘voice.’ The Clown has blared out the commencement of Malvolio’s letter in the raving tone which he now maintains to be befitting for mad writing. (48) With the which I doubt not, fc. The way that Shakespeare uses “ which” in this sentence affords an instance of his employing a relative pronoun in reference to a not immediately preceding antecedent; ‘‘ which,” here, referring to “letter,” not to ‘‘sem- blance.” (49) The alliance on’t, “On’’ is here used for ‘of’ (see Note 92, Acti., “All’s Well’’), and “ ’t,” in Shakespeare’s way of using “it”’ in reference to an implied particular, refers to the proposal involved in Orsino’s thinking of Olivia as sister to himself as well as wife to Sebastian; the “alliance ” of this proposal being a double one—the marriage of the Duke with Viola, and Olivia with Sebastian—the latter couple having had betrothal, not espousal. It is also to be remarked that by the words, “to think me as well a sister as a wife,” Shakespeare conveys the effect of ‘to think of me as a sister instead of as a wife,’ in addition to the stricter interpretation of ‘to think of me as sister to yourself as well as wife to Sebastian,’ which they bear. . (50) Mettle of your sex. Shakespeare uses this word “ mettle” with peculiar force of combined meaning. He here uses “ mettle of Scene I. | Mal, Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong. Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no. Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter : You must not now deny it is your hand,— Write from it,>! if you can, in hand or phrase ; Or say *tis not your seal, nor your invention You can say none of this: well, grant it, then, And tell me in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling and cross-garter’d to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people ; And, acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck** and gull That e’er invention played on? tell me why. Oli. Alas! Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character : But, out of question,** *tis Maria’s hand. And now, I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling,°° And in such forms which here*® were presuppos’d Upon thee in the letter. Pr’ythee, be con- tent : This practice** hath most shrewdly pass’d upon thee ; ‘ But, when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. Fab. Good madam, hear me speak ; And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, your sex”’ for the ‘spirit,’ the ‘native dignity’ of womanhood, and for its ‘essential quality,’ its ‘constitutional property.’ (51) Write from it. “ From” is here used for ‘ differently from.’ See Note 97, Act i. (52) The lighter people. ‘The people of less weight of import- ance,’ ‘the persons of less consequence.’ (53) Geck. A fool, a dupe; from the Saxon, geac, a cuckoo, which was sometimes used as a synonyme for a simpleton. (54) Out of question. The way in which “out’’ is used in this idiomatic phrase serves to illustrate the way in which ‘ without’ is used, as explained in Note 103, Act ii, “All’s Well.”’ ‘Out of question’ means ‘ beyond all question,’ ‘taken out of the region of question’ or debate. (55) Then cam’st in smiling. Here the previous “thoun’’ in the line is understood as repeated between “cam’st’”’ and “in,” accord- ing to a way that Shakespeare has of making one word do double service in a sentence, by letting it be elliptically taken for granted the second time. See Note 17, Act i., “Merchant of Venice.” Moreover, he sometimes uses a verb in the second person without the accompanying pronoun; as in “ Winter’s Tale,” Act ii., sc. 3, we have—* What! canst not rule her?’’ where ‘thou’ is understood. (56) In such forms which -here, fc. Shakespeare sometimes uses “which” peculiarly. Here he uses it where now ‘as’ would be employed. (57) Presuppos’d upon thee. assume.’ (58) Practice. Trick, device framed in conspiracy. See Note 11, Act v., “ Measure for Measure.’’ (59) Upon some stubborn, &c. used by Shakespeare in the sense of ‘in consequence of.’ (60) We had conceiv’d against him. Here “against’’ is used peculiarly and elliptically; it implies ‘as counting against,’ ‘as making against,’ and also ‘as warranting us in plotting against.’ (61) Importance. Here used for ‘importunacy,’ ‘urgent entreaty.’ (62) He hath married her. These words serve to show that Mistress Maria’s tactics, alluded to in Note 66, Act i., have suc- ceeded in their design, and have secured her the conquest she aimed at achieving. *Presupposed that thou wouldst “Upon’’ is here and elsewhere Pp TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL , 647 Taint the condition of this present hour, : Which I have wonder’d at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess, myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon some stubborn®? and uncourteous parts We had conceiv’d against him :® Maria writ The letter at Sir Toby’s great importance ;°! In recompense whereof he hath married her.™ How with a sportful malice it was follow’d, May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; If that the injuries be justly weigh’d That have on both sides pass’d. Oli. Alas! poor fool, how have they baffled thee ! Clo. Why, “ some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.” ® I -was one, sir, in this interlude,—one Sir Topas, sir; but that’s all one.— By the Lord, fool, I am not mad;”—but do you remember? “Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he’s gagged:” and thus the whirligig® of time brings in his revenges. Mal. Tl be revenged on the whole pack of you. Gat. Oli. He hath been most notoriously abus’d. Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to peace :— He hath not told us of the captain yet : When that is known, and golden time con- vents,” A solemn combination® shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence.—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’s queen.” [Exeunt all, except CLown. (63) Poor fool. An instance of Shakespeare’s using this word compassionately, not contemptuously. See Note 42, Act i1., “Much Ado.” “Baffled”? is here used with a combination of two of the aa it bore; ‘cheated,’ ‘tricked,’ ‘deluded,’ and ‘ mocked,’ ‘in- sulted.’ (64) Greatness thrown wpon them. Here “thrown” used instead of “ thrust,’ affords an instance of Shakespeare’s purposed variations, such as we pointed out in Note 67, Act v., “All's Well.” The Clown quotes from the letter (see Act ii., sc. 5), and, naturally, does not quote with exact verbal accuracy. His citation of the sentences he resentfully remembers of Malvolio’s speech in Act i., sc. 5, exhibits similar deviation from precise wording, and the effect is thereby the more true to nature. The salient expressions, “barren rascal,” and “he’s gagged,” are recalled, but not in the literal order in which they were uttered; just as it would be in real life, and therefore just as we find it in Shake- speare’s page. . (65) Whirligig. A ‘spinning-top ;’ what in modern nomenclature is called a ‘teetotum.’ eon ; (66) Not told us of the captain yet. In this line and the preceding one, we have true Shakespearian touches. First, we have the Duke, with his gentle nature and his new joy, eager to have the injured though crabbed purist brought back and soothed into par- taking of the general harmony ; and then we have the indication of Orsino’s naturally keen interest respecting “the captain who had saved Viola, while it also serves the dramatic purpose of showing that the promise of interrogating the captain in reference to * Malvolio’s suit”? has not been lost sight of, although the interest of the play’s last scene does not require that point to be farther pursued. ; (67) And golden time convents. For the use of the epithet “golden”’ here, see Note 45, Act iv. ‘“ Convents” is here used to express ‘concurs,’ ‘accords,’ and “comes conveniently. (68) Combination. Here used (as Shakespeare uses the word “combinate;’ see Note 36, Act iii, “Measure for Measure’’) for ‘marriage contract,’ ‘nuptial union.’ | i¥ Pe (69) His fancy’s queen. ‘Queen of his love; fancy ” being often used for ‘love,’ ‘affection.’ Sone. When that I was and a little tiny boy,” With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,?! A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. Clo. But when I came to man’s estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, ’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas! to wive,” With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, (70) When that I was and a little, fe. “ And” was occasionally introduced thus redundantly to eke out the measure, or to give a facetious effect, in old ballads. (71) With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. The bad-weather-hating tone of this burden is in harmony with Master Feste’s fine-weather- loving sentiment (“ for turning away, let swmmer bear it out;” see Note 62, Act i.): and there is something in the rambling, incon+ TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. [Act V. By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my bed, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken head, For the rain it raineth every day. A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain :— But that’s all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. [ Heit. sequent twang of the whole song which accords with this Clown’s style throughout the play. (72) But when I came, alas! to wive. This, in like manner, tallies with Feste’s anti-matrimonial adage—* Many a good hanging pre- vents a bad marriage,’ ? Acti., se, 5. (73) Every day. “Evermor e,’ ‘always.’ See Note 12, Act ii., “Taming of the Shrew.” a i A IE Ot et | | / Wp i a hl \ NH 3 Wa\\ ~~ NEN ay NAN \ i Wes RS \ \ x! . \ \\ N\\ IN A \ i tN Ny ia I it nN NY Ny ; ht HS WA \ \ t\ AY WN AM \ hs My} | ch i i Wg | i iy 82 DRAMATIS PERSON. =o Leontes, King of Sicilia. Mamiuutvs, his Son. CAMILLO, ANTIGONUS, CLEOMENES, Dion, Other Sicilian Lords. Officers of a Court of Judicature. Sicilian Gentlemen. ors Porrxenes, King of Bohemia. Frorizeu, his Son. Arcuipamus, a Bohemian Lord. A Mariner. Gaoler. An old Shepherd, reputed Father of Perprra. Clown, his Son. Servant to-the old Shepherd. Avrotycus, a Rogue. Sicilian Lords. Hermiong, Queen to Lronres. Prrpita, Daughter to Leonres and Hermione. Pavuuina, Wife to ANTIGONUS. HK 5 L d > . : Gish eten } attending on the Queen. en } Shepherdesses. Attendants, Guards; Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Time, as Chorus. Scenr—Sometimes in Stcru1a, sometimes im Bowemia. fe ela Web Neh RS IPAL EB: —1o+—_—_. ACT a Ts SCENE I—Srcr1a. An antechamber in the palace of Luontes. Enter Camirit0 and Arcuipamus. Arch. Tf you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, ereat difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia. Cam. I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation? which he justly owes him. Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us, we will be justified in our loves ;* for, indeed,— Cam. Beseech you,— Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence—in so rare—I know not what to say.—We will give you (1) The first known printed copy of “Tur Winrer’s Tate” is the one in the 1623 Folio; and the first known record of its per- formance exists in a manuscript diary of Dr. Simon Forman, pre- served in the Ashmolean Museum. The entry in question is dated 15th May, 1611, and shows that this performance of the play took place at the Globe Theatre, where the company of actors to which Shakespeare belonged used to perform during the spring season (that theatre being open to the sky), while in winter they acted at the Blackfriars Theatre. There has also been found an entry in the account of the Master of the Revels, Sir George Bue, to the effect that on the 5th of November, 1611, a play was represented at Whitehall, called “The Winter’s Nightes Tayle,” by “the king’s players.” Farthermore, a memorandum discovered in the office- book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels, states that ‘‘an olde playe called ‘ Winter’s Tale,’ formerly allowed of by Sir George Bucke, and likewyse by me on Mr. Hemminges his worde that there was nothing prophane added or reformed, though. the allowed booke was missing: and therefore I returned it without a fee this 19th of August, 1623.” Alas!- for that “allowed book was missing!’’ In all probability the manuscript copy of “The Winter’s Tale’’ here referred to was destroyed when the Globe Theatre was burned down on the 29th of J une, 1613; and if it were even but a prompter’s transcript, what more than bank note paper value was then reduced ‘to ashes! but if, as is possible, it was the original copy in the poct’s own handwriting, how beyond all price the loss! It is to be feared that most of Shakespeare’s manuscript plays thus perished; accounting for the otherwise strange fact of not one or even a portion of one of his manuscript productions having ever been discovered. Indeed, when once an author’s play was written out clearly in separate parts, or for prompter’s use, the original manuscript was most probably considered valueless, and thrown about or torn up accordingly; but if those precious scraps could by any miracle have been preserved, and now recovered, sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience,* may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us. Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely. Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia, They were trained together in their child- hoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessi- ties made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed,® with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies ; that they have seemed to be together, though absent ; what treasure to the world, what incalculable peace of mind to some of Shakespeare’s commentators, who have earnestly striven to discover the true readings in certain of his passages now alnost hopelessly involved in obscurity and doubt! In this very play, for instance, there are one or two such passages, that have cost our- selves sleepless nights and turmoiled ruminations innumerable ; ‘which, if we could veritably behold them in the beloved and honoured hand that first penned them, would be made clear to our understandings with a comfort of poetic soul and a calm of literary conscience unspeakable. The plot of “The Winter’s Tale”’ is taken from Robert Greene’s novel of “‘ Pandosto: the Triumph of Time,” 1588 ; afterwards entitled “The History of Dorastus and Fawniay a story so popular that it was reprinted many times. None of the names therein, however, were adopted by Shakespeare; and al- though traces of some of, the principal characters are to be found in the novel, their beauty of development, their grace and refine- ment, their strength and vigour of individuality with moral purpose in their several portraitures, are wholly the poet’s; while he has entirely created and introduced the characters of Paulina, Antigo- nus, Autolycus, and the Clown-Shepherd. : (2) To pay Bohemia the visitation. Here, as frequently. in the course of this play, and elsewhere, Shakespeare uses the name of the king’s country as his title. See Note 86, Act ii., “ Merchant of Venice.’ : (3) Wherein our entertainment, fc. “In whatsoever the entertain- ment we then give you will do us discredit in comparison with that which you now give us, our love shall make up for the deficiency.’ (4) Unintelligent of our imsufficience. ‘Unconscious of our in- adequacy.’ kts j (5) Such an affection, which cannot, &c. A similar construction with the one pointed out in Note 56, Act v., “'T'welfth Night.” (6) Attorneyed. ‘Deputied,’ ‘substituted,’ ‘represented.’ See Note 14, Act iv., “As You Like It.” ee St 652 THE WINTER'S TALE. shook hands, as over a vast;’ and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds.’ The heavens continue their loves! Arch. I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeak- able comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note. Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physics the subject! makes old hearts fresh: they that: went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life to see him a man. Arch. Would they else be content to die ? Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live. Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one. | Exeunt. SCENE JI1.—Stcrn1a. Enter Lrontrs, Potixrenes, Hermionzr, Mamitutivs, CamiLxo, and Attendants. A room of state in the palace, Pol. Nine changes of the wat’ry star! have been The shepherd’s note," since we have left our throne Without a burden: time as long again Would be fill’d up, my brother, with our thanks ; And yet we should, for perpetuity, Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I wultiply With one we-thank-you many thousands more That go before it. Leon, Stay your thanks awhile, And pay them when you part. Pol. Sir, that ’s to-morrow. I am question’d by my fears, of what may chance, Or breed upon our absence; that may blow! No sneaping winds at home, to make us say, “This is put forth too truly.” Besides, I have stay’d To tire your royalty. Leon. We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to’t. Pol. No longer stay. Leon. One seven-night longer. (7) A vast. Here used substantively for ‘a vast space,’ ‘a wide extent of distance.’ See Note 53, Act i., ‘ Tempest.” (8) The ends of opposed winds. Poetically used for the quarters whence the four winds blow—from east to west, from north to. south—as figurative of opposite regions. (9) Physics the subject. ‘Gives hopeful sustainment and invigora- tion to the populace.’ “Subject” is elsewhere used by Shakespeare as a collective noun. See Note 52, Act ili., “‘ Measure for Measure.” (10) The wat’ry star. Used for the moon; elsewhere called by Shakespeare “ the governess of floods,’’ from its influence over the ebb and flow of the tides. (11) The shepherd’s note. ‘Noted by the shepherd.’ (12) That may blow, fc. “That” is here either used for ‘Oh that’ (in which case the sentence would be parenthetical, and form an ejaculatory comment on the previous sentence); or it is used for ‘whether,’ combining the two sentences into one, and forming a link between the first and second clause. In the former case we interpret it thus:—‘I am questioned by my fears of what may chance from or be occasioned by my absence (Oh, that no nipping winds at home may blow, causing me to say, “ This fear did but too truly warn me!”); in the latter case we take it to mean, ‘I am questioned by my fears of what may chance or grow out of my absence, and whether no nipping winds may blow,’ &c. In either case “that’’ is used peculiarly here; as Shakespeare often employs it in a sentence or clause of a sentence. See Note 121, Acti., “ All’s [Act I Poll. Very sooth, to-morrow. Leon. We’ll part the time between ’s,! then: and in that Ill no gainsaying. Pol. Press me not, beseech you, so. There is no tongue that moves, none, none i’ the world,'® So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now, ‘Were there necessity in your request, although ° *Twere needful I denied it. My affairs Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder, Were, in your love, a whip to me; my stay, To you a charge and trouble: to save both, Farewell, our brother. Leon. Tongue-tied our queen? speak you. Her, I had thought, sir, to have, held my peace until You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. sir, Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia’s well; this satisfaction . The by-gone day proclaim’d :!° say this to him, He’s beat from his best ward.” Leon. Well said, Hermione. Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong : But let him say so then, and let him go; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.— [Vo Pourxenes.] Yet of your royal presence I’1l adventure « The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia You take my lord, Ill give him my commission, To let him’ there a month behind the gest!® Prefix’d for ’s parting :—yet, good deed,” Leontes, I love thee not a jar o’ the clock behind What lady she her lord.*1—You’ll stay ? You, Pol. No, madam. Her. Nay, but you will? Pol. I may not, verily. Her. Verily! You put me off with limber vows; but I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with — oaths, ; Should yet say, “Sir, no going.” Verily, You shall not go: a lady’s verily is Well.” For his use of the word “sneaping,” see Note 11, Act i., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” : fo Very sooth. ‘In verytruth.? See Note 71, Act ii., “ Twelfth ight.” ; (14) We'll part the time between’s. In this play there is a pre- valence of this particular elision, ‘‘’s’’ for ‘us;’ and it is curious to observe how some one peculiarity will recur in certain of Shake- speare’s plays. It is as if he thought in that special way at that special time of writing. (15) None, none’ the world. Shakespeare, like a true poet, knew perfectly the potent effect of an iterated word ; but, also like a true poet and writer of thorough judgment, used it but sparingly, and, of course, on that account, with redoubled force of impression. Here it has an effect of intense earnestness. (16) This satisfaction the by-gone day proclaim’d. ‘We were satis- fied of this by messengers yesterday from Bohemia.’ (17) He’s beat from his best ward. ‘He’s beaten from his best point of defence.’ See Note 67, Act i., “Tempest.” (18) To lethim. ‘To stay,’ ‘to stop.’ (19) Gest. 'The name given to the scroll containing the several appointed stages, or resting-places, in a king’s progress; from the old French giste, a place to lie or lodge at. (20) Good deed. An old form of ‘ indeed.’ (21) Not @ jar o’ the clock behind what lady she her lord. ‘Not so much as a tick of the clock less than any lady loves her lord, [| | Mi | ll Maly Hie a ae Hl ML Leontes. Still virginalling Upon his palm P—How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf? - Mamillius. Yes, if you will, my lord. Act T. Scene II, Det \ Sonny II.] As potent as a lord’s. Will you go yet? Force me to keep you as a prisoner, Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees When you depart,” and save your thanks. say you ? My prisoner, or my guest? by your dread verily, One of them you shall be. Pol. Your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner should import offending ; Which is-for me less easy to commit Than you to punish. Her. Not your gaoler, then, But your kind hostess. Come, I’ll question you Of my lord’s tricks and yours when you were boys: You were pretty lordings*™ then ? Pol. 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. Her. Was not my lord the verier wag of the two? Pol. 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 of ill-doing, nor dream’d That any did. Had we pursu’d that life, And our weak spirits ne’er been higher rear’d With stronger blood, we should have answer’d heaven Boldly, “ Not guilty ;” the imposition clear’d, Hereditary ours.” Her. By this we gather, You have tripp’d since. Pol. Oh, my most sacred lady,” Temptations have since then been born to us! for In those unfledg’d days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes Of my young play-fellow. Her. Grace to boot !”” Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils: yet, go on; The offences we have made you do, we ’ll answer ; If you first sinn’d with us, and that with us You did continue fault, and that you slipp’d not With any but with us. How however dearly she may love him.’ The construction is peculiar here, and very elliptical in style; but, to our minds, thoroughly -comprehensible and thoroughly Shakespearian. (22) Pay your fees when you depart. Lord Campbell remarks that there is here “an allusion to a piece of English law procedure, which, although it may have been enforced till very recently, could hardly be known to any except lawyers, or those who had them- selves actually been in prison on a criminal charge—that, whether guilty or innocent, the prisoner was liable to pay a fee on his liberation.” ; (23) Lordings. An old form of ‘lords;’ here used as a diminutive. (24) Chang’d. Used for ‘exchanged,’ ‘interchanged.’ (25) The imposition clear’d, hereditary ours. ‘That share in original sin excepted, which we inherit from our first parents.’ (26) Oh, my most sacred lady. ‘‘ Sacred” is here used for ‘revered.’ See Note 11, Act v., ‘‘ Comedy of Errors.” (27) Grace to boot! An invocation for Heaven’s grace to come in aid of her self-defence. We meet with a somewhat similar form of invocation twice elsewhere in Shakespeare; and each time—as usual with him—characteristically distinguished. (28) Is he won yet? It is to be understood here that Leontes has remained somewhat apart, playing with his little son Mamillius; while Hermione has been fulfilling his wish of pleading with Polixenes for a longer sojourn. (29) At my request he would not. } _ Precisely the muttered _com- ment of a susceptible, irritable, jealous-natured man. Be it THE WINTER'S TALE. 6 or or Leon. Is he won yet ?%8 Her. He’ll stay, my lord. Leon. At my request he would not.” Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok’st To better purpose. Her. Never ? Leon. Never, but once. Her. What! have I twice said well? when was *t before ? I pr’ythee tell me ; cram’s with praise, and make’s As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongueless, Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages: you may ride’s With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs, ere With spur we heat an acre.” But to the goal :31— My last good deed was to entreat his stay: What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: oh, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose: when ? Nay, let me have ’t; I long. Leon. Why, that was when Three crabbéd months had sour’d themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, And clap thyself my love :*? then didst thou utter, “7 am yours for ever.” Her. It is Grace indeed.— Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice : The one for ever earn’d a royal husband ; The other for some while a friend. [Giving her hand to Pourxenes. Leon. [Aside.] Too hot, too hot ! To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis* on me,—my heart dances ; But not for joy,—not joy.—This entertainment May a free face put on; derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,*# And well become the agent ; it may, I grant: But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, As now they are, and making practis’d smiles, As in a looking-glass ; and then to sigh, as ’*twere The mort o’ the deer ;* oh, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows !—Mamillius, Art thou my boy? remarked that Leontes is jealous by nature; Othello, by circum- stance. The one is innately given to suspicion; the other is with difficulty made suspicious. Leontes, with the injustice of a man naturally prone to jealousy, urges his wife to entreat their gucst, and then resents her success in prevailing with him; encourages and induces her to use persuasive language, and then pervertedly deems it sinful allurement. (30) Ere with spwr we heat an acre. “ Heat” has been altered to ‘clear’ in this passage; but it is in Shakespeare’s style to use a noun as a verb. See Note 49, Act iii., “Taming of the Shrew.” Here he uses “ heat”’ (in its sense of a certain course, or portion of a race) for a verb, expressing ‘to run a course or race.’ (31) But to the goal. ‘But to return to the object we had in view, the point we were discussing.’ (32) And clap thyself my love. To clap or clasp hands on con- cluding a bargain, was formerly the custom; and is not yet wholly disused. (33) Tremor cordis. Latin; ‘trembling of the heart.’ (34) From bounty, fertile bosom. Hanmer and others add an ‘’s’ to “bounty” here; reading ‘from bounty’s fertile bosom ;’ but it is more in Shakespeare’s style, when a speaker is arguing a ques- tion, to make him thus enumerate point by point, heaping up, as it were, successive motives. “Fertile bosom” we take to mean here ‘generous disposition,’ ‘effusive nature;’ he often uses “bosom’”’ in the sense of ‘ native disposition.’ (35) The mort o’ the deer. ‘The death o’ the deer ;’? French, mort, —— 656 Mam. Ay, my good lord. Leon. T’ fecks !°6 Why, that’s my bawcock.*”7 What, hast smutch’d thy nose ?*— They say, it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain : And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf, Are all call’d neat.—[Observing Pourxenrs and Hermione.] Still virginalling® Upon his palm ?—How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf? Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord. Leon. Thou want’st a rough pash, and the shoots that I have,*° To be full like me:*!—yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs ; women say so, That will say anything: but were they false As o’er-dy’d blacks, as wind, as waters,—false As dice are to be wish’d by one that fixes No bourn ’twixt his and mine ;—yet were it true To say this boy were like me.—Come, sir page, Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! Most dear’st ! my collop!#—Can thy dam ?—may *t be P— Affection ! thy intention stabs the centre ;* Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicat’st with dreams ;—(how can this be ?)— With what ’s unreal thou coactive art, And fellow’st nothing: then ’tis very credent,” Thou mayst co-join with something ; and thou dost,— And that beyond commission ;“ and I find it,— And that to the infection of my brains, And hardening of my brows. Pol. What means Sicilia ? Her. He something seems unsettled. Pol. How, my lord? What cheer ? how is’t with you,** best brother? * Her. You look death. “The mort o’ the deer” was the name given to a prolonged note blown on the hunting-horn at the death of the deer. On the latter word there is a play, in its similitude to ‘ dear.’ (36) I’ fecks! A corruption of either ‘I’ faith,’ or “ In fact.’ (37) Bawcock. A term of facetious endearment. See Note 60, Act iii, “Twelfth Night.’ (38) What, hast smutch’d thy nose? It is reserved for such a poet as Shakespeare to fearlessly introduce such natural touches as-a passing black, a flying particle of smut resting upon a child’s nose, and to make it turn to wonderfully effective account in stirring a father’s heart, agitating it with wild thoughts, and prompting fierce plays upon words ani bitter puns. Every phase that passion takes—writhing silence, tortured utterance, tearful lamen- tations, muttered jests more heart-withering than cries or com- plaints—all are known to Shakespeare, and are found in his page as in Nature’s. (39) Virginalling. ‘ Passing the fingers as over the keys of the virginals.’ The virginals was an instrument, the precursor of the spinnet, harpsichord, and pianoforte; and so called, because chiefly played by young girls. (40) Thou want’st a rough pash, and the shoots that Ihave. ‘Thou lack’st a rough head, and the budding horns that I have.’ “ Pash”’ is said to be a North British term for ‘head;’ and that it is pro- vincially used for a young bull-calf, whose horns are sprouting, and who blunders about and butts at everything. Shakespeare else- re uses “pash’’ for ‘strike violently,’ ‘dash,’ ‘give a strong ow. (41) To be full like me. ‘To be fully, or completely, like me.’ (42) False as o’er-dy’d blacks. The unsoundness of stuffs sub- jected to a black dye is notorious, and renders Shakespeare’s simile super-excellent. (43) Your welkin eye. ‘ Your eye, blue as the heavens.’ (44) Most dear’st ! my collop! ‘* Most dear’st’’ is one of Shake- speare’s double superlatives; and ‘‘my collop” is used as expres- sive of ‘a portion of mine own flesh.’ (45) Affection! thy intention stabs the centre. “ Affection” is here THE WINTER'S TALE. (Acrer. As if you held a brow of much distraction : Are you mov’d, my lord? Leon. No, in good earnest.— How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms !—Looking on the lines Of my boy’s face, methought I did recoil Twenty-three years ; and saw myself unbreech’d, In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous : How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash,” this gentleman.—Mine honest friend, Will you take eggs for money ?*! Mam. No, my lord, I’ll fight. Leon. You will? why, happy man be’s dole !®*— My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince, as we Do seem to be of ours ? Pol. If at home, sir, He’s all my exercise, my mirth, my matter: Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy ; My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : He makes a July’s day short as December ; And with his varying childness** cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. : Leon. So stands this squire - Offie’d with me: we two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your graver steps.—Hermione, How thou lov’st us, show-in our brother’s weleome;™ Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: Next to myself and my young rover, he’s Apparent to my heart.” er. If you would seek us, We are yours 7 the garden: shall’s attend you there ?* Leon. To your own bents dispose you:*” youll be found. ‘ used for ‘native inclination,’ ‘innate propensity,’ combined’ with the action of the imagination; as “‘intention”’ is used combinedly for ‘ will’ and ‘intensity.’ (46) Oredent. Credible, easily to be believed. The active for the passive form. See Note 50, Act iv., “Twelfth Night.” (47) Beyond commission. ‘Beyond due licence,’ ‘ beyond warrant or authority ;’ “‘commission”’ being here used as it is a short time since, where Hermione says—“* I’ll give him my commission ;”’ that is, ‘my leave,’ ‘my permission.’ (48) What cheer? how is’t, &c. This line, in the Folio, has the prefix Leo.; but it is evidently a portion of Polixenes’ speech, and was thus first assigned by Hanmer. (49) Best brother. “ Best,’’ as an adjective of encomium or en- dearment, is still used by Italians, in their word oftimo. (50) Squash: An immature peas-pod; often used thus, playfully Rn A re for a young person. See Note 89, Acti., “Twelfth ight.’’ - (51) Will you take eggs for money? A proverbial expression, tantamount to ‘Will you tamely bear an affront?’ ‘Will you suffer yourself to be imposed upon?’ (52) Happy manbe’s dole. Another proverbial phrase, signifying, ‘May happiness be his lot.’ See Note 37, Act iii., ‘‘ Merry Wives.” (53) Childness. This abbreviation of ‘ childishness,’ for the sake of the metre in the line, has a graceful effect here. (54) How thow lov’st us, show in our brother's welcome. Thus enjoined by himself, it could be only the cruel injustice of that most unjust passion, jealousy, that makes Leontes resent his wife’s courtesy to Polixenes as a proof of her guilt. , (55) Apparent to my heart. ‘Nearest to my love;’. the heir- apparent being the nearest heir. . (56) Shall’s attend you there? ‘Shall we await you there?’ This elision of “shall’s” (shall us) is one of the many to be found in this play. See Note 14, Act i. “Attend” is here used in the sense of the French word attendre, to expect, to await. (57) To your own bents dispose you. ‘Dispose of yourselves ac- ' cording to your own inclinations.’ | Scenz IT. ] Be you beneath the sky.—[Aside.] Iam angling now, Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! [Observing Potrxenes and Hermione. How she holds up the neb,** the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing*® husband! Gone already! [Hxeunt Potrxenrs, Hermione, and Attendants. THE WINTER'S TALE. 6o7 That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for ’t there is none ; It is an evil planet, that will strike Where ’tis predominant; and ’tis powerful, think it, From east, weal north, and south: many thousand on’s® SS t / } F/M a S1 Ay i (Gf Sino Kany Leontes. Might’st bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink ; Which draught to me were cordial. Camillo. Inch-thick, knee-deep, o’er head and ears a fork’d one ! % Go, play, boy, play :—thy mother plays, and I Play too; but so disgrac’d a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour Will be my knell.—Go, play, boy, play.—There have been, Or I am much deceiv’d, dullards ere now; And many a man there is (even at this present, Now while I speak this), holds his wife by th’ arm, That little thinks she has been unfaithful with Sir Smile, his neighbour: should all despair (58) Neb. Saxon, nedbbe; the beak, the mouth. (59) Allowing. Shakespeare sometimes uses “allowed’’ in the sense of ‘approved,’ ‘ well-received.’ See Note 51, Act ii., “‘ Merry Wives.”’ And here it is probable that he uses “allowing” partly in this sense, partly in that of ‘encouraging,’ partly in that of ‘sanctioning,’ ‘authorising’; and even—according to his mode of using the active form for the passive one—that he ineludes the meaning of ‘allowed,’ ‘authorised,’ ‘lawfully sanctioned.’ 83 Sir, my lord. Act I. Scene TI. ' Have the disease, and feel ’*t not.—How now, boy! Mam. Iam like you, they say. Leon. Why, that’s some comfort.— What, Camillo there ? Cam. Ay, my good lord. Leon. Go play, Mamillius; thou’rt an honest man.— [Heit Maminuius. Camillo, this great sir® will yet stay longer. Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold : When you cast out, it still came home. Leon. Didst note it ? (60) A fork’d one. ‘A horned one.’ (61) On’s. An elision for ‘of us,’ “on” used for ‘of.’ 92, Acti., “ All’s Well.” ; (62) This great sir. Shakespeare, in several instances, uses “sir as a noun-substantive. (63) It still came home. A nautical phrase, signifying ‘the anchor would not take hold.’ See Note 658 Cam. He would not stay at your petitions ; made His business more material.*# Leon. Didst perceive it 2— [Aside.] They ’re here with me already ;® whisper- ing, rounding, “Sicilia is a so-forth:” *tis far gone, When I shall gust it last.”—How came ’t, Camillo, That he did stay ? Cam. At the good queen’s entreaty. Leon. At the queen’s be’t: good should be per- tinent ; But, so it is, it is not.68 Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine ? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in" More than the common blocks :—not noted, is ’t, But of the finer natures? by some severals Of head-piece extraordinary ? lower messes” Perchance are to this business purblind? say. Y ‘am. Business, my lord! I think most under- stand Bohemia stays here longer. Leon. Ha? Cam. Stays here longer. Leon. Ay, but why? Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. Leon. Satisfy The entreaties of your mistress !—satisfy !— Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the things nearest to my heart, as well My chamber-councils ; wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleans’d my bosom,—I from thee departed Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been Deceiv’d in thy integrity, deceiv’d In that which seems so. Cam. Be it forbid, my lord! Leon. To bide upon’t,"—thou art not honest; or, If thou inclin’st that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind,” restraining From course requir’d; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust, And therein negligent; or else a fool, (64) Made his business more material. ‘Made out his affairs to be the more important and urgent the more you besought him.’ (65) They're here with me already. An idiomatic phrase accom- panying a gesture, which is to be found in other dramatists besides Shakespeare. In the present passage, probably Leontes, while he speaks, is intended to make the sign vulgarly used for stigmatising a deceived husband; so that he means to say— The lookers-on are already mocking at me, and pointing me out as a gull.’ (66) Rounding. ‘Murmuring into the ear,’ “suggesting sinisterly.’ (67) When I shall gust it last. ‘Gust’? is, literally, ‘taste’; but it is here used for ‘come to the knowledge of.’ (68) But, so it is, it is not. ‘But as the case exists, the word “sood’’ is not pertinent.’ (69) Thy conceit is soaking, will draw in, &c. The construction here is elliptical; ‘and’ being understood before “ will.’ We be- lieve that in the present passage there is metaphorical allusion to the dyeing of hats, indicated by the word “ blocks,’’ which was used for ‘hats’ in Shakespeare’s time, and which he punningly uses here also for ‘heads’; and we therefore take the meaning of the whole passage to be— Was this black aspect of the matter taken by any pate but thine? For thy conception of it is steeped in the dye, and will draw in more than the ordinary run of hat-heads,’ (70) Lower messes. Used here for those of inferior rank, those who sat _at the lower end of the table. See Note 98, Act iv., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (71) To bide upon’t Equivalent to ‘decidedly,’ ‘definitively,’ ‘finally’; ‘I pide in this belief.’ (72) Which howes honesty behind. : To “hox,” or ‘hough,’ is to hamstring. THE WINTER’S TALE. [Acr I, That seest a game play’d home, the rich stake drawn, And tak’st it all for jest. Cum. My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Among the infinite doings of the world, Sometimes puts forth: in your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful-negligent, It was my folly ; if industriously I play’d the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful To do a thing where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance,’ ’twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest : these, my lord, Are such allow’d infirmities that honesty Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespass By its own visage :" if I then deny it Tis none of mine. Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, (But that’s past doubt,—you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a bullock’s horn), or heard (For, to a vision so apparent, rumour ; Cannot be mute), or thought (for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think) My wife is slippery?? If thou wilt confess (Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought), then say My wife ’s a worthless one; deserves a name As rank” as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-plight: say ’t, and justify *t. Cam. I would not be a stander-by to hear My sovereign mistress clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: ’shrew my heart, You never spoke what did become you less Than this; which to reiterate were sin As deep as that, though true.7 Leon. Is whispering nothing ? Is leaning cheek to cheek? stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh ? (a note infallible Of breaking honesty) ; horsing foot on foot ? (73) Whereof the execution did cry out against the non-performance. “Of which the execution, when once effected, proclaimed its non- performance to have been wrong.’ (74) By its own visage. One of the rare instances where Shake- speare uses “‘its’’; and the word again occurs in the present play ; which shows that “The Winter’s 'I'ale” was written after the use of “its” obtained among writers of our poet’s time, instead of the previously more frequently-used ‘his.’ See Note 16, Act iv, “Comedy of Errors.’’ (75) That does not think) my wife is, &c. Here, some editors insert ‘t after “think.” But the word “think,” though divided from the context by the mark of parenthesis, is to be taken in conjunction with the words that follow; thus, “that does not think my wife is,’ &e. The parenthesis forming part of the context is a construc- tion sometimes used; and here it is in keeping with the agitated utterance of the speaker. (76) Rank. This word, as used here, affords an example of the way in which Shakespeare doubly employs a single word; for “rank ’’ is used adverbially (for “rankly’) in reference to “de- serves,’ and adjectively in reference to “name.” Adverbially, it means ‘ thoroughly,’ ‘fully,’ ‘utterly’; adjectively it means ‘coarse,’ gross. (77) Which to reiterate were sin as deep as that, though true. Here “though” is used in the peculiar way we have previously observed upon. See Note 104, Act ii., “Twelfth Night.” “Though” is here equivalent to ‘an though it were’; and the meaning of the whole sentence is—‘'T'o repeat which coarse imputation would be a ne as deep as that of which you accuse her, an though it were rue. Scene IT.| Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift ? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web,’* but theirs, theirs only, : That ould unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that’s in’t, is nothing ; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing ; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing. Cam. Good my lord, be cur’d Of this diseas’d opinion, and betimes ; For ’tis most dangerous. Leon. Say it be, *tis true. Cam. No, no, my lord. Leon. It is; you lie, you lie: T say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee ; Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave ; Or else a hovering temporiser, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both: were my wife’s liver Infected as her life, she would not live The running of one glass.” Cam. Who does infect her? Leon. Why, he that wears her like her medal,® hanging About his neck, Bohemia :—who, if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine honour as their profits, Their own particular thrifts,—they would do that Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, His cup-bearer,—whom I from meaner form Have bench’d, and rear’d to worship ; who mayst see Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, How I am galléd,—might’st bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink ; Which draught to me were cordial. Cam. Sir, my lord,*! I could do this, and that with no rash* potion, But with a lingering dram, that should not work Maliciously ** like poison: but I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread * mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have lov’d thee,— Leon. Make that thy question,® and go rot! Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself* in this vexation ; sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets,— Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps ; Give scandal to the blood o’ the prince my son,— Who I do think is mine, and love as mine,— (78) The pin and web. An early stage of cataract in the eye. (79) Glass. ‘ Hour-glass.’ (80) Like her medal. ‘‘ Her’ has been changed to ‘a’ and to ‘his’ by various editors; but “her medal” means ‘her own medal- portrait,’ or ‘a medal-portrait of herself.’ (81) Sir, my lord. A form of address that Shakespeare uses several times. = (82) Rash. Here used for ‘hasty,’ ‘speedy.’ (83) Maliciously. Used to express ‘with malignant suddenness, and betraying tokens.’ (84) Dread. Used in the sense of ‘revered,’ ‘held in awe.’ (85) Make that thy question. ‘Question the truth of that.’ Here, “that’’ refers to Hermione’s infidelity, not to Camillo’s profession ee ee towards Leontes. See Note 20, Act ii., “As You ike It.”’ (86) To appoint myself. “To” is here used elliptically for ‘as to. See Note 5, Act v., “Twelfth Night.” “Appoint”’ is here THE WINTER'S TALE. 659 Without ripe moving to’t?*? Would I do this? Could man so blench ?* Cam. I must believe you, sir: Ido; and will fetch off Bohemia for ’t ; Provided that, when he’s remov’d, your highness Will take again your queen as yours at first, Even for your son’s sake ; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues® in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours. Leon. Thou dost advise me Even so as mine own course have set down: I’ll give no blemish to her honour, none. Cam. My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen. I am his cup-bearer : If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant. Leon. This is all: Do’t, and thou hast the one half of my heart ; Do’t not, thou splitt’st thine own. Cam. I?ll do’t, my lord. Leon. J will seem friendly, as thou hast advis’d me. [ Hast. Cam. Oh, miserable lady !—But, for me, What case stand lin? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do’*t Is the obedience to a master; one, Who, in rebellion with himself, will have All that are his, so too.—To do this deed, Promotion follows: if I could find example Of thousands that have struck anointed kings, And flourish’d after, 1’d not do’t; but since Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, Let villainy itself forswear’t. I must Forsake the court: to do’t, or no, is certain To me a break-neck.— Happy star reign now! Here comes Bohemia. Re-enter PoLIxENES. Pol. This is strange: methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak ?-— Good day, Camillo. Cam. Hail, most royal sir ! Pol. What is the news i’ the court ? Cam. None rare, my lord. Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance, As he had lost some province, and a region Lov’d as he loves himself: even now I met him With customary compliment; when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling used in a very peculiar sense; of which we find an example in a line by Milton :— * Appoint not heavenly disposition, Father ;” where the word seems to mean, as in the present passage by Shakespeare, ‘ Point out for blame,’ ‘mark out for censure,’ ‘ stig- matise, ‘ asperse.’ p (87) Without ripe moving to’t. “ Ripe”’ is here used for ‘urgent, ‘pressing,’ ‘extreme.’ See Note 62, Acti., “Merchant of Venice.” (88) Could man so blench 2? ‘Could man so deviate or start away from propriety of conduct?’ See Note 71, Act iv., “ Measure for Measure.” ; , (89) For sealing the injury of tongues. Here “sealing” is used for ‘closing,’ ‘putting a stop to’; and “injury” is used in its classical sense as derived from the Latin, injuria, one meaning of which is ‘contumelious language.’ Bacon uses it with the meaning of ‘abuse,’ ‘calumny’; and the French still employ it thus in their 660 A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and So leaves me, to consider what is breeding That changes thus his manners. Cam. I dare not know, my lord. Pol. How! dare not! do not. and dare not Be intelligent” to mo? °Tis thereabouts ; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must,®*! And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang’d complexions are to me a mirror, Which shows me mine chang’d too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter’d with ’t.” Cam. There is a sickness Which puts some of us in distemper; but I cannot name the disease; and it is caught Of you that yet are well. Pol. How! caught of me! Make me not sighted like the basilisk :% I have look’d on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill’d none so. Camillo,— As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto Clerk-like, experiene’d, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents’ noble names, In whose success we are gentle,®»—I beseech you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform’d, imprison ’*t not In ignorant concealment. Cam. I may not answer. Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer’d.—Dost thou hear, Camillo, I cénjure thee, by all the parts of man Which honour does acknowledge,—whereof the least Is not this suit of mine,—that thou declare What incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; Which way to be prevented, if to be; If not, how best to bear it. Cam. Sir, I will tell you; Since I am charg’d in honour, and by him That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel, Which must be even as swiftly follow’d as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry “lost,” and so good night ! Pol. On, good Camillo. Do you know, word injure. Shakespeare, according to his mode of combining several significations in one comprehensive word, includes that of ‘wrong,’ ‘harm,’ ‘ detriment’ in the present passage. (90) Intelligent. Shakespeare uses this word in the sense of “conveying intelligence,’ ‘ giving information’; and here it has the effect of ‘explicit.’ The whole passage means, ‘Do you know, and dare not tell me or avow to me that which you know?’ (91) You must. In Shakespeare’s condensed style, these words are used elliptically; and “be intelligent” is understood as re- peated after “must”; the whole passage meaning, ‘You must avow to yourself what you know.’ (92) Thus alter’d with’t. “ Alter’d” is here used so as to include the senses which the French verb bears in such phrases as, cela altére la santé (that impairs the health), and cela altére V'amitié (that diminishes or weakens friendship). Camillo’s word “ sickness,” im- mediately after, shows that Polixenes’ word “altered” has one of the above significations ; and we think it combines both, together with its more usual acceptation of ‘changed.’ a eee like the basilisk. See Note 70, Act iii., “Twelfth ight. (94) Our gentry. Used here for ‘our degree in rank or in gentle birth.’ See Note 4, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” (95) In whose success we are gentle. ‘ By our succession (or descent) from whom we have gentility of rank.’ (€) IT am oped him to murder you. *T am he who is ap- pointed to murder you.’ THE WINTER’S TALE. [Act I. Cam. Iam appointed him to murder you.™ Pol. By whom, Camillo? Cam. By the king. Pol. For what ? Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, As he had seen ’t, or been an instrument To vice you to’t,®’ that you have touch’d his queen Forbiddenly. Pol. Oh, then my best blood turn To an infected jelly, and my name Be yok’d with his that did betray the Best! Turn then my freshest reputation to A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn’d, Nay, hated too, worse than the great’st infection That e’er was heard or read!” Cam. Swear his thought over! By each particular star in heaven and By all their influences, you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon,'®! As, or by oath, remove, or counsel, shake The fabric of his folly, whose foundation Is pil’d upon his faith,!? and will continue The standing of his body. Pol. How should this grow ? !% Cam. I know not: but I am sure ’tis safer to Avoid what ’s grown than question how ’tis born. If, therefore, you dare trust my honesty,— That lies encloséd in this trunk,!* which you Shall bear along impawn’d,—away to-night. Your followers I will whisper to the business ; And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns, Clear them o’ the city: for myself, Ill put My fortunes to your service, which are here By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ; For, by the honour of my parents, I Have utter’d truth: which if you seek to prove, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer Than one condemnéd by the king’s own mouth, Thereon his execution sworn. Pol. I do believe thee : I saw his heart in’s face. Give me thy hand: Be pilot to me, and thy places! shall Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and (97) An instrument to vice you to’t. Shakespeare here uses “instrument” for motive agent, or operating cause, as he does in the passage commented upon in Note 25, Act v., “ Twelfth Night”; and he uses “‘ vice” here somewhat as he uses “screw” there, for that which forces, impels, or urges. Here “ vice” (used as a verb) has double propriety; inasmuch as it includes the sense of viciously urges or incites. (98) His that did betray, &c. Judas Iscariot. (99) That eer was heard or read! HElliptically expressed; ‘of’ being understood after “read.” (100) Swear his thought over. Shakespeare uses “overswear” (“Twelfth Night,” Act v., sc. 1) for recapitulate by confirmatory oaths; and he here uses ‘‘swear over” for countervail by disclama- tory oaths. (101) Forbid the sea for to obey the moon. See Note 10 of this Act. “For” is here used redundantly, which was then admissible, and in the present instance aids the metre. (102) Whose foundation is pil'd upon his faith. ‘The foundation of which is built upon his firm belief,’ (103) How should this grow? ‘From whence should this have arisen?’ ‘How could this have originated ?’ (104) Trunk. Here, as elsewhere, used for ‘body,’ ‘material frame,’ ‘ corporeal substance.’ (105) Thy places. Shakespeare seems to use this expression here to convey the combined meaning of position as to fortune, and spot wherein to dwell; for we afterwards find that Polixenes confers Nan fh ne DA LS } IE SEZ - FZ ae \\ Ht hh ae Oo Mamitllius. I will tell it softly; Yond’ crickets shall not hear it. Hermione. And give’t me in mine ear. Come on, then, Act II. Scene LI. Scene I. | My people did expect my hence departure Two days ago.—This jealousy Is for a precious creature: as she’s rare, Must it be great; and, as his person’s mighty, Must it be violent; and as he does conceive He is dishonour’d by a man which ever Profess’d to him, why, his revenges must In that be made more bitter. Fear o’ershades me: THE WINTER'S TALE. 663 Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen,’ part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta’en suspicion! Come, Camillo ; I will respect thee as a father, if Thou bear’st my life off hence: let us avoid. Cam. It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the posterns :'” please your highness To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away. [Hzxeunt. AeGel Scene I.—Srcer1a. A room in the palace. Enter Hermione, Mamituius,; and Ladies. Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, *Tis past enduring. First Lady. Come, my gracious lord, Shall I be your playfellow ? Mam. No, Ill none of you. First Lady. Why, my sweet lord ? Mam. You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if I were a baby still.'—I love you better. Sec. Lady. And why so, my lord? Mam. Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best, so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semicircle, Or a half-moon made with a pen. Sec. Lady. Who taught you this? Mam. I learn’d it out of women’s faces.—Pray now What colour are your eyebrows ? First Lady. Blue, my lord. Mam. Nay, that’s a mock: I have seen a lady’s nose That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. First Lady. Hark ye ; The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall Present our services to a fine new prince One of these days; and then you’d wanton with us, If we would have you. manifold dignities and honours upon Camillo, and keeps him ever near to himself in Bohemia. (106) Good expedition be my friend, and comfort the gracious, Sc. This sentence has been pronounced to be obscure and probably corrupt. But we think that the reason it has been found so, is because “ expedition” has been taken in the sense of hasty de- parture; whereas, if it be taken in the sense of ‘speed’ (used as Shakespeare employs that word in Act iii., sc. 2, of the present play),—for ‘success,’ ‘process of event,’ ‘issue or result of occur- rence,’ ‘destined ordination of action or incident,’-—the meaning of the whole passage becomes clear, although condensedly and ellipti- cally expressed. We interpret it to signify, ‘Good speed (or prosperous issue of events) befriend me, and comfort the queen; ~ who is, with myself, the object of his anger, but who, like myself, deserves no jot of his misconceived suspicion !’ (107) Posterns. Gates; generally small doors or gates. See Note 31, Act iv., “‘ Measure for Measure.” (1) As if I were a baby still. Can anything be more per- fectly true to young boy natare? And not only in this touch, but in the whole sketch of the child’s character, Shakespeare Tet: Sec. Lady. She is spread of late Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her ! Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you? sir, NOW Tam for you again: pray you, sit by us, And tell’s a tale. Come, Mam. Merry or sad shall ’t be ? Her. As merry as you will. Mam. soe aa Se Scrne III.] Or hoop his body! more with thy embraces, I will devise a.death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to ’t.!” Per. 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.“°’—[ To Fiorizeu.] 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, [ll queen it no inch farther, But milk my ewes and weep. [ Exit. Cam. Why, how now, father ! Speak ere thou diest. Shep. I cannot speak, nor think, Nor dare to know that which I know.!-—[To Fiorizeu.| Oh, sir, You have undone a man of fourscore three,!# That thought to fill his grave in quiet,—yea, To die upon the bed my father died,!*° To lie close by his honest bones: but now Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust.&°—[To Prrpira.] Oh, curséd wretch, That knew’st this was the prince, and wouldst adventure To mingle faith with him !—Undone! undone ! If I might die within this hour, I have liv’d To die when I desire. [ Heit. Flo. Why look you so upon me? Lam but sorry, not afeard; delay’d, But nothing alter’d :! what I was, I am ; More straining on, for plucking back ; not following My leash unwillingly. ~ Cam. Gracious my lord, You know your father’s temper: at this time He wiil allow no speech,—which I do guess You do not purpose to him ;—and as hardly Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: Then, till the fury of his highness settle, Come not before him. (144) Or hoop his body. The Folio prints ‘hope’ here for “hoop ;” Pope’s correction. / (145) A death as cruel for thee as thowart tender to’t. Here “to ’t” means ‘compared with it;’ an ellipsis of comparison like the one pointed out in Note 133, Act ii., “ All’s Well.” (146) Looks on alike. It has been proposed to insert ‘all,’ or ‘both,’ after “on” here; but Shakespeare uses the verb to “look” peculiarly, as we observed in Note 133 of this Act; and in the present passage “looks on alike’’ is used as implying the “his court’ and “our cottage’”’ just named. (147) Nor dare to know that which I know. By such quiet by- touches as these Shakespeare teaches morality, and not by parading lessons. Had the old Shepherd had moral courage to speak out that which he knows, to declare simply that Perdita is none of his daughter, no shepherd’s child, but an infant found with certain writings and rich belongings, he would have been spared the fears he here expresses. But Shakespeare not only thus instils moral precept; he also, as a dramatist, makes his characters act charac- teristically, and thereby fulfils the art-necessity of protracting the final evolvement of his plot. (148) Of fourscore three. Instance of a similar contraction with the one pointed out in Note 48, Act iv., “ All’s Well.” (149) To die wpon the bed my father died. “On” is understood after “died ;’’ an ellipsis, like the one before met within this play. See Note 99, Acti. (150) Where no priest shovels in dust. It was the custom in the burial service, before the time of Edward VI., for the priest to throw earth on the body in the form of across. Theold Shepherd’s dread lest he should be denied the rites of sepulture, and have but THE WINTERS TALE. 695 Flo. T not purpose it. I think, Camillo? Cam. Even he, my lord. Per. How often have I told you ’twould be thus ! 1°? How often said, my dignity would last But till ’twere known ! Flo. Tt cannot fail, but by The violation of my faith ; and then, Let Nature crush the sides o’ the earth together, And mar the seeds within !—Lift up thy looks :— From my succession wipe me, father ; I Am heir to my affection. Cam. Be advis’d. Flo. Tam,—and by my fancy :° if my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ; If not, my senses, better pleas’d with madness, Do bid it welcome. Cam. This is desperate, sir. Flo. So call it: but it does fulfil my vow, I needs must think it honesty.'* Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat glean’d ; for all the sun sees, or The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair belov’d: therefore, | pray you, As you have ever been my father’s honour’d friend, When he shall miss me (as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more), cast your good counsels Upon his passion: let myself and fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And so deliver,—I am put to sea With her whom here I cannot hold on shore ; And, most oppértune to our need,!”> I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar’d For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting. Cam, Oh my lord, _ I would your spirit were easier for advice, Or stronger for your need! Flo. Hark, Perdita.!*—[ Taking her aside. (To Camrtxo.] I'll hear you by-and-by. - a felon’s fete, is in close keeping with his former pious resolve to give buri:1t» the remains of Antigonus. See Note 62, Act iii. Ty (151) Devsy’d, but nothing alter’d. Here “ delay'd,”’ besides meaning ‘deferred or postponed in my intentions,’ means ‘tem- porarily checked, baffled, hindered, or frustrated in them.’ See Note 26, Act iv., “ All’s Well.” ne (152) How often have I told you ’twould be thus! The repetition of this earnest reminder to the prince of her having always striven to show him how unlikely it was that his purpose should prosper, marks the noble indignation of Perdita at the king’s charge that she has sought to win Florizel, and is in strict harmony with her royal nature. It is from this imputation that she is most solicitous to free herself: it is this which most keenly wounds her; and she remains quietly downcast, with a majesty of silent reserve worthy of Hermione’s daughter. : (153) And by my fancy. Here “fancy,” as so often elsewhere, is used for ‘ affection,’ ‘ love.’ (154) But it does fulfil my vow, I needs, Kc. ‘As’ is understood after “but.” This elliptical mode of Shakespeare’s is admirably characteristic of the hurried manner of an eager or agitated speaker. ‘ ” (155) Oppértune to our need. The Folio prints ‘her’ for “our ;” Theobald’s correction. : (156) Hark, Perdita. Here is a perfect, though apparently slight example of Shakespeare’s dramatic art. By Florizel’s taking Perdita apart we are made to perceive how he sees that she stands silently—as it were irresponsively and unassentingly by—while he speaks to Camillo; and how he hastens to confer with her, and con- vince her of his unswerved faith, and persuade her to his views 696 Cam. He’s irremovable, Resolv’d for flight.” Now were I happy, if His going I could frame to serve my turn; Save him from danger, do him love and honour; Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia, And that unhappy king, my master, whom I so much thirst to see. Flo. Now, good Camillo, I am so fraught with curious !** business, that I leave out ceremony. Cam. Sir, I think You have heard of my poor services, i’ the love [Going. . That I have borne your father ? Flo. Very nobly Have you deserv’d: it is my father’s music To speak your deeds ; not little of his care To have them recompens’d as thought on.!°? Cam. Well, my lord, If you may please to think I love the king, And, through him, what is nearest to him, which is Your gracious self, embrace but my direction (If your more ponderous and settled project May suffer alteration), on mine honour Tl point you where you shall have such receiving As shall become your highness ; where you may Enjoy your mistress (from the whom, I see, There’s no disjunction to be made, but by, As heavens forfend! your ruin); marry her; And (with my best endeavours in your absence) Your discontenting !“ father strive to qualify, And bring him up to liking,!*! Flo. How, Camillo, May this, almost a miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than man, And, after that, trust to thee. Cam. Have you thought on A place whereto you'll go? Flo. Not any yet: But as th’ unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do,'® so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows. Cam. Then list to me: This follows,—if you will not change your purpose, But undergo this flight,—make for Sicilia ; And there present yourself and your fair princess (For so, I see, she must be) ’fore Leontes : She shall be habited as it becomes The partner of your bed. Methinks I see Leontes opening his free arms, and weeping moreover, it affords opportunity for Camillo’s soliloquy, which tells the audience his plan. (157) He’s irremovable, resolv’d for flight. “ Irremovable’”’ may here be used adverbially for ‘irremovably ;’ but if we take it as an adjective, we must understand “he’s” as repeated before “resolv’d.” (158) Curious. Here used for ‘particular,’ ‘requiring special care. See Note 46, Acti, “ All’s Well.” (159) Recompens’d as thought on. Elliptically expressed, meaning ‘recompensed as highly as they are estimated.’ (160) Discontenting. Used here for ‘discontented.’ See Note 97, Act v., “ Love’s Labour’s Lost.” _ (161) To qualify and bring him up to liking. him round to approving the marriage.’ (162) Accident is guilty to what we wildly do. A similar form of construction to the one pointed out in Note 38, Act iii., “ Comedy of Errors.” “The unthought-on accident” is the unforeseen discovery made by his father. (163) Your fresh princess. ‘To pacify, and bring Shakespeare, ever felicitous in his THE WINTER'S TALE. [Acr IV. His welcomes forth ; asks thee, the son, forgiveness, As ’twere i’ the father’s person ; kisses the hands Of your fresh princess ;! o’er and o’er divides him *Twixt his unkindness and his kindness,—the one He chides aloof, and bids the other grow Faster than thought, or time. Flo. Worthy Camillo, What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him ? Cam. Sent by the king,'* your father To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with ' What you, as from your father, shall deliver, Things known, betwixt us three, ll write you down: . The which shall point you forth at every sitting '® What you must say; that he shall not perceive But that you have your father’s bosom there, And speak his very heart. Flo. I am bound to you: There is some sap in this. Cam. A course more promising Than a wild dedication of yourselves To unpath’d waters, undream’d shores, most certain To miseries enough: no hope to help you; But, as you shake off one, to take another: Nothing so certain as your anchors ; who | Do their best oftice,'® if they can but stay you Where you'll be loath to be: besides, you know, Prosperity’s the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together, Affliction alters. Per. One of these is true: I think affliction may subdue the cheek, But not take in the mind.!7 Cam. Yea, say you so? There shall not, at your father’s house, these seven years Be born another such. Flo. My good Camillo, She is as forward of her breeding, as She is 7? the rear of our birth.!® Cam. I cannot say ’tis pity She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress To most that teach. Per. Your pardon, sir, for this ; Pll blush you thanks.!® Flo. My prettiest Perdita !— But, oh, the thorns we stand upon !—Camillo,— Preserver of my father, now of me, The med’cine of our house !—how shall we do ? choice of epithets, has twice during the present scene applied that of “fresh” to Perdita with exquisite appropriateness. It serves to set her in her clear-complexioned, clear-souled purity and bright- ness before us, with the bloom of a country maiden’s cheek, and the white temples of the born princess. (164) Sent by the king. before “sent.” (165) Every sitting. Every audience or interview. The royal council-days were called “ sittings” in Shakespeare's time. (166) Your anchors; who, fc. “‘ Who ” is here used for ‘ which; ’ as elsewhere ‘ which’ is used for “ who.” (167) Not take in the mind. “Take in” was an idiom for ‘con- quer,’ ‘overcome,’ ‘defeat... We meet with this idiom elsewhere used by Shakespeare. j bi no I the rear of our birth. The Folio prints irth.’ (169) Your pardon, sir, for this ; T'll blush, &c. The Folio places a comma at “sir’’ and at “this;” and some editors place a semicolon at “sir,” instead of at “ this.” “That you are’ is elliptically understood ‘i th’ reare ’our But we think the semicolon should Scene III. ] We are not furnish’d like Bohemia’s son, Nor shall appear in Sicilia.!7 Cam. My lord, Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes Do all lie there : it shall be so my care To have you royally appointed, as if The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want,—one word. [They talk aside. Re-enter Avtoniycus. Aut. Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery ; not a counterfeit stone, not a riband, glass, pomander,!! brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng? who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed,!3 and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which means, I saw whose purse was best in picture ;!74 and what I saw, to my good use I remembered. My clown (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in love with the wenches’ song, that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words; which so drew the rest of the herd to me, that all their other senses stuck in ears: ’twas nothing to cut a purse,—I would have filed keys off that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my si’s song, and admiring the nothing of it.” So that, in this time of lethargy, I picked and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoobub' against his daughter and the king’s son, and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army. [Caminto, Fiorizex, and Perprra come Forward. Cam. Nay, but my letters, by this means being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.17 Flo. And those that you'll procure from King Leontes,— Cam. Shall satisfy your father. Per. Happy be you! All that you speak shows fair. come after “this,” meaning, for blushing him thanks instead of | speaking them. (170) Nor shall appear in Sicilia. ‘So’ may be understood after “appear ;’’ for “like Bohemia’s son” is implied in this sentence, as “his court” and “our cottage” are implied in “looks on alike.” See Note 146 of this Act. (171) Pomander. A little ball made of perfumed paste; and worn in the pocket, hung from the neck, or attached to the wrist. The word was an English corruption of the French name pomme dambre, an ambergris apple. (172) They throng. It has been suggested that “ throng ” should here be ‘ thronged ;’ but in narrative writing a deviation is often made into the present tense by. other writers besides Shakespeare. See Note 38, Act i., “Tempest.” (173) As if my trinkets had been hallowed. Tn allusion to the strings of beads or rosaries, which, touched by some relic, were sold, as possessing peculiar sanctity. (174) Was best in picture. ‘Was plumpest in appearance.’ (175) The nothing of it. A pun similar to the one pointed out in Note 56, Act ii., “Much Ado.” (176) A whoobub. What is now called a ‘hubbub. The original word is said to be derived from the phrase ‘the whoop is up,’ meaning, ‘ the hue-and-ery is making.’ (177) That doubt. Referring to one supposed to be expressed by the prince during their conference apart. (178) Discase thee. Strip thee. of thy skin; take off thine outer garments. Prospero says, “ I will discase me” (‘ Tempest,” Act v., sc. 1), when he exchanges his magic robes for the “ hat and rapier ”’ of his former self as Duke of Milan. See also Note 51, Act i., “Taming of the Shrew.’’ THE WINTER'S TALE. 697 Cam [Seeing Avrorycus.] Whom have we here? We'll make an instrument of this; omit Nothing may give us aid. Aut. [Aside.] If they have overheard me now,-— why, hanging. Cam. How now, poor fellow! why shakest thou so? Fearnot,man; here’s no harm intended to thee. Aut. Iam a poor fellow, sir. Cam. Why, be so still; here’s nobody will steal that from thee: yet, for the outside of thy poverty, we must make an exchange; therefore discase thee 178 instantly (thou must think there’s a necessity in ’t), and change garments with this gentleman : though the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there’s some boot.1” [Giving money. Aut. I ama poor fellow, sir.—[Aside.] I know ye well enough. Cam. Nay, pr’ythee, despatch: the gentleman is half flayed'* already. Aut. Are you in earnest, sir ?—[Aside.] I smell the trick on ’t. Filo. Despatch, I pr’ythee. Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest;!5! but I cannot with conscience take it. Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle.— [Fuorizen and Avroxycus exchange garments. Fortunate mistress,—let my prophecy! Come home to ye !—you must retire yourself Into some covert: take your sweetheart’s hat And pluck it o’er your brows; muffle your face ; Dismantle you; and, as you can, disliken The truth of your own seeming; '* that you may (For I do fear eyes over) !** to shipboard Get undescried. Per. I see the play so lies That I must bear a part.!% Cam. No remedy.— Have you done there ? Flo. Should I now meet my father, He would not call me son. Cam. Nay, you shall have no hat.— [Giving it to Perpira. Come, lady, come.'°—Farewell, my friend. (179) There’s some boot. Meaning, there’s something additional, over and above the advantage of the exchange. (180) Half flayed. Playing on the word “ discase,’’ used pre- viously ; “case’’ being an old word for‘skin.’ See Note 29, Act v., “Twelfth Night.’’ (181) I have had earnest. Used punningly ; in its sense of ‘mc ney received in token that a bargain is ratified,’ and in reference to his having asked, “ Are you in earnest, sir?” : (182) My prophecy. Alluding to his having said, “Your fair princess (for so, I see, she must be).’’ (183) And, as you can, disliken the truth of your own seeming. © And, as well as you can, make yourself unlike your own identity of appearance.’ (184) (For I do fear eyes over.) ‘“ Over” has been altered to ‘ ever,’ to ‘over you,’ and to ‘over’s;’ but Shakespeare often uses such words as these so elliptically—especially in the present play and some others—that we think “over”? here may be employed to signify “over us,’ or ‘over what we are doing.’ Be it remembered that in the first scene of this Act Polixenes has said to Camillo, “I have eyes under my service, which look upon his removedness ;”’ therefore, “eyes over,’ in reference to these, may be meant to express ‘spying eyes,’ ‘ watching eyes.’ ‘ (185) I see the play so lies, fc. The reluctance shown by Perdita to join in the scheme of proposed flight, disguise, and consequent deception thereby entailed, is delineated with a force none the less remarkable from the extreme delicacy of the depicting, and which serves strikingly to characterise this transparent-natured creature. It shows the true royalty of spirit in her, as well as the lily recti- tude of this paragon of pastoral princesses. ' (186) Come, lady, come. It is noteworthy that Camillo has 698 Aut. Adieu, sir. Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! Pray you, a word. [They converse apart. Cam. [Aside.] What I do next, shall be to tell the king Of this escape, and whither they are bound ; Wherein, my hope is, I shall so prevail To force him after: in whose company I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight I have a woman’s longing. Flo. Fortune speed us !— Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. Cam. The swifter speed the better. | Hxeunt FuorizeL, Perpita, and Cami.uo. Aut. I understand the business, I hear it: to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot ! what a boot is here with this exchange! Sure, the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do anything extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity,—stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do’t:!*7 I hold it the more knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to my profession. Re-enter Clown and Shepherd. Aside, aside ; here is more matter for a hot brain : 18 every lane’s end, every shop, church, session, hang- ing, yields a careful man work. Clo. See, see; what aman you are now! There is no other way but to tell the king she’s a change- ling,'*®® and none of your flesh and blood. Shep. Nay, but hear me. Clo. Nay, but hear me. Shep. Go to, then. Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king ; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by gradually increased in respect towards Perdita, throughout this long and very fine scene. He begins by being struck with her love- liness and grace, paying her a direct compliment upon them, which she waives aside with the playful ease of a high-born lady. He next calls her “the queen of curds and cream ;” and, subsequently, “fortunate mistress;’? but here, at last, he addresses her as “lady.” Thus subtly does Shakespeare draw his most beautiful characters ; not only by their own words and deeds, but by that which is said of them, and by the impression they produce on others. Moreover, this little touch of Camillo’s finally calling Perdita “lady,” forms not only a spontaneous homage to her native refinement, but it is exquisitely characteristic of the veteran resider in courts; who, seeing that she will inevitably become the wife of the heir-apparent to the throne, almost unconsciously gives her a title befitting her prospective rank. (187) If I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do’t. The word “not” has been transposed by various editors, to various places in this sentence; some placing it after “‘ thought,’ some after “‘ were.’’ But it appears to us that, as the text stands, Autolycus means to say, “‘ Evenif I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do it ;”’ but as it would be only a piece of spydom, and keeping the prince’s flight a secret will be a piece of worse mischief, he decides upon “the more knavery ” of the two. There is an effect of antithesis between “‘a piece of honesty” and “more knavery;’’ but it is really a comparison between two knavish acts. Shakespeare some- ints has these apparent antitheses. See Note 100, Act i., “Twelfth ight.’ (188) A hot brain. An active brain, an alert brain; a brain of lively and vigorous warmth. See Note 48, Act iii. What exquisite wit and humour there is in the expression, “a careful man,’’ put into Autolycus’ mouth! (189) There is no other way but to tell the king, &c. Most true to THE WINTER'S TALE. [Acr IV. him. Show those things you found about her; those secret things, all but what she has with her: this being done, let the law go whistle; I warrant you. Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his son’s pranks too,—who, I may say, is no honest man neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make me the king’s brother-in-law. Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have been to him; and then your blood has been the dearer, by I know how much an ounce.'” Aut. [Aside.] Very wisely, puppies. Shep. Well, let us to the king: there is that in this fardel!*! will make him scratch his beard. Aut. [Asides] I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master. Clo. Pray heartily he be at ’palace.!” Aut, [{Aside.] ThoughT am not naturally honest, T am so sometimes by chance :—let me pocket up my pedler’s excrement. [Takes off his false beard.|— How now, rustics! whither are you bound ? Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship. Aut. Your affairs there? what? with whom? the condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having,!** breeding, and anything that is fitting to be known? discover. Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir. Aut, A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying: it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the lie: but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; there- fore they do not give us the lie. ‘ Clo. Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner.) Shep. Are you a courtier, an ’t like you, sir? Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. See’st thou not the air of the court in these enfold- ings? hath not my gait in it the measure!” of the court? receives not thy nose court-odour from me? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt ? Think’st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze from — thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I Shakespeare’s philosophy of “good in everything” is the making this lout of a shepherd-Clown have just the spark of sense to per- ceive that in their present strait honesty is the best policy. See Note 147 of this Act. (190) By I know how much an ounce. Here Hanmer and others introduced ‘ not’ between “know” and “how ;” but Shakespeare often puts these kind of sentences into the mouths of his blun- derers, or introduces them in passages where he wishes to give a humorous effect; by giving the form of a commonly known phrase, yet varying in a word or so, and thus producing the impression of the usual phrase itself. See Note 47, Act iv., “ All’s Well.” (191) Fardel. A bundle; a parcel; a package. Italian,.fardello, a burden, a bundle. (192) Pray heartily he be at ’palace. This elisional abbreviation, omitting ‘the’ before a noun, is still in English provincial use, especially in Yorkshire. (193) Pedler’s excrement. Pedler’s beard ; which he has worn as a disguise. See Note 36, Act v., “Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (194) Of what having. Of what property or possession. See Note 18, Act ii., “Merry Wives.” (195) Taken yourself with the manner. “ Taken with the manner” is a legal technicality for ‘taken in the fact.’ See Note 31, Act i., **Love’s Labour’s Lost.’’ (196) These enfoldings? It must be remembered that Autolycus has on Florizel’s upper garment; which, though it be but the shepherd’s tunic or cloak that the prince wore at the rustic festival, yet has a sufficiently superior appearance to warrant Autolycus in asking whether it have not an “air of the court.” (197) The measure. The pace, the step. (198) For that I insinuate, or toze from thee thy, &c. “ For that” is here used for ‘because;’ “insinuate,” for ‘insinuate myself into thy confidence;’ and “toze” for ‘pluck,’ or ‘draw out.’ In “Measure for Measure,” Escalus, threatening the Duke with Scrnz ITI.} am courtier cap-d-pé ;' and one that will either push on, or pluck back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to open thy affair. Shep. _My business, sir, is to the king. Aut. What advocate hast thou to him ? Shep. I know not, an’t like you. Clo. Advocate ’s the court-word for pheasant : say you have none. Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. Aut. How bless’d are we that are not simple men ! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdain. Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.” Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: a great man, Ill warrant; I know by the picking on’s teeth.” Aut. The fardel there? what’s i’ the fardel ? Wherefore that box ? Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box, which none must know but the king; and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him. Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. Shep. Why, sir? Aut. The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air him- self: for, if thou be’st capable of things serious,” thou must know the king is full of grief. Shep. So ’tis said, sir,—about his son, that should have married a shepherd’s daughter. Aut. IPf that shepherd be not in hand-fast,? let him fly: the curses he shall have, the tortures be shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster. Clo. Think you so, sir? Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit? can make heavy, and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane’ to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman: which though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep- torture by the rack, says, “ We’ll touze you joint by joint ;” where it means ‘ pull,’ ‘drag,’ ‘stretch.’ In the Folio, this word is printed “towze” in “Measure for Measure,” and “toaze’’ in the present lay: but we believe that the same term is meant by the author in bork passages. In former days little consistency was maintained in orthography. it (199) Cap-d-pé. From head to foot. Originally a French term. In the times of Norman chivalry, a knight was said to be armed “cap-i-pé’’ when clad in a complete suit of armour; and since then the term has been more generally applied. (200) Adwvocate’s the court-word for a pheasant. The Clown takes “advocate”? to mean some thing, not some person, that will gain them favour with the king; as it was a frequent fashion, when addressing a great man, to take some offering of game, or other delicacy, and present it to him by way of conciliating his good graces. That “a pheasant’’ formed a usual propitiatory offering of this kind, we gather from an anecdote in the “ Hundred Merry Tales,” entitled, “Of mayster Skelton that brought the bysshop of Norwiche ii. fesauntes;” and it is probable that this, being a popularly known jest, the Clown’s fancying that “advocate”’ must be a courtly epithet for “a pheasant,” as meaning that which was to plead their cause and win them success (in coarser terms, ‘a bribe’), would be at once comprehended by the audience for whom Shakespeare wrote. (201) His garments are rich, but he wears them not eondeomely. The commencement of this speech shows that Florizel’s shepherd-attire was of stuff sufficiently fine, and of make sufficiently graceful, to suit with a festival occasion, and to seem deserving the epithet THE WINTER'S TALE. 699 whistling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be stoned ; but that death is too soft for him, say I: draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy. Clo. Has the old man e’era son, sir, do you hear, an’t like you, sir? Aut. He has a son,—who shall be flayed alive; then ’nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp’s nest; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again with aquavite, or some other hot infusion: then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims,” shall he be set against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him,—where he is to behold him with flies blown to death, But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at, their offences being so capital? Tell me (for you seem to be honest, plain men) what you have to the king: being something gently considered, ’ll bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfs; and if it be in man besides the king to effect your suits, here is man shall do it. Clo. He seems to be of great authority: close with him, give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold: show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember,—stoned, and flayed alive. Shep. An’t please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that gold I have: I’ll make it as much more, and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you. Aut. After I have done what I promised? Shep. Ay, sir. Aut. Well, give me tho moiety.—Are you a party in this business ? Clo. In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.2” Aut. Oh, that’s the case of the shepherd’s son: —hang him, he’ll be made an example. Clo. Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king, and show our strange sights; he must know “yich” in the old Shepherd’s eyes. His remark touching the in- consistency of the stranger’s garments, and his mode of wearing them, is in strict accordance with the shrewd instinct that fre. quently distinguishes unlettered men. (202) By the picking on’s teeth. A habit of the time among “ fan- tastical’’ fashionables ; as we confirmingly learn from a passage in the speech commented on in Notes 6,7, and 8, Act iii., “ All’s Well.” (203) Capable of things serious. “Capable” is here used for ‘able to understand,’ ‘capable of comprehending.’ See Note 20, Act ‘ie “ All’s Well.” (204) In hand-fast. This, and its synonyme, main-prise, are legal technicalities for being delivered into the custody of a friend, on bail or security being given. (205) Wit. Here used for ‘skill in cruelty,’ ‘barbarous inven- tion.’ (206) Germane. ‘ Akin,’ ‘ related.’ (207) The hottest day prognostication proclaims. ‘The hottest day predicted by the almanack.’ In Shakespeare’s time, calendars were published under this title:—‘*An Almanack and Prognostica- tion made for the year of our Lord God 1595.” (208) Being something gently considered. ‘If I be somewhat genteelly remunerated,’ Autolycus shows that he knows a “ court- word” for a hiring fee, as well as the Clown; ‘a consideration’ being a polite word for a handsome bribe. (209) Though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. A pun on the word “case; in its sense of © condi- a Ke ‘predicament,’ and in that of ‘skin” See Note 180 of is Act. a ee ey 700 THE WINTER’S TALE. VAct V. Clown. *tig none of your daughter nor my sister; we are gone else.—Sir, I will give you as much as this oid man does, when the business is performed; and remain, as he says, your pawn till it be brought you. Aut. Iwill trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side ; go on the right hand: I will but lock upon the hedge, and follow you. Clo. We are blessed in this man, as I may say, even blessed. Shep. Let’s before, as he bids us: he was pro- vided to do us good. [Hxeunt Shepherd and Clown. SCENE I.—Srcer1a. A room in the palace of LEonTES. Enter Leontes, CtEomenss, Dion, Pavtina, and others. Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have per- form’d A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make, a AVMs SS TS Jeb he eee h_S MARRIOTTS He seems to be of great authority: close with him, give him gold. Act IV. Scene ITI. Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion,—gold, and a means to do the prince my master good; which, who knows how that may turn back to my advance- ment? I will bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he think it fit to shore them again, and that the complaint they have to the king con- cerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far officious; for I am proof against that title, and what shame else belongs to ’t. To him willI present them: there may be matter in it. [ Hatt. AC TE Ve Which you have not redeem’d ; indeed, paid down More penitence than done trespass: at the last, Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them, forgive yourself. Leon. Whilst I remember Her and her virtues, I cannot forget My blemishes in them ; and so still think of The wrong I did myself: which was so much, Act V. Scene I. y lord, She is M ghter of a king ? Leontes. Florizel. When once she is my wife, Is this the dau ti —— ow ee iy - 7 = L . ' « . ‘ ‘ 7 ~ 7 ~ ry ¢ ' 7 . ‘ , oe ’ i ‘ - bie s - 4 * * is ) ~, 2S ae - Scare - > J? = | ' :—_ od eae feel, ext : t z - s Le hapa > y On Sara SS aa ac ec neem ee THE WINTER'S TALE. 703 Scene I.| That heirless it hath made my kingdom; and Destroy’d the sweet’st companion that e’er man Bred his hopes out of. Paul. True, too true,! my lord: If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or from the all that are took something good, To make a perfect woman, she you kill’d Would be unparallel’d. Leon. I think so. Kill’d! She I kill’d! I did so: but thou strik’st me Sorely, to say I did: it is as bitter Upon thy tongue as in my thought; now, good now, Say so but seldom. Cleo. Not at all, good lady : You might have spuken a thousand things that would Have done the time more benefit, and grac’d Your kindness better. Paul. You are oue of those Would have him wed again. Dion. If you would not so, You pity not the state, nor the remembrance Of his most sovereign name; consider little What dangers, by his highness’ fail of issue, May drop upon his kingdom, and devour Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy Than to rejoice the former queen is well 22 What holier than,—for royalty’s repair, For present comfort, and for future good,— To bless the bed of majesty again With a sweet fellow to ’t? Paul. There is none worthy, Respecting her that’s gone. Besides, the gods Will have fulfill’d their secret purposes ; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is ’*t not the tenour of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an heir Till his lost child be found ? which that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our human reason, As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me; who, on my life, Did perish with the infant. *Tis your counsel, My lord should to the heavens be contrary, Oppose against their wills.—[To Lronvxs.] Care not for issue ; The crown will find an heir: great Alexander Left his to the worthiest ; so his successor Was like to be the best. Leon. Good Paulina,— Who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour,—Oh, that ever I Had squar’d me to thy counsel !—then, even now, I might have look’d upon my queen’s full eyes ; Have taken treasure from her lips,— Paul. And left them More rich for what they yielded. (X) True, too true. The first “True,” in the Folio, forms part of the preceding speech. Theobald made the transposition. (2) The former queen is well. It was customary to say of the dead that they were “well;” at peace, at rest. (3) Begin, “And why to me?” The Folio prints this line, ‘ And begin, why to me?’ Steevens made the transposition; which we adopt as being the least variation from the original of the many proposed readings of this passage. We believe that here the word “appear,” while forming part of the parenthesis, has the effect of being understood in conjunction with the previous and succeeding context; and though not absolutely being one of the verbs to which “sainted spirit” is the nominative, yet, from its position, a ee Leon. Thou speak’st truth. No more such wives: therefore, no wife: one worse, And better us’d, would make her sainted spirit Again possess her corse, and on this stage (Where we offenders now appear), soul-vex’d, Begin, “And why to me?” Paul. Had she such power, She had just cause.4 Leon. She had: and would incense*® me To murder her I married. Paul. I should so. Were I the ghost that walk’d I’d bid you mark Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in ’t You chose her; then I’d shriek, that even your ears Should rift® to hear me; and the words that follow’d Should be, “ Remember mine.” Leon. Stars, stars, And all eyes else dead coals !—fear thou no wife ; Dll have no wife, Paulina. Paul. Will you swear Never to marry but by my free leave ? Leon. Never, Paulina ; so be bless’d my spirit! Paul. Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath. Cleo. You tempt him over-much. Paul. Unless another, As like Hermione as is her picture, Affront? his eye. Cleo. Good madam,— Paul. I have done.® Yet, if my lord will marry,—if you will, sir, No remedy, but you will,—give me the office To choose you a queen: she shall ‘not be so young As was your former; but she shall be such As, walk’d your first queen’s ghost, it should take joy To see her in your arms. Leon. My true Paulina, We shall not marry till thou bidd’st us. Paul. That Shall be when your first queen’s again in breath; Never till then. Enter a Gentleman. Gent. One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, with his princess (she The fairest I have yet beheld), desires access To your high presence. Leon. What with him ? he comes not Like to his father’s greatness: his approach, So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us *Tis not a visitation fram’d, but fore’d By need and accident. What train ? Gent. But few, And those but mean. ; Leon. His princess, say you, with him ? giving that impression to the hearers of the whole sentence. This kind of construction is not without example, and in this very play. See Note 75, Act i. (4) She had just cause. The printer of the First Folio inserts ‘such’ after “just;” probably from the word having caught his eye from the line above. (5) Incense. Used here for ‘ instigate,’ ‘incite.’ (6) Rift. Sometimes, as here, used where now ‘rive’ would be used ; meaning ‘split,’ ‘ burst,’ * break.’ (7) Affront. Used for ‘confront,’ ‘ meet.’ (8) I have done. These words, in the Folio, form the conclusion. of Cleomenes’ previous speech. Capell made the transposition. ee 704 THE WINTER'S TALE. Gent. Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, That e’er the sun shone bright on. Paul. O Hermione, As every present time doth boast itself Above a better gone, so must thy grave® Give way to what’s seen now! Sir, you yourself Have said and writ so! (but your writing now Is colder than that theme), “‘She had not been, Nor was not to be equall’d ;”—thus your verse Flow’d with her beauty once: ’tis shrewdly ebb’d, To say you have seen a better. Gent. Pardon, madam : The one I have almost forgot (your pardon) ; The other, when she has obtain’d your eye, Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal Of all professors else ; make proselytes Of who she but bid follow." Paul. How! not women ? Gent. "Women will love her, that she is a woman More worth than any man; men, that she is The rarest of all women. Leon. Go, Cleomenes ; Yourself, assisted with your honour’d friends, Bring them to our embracement.— [Ezeunt Ciuomenss, Lords, and Gentleman. Still, ’tis strange He thus should steal upon us. Paul. Had our prince (Jewel of children) seen this hour, he had pair’d Well with this lord: there was not full a month Between their births. Leon. Pr’ythee,no more; cease; thou know’st He dies to me again when talk’d of: sure, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that which may Unfurnish me of reason.—They are come.— Re-enter Crzomenes and others, with Fuorizen and PERDITA. Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince ; For she did print your royal father off, Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one, Your father’s image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother, As I did him; and speak of something wildly By us perform’d before. Most dearly welcome ! And your fair princess,—goddess !—Oh, alas ! I lost a couple, that ’*twixt heaven and earth Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as You, gracious couple, do! and then I lost (All mine own folly) the society, (9) Grave. This word, on the authority of a note in Lord Elles- mere’s folio copy, has been changed in some editions to ‘ grace;’ but there are many reasons why the original should be preserved. It forms a corresponding image with the previous phrase, “the most peerless piece of earth;” it affords befitting antecedent to “colder than that theme;’’ and it has fine poetic propriety in itself, as embodying the collective beauties of the supposed dead queen in her “ grave,’”’ and impressing upon Paulina’s hearers the point of which she wishes them to be convinced—that Hermione’s remains repose in the “ grave.” (10) Said and writ so. The “so” here relates to what follows the parenthesis. (11) Of who she but did follow. “Who” instead of ‘whom’ was a grammatical licence then permitted. See Note 14, Act iv., “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” (12) Once more to look on him. “On him” has been altered here [Act V. Amity, too, of your brave father, whom, Though bearing misery, I desire my life Once more to look on him.” Flo. By his command Have I here touch’d Sicilia, and from him Give you all greetings, that a king, at friend,’ Can send his brother: and, but infirmity (Which waits upon worn times) hath something seiz’d His wish’d ability, he had himself The lands and waters ’twixt your throne and his Measur’d to look upon you; whom he loves (He bade me say so) more than all the sceptres,“ And those that bear them, living. Leon. Oh, my brother ! (Good gentleman), the wrongs I have done thee stir Afresh within me; and these thy offices, So rarely kind, are as interpreters Of my behind-hand slackness !—Welcome hither, As is the spring to th’ earth. And hath he, too, Expos’d this paragon to the fearful usage (At least ungentle) of the dreadful Neptune, To greet a man not worth her pains, much less Th’ adventure of her person ? Flo. Good my lord, She came from Libya. Leon. Where the warlike Smalus, That noble honour’d lord, is fear’d and lov’d ? Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter His tears proclaim’d his, parting with her, thence _ (A prosperous south wind friendly) we have cross’d, To execute the charge my father gave me, For visiting your highness: my best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss’d ; Who for Bohemia bend, to signify Not only my success in Libya, sir, But my arrival, and my wife’s, in safety Here where we are. Leon. The blesséd gods Purge all infection from our air whilst you Do climate here! You have a holy father, A graceful gent’enan ; against whose person, So sacred as it is, I have done sin: For which the heavens, taking angry note, Have left me issueless; and your father’s bless’d (As he from heaven merits it) with you, Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, Might I a son and daughter now have look’d on, Such goodly things as you! Enter a Lord. Lord. Most noble sir, to upon,’ in order to avoid the redundancy of “him” in the same sentence with “whom;”’ but we have other instances of pleonastic construction in Shakespeare, which was not then considered a defect in style. See Note 83, Act ii., “As You Like It.” (13) At friend. An idiomatic expression, meaning ‘at amity,’ “on terms of friendship.’ Shakespeare elsewhere has a somewhat similar idiom, “to friend;” which will be noticed and explained when it occurs. (14) The sceptres. The way in which Shakespeare poetically impersonates “ sceptres”” here, as royal rulers, yet veils the imper- sonation by the words “those that bear them,” is noticeable as ee a specimen of his peculiar construction and ingenuities of style. (15) You have a holy father, a graceful gentleman. “Holy” is used for ‘virtuous,’ ‘righteous’—see Note 10, Act v., “Tempest;” “‘ oraceful,”’ for ‘full of grace and graciousness.’ Scene IT] That which I shast report will bear no credit, Were not the proof.so nigh. Please you, great sir, Bohemia greets you from himself by me ; Desires you to attach his son, who has (His dignity and duty both cast off) Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with A shepherd’s daughter. Leon. Where’s Bohemia? speak. Lord. Here in your city; I now came from him: T speak amazedly ; and it becomes My marvel and my message. To your court Whiles he was hastening (in the chase, it seems, Of this fair couple), meets he on the way The father of this seeming lady, and Her brother, having both their country quitted With this young prince. Flo. Camillo has betray’d me; Whose honour and whose honesty, till now, Endur’d all weathers. Lord. Lay ’t so to his charge He’s with the king your father. Leon. Who? Camillo? Lord. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now Has these poor men in question. Never saw I Wretches so quake; they kneel, they kiss the earth ; Forswear themselves as often as they speak : Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them With divers deaths in death. Per. Oh, my poor father !” The heaven sets spies upon us, and will not have Our contract celebrated. Leon. You are married ? Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first :— The odds for high and low’s alike.” Leon. My lord, Ts this the daughter of a king? Flo. She is, When once she is my wife. Leon. That once,! I see by your good father’s speed, Will come on very slowly. Iam sorry, Most sorry, you have broken from his liking, Where you were tied in duty ; and as sorry Your choice is not so rich in worth” as beauty, That you might well enjoy her. Flo. Dear, look up: (16) In question. ‘In conversation,’ ‘in course of examination.’ (17) Oh, my poor father! This exclamation, the first words uttered by Perdita in the present scene, serves to show her beau- tiful nature. She has stood silent while the prince gives his version of their flight, taking no part in the fluent fabrications which he pours forth as a necessary consequence of their disguise (see Note 38, Act iii., “ All’s Well’’); and now her first expressed emotion is one of tenderness for the only father she has known, immediately followed by a sentence that shows she feels how little the clan- destine course they have pursued, together with the falsehoods it involves, are likely to be blessed by Heaven’s sanctioning their union. (18) The odds for high and low ’s alike. A phrase borrowed from playing at dice; one of the names for which, when false, was “high and low.” See Note 51, Acti., “ Merry Wives.” The phrase is here used figuratively ; meaning, the chance is as bad for us now that we appear in the character of prince and princess, as when we were shepherd and shepherdess. ; (19) When once she is my wife. That once, &c. This passage serves to show the word “ once” used in the sense of some special time in- definitely stated, some particular period left undecided. See Note 39, Act ii., “ Merry Wives.” (20) Worth. Shakespeare uses this word with large diversity of 89 THE WINTER'S TALE. 7103 Though Fortune, visible an enemy,” Should chase us, with my father, power no jot Hath she to change our loves.—Beseech you, sir, Remember since you owed no more to time” Than I do now: with thought of such affections,” Step forth mine advocate ; at your request My father will grant precious things as trifles. Leon. Would he do so, I’'d beg your precious mistress, Which he counts but a trifle. Paul. Sir, my liege,” Your eye hath too much youth in *t: nota month *Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes Than what you look on now. Leon. I thought of her, Even in these looks I made.*—[To Frorizex.] But _ your petition Is yet unanswer’d. I will to your father: Your honour not o’erthrown by your desires, I am friend to them and you: upon which errand I now go toward him ; therefore, follow me, And mark what way I make: come, good my lord. | Hxeunt. SCENE I1.—Srcr1a. Before the palace of LEonvEs. Enter Avrotycus and a Gentleman. Aut. Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation ? First Gent. Iwas by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; only this, methought I heard the shepherd say he found the child. Aut. T would most gladly know the issue of it. First Gent. I make a broken delivery of the business ;—but the changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed; a notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say if the importance were joy signification; and here he employs it for ‘rank,’ ‘ wealth,’ ‘ worldly position or estimation.’ ¥ 2% (21) Visible an enemy. Used for ‘appearing as a visible enemy,’ or ‘appearing visibly as an enemy. See Note 157, Act iv. (22) Remember since you owed no more to time, fe. “ Since”’ is peculiarly used in this sentence, to express ‘the period when,’ ‘the epoch at which;’ the entire sentence meaning— Remember when you were no older than I am now.’ (23) With. thought of such affections. This phrase, as employed here, affords a striking example of Shakespeare’s elliptical style ; “ such affections” involving the sense of ‘such youthful affections as then glowed within you.’ (24) Sir, my liege. A similar form of address to the one explained in Note 81, Acti., and Note 57, Act iv. (25) I thought of her, even in these looks I made. This answer of Leontes, instinct with tender memory of his wife and mysterious attraction towards his unknown daughter, excited by view of that face bearing likeness to the mother’s, is not only perfect Shakes- peare in hallowed sentiment, but it serves to show his supreme skill in taking a story, and besides purifying it of its grossnesses, superadding refinements and beauties wholly new; for the original counterpart of the plot at this juncture is in revolting contrast with Shakespeare’s delicacy in its management. > nw 706 or sorrow,” but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be.—Here comes a gentleman that happilv knows more. Enter another Gentleman. The news, Rogero? Sec. Gent. Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the king’s daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour, that ballad- makers cannot be able to express it.”7—Here comes the Lady Paulina’s steward: he can deliver you more. Enter a third Gentleman. How goes it now, sir? this news, which is called true, is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king found his heir? Third Gent. Most true, if ever truth were preg- nant* by circumstance : that which you hear youll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of Queen Hermione ; her jewel about the neck of it; the letters of Antigonus, found with it, which they know to be his character; the majesty of the creature,” in resemblance of the mother; the affec- tion®® of nobleness, which nature shows above her breeding ; and many other evidences,—proclaim her with all certainty to be the king’s daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings ? Sec. Gent. No. Third Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another, so, and in such manner, that it seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them,—for their joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenance of such distraction, that they were to be known by garment, not by favour.*! Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries, “Oh, thy mother, thy mother!” then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with clipping*® her; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit® of many kings’ reigns. I (26) Could not say if the importance were joy or sorrow. ‘ Import- ance” is here used for ‘import;’ and the meaning of the whole sentence—‘ could not have said whether the quality of the passion that agitated them were that of joy or sorrow.’ (27) Ballad-makers cannot be able, &c. Alluding to the custom that prevailed in Shakespeare’s time of turning into ballads all extra- ordinary occurrences. See Note 113, Act iv. (28) Pregnant. ‘Full of self-evident fact.’ See Note 6, Act ii., “ Measure for Measure.”’ (29) The majesty of the creature. ‘‘ Creature,” here, besides its usual English acceptation, is employed somewhat in the way in which the Italians use their word creatura, for ‘ offspring,’ ‘ child.’ (30) Affection. Here used for innate tendency, propensity, or disposition. See Note 8, Act iv., “‘ Merchant of Venice.” (31) Favour. Countenance, look, aspect, appearance. (32) Clipping. Embracing, folding in the arms. From the Saxon, clippan, to strain closely. ; (33) A weather-bitten conduit. ‘‘ Weather-bitten’’ was changed in the Third Folio to ‘weather-beaten,’ which is the more usual expression; but Shakespeare’s epithet is far more forcible, convey- ing, as it does, that appearance of being gnawed away in patches, which many old pieces of sculpture long exposed to weather present. “Conduits’’ or fountains were formerly often made in shape of a human figure, See Note 19, Act iv., “As You Like It.” (34) Undoes description to do it. “Do” has here been changed to ‘draw’ and to ‘show’ by some emendators; while others have imagined some such word as ‘justice’ to have been omitted by the Folio printer after “‘it.’ But we take the sentence to be one of those where Shakespeare, by the introduction of one word, infers another similar one; and that here “ description”? immediately preceding “‘do” causes the latter to stand for ‘describe,’ while THE WINTER'S 'TALE. [Act V. never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it.*# Sec. Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child ? Third Gent. Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear:* this avouches the shepherd’s son; who has not only his innocence (which seems much) to justify him, but a handkerchief and rings of his,®* that Paulina knows. First Gent. What became of his barque and his followers ? Third Gent. Wrecked the same instant of their master’s death, and in the view of the shepherd: so that all the instruments, which aided to expose the child, were even then lost, when it was found. But, oh! 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: she lifted the princess from the earth ; and so locks her® in embracing, as if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no more be in danger of losing. First Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted. Third Gent. One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for mine eyes(caught the water, though not the fish), was when, at the relation of the queen’s death, with the manner how she came to it (bravely confessed and lamented by the king), how attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an “Alas!” I would fain say, bleed tears,—for I am sure my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there* changed colour ; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world could have seen it, the woe had been universal. First Gent. Are they returned to the court ? Third Gent. No: the princess hearing of her mother’s statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina, —a piece many years in doing, and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano,*® there is a kind of play between the words “‘undoes’’ and “do” maintained by using “do’’ instead of ‘ describe.’ The way in which the latter of the two “its” in this sentence, while referring to “encounter’’ also refers to “description,” affords an example of Shakespeare’s very peculiar constructional style. (35) Torn to pieces with a bear. ‘“‘ With” used for ‘by.’ See Note 73, Act iv., “ Taming of the Shrew.” (36) Rings of his. “ His” here, in Shakespeare’s way of usin a pronoun relatively to a not immediately preceding antecedent, o course refers to ‘ Antigonus,’’ and not to ‘the shepherd’s son.” See Note 36, Acti., ‘Taming of the Shrew.’’ We point out these obvious instances, as they serve to illustrate those which are less so, and to support our interpretation of the latter. (37) And so locks her. Here “locks” in the present tense, after “lifted” in the past tense, affords an instance of Shakespeare’s ee practice when narrating an incident. See Note 172, ct iv. (38) Who was most marble there. ‘“‘ Who” in this sentence is used elliptically for ‘those who’ (see Note 58, Act i., “ All’s Well”); and the whole sentence means—‘ even those who were of the hardest nature ;’ ‘ those least easily penetrated, and susceptible of emotion.’ (39) Julio Romano. The introduction of this compliment to the greatest artist of his time by Shakespeare has been stigmatised as “a strange absurdity’ on the score of anachronism; but “‘ Julio Romano,” taken as a type of artistic excellence, in a play where so many realities are assembled as idealisations, has thorough pro- priety. To those who perceive how the poet can adhere to strictest accuracy where accuracy is needful to art-verity and can also make accuracy subservient to typical truth in productions purely ro- mantic, there is no more violence offered to imaginative credence by assembling together in “'The Winter’s Tale,’’ Apollo’s oracle, an TI] auaas “4 2IP IVY, SMALNIA ,, g41OJINS BY} BaWOdEq BYs ST ase ul Mou ! Jay p,ooM NOA Sunod sva ays Way AA ! puvy imod yuasaid ‘Aen ‘purnvoy ‘SHLNOUT GNV ANOINUAH "NIVMS 49 poavssug A HN 1 ‘NOLSTVY “TON Ic *[ <9 umvaq Scene IIT. ] who, had he himself eternity,” and could put breath into his work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione, that, they Say, one would speak to her, and stand in hope of answer,—thither with all greedi- ness of affection are they gone; and there they in- tend to sup. Sec. Gent. I thought she had some great matter there in hand; for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither, and with our com- pany piece the rejoicing ? First Gent. Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye, some new grace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let’s along. [Exewnt Gentlemen. Aut. Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince ; told him I heard them talk of a fardel, and I know not what: but he at that time, over-fond of the shepherd’s daughter (so he then took her to be), who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather continuing, this mys- tery remained undiscovered. But ’tis all one to me; for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it would not have relished among my other discredits. — Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. Enter Shepherd and Clown. Shep. Come, boy; I am past more children, but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born. Clo. You are well met, sir. You denied* to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes ? say, you see them not, and think me still no gentleman born: you were best say these robes are not gentle- men born: give me the lie, do; and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. Aut. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these four hours. Shep. And so have I, boy. Clo. So you have :—but I was a gentleman born before my father; for the king’s son took me by the hand, and called me brother; and then the two kings called my father brother; and then the prince allusion to Judas Iscariot, an Emperor of Russia, a Puritan who “sings psalms to hornpipes,’’ “one Mistress Tale-Porter,”’ “ Whit- sun-pastorals,’’a baptismal “ bearing-cloth,’”’ Bohemia as a maritime country, Delphos as an island, and Julio Romano as flourishing in times when pagan gods were oracularly consulted, than by con- gregating in a poetical forest lions, goats, serpents, lambs, oaks, olives, palm-trees, osiers, &c., where all these things, each in their several introduction, serve the art-purpose of vividly idealising the subject treated. See Note 16, Acti., “As You Like It.” (40) Eternity. Here, as elsewhere, used by Shakespeare for ‘immortality.’ (41) Removed house. ‘Remote house ate secluded situation.’ See Note 20, Act iv. (42) Denied. Refused. (43) Preposterous. See Note 1, Act iii., “ Taming of the Shrew.” (44) We must be gentle, now we are gentlemen. Tnis speech of the old Shepherd harmonises pleasantly with one he utters previously ; which we discussed in Note 62, Act iii. (45) Franklins. ‘Freeholders ;’ ‘yeomen.’ villains or serfs, but not as gentlemen. (46) A tall fellow of thy hands. A phrase similarly played on ‘house in a retired or They ranked above THE WINTER’S TALE. 707 my brother, and the princess my sister, called my father father ; and so we wept,—and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed. Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. Clo. Ay ; or else ’twere hard luck, being in so preposterous* estate as we are. Aut. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the prince my master, Shep. Pr’ythee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen.** Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life? Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship. Clo. Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. Clo. Not swear it, now Tama gentleman? Let boors and franklins* say it, I’ll swear it. Shep. How if it be false, son? Clo. If it be ne’er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf o: his friend :—and I’ll swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands,“ and that thou will not be drunk; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunk : but Pll swear it; and I would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. Aut. I will prove so, sir, to my power. Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not.—Hark ! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen’s picture.” Come, followus: we'll be thy good masters. [ Exeunt. SCENE ITI.—Srcrnra. Enter Lronves, Porrxenes, Frorizet, Perpira, CamitLo, Pautina, Lords, and Attendants. Leon. Oh, grave and good Paulina, the great comfort That I have had of thee! Paul. What, sovereign sir, I did not well, I meant well. All my services You have paid home: but that you have vouchsaf’d With your crown’d brother, and these your con- tracted A chapel in Pavttna’s house. elsewhere. See Note 60, Act i., “Merry Wives.” “ Tall’ is used partly in its sense of ‘bold,’ ‘stout,’ ‘courageous,’ and partly in allusion to stature; while “of his hands” was an expression equivalent to ‘of his size.’ Autolycus, in his reply, slily takes the phrase in its meaning of ‘active and bold with thy hands,’ as applicable to diligence in thieving, : A : (47) The queen's picture. Here the word “ picture”’ is applied to what has been previously called a “statue.” That which is intended to be understood is one of those pieces of painted sculp- ture which the ancients produced, which art in all ages since has occasionally executed, and which were known in Shakespeare s time, as we find by a passage from one of Ben Jonson’s plays, that stigmatises them as evidences of bad taste :— “ Rut. have her statue cut now in white marble. Sir Moth. And have it painted in most orient colours. Rut. That’s right! all city statues must be painted, Else they be worth naught in their subtle judgments.” : (48) We'll be thy good masters. ‘We'll be thy patrons.’ To ‘ be good lord or good master’ to a person, was an idiomatic phrase for affording eee for being his benefactor. See Note 126, Act ii, * All’s Well.” 708 Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, It is a surplus of your grace, which never My life may last to answer. Leon. O Paulina, We honour you with trouble :—but we came To see the statue of our queen: your gallery Have we pass’d through, not without much content In many singularities ; but we saw not THE WINTER'S TALE. jAcr V. 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. Pol. Oh, not by much. Paul. So much the more our carver’s excel- lence ; li HH i i my i | | i SSS S SN NS IS < r SS SES NS SN ISS = i = T I | 1 > ye = \ \ IN . ) \ i >. " “sie 1 1s - Y), HIN KN . I yy \ \ \ ! Ni) \ oy, Wy) |), i i] / | AN) Hn : —— 3 i | | \ XX ae P= my \ 7 : | ee a ~ Zi, / \e BURGESS; Leontes. Her natural posture !— Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione. That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother. Paul. As she liv’d peerless, So her dead likeness, I do well believe, Excels whatever yet you look’d upon, Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare To see the life as lively mock’d, as ever Still sleep mock’d death: behold; and say ’tis well. [Pautina draws back a curtain, and discovers Hermione standing as a statue. T like your silence,—it the more shows off Your wonder: but yet speak ;—first, you, my liege. Comes it not something near ? Leon. Her natural posture !— Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed (49) Lonely. The Folio misprints this ‘ Louely.’ (50) Makes her as she liv’d now. Elliptically expressed; mean- Act V. Scene ITI. Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her As she liv’d now.” Leon. As now she might have done ; So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my soul. Oh, thus she stood, Even with such life of majesty (warm life, As now it coldly stands), when first I woo’d her ! I am asham’d: does not the stone rebuke me, For being more stone than it? Oh, royal piece, There’s magic in thy majesty ; which has My evils conjur’d to remembrance ; and From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, Standing like stone with thee ! Per. And give me leave . And do not say ’tis superstition, that ing — ‘makes her as she would have looked had she lived now.’ | : | | i } \ 1 ¥ | | ! I) | a iH | Ni ] i NN i Hermione. You gods, look down, And from your sacred vials pour your graces Upon my daughter’s head! Act V. Scene IIL. Scene ITI] I kneel, and then implore her blessing.—Lady, Dear queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss. Paul. Oh, patience ! The statue is but newly fix’d, the colour’s Not dry. Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, So many summers dry: scarce any joy Did ever so long live; no sorrow But lall’d itself much sooner. Pol. Dear my brother,”! Let him that was the cause of this have power To take off so much grief from you as he Will piece up in himself. Paul. Indeed, my lord, If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought you (for the stone is mine), I'd not have show’d it. Leon. Do not draw the curtain. Paul. No longer shall you gaze on’t, lest your fancy May think anon it moves. Leon. Let be, let be.— Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already *— What was he, that did make it ?—See, my lord, Would you not deem it breath’d? and that those veins Did verily bear blood ? Pol. Masterly done : The very life seems warm upon her lip. Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in’t, As we are mock’d with art.*# Paul. Pll draw the curtain :*4 My lord’s almost so far transported, that He’ll think anon it lives. Leon. Oh, 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. Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr’d you: but I could afflict you farther. (51) Dear my brother, A similar form of construction to the one pointed out in Note 15, Act ii, (52) Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already. The pas- sionate eloquence of this abrupt break in Leontes’ speech is lost upon those who suppose the sentence to be a portion of a speech left unfinished by an omitted line, which they attempt to supply. Moreover, its style of diction is in characteristic accordance with that which is given to Leontes throughout—disjointed, and full of sudden starts. See Note 27, Act i. Mr. Staunton avers that “would I were dead,” here is an imprecation, equivalent to ‘would I may die,’ or ‘may I die;’ but though the citations he adduces confirms his assertion that a similar form of phrase was thus used in Shakespeare’s time, and by Shakespeare himself, they do not strictly conform in construction with the present phrase. In the only two other passages where Shakespeare uses the precise phrase. “would I were dead,” it obviously means, ‘I wish that I were dead,’ ‘I desire to die;’ moreover, the “that’’ in the line under consideration makes against the theory of “would I were dead’’ bearing the sense of an imprecation; for when Shakespeare employs this form of sentence, “but” is differently followed, as— “The gods rebuke me, but it is,” &e. (“ Anthony and Cleopatra,” Act v., se. 1); or—“ Oh, day and night, but this is,” &c. (“ Hamlet,” Acti., sc. 5). We take the imperfectly-expressed sentence to imply — Would I were dead with her, but that methinks already she moves and breathes, and lives again to me!’ The whole gist of his brokenly panted-forth speech confirms this view of his mean- ing; he is wholly possessed by the growing conviction that what he looks upon moves, breathes, exists. The very variety of interpreta- tions which have been given to this line by various commentators upon it, form one tribute to its might of significant impression ; it speaks the language of heart-born passion, and awakens heart- response from each person that considers it, in accordance with each person’s individual nature. : THE WINTER'S TALE. uy Leon. 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. Paul. Good my lord, forbear : The ruddiness upon her lip is wet ; You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain ? Leon. No, not these twenty years. Per. So long could | Stand by, a looker-on. Paul. Either forbear, Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you For more amazement. If you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed, descend And take you by the hand: but then you’ll think (Which I protest against) I am assisted By wicked powers. Leon. What you van make her do, I am content to look on: what to speak, I am content to hear; for ’tis as easy To make her speak as move. Paul. 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. Leon. No foot shall stir. Paul. Music, awake her; strike !— [ Music, *Tis time ; descend; be stone no more; approach ; Strike all that look upon with marvel.*7 Come ; Pll fill your grave up: stir; nay, come away; Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Dear life redeems you.—You perceive she stirs : [Hermione comes down from the pedestai. Start not; her actions shall be holy as You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her, Until you see her die again; for then You kill her double.** Nay, present your hand : Proceed : (53) As we are mock’d with art. ‘As we are thus mocked by art.’ Leontes refers to the contradiction in the first clause of his speech :—‘ The immobility of eye proper to a statue seems to have the motion of a living eye, as we are thus beguiled by art. “With ” was often used for ‘ by.’ (54) [Ul draw thecurtain. Paulina’s anxiety on this point serves to manifest her dread lest Hermione’s firmness should fail her during this agitating scene ; while all that she else says helps fend eally to lead Leontes towards the fact that his wife indeed ves. (55) With oily painting. This, and the words “fine chisel’? in the previous speech, are calculated to keep well before our mind the point of a coloured statue being intended ; and although it has been said that Shakespeare erred in making Julio Romano a sculp- tor, when he was, in fact, a painter, yet those who know how even to this day Italian ornamentation combines the two branches of art, can well believe that the poet was correct in representing the artist as executing a work requiring this twofold accomplishment. That such painted sculpture was in familiar use in England at the period when Shakespeare wrote, we have notable evidence in his own monumental bust at Stratford-upon-Avon ; which was, accord- ing to Britton’s account, “formed out of a block of soft stone, and originally painted in imitation of nature; the hands and face flesh colour, the eyes of a light hazel, the hair and beard auburn, the doublet or coat scarlet, and covered with a loose black gown or tabard without sleeves,” &e. y P (56) Or those that think. The Folio prints ‘on’ here for “or;” Hanmer’s correction. (57) Strike all that look wpon with marvel. Shakespeare occa- sionally uses “look upon”? unaccompanied by a following noun; in the sense of ‘look on,’ or ‘ enact the looker-on.’ (58) Yow kill her double. The adjective “double’’ used adver- bially for ‘ doubly.’ THE WINTER’S TALE. 712 When she was young, you woo’d her; now in age Is she become the suitor.- Leon. [Embracing her.] Oh, she’s warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating. Pol. She embraces him.°9 Cam. She hangs about his neck : If she pertain to life, let her speak too. Pol. Ay, and make ’t manifest where she has liv’d, Or how stolen from the dead. Paul. That she is living, Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old tale: but it appears she lives, Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while.— Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel, And pray your mother’s blessing.—Turn, good lady ; Our Perdita is found. [Presenting Prrpita, who kneels to HerMIonnr, Her. You gods, look down, And from your sacred vials pour your graces Upon my daughter’s head !—Tell me, mine own, Where hast thou been preserv’d? where liv’d? how found Thy father’s court? for thou shalt hear that L— Knowing by Paulina that the oracle Gave hope thou wast in being,—have preserv’d Myself, to see the issue. Paul. There’s time enough for that ; Lest they desire, upon this push,” to trouble (59) She embraces him. Finely has Shakespeare depicted the incident of Hermione’s return to life, and to her husband’s arms, accompanying it solely by words put into the mouth of third persons, and by not one from herself. That she was not the woman to speak on such an occasion, that her heart was suffocating with unutterable emotions, that after her sixteen years’ self-imposed silence, she was incapable of other than mute testimony of recon- ciliation, the poet has made us feel and made us see. He knew, and caused Paulina to know, that the right method of touching her heart into the relief of words was to present to her her new-found daughter. The fact of her having been able to preserve her statue immobility when Perdita first knelt before her, is one of the strongest evidences of Hermione’s almost superhuman firmness of soul; in any other woman it would have been next to un- natural, in her it is strictly characteristic: and the circumstance of her first uttered sentence being one of pious appeal is as perfectly so. (60) Push. Shakespeare uses this word here, and elsewhere, for ‘emergency,’ ‘special occasion.’ | Acr V. Your joys with like relation.—Go together, You precious winners" all; your exultation Partake to every one.” I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither’d bough, and there My mate, that’s never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. Leon. Oh, peace, Paulina ! Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I by thine a wife: this is a match, And made between’s by vows. Thou hast found mine ; But how, is to be question’d,—for I saw her, As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far (For him, I partly know his mind) to find thee An honourable husband.—Come, Camillo, . And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty ® Is richly noted, and here justified By us, a pair of kings.—Let’s from this place.— What! look upon my brother :®—both your pardons, That e’er I put between your holy looks My ill suspicion —This your son-in-law, And son unto the king, whom heavens directing, Is troth-plight to your daughter.—Good Paulina, Lead us from hence ; where we may leisurely Hach one demand, and answer to his part Perform’d in this wide gap of time, since first We were dissever’d: hastily lead away. [ Exeunt. (61) You precious winners. ‘You who have gained what is so precious to you all.’ (62) Partake to every one. among you.’ (63) Whose worth and honesty. In Shakespeare’s way of making a relatively-used pronoun refer to a not immediately preceding an- tecedent, ‘‘ whose”’ here refers to “ Camillo,” and not to “ her.”’ (64) Justified. Here used for ‘testified,’ ‘ borne witness to,’ “avouched,’ (65) What! look upon my brother. How exquisitely this serves to depict the sensitively averted face of Hermione from Polixenes, recollecting all the misconstruction that had formerly grown out of her purely gracious attentions to him ; and also how sufficingly it shows the sincere repentance of Leontes for bygone errors, that he has had sixteen years to mourn and sce in their true light. No one better than Shakespeare knew the nobleness of a candid avowal of previous mistake; the relief of heart to its speaker; the elevated satisfaction to its hearers; and with this crowning satisfaction he leaves us at the close of this grandly beautiful play. “Participate with each other;’ ‘share ie ef" ON . ROW ys NASK \ RO / > RON 2 . 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