Full text of "The plays of William Shakespeare; in twenty-one volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators, to which are added notes"

See other formats

vfflM 


-^ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SOUTHERN    BRANCH 

UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 
LIBRARY 

LOS  ANGELES,  CAUF, 


I 


I 


to** 


• 


# 


* 


*   41 


THE 


PLAYS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE 


VOLUME  THE  EIGHTH. 


Priuted  by  T.  Davison,  Whitefriari. 


THE 


PLAYS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE 


VOLUME  THE  EIGHTH. 


CONTAINING 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  J.  Nichols  and  Son ;  F.  C.  and  J.  Rivington ;  J.  Stockdale 
W.  Lowndes;    G.  Wilkie  and  J.  Robinson;  T.  Egerton;  J.  Walker 
Scatcherd  and  Letterman ;  W.  Clarke  and  Sons ;  J.  Barker ;  J.  Cuthell 
R.  Lea;  Lackington  and  Co. ;  J.  Deighton ;  J.  White  and  Co. ;  B.  Crosby 
and  Co. ;  W.  Earle ;  J.  Gray  and  Son ;  Longman  and  Co. ;  Cadell  and 
Davies;  J.  Harding;  R.  H.  Evans;  J.  Booker;  S.  Bagster;  J. Mawman; 
Black  and  Co.;    J.  Black;    J.  Richardson;    J.  Booth;    Newman  and 
Co.;   R.  Pheney;    R.  Scholey;  J.  Murray;    J.  Asperne;   J.  Faultier; 
R.  Baldwin;  Cradock  and  Joy;   Sharps  and  Hailes;   Johnson  and  Co.; 
Gale  and  Co. ;  G.  Robinson ;  C.  Brown ;  and  Wilson  and  Son,  York. 


30341 


VR. 

m,  i 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.* 


YOL.  VIII. 


■ 


' 


*  As  you  like  it,]  Was  certainly  borrowed,  if  we  be- 
lieve Dr.  Grey  and  Mr.  Upton,  from  the  Coke's  Tale  of  Gamely  n  ; 
which  by  the  way  was  not  printed  till  a  century  afterward : 
when  in  truth  the  old  bard,  who  was  no  hunter  of  MSS.  con- 
tented himself  solely  with  Lodge' s  Rosalynd,  or  Euphues'  Golden 
Legacye,  4to.  1590.     Farmer. 

Shakspeare  has  followed  Lodge's  novel  more  exactly  than  is 
his  general  custom  when  he  is  indebted  to  such  worthless  origi- 
nals ;  and  has  sketched  some  of  his  principal  characters,  and 
borrowed  a  few  expressions  from  it.  His  imitations,  &c.  how- 
ever, are  in  general  too  insignificant  to  merit  transcription. 

It  should  be  observed,  that  the  characters  of  Jaques,  the 
Clown,  and  Audrey,  are  entirely  of  the  poet's  own  formation. 

Although  I  have  never  met  with  any  edition  of  this  comedy 
before  the  year  1623,  it  is  evident,  that  such  a  publication  was 
at  least  designed.  At  the  beginning  of  the  second  volume  of  the 
entries  at  Stationers'  Hall,  are  placed  two  leaves  of  irregular 
prohibitions,  notes,  &c.  Among  these  are  the  following : 
Aug.  4. 

"  As  you  like  it,  a  book 1 

"  Henry  the  Fift,  a  book.       ...      J-  to  be  staid." 
"  The  Comedy  of  Much  Ado,  a  book.  J 
The  dates  scattered  over  these  plays  are  from  1596  to  1615. 

Steevens. 

This  comedy,  I  believe,  was  written  in  1600.  See  An  At- 
tempt to  ascertain  the  Order  qf  Shakspeare' s  Plays,  Vol.  II. 

Malone. 


B  2 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Duke,  living  in  Exile. 

Frederick,  Brother  to  the  Duke,  and  Usurper  of 

his  Dominions. 
Amiens,  1  Lords  attending  upon  the  Duke  in  his 

»>  5 


Jaques,    3  Banishment. 

Le  Beau,  a  Courtier  attending  upon  Frederick. 

Charles,  his  Wrestler. 

Oliver,     "J 

Jaques,    >  Sons  of  Sir  Rowland  de  Bois. 

Orlando,  j 

Deng's,  }    Servants  t0  01iver' 

Touchstone,  a  Clown. 

Sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  a  Vicar. 

SyTviu'sJ    Shepherds. 

William,  a  Country  Fellow,  in  love  with  Audrey. 

A  Person  representing  Hymen. 

Rosalind,  Daughter  to  the  banished  Duke. 
Celia,  Daughter  to  Frederick. 
Phebe,  a  Sliepherdess. 
Audrey,  a  Country  Wench. 

Lords  belonging  to  the  two  Dukes ;  Pages,  Fo- 
resters, and  other  Attendants. 

The  SCENE  lies,  first,  near  Oliver's  House  ;  after- 
wards,  partly  in  the 'Usurper's  Court,  and  partly 
in  the  Forest  of  Arden. 

The  list  of  the  persons  being  omitted  in  the  old  editions,  was 
added  by  Mr.  Rowe.    Johnson. 


PR 


21S3 
V,  f 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

An  Orchard,  near  Oliver's  House, 

Enter  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Orl.  As  I  remember,  Adam,  it  was  upon  this 
fashion  bequeathed  me  :  By  will,  but  a  poor  thou- 
sand crowns ;  and,  as  thou  say'st,  charged  my  bro- 
ther, on  his  blessing,  to  breed  me  well : l  and  there 

1  As  I  remember,  Adam,  it  was  upon  this  fashion  bequeathed 
me  :  By  will,  but  a  poor  thousand  crowns  ;  &c]  The  grammar, 
as  well  as  sense,  suffers  cruelly  by  this  reading.  There  are  two 
nominatives  to  the  verb  bequeathed,  and  not  so  much  as  one  to 
the  verb  charged :  and  yet,  to  the  nominative  there  wanted, 
[his  blessing,]  refers.  So  that  the  whole  sentence  is  confused 
and  obscure.  A  very  small  alteration  in  the  reading  and  point- 
ing sets  all  right. — As  I  remember,  Adam,  it  was  upon  this  my 
father  bequeathed  me,  &c.  The  grammar  is  now  rectified,  and 
the  sense  also ;  which  is  this.  Orlando  and  Adam  were  dis- 
coursing together  on  the  cause  why  the  younger  brother  had 
but  a  thousand  crowns  left  him.  They  agree  upon  it ;  and  Or- 
lando opens  the  scene  in  this  manner — As  I  remember,  it  was 
upon  this,  i.  e.  for  the  reason  we  have  been  talking  of,  that  my 
father  left  me  but  a  thousand  crowns;  however,  to  make 
amends  for  this  scanty  provision,  he  charged  my  brother  on  his 
blessing  to  breed  me  well.     Wahburton. 

There  is,  in  my  opinion,  nothing  but  a  point  misplaced,  and 


6  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

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  properly,  stays  me  here  at  home  un- 
kept : 2  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  feeding,  they  are  taught 
their  manage,  and  to  that  end  riders  dearly  hired : 


an  omission  of  a  word  which  every  hearer  can  supply,  and  which 
therefore  an  abrupt  and  eager  dialogue  naturally  excludes. 

I  read  thus :  As  I  remember,  Adam,  it  was  on  this  fashion 
bequeathed  me.  By  will,  but  a  poor  thousand  crowns ;  and,  as 
thou  sayest,  charged  my  brother,  on  his*  blessing,  to  breed  me 
•well.  What  is  there  in  this  difficult  or  obscure  ?  The  nomi- 
native my  father  is  certainly  left  out,  but  so  left  out  that  the 
auditor  inserts  it,  in  spite  of  himself.    Johnson. 

it  was  on  this  fashion  bequeathed  me,  as  Dr.  Johnson 

reads,  is  but  aukward  English.  I  would  read :  As  I  remember, 
Adam,  it  was  on  this  fashion. — He  bequeathed  me  by  will,  &c. 
Orlando  and  Adam  enter  abruptly  in  the  midst  of  a  conversation 
on  this  topick ;  and  Orlando  is  correcting  some  misapprehension 
of  the  other.  As /remember  (says  he)  it  was  thus.  He  left 
me  a.  thousand  crowns ;  and,  as  thou  sayest,  charged  my  bro- 
ther, &c.     Blackstone. 

Omission  being  of  all  the  errors  of  the  press  the  most  common, 
I  have  adopted  the  emendation  proposed  by  Sir  W.  Blackstone. 

Malone. 

Being  satisfied  with  Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  of  the  passage 
as  it  stands  in  the  old  copy,  I  have  followed  it.     Steevens. 

*  stays  me  here  at  home  unkept  .•]     We  should  read  stys, 

i.  e.  keeps  me  like  a  brute.  The  following  words— for  call  you 
that  keeping — that  differs  not  from  the  stalling  of  an  ox?  con- 
firms this  emendation.     So,  Caliban  says— 

"  And  here  you  sty  me 

"  In  this  hard  rock."     Warburton. 

Sties  is  better  than  stays,  and  more  likely  to  be  Shakspeare's. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  Noah's  Flood,  by  Drayton : 

"  And  sty  themselves  up  in  a  little  room."     Steevens. 


sc  /.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  7 

but  I,  his  brother,  gain  nothing  under  him  but 
growth ;  for  the  which  his  animals  on  his  dung- 
hills are  as  much  bound  to  him  as  I.  Besides  this 
nothing  that  he  so  plentifully  gives  me,  the  some- 
thing that  nature  gave  me,  his  countenance 
seems  to  take  from  me  : 3  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  edu- 
cation. 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. 

Enter  Oliver. 

Adam.  Yonder  comes  my  master,  your  brother. 

Orl.  Go  apart,  Adam,  and  thou  shalt  hear  how 
he  will  shake  me  up. 

Oli.  Now,  sir !  what  make  you  here  ? 4 

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. 


1  his  countenance  seems  to  take  from  me:']     We  should 

certainly  read — his  discountenance.     Warburton. 

There  is  no  need  of  change ;  a  countenance  is  either  good  or 
bad.    Johnson. 

«  fuhnt  make  you  here  f]  i.  e.  what  do  you  here  ?     So, 

in  Hamlet: 

"  What  make  you  at  Elsinour?"     Stbevens. 


8  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

Oll  Marry,  sir,  be  better  employ'd,  and  be 
naught  awhile.5 

*  — i —  be  better  employ'd,  and  be  naught  awhile.]  Mr.  Theo- 
bald has  here  a  very  critical  note ;  which,  though  his  modesty 
suffered  him  to  withdraw  it  from  his  second  edition,  deserves  to 
be  perpetuated,  i.  e.  (says  he)  be  better  employed,  in  my  opinion, 
in  being  and  doing  nothing.  Your  idleness,  as  you  call  it,  may  be 
an  exercise  by  which  you  make  a  figure,  and  endear  yourself  to 
the  world:  and  I  had  rather  you  were  a  contemptible  cypher. 
The  poet  seems  to  me  to  have  that'  trite  proverbial  sentiment  in 
his  eye,  quoted  from  Attilius,  by  the  younger  Pliny  and  others : 
satius  est  otiosum  esse  quam  nihil  agere.  But  Oliver,  in  the 
perverseness  of  his  disposition,  would  reverse  the  doctrine  of  the 
proverb.  Does  the  reader  know  what  all  this  means  ?  But  'tis 
no  matter.  I  will  assure  him — be  nought  a  while  is  only  a 
north-country  proverbial  curse  equivalent  to,  a  mischief  on  you. 
So,  the  old  poet  Skelton : 

"  Correct  first  thy  selfe,  walk  and  be  nought, 
"  Deeme  what  thou  list,  thou  knowest  not  my  thought." 
But  what  the  Oxford  editor  could  not  explain,  he  would  amend, 
and  reads : 

and  do  aught  a  while.     Warburton. 

If  be  nought  awhile  has  the  signification  here  given  it,  the 
reading  may  certainly  stand  ;  but  till  I  learned  its  meaning 
from  this  note,  I  read : 

Be  better  employed,  and  be  naught  a  while. 
In  the  same  sense  as  we  say — It  is  better  to  do  mischief,  than  to 
do  nothing.     Johnson. 

Notwithstanding  Dr.  Warburton's  far-fetched  explanation,  I 
believe  that  the  words  be  naught  awhile,  mean  no  more  than 
this :  "  Be  content  to  be  a  cypher,  till  I  shall  think  fit  to  elevate 
you  into  consequence." 

This  was  certainly  a  proverbial  saying.  I  find  it  in  The  Storie 
of  King  Darius,  an  interlude,  1565: 

"  Come  away,  and  be  nought  a  whyh, 
"  Or  surely  I  will  you  both  defyle." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  FalstafFsays  to  Pistol :  "  Nay, 
if  he  do  nothing  but  speak  nothing,  he  shall  be  nothing  here." 

Steevens. 

Naught  and  nought  are  frequently  confounded  in  old  English 

books.     I  once  thought  that  the  latter  was  here  intended,  in  the 

sense  affixed  to  it  by  Mr.  Steevens :  "  Be  content  to  be  a  cypher, 


sc.  I.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  9 

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.  O,  sir,  very  well:  here  in  your  orchard. 

Oli.  Know  you  before  whom,  sir  ? 

Orl.  Ay,  better  than  he  I  am  before  knows  me.8 
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  bro- 
thers betwixt  us :  I  have  as  much  of  my  father  in 

till  I  shall  elevate  you  into  consequence."  But  the  following 
passage  in  Sxvetnam,  a  comedy,  1620,  induces  me  to  think  that 
the  reading  of  the  old  copy  (naught)  and  Dr.  Johnson's  expla- 
nation are  right : 

" get  you  both  in,  and  be  naught  a  ivhile.''* 

The  speaker  is  a  chamber-maid,  and  she  addresses  herself  to 
her  mistress  and  her  lover.    Malone. 

Malone  says  that  nought  (meaning  nothing)  was  formerly 
spelled  with  an  a,  naught  ;  which  is  clearly  the  manner  in  which 
it  ought  still  to  be  spelled,  as  the  word  aught ,  (any  thing,) 
from  whence  it  is  derived,  is  spelled  so. 

A  similar  expression  occurs  in  Bartholomew  Fairt  where  Ur- 
sula says  to  Mooncalf:  "  Leave  the  bottle  behind  you,  and  be 
curs'd  awhile  ;"  which  seems  to  confirm  Warburton's  explana- 
tion.    M.  Mason. 

•  Ay,  better  than  he  /  am  before  knows  me."\  The  first  folio 
reads — better  than  him — .  But,  little  respect  is  due  to  the 
anomalies  of  the  play-house  editors ;  and  of  this  comedy  there 
is  no  quarto  edition.     Steevens. 

Mr.  Pope  and  the  subsequent  editors  read — he  I  am  before ; 
more  correctly,  but  without  authority.  Our  author  is  equally 
irregular  in  The  Winter'1  s  Tale  : 

"  I  am  appointed  him  to  murder  you."     Malone. 

Of  The  Winter's  Tale  also  there  is  none  but  the  play-house 
copy.     Steevens. 


10  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  acti. 

me,  as  you ;  albeit,  I  confess,  your  coming  before 
me  is  nearer  to  his  reverence.7 

Olj.  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 : 8 1  am  the  youngest  son  of 
sir  Rowland  de  Bois;  he  was  my  father;  and  he  is 
thrice  a  villain,  that  says,  such  a  father  begot  vil- 
lains: Wert  thou  not  my  brother,  I  would  not  take 
this  hand  from  thy  throat,  till  this  other  had  pull- 
ed out  thy  tongue  for  saying  so;  thou  hast  railed 
on  thyself. 

Adam.  Sweet  masters,  be  patient;  for  your  fa- 
ther'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 

7  — —  albeit j  I  confess,  your  coming  before  me  is  nearer  to 
his  reverence.]  This  is  sense  indeed,  and  may  be  thus  under- 
stood.— The  reverence  due  to  my  father  is,  in  some  degree,  de- 
rived to  you,  as  the  first-born.  But  I  am  persuaded  that  Orlando 
did  not  here  mean  to  compliment  his  brother,  or  condemn  him- 
self; something  of  both  which  there  is  in  that  sense.  I  rather 
think  he  intended  a  satirical  reflection  on  his  brother,  who  by 
letting  him  feed  with  his  hinds,  treated  him  as  one  not  so  nearly 
related  to  old  Sir  Rowland  as  himself  was.  I  imagine  therefore 
Shakspeare  might  write — Albeit  your  coming  before  me  is  nearer 
his  revenue,  i.  e.  though  you  are  no  nearer  in  blood,  yet  it  must 
be  owned,  indeed,  you  are  nearer  in  estate.     Warburton. 

This,  I  apprehend,  refers  to  the  courtesy  of  distinguishing 
the  eldest  son  of  a  knight,  by  the  title  of  esquire.     Henley. 

6  I  am  no  villain:]  The  word  villain  is  used  by  the  elder 
brother,  in  its  present  meaning,  for  a  worthless,  wicked,  or 
bloody  man;  by  Orlando,  in  its  original  signification,  for  a  fel- 
low of  base  extraction.    Johnson. 


sc.i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  11 

education :  you  have  trained  me  like  a  peasant,  ob- 
scuring 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 
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. 

On.  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  further  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. 

\_Eoceunt  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Oli.  Is  it  even  so?  begin  you  to  grow  upon  me? 
I  will  physick  your  rankness,  and  yet  give  no  thou- 
sand crowns  neither.     Hola,  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.    [Exit  Dennis.]— 'Twill  be 
a  good  way;  and  to-morrow  the  wrestling  is. 


12  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 


Enter  Charles. 

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  dukej  therefore  he  gives  them  good  leave9 
to  wander. 

Oli.  Can  you  tell,  if  Rosalind,  the  duke's  daugh- 
ter,1 be  banished  with  her  father. 

Cha.  O,  no ;  for  the  duke's  daughter,8  her  cou- 
sin, soloves  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 


9 good  leave  — ]  As  often  as  this  phrase  occurs,  it  means 

a  ready  assent.     So,  in  King  John  : 

"  Bast.  James  Gurney,  wilt  thou  give  us  leave  awhile  ? 
"  Gur.  Good  leave,  good  Philip."     Steevens. 

1  the  duke's  daughter,']  The  words  old  and  new  [inserted 

by  Sir  T.  Hanmer]  seem  necessary  to  the  perspicuity  of  the 
dialogue.     Johnson. 

the  duke's  daughter,]  i.  e.  the  banished  duke's  daughter. 

Malone. 

The  author  of  The  Revisal  is  of  opinion,  that  the  subsequent 
words — her  cousin,  sufficiently  distinguish  the  person  intended. 

Steevens. 

' for  the  duke's  daughter,]  i.  e.  the  usurping  duke's 

daughter.  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads  here — the  new  duke's ;  and  in 
the  preceding  speech — the  old  duke's  daughter;  but  in  my 
opinion  unnecessarily.  The  ambiguous  use  of  the  word  duke 
in  these  passages  is  much  in  our  author's  manner.     Malonb. 


sc.i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  13 

court,  and  no  less  beloved  of  her  uncle  than  his 
own  daughter  j  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,3  and  a  many  merry  men  with  him ;  and 
there  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  un- 
derstand, that  your  younger  brother,  Orlando,  hath 
a  disposition  to  come  in  disguis'd  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. 

3 in  the  forest  of  Arden,]  Ardenne  is  a  forest  of  con- 
siderable extent  in  French  Flanders,  lying  near  the  Meuse,  and 
between  Charlemont  and  Rocroy.  It  is  mentioned  by  Spenser, 
in  his  Colin  ClouVs  come  home  again,  1 595 : 

*'  Into  a  forest  wide  and  waste  he  came, 

"  Where  store  he  heard  to  be  of  savage  prey  ; 

"  So  wide  a  forest,  and  so  waste  as  this, 

"  Not  famous  Ardeyn,  nor  foul  Arlo  is." 
But  our  author  was  furnished  with  the  scene  of  his  play  by 
Lodge's  Novel.    Malone. 


14  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  j. 

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.  I'll  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  con- 
triver 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  trea- 
cherous 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  anato- 
mize 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  ever  he  go  alone  again,  I'll  never  wrestle  for 
prize  more  :  And  so,  God  keep  your  worship ! 

[Exit. 

Oli.  Farewell  good  Charles. — Now  will  I  stir 
this  gamester  : 4 1  hope,  I  shall  see  an  end  of  him ; 
for  my  soul,  yet  I  know  not  why,  hates  nothing 


4  -this  gamester:]  Gamester,  in  the  present  instance, 
and  some  others,  does  not  signify  a  man  viciously  addicted  to 
games  of  chance,  but  a  frolicksome  person.  Thus,  in  King 
Henry  VIII: 

"  You  are  a  merry  gamester,  my  lord  Sands." 

Steevens. 


sc.  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  15 

more  than  he.  Yet  he's  gentle ;  never  school'd, 
and  yet  learned ;  full  of  noble  device ;  of  all  sorts5 
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,6  which  now  I'll  go  about.       [Exit. 


SCENE  II. 


A  Lawn  before  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

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  ? 7 
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  ba- 
nished father,  had  banished  thy  uncle,  the  duke  my 
father,  so  thou  hadst  been  still  with  me,  I  could 

* of  all  sorts  — ]    Sorts,  in  this  place,  means  ranks  and 

degrees  of  men.     Rjtson. 

6 kindle  the  boy  thither,]   A  similar  phrase  occurs  in 

Macbeth,  Act  I.  sc.  iii : 

" enkindle  you  unto  the  crown."     Steevens. 

7 I  xuere  merrier  ?]  I,  which  was  inadvertently  omitted 

in  the  old  copy,  was  inserted  by  Mr.  Pope.    M  alone. 


Iff  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

have  taught  my  love  to  take  thy  father  for  mine ; 
so  would'st  thou,  if  the  truth  of  thy  love  to  me 
were  so  righteously  temper'd  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  like  to  have;  and,  trulv,  when  he  dies, 
thou  shalt  be  his  heir:  for  what  he  nath  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:  therefore,  my  sweet 
Rose,  my  dear  Rose,  be  merry. 

Ros.  From  henceforth  I  will,  coz,  and  devise 
sports  :  let  me  see ;  What  think  you  of  falling  in 
love  ? 

Cel.  Marry, I  pr'ythee,  do,  to  make  sport  withal : 
but  love  no  man  in  good  earnest;  nor  no  further  in 
sport  neither,  than  with  safety  of  a  pure  blush  thou 
may'st  in  honour  come  off  again. 

Ros.  What  shall  be  our  sport  then  ? 

Cel.  Let  us  sit  and  mock  the  good  housewife, 
Fortune,  from  her  wheel,8  that  her  gifts  may  hence- 
forth be  bestowed  equally. 

Ros.  I  would,  we  could  do  so ;  for  her  benefits 


•  ■  ■  1  mock  the  good  housewife.,  Fortune,  from  her  wheel,] 
The  wheel  of  Fortune  is  not  the  "wheel  of  a  housewife.  Shak- 
speare  has  confounded  Fortune,  whose  wheel  only  figures  uncer- 
tainty and  vicissitude,  with  the  destiny  that  spins  the  thread  of 
life,  though  not  indeed  with  a  wheel.    Johnson. 

Shakspeare  is  very  fond  of  this  idea.  He  has  the  same  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra : 

" and  rail  so  high, 

"  That  the  false  housewife,  Fortune,  break  her  wheal." 

Stbbvbns. 


sc.  it.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  17 

are  mightily  misplaced :  and  the  bountiful  blind 
woman  dotn  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-favour' dly. 

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. 

Enter  Touchstone. 

Cel.  No?  When  nature  hath  made  a  fair  crea- 
ture, may  she  not  by  fortune  fall  into  the  fire  ? — 
Though  nature  hath  given  us  wit  to  flout  at  for- 
tune, hath  not  fortune  sent  in  this  fool  to  cut  off 
the  argument  ? 

Ros.  Indeed,  there  is  fortune  too  hard  for  na- 
ture ;  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 
wits  too  dull  to  reason  of  such  goddesses,  hath 
sent  this  natural  for  our  whetstone:9  for  always 
the  dulness  of  the  fool  is  the  whetstone  of  his 
wits. — How  now,  wit?  whither  wander  you? 

Touch.  Mistress,  you  must  come  away  to  your 
father.  v 

Cel.  Were  you  made  the  messenger  ? 
Touch.  No,  by  mine  honour ;  but  I  was  bid  to 
come  for  you. 

9  uho  perceiving  our  natural  toits  too  duU  to  reason  oj 

such  goddesses,  hath  sent  &c]  The  old  copy  reads — "  per- 
ceivetn  — ."  Mr.  Malone  retains  the  old  reading,  but  adds — 
"  and  hath  sent,"  &c.     Steevens. 

VOL.  VIII.  C 


id  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  u 

JRos.  Where  learned  you  that  oath,  fool  ? 

Touch.  Of  a  certain  knight,  that  swore  by  his 
honour  they  were  good  pancakes,  and  swore  by  his 
honour  the  mustard  was  naught:  now,  I'll  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  pan- 
cakes or  that  mustard. 

Cel.  Pr'ythee,  who  is't  that  thou  mean'st  ? 

Touch. One  that  oldFrederick, your  father,loves. 

Cel.  My  father's  love  is  enough  to  honour  him.1 

1  Touch.  One  that  old  Frederick,  your  father,  loves. 
Cel.  My  father's  love  is  enough  to  honour  him.']  This  repfy 
to  the  Clown  is  in  all  the  books  placed  to  Rosalind  ;  but  Frede- 
rick was  not  her  father,  but  Celia's  :  I  have  therefore  ventured 
to  prefix  the  name  of  Celia.  There  is  no  countenance  from  any 
passage  in  this  play,  or  from  the  Dramatis  Persona,  to  imagine, 
that  both  the  Brother-Dukes  were  namesakes  ;  and  one  called 
the  Old,  and  the  other  the  Younger-Frederick  ;  and  without 
some  such  authority,  it  would  make  confusion  to  suppose  it. 

Theobald. 

Mr.  Theobald  seems  not  to  know  that  the  Dramatis  Persona 
were  first  enumerated  by  Rowe.    Johnson. 

Frederick  is  here  clearly  a  mistake,  as  appears  by  the  answer 
of  Rosalind,  to  whom  Touchstone  addresses  himself,  though  the 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  19 

Enough  !  speak  no  more  of  him  ;  you'll  be  whip'd 
for  taxation,2  one  of  these  days. 

Touch.  The  more  pity,  that  fools  may  not  speak 
wisely,  what  wise  men  do  foolishly. 

Cel.  By  my  troth,  thou  say'st  true:  for  since  the 
little  wit,  that  fools  have,  was  silenced,3  the  little 

question  was  put  to  him  by  Celia.  I  suppose  some  abbreviation 
was  used  in  the  MS.  for  the  name  of  the  rightful,  or  old  duke, 
as  he  is  called,  [perhaps  Fer.  for  Ferdinand,]  which  the  tran- 
scriber or  printer  converted  into  Frederick.  Fernardyne  is  one 
of  the  persons  introduced  in  the  novel  on  which  this  comedy  is 
founded.  Mr.  Theobald  solves  the  difficult)'  by  giving  the  next 
speech  to  Celia,  instead  of  Rosalind ;  but  there  is  too  much  of 
filial  warmth  in  it  for  Celia : — besides,  why  should  her  father  be 
called  old  Frederick  ?  It  appears  from  the  last  scene  of  this  play 
that  this  was  the  name  of  the  younger  brother.     Malone. 

Mr.  Malone's  remark  may  be  just ;  and  yet  I  think  the  speech 
which  is  still  left  in  the  mouth  of  Celia,  exhibits  as  much  ten- 
derness for  the  fool,  as  respect  for  her  own  father.  She  stops 
Touchstone,  who  might  otherwise  have  proceeded  to  say  what 
she  could  not  hear  without  inflicting  punishment  on  the  speaker. 
Old  is  an  unmeaning  term  of  familiarity.  It  is  still  in  use,  and 
has  no  reference  to  age.  The  Duke  in  Measure  for  Measure  is 
called  by  Lucio  "  the  old  fantastical  Duke,"  &c.     Steevens. 

8  you'll  be  whip'd Jbr  taxation,]  This  was  the  discipline 

usually  inflicted  upon  fools.  Brantome  informs  us  that  Legar, 
fool  to  Elizabeth  of  France,  having  offended  her  with  some  in- 
delicate speech,  "Jut  bienfoouette  d  la  cuisine  pour  ces  paroles.'* 
A  representation  of  this  ceremony  may  be  seen  in  a  cut  prefixed 
to  B.  II.  ch.  c.  of  the  German  Petrarch  already  mentioned  in 
Vol.  IV.  p.  359.     Douce. 

Taxation  is  censure,  or  satire.  So,  in  Much  Ado  about  No- 
thing: "  Niece,  you  tax  Signior  Benedick  too  much;  but  he'll 
be  meet  with  you.'*     Again,  in  the  play  before  us : 

**  — —  my  taxing  like  a  wildgoose  flies — ."      Malone. 

*  '  '  -  since  the  little  wit,  that  fools  have,  tuas  silenced,'] 
Shakspeare  probably  alludes  to  the  use  of  fools  or  jesters,  who 
for  some  ages  had  been  allowed  in  all  courts  an  unbridled  li- 
berty of  censure  and  mockery,  and  about  this  time  began  to  be 
less  tolerated.    Johnson. 

c  2 


20  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  /. 

foolery,  that  wise  men  have,  makes  a  great  show. 
Here  comes  Monsieur  Le  Beau. 


Enter  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-cramm'd. 

Cel.  All  the  better ;  we  shall  be  the  more  mar- 
ketable. 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  ? 

Ros.  As  wit  and  fortune  will. 

Touch.  Or  as  the  destinies  decree. 

Cel.  Well  said;  that  was  laid  on  with  a  trowel.4 

Touch.  Nay,  if  I  keep  not  my  rank, 

Ros.  Thou  losest  thy  old  smell. 

4  laid  on  with  a  trowel.]  I  suppose  the  meaning  is,  that 

there  is  too  heavy  amass  of  big  words  laid  upon  a  slight  subject. 

Johnson. 

This  is  a  proverbial  expression,  which  is  generally  used  to 
signify  a  glaring  falshood.     See  Ray's  Proverbs.     Steevens. 

It  means  a  good  round  hit,  thrown  in  without  judgment  or 
design.     Ritson. 

To  lay  on  xuith  a  trowel,  is,  to  do  any  thing  strongly,  and 
without  delicacy.  If  a  man  flatters  grossly,  it  is  a  common 
expression  to  say,  that  he  lays  it  on  with  a  trowel.    M..  Mason. 


sc.  m  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  21 

Le  Beau.  You  amaze  me,  ladies:5  I  would 
have  told  you  of  good  wrestling,  which  you  have 
lost  the  sight  of. 

Ros.  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  endj  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  Beau.  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  excel- 
lent growth  and  presence ; 

Ros.  With  bills  on  their  necks, — Be  it  known 
unto  all  men  by  these  presents,* 

s  You  amaze  me,  ladies  .•]  To  amaze,  here,  is  not  to  astonish 
or  strike  with  wonder,  but  to  perplex  ;  to  confuse,  so  as  to  put 
out  of  the  intended  narrative.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Cymbeline,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii. 

"  I  am  amazed  with  matter."     Steevens. 

6  With  bills  on  their  necks, — Be  it  known  unto  all  men  by 
these  presents,']  The  ladies  and  the  fool,  according  to  the  mode 
of  wit  at  that  time,  are  at  a  kind  of  cross  purposes.  Where  the 
words  of  one  speaker  are  wrested  by  another,  in  a  repartee,  to 
a  different  meaning.  As  where  the  Clown  says  just  before — 
Nay,  if  I  keep  not  my  rank.  Rosalind  replies — Thou  losest  thy 
old  smell.  So  here  when  Rosalind  had  said—  With  bills  on  their 
necks,  the  Clown,  to  be  quits  with  her,  puts  in — Know  all  men 
by  these  presents.  She  spoke  of  an  instrument  of  war,  and  he 
turns  it  to  an  instrument  of  law  of  the  same  name,  beginning 
with  these  words :  So  that  they  must  be  given  to  him. 

Warburton. 

This  conjecture  is  ingenious.   Where  meaning  is  so  very  thin, 


22  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

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 

as  in  this  vein  of  jocularity,  it  is  hard  to  catch,  and  therefore  I 
know  not  well  what  to  determine ;  but  I  cannot  see  why  Rosa- 
lind should  suppose,  that  the  competitors  in  a  wrestling  match 
carried  bills  on  their  shoulders,  and  I  believe  the  whole  conceit 
is  in  the  poor  resemblance  of  presence  and  presents.    Johnson. 

With  bills  on  their  necks,  should  be  the  conclusion  of  Le 
Beau's  speech.  Mr.  Edwards  ridicules  Dr.  Warburton,  "  As  if 
people  carried  such  instruments  of  war,  as  bills  and  guns  on 
their  necks,  not  on  their  shoulders .'"  But  unluckily  the  ridicule 
falls  upon  himself.  Lassels,  in  his  Voyage  of  Italy,  says  of  tu- 
tors, "  Some  persuade  their  pupils,  that  it  is  fine  carrying  a  gun 
upon  their  necks."  But  what  is  still  more,  the  expression  is 
taken  immediately  from  Lodge,  who  furnished  our  author  with 
his  plot.  "  Ganimede  on  a  day  sitting  with  Aliena,  (the  assumed 
names,  as  in  the  play,)  cast  up  her  eye,  and  saw  where  Rosader 
came  pacing  towards  them  with  his  forest-bill  on  his  necke." 

Farmer. 

The  quibble  may  be  countenanced  by  the  following  passage 
in  Woman  s  a  Weathercock,  1612 : 

"  Good-morrow,   taylor,  I  abhor  bills  in  a  morning — 

"  But  thou  may'st  watch  at  night  with  bill  in  hand." 
Again,  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,   Book  I  : 

" with  a  sword  by  his  side,  a  forest-bille  on  his 

necke,""  &c. 
Again,  in  Rowley's  When  you  see  me  you  knotv  me,  1621  : 

"  Enter  King,  and  Compton,  with  bills  on  his  back.,f 
Again,  in  The  Pinner  qf>  Wakefield,  ]  599  : 

"  And  each  of  you  a  good  bat  on  his  neck.'* 
Again :  • 

" are  you  not  big  enough  to  bear 

"  Your  bats  upon  your  necks  r'     Steevens. 

I  don't  think  that  by  bill  is  meant  either  an  instrument  of 
war,  or  one  of  law,  but  merely  a  label  or  advertisement — as  we 
say  a  play-bill,  a  hand-bill ;  unless  Farmer's  ingenious  amend- 
ment be  admitted,  and  these  words  become  part  of  Le  Beau's 
speech ;  in  which  case  the  word  bill  would  be  used  by  him  to 
denote  a  weapon,  and  by  Rosalind  perverted  to  mean  a  label. 

M.  Mason. 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  23 

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. 

JRos.  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  dayi  it 
is  the  first  time  that  ever  I  heard,  breaking  of  ribs 
was  sport  for  ladies. 

Cel.  Or  I,  I  promise  thee. 

JRos.  But  is  there  any  else  longs  to  see  this  broken 
musick  in  his  sides  ? 7  is  there  yet  another  dotes 


7 is  there  any  else  longs  to  see  this  broken  musick  in  his 

sides?]  A  stupid  error  in  the  copies.  They  are  talking  here  of 
some  who  had  their  ribs  broke  in  wrestling:  and  the  pleasantry 
of  Rosalind's  repartee  must  consist  in  the  allusion  she  makes  to 
composing  in  musick.  It  necessarily  follows,  therefore,  that  the 
poet  wrote — set  this  broken  musick  in  his  sides. 

Warburton. 

If  any  change  were  necessary,  I  should  write,  feel  this  broken 
musick,  for  see.  But  see  is  the  colloquial  term  for  perception  or 
experiment.  So  we  say  every  day ;  see  if  the  water  be  hot ;  I 
will  see  which  is  the  best  time  ;  she  has  tried,  and  sees  that  she 
cannot  lift  it.  In  this  sense  see  may  be  here  used.  The  sufferer 
can,  with  no  propriety,  be  said  to  set  the  musick ;  neither  is  the 
allusion  to  the  act  of  tuning  an  instrument,  or  pricking  a  tune, 
one  of  which  must  be  meant  by  setting  musick.  Rosalind  hints 
at  a  whimsical  similitude  between  the  series  of  ribs  gradually 
shortening,  and  some  musical  instruments,  and  therefore  calls 
broken  ribs,  broken  musick.     Johnson. 

This  probably  alludes  to  the  pipe  of  Pan,  which  consisting  of 
reeds  of  unequal  length,  and  gradually  lessening,  bore  some  re- 
semblance to  the  ribs  of  a  man.     M.  Mason. 

Broken  musick  either  means  the  noise  which  the  breaking  of 
ribs  would  occasion,  or  the  hollow  sound  which  proceeds  from 
a  person's  receiving  a  violent  fall.     Douce. 


24  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  /. 

upon  rib-breaking  ? — Shall  we  see  this  wrestling, 
cousin  ? 

Le  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  Duke  Frederick,  Lords,  Or- 
lando, Charles,  and  Attendants. 

Duke  F.  Come  on  ;  since  the  youth  will  not  be 
entreated,  his  own  peril  on  his  forwardness. 

Ros.  Is  yonder  the  man  ? 

Le  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  ? 

Ros.  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  :8  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. 

I  can  offer  no  legitimate  explanation  of  this  passage,  but  may 
observe  that  another,  somewhat  parallel,  occurs  in  A'.  Henry  V: 
"  Come,  your  answer  in  broken  musick;  for  thy  voice  is  musick, 
and  thy  English  broken."     Steevens. 

8 odds  in  the  men :]  Sir  T.  Hanmer.   In  the  old  editions, 

the  man.    Johnson. 


sc.  it.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  25. 

Duke  F.  Do  so  ;  I'll  not  be  by. 

[Duke  goes  apart. 

Le  Beau.  Monsieur  the  challenger,  the  prin- 
cesses call  for  you.9 

Orl.  I  attend  them,  with  all  respect  and  duty. 

Ros.  Young  man,  have  you  challenged  Charles 
the  wrestler  ? l 

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,2  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  at- 
tempt. 

Ros.  Do,  young  sir  j  your  reputation  shall  not 

9 the  princesses  call  for  you.]   The  old  copy  reads — the 

princesse  calls.     Corrected  by  Mr.  Theobald.     Malone. 

1  have   you    challenged    Charles    the    •wrestler?]     This 

wrestling  match  is  minutely  described  in  Lodge's  Rosalynde, 
1592.     Malone. 

* if  you  saw  yourself  with  your  eyes,  or  knew  yourself 

•with  your  judgment,]  Absurd !  The  sense  requires  that  we 
should  read, — our  eyes,  and — our  judgment.  The  argument  is, 
Your  spirits  are  too  bold,  and  therefore  your  judgment  deceives 
you  ;  hut  did  you  see  and  know  yourself  with  our  more  impartial 
judgment,  you  would  forbear.     Warburton. 

I  cannot  find  the  absurdity  of  the  present  reading.  If  you 
were  not  blinded  and  intoxicated,  says  the  princess,  with  the  spirit 
of  enterprise,  if  you  could  use  your  own  eyes  to  see,  or  your  own 
judgment  to  know  yourself,  the  fear  qf  your  adventure  would 
counsel  you.    Johnson. 


26  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

therefore  be  misprised :  we  will  make  it  our  suit 
to  the  duke,  that  the  wrestling  might  not  go  for- 
ward. 

Orl.  I  beseech  you,  punish  me  not  with  your 
hard  thoughts ;  wherein  I  confess  me  much  guilty, 
to  deny  so  fair  and  excellent  ladies  any  thing.3  But 
let  your  fair  eyes,  and  gentle  wishes,  go  with  me  to 
my  trial : 4  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 
no  injury,  for  in  it  I  have  nothing ;  only  in  the 
world  I  fill  up  a  place,  which  may  be  better  sup- 
plied when  I  have  made  it  empty. 


*  /  beseech  you,  punish  me  not  &c]  I  should  wish  to  read,  / 
beseech  you,  punish  me  not  with  your  hard  thoughts.  Therein  / 
confess  myself  much  guilty  to  deny  sojair  and  excellent  ladies  any 
thing.    Johnson. 

As  the  word  wherein  must  always  refer  to  something  pre- 
ceding, I  have  no  doubt  but  there  is  an  error  in  this  passage, 
and  that  we  ought  to  read  herein,  instead  of  wherein.  The 
hard  thoughts  that  he  complains  of  are  the  apprehensions  ex- 
pressed by  the  ladies  of  his  not  being  able  to  contend  with  the 
wrestler.  He  beseeches  that  they  will  not  punish  him  with 
them ;  and  then  adds,  "  Herein  I  confess  me  much  guilty  to 
deny  so  fair  and  excellent  ladies  any  thing.  But  let  your  fair 
eyes  and  gentle  wishes  go  with  me  to  my  trial."     M.  Mason. 

The  meaning  I  think  is,  "  punish  me  not  with  your  unfa- 
vourable opinion  (of  my  abilities);  which,  however,  I  confess , 
/  deserve  to  incur,  for  denying  such  fair  ladies  any  request.'* 
The  expression  is  licentious,  but  our  author's  plays  furnish  many 
such.     Malone. 

4  — —  let  your  gentle  wishes,  go  with  me  to  my  trial  .•]  Addison 
might  have  had  this  passage  in  his  memory,  when  he  put  the 
following  words  into  Juba's  mouth: 

*■' Marcia,  may  I  hope 

"  That  thy  kind  wishes  follow  me  to  battle  ?" 

Steevens. 


sc.  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  27 

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 
persuaded  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. 

[Charles  and  Orlando  "wrestle. 

Ros.  O  excellent  young  man  ! 

Cel.  If  I  had  a  thunderbolt  in  mine  eye,  I  can 
tell  who  should  down. 

[Charles  is  thrown.     Shout. 

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.  [Charles  is  borne  out."] 
What  is  thy  name,  young  man  ? 


28  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

Orl.  Orlando,  my  liege ;  the  youngest  son  of 
sir  Rowland  de  Bois. 

Duke  F.  I  would,  thou  hadstbeen  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. 

\Excunt  Duke  Fred.  Train,  and  Le  Beau. 

Cel.  Were  I  my  father,  coz,  would  I  do  this  ? 

Orl.  I  am  more  proud  to  be  sir  Rowland's  son, 
His  youngest  son  ; ' — and  would  not  change  that 

calling,6 
To  be  adopted  heir  to  Frederick. 

Ros.  My  father  lov'd  sir  Rowland  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, 

*  His  youngest  son;~\  The  words  "  than  to  be  descended 
from  any  other  house,  however  high,"  must  be  understood. 
Orlando  is  replying  to  the  duke,  who  is  just  gone  out,  and  had 
eaid — 

u  Thou  should'st  have  better  pleas'd  me  with  this  deed, 
"  Hadst  thou  descended  from  another  house."  Maloni:. 

6  that  calling,]  i.  e.  appellation;  a  very  unusual,  if  not 

unprecedented  sense  of  the  word.    Steeveks. 


sc.  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  29 

But  justly,  as  you  have  exceeded  promise,7 
Your  mistress  shall  be  happy. 

Ros.  Gentleman, 

[Giving  him  a  chain  from  her  neck. 
Wear  this  for  me  ;  one  out  of  suits  with  fortune  ; 8 
That  could  give  more,  but  that  her  hand  lacks 

means. — 
Shall  we  go,  coz  ? 

Cel.  Ay : — Fare  you  well,  fair  gentleman. 

Orl.  Can  I  not  say,  I  thank  you  ?     My  better 

parts 
Are  all  thrown  down ;  and  that  which  here  stands 

up, 
Is  but  a  quintain,  a  mere  lifeless  block.* 

7  as  you  have  exceeded  promise,]   The  old  copy,  without 

regard  to  the  measure,  reads — all  promise.     Steevens. 

E  one  out  of  suits  with  fortune  ;]     This  seems  an  allusion 

to  cards  where  he  that  has  no  more  cards  to  play  of  any  par- 
ticular sort,  is  out  of  suit.    Johnson. 

Out  of  suits  with  fortune,  I  believe,  means,  turned  out  of  her 
service,  and  stripped  of  her  livery.     Steevens. 

So  afterwards  Celia  says,  "  — but  turning  these  jests  out  of 
service,  let  us  talk  in  good  earnest."     Malone. 

9  Is  but  a  quintain,  a  mere  lifeless  block.']  A  quintain  was 
a  post  or  butt  set  up  for  several  kinds  of  martial  exercises,  against 
which  they  threw  their  darts  and  exercised  their  arms.  The 
allusion  is  beautiful.  /  am,  says  Orlando,  only  a  quintain,  a 
lifeless  block  on  which  love  only  exercises  his  arms  in  jest ;  the 
great  disparity  of  condition  between  Rosalind  and  me,  not  suf- 
fering me  to  hope  that  love  will  ever  make  a  serious  matter  of  it. 
The  famous  satirist  Regnier,  who  lived  about  the  time  of  our 
author,  uses  the  same  metaphor,  on  the  same  subject,  though 
the  thought  be  different : 

"  Et  qui  depuis  dix  ansjusqu'en  ses  derniers  jours, 

"  A  soutenu  le  prix  en  I'escrime  dy amours; 

"  Lasse  en  Jin  de  servir  au  peuple  de  quintaine, 

"  Elle"  &c.     Warburton. 

This  is  but  an  imperfect  (to  call  it  no  worse)  explanation  of 
a  beautiful  passage.    The  quintain  was  not  the  object  of  the 


30  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

Hos.  He  calls  us  back :  My  pride  fell  with  my 
fortunes : 
I'll  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. 

[Exeunt  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Orl.  What  passion  hangs  these  weights  upon 
my  tongue  ? 
I  cannot  speak  to  her,  yet  she  urg'd  conference. 

darts  and  arms :  it  was  a  stake  driven  into  a  field,  upon  which 
were  hung  a  shield  and  other  trophies  of  war,  at  which  they 
shot,  darted,  or  rode,  with  a  lance.  When  the  shield  and  the 
trophies  were  all  thrown  down,  the  quintain  remained.  With- 
out this  information  how  could  the  reader  understand  the  allu- 
sion of — 

My  better  parts 

Are  all  thrown  down?    Guthrie. 

Mr.  Malone  has  disputed  the  propriety  of  Mr.  Guthrie's  ani- 
madversions ;  and  Mr.  Douce  is  equally  dissatisfied  with  those 
of  Mr.  Malone. 

The  phalanx  of  our  auxiliaries,  as  well  as  their  circumstan- 
tiality, is  so  much  increased,  that  we  are  often  led  (as  Hamlet 
observes)  to 

" fight  for  a  spot 

"  Whereon  the  numbers  cannot  try  the  cause." 

The  present  strictures,  therefore,  of  Mr.  Malone  and  Mr. 
Douce,  (which  are  too  valuable  to  be  omitted,  and  too  ample  to 
find  their  place  under  the  text  of  our  author,)  must  appear  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  play.     Steevens. 

For  a  more  particular  description  of  a  quintain,  see  a  note  on 
a  passage  in  Jonson's  Underwoods,  Whalley's  edit.  Vol.  VII. 
p.  55.    M.  Mason. 

A  humorous  description  of  this  amusement  may  also  be  read 
in  Laneham's  Letter  from  "  Killingwoorth  Castle."     Henley. 


m  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  31 


Re-enter  Le  Beau. 

O  poor  Orlando !  thou  art  overthrown ; 

Or  Charles,  or  something  weaker,  masters  thee. 

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,1 
That  he  misconstrues  all  that  you  have  done. 
The  duke  is  humorous ;  what  he  is,  indeed, 
More  suits  you  to  conceive,  than  me  to  speak  of.2 

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  ? 

Le  Beau.  Neither  his  daughter,  if  we  judge  by 
manners ; 
But  yet,  indeed,  the  shorter3  is  his  daughter : 


1  the  duke's   condition,]    The   word  condition  means 

character,  temper,  disposition.     So,  Antonio,  the  merchant  of 
Venice,  is  called  by  his  friend  the  best  conditioned  man. 

Johnson. 

*  than  me  to  speak  of.]    The  old  copy  has — than  /. 

Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.    Malone. 

1  the  shorter  — ]  Thus  Mr.  Pope.  The  old  copy  reads — 

the  taller.     Mr.  Malone — the  smaller.     Steevens. 

Some  change  is  absolutely  necessary,  for  Rosalind,  in  a  sub- 
sequent scene,  expressly  says  that  she  is  "  more  than  common 
tall"  and  assigns  that  as  a  reason  for  her  assuming  the  dress  of 
a  man,  while  her  cousin  Celia  retained  her  female  apparel. 
Again,  in  Act  IV.  sc.  iii.  Celia  is  described  by  these  words— 
"  the  woman  low,  and  browner  than  her  brother ;"  i.  e,  Rosa- 
lind. Mr.  Pope  reads — "the  shorter  is  his  daughter ;"  which 
has  been  admitted  in  all  the  subsequent  editions:  but  surely 


32  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  r. 

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,4 

I  shall  desire  more  love  and  knowledge  of  you. 

Orl.  I  rest  much  bounden  to  you :  fare  you  well! 

[Exit  Le  Beau. 
Thus  must  I  from  the  smoke  into  the  smother ; 
From  tyrant  duke,  unto  a  tyrant  brother : — 
But  heavenly  Rosalind !  [Exit. 

shorter  and  taller  could  never  have  been  confounded  by  either 
the  eye  or  the  ear.  The  present  emendation,  it  is  hoped,  has 
a  preferable  claim  to  a  place  in  the  text,  as  being  much  nearer 
to  the  corrupted  reading.     Malone. 

Shakspeare  sometimes  speaks  of  little  women,  but  I  do  not 
recollect  that  he,  or  any  other  writer,  has  mentioned  small 
ones.  Otherwise,  Mr.  Malone's  conjecture  should  have  found 
a  place  in  our  text.     Steevens. 

*  in   a   better  world  than    this,']      So,   in    Coriolanus, 

Act  III.  sc.  iii:  "  There  is  a  world  elsewhere."     Steevens. 


fie  ///.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  33 

SCENE  III. 

A  Room  in  the  Palace, 

Enter  Celia  and  Rosalind. 

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  for  my  child's  father : 5  O, 
how  full  of  briars  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. 

*  for  my  child's  father:}  i.  e.  for  him  whom  I  hope  to 

marry,  and  have  children  by.    Theobald. 

VOL.  VIII.  D 


34  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

Ros.  O,  they  take  the  part  of  a  better  wrestler 
than  myself. 

Cel.  O,  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  Rowland's  youngest  son? 

Ros.  The  duke  my  father  lov'd  his  father  dearly. 

Cel.  Dotli  it  therefore  ensue,  that  you  should 
love  his  son  dearly?  By  this  kind  of  chase,6 1  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?7 

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. 

•  By  this  hind  of  chase,]  That  is,  by  this  way  of  following 
the  argument.  Dear  is  used  by  Shakspeare  in  a  double  sense 
for  beloved,  and  for  hurtful,  hated,  baleful.  Both  senses  are 
authorised,  and  both  drawn  from  etymology  ;  but  properly, 
beloved  is  dear,  and  hateful  is  dere.  Rosalind  uses  dearly  in  the 
good,  and  Celia  in  the  bad  sense.    Johnson. 

7  Why  should  I  not?  doth  he  not  deserve  ivellf]  Celia  an- 
swers Rosalind,  ( who  had  desired  her  "  not  to  hate  Orlando,  for 
her  sake,")  as  if  she  had  said — "  love  him,  for  my  sake:"  to 
which  the  former  replies,  "  Why  should  I  not  [i.  e.  love  him]  ?n 
So,  in  the  following  passage,  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

" Which  of  the  peers 

"  Have  uncontemn'd  gone  by  him,  or  at  least 
"  Strangely  neglected?" 
Uncontemn'd  must  be  understood  as  if  the  author  had  written — 
not  contem'd;  otherwise  the  subsequent  words  would  convey 
a  meaning  directly  contrary  to  what  the  speaker  intends. 

Malone. 


sc.  m.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  35 


Enter  Duke  Frederick,  with  Lords. 

Duke  F.    Mistress,    despatch  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  publick  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  intelligence, 
Or  have  acquaintance  with  mine  own  desires ; 
If  that  I  do  not  dream,  or  be  not  frantick, 
(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  : 
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. 

d  2 


36.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  Acr  i. 

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 ; 8 
I  was  too  young  that  time  to  value  her, 
But  now  I  know  her :  if  she  be  a  traitor, 
Why  so  am  I ;  we  still  have  slept  together, 
Rose  at  an  instant,  learn'd,  play'd,  eat  together  j* 
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  or  thy  name  ; 
And  thou  wilt  show  more  bright,  and  seem  more 

virtuous,1 
When  she  is  gone  :  then  open  not  thy  lips  ; 
Firm  and  irrevocable  is  my  doom 
Which  I  have  pass'd  upon  her ;  she  is  banish'd. 

Cel.  Pronounce  that  sentence  then  on  me,  my 
liege; 
I  cannot  live  out  of  her  company. 

• remorse ;1  i.  e.  compassion.     So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  Stop  the  access  and  passage  to  remorse."     Steevens. 

9  we  still  have  slept  together ', 

Rose  at  an  instant,  learn' d,  play'd,  eat  together ;~\  Youthful 
friendship  is  described  in  nearly  the  same  terras  in  a  book  pub- 
lished the  year  in  which  this  play  first  appeared  in  print  :— 
"  They  ever  went  together,  plaid  together,  eate  together,  and 
usually  slept  together,  out  of  the  great  love  that  was  between 
them."  Life  of  Guzman  de  Alfarache,  folio,  printed  by  Edward 
Blount,  1623,  P.  I.  B.  I.  c.  viii.  p.  75.     Reed. 

1  And  thou  ivilt  show  more  bright,  and  seem  more  virtuous,] 
When  she  was  seen  alone,  she  would  be  more  noted. 

Johnson. 


sc.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  37 

Di  :e  F.  You  are  a  fool : — You,  niece,  provide 
yourself; 
If  you  out-stay  the  time,  upon  mine  honour, 
And  in  the  greatness  of. my  word,  you  die. 

[Exeunt  Duke  Frederick  and  Lords. 

Cel.  O  my  poor  Rosalind!  whither  wilt  thou  go ? 
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  ; 2 

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 : 3 
Shall  we  be  sunder'd?  shall  we  part,  sweet  girl? 
No ;  let  my  father  seek  another  heir. 
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,4 

*  Thou  hast  not,  cousin ;]  Some  word  is  wanting  to  the 
metre.     Perhaps  our  author  wrote : 

Indeed  thou  hast  not,  cousin.     Steevens. 

3  Rosalind  lacks  then  the  love 

Which  teacheth  thee  that  thou  and  I  am  one .-]  The  poet 
certainly  wrote — which  teacheth  me.  For  if  Rosalind  had  learnt 
to  think  Celia  one  part  of  herself,  she  could  not  lack  that  love 
which  Celia  complains  she  does.     Warburton. 

Either  reading  may  stand.  The  sense  of  the  established  text 
is  not  remote  or  obscure.  Where  would  be  the  absurdity  of 
saying,  You  know  not  the  law  which  teaches  you  to  do  right  ? 

Johnson. 

4  — —  to  take  your  change  upon  you,~]  i.  e.  to  take  your 
change  or  reverse  of  fortune  upon  yourself,  without  any  aid  or 
participation.     Malone. 


s»  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i. 

To  bear  your  griefs  yourself,  and  leave  me  out ; 
For,  by  this  heaven,  now  at  our  sorrows  pale, 
Say  what  thou  canst,  I'll  go  along  with  thee. 

Ros.  Why,  whither  shall  we  go  ? 

Cel.  To  seek  my  uncle.* 

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.  I'll  put  myself  in  poor  and  mean  attire, 
And  with  a  kind  of  umber  smirch  my  face;6 
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-ax7  upon  my  thigh, 
A  boar-spear  in  my  hand;  and  (in  my  heart 
Lie  there  what  hidden  woman's  fear  there  will,) 
We'll  have  a  swashing8  and  a  martial  outside; 
. 

I  have  inserted  this  note,  but  without  implicit  confidence  in 
the  reading  it  explains.     The  second  folio  has — charge. 

Steevens. 

4  To  seek  my  uncle.]  Here  the  old  copy  adds — in  the  forest 
of  Arden.  But  these  words  are  an  evident  interpolation,  with- 
out use,  and  injurious  to  the  measure : 

Why,  whither  shall  toe  go  ?—To  seek  my  uncle, 
being  a  complete  verse.  Besides,  we  have  been  already  informed 
by  Charles  the  wrestler,  that  the  banished  Duke's  residence  was 
in  the  forest  of  Arden.     Steevens. 

6  And  "with  a  kind  of  umber  smirch  my  face ;]  Umber  is 
a  dusky  yellow-coloured  earth,  brought  from  Umbria.  in  Italy. 
See  a  note  on  "  the  umber 'd  fires,"  in  King  Henry  V.  Act  III. 

Malone. 

7 curtle-ax — ]     Or  cutlace,  a  broad  sword.    Johnson. 

•  We'll  have  a  swashing  &c]  A  swashing  outside  is  an 
appearance  of  noisy,  bullying  valour.     Swashing  blow  is  men- 


ft*  ///.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  39 

As  many  other  mannish  cowards  have, 
That  do  outface  it  with  their  semblances. 

Cel.  What  shall  I  call  thee,  when  thou  art  a 
man? 

Bos.  I'll  have  no  worse  a  name  than  Jove's  own 

And  therefore  look'you  call  me,  Ganymede. 
But  what  will  you  be  calPd? 

Cel.  Somethingthat  hath  a  reference  tomystate  j 
No  longer  Celia,  but  Aliena. 

Bos.  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  j 
Devise  the  fittest  time,  and  safest  way 
To  hide  us  from  pursuit  that  will  be  made 
After  my  flight:  Now  go  we  in  content,9 
To  liberty,  and  not  to  banishment.  [Exeunt 

tioned  in  Romeo  and  Juliet ;  and,  in  King  Henry  V.  the  Boy 
says : — "  As  young  as  I  am,  I  have  observed  these  three 
sivashers  >    meaning  Nym,  Pistol,  and  Bardolph.     Steevens. 

9  Novo  go  we  in  content,']     The  old  copy  reads — Now 

go  in  toe  content.  Corrected  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 
I  am  not  sure  that  the  transposition  is  necessary.  Our  author 
might  have  used  content  as  an  adjective.    Malone. 


40  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  it. 


ACT   II.     SCENE   1. 


The  Forest  of  Arden. 

Enter  Duke  senior,  Amiens,  and  other  Lords,  in 
the  dress  of  Foreste?*s, 

Duke  S.  Now,  my  co-mates,  and  brothers  in 
exile, 
Hath  not  old  custom  made  this  life  more  sweet 
Than  that  of  painted  pomp  ?  Are  not  these  woods 
More  free  from  peril  than  the  envious  court  ? 
Here  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam,1 
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, — 
This  is  no  flattery:  these  are  counsellors 
That  feelingly  persuade  me  what  I  am. 

1  Here  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam^\  The  old  copy 
reads — "  not  the  penalty — ."     Steevens. 

What  was  the  penalty  of  Adam,  hinted  at  by  our  poet  ?  The 
being  sensible  of  the  difference  of  the  seasons  ?  The  Duke  says, 
the  cold  and  effects  of  the  winter  feelingly  persuade  him  what 
he  is.  How  does  he  not  then  feel  the  penalty  ?  Doubtless,  the 
text  must  be  restored  as  I  have  corrected ;  and  it  is  obvious,  in 
the  course  of  these  notes,  how  often  not  and  but,  by  mistake, 
have  changed  place  in  our  author's  former  editions. 

Theobald. 

As  not  has  here  taken  the  place  of  but,  so,  in  Coriolanus> 
Act  II.  sc.  iii.  but  is  printed  instead  of  not  : 
"  Cor.  Ay,  but  mine  own  desire. 
"  1  Cit.  How !  not  your  own  desire."    Malone. 


sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  41 

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  publick  haunt, 

*  Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous. 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head:~\  It  was  the  cur- 
rent opinion  in  Shakspeare's  time,  that  in  the  head  of  an  old 
toad  was  to  be  found  a  stone,  or  pearl,  to  which  great  virtues 
were  ascribed.  This  stone  has  been  often  sought,  but  nothing 
has  been  found  more  than  accidental  or  perhaps  morbid  indura- 
tions of  the  skull.    Johnson. 

In  a  book  called  A  Green  Forest,  or  a  Natural  History,  &c. 
by  John  Maplett,  1567,  is  the  following  account  of  this  imagi- 
nary gem :  "  In  this  stone  is  apparently  seene  verie  often 
the  verie  forme  of  a  tode,  with  despotted  and  coloured  feete, 
but  those  uglye  and  defusedly.  It  is  available  against  enve- 
noming.'' 

Again,  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Monsieur  Thomas,  1639: 

N in  most  physicians'  heads, 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  toadstone  bred." 
Again,  in  Adrasta,  or  The  Woman's  Spleen,  1635 : 
"  Do  not  then  forget  the  stone 
"  In  the  toad,  nor  serpent's  bone,"  &c. 

Pliny,  in  the  32d  Book  of  his  Natural  History,  ascribes  many 
wonderful  qualities  to  a  bone  found  in  the  right  side  of  a  toad, 
but  makes  no  mention  of  any  gem  in  its  head.  This  deficiency 
however  is  abundantly  supplied  by  Edward  Fenton,  in  his 
Secrete  Wonders  of  Nature,  4<to.  bl.  1.  1569,  who  says,  "  That 
there  is  founde  in  the  heades  of  old  and  great  toades,  a  stone 
which  they  call  Borax  or  Stelon:  it  is  most  commonly  founde  in 
the  head  of  a  bee  toad,  of  power  to  repulse  poysons,  and  that  it 
is  a  most  soveraigne  medicine  for  the  stone." 

Thomas  Lupton,  in  his  First  Booke  of  Notable  Things,  4-to. 
bl.  1.  bears  repeated  testimony  to  the  virtues  of  the  "  Tode-stone, 
called  Crapaudina."  In  his  Seventh  Booke  he  instructs  us  how 
to  procure  it ;  and  afterwards  tells  us — "  You  shall  knowe  whe- 
ther the  Tode-stone  be  the  ryght  and  perfect  stone  or  not. 
Holde  the  stone  before  a  Tode,  so  that  he  may  see  it ;  and  if  it 
be  a  ryght  and  true  stone,  the  Tode  will  leape  towarde  it,  and 
make  as  though  he  would  snatch  it.  He  envieth  so  much  that 
man  should  have  that  stone."     Stebvens. 


42  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks,3 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing. 

Ami,  I  would  not  change  it : 4  Happy  is  your 
grace, 
That  can  translate  the  stubbornness  of  fortune 
Into  so  quiet  and  so  sweet  a  style. 

Duke  S.  Come,  shall  we  go  and  kill  us  venison? 
And  yet  it  irks  me,  the  poor  dappled  fools, — 
Being  native  burghers  of  this  desert  city,5 — 
Should,  in  their  own  confines,  with  forked  heads6 
Have  their  round  haunches  gor'd. 

1  Lord.  Indeed,  my  lord, 

The  melancholy  Jaques  grieves  at  that ; 
And,  in  that  kind,  swears  you  do  more  usurp 
Than  doth  your  brother  that  hath  banish'd  you. 

3  Finds  tongues  in  trees,  &c.~]  So,  in  Sidney's  Arcadia, 
Book  I: 

"  Thus  both  trees  and  each  thing  else,  be  the  bookes  to  a 
fancied     Steevens. 

'  K  I  would  not  change  it:"]  Mr.  Upton,  not  without  probabi- 
lity, gives  these  words  to  the  Duke,  and  makes  Amiens  begin — 
Happy  is  your  grace.     Johnson. 

a  native  burghers  of  this  desert  city,']  In  Sidney's  Ar- 
cadia, the  deer  are  called  "  the  wild  burgesses  of  the  forest." 
Again,  in  the  18th  Song  of  Drayton's  Potuolbion; 

"  Where,  fearless  of  the  hunt,  the  hart  securely  stood, 
"  And  every  where  walk'd  free,  a  burgess  of  the  wood." 

Steevens. 

A  kindred  expression  is  found  in  Lodge's  Rosalynde,  1592: 
"  About  her  wond'ring  stood 
"  The  citizens  o'  the  wood." 
Our  author  afterwards  uses  this  very  phrase : 

"  Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greasy  citizens"     Malone. 

6  with  forked  heads  — ]  i.  e.  with  arrows,  the  points  of 

which  were  barbed.     So,  in  A  mad  World  my  Masters  : 
"  While  the  broad  arrow  with  the  forked  head 
"  Misses,"  &c.    Steevens. 


sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  43 

To-day,  my  lord  of  Amiens,  and  myself, 
Did  steal  behind  him,  as  he  lay  along 
Under  an  oak,  whose  antique  root  peeps  out 
Upon  the  brook -that  brawls  along  this  wood  :T 
To  the  which  place  a  poor  sequester'd  stag, 
That  from  the  hunters'  aim  had  ta'en  a  hurt, 
Did  come  to  languish ;  and,  indeed,  my  lord, 
The  wretched  animal  heav'd  forth  such  groans, 
That  their  discharge  did  stretch  his  leathern  coat 
Almost  to  bursting ;  and  the  big  round  tears 
Cours'd  one  another  down  his  innocent  nose 
In  piteous  chase  :8  and  thus  the  hairy  fool, 
Much  marked  of  the  melancholy  Jaques, 
Stood  on  the  extremest  verge  of  the  swift  brook, 
Augmenting  it  with  tears. 

Duke  S.  But  what  said  Jaques  ? 

Did  he  not  moralize  this  spectacle  ? 

1  Lord.  O,  yes,  into  a  thousand  similes. 
First,  for  his  weeping  in  the  needless  stream  ;■• 
Poor  deer,  quoth  he,  thou  mak'st  a  testament 
As  worldlings  do,  giving  thy  sum  of  more 


7  — —  as  he  lay  along 
Under  an  oak,  &c] 

"  There  at  the  foot  of  yonder  nodding  beech 
"  That  wreathes  its  old  fantastic  roots  so  high, 
"  His  listless  length  at  noon-tide  would  he  stretch, 
•     "  And  pore  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by." 

Gray's  Elegy.     Steevens. 

8 the  big  round  tears  &c]  It  is  said  in  one  of  the  mar- 
ginal notes  to  a  similar  passage  in  the  13th  Song  of  Drayton's 
Polyolbion>  that  "  the  harte  weepeth  at  his  dying :  his  tears  are 
held  to  be  precious  in  medicine/'     Steevens. 

9 in  the  needless  stream ;]    The  stream  that  wanted  not 

such  a  supply  of  moisture.  The  old  copy  has  into,  caught  pro- 
bably by  the  compositor's  eye  from  the  line  above.  The  cor- 
rection was  made  by  Mr.  Pope.    Malone. 


44  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ii. 

To  that  which  had  too  much:1  Then,  being  alone,2 

Left  and  abandon'd  of  his  velvet  friends  ; 

9Tis  right,  quoth  he  ;  tlds  misery  doth  part 

The  flux  of  company:  Anon,  a  careless  herd, 

Full  of  the  pasture,  jumps  along  by  him, 

And  never  stays  to  greet  him ;   Ay,  quoth  Jaques, 

Sweep  o?i,  you  flat  and  greasy  citizens; 

'Tis  just  the  flashion :  Wherefore  do  you  look 

Upon  that  poor  and  broken  bankrupt  there  ? 

Thus  most  invectively  he  pierceth  through 

The  body  of  the  country,3  city,  court, 

1  To  that  which  had  too  much :]  Old  copy — too  must.  Cor- 
rected by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

Shakspeare  has  almost  the  same  thought  in  his  Lover's  Com- 
plaint : 

« in  a  river 

"  Upon  whose  weeping  margin  she  was  set, 
'*  Like  usury,  applying  wet  to  wet." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  III.  Act  V.  sc.  iv: 
"  With  tearful  eyes  add  water  to  the  sea, 
"  And  give  more  strength  to  that  which  hath  too  much." 

Steevens. 

* Then,  being  alone,"]   The  old  copy  redundantly  reads — 

Then  being  there  alone.     Steevens. 

'  The  body  o^the  country, ~\  The  oldest  copy  omits — the;  but 
it  is  supplied  by  the  second  folio,  which  has  many  advantages 
over  the  first.  Mr.  Malone  is  of  a  different  opinion ;  but  let  him 
speak  for  himself.     Steevens. 

Country  is  here  used  as  a  trisyllable.  So  again,  in  Twelfth 
Night  : 

"  The  like  of  him.     Know'st  thou  this  countryV 

The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  who  appears  to  have  been 
utterly  ignorant  of  our  author's  phraseology  and  metre,  reads — 
The  body  of  the  country,  &c.  which  has  been  followed  by  all  the 
subsequent  editors.    Malone. 

Is  not  country  used  elsewhere  also  as  a  dissyllable?  See 
Coriolanus,  Act  I.  sc.  vi : 

"  And  that  his  country's  dearer  than  himself." 
Besides,  by  reading  country  as  a  trisyllable,  in  the  middle  of  a 
verse,  it  would  become  rough  and  dissonant.     Steevens. 


sc.  //.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  45 

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  S.  And  did  you  leave  him  in  this  contem- 
plation ? 

2  Lord.  We  did,  my  lord,  weeping  and  com- 
menting 
Upon  the  sobbing  deer. 

Duke  S.  Show  me  the  place ; 

I  love  to  cope  him4  in  these  sullen  fits, 
For  then  he's  full  of  matter. 

2  Lord.  I'll  bring  you  to  him  straight.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Duke  Frederick,  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. 

1  Lord.  I  cannot  hear  of  any  that  did  see  her. 
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. 

2  Lord.  My  lord,  the  roynish  clown,5  at  whom 

so  oft 

4 to  cope  him  — ]    To  encounter  him ;  to  engage  with 

him.    Johnson. 

* the  roynish  clown,]  Roynish,  from  rogneux,  French, 


46  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ii. 

Your  grace  was  wont  to  laugh,  is  also  missing. 
Hesperia,  the  princess'  gentlewoman, 
Confesses,  that  she  secretly  o'er-heard 
Your  daughter  and  her  cousin  much  commend 
The  parts  and  graces  of  the  wrestler 6 
That  did  but  lately  foil  the  sinewy  Charles ; 
And  she  believes,  wherever  they  are  gone, 
That  youth  is  surely  in  their  company. 

Duke  F.  Send  to  his  brother;7  fetch  that  gallant 
hither ; 
If  he  be  absent,  bring  his  brother  to  me, 
I'll  make  him  find  him  :  do  this  suddenly ; 
And  let  not  search  and  inquisition  quail8 
To  bring  again  these  foolish  runaways.     [Exeunt. 

mangy,  scurvy.   The  word  is  used  by  Chaucer,  in  The  Romaunt 
of the  Rose,  988: 

"  That  knottie  was  and  all  roinous." 
Again,  ibid.  6190: 

"  This  argument  is  all  roignous — ." 
Again,  by  Dr.  Gabriel  Harvey,  in  hiSfPierce's  Supererogation, 
4to.  1593.  Speaking  of  Long  Meg  of  Westminster,  he  says — 
"  Although  she  were  a  lusty  bouncing  rampe,  somewhat  like 
Gallemetta  or  maid  Marian,  yet  she  was  not  such  a  roinish  ran- 
nel,  such  a  dissolute  gillian-flirt,"  &c. 

We  are  not  to  suppose  the  word  is  literally  employed  by 
Shakspeare,  but  in  the  same  sense  that  the  French  still  use 
carogne,  a  term  of  which  Moliere  is  not  very  sparing  in  some 
of  his  pieces.     Steevens. 

6 of  the  wrestler—]  Wrestler,  (as  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  has  ob- 
served in  a  note  on  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,)  is  here  to 
be  sounded  as  a  trisyllable.     Steevens. 

7  Send  to  his  brother ;]  I  believe  we  should  read — brother's. 
For  when  the  Duke  says  in  the  following  words :  "  Fetch  that 
gallant  hither  ;"  he  certainly  means  Orlando.     M.  Mason. 

s quail — ]    To  quail  is  to  faint,  to  sink  into  dejection. 

So,  in  Cymbeline  : 

" which  my  false  spirits 

"  Quail  to  remember."     Steevens. 


sc.  m.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  47 

SCENE  III. 

Before  Oliver's  House. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Adam,  meeting. 

Orl.  Who's  there  ? 

Adam.  What!  my  young  master? — O,  my  gentle 
master, 
O,  my  sweet  master,  O  you  memory 9 
Of  old  sir  Rowland  !  why,  what  make  you  here  ? 
Why  are  you  virtuous  ?  Why  do  people  love  you  ? 
And  wherefore  are  you  gentle,  strong,  and  valiant  ? 
Why  would  you  be  so  fond l  to  overcome 
The  bony  priser 2  of  the  humorous  duke  ? 


9  — —  0  you  memory — ]  Shakspeare  often  uses  memory  for 
memorial;  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  sometimes.  So,  in  The 
Humorous  Lieutenant : 

"  I  knew  then  how  to  seek  j'our  memories." 
Again,  in  The  Atheist's  Tragedy,by  C.  Turner,  1611: 

"  And  with  his  body  place  that  memory 

"  Of  noble  Charlemont." 
Again,  in  Byron's  Tragedy  i 

a  That  statue  will  1  prize  past  all  the  jewels 

"  Within  the  cabinet  of  Beatrice, 

"  The  memory  of  my  grandame."     Steevens. 

1  — —  so  fond  — ]  i.  e.  so  indiscreet,  so  inconsiderate.  So,  in 
The  Merchant  of  Venice: 

" 1  do  wonder, 

"  Thou  naughty  gaoler,  that  thou  art  so  fond 
"  To  come  abroad  with  him ."     Steevens. 

*  The  bony  priser — ]  In  the  former  editions—  The  bonny 
priser.  We  should  read — bony  priser.  For  this  wrestler  is 
characterised  for  his  strength  and  bulk,  not  for  his  gaiety  or 
good  humour.     Warburton. 

So,  Milton : 

*'  Giants  of  mighty  bone."    Johnsok. 


48  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

Your  praise  is  come  too  swiftly  home  before  you. 

Know  you  not,  master,  to  some  kind  of  men 3 

Their  graces  serve  them  but  as  enemies  ? 

No  more  do  yours  ;  your  virtues,  gentle  master, 

Are  sanctified  and  holy  traitors  to  you. 

O,  what  a  world  is  this,  when  what  is  comely 

Envenoms  him  that  bears  it  ? 

Orl.  Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Adam.  O  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,4  this  house  is  but  a  butchery ; 
Abhor  it,  fear  it,  do  not  enter  it. 

So,  in  the  Romance  of  Syr  Degore,  bl.  1.  no  date : 

"  This  is  a  man  all  For  the  nones, 

"  For  he  is  a  man  of  great  bones." 
Bonny,  however,  may  be  the  true  reading.      So,  in  King 
Henry  VI.  P.  II.  Act  V: 

"  Even  of  the  bonny  beast  he  lov'd  so  well."  Steevens. 

The  word  bonny  occurs  more  than  once  in  the  novel  from 
which  this  play  of  As  you  like  it  is  taken.  It  is  likewise  much 
used  by  the  common  people  in  the  northern  counties.  I  believe, 
however,  bony  to  be  the  true  reading.     M alone. 

* to  some  kind  of  men — ]  Old  copy — seeme  kind.  Cor- 
rected by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Ma  lone. 

4  This  is  no  place,]  Place  here  signifies  a  seat,  a  mansion,  a 
residence.  So,  in  the  first  Book  of  Samuel:  "  Saul  set  him  up 
a  place,  and  is  gone  down  to  GilgaL" 


sc.  m.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  49 

Orl.  Why,  whither,  Adam,  wouldst  thou  have 
me  go  ? 

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  subject  me  to  the  malice 
Of  a  diverted  blood,5  and  bloody  brother. 

Adam.  But  do  not  so:    I  have  five  hundred 
crowns, 
The  thrifty  hire  I  sav'd  under  your  father, 

Again,  in  Chaucer's  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales  : 
"  His  wonning  was  ful  fayre  upon  an  heth, 
"  With  grene  trees  yshadewed  was  his  place.''* 
We  still  use  the  word  in  compound  with  another,  as — St. 
James's  place,  Rathbone  place ;   and  Crosby  place,   in   King 
Richard  III.  &c.     Steevens. 

Our  author  uses  this  word  again  in  the  same  sense  in  his 
Lover's  Complaint : 

"  Love  lack'd  a  dwelling,  and  made  him  her  place." 
Plas,  in  the  Welch  language,  signifies  a  mansion-house. 

Ma  LONE. 

Steevens's  explanation  of  this  passage  is  too  refined.  Adam 
means  merely  to  say — "  This  is  noplace  for  you."  M.  Mason. 

*  diverted  blood,']     Blood  turned  out  of  the  course  of 

nature.    Johnson. 

So,  in  our  author's  Lover* s  Complaint : 

"  Sometimes  diverted,  their  poor  balls  are  tied 
"  To  the  orbed  earth — ."     Malone. 

To  divert  a  water-course,  that  is,  to  change  its  course,  was  a 
common  legal  phrase,  and  an  object  of  litigation  in  Westminster 
Hall,  in  our  author's  time,  as  it  is  at  present. 

Again,  in  Ray's  Travels:  "  We  rode  along  the  sea  coast  to 
Ostend,  diverting  at  Nieuport,  to  refresh  ourselves,  and  get  a 
sight  of  the  town  ;"  i.  e.  leaving  our  cpurse.     Reed. 

VOL.  VJII.  E 


,50  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  iu 

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,6 
Be  comfort  to  my  age !  Here  is  the  gold  ; 
All  this  I  give  you:  Let  me  be  your  servant; 
Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty : 
For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 
Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood ; 7 
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  ; 
I'll  do  the  service  of  a  younger  man 
In  all  your  business  and  necessities. 

Orl.  O  good  old  man;  how  well  in  thee  appears 
The  constant  service  of  the  antique  world, 
When  service  sweat  for  duty,  not  for  meed ! 
Thou  art  not  for  the  fashion  of  these  times, 
Where  none  will  sweat,  but  for  promotion  ; 
And  having  that,  do  choke  their  service  up 
Even  with  the  having  : 8  it  is  not  so  with  thee. 

» 

6  — —  and  He  that  doth  the  ravens  feed, 
Yea,  providently  caters  for  the  sparrow,  Sfc."]     See  Saint 
Luke,  xii.  6,  and  24.     Douce. 

7 rebellious   liquors   in   my  blood;"]      That   is,   liquors 

which  inflame  the  blood  or  sensual  passions,  and  incite  them  to 
rebel  against  reason.     So,  in  Othello: 

"  For  there's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here, 
"  That  commonly  rebels."     Malone. 

Perhaps  he  only  means  liquors  that  rebel  against  the  constitu- 
tion.    Steevens. 

■  Even  tvith  the  having :]     Even  with  the  promotion  gained 
by  service  is  service  extinguished.    Johnson. 


sc.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  51 

But,  poor  old  man,  thou  prun'st  a  rotten  tree, 
That  cannot  so  much  as  a  blossom  yield, 
In  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  years9  till  now  almost  fourscore 
Here  lived  I,  but  now  live  here  no  more. 
At  seventeen  years  many  their  fortunes  seek ; 
But  at  fourscore,  it  is  too  late  a  week: 
Yet  fortune  cannot  recompense  me  better, 
Than  to  die  well,  and  not  my  master's  debtor. 

[Exewtt. 

9  From  seventeen  years — ]  The  old  copy  reads — seventy. 
The  correction,  which  is  fully  supported  by  the  context,  was 
made  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 


E  2 


52  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ii. 

SCENE  IV. 

The  Forest  of  Arden. 

Enter  Rosalind  in  boy's  clothes,  Celia  drest  like 
a  Shepherdess,  and  Touchstone. 

Ros.  O  Jupiter !  how  weary  are  my  spirits!1 

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  cannot  go  no 
further. 

1  0  Jupiter !  how  weary  are  my  spirits .']  The  old  copy 
reads — how  merry,  &c.     Steevens. 

And  yet,  within  the  space  of  one  intervening  line,  she  says, 
she  could  find  in  her  heart  to  disgrace  her  man's  apparel,  and 
cry  like  a  woman.  Sure,  this  is  but  a  very  bad  symptom  of  the 
briskness  of  spirits :  rather  a  direct  proof  of  the  contrary  dispo- 
sition. Mr.  Warburton  and  I,  concurred  in  conjecturing  it 
should  be,  as  I  have  reformed  in  the  text : — how  weary  are  my 
spirits!    And  the  Clown's  reply  makes  this  reading  certain. 

Theobald. 

She  invokes  Jupiter,  because  he  was  supposed  to  be  always  in 
good  spirits.  A  jovial  man  was  a  common  phrase  in  our  author's 
time.  One  of  Randolph's  plays  is  called  Aristippus,  or  The 
Jovial  Philosopher ;  and  a  comedy  of  Broome's,  The  Jovial 
Crew,  or  The  Merry  Beggars. 

In  the  original  copy  of  Othello,  4to.  1622,  nearly  the  same 
mistake  has  happened ;  for  there  we  find — 

"  Let  us  be  merry,  let  us  hide  our  joys," 
instead  of — Let  us  be  wary.     Malone. 


sc.  if.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  S3 

Touch.  For  my  part,  I  had  rather  bear  with 
you,  than  bear  you : 2  yet  I  should  bear  no  cross,3 
if  I  did  bear  you ;  for,  I  think,  you  have  no 
money  in  your  purse. 

Ros.  Well,  this  is  the  forest  of  Arden. 

Touch.  Ay,  now  am  I  in  Arden :  the  more  fool 
I ;  when  I  was  at  home,  I  was  in  a  better  place  ; 
but  travellers  must  be  content. 

Ros.  Ay,  be  so,  good  Touchstone : — Look  you, 
who  comes  here;  a  young  man,  and  an  old,  in 
solemn  talk. 

Enter  Corin  and  Silvius. 

Cor.  That  is  the  way  to  make  her  scorn  you 
still. 

Sil.  O  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; 
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. 

Sil.  O,  thou  didst  then  ne'er  love  so  heartily : 

*  '  '  ■ '     I  had  rather  bear  with  you>  than  bear  you:"]     This 
jingle  is  repeated  in  King  Richard  III: 

"  You  mean  to  bear  me,  not  to  bear  with  me." 

Steevens. 

3  yet  I  should  bear  no  cross,]     A  cross  was  a  piece  of 

money  stamped  with  a  cross.     On  this  our  author  is  perpetually 
quibbling.     Steevens. 


*4  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  u. 

If  thou  remember'st  not  the  slightest  folly4 

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  hearer5  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 :  O  Phebe,  Phebe,  Phebe ! 

[Exit  Silvius. 

Ros.  Alas,  poor   shepherd !   searching  of  thy 
wound,6 
I  have  by  hard  advoiture  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  anight7  to  Jane  Smile : 

*  If  thou  remember' 'st  not  the  slightest  folly — ~\  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  from  this  passage  Suckling  took  the  hint  of  his 
song : 

"  Honest  lover,  whosoever, 

"  If  in  all  thy  love  there  ever 
"  Was  one  wav'ring  thought,  if  thy  flame 
"  Were  not  still  even,  still  the  same. 

"  Know  this, 

"  Thou  lov'st  amiss, 
"  And  to  love  true, 
"  Thou  must  begin  again,  and  love  anew,"  &c. 

Johnson". 

*  Wearying  thy  hearer — ]  The  old  copy  has — wearing. 
Corrected  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.  1  am  not  sure  that 
the  emendation  is  necessary,  though  it  has  been  adopted  by  all 
the  editors.     Malone. 

0  of  thy  wound,]     The  old  copy  has — they  tvould.     The 

latter  word  was  corrected  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  the 
other  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 

7  anight — ]  Thus  the  old  copy.     Anight,  is  in  the  night. 

The  word  is  used  by  Chaucer,  in  The  Legende  of  good  Women. 
Our  modern  editors  read,  o'nightst  or  d'night.     Steevens. 


sc.  ir.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  55 

and  I  remember  the  kissing  of  her  batlet,8  and  the 
cow's  dugs  that  her  pretty  chop'd  hands  had  milk'd: 
and  I  remember  the  wooing  of  a  peascod  instead  of 
her ;  from  whom  I  took  two  cods,9  and,  giving  her 
them  again,  said  with  weeping  tears,1  Wear  these 


8  batlet,']    The  instrument  with  which  washers  beat  their 

coarse  clothes.     Johnson. 

Old  copy — bailer.     Corrected  in  the  second  folio.   Malone. 

9  two  cods,]     For  cods  it  would  be  more  like  sense  to 

read — peas,  which  having  the  shape  of  pearls,  resembled  the 
common  presents  of  lovers.     Johnson. 

In  a  schedule  of  jewels  in  the  15th  Vol.  of  Rymer's  Fcedera, 
we  find,  "  Item,  two  peascoddes  of  gold  with  17  pearles.". 

Farmer. 

Peascods  was  the  ancient  term  for  peas  as  they  are  brought  to 
market.  So,  in  Greene's  Groundwork  of  Cony-catching,  1592: 
"  —  went  twice  in  the  week  to  London,  either  with  fruit  or 
pescods,'*  &c.  Again,  in  The  Shepherd's  Slumber,  a  song  pub- 
lished in  England's  Helicon,  1600 : 

"  In  pescod  time  when  hound  to  home 

"  Gives  ear  till  buck  be  kill'd,"  &c. 
Again,  in  The  honest  Man's  Fortune,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher: 

"  Shall  feed  on  delicates,  the  first  peascods,  strawberries." 

Steevens. 

In  the  following  passage,  however,  Touchstone's  present  cer- 
tainly signifies  not  the  pea  but  the  pod,  and  so,  I  believe,  the 
word  is  used  here :  "  He  [Richard  II.]  also  used  a  peascod 
branch  with  the  cods  open,  but  the  peas  out,  as  it  is  upon  his 
robe  in  his  monument  at  Westminster."  Camden's  Remains, 
1614.  Here  we  see  the  cods  and  not  the  peas  were  worn. 
Why  Shakspeare  used  the  former  word  rather  than  pods,  which 
appears  to  have  had  the  same  meaning,  is  obvious.     Malone. 

The  peascod  certainly  means  the  whole  of  the  pea  as  it  hangs 
upon  the  stalk.  It  was  formerly  used  as  an  ornament  in  dress, 
and  was  represented  with  the  shell  open  exhibiting  the  peas.  The 
passage  cited  from  Rymer,  by  Dr.  Farmer,  shows  that  the  peas 
were  sometimes  made  of  pearls,  and  rather  overturns  Dr.  John- 
son's conjecture,  who  probably  imagined  that  Touchstone  took 
the  cods  from  the  peascods,  and  not  from  his  mistress.     Douce. 

1  weeping  tears,]  A  ridiculous  expression  from  a  sonnet 

in  Lodge's  Rosalynd,  the  novel  on  which  this  comedy  is  founded. 


56  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

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.2 

Ros.  Thou  speak'st  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. 

Cor.  Who  calls? 

Touch.  Your  betters,  sir. 

Cor.  Else  are  they  very  wretched. 

Ros.  Peace,  I  say : — 

Good  even  to  you,  friend.3 

Cor.  And  to  you,  gentle  sir,  and  to  you  all. 

It  likewise  occurs  in  the  old  anonymous  play  of  The  Victories  of 
King  Henry  V.  in  Peele's  Jests,  &c.     Steevens. 

The  same  expression  occurs  also  in  Lodge's  Dorastus  and 
Faxunia,  on  which  The  Winter's  Tale  is  founded.     Malone. 

*  so  is  all  nature  in  love  mortal  in  Jolly. .]  This  expres- 
sion I  do  not  well  understand.  In  the  middle  counties,  mortal, 
from  mort,  a  great  quantity,  is  used  as  a  particle  of  amplifica- 
tion ;  as  mortal  tall,  mortal  little.  Of  this  sense  I  believe 
Shakspeare  takes  advantage  to  produce  one  of  his  darling  equi- 
vocations. Thus  the  meaning  will  be,  so  is  all  nature  in  love 
abounding  in  folly.     Johnson. 

3  to  you,  friend.]     The  old  copy  reads — to  your  friend. 

Corrected  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.    Malone. 


sc.  ir.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  57 

Ros.  I  pr'ythee,  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  sheer  the  fleeces  that  I  graze  ; 
My  master  is  of  churlish  disposition, 
And  little  recks 4  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, 
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.5 

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  any  thing. 

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 :  I  like  this 
place, 
And  willingly  could  waste  my  time  in  it. 


4  And  little  recks  — ]  i.  e.  heeds,  cares  for.     So,  in  Hamlet  : 
"  And  recks  not  his  own  rede."     Steevens. 

*  And  in  my  voice  most  welcome  shall  you  be.]  Jn  my  voice,  as 
far  as  I  have  a  voice  or  vote,  as  far  as  1  have  power  to  bid  you 
welcome.    Johnson. 


58  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

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. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   V. 

The  same. 
Enter  Amiens,  Jaques,  and  Others* 

SONG. 

Ami.   Under  the  greenwood  tree, 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  tune 6  his  merry  note 
Under  the  sweet  bird's  throat, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither; 
Here  shall  he  see 
'  No  enemy, 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Jaq.  More,  more,  I  pr'ythee,  more. 

Ami.  It  will  make  you  melancholy,  monsieur 
Jaques. 

0  And  tune  — "J  The  old  copy  has  turne.  Corrected  by  Mr. 
Pope.     So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  : 

"  And  to  the  nightingale's  complaining  note 

"  Tune  ray  distresses,  and  record  my  woes."     Malone. 

The  old  copy  may  be  right,  though  Mr.  Pope,  &c.  read  tune. 
To  turn  a  tune  or  a  note,  is  still  a  current  phrase  among  vulgar 
musicians.     Sti;  evens. 


ft*  v.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  39 

Jaq.  I  thank  it.  More,  I  pr'ythee,  more.  I  can 
suck  melancholy  out  of  a  song,  as  a  weazel  sucks 
eggs :  More,  I  pr'ythee,  more. 

Ami.  My  voice  is  ragged;7  I  know,  I  cannot 
please  you. 

Jaq.  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  my- 
self. 

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 8  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. 

7 ragged;]  Our  modern  editors  (Mr.  Malone  excepted) 

read  rugged ;  but  ragged  had  anciently  the  same  meaning.  So, 
in  Nash's  Apologie  of  Pierce  Pennilesse,  4to.  1593  :  "  1  would 
not  trot  a  false  gallop  through  the  rest  of  his  ragged  verses,*'  &c. 

Steevens. 

9 disputable — ]  For  disputatious.    Malone. 


60  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  it. 


SONG. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun,  [All  together  here. 
And  loves  to  live  V  the  sun,0 
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. 

Jaq.  I'll  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, 
Due  dame,  due  dame,  dueddme;1 
Here  shall  he  see, 
Gross  fools  as  lie, 
An  if  he  will  come  to  Ami. 


9        'to  live  V  the  sun,']  Modern  editions,  to  lie. 

Johnson. 

To  live  V  the  sun,  is  to  labour  and  "  sweat  in  the  eye  of 
Phoebus,"  or,  vitam  agere  sub  dio  ;  for  by  lying  in  the  sun,  how 
could  they  get  the  food  they  eat  ?     Tollet. 

1 dueddmei]  For  dueddme,  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  very 

acutely  and  judiciously,  reads  due  ad  me,  that  is,  bring  him  to 
me.    Johnson. 

If  due  ad  me  were  right,  Amiens  would  not  have  asked  its 
meaning,  and  been  put  ofF  with  M  a  Greek  invocation."  It  is 
evidently  a  word  coinedybr  the  nonce.     We  have  here,  as  Butler 


sc.  r.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  61 

Ami.  What's  that  ducddme  ? 

Jaq.  'Tis  a  Greek  invocation,  to  call  fools  into  a 

says,  "  One  for  sense,  and  one  for  rhyme P     Indeed  we  must 
have  a  double  rhyme  ;  or  this  stanza  cannot  well  be  sung  to  the 
same  tune  with  the  former.     I  read  thus : 
"  Ducddme,  Ducddme,  Ducddme, 
"  Here  shall  he  see 
"  Gross  fools  as  he, 
"  An'  if  he  will  come  to  Ami" 
That  is,  to  Amiens.     Jaques  did  not  mean  to  ridicule  himself. 

Farmer. 

Due  ad  me  has  hitherto  been  received  as  an  allusion  to  the 
burthen  of  Amiens's  song — 

Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither. 
That  Amiens,  who  is  a  courtier,  should  not  understand  Latin, 
or  be  persuaded  it  was  Greek,  is  no  great  matter  for  wonder. 
An  anonymous  correspondent  proposes  to  read — Hue  ad  vie. 

In  confirmation  of  the  old  reading,  however,  Dr.  Farmer 
observes  to  me,  that,  being  at  a  house  not  far  from  Cambridge, 
when  news  was  brought  that  the  hen-roost  was  robbed,  a  face- 
tious old  squire  who  was  present,  immediately  sung  the  follow- 
ing stanza,  which  has  an  odd  coincidence  with  the  ditty  of 
Jaques : 

"  Dame,  what  makes  your  ducks  to  die  ? 

"  duck,  duck,  duck.-' 

u  Dame,  what  makes  your  chicks  to  cry  ? 

"  chuck,  chuck,  chuck." 

I  have  placed  Dr.  Farmer's  emendation  in  the  text.     Ducddme 
is  a  trisyllable.     Steevens. 

If  it  do  come  to  pass, 

That  any  man  turn  ass, 

Leaving  his  wealth  and  ease, 

A  stubborn  will  to  please, 

Due  ad  me,  due  ad  me,  due  ad  me ; 

Here  shall  he  see 

Gross  fools  as  he,  &*c."j  See  Hor.  Serm.  L.  II.  sat.  iii : 
"  Audire  atque  togam  jubeo  componere,  quisquis 
"  Ambitione  mala  aut  argenti  pallet  amore  ; 
"  Quisquis  luxuria  tristive  superstitione, 
"  Aut  alio  mentis  morbo  calet:  Hue  proprius  me, 
"  Dum  doceo  insanire  omnes,  vos  online  adite." 

Malone. 


62  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  it. 

circle.     I'll  go  sleep  if  I  can  ;  if  I  cannot,  I'll  rail 
against  all  the  first-born  of  Egypt.2 

Ami.  And  I'll  go  seek  the  duke ;  his  banquet 
is  prepar'd.  [Exeunt  severally. 


SCENE  VI. 

The  same. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Adam.  Dear  master,  I  can  go  no  further :  O,  I 
die  for  food !  Here  lie  I  down,  and  measure  out 
my  grave.3     Farewell,  kind  master. 

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  any  thing 
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  here  be  with  thee 
presently ;  and  if  I  bring  thee  not  something  to  eat, 
I'll  give  thee  leave  to  die :  but  if  thou  diest  before 

*  the  first-born  of  Egypt."]  A  proverbial  expression  for 

high-born  persons.    Johnson. 

The  phrase  is  scriptural,  as  well  as  proverbial.  So,  in  Exodus, 
xii.  29 :  "  And  the  Lord  smote  all  the  first-born  in  Egypt." 

Steevens. 

3  Here  lie  I  down,  and  measure  out  my  grave.]  So,  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet : 

" fall  upon  the  ground,  as  I  do  now, 

"  Taking  the  measure  of  an  unmade  grave." 

Steevens. 


sc.  vn.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  63 

I  come,  thou  art  a  mocker  of  my  labour.  Well 
said !  thou  look'st  cheerily :  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  any  thing  in 
this  desert.     Cheerly,  good  Adam  !  [Exeunt. 


SCENE   VII. 

The  same. 

A  table  set  out.     Enter  Duke  senior,  Amiens, 
Lords,  and  others. 

Duke  S.  I  think  he  be  transform 'd  into  a  beast ; 
For  I  can  no  where  find  him  like  a  man. 

1  Lord.  My  lord,  he  is  but  even  now  gone  hence ; 
Here  was  he  merry,  hearing  of  a  song. 

Duke  S.  If  he,  compact  of  jars,4  grow  musical, 
We  shall  have  shortly  discord  in  the  spheres :: — 
Go,  seek  him  ;  tell  him,  I  would  speak  with  him. 

Enter  Jaques. 
1  Lord.  He  saves  my  labour  by  his  own  approach. 

4 compact  of 'jars ,]  i.  e.  made  up  of  discords.     In  The 

Comedy  of  Errors,  we  have  "  compact  of  credit"  for  made  up  of 
credulity.     Again,  in  Woman  is  a  Weathercock,  1612: 

" like  gilded  tombs 

"  Compacted  of  jet  pillars." 
The  same  expression  occurs  also  in  Tambtirlane,  1.590: 

"  Compact  of  rapine,  piracy,  and  spoil."''     Steevens. 


64  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

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 ! 1  met  a  fool  i'  the  forest, 

A  motley  fool ; — a  miserable  world ! 5 — 

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, 

Call  me  not  fool,  till  heaven  hath  sent  me  fortune : 8 


4  A  motley  fool ; — a  miserable  world !]  What !  because  he  met 
a  motley  fool,  was  it  therefore  a  miserable  tvorldf  This  is  sadly 
blundered ;  we  should  read  : 

■         a  miserable  varlet. 
His  head  is  altogether  running  on  this  fool,  both  before  and 
after  these  words,  and  here  he  calls  him  a  miserable  variety  not- 
withstanding he  railed  on  lady  Fortune  in  good  terms,  &c.     Nor 
is  the  change  we  may  make,  so  great  as  appears  at  first  sight. 

Warburton. 

I  see  no  need  of  changing  world  to  varlet,  nor,  if  a  change 
were  necessary,  can  I  guess  how  it  should  certainly  be  known 
that  varlet  is  the  true  word.  A  miserable  tvorld  is  a  parenthe- 
tical exclamation,  frequent  among  melancholy  men,  and  natural 
to  Jaques  at  the  sight  of  a  fool,  or  at  the  hearing  of  reflections 
on  the  fragility  of  life.    Johnson. 

6  Call  me  not  fool,  till  heaven  hath  sent  me  fortune  .•]  Fortuna 
favet  fatuis,  is,  as  Mr.  Upton  observes,  the  saying  here  alluded 
to ;  or,  as  in  Publius  Syrus : 

**  Fortuna,  nimium  quern fovet,  stultumjacit.'* 
So,  in  the  Prologue  to  The  Alchemist : 

"  Fortune,  that  favours  fooles,  these  two  short  houres 

"  We  wish  away." 
Again,  in  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  Act  I.  sc.  iii  : 

"  Sog.  Why,  who  am  I,  sir  ? 

"Mac.  One  of  those  that  fortune  favours. 

"Car.  The  periphrasis  of  a  foole."     Reed. 


sc.  vn.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  65 

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  may  we  see,  quoth  he,  how  the  world  wags : 

'Tis  but  an  hour  ago,  since  it  was  nine  ; 

And  after  an  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. — O  noble  fool ! 

A  worthy  fool !  Motley's  the  only  wear.7 

Duke  S.  What  fool  is  this  ? 

Jaq.  O  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  bisket 
After  a  voyage, — he  hath  strange  places  cramm'd 


7 Motley's  the  only  tvear."]  It  would  have  been-  unne- 
cessary to  repeat  that  a  motley,  or  party-coloured  coat,  was  an- 
ciently the  dress  of  a  fool,  had  not  the  editor  of  Ben  Jonson's 
works  been  mistaken  in  his  comment  on  the  53d  Epigram : 

" where,  out  of  motly's,  he 

"  Could  save  that  line  to  dedicate  to  thee  ?" 

Motly,  says  Mr.  Whalley,  is  the  man  who  out  of  any  odd 
mixture,  or  old  scraps,  could  save,  &c.  whereas  it  means  only, 
Who,  but  a  fool,  i.  e.  one  in  a  suit  of  motley,  &c. 

See  Fig.  XII.  in  the  plate  at  the  end  of  The  First  Part  of  King 
Henry  IV.  with  Mr.  Toilet's  explanation. 

The  observation — Motley's  the  only  wear,  might  have  been 
suggested  to  Shakspeare  by  the  following  line  in' the  4th  Satire 
of  Donne : 

"  Your  only  wearing  is  your  grogarara."     Steevens. 

VOL.  VIII.  F 


66  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  if. 

With  observation,  the  which  he  vents 

In  mangled  forms : — O,  that  I  were  a  fool ! 

I  am  ambitious  for  a  motley  coat. 

Duke  S.  Thou  shalt  have  one. 

Jaq.  It  is  ray  only  suit  ;8 

Provided,  that  you  weed  your  better  judgments 
Of  all  opinion  that  grows  rank  in  them, 
That  I  am  wise.     I  must  have  liberty 
Withal,  as  large  a  charter  as  the  wind,9 
To  blow  on  whom  I  please  ;  for  so  fools  have : 
And  they  that  are  most  galled  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  anatomiz'd 
Even  by  the  squandring  glances  of  the  fool.2 

• only  suit ;]  Suit  means  petition,  I  believe,  not  dress. 

Johnson. 
The  poet  meant  a  quibble.     So,  Act  V:  "  Not  out  of  your 
apparel,  but  out  of  your  suit.'"     Steevens. 

9 as  large  a  charter  as  the  xvind,']  So,  in  King  Henry  V  : 

"  The  wind,  that  charter'' d  libertine,  is  still."     Malone. 

1  Not  to  seem  senseless  of  the  bob  .•]  The  old  copies  read  only 
— Seem  senseless,  &c.  Not  to  were  supplied  by  Mr.  Theobald. 
See  the  following  note.     Steevens. 

Besides  that  the  third  verse  is  defective  one  whole  foot  in 
measure,  the  tenour  of  what  Jaques  continues  to  say,  and  the 
reasoning  of  the  passage,  show  it  no  less  defective  in  the  sense. 
There  is  no  doubt,  but  the  two  little  monosyllables,  which  I  have 
supplied,  were  either  by  accident  wanting  in  the  manuscript,  or 
by  inadvertence  were  left  out.     Theobald. 

* if  not,  &c]  Unless  men  have  the  prudence  not  to  ap- 
pear touched  with  the  sarcasms  of  a  jester,  they  subject  them- 
selves to  his  power ;  and  the  wise  man  will  have  his  folly  anato- 
mised, that  is,  dissected  and  laid  open,  by  the  squandring  glances 
or  random  shots  of  a  fool.    Johnson. 


SB.  til  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  67 

Invest  me  in  my  motley ;  give  me  leave 
To  speak  my  mind,  and  I  will  through  and  through 
Cleanse  the  foul  body  of  the  infected  world,3 
If  they  will  patiently  receive  my  medicine. 

Duke  S.  Fye  on  thee !   I  can  tell  what  thou 
wouldst  do. 

Jaq.    What,  for  a  counter,4  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 5  itself; 
And  all  the  embossed  sores,  and  headed  evils, 
That  thou  with  licence  of  free  foot  hast  caught, 
Wouldst  thou  disgorge  into  the  general  world. 

3  Cleanse  the  foul  body  of  the  bifected  'world,']  So,  in  Mac* 
beih ; 

"  Cleanse  the  stuff'd  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff." 

Douce. 

4 for  a  counter,]  Dr.  Farmer  observes  to  me,  that  about 

the  time  when  this  play  was  written,  the  French  counters  (i.  e. 
pieces  of  false  money  used  as  a  means  of  reckoning)  were 
brought  into  use  in  England.  They  are  again  mentioned  in 
TroUus  and  Cressida : 

" will  you  with  counters  sum 

'*  The  past  proportion  of  his  infinite?"    Steevens. 

*  As  sensual  as  the  brutish  sting  — ]  Though  the  brutish  sting 
is  capable  of  a  sense  not  inconvenient  in  this  passage,  yet  as  it 
is  a  harsh  and-unusual  mode  of  speech,  I  should  read  the  brutish 
sty.    Johnson. 

I  believe  the  old  reading  is  the  true  one.  So,  in  Spenser's 
Fairy  Queen,  B.  I.  c.  viii : 

"  A  heard  of  bulls  whom  kindly  rage  doth  stingP 
Again,  B.  II.  c.  xii : 

-   "  As  if  that  hunger's  point,  or  Venus'  stingy 
"  Had  them  enrag'd." 
Again,  in  Othello : 

" our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted  lusts." 

Steevens. 

F2 


68  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

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  very  very  means  do  ebb  ?6 
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  bravery7  is  not  on  my  cost, 
(Thinking  that  I  mean  him,)  but  therein  suits 
His  folly  to  the  mettle  of  my  speech  ? 
There  then ;  How,  what  then  ?8  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  Orlando,  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? 

8  Till  that  the  very  very  — ]  The  old  copy  reads — weary  very. 
Corrected  by  Mr.  Pope.     Malone. 

7  his  bravery  — ]    i.  e.  his  fine  clothes.      So,  in   The 

Taming  of  a  Shrew : 

"  With  scarfs  and  fans,  and  double  change  of  bravery." 

Steevens. 

8  There  then;  How,  what  then?  &c]  The  old  copy  reads, 
very  redundantly — 

"  There  then  ;  How  then  ?   What  then  ?  &c.    Steevens. 

I  believe  we  should  read — Where  then?     So,  in  Othello : 
*'  What  then?  How  then ?   Where's  satisfaction  ?" 

Malone. 


Be  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  69 

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  :9  yet  am  I  inland  bred,1 
And  know  some  nurture : 2  But  forbear,  I  say ; 
He  dies,  that  touches  any  of  this  fruit, 
Till  I  and  my  affairs  are  answered. 

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. 

9 the  thorny  point 

Of  bare  distress  hath  ta'en/rom  me  the  show 
Of  smooth    civility:]     We    might    read    torn   with   more 
elegance,  but  elegance  alone  will  not  justify  alteration. 

Johnson. 

' inland  bred,"]  Inland  here,  and  elsewhere  in  this  play, 

is  the  opposite  to  outland,  or  upland.     Orlando  means  to  say, 
that  he  had  not  been  bred  among  clowns.     Holt  White. 

*  And  know  some  nurture :]  Nurture  is  education,  breeding, 
manners.     So,  in  Greene's  Never  too  late,  1616 : 

"  He  shew'd  himself  as  full  of  nurture  as  of  nature." 
Again,  as  Mr.  Holt  White  observes  to  me,  Barret  says,  in  his 
Ahearie,  1580:  "  It  is  a  point  of  nurture,  or  good  manners,  to 
salute  them  that  you  meete.      Urbanitatis  est  salutare  obvios." 

SXEEVENS. 

St.  Paul  advises  the  Ephesians,  in  his  Epistle,  ch.  vi.  4,  to 
bring  their  children  up  "  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord."     Harrjs. 


70  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  11. 

Orl.  Speak  you  so  gently?  Pardon  me,  I  pray  you: 
I  thought,  that  all  things  had  been  savage  here  j 
And  therefore  put  I  on  the  countenance 
Of  stern  commandment :  But  whate'er  you  are, 
That  |n  this  desert  inaccessible,3 
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  j 
If  ever  sat  at  any  good  man's  feast ; 
If  ever  from  your  eye-lids  wip'd  a  tear, 
And  know  wnat  '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  j 
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,4 
That  to  your  wanting  may  be  ministred. 

Orl.  Then,  but  forbear  your  food  a  little  while, 
Whiles,  like  a  doe,  I  go  to  find  my  fawn, 
And  give  it  food.5     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, — 

*  — ; —  desert  inaccessible ,]  This  expression  I  find  in  The  Ad- 
ventures of  Simonides,  by  Barn.  Riehe,  1580:  "  — and  onely 
acquainted  himselfe  with  the  solitarinesse  of  this  unaccessible 
desert.1*    Henderson. 

4  And  take  upon  command  what  help  roe  have,]  Upon  command, 
is  at  your  own  command.     Steevens. 

s  Whiles,  like  a  doe,  /  go  tojind  my  fawn, 
And  give  it  food.}  So,  in  Venus  and  Adonis  : 

"  Like  a  milch  doe,  whose  swelling  dugs  do  ake, 
"  Hasting  to  feed  herjaxvn."    Malone. 


sc.  ni.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  71 

Oppress'd  with  two  weak  evils,  age  and  hunger, — 
I  will  not  touch  a  bit. 

Duke  S.  Go  find  him  out, 

And  we  will  nothing  waste  till  you  return. 

Orl.  I  thank  ye  ;  and  be  bless'd  for  your  good 
comfort !  \_Exit. 

Duke  S.  Thou  seest,  we  are  not  all  alone  un- 
happy : 
This  wide  and  universal  theatre 
Presents  more  woeful  pageants  than  the  scene 
Wherein  we  play  in.6 

Jaq.  All  the  world's  a  stage,7 


6  Wherein  we  play  in.]  Tims  the  old  copy.  Mr.  Pope  more 
correctly  reads : 

Wherein  we  play. 
I  believe,  with  Mr.  rope,  that  we  should  only  read — 

Wherein  we  play. 
and  add  a  word  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  speech,  to  com- 
plete the  measure ;  viz. 

"  Why,  all  the  world's  a  stage." 
Thus,  in  Hamlet : 

"  Hor.  So  Rosencrantz  and  Guildehstern  go  to't. 

44  Ham.  Why,  man,  they  did  make  love  to  their  em- 
ployment." 
Again,  in  Measure  for  Measure: 

"  Why,  all  the  souls  that  were,  were  forfeit  once." 
Again,  ibid: 

"  Why,  every  fault's  condemn'd,  ere  it  be  done." 
In  twenty  other  instances  we  find  the  same  adverb  introductorily 
used.     Steevens. 

7  All  the  world's  a  stage,  &c]  This  observation  occurs  In 
one  of  the  fragments  of  Petronius :  "  Non  duco  contentionis 
funem,  dum  constet  inter  nos,  quod  fere  totus  mundus  exerceat 
histrioniam."     Steevens. 

This  observation  had  been  made  in  an  English  drama  before 
the  time  of  Shakspeare.     See  Damon  and  Pythias,  1582: 
"  Pythagoras  said,  that  this  world  was  like  a  stage, 
41  Whereon  many  play  their  parts.*' 


72  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  u 

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.3     At  first,  the  infant, 

In  The  Legend  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  1597,  we  find  these 

lines : 

"  Unhappy  man 

"  Whose  life  a  sad  continual  tragedie, 

4<  Himself  the  actor,  in  the  world,  the  stage, 

u  While  as  the  acts  are  measured  by  his  age.'*    Malone. 

*  His  acts  being  seven  ages.]  Dr.  Warburton  observes,  that 
this  was  M  no  unusual  division  of  a  play  before  our  author's 
time;"  but  forbears  to  offer  any  one  example  in  support  of  his 
assertion.  I  have  carefully  perused  almost  every  dramatick 
piece  antecedent  to  Shakspeare,  or  contemporary  with  him;  but 
so  far  from  being  divided  into  acts,  they  are  almost  all  printed 
in  an  unbroken  continuity  of  scenes.  I  should  add,  that  there 
is  one  play  of  six  acts  to  be  met  with,  and  another  of  twenty- 
one;  but  the  second  of  these  is  a  translation  from  the  Spanish, 
and  never  could  have  been  designed  for  the  stage.  In  God's 
Promises,  1577,  "  A  Tragedie  or  Enterlude,"  (or  rather  a 
Mystery,)  by  John  Bale,  seven  acts  may  indeed  be  found. 

It  should,  however,  be  observed,  that  the  intervals  in  the 
Greek  Tragedy  are  known  to  have  varied  from  three  acts  to 
seven.     Steevens. 

Dr.  Warburton  boldly  asserts  that  this  was  "  no  unusual  di- 
vision of  a  play  before  our  author's  time."  One  of  Chapman's 
plays  (  Two  wise  Men  and  all  the  rest  Fools)  is  indeed  in  seven 
acts.  This,  however,  is  the  only  dramatick  piece  that  I  have 
found  so  divided.  But  surely  it  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that 
our  author  alluded  here  to  any  such  precise  division  of  the 
drama.  His  comparisons  seldom  run  on  four  feet.  It  was  suf- 
ficient for  him  that  a  play  was  distributed  into  several  acts,  and 
that  human  life,  long  before  his  time,  had  been  divided  into 
seven  periods.  In  The  Treasury  of  ancient  and  modern  Times, 
1613,  Proclus,  a  Greek  author,  is  said  to  have  divided  the  life- 
time of  man  into  seven  aces;  over  each  of  which  one  of  the 
seven  planets  was  supposed  to  rule.  "  The  first  age  is  called 
Infancy,  containing  the  space  of  foure  yeares. — The  second 
age  continueth  ten  years,  untill  he  attaine  to  the  yeares  of  four- 
teene  :  this  ;ige  is  called  Childhood. — The  third  age  consisteth 
of  eight  yeaies,  being  named  by  our  auncients  Adolescencie  or 


sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  IS 

Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms  ; 
And  then,9the  whining  school-boy,  with  his  satchel, 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school :  And  then,  the  lover ; 
Sighing  like  furnace,1  with  a  woeful  ballad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eye-brow :  Then,  a  soldier ; 


Youthkood;  and  it  lasteth  from  fourteene,  till  two  and  twenty 
yeares  be  fully  compleate. — The  fourth  age  paceth  on,  till  a 
man  have  accomplished  two  and  fortie  yeares,  and  is  tearmed 
Young  Manhood. — The  fifth  age,  named  Mature  Manhood, 
hath  (according  to  the  said  authour)  fifteene  yeares  of  continu- 
ance, and  therefore  makes  his  progress  so  far  as  six  and  fifty 
yeares. — Afterwards,  in  adding  twelve  to  fifty -sixe,  you  shall 
make  up  sixty-eight  yeares,  which  reach  to  the  end  of  the  sixt 
age,  and  is  called  Old  Age. — The  seaventh  and  last  of  these 
seven  ages  is  limited  from  sixty-eight  yeares,  so  far  as  four-score 
and  eight,  being  called  weak,  declining,  and  Decrepite  Age. — 
If  any  man  chance  to  goe  beyond  this  age,  (which  is  more 
admired  than  noted  in  many, )  you  shall  evidently  perceive  that 
he  will  returne  to  his  first  condition  of  Infancy  againe." 

Hippocrates  likewise  divided  the  life  of  man  into  seven  ages, 
but  differs  from  Proclus  in  the  number  of  years  allotted  to  each 
period.     See  Brown's  Vulgar  Errors,  folio,  1686,  p.  173. 

Malone. 

I  have  seen,  more  than  once,  an  old  print,  entitled,  The  Stage 
of  Man's  Life,  divided  into  seven  ages.  As  emblematical  re- 
presentations of  this  sort  were  formerly  stuck  up,  both  for  or- 
nament and  instruction,  in  the  generality  of  houses,  it  is  more 
probable  that  Shakspeare  took  his  hint  from  thence,  than  from 
Hippocrates  or  Proclus.     Henley. 

One  of  the  representations  to  which  Mr.  Henley  alludes,  was 
formerly  in  my  possession ;  and  considering  the  use  it  is  of  in 
explaining  the  passage  before  us,  "  I  could  have  better  spared 
a  better  print"  I  well  remember  that  it  exhibited  the  school- 
boy with  his  satchel  hanging  over  his  shoulder.     Steevens. 

9  And  then,'}  And,  which  is  wanting  in  the  old  copy,  wa$ 
supplied,  for  the  sake  of  metre,  by  Mr.  Pope.     Steevens. 

1  Sighing  likejiirnace,]  So,  in  Cymbeline:  "  — hefurnaceth 
the  thick  sighs  from  him — ."     Malone. 


74  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard,2 
Jealous  in  honour,  sudden  and  quick3  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, 
Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances,4 
And  so  he  plays  his  part :  The  sixth  age  shifts 
Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon  $ a 

* a  soldier; 

Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard,]     So,  in 
Cynthia's  Revels,  by  Ben  Jonson  : 

"  Your  soldiers  face — the  grace  of  this  face  consisteth  much 
in  a  beard.''     Steevens. 

Beards  of  different  cut  were  appropriated  in  our  author's  time 
to  different  characters  and  professions.  The  soldier  had  one 
fashion,  the  judge  another,  the  bishop  different  from  both,  &c. 
See  a  note  on  King  Henry  V.  Act  III.  sc.  vi :  "  And  what  a 
beard  of  the  general's  cut,"  &c.     Malone. 

* sudden  and  quick — ]     Lest  it  should  be  supposed  that 

these  epithets  are  synonymous,  it  is  necessary  to  be  observed 
that  one  of  the  ancient  senses  of  sudden,  is  violent.  Thus,  in 
Macbeth  : 

" 1  grant  him  sudden, 

t*  Malicious,"  &c.     Steevens. 

4  Full  of  xvise  saws  ami  modern  instances,']  It  is  remarkable 
that  Shakspeare  uses  modern  in  the  double  sense  that  the  Greeks 
used  xxtvos,  both  for  recens  and  absurdus.     Warbukton. 

I  am  in  doubt  whether  modern  is  in  this  place  used '  for 
absurd:  the  meaning  seems  to  be,  that  the  justice  is  full  of  old 
sayings  and  late  examples.    Johnson. 

Modern  means  trite,  common.     So,  in  King  John  : 

"  And  scorns  a  modern  invocation." 
Again,  in  this  play,  Act  IV.  sc.  i :  "  — betray  themselves  to 
modern  censure."     Steevens. 

Again,  in  another  of  our  author's  plays:  " — to  make  modern 
and  familiar  things  supernatural  and  causeless."     Malone. 

4  The  sixth  age  shifts 

Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon ;]     There  is  a  greater 


sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  75 

With  spectacles  on  nose,6  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  every  thing. 

beauty  than  appears  at  first  sight  in  this  image.  He  is  here  com- 
paring human  life  to  a  stage  play  of  seven  acts,  (which  is  no  un- 
usual division  before  our  author's  time).  The  sixth  he  calls  the 
lean  and  slippered  pantaloon,  alluding  to  that  general  character 
in  the  Italian  comedy,  called  II  Pantalone;  who  is  a  thin 
emaciated  old  man  in  slippers  ;  and  well  designed,  in  that 
epithet,  because  Pantalone  is  the  only  character  that  acts  in 
slippers.     Warburton. 

In  The  Travels  of  the  Three  English  Brothers,  a  comedy, 
1606,  an  Italian  Harlequin  is  introduced,  who  offers  to  perform 
a  play  at  a  Lord's  house,  in  which,  among  other  characters,  he 
mentions  "  a  jealous  coxcomb,  and  an  old  Pantaloune."  But 
this  is  seven  years  later  than  the  date  of  the  play  before  us :  nor 
do  I  know  from  whence  our  author  could  learn  the  circumstance 
mentioned  by  Dr.  Warburton,  that  "  Pantalone  is  the  only  cha- 
racter in  the  Italian  comedy  that  acts  in  slippers."  In  Florio's 
Italian  Dictionary,  1598,  the  word  is  not  found.  In  The  Taming 
of  a  Shrew,  one  of  the  characters,  if  I  remember  right,  is  called 
"  an  old  Pantaloon,"  but  there  is  no  farther  description  of  him. 

*  Malone. 

6 the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon, 

.  With  spectacles  on  nose,]  So,  in  The  Plotte  of  the  deade 
Man's  Fortune :  [See  Vol.  III.  — .]  "  Enter  the  panteloun  and 
pescode  with  spectakles."     Steevens. 


76  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

He-enter  Orlando,  with  Adam. 

Duke  S.  Welcome :  Set  down  your  venerable 
burden,7 
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  S.  Welcome,  fall  to:  I  will  not  trouble  you 
As  yet,  to  question  you  about  your  fortunes : — 
Give  us  some  musick  j  and,  good  cousin,  sing. 

Amiens  sings. 

SONG. 

I. 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude  ; 8 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen,9 
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,  tlie  holly  ! 
This  life  is  most  jolly. 

7 Set  down  your  venerable  burden,"]    Is  it  not  likely  that 

Shakspeare  had  in  his  mind  this  line  ot  the  Metamorphoses? 
XIII.  125 : 

" Patremque 

"  Fert  humerisy  venerabile  onus,  Cythereius  heros.^ 

Johnson. 
A.  Golding,  p.  169,  b.  edit.  1587,  translates  it  thus : 

** upon  his  backe 

"  His  aged  father  and  his  gods,  an  honorable  packe." 

Steevens. 


sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  77 

II. 

Freeze ',  freeze ;  thou  bitter  sky, 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 

As  benefits  forgot : 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp,1 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 
As  friend  remember*  d  not* 
Heigh,  ho  !  sing,  heigh,  ho  !  &c. 


8  Thou  art  not  so  unkind  fyc]  That  is,  thy  action  is  not  so 
contrary  to  thy  kind,  or  to  human  nature,  as  the  ingratitude  of 
man.     So,  in  our  author's  Venus  and  Adonis,  1593: 

"  O  had  thy  mother  borne  so  bad  a  mind, 

"  She  had  not  brought  forth  thee,  but  dy'd  unkind." 

Malone. 

9  Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen. 

Because  thou  art  not  seen,]  This  song  is  designed  to  suit 
the  Duke's  exiled  condition,  who  had  been  ruined  by  ungrateful 
Jlatterers.  Now  the  winter  wind,  the  song  saj'S,  is  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  man's  ingratitude.  But  why  ?  Because  it  is  not  seen. 
But  this  was  not  only  an  aggravation  of  the  injury,  as  it  was 
done  in  secret,  not  seen,  but  was  the  very  circumstance  that 
made  the  keenness  of  the  ingratitude  of  his  faithless  courtiers. 
Without  doubt,  Shakspeare  wrote  the  line  thus : 

Because  thou  art  not  sheen, 
i.  e.  smiling,  shining,  like  an  ungrateful  court-servant,  who  flat- 
ters while  he  wounds,  which  was  a  very  good  reason  for  giving 
the  winter  wind  the  preference.     So,  in  A  Midsummer- Night's 
Dream : 

"  Spangled  star-light  sheen" 
And  several  other  places.     Chaucer  uses  it  in  this  sense : 

"  Your  blissful  sister  Lucina  the  shene." 
And  Fairfax : 

"  The  sacred  angel  took  his  target  shene, 

u  And  by  the  Christian  champion  stood  unseen." 
The  Oxford  editor,  who  had  this  emendation  communicated  to 
him,  takes  occasion  from  hence  to  alter  the  whole  line  thus : 

Thou  causest  not  that  teen. 
But,  in  his  rage  of  correction,  he  forgot  to  leave  the  reason,  which 
is  now  wanting,  Why  the  winter  wind  was  to  be  preferred  to 
man's  ingratitude.    Warburton. 


78  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

Duke  S.  If  that  you  were  the  good  sir  Rowland's 
son, — 
As  you  have  whisper'd  faithfully,  you  were ; 

I  am  afraid  that  no  reader  is  satisfied  with  Dr.  Warburton's 
emendation,  however  vigorously  enforced ;  and  it  is  indeed  en- 
forced with  more  art  than  truth.  Sheen,  i.  e.  smiling,  shining. 
That  sheen  signifies  shining,  is  easily  proved,  but  when  or  where 
did  it  signify  smiling  f  yet  smiling  gives  the  sense  necessary  in 
this  place.  Sir  T.  Hanmer's  change  is  less  uncouth,  but  too  re- 
mote from  the  present  text.  For  my  part,  I  question  whether 
the  original  line  is  not  lost,  and  this  substituted  merely  to  fill 
up  the  measure  and  the  rhyme.  Yet  even  out  of  this  line,  by 
strong  agitation  may  sense  be  elicited,  and  sense  not  unsuitable 
to  the  occasion.  Thou  winter  wind,  says  Amiens,  thy  rudeness 
gives  the  less  pain,  as  thou  art  not-  seen,  as  thou  art  an  enemy 
that  dost  not  brave  us  with  thy  presence,  and  whose  unkindness  is 
therefore  not  aggravated  by  insult.     Johnson. 

Though  the  old  text  may  be  tortured  into  a  meaning,  perhaps 
it  would  be  as  well  to  read : 
e  Because  the  heart's  not  seen. 

y  harts,  according  to  the  ancient  mode  of  writing,  was  easily 
corrupted.     Farmer. 

So,  in  the  Sonnet  introduced  into  Love's  Labour's  Lost  : 
"  Through  the  velvet  leaves  the  wind 
"  All  unseen  'gan  passage  find."     Steevens. 

Again,  in  Measure  for  Measure  : 

"  To  be  imprison'd  in  the  viewless  winds."     Malone. 

1  Though  thou  the  waters  warp,]  The  surface  of  waters,  so  long 
as  they  remain  unfrozen,  is  apparently  a  perfect  plane ;  whereas, 
when  they  are,  this  surface  deviates  from  its  exact  flatness,  or 
"warps.  This  is  remarkable  in  small  ponds,  the  surface  of  which, 
when  frozen,  forms  a  regular  concave;  the  ice  on  the  sides  rising 
higher  than  that  in  the  middle.     Kenrick. 

To  warp  was,  probably,  in  Shakspeare's  time,  a  colloquial 
word,  which  conveyed  no  distant  allusion  to  any  thing  else, 
physical  or  mechanical.  To  warp  is  to  turn,  and  to  turn  is  to 
change :  when  milk  is  changed  by  curdling,  we  now  say  it  is 
turned:  when  water  is  changed  or  turned  by  frost,  Shakspeare 
says,  it  is  curdled.  To  be  warped  is  only  to  be  changed  from 
its  natural  state.    Johnson. 


sc.  vii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  79 

And  as  mine  eye  doth  his  effigies  witness 
Most  truly  limn'd,  and  living  in  your  face, — 


Dr.  Johnson  is  certainly  right.  So,  in  Cynthia's  Revels,  of 
Ben  Jonson :  "  I  know  not,  he's  grown  out  of  his  garb  a-late, 
he's  warp'd. — And  so,  methinks  too,  he  is  much  converted." 
Thus  the  mole  is  called  the  mould-warp,  because  it  changes  the 
appearance  of  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Again,  in  The  Winter's 
Tale,  Act  I : 

"  My  favour  here  begins  to  warp." 
Dr.  Farmer  supposes  warp'd  to  mean  the  same  as  curdled,  and 
adds,  that  a  similar  idea  occurs  in  Timon : 

" the  icicle 

"  That  curdled  by  the  frost,"  &c.     Steevens. 

Among  a  collection  of  Saxon  adages  in  Hickes's  Thesaurus, 
Vol.  I.  p.  221,  the  succeeding  appears :  pintep  j-ceal  jepeonpan 
peben,  winter  shall  warp  water.  So  that  Shakspeare's  expression 
was  anciently  proverbial.  It  should  be  remarked,  that  among 
the  numerous  examples  in  Manning's  excellent  edition  of  Lye's 
Dictionary,  there  is  no  instance  of  peonpan  or  gepeonpan,  im- 
plying to  freeze,  bend,  turn,  or  curdle,  though  it  is  a  verb  of  very 
extensive  signification. 

Probably  this  word  still  retains  a  similar  sense  in  the  Northern 
part  of  the  island,  for  in  a  Scottish  parody  on  Dr.  Percy's  elegant 
ballad,  beginning,  "  O  Nancy,  wilt  thou  go  with  me,"  I  find 
the  verse  "  Nor  shrink  before  the  wintry  wind,"  is  altered  to 
"  Nor  shrink  before  the  warping  wind."     Holt  White. 

The  meaning  is  ,this :  Though  the  very  waters,  by  thy  agency, 
are  forced,  against  the  law  of  their  nature,  to  bend  from  their 
stated  level,  yet  thy  sting  occasions  less  anguish  to  man,  than 
the  ingratitude  of  those  he  befriended.     Henley. 

Wood  is  said  to  warp  when  its  surface,  from  being  level,  be- 
comes bent  and  uneven;  from  warpan,  Saxon,  to  cast.  So, 
in  this  play,  Act  III.  sc.  iii :  "  — then  one  of  you  will  prove  a 
shrunk  pannel,  and,  like  green  timber,  warp,  warp."  I  doubt 
whether  the  poet  here  alludes  to  any  operation  of  frost.  The 
meaning  may  be  only,  Thou  bitter  wintry  sky,  though  thou 
curlest  the  waters,  thy  sting,  &c.  Thou  in  the  line  before  us 
refers  only  to — bitter  sky.  The  influence  of  the  winter's  sky  or 
season  may,  with  sufficient  propriety,  be  said  to  warp  the  surface 
of  the  ocean,  by  agitation  of  its  waves  alone. 

That  this  passage  refers  to  the  turbulence  of  the  sky,  and  the 


80  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  n. 

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  :3 
Support  him  by  the  arm. — Give  me  your  hand, 
And  let  me  all  your  fortunes  understand. 

\KxeunU 

consequent  agitation  of  the  ocean,  and  not  to  the  operation  of 
frost,  may  be  collected  from  our  author's  having  in  King  John 
described  ice  as  uncommonly  smooth  : 

"  To  throw  a  perfume  on  the  violet, 

"  To  smooth  the  ice"  &c.     Ma  lone. 
*  As  friend  remember'd  not.']  Remember  d  for  remembering. 
So,  afterwards,  Act  III.  sc.  last : 

"  And  now  I  am  remember  d — ." 
i.  e.  and  now  that  I  bethink  me,  &c.    Ma  lone. 

3 as  thy  master  is:]    The  old  copy  has — masters.    Cor- 
rected by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.    Ma  lone. 


act  iil  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  81 

ACT   III.      SCENE   I. 

A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Duke  Frederick,  Oliver,  Lords,  and 
Attendants. 

Duke  F.  Not  see  him  since  ?  Sir,  sir,  that  can- 
not be : 
But  were  I  not  the  better  part  made  mercy, 
I  should  not  seek  an  absent  argument4 
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.  O,  that  your  highness  knew  my  heart  in 
this! 
I  never  lov'd  my  brother  in  my  life. 

DukeF.  More  villain  thou. — Well,  push  him 
out  of  doors ; 
And  let  my  officers  of  such  a  nature 

* an  absent  argument — ]    An  argument  is  used  for  the 

contents  of  a  book,  thence  Shakspeare  considered  it  as  meaning 
the  subject,  and  then  used  it  for  subject  in  yet  another  sense. 

Johnson. 

5  Seek  him  with  candle ;]  Alluding,  probably,  to  St.  Luke's 
Gospel,  ch.  xv.  v.  8  :  "  If  she  lose  one  piece,  doth  she  not  light 
a  candle, — and  seek  diligently  till  she  find  it  ?"     Steevens. 

VOL.  VIII.  G 


82  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ///. 

Make  an  extent  upon  his  house  and  lands:6 
Do  this  expediently,7  and  turn  him  going. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE    II. 

The  Forest 

Enter  Orlando,  with  a  paper, 

Orl.  Hang  there,  my  verse,  in  witness  of  my  love : 
And,thou,thrice-crownedqueenofnight,*survey 
With  thy  chaste  eye,  from  thy  pale  sphere  above, 
Thy  huntress'  name,  that  my  full  life  doth  sway.0 


6  And  let  my  officers  of  such  a  nature 

Make  an  extent  upon  his  house  and  lands:]  "  To  make  an 
extent  of  lands,"  is  a  legal  phrase,  from  the  words  of  a  writ, 
(extendi  facias,)  whereby  the  sheriff  is  directed  to  cause  certain 
lands  to  be  appraised  to  their  full  extended  value,  before  he 
delivers  them  to  the  person  entitled  under  a  recognizance,  &c. 
in  order  that  it  may  be  certainly  known  how  soon  the  debt  will 
be  paid.     Malone. 

7  ——'expediently,']  That  is,  expeditiously.    Johnson. 

Expedient,  throughout  our  author's  plays,  signifies — expedi- 
tious.    So,  in  King  John  : 

**  His  marches  are  expedient  to  this  town.'' 
Again,  in  King  Richard  II: 

"  Are  making  hither  with  all  due  expedience" 

Steevens. 

8  — — thrice-crowned  queen  of  night,]  Alluding  to  the  triple 
character  of  Proserpine,  Cynthia,  and  Diana,  given  by  some 
mythologists  to  the  same  goddess,  and  comprised  in  these  me- 
morial lines : 

Terret,  lustrat,  agit,  Proserpina,  Luna,  Diana, 
Ima,  superna,  feras,  sceptro,  fulgore,  sagittis. 

Johnson. 

* that  my  full  life  doth  sway.]    So,  in  Twelfth  Night : 

"  M.O.A.I.  doth  sway  my  life."     Steevens. 


sc.  il  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  S3 

O  Rosalind !  these  trees  shall  be  my  books, 

And  in  their  barks  my  thoughts  I'll  character ; 

That  every  eye,  which  in  this  forest  looks, 
Shall  see  thy  virtue  witness'd  every  where. 

Run,  run,  Orlando;  carve,  on  every  tree, 

The  fair,  the  chaste,  and  unexpressive1  she,  [Exit. 


.  Enter  Corin  and  Touchstone. 

Cor.  And  how  like  you  this  shepherd's  life, 
master  Touchstone  ? 

Touch.  Truly,  shepherd,  in  respect  of  itself,  it  is 
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  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 

1 unexpressive — ]  For  inexpressible.     Johnson. 

Milton  also,  in  his  Hymn  on  the  Nativity,  uses  unexpressive 
for  inexpressible : 

"  Harping  with  loud  and  solemn  quire, 
"  With  unexpressive  notes  to  heaven's  new-born  heir." 

Malone. 
G   2 


S4  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

nature  nor  art,  may  complain  of  good  breeding,  or 
comes  of  a  very  dull  kindred.2 

Touch.  Such  a  one  is  a  natural  philosopher.3 
Wast  ever  in  court,  shepherd  ? 

Cor.  No,  truly. 

Touch.  Then  thou  art  damn'd. 

Cor.  Nay,  I  hope, 

Touch.  Truly,  thou,  art  damn'd ;   like  an  ill- 
roasted  egg,4  all  on  one  side. 

* he,  that  hath  learned  no  xvit  by  nature  nor  art,  may 

complain  of  good  breeding,  or  comes  of  a  very  dull  kindred.'] 
I  am  in  doubt  whether  the  custom  of  the  language  in  Shak- 
speare's  time  did  not  authorise  this  mode  of  speech,  and  make 
complain  of  good  breeding  the  same  with  complain  of  the  want 
of  good  breeding.  In  the  last  line  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice 
we  find  that  to  fear  the  keeping  is  to  fear  the  not  keeping. 

Johnson. 

I  think  he  means  rather — may  complain  of  a  good  education, 
for  being  so  inefficient,  of  so  little  use  to  him.     Malone. 

3  Such  a  one  is  a  natural  philosopher.']  The  shepherd  had  said 
all  the  philosophy  he  knew  was  the  property  of  things,  that  rain 
•voetted,  fire  burnt,  &c.  And  the  Clown's  reply,  in  a  satire  on 
physicks  or  natural  philosoph}',  though  introduced  with  a  quib- 
ble, is  extremely  just.  For  the  natural  philosopher  is  indeed  as 
ignorant  (notwithstanding  all  his  parade  of  knowledge)  of  the 
efficient  cause  of  things,  as  the  rustic.  It  appears,  from  a  thou- 
sand instances,  that  our  poet  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
physicks  of  his  time ;  and  his  great  penetration  enabled  him  to 
see  this  remediless  defect  of  it.     Warburton. 

Shakspeare  is  responsible  for  the  qidbble  only,  let  the  com- 
mentator answer  for  the  refinement.     Steevens. 

The  Clown  calls  Corin  a  natural  philosopher,  because  he  rea- 
sons from  his  observations  on  nature.     M.  Mason. 

A  natural  being  a  common  term  for  a  fool,  Touchstone,  per- 
haps, means  to  quibble  on  the  word.  He  may  however  only 
mean,  that  Corin  is  a  self-taught  philosopher ;  the  disciple  of 
nature.     Malone. 

•  like  an  ill-roasted  egg,"]  Of  this  jest  I  do  not  fully  com- 
the  meaning.    Johnson. 


prehend 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  85 

Cor.  For  not  being  at  court  ?  Your  reason. 

Touch.  Why,  if  thou  never  wast  at  court,  thou 
never  saw'st  good  manners  ;  if  thou  never  saw'st 
good  manners,  then  thy  manners  must  be  wicked ; 
and  wickedness  is  sin,  and  sin  is  damnation  :  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. 

Touch.  Why,  do  not  your  courtier's  hands  sweat  ? 
and  is  not  the  grease  of  a  mutton  as  wholesome  as 
the  sweat  of  a  man  ?  Shallow,  shallow :  A  better 
instance,  I  say ;  come. 

There  is  a  proverb,  that  a  fool  is  the  best  roaster  of  an  eggy 
because  he  is  always  turning  it.  This  will  explain  how  an  egg 
may  be  damn'd  all  on  one  side ;  but  will  not  sufficiently  show 
how  Touchstone  applies  his  simile  with  propriety;  unless  he 
means  that  he  who  has  not  been  at  court  is  but  half  educated. 

Steevens. 

I  believe  there  was  nothing  intended  in  the  corresponding  part 
of  the  simile,  to  answer  to  the  words,  "  all  on  one  side."  Shak- 
speare's  similes  (as  has  been  already  observed)  hardly  ever  run 
on  four  feet.  Touchstone,  I  apprehend,  only  means  to  say,  that 
Corin  is  completely  damned ;  as  irretrievably  destroyed  as  an 
egg  that  is  utterly  spoiled  in  the  roasting,  by  being  done  all  on 
one  side  only.  So,  in  a  subsequent  scene,  "  and  both  in  a  tune, 
like  two  gypsies  on  a  horse."  Here  the  poet  certainly  meant 
that  the  speaker  and  his  companion  should  sing  in  unison,  and 
thus  resemble  each  other  as  perfectly  as  two  gypsies  on  a  horse  ; 
not  that  two  gypsies  on  a  horse  sing  both  in  a  tune.     Malone. 


3G  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  actiil 

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  tarr'd  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.  Mend 
the  instance,  shepherd. 

Cor.  You  have  too  courtly  a  wit  for  me;  I'll 
rest. 

Touch.  Wilt  thou  rest  damn'd  ?  God  help  thee, 
shallow  man !  God  make  incision  in  thee ! 5  thou 
art  raw.6 

* make  incision  in  thee  f]  To  make  incision  was  a  pro- 
verbial expression  then  in  vogue  for,  to  make  to  understand. 
So,  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Humorous  Lieutenant  : 

" O  excellent  king, 

"  Thus  he  begins,  thou  life  and  light  of  creatures, 
"  Angel-ey'd  king,  vouchsafe  at  length  thy  favour ; 

"  And  so  proceeds  to  incision" . 

i.  e.  to  make  him  understand  what  he  would  be  at. 

Warburton. 
Till  I  read  Dr.  Warburton's  note,  I  thought  the  allusion  had 
been  to  that  common  expression,  of  cutting  suck  a  one  for  the 
simples ;  and  I  must  own,  after  consulting  the  passage  in  the 
Humorous  Lieutenant,  I  have  no  reason  to  alter  my  supposition. 
The  editors  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  declare  the  phrase  to  be 
unintelligible  in  that,  as  well  as  in  another  play  where  it  is  in- 
troduced. 

I  find  the  same  expression  in  Monsieur  Thomas : 

"  We'll  bear  the  burthen :  proceed  to  incision,  fidler." 
Again,  (as  I  learn  from  a  memorandum  of  my  late  friend, 
Dr.  Farmer,)  in  The  Times  Whistle,  or  a  new  Daunce  of  Seven 
Satires :  MS.  about  the  end  of  Queen  Elii.  by  R.  C.  Gent,  now 
at  Canterbury :  The  Prologue  ends — 


sen.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  87 

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 ;  to 
bring  the  ewes  and  the  rams  together,  and  to  offer 
to  get  your  living  by  the  copulation  of  cattle :  to 
be  bawd  to  a  bell-wether ; 7  and  to  betray  a  she- 
lamb  of  a  twelvemonth,  to  a  crooked-pated,  old, 
cuckoldly  ram,  out  of  all  reasonable  match.  If 
thou  be'st  not  damn'd  for  this,  the  devil  himself 
will  have  no  shepherds  j  I  cannot  see  else  how  thou 
shouldst  'scape. 

Cor.  Here  comes  young  master  Ganymede,  my 
new  mistress's  brother. 


*e  Be  stout  my  heart,  my  hand  be  firm  and  steady  ; 

*'  Strike,  and  strike  home,*— the  vaine  worldes  vaine  is 

ready : 
"  Let  ulcer'd  limbes  &  goutie  humors  quake, 
"  Whilst  with  my  pen  I  doe  incision  make."     Steevens. 

I  believe  that  Steevens  has  explained  this  passage  justly,  and 
am  certain  that  Warburton  has  entirely  mistaken  the  meaning 
of  that  which  he  has  quoted  from  The  Humorous  Lieutenant, 
which  plainly  alludes  to  the  practice  of  the  young  gallants  of 
the  time,  who  used  to  cut  themselves  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
make  their  blood  flow,  in  order  to  show  their  passion  for  their 
mistresses,  by  drinking  their  healths,  or  writing  verses  to  them 
in  blood.  For  a  more  full  explanation  of  this  custom,  see  a  note 
on  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii.     M.  Mason. 

6  ■  ■  thou  art  raw.]  i.  e.  thou  art  ignorant;  unexperienced. 
So,  in  Hamlet :  "  — and  yet  but  raw  neither,  in  respect  of  his 
quick  sail."     Malone. 

7 baxud  to  a  bell-wether;]  Wether  and  ram  had  anciently 

the  same  meaning.    Johnson. 


88  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  actiil 


Enter  Rosalind,  reading  a  paper. 

Ros.  From  the  east  to  western  Ind, 
No  jewel  is  like  Rosalind. 
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.9 

Touch.  I'll  rhyme  you  so,  eight  years  together; 
dinners,  and  suppers,  and  sleeping  hours  excepted: 
it  is  the  right  butter- woman's  rank  to  market.1 


8 fairest  lin'd,]   i.  e.   most  fairly  delineated.      Modern 

editors  read — limn*d,  but  without  authority,  from  the  ancient 
copies.     Steevens. 

•  But  the  fair  of  Rosalind.]  Thus  the  old  copy.  Fair  is 
beauty,  complexion.  See  the  notes  on  a  passage  in  The  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,  Act  I.  sc.  i.  and  The  Comedy  of  Errors, 
Act  II.  sc.  i.  The  modern  editors  read — the  face  of  Rosalind. 
Lodge's  Novel  will  likewise  support  the  ancient  reading : 

"  Then  muse  not,  nymphes,  though  I  bemone 

a  The  absence  of  fair  Rosalynde, 

"  Since  forher/asre  there  is  fairer  none,"  &c. 
Again : 

"  And  hers  thefaire  which  all  men  do  respect." 

Steevens. 

Face  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Pope.     Malone. 

1 rank  to  market,']  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — rate  to  market. 

Johnson. 

Dr.  Grey,  as  plausibly,  proposes  to  read — rant.  "  Gyll 
brawled  like  a  buttcr-tvhore,,t  is  a  line  in  an  ancient  medley. 
The  sense  designed,  however,  might  have  been — "  it  is  such 
wretched  rhyme  as  the  butter-woman  sings  as  she  is  riding  to 
market."  So,  in  Churchyard's  Charge,  1580,  p.  7: 
"  And  use  akinde  ofridynge  rime — ." 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  89 

Ros.  Out,  fool! 

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  sowrest  rind, 

Such  a  nut  is  Rosalind. 

He  that  sweetest  rose  will  find, 

Must  find  love's  prick,  and  Rosalind. 

Again,  in  his  Farewell  from  the  Courte  : 
"  A  man  maie,"  says  he 

" use  a  kinde  of  ridyng  rime 

"  To  sutche  as  wooll  not  let  me  clime." 
Ratt-ryme>  however,  in  Scotch,  signifies  some  verse  repeated  by 
rote.     See  Ruddiman's  Glossary  to  G.  Douglas's  Virgil. 

Steevens. 
The  Clown  is  here  speaking  in  reference  to  the  ambling  pace 
of  the  metre,  which,  after  giving  a  specimen  of,  to  prove  his 
assertion,  he  affirms  to  be  "  the  very  false  gallop  of  verses." 

Henley. 

I  am  now  persuaded  that  Sir  T.  Hanmer's  emendation  is  right. 

The  hobbling  metre  of  these  verses,  (says  Touchstone,)  is  like 

the  ambling,  shtiffling  pace  of  a  butter-woman's  horse,  going  to 

market.     The  same  kind  of  imagery  is  found  in  K.  Henry  IV. 

"  And  that  would  set  my  teeth  nothing  on  edge, 

"  Nothing  so  much,  as  mincing  poetry ; 

"  *Tis  like  the  fore  d  gait  of  a  shuffling  nag."     Malone 

"  The  right  butter-woman's  rank  to  market"  means  the  jog- 
trot rate  (as  it  is  vulgarly  called)  with  which  butter-women 
uniformly  travel  one  after  another  in  their  road  to  market :  in 
its  application  to  Orlando's  poetry,  it  means  a  set  or  string  of 
verses  in  the  same  coarse  cadence  and  vulgar  uniformity  qfrythm. 

Whiter. 


yo  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ///. 

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.  I'll  graft*  it  with  you,  and  then  I  shall  grafF 
it  with  a  medlar :  then  it  will  be  the  earliest  fruit 3 
in  the  country:  for  you'll  be  rotten  e'er  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  Celia,  reading  a  paper. 

Ros.  Peace! 
Here  comes  my  sister,  reading ;  stand  aside. 

*  This  is  the  very  false  gallop  of  verses;]  So,  in  Nashe's 
Apologie  of  Pierce  Pennilesse,  4to,  1593:  "  I  would  trot  a.  false 
gallop  through  the  rest  of  his  ragged  verses,  but  that  if  I  should 
retort  the  rime  doggrell  aright,  I  must  make  my  verses  (as  he 
doth  his)  run  hobbling,  like  a  brewer's  cart  upon  the  stones,  and 
observe  no  measure  in  their  feet."     Malone. 

* the  earliest  fruit — ]    Shakspeare  seems  to  have  had 

little  knowledge  in  gardening.     The  medlar  is  one  of  the  latest 
fruits,  being  uneatable  till  the  end  of  November.     Steevens. 


sc.  il  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  91 

Cel.  Why  should  this  desert  silent  be?* 

For  it  is  unpeopled?  No; 
Tongues  I'll  hang  on  every  tree, 

That  shall  civil  sayings  show.b 
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, 


*  Why  should  this  desert  silent  be?~\  This  is  commonly 
printed : 

Why  should  this  a  desert  be  ? 
But  although  the  metre  may  be  assisted  by  this  correction,  the 
sense  still  is  defective  ;  for  how  will  the  hanging  of  tongues  on 
every  tree,  make  it  less  a  desert  ?  I  am  persuaded  we  ought  to 
read: 

Why  should  this  desert  silent  be?     Tyrwhitt. 

The  notice  which  this  emendation  deserves,  I  have  paid  to  it, 
by  inserting  it  in  the  text.     Steevens. 

*  That  shall  civil  sayings  shotv.~\  Civil  is  here  used  in  the  same 
sense  as  when  we  say  civil  wisdom  or  civil  life,  in  opposition  to 
a  solitary  state,  or  to  the  state  of  nature.  This  desert  shall  not 
appear  unpeopled,  for  every  tree  shall  teach  the  maxims  or  in- 
cidents of  social  life.     Johnson. 

Civil,  I  believe,  is  not  designedly  opposed  to  solitary.  It 
means  only  grave,  or  solemn.  So,  in  Twelfth- Night,  Act  III. 
sc.  iv : 

"  Where  is  Malvolio  ?  he  is  sad  and  civil." 
i.  e.  grave  and  demure. 

Again,  in  A  Womaii's  Prize,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 
"  That  fourteen  yards  of  satin  give  my  woman ; 
"  I  do  not  like  the  colour ;  'tis  too  civil.'"     Steevens. 


92  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Will  I  Rosalinda  write; 

Teaching  all  that  read,  to  Icnow 
The  quintessence  of  every  sprite 

Heaven  would  in  little  show.6 
Therefore  heaven  nature  charg'd7 

That  one  body  should  be  JtlVd 
With  all  graces  wide  enlarg'd  : 

Natui%e  presently  distilVd 
Helen* s  cheek,  but  not  her  heart; 

Cleopatra's  majesty  ; 
Atalanta*  s  better  part  ;8 

Sad <J  Lucretiafs  modesty. 

8 in  little  shoiu.]  The  allusion  is  to  a  miniature-portrait. 

The  current  phrase  in  our  author's  time  was  "  painted  in  little." 

Malone. 

So,  in  Hamlet :  "  — a  hundred  ducats  a-piece,  for  his  picture 
in  little"     Steevens. 

7  Therefore  heaven  nature  charg'd — ]  From  the  picture  of 
Apelles,  or  the  accomplishments  of  Pandora. 

HavSwpyv  on  •aa.vlsi  'QXupntia.  foo^ar'  v/ovles 

Acugov  sScupycray. 

So,  before : 


But  thou 


"  So  perfect,  and  so  peerless,  art  created 

"  Of  every  creature's  best."     Tempest. 
Perhaps  from  this  passage  Swift  had  his  hint  of  Biddy  Floyd. 

Johnson. 
8  Atalanta's  better  part ;]  I  know  not  well  what  could  be  the 
better  part  of  Atalanta  here  ascribed  to  Rosalind.  Of  the  Ata- 
lanta  most  celebrated,  and  who  therefore  must  be  intended  here 
where  she  has  no  epithet  of  discrimination,  the  better  part  seems 
to  have  been  her  heels,  and  the  worse  part  was  so  bad  that  Rosa- 
lind would  not  thank  her  lover  for  the  comparison.  There  is  a 
more  obscure  Atalanta,  a  huntress  and  a  heroine,  but  of  her 
nothing  bad  is  recorded,  and  therefore  I  know  not  which  was  her 
better  part.  Shakspeare  was  no  despicable  mythologist,  yet 
he  seems  here  to  have  mistaken  some  other  character  for  that  of 
Atalanta.    Johnson. 

Perhaps  the  poet  means  her  beauty  and  graceful  elegance  of 
shape,  which  he  would  prefer  to  her  swiftness.     Thus  Ovid : 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  It.  93 

Thus  Rosalind  of  many  parts 
By  heavenly  synod  was  devis'd; 

Of  many  faces,  eyes,  and  hearts, 
To  have  the  touches1  dearest  priz9 d. 

■  nee  dicere  posses, 


"  Laude  pedum,  formcene  bono  prcestantior  esset. 

"  Utjaciem,  et  posito  corpus  velamine  vidit, 

"  Obstupuit ." 

But  cannot  Atalanta's  better  part  mean  her  virtue  or  virgin 
chastity,  with  which  nature  had  graced  Rosalind,  together  with 
Helen's  beauty  without  her  heart  or  lewdness,  with  Cleopatra's 
dignity  of  behaviour,  and  with  Lucretia's  modesty,  that  scorned 
to  survive  the  loss  of  honour?  Pliny's  Natural  History,  B.XXXV. 
c.  iii.  mentions  the  portraits  of  Atalanta  and  Helen,  utraque  ex- 
cellentissima  forma,  sed  altera  ut  virgo ;  that  is,  "both  of  them 
for  beauty,  incomparable,  and  yet  a  man  may  discerne  the  one 
[Atalanta]  of  them  to  be  a  maiden,  for  her  modest  and  chaste 
countenance,"  as  Dr.  P.  Holland  translated  the  passage;  of 
which  probably  our  poet  had  taken  notice,  for  surely  he  had 
judgment  in  painting.     Tollet. 

I  suppose  Atalanta's  better  part  is  her  wit,  i.  e.  the  swiftness  of 
her  mind.     Farmer. 

Shakspeare  might  have  taken  part  of  this  enumeration  of  dis- 
tinguished females  from  John  Grange's  Golden  Aphroditis,  1577 : 
"  —  who  seemest  in  my  sight  faire  Helen  of  Troy,  Polixene, 
Calliope,  yea  Atalanta  hir  selfe  in  beauty  to  surpasse,  Pandora 
in  qualities,  Penelope  and  Lucretia  in  chastenesse  to  deface." 
Again,  ibid: 

"  Polixene  fayre,  Caliop,  and 
"  Penelop  may  give  place  ; 
"  Atlanta  and  dame  Lucres  fayre 
"  She  doth  them  both  deface." 
Again,  ibid:  "  Atalanta  who  sometyme  bore  the  bell  of  beauties 
price  in  that  hyr  native  soyle." 

It  may  be  observed,  that  Statius  also,  in  his  sixth  Thebaid,  has 
confounded  Atalanta  the  wife  of  Hippomenes,  and  daughter  of 
Siconeus,  with  Atalanta  the  daughter  of  (Enomaus,  and  wife  of 
Pelops.     See  v.  564.     Steevens. 

Dr.  Farmer's  explanation  may  derive  some  support  from  a 
subsequent  passage  :  **  —  as  swift  a  wit  as  Atalanta's  heels." 

Maloke. 


I*  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  actut. 

Heaven  would  tliat  she  these  gifts  should  have, 
And  I  to  live  and  die  her  slave. 


I  think  this  stanza  was  formed  on  an  old  tetrastick  epitaph , 
which,  as  I  have  done,  Mr.  Steevens  may  possibly  have  read  in 
a  country  church-yard : 

"  She  who  is  dead  and  sleepeth  in  this  tomb, 

"  Had  Rachel's  comely  face,  and  Leah's  fruitful  womb : 

"  Sarah's  obedience,  Lydia's  open  hearty 

"  And  Martha's  care,  and  Mary's  better  part." 

Wh  ALLEY. 

The  following  passage  in  Marston's  Insatiate  Countesse,  1613, 
might  lead  one  to  suppose  that  Atalanta's  better  part  was  her 
lips : 

" That  eye  was  Juno's ; 

**  Those  lips  were  her's  that  won  the  golden  ball; 
"  That  virgin  blush  Diana's." 
Be  this  as  it  may,  these  lines  show  that  Atalanta  was  considered 
as  uncommonly  beautiful,  and  therefore  may  serve  to  support 
Mr.  Toilet's  first  interpretation. 

It  is  observable  that  the  story  of  Atalanta  in  the  tenth  Book 
of  Ovid's  Metamorphosis  is  interwoven  with  that  of  Venus  and 
Adonis,  which  our  author  had  undoubtedly  read.  The  lines  most 
material  to  the  present  point  run  thus  in  Golding's  translation, 
1567: 

"  She  overcame  them  out  of  doubt ;  and  hard  it  is  to 

tell 
"  Thee,  whether  she  did  in  footemanshippe  or  beautie 
more  excell." 

*• he  did  condemne  the  young  men's  love.     But 

when 
"  He  saw  her  face  and  body  bare,  (for  why,  the  lady 

then 
"  Did  strip  her  to  her  naked  skin,)  the  which  was  like  to 

mine, 
"  Or  rather,  if  that  thou  wast  made  a  woman,  like  to 

thine, 
"  He  was  amaz'd." 

" And  though  that  she 

"  Did  flie  as  swift  as  arrow  from  a  Turkie  bow,  yet  hee 
"  More  wondered  at  her  beautie,  then  at  swiftnesse  of  her 

pace ; 
"  Her  running  greatly  did  augment  her  beautie  and  her 
grace."     Malone. 


sc. ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  95 

Ros.  O  most  gentle  Jupiter ! — what  tedious  ho- 
mily of  love  have  you  wearied  your  parishioners 
withal,  and  never  cry' &,  Have  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. 

[Exeunt  Corin  and  Touchstone. 

Cel.  Didst  thou  hear  these  verses  ? 

Ros.  O,  yes,  I  heard  them  all,  and  more  too  j 
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 


The  passage  quoted  by  Mr.  Malone  from  Marston's  Insatiate 
Countess,  has  no  reference  to  the  ball  of  Atalanta,  but  to  the 

f  olden  apple  which  was  adjudged  to  Venus  by  Paris,  on  Mount 
da. 

After  all,  I  believe,  that  "  Atalanta's  better  pari"  means  only 
— the  best  part  about  her,  such  as  was  most  commended. 

Steevens. 


9  Sad — ]  Is  grave,  sober,  not  light.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing:  "  She  is  never  sad  but  when 
ie  sleeps.'*     Steevens. 

1  the  touches — ]     The  features;   les  traits. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  King  Richard  III : 

"  Madam,  I  have  a  touch  of  your  condition." 

Steevens. 


96  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  m. 

how  thy  name  should  be  hang'd  and  carved  upon 
these  trees  ? 

Ros.  I  was  seven  of  the  nine  days  out  of  the 
wonder,  before  you  came ;  for  look  here  what  I 
found  on  a  palm-tree  : 2  I  was  never  so  be-rhymed 
since  Pythagoras'  time,  that  I  was  an  Irish  rat,3 
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  ? 

Ros.  I  pr'ythee,  who  ? 

Cel.  O  lord,  lord !  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  friends 


* a  palm-tree :]  A  palm-tree,  in  the  forest  of  Arden,  is  as 

much  out  of  its  place,  as  the  lioness  in  a  subsequent  scene. 

Steevens. 

s /  tvas  never  so  be-rhymed  since  Pythagoras*  time,  that 

I  tvas  an  Irish  rat,]  Rosalind  is  a  very  learned  lady.  She  alludes 
to  the  Pythagorean  doctrine,  which  teaches  that  souls  transmi- 
grate from  one  animal  to  another,  and  relates  that  in  his  time 
she  was  an  Irish  rat,  and  by  some  metrical  charm  was  rhymed  to 
death.  The  power  of  killing  rats  with  rhymes  Donne  mentions 
in  his  Satires,  and  Temple  in  his  Treatises.  Dr.  Grey  has  pro- 
duced a  similar  passage  from  Randolph : 

« My  poets 

**  Shall  with  a  satire,  stcep'd  in  gall  and  vinegar, 
"  Rhyme  them  to  death  as  they  do  rats  in  Ireland." 

Johnson. 

So,  in  an  address  to  the  reader  at  the  conclusion  of  Ben  Jon- 
son's  Poetaster  : 

"  Rhime  them  to  death,  as  they  do  Irish  rats 
"  In  drumming  tunes."     Steevens. 

So,  in  The  Defence  of  Poesie,  by  our  author's  contemporary, 
Sir  Philip  Sidney :  "  Though  I  will  not  wish  unto  you — to  be 
driven  by  a  poet's  verses,  as  Rubonax  was,  to  hang  yourself, 
nor  to  be  rimed  to  death,  as  is  said  to  be  done  in  Ireland — ." 

Malone. 


sc.  il  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  97 

to  meet;4  but  mountains  may  be  removed  with 
earthquakes,  and  so  encounter.5 

Ros.  Nay,  but  who  is  it  ? 

Cel.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Ros.  Nay,  I  pray  thee  now,  with  most  petition- 
ary 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!6 

Ros.  Good  my  complexion!7  dost  thou  think, 

4  friends  to  meet ;]    Alluding  ironically  to  the  proverb  : 

"  Friends  may  meet,  but  mountains  never  greet." 
See  Ray's  Collection.     Steevens. 

4  but  mountains  maybe  removed  "with  earthquakes,  and 

so  encounter.]  "  Montes  duo  inter  se  concurrerunt,"  &c.  says 
Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  Lib.  II.  c.  lxxxiii.  or  in  Holland's  transla- 
tion: "  Two  hills  (removed  by  an  earthquake)  encountered  to- 
gether, charging  as  it  were,  and  with  violence  assaulting  one 
another,  and  retyring  again  with  a  most  mighty  noise." 

Tollet. 

• .  out  of  all  whooping!]  i.  e.  out  of  all  measure,  or 

reckoning.  So,  in  the  old  ballad  of  Yorke,  Yorkefor  my  Money, 
&c.  1584: 

"  And  then  was  shooting,  out  of  cry, 

"  The  skantling  at  a  handful  nie." 
Again,  in  the  old  bl.  1.  comedy  called  Common  Conditions : 

"  I  have  beraed  myself  out  of  cry."     Steevens. 

This  appears  to  have  been  a  phrase  of  the  same  import  as 
mother  formerly  in  use,  "  out  of  all  cry."  The  latter  seems  to 
allude  to  the  custom  of  giving  notice  by  a  crier  of  things  to  be 
sold.  So,  in  A  Chaste  Maide  of  Cheapside,  a  comedy,  by  T. 
Middleton,  1630 :  "  I'll  sell  all  at  an  outcry ."     Malone. 

An  outcry  is  still  a  provincial  term  for  an  auction. 

Steevens. 

7  Good  my  complexion  /]  This  is  a  mode  of  expression,  Mr. 
Theobald  says,  which  he  cannot  reconcile  to  common  sense.  Like 
enough  :  and  so  too  the  Oxford  editor.  But  the  meaning  is — 
Hold  good  my  complexion,  i.  e.  let  me  not  blush. 

Warburton. 
VOL.  VIII.  H 


98  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  m. 

though  I  am  caparison'd  like  a  man,  I  have  a  doub- 
let and  hose  in  my  disposition  ?  One  inch  of  delay 
more  is  a  South-sea-off  discovery.8  I  pr'ythee,  tell 

Good  my  complexion  /]  My  native  character,  my  female  in- 
quisitive disposition,  canst  thou  endure  this  ! — For  thus  charac- 
terizing the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  creation,  let  our  author 
answer.     Malone. 

Good  my  complexion  !  is  a  little  unmeaning  exclamatory  ad- 
dress to  her  beauty  ;  in  the  nature  of  a  small  oath.     Ritson. 

*  One  inch  of  delay  more  is  a  South-sea-off'  discovery."]  The 
old  copy  reads — is  a  South-sea  of  discover ie.     Steevens. 

This  is  stark  nonsense  ;  we  must  read — off  discovery,  i.  e. 

from  discovery.     "  If  you  delay  me  one  inch  of  time  longer,  I 

shall  think  this  secret  as  far  from  discovery  as  the  South-sea  is." 

Warburton. 

This  sentence  is  rightly  noted  by  the  commentator  as  non- 
sense, but  not  so  happily  restored  to  sense.     I  read  thus: 

One  inch  of  delay  more  is  a  South-sea.  Discover,  I  pr'ythee; 
tell  me  who  is  it  quickly  ! — When  the  transcriber  had  once  made 
discovery  from  discover  I,  he  easily  put  an  article  after  South- 
sea.  But  it  may  be  read  with  still  less  change,  and  with  equal 
probability — Every  inch  of  delay  more  is  a  South-sea  discovery: 
Every  delay,  however  short,  is  to  me  tedious  and  irksome  as 
the  longest  voyage,  as  a  voyage  of  discovery  on  the  South-sea. 
How  much  voyages  to  the  South-sea  on  which  the  English  had 
then  first  ventured,  engaged  the  conversation  of  that  time,  may 
be  easily  imagined.     Johnson. 

Of  for  off,  is  frequent  in  the  elder  writers.  A  South  sea  of 
discovery  is  a  discovery  a  South-sea  off'- — as  far  as  the  South-sea. 

Fakmer. 

Warburton's  sophistication  ought  to  tiave  been  reprobated, 
and  the  old,  which  is  the  only  reading  that  can  preserve  the 
sense  of  Rosalind,  restored.  A  South-sea  of  discovery,  is  not  a 
discovery,  as  far  off,  but  as  comprehensive  as  the  South- 
sea  ;  which,  being  the  largest  in  the  world,  affords  the  widefct 
scope  for  exercising  curiosity.     Henley. 

On  a  further  consideration  of  this  passage  I  am  strongly  in- 
clined to  think,  with  Dr.  Johnson,  that  we  should  read  a  South- 
sea  discovery.  "  Delay,  however  short,  is  to  me  tedious  and 
irksome  as  the  longest  voyage,  as  a  voyage  of  discovery  on  the 
South-Sea."  The  word  of,  which  had  occurred  just  before, 
might  have  been  inadvertently  repeated  by  the  compositor. 

Malone. 


sc.  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  99 

me,  who  is  it?  quickly,  and  speak  apace:  I  would 
thou  couldst  stammer,  that  thou  might'st  pour  this 
concealed  man  out  of  thy  mouth,  as  wine  comes 
out  of  a  narrow-mouth'd  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. 

Cel.  So  you  may  put  a  man  in  your  belly. 

JRos.  Is  he  of  God's  making?  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,  God  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  tripp'd  up  the 
wrestler's  heels,  and  your  heart,  both  in  an  instant. 

Ros.  Nay,  but  the  devil  take  mocking ;  speak 
sad  brow,  and  true  maid.9 

Cel.  Pfaith,  coz,  'tis  he. 

Ros.  Orlando? 

Cel.  Orlando. 

R os.  Alas  the  day!  what  shall  I  do  with  my 
doublet  and  hose? — What  did  he,  when- thou  saw'st 
him  ?  What  said  he  ?  How  look'd  he  ?  Wherein 
went  he?1  What  makes  he  here  ?  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. 

9  i  speak  sad  brow,  and  true  maid.]  i.  e.  speak  with  a 
grave  countenance,  and  as  truly  as  thou  art  a  virgin;  speak 
seriously  and  honestly.     Ritson. 

1  Wherein  went  he  f]  In  what  manner  was  he  clothed  ?  How 
did  he  go  dressed  ?     Heath. 

H   2 


100  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ///. 

Cel.  You  must  borrow  me  Garagantua's  mouth2 
first:  'tis  a  word  too  great  for  any  mouth  of  this 
age's  size  :  To  say,  ay,  and  no,  to  these  particu- 
lars, 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  ? 

Cel.  It  is  as  easy  to  count  atomies,3  as  to  resolve 
the  propositions  of  a  lover: — but  take  a  taste  of  my 
finding  him,  and  relish  it  with  a  good  observance. 
I  found  him  under  a  tree,  like  a  dropp'd  acorn. 

Ros.  It  may  well  be  call'd  Jove's  tree,  when  it 
drops  forth  such  fruit.4 

* Garagantua's  mouth'—']  Rosalind  requires  nine  ques- 
tions to  be  answered  in  one  word.  Celia  tells  her  that  a  word 
of  such  magnitude  is  too  big  for  any  mouth  but  that  of  Gara- 
gantua  the  giant  of  Rabelais.    Johnson. 

Garagantua  swallowed  five  pilgrims,  their  staves  and  all,  in 
a  sallad.    It  appears  from  the  books  of  the  Stationers1  Company, 
that  in  1592  was  published,  "  Garagantua  his  Prophecie."  And 
in  1594,  "  A  booke  entitled,  The  History  of  Garagantua."  The 
book  of  Garagantua  is  likewise  mentioned  in  Laneham's  Nar- 
rative of  Queen  Elizabeth's  Entertainment  at  Kenelworth-Castle, 
in  1575.    Some  translator  of  one  of  these  pieces  is  censured  by 
Hail,  in  his  second  Book  of  Satires  : 
"  But  who  conjur'd,  &c. 
**  Or  wicked  Rablais  dronken  revellings 
n  To  grace  the  misrule  of  our  tavernings  V    Steevens. 

*  to  count  atomies,]    Atomies  are  those  minute  particles 

discernible  in  a  stream  of  sunshine  that  breaks  into  a  darkened 
room.     Henley. 

"  An  atomie,  (says  Bullokar,  in  his  English  Expositor,  1616,) 
is  a  mote  flying  in  the  sunne.  Any  thing  so  small  that  it  can- 
not be  made  lesse."     Malone. 

When  it  drops  forth  s\nchfruit.~]  The  old  copy  reads — 


ivhe n  it  drops  forth  fruit.     The  word  such  was  supplied  by  the 
editor  of  the  second  folio.    I  once  suspected  the  phrase,  "  when 


sc.  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  101 

Cel.  Give  me  audience,  good  madam. 

Ros.  Proceed. 

Cel.  There  lay  he,  stretch'd  along,  like  a 
wounded  knight. 

Ros.  Though  it  be  pity  to  see  such  a  sight,  it 
well  becomes  the  ground.5 

Cel.  Cry,  holla!  to  thy  tongue,6  I  pr'ythee  ;  it 
curvets  very  unseasonably.  He  was  furnish'd  like 
a  hunter. 

Ros.  O  ominous!  he  comes  to  kill  my  heart.* 

it  Aropsjbrth,"  to  be  corrupt ;  but  it  is  certainly  our  author's^ 
for  it  occurs  again  in  this  play : 

** woman's  gentle  brain 

"  Could  not  drop  forth  such  giant-rude  invention." 
This  passage  serves  likewise  to  support  the  emendation  that  has 
been  made.     M alone. 

s  such  a  sight,  it  well  becomes  the  ground.]     So,    in 

Hamlet : 

" Such  a  sight  as  this 

"  Becomes  the  field," Steevens. 

*  Cry,  holla .'  to  thy  tongue,]  The  old  copy  has — the  tongue. 

Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Holla  was  a  term  of  the  manege,  by 

which  the  rider  restrained  and  stopped  his  horse.     So,  in  our 

author's  Venus  and  Adonis  : 

"  What  recketh  he  his  rider's  angry  stir, 
*'  His  flattering  holla,  or  his  stand  I  say  ?" 

The  word  is  again  used  in  Othello,  in  the  same  sense  as  here : 
"  Holla  /  stand  there."     Malone. 

Again,  in  Cotton's  Wonders  of  the  Peak : 

"  But  I  must  give  my  muse  the  hola  here."     Reed. 

7  to  kill  my  heart.]     A  quibble  between  heart  and  hart. 

Steevens. 

Our  author  has  the  same  expression  in  many  other  places. 
So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost : 

"  Why,  that  contempt  will  kill  the  speaker's  heart." 
Again,  in  his.  Venus  and  Adonis  : 

"  — —  they  have  murder  d  this  poor  heart  of  mine." 
But  the  preceding  word,  hunter,  shows  that  a  quibble  was  here 


102  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  hi. 

Cel.  I  would  sing  my  song  without  a  burden : 
thou  bring'st  me  out  of  tune. 

Ros.  Do  you  not  know  I  am  a  woman?  when  I 
think,  I  must  speak.     Sweet,  say  on. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Jaques. 

Cel.  You  bring  me  out: — Soft!  comes  he  not 
here? 

Ros.  'Tis  he  ;  slink  by,  and  note  him. 

[Celia  tfwrf  "Rosalind  retire. 

Jaq.  I  thank  vou  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.  God  be  with  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-fa vouredly. 

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  christen'd. 

Jaq.  What  stature  is  she  of? 

intended  between  heart  and  hart.  In  our  author's  time  the 
latter  word  was  often  written  instead  of  heart,  as  it  is  in  the 
present  instance,  in  the  old  copy  of  this  play.     Malone. 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  103 

Orl.  Just  as  high  as  my  heart. 

Jaq.  You  are  full  of  pretty  answers  :  Have  you 
not  been  acquainted  with  goldsmiths'  wives,  and 
conn'd  them  out  of  rings  ? 

Orl.  Not  so;  but  I  answer  you  right  painted 
cloth,8  from  whence  you  have  studied  your  ques- 
tions. 


§  but  I  answer  you  right  painted  cloth,]   This  alludes 

to  the  fashion  in  old  tapestry  hangings,  of  mottos  and  moral 
sentences  from  the  mouths  of  the  figures  worked  or  painted  in 
them.  The  poet  again  hints  at  this  custom,  in  his  poem,  call- 
ed,  Tarquin  aud  Lucrece  : 

**  Who  fears  a  sentence,  or  an  old  man's  saw, 

"  Shall  by  a  painted  cloth  be  kept  in  awe."    Theobald. 

So,  in  Barnaby  Riche's  Soldier's  Wishe  to  Britons  Welfare, 
or  Captaine  Skill  and  Captaine  Pill,  &c.  1604-,  p.  1  :  "  It  is 
enough  for  him  that  can  but  robbe  a  painted  cloth  of  a  historie, 
a  booke  of  a  discourse,  a  fool  of  a  fashion,  &c. 

The  same  allusion  is  common  to  many  of  our  old  plays.  So, 
in  The  Two  angry  Women  of  Abington,  1599 :  "  Now  will  I 
see  if  my  memory  will  serve  for  some  proverbs.  O,  a.  painted 
cloth  were  as  well  worth  a  shilling,  as  a  thief  is  worth  a 
halter." 

Again,  in  A  Match  at  Midnight,  1633 : 
"  There's  a  witty  posy  for  you. 
"  — No,  no  ;  I'll  have  one  shall  savour  of  a  saw. — 
"  Why  then  'twill  smell  of  the  painted  cloth." 
Again,  in  The  Muses'  Looking  Glass,  by  Randolph,  1638: 

'* I  have  seen  in  Mother  Redcap's  hall 

**  In  painted  cloth,  the  story  of  the  prodigal." 
From  this  last  quotation  we  may  suppose  that  the  rooms  in 
publick  houses  were  usually  hung  with  what  FalstafF  calls 
water-work.  On  these  hangings,  perhaps,  moral  sentences  were 
depicted  as  issuing  from  the  mouths  of  the  different  characters 
represented. 

Again,  in  Sir  Thomas  More's  English  Work?,  printed  by 
Rastell,  1557  :  "  Mays>ter  Thomas  More  in  hys  youth  devysed 
in  hys  father's  house  in  London,  a  goodly  hangyng  of  fyne 
paynted  clothe,  with  nine  pageauntes,  and  verses  over  every  of 
those  pageauntes;  which  verses  expressed  and  declared  what 
the  ymages  in  those  pageauntes  represented :  and  also  in  those 


104  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Jaq.  You  have  a  nimble  wit;  I  think  it  was 
made  of  Atalanta's  heels.  Will  you  sit  down  with 
me  ?  and  we  two  will  rail  against  our  mistress  the 
world,  and  all  our  misery. 


pageauntes  were  paynted  the  thynges  that  the  verses  over  them 
dyd  (in  eftecte)  declare." 

Of  the  present  phraseology  there  is  an  instance  in  King 
John  i 

"  He  speaks  plain  cannon-foe,  and  bounce,  and  smoke." 

Steevens. 

I  answer  you  right  painted  cloth,  may  mean,  I  give  you  a 
true  painted  cloth  answer  ;  as  we  say,  she  talks  right  Billings- 
gate :  that  is,  exactly  such  language  as  is  used  at  Billingsgate. 

Johnson. 

This  singular  phrase  may  be  justified  by  another  of  the  same 
kind  in  King  Henry  V  : 

"  I  speak  to  thee  plain  soldier.** 
Again,  in  Twelfth  - Night : 

u  He  speaks  nothing  but  madman." 
There  is  no  need  of  Sir  T.  Hanmer's  alteration  :  "  I  answer 
you  right  in  the  style  of  painted  cloth."     We  had  before  in  this 
play,  "  It  is  the  right  butter-woman's  rate  to  market."    So,  in 
Golding's  translation  of  Ovid,  1567: 

" the  look  of  it  was  right  a  maiden's  look." 

I  suppose  Orlando  means  to  say,  that  Jaques's  questions  have 
no  more  of  novelty  or  shrewdness  in  them  than  the  trite  maxims 
of  the  painted  cloth.  The  following  lines,  which  are  found  in  a 
book  with  this  fantastick  title, — No  whipping  nor  tripping,  but 
a  kind  of  friendly  snipping,  octavo,  1601,  may  serve  as  a  speci* 
men  of  painted  cloth  language  : 

*'  Read  what  is  written  on  the  painted  cloth  : 

"  Do  no  man  wrong;  be  good  unto  the  poor ; 

"  Beware  the  mouse,  the  maggot  and  the  moth, 

"  And  ever  have  an  eye  unto  the  door ; 

'*  Trust  not  a  fool,  a  villain,  nor  a  whore  ; 

"  Go  neat,  not  gay,  and  spend  but  as  you  spare  ; 

*'  And  turn  the  colt  to  pasture  with  the  mare ;"  &c. 
That  moral  sentences  were  wrought  in  these  painted  cloths, 
is  ascertained  by  the  following  passage  in  A  Dialogue  both 
pleasaunt  and  pitifull,  &c.  by  Dr.  Willyam  Bulleyne,  1564, 
(sign.  H  5.)  which  has  been  already  quoted:  "  This  is  a  comelie 
parlour, —  and  faire  clothes,  with  pleasaunte  borders  aboute  the 
same,  with  many  wise  sayings  painted  upon  them."      Malone, 


sc.  u.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  105 

Orl.  I  will  chide  no  breather  in  the  world,9  but 
Jnyself;  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.     I  am  weary  of  you. 

Jaq.  By  my  troth,  I  was  seeking  for  a  fool,  when 
I  found  you. 

Orl.  He  is  drown'd  in  the  brook ;  look  but  in, 
and  you  shall  see  him. 

Jaq.  There  shall  I  see  mine  own  figure. 

Orl.  Which  I  take  to  be  either  a  fool,  or  a  cy- 
pher. 

Jaq.  I'll  tarry  no  longer  with  you  :  farewell, 
good  signior  love. 

Orl.  I  am  glad  of  your  departure ;  adieu,  good 
monsieur  melancholy. 

[Exit  Jaques. — Celia  and  Rosalind 
come  forward. 

Ros.  I  will  speak  to  him  like  a  saucy  lacquey,  and 
under  that  habit  play  the  knave  with  him. — Do  you 
hear,  forester  ? 

Orl.  Very  well ;  What  would  you  ? 

Ros.  I  pray  you,  what  is't  a  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, 

9 no  breather  in  the  world,]    So,  in  our  author's  8 J*st 

Sonnet: 

i(  When  all  the  breathers  of  this  world  are  dead." 
Again,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 

"  She  shows  a  body,  rather  than  a  life; 

f  A  statue,  than  a  breather."     Malone, 


106  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

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  ? 

Ros.  By  no  means,  sir :  Time  travels  in  divers 
paces  with  divers  persons :  I'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,1  and  the  day 
it  is  solemnized  :  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  ? 

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 


1  Marry,  he  trots  hard  tvith  a  young  maid,  between  the  con- 
tract &c]  And  yet,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  our  author 
tells  us,  "  Time  goes  on  crutches,  till  love  hath  all  his  rites.'' 
In  both  passages,  however,  the  interim  is  equally  represented  as 
tedious.    Ma  lone. 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  107 

between  term  and  term,  and  then  they  perceive  not 
how  time  moves. 

Orl.  Where  dwell  you,  pretty  youth  ? 

Ros.  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  removed2  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  in-land  man  ;3  one  that 
knew  courtship  too  well,  for  there  he  fell  in  love. 
I  have  heard  him  read  many  lectures  against  it; 
and  I  thank  God,  I  am  not  a  woman,  to  be  touch'id 
with  so  many  giddy  offences  as  he  hath  generally 
tax'd  their  whole  sex  withal. 

Orl.  Can  you  remember  any  of  the  principal 
evils,  that  he  laid  to  the  charge  of  women  ? 

* removed  — ]  i.  e.  remote,  sequestered.     Reed. 

So,  in  A  Midsummer- Night's  Dream,  folio,  1623: 

"  From  Athens  is  her  house  removed  seven  leagues." 

Steevens. 

* in-land  man  ;]    Is  used  in  this  play  for  one  civilised,  in 

opposition  to  the  rustick  of  the  priest.     So,  Orlando,  before : 
"  Yet  am  I  inland  bred,  and  know  some  nurture."     Johnson. 

See  Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander,  1598 : 

"  His  presence  made  the  rudest  peasant  melt, 
"  That  in  the  vast  uplandish  countrie  dwelt." 
Again,  in  Puttenham's  Arte  of  Poesie,  4to.  1589,  fol.  120: 
*'  — or  finally  in  any  uplandish  village  or  corner  of  a  realm, 
where  is  no  resort  but  of  poor  rusticall  or  uncivill  people." 

Malone. 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  24-th  Iliad : 

" but  lion-like,  uplandish,  and  meere  wilde." 

Steevens. 


108  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act nt. 

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  physick,  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  haw- 
thorns, and  elegies  on  brambles ;  all,  forsooth, 
deifying  the  name  of  Rosalind:  if  I  could  meet 
that  fancv-monger,  I  would  give  him  some  good 
counsel,  for  he  seems  to  have  the  quotidian  of  love 
upon  him. 

Orl.  I  am  he  that  is  so  love-shaked  ;  I  pray  you, 
tell  me  your  remedy. 

Ros.  There  is  none  of  my  uncle's  marks  upon 
you  :  he  taught  me  how  to  know  a  man  in  love ; 
in  which  cage  of  rushes,  I  am  sure,  you  are  not 
prisoner. 

Orl.  What  were  his  marks  ? 

Ros.  A  lean  cheek ;  which  you  have  not :  a  blue 
eye,4  and  sunken;  which  you  have  not:  an  unques- 
tionable spirit;5  which  you  have  not :  a  beard  neg- 

* a  blue  eye,]  i.  e.  a  blueness  about  the  eyes. 

Steevens. 
3 an  unquestionable  spirit;]  That  is,  a  spirit  not  in- 
quisitive, a  mind  indifferent  to  common  objects,  and  negligent 
of  common  occurrences.  Here  Shakspeare  has  used  a  passive 
for  an  active  mode  of  speech :  so,  in  a  former  scene,  "  The 
Duke  is  too  disputable  for  me,"  that  is,  too  disputatious. 

Johnson. 

May  it  not  mean,  unwilling  to  be  conversed  with? 

Chamier. 

Mr.  Chamier  is  right  in  supposing  that  it  means  a  spirit  averse 
to  conversation. 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  109 

lected ;  which  you  have  not :-— but  I  pardon  you 
for  that ;  for,  simply,  your  having 6  in  beard  is  a 
younger  brother's  revenue : — Then  your  hose 
should  be  ungarter'd/your  bonnet  unhanded,  your 
sleeve  unbuttoned,  your  shoe  untied,  and  every 
thing  about  you  demonstrating  a  careless  desola- 
tion. But  you  are  no  such  man ;  you  are  rather 
point-device 8  in  your  accoutrements ;  as  loving 
yourself,  than  seeming  the  lover  of  any  other. 


So,  in  A  Midsummer- Nights  Dream,   Demetrius   says  to 
Helena — 

"  I  will  not  stay  your  question.''* 
And,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Antonio  says — 

"  I  pray  you,  think  you  question  with  the  Jew." 
In  the  very  next  scene,  Rosalind  says — "  I  met  the  Duke  yes- 
terday, and  had  much  question  with  him."  And  in  the  last 
scene,  Jaques  de  Bois  says — "  The  Duke  was  converted  after 
some  question  with  a  religious  man."  In  all  which  places, 
question  means  discourse  or  conversation.    M.  Mason. 

6 your  having — ]  Having  is  possession,  estate.     So,  in 

The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor :  "  The  gentleman  is  of  no 
having."     Steevens. 

7 Then  your  hose  should  be  ungarter'd,  &c]    These 

seem  to  have  been  the  established  and  characteristical  marks  by 
which  the  votaries  of  love  were  denoted  in  the  time  of  Shak- 
speare.  So,  in  The  fair  Maid  qf  the  Exchange,  by  Heywood, 
1637 :  "  Shall  I,  that  have  jested  at  love's  sighs,  now  raise 
whirlwinds !  Shall  I,  that  have  flouted  ah  rue's  once  a  quarter, 
now  practise  ah  rue's  every  minute  ?  Shall  I  defy  hat-bands,  and 
tread  garters  and  shoe-strings  under  my  feet?  Shall  I  fall  to 
falling  bands,  and  be  a  ruffian  no  longer  1  I  must ;  I  am  now 
liegeman  to  Cupid,  and  have  read  all  these  informations  in  the 
book  of  his  statutes."  Again,  in  A  pleasant  Comedy  how  to 
chuse  a  good  Wife  from  a  bad,  1602: 

*' 1  was  once  like  thee 

*'  A  sigher,  melancholy  humorist, . 

"  Crosser  of  arms,  a  goer  without  garters, 

**  A  hat-band  hater,  and  a  busk-point  wearer." 

Ma  LONE. 
*——— point-device — ]  i.  e.  exact,  drest  with  finical  nicety. 
So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost:  "  I  hate  such  insociable  and  point' 
device  companions."     Steevens. 


110  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  m. 

Orl.  Fair  youth,  I  would  I  could  make  thee 
believe  I  love. 

Ros.  Me  believe  it  ?  you  may  as  soon  make  her 
that  you  love  believe  it ;  which,  I  warrant,  she  is 
apter  to  do,  than  to  confess  she  does :  that  is  one 
of  the  points  in  the  which  women  still  give  the  lie 
to  their  consciences.  But,  in  good  sooth,  are  you 
he  that  hangs  the  verses  on  the  trees,  wherein 
Rosalind  is  so  admired  ? 

Orl.  I  swear  to  thee,  youth,  by  the  white  hand 
of  Rosalind,  I  am  that  he,  that  unfortunate  he. 

Ros.  But  are  you  so  much  in  love  as  your  rhymes 
speak  ? 

Orl.  Neither  rhyme  nor  reason  can  express  how 
much. 

Ros.  Love  is  merely  a  madness ;  and,  I  tell  you, 
deserves  as  well  a  dark  house  and  a  whip,  as  mad- 
men do :  and  the  reason  why  they  are  not  so  pu- 
nished and  cured,  is,  that  the  lufiacy  is  so  ordinary, 
that  the  whippers  are  in  love  too :  Yet  I  profess 
curing  it  by  counsel. 

Orl.  Did  you  ever  cure  any  so  ? 

Ros.  Yes,  one  ;  and  in  this  manner.  He  was  to 
imagine  me  his  love,  his  mistress ;  and  I  set  him 
every  day  to  woo  me  :  At  which  time  would  I,  be- 
ing but  a  moonish  youth,9  grieve,  be  effeminate, 
changeable,longing,and  liking ;  proud,  fantastical, 
apish,  shallow,inconstant,full  of  tears, full  of  smiles; 
for  everypassion  something,and  for  no  passion  truly 
any  thing,  as  boys  and  women  are  for  the  most  part 
cattle  of  this  colour :  would  now  like  him,  now 

9 a  moonish  youth,']  i.  e.  variable.     So,  in  Romeo  and 

Juliet  : 

"  0  swear  not  by  the  moon,  th'  inconstant  moon." 

Steevens. 


sc.  u.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  ill 

loath  him ;  then  entertain  him,  then  forswear  him ; 
now  weep  for  him,  then  spit  at  him  ;  that  I  drave 
my  suitor  from  his  mad  humour  of  love,  to  a  living 
humour  of  madness  ; !  which  was,  to  forswear  the 
full  stream  of  the  world,  arid  to  live  in  a  nook 
merely  monastick:  And  thus  I  cured  him;  and  this 
way  will  I  take  upon  me  to  wash  your  liver  as  clean 
as  a  sound  sheep's  heart,2  that  there  shall  not  be 
one  spot  of  love  in't. 

Orl.  I  would  not  be  cured,  youth. 

Bos.  I  would  cure  you,  if  you  would  but  call  me 

1 to  a  living  humour  of  madness ;~\  If  this  be  the  true 

reading,  we  must  by  living  understand  lasting,  or  permanent, 
but  I  cannot  forbear  to  think  that  some  antithesis  was  intended 
which  is  now  lost ;  perhaps  the  passage  stood  thus — /  drove  my 
suitor  from  a  dying  humour  of  love  to  a  living  humour  of  mad' 
ness.  Or  rather  thus — From  a  mad  humour  of  love  to  a  loving 
humour  of  madness,  that  is,  "  from  a  madness  that  was  love,  to 
a  love  that  was  madness."  This  seems  somewhat  harsh  and 
strained,  but  such  modes  of  speech  are  not  unusual  in  our  poet; 
and  this  harshness  was  probably  the  cause  of  the  corruption. 

Johnson. 

Perhaps  we  should  read — to  a  humour  o/"loving  madness. 

Farmer. 

Both  the  emendations  appear  to  me  inconsistent  with  the 
tenour  of  Rosalind's  argument.  Rosalind  by  her  fantastick  tricks 
did  not  drive  her  suitor  either  into  a  loving  humour  of  madness, 
or  a  humour  of  loving  madness;  (in  which  he  was  originally 
without  her  aid ;)  but  she  drove  him  from  love  into  a  sequester'd 
and  melancholy  retirement.  A  living  humour  of  madness  is,  I 
conceive,  in  our  author's  licentious  language,  a  humour  of  living 
madness,  a  mad  humour  that  operates  on  the  mode  of  living;  or, 
in  other  words,  and  more  accurately,  a  mad  humour  of  life  ,•" 
"  —  to  forswear  the  world,  and  to  live  in  a  nook  merely  monas- 
tick."   Malone. 

* as  clean  as  a  sound  sheep's  heart,']  This  is  no  very  deli- 
cate comparison,  though  produced  by  Rosalind  in  her  assumed 
character  of  a  shepherd.  A  sheep's  heart,  before  it  is  drest,  is 
always  split  and  washed,  that  the  blood  within  it  may  be  dislodged. 

Stkevens. 


112  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Rosalind,  and  come  every  day  to  my  cote,  and  woo 
me. 

Orl.  Now,  by  the  faith  of  my  love,  I  will ;  tell 
me  where  it  is. 

Ros.  Go  with  me  to  it,  and  I'll  show  it  yon : 
and,  by  the  way,  you  shall  tell  me  where  in  the 
forest  you  live :  Will  you  go  ? 

Orl.  With  all  my  heart,  good  youth. 

Ros.  Nay,  you  must  call  me  Rosalind : — Come, 
sister,  will  you  go  ?  \Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  Touchstone  and  Aut/rey  ;  ■  Jaques  at.  a 
distance ,  observing  them. 

Touch.  Come  apace,  good  Audrey  ;  I  will  fetch 
up  your  goats,  Audrey :  And  how,  Audrey  ?  am  I 
the  man  yet?  Doth  my  simple  feature  content  you  ?4 

* Audrey  ;]    Is  a  corruption  of  Etheldreda.     The  saint 

of  that  name  is  so  styled  in  ancient  calendars.     Steevens. 

4  Doth  my  simple  feature  content  you?]  Says  the  Clown  to 
Audrey.  "  Your  features  I  (replies  the  wench,)  Lord  warrant 
us!  what  features?"  I  doubt  not,  this  should  be — your  feature! 
Lord  warrant  us!  what'' s  feature  ?     Farmer. 

Feat  and  feature,  perhaps,  had  anciently  the  same  meaning. 
The  Clown  asks,  if  the  features  of  his  face  content  her,  she 
takes  the  word  in  another  sense,  i.  e.  feats,  deeds,  and  in  her 
reply  seems  to  mean,  what  feats,  i.  e.  what  have  we  done  yet? 
The  courtship  of  Audrey  and  her  gallant  had  not  proceeded  fur- 
ther, as  Sir  Wilful  Witwood  says,  than  a  little  mouth-glue ;  but 
she  supposes  him  to  be  talking  of  something  which  as  yet  he  had 
not  performed.  Or  the  jest  may  turn  only  on  the  Clown's  pro- 
nunciation. In  some  varts,features  might  be  pronounced ,fai- 
tors,  which  signify  rascals,  low  wretches.  Pistol  uses  the  word 
in  The  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  IV.  and  Spenser  very  fre- 
quently.   Steevens. 


sc.m.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  m 

Aud.  Your  features!  Lord  warrant  us!  what 
features  ? 

Touch.  I  am  here  with  thee  and  thy  goats,  as 
the  most  capricious  poet,  honest  Ovid,  was  among 
the  Goths.5 

,  Jaq.   O  knowledge  ill-inhabited!6  worse  than 
Jove  in  a  thatch'd  house !  \_Aside* 

Touch.  When  a  man's  verses  cannot  be  under- 
stood, nor  a  man's  good  wit  seconded  with  the  for- 


In  Daniel's  Cleopatra,  1594,  is  the  following  couplet: 

**  I  see  then,  artless  feature  can  content, 

**  And  that  true  beauty  needs  no  ornament." 
Again,  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy  : 

"  It  is  my  fault,  not  she,  that  merits  blame ; 

"  My  feature  is  not  to  content  her  sight ; 

"  My  words  are  rude,  and  work  her  no  delight.'' 
Feature  appears  to  have  formerly  signified  the  whole  countenance. 
So,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  I : 

"  Her  peerless  feature,  joined  with  her  birth, 

"  Approves  her  fit  for  none  but  for  a  king."     Malone. 

*  as  the  most  capricious  poet,  honest  Ovid,  was  among 

the  Goths.]  Capricious  is  not  here  humoursome,  fantastical,  &c. 
but  lascivious.  Hor.  Epod.  10.  Libidinosus  immolabitur  caper. 
The  Goths  are  the  Getae.  Ovid.  Trist.  V.  7.  The  thatch? d  house 
is  that  of  Baucis  and  Philemon.  Ovid.  Met.  VIII.  630.  Stipulis 
tt  canna  tecta  palustri.     Upton. 

Mr.  Upton  is,  perhaps,  too  refined  in  his  interpretation  of 
capricious.  Our  author  remembered  that  caper  was  the  Latin 
for  a  goat,  and  thence  chose  this  epithet.  This,  I  believe,  is 
the  whole.     There  is  a  poor  quibble  between  goats  and  Goths. 

Malone. 

•  ill-inhabited  f]  i.  e.  ill-lodged.    An  unusual  sense  of 

the  word. 

A  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Re),nolds,s  God's  Revenge  against 
Murder,  Book  V.  Hist.  21 :  "  Pieria's  heart  is  not  so  ill  lodged, 
nor  her  extraction  and  quality  so  contemptible,  but  that  she  is 
very  sensible  of  her  disgrace  "  Again,  in  The  Golden  Legend, 
Wynkyn  de  Worde's  edit.  fol.  196:  "  I  am  ryghtwysnes  that 
am  enhabited  here,  and  this  hous  is  myne,  and  thou  art  not 
ryghtwyse."     Steevens. 

VOL.  VIII.  I 


n*  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in* 

ward  child,  understanding,  it  strikes  a  man  more 
dead  than  a  great  reckoning  in  a  little  room  : 7 — 
Truly,  I  would  the  gods  had  made  thee  poetical. 

Aud.  I  do  not  know  what  poetical  is:  Is  it 
honest  in  deed,  and  word  ?  Is  it  a  true  thing  ? 

Touch.  No,  truly ;  for  the  truest  poetry  is  the 
most  feigning ;  and  lovers  are  given  to  poetry ; 
and  what  they  swear  in  poetry,  may  be  said,  as 
lovers,  they  do  feign.8 

Aud.  Do  you  wish  then,  that  the  gods  had 
made  me  poetical  ? 

Touch.  I  do,  truly:  for  thou  swear'st  to  me,  thou 

7  it  strikes  a  man  more  dead  than  a  great  reckoning  in 

a  little  room  „•]  Nothing  was  ever  wrote  in  higher  humour  than 
this  simile.  A  great  reckoning,  in  a  little  room,  implies  that 
the  entertainment  was  mean,  and  the  bill  extravagant.  The 
poet  here  alluded  to  the  French  proverbial  phrase  of  the  quarter 
of  an  hour  of  Rabelais  :  who  said,  there  was  only  one  quarter 
of  an  hour  in  human  life  passed  ill,  and  that  was  between  the 
calling  for  the  reckoning  and  paying  it.  Yet  the  delicacy  of  our 
Oxford  editor  would  correct  this  into — //  strikes  a  man  more 
dead  than  a  great  reeking  in  a  little  room.  This  is  amending 
with  a  vengeance.  When  men  are  joking  together  in  a  merry 
humour,  all  are  disposed  to  laugh.  One  of  the  company  says  a 
good  thing :  the  jest  is  not  taken ;  all  are  silent,  and  he  who  said 
it,  quite  confounded.  This  is  compared  to  a  tavern  jollity  inter- 
rupted by  the  coming  in  of  a  great  reckoning.  Had  not  Shak- 
speare  reason  now  in  this  case  to  apply  his  simile  to  his  own 
case,  against  his  critical  editor  ?  Who,  it  is  plain,  taking  the 
phrase  to  strike  dead,  in  a  literal  sense,  concluded,  from  his 
knowledge  in  philosophy,  that  it  could  not  be  so  effectually  done 
by  a  reckoning  as  by  a  reeking.     Warburton. 

•  ■  and  xvhat  they  swear  in  poetry,  Sec.']     This  sentence 

seems  perplexed  and  inconsequent :  perhaps  it  were  better  read 
thus — What  they  swear  as  lovers,  they  may  be  said  to  feign  as 
poets.     Johnson. 

I  would  read — It  may  be  said,  as  lovers  they  do  feign. 

M.  Mason* 


sc.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  115 

art  honest ;  now,  if  thou  wert  a  poet,  I  might  have 
some  hope  thou  didst  feign. 

Aud.  Would  you  not  have  me  honest? 

Touch.  No  truly,  unless  thou  wert  hard-fa- 
vour'd :  for  honesty  coupled  to  beauty,  is  to  have 
honey  a  sauce  to  sugar. 

Jaq.  A  material  fool ! 9  [Aside, 

Aud.  Well,  I  am  not  fair  j  and  therefore  I  pray 
the  gods,  make  me  honest ! 

Touch.  Truly,  and  to  cast  away  honesty  upon  a 
foul  slut,  were  to  put  good  meat  into  an  unclean 
dish. 

Aud.  I  am  not  a  slut,  though  I  thank  the  gods 
I  am  foul.1 


9  A  material  fool!]  A  fool  with  matter  in  him  ;  a  fool  stocked 
with  notions.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  24th  Iliad: 

"  his  speech  even  charm'd  his  eares, 

"  So  order'd,  so  materiall. — "     Steevens. 

'  1  am  foul.]     By foul  is  meant  coy  or frowning. 

Hanmer. 

I  rather  believefoul  to  be  put  for  the  rustick  pronunciation  of 
full.  Audrey,  supposing  the  Clown  to  have  spoken  of  her  as 
afoul  slut,  says,  naturally  enough,  /  am  not  a  slut,  though,  I 
thank  the  gods,  I  am  foul,  i.  e.  full.  She  was  more  likely  to 
thank  the  gods  for  a  belly-full,  than  for  her  being  coy  or  frown- 
ing.    Tyrwhitt. 

In  confirmation  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  conjecture,  it  may  be  ob- 
served, that  in  the  song  at  the  end  of  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
instead  of — "  and  ways  befoul"  we  have  in  the  first  quarto, 
1598,  "  —  and  ways  befull."  In  that  and  other  of  our  author's 
plays  many  words  seem  to  have  been  spelled  by  the  ear. 

Malone. 

Audrey  says,  she  is  not  fair,  i.  e.  handsome,  and  therefore 
prays  the  gods  to  make  her  honest.  The  Clown  tells  her  that  to 
cast  honesty  away  upon  afoul  slut,  (i.  e.  an  ill  favoured  dirty 
creature^)  is  to  put  meat  in  an  unclean  dish.     She  replies,  she 

12 


im  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Touch.  Well,  praised  be  the  gods  for  thy  foul- 
ness !  sluttishness  may  come  hereafter.  But  be  it 
as  it  may  be,  I  will  marry  thee :  and  to  that  end, 
I  have  been  witli  Sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  the  vicar  of 
the  next  village  ;  who  hath  promised  to  meet  me 
in  this  place  of  the  forest,  and  to  couple  us. 

Jaq.  I  would  fain  see  this  meeting.         [Aside. 

AuD.  Well,  the  gods  give  us  joy! 

Touch.  Amen.  A  man  may,  if  he  were  of  a 
fearful  heart,  stagger  in  this  attempt ;  for  here  we 
have  no  temple  but  the  wood,  no  assembly  but 
horn-beasts.  But  what  though  ?  *  Courage !  As 
horns  are  odious,  they  are  necessary.  It  is  said, — 
Many  a  man  knows  no  end  of  his  goods :  right ; 
many  a  man  has  good  horns,  and  knows  no  end  of 
them.     Well,  that  is  the  dowry  of  his  wife  ;  'tis 

none  of  his  own  getting.    Horns  ?   Even  so  : 

Poor  men  alone? No,  no;  the  noblest  deer  hath 

them  as  huge  as  the  rascal.3  Is  the  single  man 
therefore  blessed  ?  No :  as  a  wall'd  town  is  more 
worthier  than  a  village,  so  is  the  forehead  of  a  mar- 
ried man  more  honourable  than  the  bare  brow  of  a 

is  no  slut,  (no  dirty  drab,)  though,  in  her  great  simplicity,  she 
thanks  the  gods  for  her  foulness,  (homelyness,)  i.  e.  for  being 
as  she  is.  "  Well,  (adds  he,)  praised  be  the  gods  for  thy  foul- 
ness, sluttishness  may  come  hereafter."     Ritson. 

I  think  that,  by  foul,  Audrey  means,  not  fair,  or  what  we 
call  homely.  Audrey  is  neither  coy  or  ill-humoured  ;  but  she 
thanks  God  for  her  homeliness,  as  it  rendered  her  less  exposed 
to  temptation.  So,  in  the  next  scene  but  one,  Rosalind  says  to 
Phebe— 

"  Foul  is  most  foul,  being  foul,  to  be  a  scoffer.*' 

M.  Mason. 

*  ivkat  though?]     What  then?     Johnson. 

*  the  rascal.]  Lean,  poor  deer,  are  called  rascal  deer. 

Harris. 


sc.m.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  117 

bachelor:  and  by  how  much  defence4  is  better 
than  no  skill,  by  so  much  is  a  horn  more  precious 
than  to  want. 

)    Enter  Sir  Oliver  Mar-text. 

Here  comes  sir  Oliver  :5 — Sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  you 
are  well  met :  Will  you  despatch  us  here  under 
this  tree,  or  shall  we  go  with  you  to  your  chapel  ? 

Sir  Oli.  Is  there  none  here  to  give  the  woman  ? 

Touch.  I  will  not  take  her  on  gift  of  any  man. 

4 defence  — ]  Defence,  as  here  opposed  to  "no  skill," 

signifies  the  art  of  fencing.  Thus,  in  Hamlet :  "  — and  gave 
you  such  a  masterly  report,  for  arts  and  exercise  in  your 
defence"     Steevens. 

*  sir  Oliver:]     He  that  has  taken  his  first  degree  at  the 

university,  is  in  the  academical  style  called  Dominus,  and  in 
common  language  was  heretofore  termed  Sir.  This  was  not 
always  a  word  of  contempt ;  the  graduates  assumed  it  in  their 
own  writings ;  so  Trevisa  the  historian  writes  himself  Syr  John 
de  Trevisa.    Johnson. 

We  find  the  same  title  bestowed  on  many  divines  in  our  old 
comedies.     So,  in  Wily  Beguiled: 

"  Sir  John  cannot  tend  to  it  at  evening  prayer  ;  for 

there  comes  a  company  of  players  to  town  on  Sunday  in  the 
afternoon,  and  Sir  John  is  so  good  a  fellow,  that  I  know  he'll 
scarce  leave  their  company,  to  say  evening  prayer." 

Again :  "  We'll  all  go  to  church  together,  and  60  save  Sir 
John  a  labour.''  See  notes  on  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsort 
Act  I.  sc.  i.     Steevens. 

Degrees  were  at  this  time  considered  as  the  highest  dignities ; 
and  it  may  not  be  improper  to  observe,  that  a  clergyman,  who 
hath  not  been  educated  at  the  Universities,  is  still  distinguished 
in  some  parts  of  North  Wale*,  by  the  appellation  of  Sir  John, 
Sir  William,  &c.  Hence  the  Sir  Hugh  Evans  of  Shakspeare 
is  not  a  Welsh  knight  who  hath  taken  orders,  but  only  a  Welsh 
clergyman  without  any  regular  degree  from  either  of  the  Uni- 
versities.    See  Barrington's  History  of  the  Guedir  Family. 

Nichols. 


118  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Sir  Oli.  Truly,  she  must  be  given,  or  the  mar- 
riage is  not  lawful. 

Jaq.  [Discovering  himself]  Proceed,  proceed ; 
I'll  give  her. 

Touch.  Good  even,  good  master  What  ye 
caWt:  How  do  you,  sir  ?  You  are  very  well  met : 
God'ild  you 5  for  your  last  company :  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you  : — Even  a  toy  in  hand  here,  sir : 
— Nay ;  pray,  be  cover'd. 

Jaq.  Will  you  be  married,  motley  ? 

Touch.  As  the  ox  hath  his  bow,6  sir,  the  horse 
his  curb,  and  the  faulcon  her  bells,  so  man  hath 
his  desires  ;  and  as  pigeons  bill,  so  wedlock  would 
be  nibbling. 

Jaq.  And  will  you,  being  a  man  of  your  breed- 
ing, be  married  under  a  bush,  like  a  beggar  ?  Get 
you  to  church,  and  have  a  good  priest  that  can  tell 
you  what  marriage  is  :  this  fellow  will  but  join  you 
together  as  they  join  wainscot ;  then  one  of  you 
will  prove  a  shrunk  pannel,  and,  like  green  tim- 
ber, warp,  warp. 

Touch.  I  am  not  in  the  mind  but  I  were  better 
to  be  married  of  him  than  of  another :  for  he  is 
not  like  to  marry  me  well ;  and  not  being  well 
married,  it  will  be  a  good  excuse  for  me  hereafter 
to  leave  my  wife.  [Aside. 

Jaq.  Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel  thee. 


* God'ild  you  -r-]  i.  e.  God  yield  you,  God  reward  you. 

So,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 

"  And  the  gods  yield  you  for't r* 
See  notes  on  Macbeth,  Act  I.  sc.  vi.     Steevens. 

6  Ail  bow,]  i.  e.  his  yoke.     The  ancient  yoke  in  form 

resembled  a  boxv.     See  note  on  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor^ 
Act  V.  Vol.  V.  p.  212.     Steevens. 


ft*  ///.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  1 1 9 

Touch.  Come,  sweet  Audrey ; 
We  must  be  married,  or  we  must  live  in  bawdry. 
Farewell,  good  master  Oliver ! 

Not — O  sweet  Oliver, 

O  brave  Oliver,7 
Leave  me  not  belli'  thee ; 

But — Wind  away, 

Begone,  I  say, 
I  will  not  to  wedding  wi*  thee. 

\_Exeunt  Jaques,  Touchstone,  mid  Audrey. 


7  Not — 0  sweet  Oliver, 

O  brave  &c]  Some  words  of  an  old  ballad. 

Warburton. 

Of  this  speeeh  as  it  now  appears,  I  can  make  nothing,  and 
think  nothing  can  be  made.  In  the  same  breath  he  calls  his 
mistress  to  be  married,  and  sends  away  the  man  that  should 
marry  them.  Dr.  Warburton  has  very  happily  observed,  that 
O  stveet  Oliver  is  a  quotation  from  an  old  song ;  I  believe  there 
are  two  quotations  put  in  opposition  to  each  other.  For  wind  I 
read  wend,  the  old  word  for  go.  Perhaps  the  whole  passage  may 
be  regulated  thus : 

Clo.  /  am  not  in  the  mind,  but  it  voere  better  for  me  to  be  mar- 
ried of  him  than  of  another,  for  he  is  not  like  to  marry  me  well, 
and  not  being  well  married,  it  will  be  a  good  excuse  for  me  heri  • 
after  to  leave  my  wife. — Come,  sweet  Audrey;  we  must  be  mar- 
tied,  or  we  must  live  in  bawdry. 

Jaq.  Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel  thee. 

[They  whisper. 

Clo.  Farewell,  good  sir  Oliver,  not  O  sweet  Oliver,  O  brave 

Oliver,  leave  me  not  behind  thee, but 

Wend  away, 
Begone,  I  say, 
I  will  not  to  wedding  with  thee  to-day. 

Of  this  conjecture  the  reader  may  take  as  much  as  shall  ap- 
pear necessary  to  the  sense,  or  conducive  to  the  humour.  I  have 
received  all  but  the  additional  words.  The  song  seems  to  be 
complete  without  them.    Johnson. 

The  Clown  dismisses  Sir  Oliver  only  because  Jaques  had 
alarmed  his  pride,  and  raised  his  doubts,  concerning  the  validity 


120  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  actuu 

Sir  Oh.  'Tis  no  matter;  ne'er  a  fantastical 
knave  of  them  all  shall  flout  me  out  of  my  calling. 

[Exit. 

of  a  marriage  solemnized  by  one  who  appears  only  in  the  cha- 
racter of  an  itinerant  preacher.  He  intends  afterwards  to  have 
recourse  to  some  other  of  more  dignity  in  the  same  profession. 
Dr.  Johnson's  opinion,  that  the  latter  part  of  the  Clown's  speech 
is  only  a  repetition  from  some  other  ballad,  or  perhaps  a  differ- 
ent part  of  the  same,  is,  I  believe,  just. 

O  brave  Oliver,  leave  me  not  behind  you,  is  a  quotation  at  the 
beginning  of  one  of  N.  Breton's  Letters,  in  his  Packet,  &c.  1600. 

Steevens. 

That  Touchstone  is  influenced  by  the  counsel  of  Jaques,  may 
be  inferred  from  the  subsequent  dialogue  between  the  former 
and  Audrey,  Act  V.  sc.  i : 

Touch.  We  shall  find  a  time,  Audrey;  patience,  gentle 
Audrey. 

Aud.  'Faith,  the  priest  was  good  enough,  for  all  the  old  gen- 
tleman's saying.     Malone. 

0  6tveet  Oliver.  The  epithet  of  sweet  seems  to  have  been 
peculiarly  appropriated  to  Oliver,  for  which,  perhaps,  he  was 
originally  obliged  to  the  old  song  before  us.  No  more  of  it, 
however,  than  these  two  lines  has  as  yet  been  produced.  See 
Ben  JonsonY  Underwood: 

"  All  the  mad  Rolands  and  sweet  Olivers." 
And,  in  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  p.  88,  is  the  same  allusion : 
"  Do  not  stink,  sweet  Oliver."     Tyrwhitt. 

In  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  Aug.  6,  1584,  was 
entered,  by  Richard  Jones,  the  ballad  of, 
"  O  sweet e  Olyver 
"  Leave  me  not  behinde  thee." 
Again,  "  The  answere  of  O  sweete  Olyver" 
Again,  in  1586:  "  O  sweete  Olyver  altered  to  the  Scriptures." 

Steevens. 

1  often  find  a  part  of  this  song  applied  to  Cromwell.  In  a 
paper  called,  A  Man  in  the  Moon,  discovering  a  World  of 
Knavery  under  the  Sun,  "  the  juncto  will  go  near  to  give  us  the 
bagge,  if  O  brave  Oliver  come  not  suddenly  to  relieve  them." 
The  same  allusion  is  met  with  in  Cleveland.  Wind  away  and 
wind  off  are  still  used  provincially :  and,  I  believe,  nothing  but 
the  provincial  pronunciation  is  wanting  to  join  the  parts  to- 
gether.   I  read :        .  j 


se.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  121 

SCENE  IV. 

The  same.     Before  a  Cottage. 

at 

Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Ros.  Never  talk  to  me,  I  will  weep. 

Cel.  Do,  I  pr'ythee  ;  but  yet  have  the  grace  to 
consider,  that  tears  do  not  become  a  man. 

Ros.  But  have  I  not  cause  to  weep  ? 

Cel.  As  good  cause  as  one  would  desire ;  there- 
fore weep. 

Ros.  His  very  hair  is  of  the  dissembling  colour. 

Cel.  Something  browner  than  Judas's  :8  marry, 
his  kisses  are  Judas's  own  children. 


Not — 0  sweet  Oliver  ! 

O  brave  Oliver  ! 
Leave  me  not  belli*  thee 

But — wind  away, 

Begone,  I  say, 
I  'will  not  to  wedding  wV  thee.     Farmer. 

To  produce  the  necessary  rhyme,  and  conform  to  the  pro- 
nunciation of  Shakspeare's  native  county,  1  have  followed  Dr. 
Farmer's  direction. 

Wind  is  used  for  xvend  in  Ccesar  and  Pompey,  1607 : 
u  fVinde  we  then,  Antony,  with  this  royal  queen." 
Again,  in  the  MS.    romance    of  the    Soxvdon    of  Babyloyne, 
p.  63: 

"  And  we  shalle  to-morrowe  as  stil  as  stoon, 

"  The  Saresyns  awake  e'r  ye  ivynde."     Steevens. 

•  Something  browner  than  Judas's :]  See  Mr.  Toilet's  note 
and  mine,  on  a  passage  in  the  fourth  scene  of  the  first  Act  of 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  from  both  which  it  appears  that 


122  AS  YOU  TIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Ros.  I'faith,  his  hair  is  of  a  good  colour.9 

Cel.  An  excellent  colour:  your  chesnut  was  ever 
the  only  colour. 

Ros.  And  his  kissing  is  as  full  of  sanctity  as  the 
touch  of  holy  bread.1 

Cel.  He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lips  of  Diana:4 
a  nun  of  winter's  sisterhood 3  kisses  not  more  re- 
ligiously ;  the  very  ice  of  chastity  is  in  them. 

Judas  was  constantly  represented  in  ancient  painting  or  tapestry, 
with  red  hair  and  beard. 

So,  in  The  Insatiate  Countess,  1613 :  "  I  ever  thought  by  his 
red  beard  he  would  prove  a  Judas.1'     Steevens. 

9  Tfaith,  his  hair  is  of  a  good  colour."]  There  is  much  of 
nature  in  this  petty  perversent ss  of  Rosalind  :  she  finds  fault  in 
her  lover,  in  hope  to  be  contradicted,  and  when  Celia  in  sportive 
malice  too  readily  seconds  her  accusations,  she  contradicts  her- 
self rather  than  suffer  her  favourite  to  want  a  vindication. 

Johnson. 

1 as  the  touch  of  holy  bread.]  We  should  read  beard,  that 

is,  as  the  kiss  of  an  holy  saint  or  hermit,  called  the  kiss  of  charity. 
This  makes  the  comparison  just  and  decent ;  the  other  impious 
and  absurd.     Warburton. 

* a  pair  of  cast  lips  of  Diana .-]  i.  e.  a  pair  left  off  by 

Diana.     Theobald. 

3 a  nun  of  winter's  sisterhood — ]  This  is  finely  ex- 
pressed. But  Mr.  Theobald  says,  the  tvords  give  him  no  ideas. 
And  it  is  certain,  that  words  will  never  give  men  what  nature 
has  denied  them.  However,  to  mend  the  matter,  he  substi- 
tutes Winifred's  sisterhood.  And  after  so  happy  a  thought,  it 
was  to  no  purpose  to  tell  him  there  was  no  religious  order  of 
that  denomination.  The  plain  truth  is,  Shakspeare  meant  an 
unfruitful  sisterhood,  which  had  devoted  itself  to  chastity.  For 
as  those  who  were  of  the  sisterhood  of  the  spring,  were  the 
votaries  of  Venus ;  those  of  summer,  the  votaries  of  Ceres ; 
those  of  autumn,  of  Pomona:  so  these  of  the  sisterhood  of 
Pointer  were  the  votaries  of  Diana ;  called,  of  tvinter,  because 
that  quarter  is  not,  like  the  other  three,  productive  of  fruit  or 
increase.    On  this  account  it  Lb,  that  when  the  poet  speaks  of 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  123 

Ros.  But  why  did  he  swear  he  would  come  this 
morning,  and  comes  not? 

Cel.  Nay  certainly,  there  is  no  truth  in  him. 

Ros.  Do  you  think  so? 

Cel.  Yes:  I  think  he  is  not  a  pick-purse,  nor  a 
horse-stealer;  but  for  his  verity  in  love,  I  do  think 
him  as  concave  as  a  cover'd  goblet,4  or  a  worm- 
eaten  nut. 

Ros.  Not  true  in  love  ? 

Cel.  Yes,  when  he  is  in;  but,  I  think  he  is  not 
in. 

Ros.  You  have  heard  him  swear  downright,  he 
was. 

what  is  most  poor,  he  instances  it  in  winter,  in  these  fine  lines 
of  Othello : 

"  But  riches  fineless  is  as  poor  as  tvinter 

**  To  him  that  ever  fears  he  shall  be  poor." 
The  other  property  of  winter,  that  made  him  term  them  of  its 
sisterhood,    is   its   coldness.      So, "  in   A   Midsummer-Night's 
Dream  : 

"  To  be  a  barren  sister  all  your  life, 

"  Chanting  faint  hymns  to  the  cold  fruitless  moon." 

Warburton. 

There  is  certainly  no  need  of  Theobald's  conjecture,  as  Dr. 
Warburton  has  most  effectually  supported  the  old  reading.  In 
one  circumstance,  however,  he  is  mistaken.  The  Golden  Le- 
gend, p.  ccci.  &c.  gives  a  full  account  of  St.  Winifred  and  her 
sisterhood.     Edit,  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde,  1527.     Steevens. 

4  as  concave  as   a  cover'd  goblet ,]    Why  a  cover'd? 

Because  a  goblet  is  never  kept  cover'd  but  when  empty.     Shak- 
speare  never  throws  out  his  expressions  at  random. 

Warburton. 

Warburton  asks,  "  Why  a  cover'd  goblet?" — and  answers, 
"  Because  a  goblet  is  never  covered  but  when  empty."  If  that 
be  the  ca6e,  the  cover  is  of  little  use ;  for  when  empty,  it  may 
as  well  be  uncovered.  But  it  is  the  idea  of  hollowness,  not 
that  of  emptiness,  that  Shakspeare  wishes  to  convey;  and  a 
goblet  is  more  completely  hollow  when  covered,  than  when  it  is 
not.    M.  Mason. 


124  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ///. 

Cel.  Was  is  not  hi  besides,  the  oath  of  a  lover 
"is  no  stronger  than  the  word  of  a  tapster;  they  are 
both  the  confirmers  of  false  reckonings:  He  at- 
tends here  in  the  forest  on  the  duke  your  father. 

Ros.  I  met  the  duke  yesterday,  and  had  much 
question5  with  him:  He  asked  me,  of  what  pa- 
rentage I  was;  I  told  him,  of  as  good  as  he;  so  he 
laugh'd,  and' let  me  go.  But  what  talk  we  of  fa- 
thers, when  there  is  such  a  man  as  Orlando  ? 

Cel.  O,  that's  a  brave  man!  he  writes  brave 
verses,  speaks  brave  words,  swears  brave  oaths,  and 
breaks  them  bravely,  quite  traverse,  athwart8  the 


*  much  question  — ]  i.  e.  conversation.    So,  in    The 

Merchant  of  Venice: 

u  You  may  as  well  use  question  with  the  wolf." 

Steevens. 

6  quite    traverse,    athwart   &c]      An   unexperienced 

lover  is  here  compared  to  a  puny  tilter,  to  whom  it  was  a  dis- 
grace to  have  his  lance  broken  across,  as  it  was  a  mark  either 
of  want  of  courage  or  address.  This  happened  when  the  horse 
flew  on  one  side,  in  the  career :  and  hence,  I  suppose,  arose 
the  jocular  proverbial  phrase  of  spurring  the  horse  only  on  one 
side.  Now  as  breaking  the  lance  against  his  adversary's  breast, 
in  a  direct  line,  was  honourable,  so  the  breaking  it  across  against 
his  breast  was,  for  the  reason  above,  dishonourable :  hence  it 
is,  that  Sidney,  in  his  Arcadia,  speaking  of  the  mock-combat 
of  Clinias  and  Dametas,  says :  "  The  tvind  took  such  hold  of 
his  staff  that  it  crost  quite  over  his  breast,"  &c. — And  to  break 
across  was  the  usual  phrase,  as  appears  from  some  wretched 
verses  of  the  same  author,  speaking  of  an  unskilful  tilter : 

"  Methought  some  staves  he  mist:    if  so,   not  much 
amiss : 

"  For  when  he  most  did  hit,  he  ever  yet  did  miss. 

"  One  said  he  brake  across,  full  well  it  so  might  be,"  &c. 
This  is  the  allusion.  So  that  Orlando,  a  young  gallant,  affecting 
the  fashion,  ( for  brave  is  here  used,  as  in  other  places,  for 
fashionable,)  is  represented  either  unskilful  in  courtship,  or 
timorous.  The  lover's  meeting  or  appointment  corresponds  to 
the  tilter's  career ;  and  as  the  one  breaks  staves,  the  other  breaks 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  12* 

heart  of  his  lover;7  as  a  puny  tilter,  that  spurs  his 
horse  but  on  one  side,  breaks  his  staff  like  a  noble 
goose :  but  all's  brave,  that  youth  mounts,  and 
folly  guides: — Who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Corix. 

Cor.  Mistress,  and  master,  you  have  oft  enquired 
After  the  shepherd  that  complain'd  of  love  j 
Who  you  saw  sitting  by  me  on  the  turf, 
Praising  the  proud  disdainful  shepherdess 
That  was  his  mistress. 

Cel.  Well,  and  what  of  him  ? 


oaths.    The  business  is  only  meeting  fairly,  and  doing  both  with 
address :  and  'tis  for  the  want  of  this,  that  Orlando  is  blamed. 

Warburton. 

So,  in  Northward  Hoe,  1607:  "  —  melancholick  like  a 
iilter,  that  had  broke  his  staves  foul  before  his  mistress." 

Steevens. 

A  puny  tilter,  that  breaks  his  staff"  like  a  noble  goose .-]  Sir 
Thomas  Hanmer  altered  this  to  a  nose-quill' d  goose,  but  no  one 
seems  to  have  regarded  the  alteration.  Certainly  nose-quilVd  is 
an  epithet  likely  to  be  corrupted :  it  gives;  the  image  wanted, 
and  may  in  a  great  measure  be  supported  by  a  quotation  from 
Turberville's  Falconrie :  "  Take  with  you  a  ducke,  and  slip  one 
of  her  wing  feathers,  and  having  thrust  it  through  her  narest 
throw  her  out  unto  your  hawke."     Farmer. 

Again,  in  Philaster,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 
"  He  shall  for  this  time  only  be  seel'd  up 
"  With  a  feather  through  his  noset  that  he  may  only  - 
**  See  heaven,"  &c. 
Again,  in  the  Booke  of  Havokyng,  Huntyng,  and  Fishing,  && 
bl.  1.  no  date:  " — and  with  a  pen  put  it  in  the  haukes  nares 
once  or  twice,'*  &c.     Again,  in  Philemon  Holland's  translation 
of  the  tenth  Book  of  Pliny's  Natural  History,   1601,  p.  300: 
"  It  is  good  moreover  to  draw  a  little  quill  or  feather  through 
their  nostrills  acrosse,"  &c.     Steevens.  .  , 

7  of  his  lover ;]  i.  e.  of  his  mistress*.   See  Voh  *V\  p.  222, 

note  7.    M alone. 


120  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  nr. 

Cor.  If  you  will  see  a  pageant  truly  play'd, 
Between  the  pale  complexion  of  true  love 
And  the  red  glow  of  scorn  and  proud  disdain, 
Go  hence  a  little,  and  I  shall  conduct  you, 
If  you  will  mark  it. 

Ros.  O,  come,  let  us  remove  ; 

The  sight  of  lovers  feedeth  those  in  love  : — 
Bring  us  unto  this  sight,  and  you  shall  say 
1*11  prove  a  busy  actor  in  their  play.         \_ExeimU 


SCENE  V. 

Another  Part  of  the  Forest. 
Enter  Silvius  and  Phebe. 

Sil.  Sweet  Phebe,  do  not  scorn  me ;  do  not, 

Phebe : 
Say,  that  you  love  me  not;  but  say  not  so 
In  bitterness:  The  common  executioner, 
Whose  heart  the  accustom'd  sight  of  death  makes 

hard, 
Falls  not  the  axe  upon  the  humbled  neck, 
But  first  begs  pardon  ;  Will  you  sterner  be 
Than  he  that  dies  and  lives  by  bloody  drops  ?' 


Will  you  sterner  be 


Than  he  that  dies  and  lives  by  bloody  drops?]  This  is 
spoken  of  the  executioner.  He  lives,  indeed,  by  bloody  drops, 
if  you  will :  but  how  does  he  die  by  bloody  drops  ?  The  poet 
must  certainly  have  wrote : 

■■        that  deals  and  lives,  &c. 
i.  e.  that  gets  his  bread  by,  and  makes  a  trade  of  cutting  off 
heads  :  but  the  Oxford  editor  makes  it  plainer.     He  reads  : 
Than  he  that  lives  and  thrives  by  bloody  drops. 

Warburton. 


m  »v  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  1.27 


Enter    Rosalind,    Celia,   and    Corin,    at   a 
distance, 

Phe.  I  would  not  be  thy  executioner ; 
I  fly  thee,  for  I  would  not  injure  thee. 

Either  Dr.  Warburton's  emendation,  except  that  the  word 
deals,  wants  its  proper  construction,  or  that  of  Sir  Tho.  Han- 
mer,  may  serve  the  purpose ;  but  I  believe  they  have  fixed  cor- 
ruption upon  the  wrong  word,  and  should  rather  read: 

Than  he  thai  dies  his  lips  by  bloody  drops? 
Will  you  speak  with  more  sternness   than   the  executioner, 
whose  lips  are  used  to  be  sprinkled  with  blood  ?  The  mention 
of  drops  implies  some  part  that  must  be  sprinkled  rather  than 
dipped.    Johnson. 

I  am  afraid  our  bard  is  at  his  quibbles  again.  To  die,  means 
as  well  to  dip  a  thing  in  a  colour  foreign  to  its  own,  as  to  expire. 
In  this  sense,  contemptible  as  it  is,  the  executioner  may  be  said 
to  die  as  well  as  live  by  bloody  drops.  Shakspeare  is  fond  of 
opposing  these  terms  to  each  other. 

In  King  John  is  a  play  on  words  not  unlike  this  : 

«« all  with  purple  hands 

*'  Dy'd  in  the  dying  slaughter  of  their  foes." 
Camden  has  preserved  an  epitaph  on  a  dyer,  which  has  the 
same  turn : 

"  He  that  dyed  so  oft  in  sport, 

"  Dyed  at  last,  no  colour  for't." 
So,  Hey  wood,  in  his  Epigrams,  1562: 

"  Is  thy  husband  a  dyer,  woman  ?  alack, 

**  Had  he  no  colour  to  die  thee  on  but  black  ? 

"  Dieth  he  oft  ?  yea  too  oft  when  customers  call ; 

"  But  I  would  have  him  one  day  die  once  for  all. 

"  Were  he  gone,  dyer  never  more  would  I  wed,. 

"  Dyers  be  ever  dying,  but  never  dead." 
Again,  Puttenhara,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry,  1589  : 

"  We  once  sported  upon  a  country  fellow,  who  came  to  run 
for  the  best  game,  and  was  by  his  occupation  a  dyer,  and  had 
very  big  swelling  legs, 

"  He  is  but  coarse  to  run  a  course, 

"  Whose  shanks  are  bigger  than  his  thigh  ; 

"  Yet  is  his  luck  a  little  worse 

,    **  That  often  dyes  before  he  die." 


1 28  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  hi: 

Thou  tell'st  me,  there  is  murder  in  mine  eye: 
'Tis  pretty,  sure,  and  very  probable,8 
That  eyes, — that  are  the  frail'st  and  softest  things, 
Who  shut  their  coward  gates  on  atomies, — 
Should  be  call'd  tyrants,  butchers,  murderers  ! 
Now  I  do  frown  on  thee  with  all  my  heart ; 
And,  if  mine  eyes  can  wound,  now  let  them  kill 

thee ; 
Now  counterfeit  to  swoon  ;  why  now  fall  down  ; 
Or,  if  thou  canst  not,  O,  for  shame,  for  shame, 
Lie  not,  to  say  mine  eyes  are  murderers. 
Now  show  the  wound  mine  eye  hath  made  in  thee: 
Scratch  thee  but  with  a  pin,  and  there  remains 


*  Where  ye  see  the  words  course  and  die'used  in  divers  senses, 
»ne  giving  the  rebound  to  the  other."     Steevens. 

J.  Davies,  of  Hereford,  in  his  Scourge  of  Folly,  printed 
about  1611,  has  the  same  conceit,  and  uses  almost  our  author's 
words : 

OF    A    PROUD    LYING    DYER. 

"  Turbine,  the  dyer,  stalks  before  his  dore, 

**  Like  Caesar,  that  by  dying  oft  did  thrive  ; 
"  And  though  the  beggar  be  as  proud  as  poore, 
"  Yet  (like  the  mortifide)  he  dyes  to  live.'* 
Again,  on  the  same : 

"  Who  lives  well,  dies  well : — not  by  and  by ; 
"  For  this  man  lives  proudly,  yet  well  doth  die" 

Malone. 

He  that  lives  and  dies,  i.  e.  he  who,  to  the  very  end  of  his 
life,  continues  a  common  executioner.  So,  in  the  second  scene 
of  the  fifth  Act  of  this  play ;  "  live  and  die  a  shepherd." 

To  l  let. 

To  die  and  live  by  a  thing  is  to  be  constant  to  it,  to  persevere 
in  it  to  the  end.  Lives,  therefore,  does  not  signify  is  main' 
tained,  but  the  two  verbs  taken  together  mean,  who  is  all  his 
life  conversant  with  bloody  drops.     Musgrave. 

*  '  Tis  pretty,  sure,  and  very  probable,"]    Sure  for  surely. 

Douce. 


sc.  v.    -  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  129 

Some  scar  of  it ;  lean  but  upon  a  rush,1 

The  cicatrice  and  capable  impressure 2 

Thy  palm  some  moment  keeps :  but  now  mine 

eyes, 
Which  I  have  darted  at  thee,  hurt  thee  not ; 
Nor,  I  am  sure,  there  is  no  force  in  eyes 
That  can  do  hurt. 

Sil.  O  dear  Phebe, 

If  ever,  (as  that  ever  may  be  near,) 
You  meet  in  some  fresh  cheek  the  power  of  fancy,3 
Then  shall  you  know  the  wounds  invisible 
That  love's  keen  arrows  make. 

Phe.  But,  till  that  time, 

Come  not  thou  near  me :  and,  when  that  time  comes, 
Afflict  me  with  thy  mocks,  pity  me  not  j 
As,  till  that  time,  I  shall  not  pity  thee. 

Ros.  And  why,  I  pray  you  ?  [Advancing,"]  Who 
might  be  your  mother,4 
That  you  insult,  exult,  and  all  at  once,5 

1  lean  but  upon  a  rush,]     But,  which  is  not  in  the  old 

copy,  was  added,  for  the  sake  of  the  metre,  by  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio.     Ma  lone. 

*  The  cicatrice  and  capable  impressure — ]  Cicatrice  is  here 
not  very  properly  used;  it  is  the  scar  of  a  wound.  Capable 
impressure,  hollow  mark.     Johnson. 

Capable,  I   believe,  means  here— -perceptible.      Our  author 
often  uses  the  word  for  intelligent ;  ( See  a  note  on  Hamlet,— 
"  His  form  and  cause  conjoin'd,  preaching  to  stones, 
M  Would  make  them  capable") 
Hence,  with  his  usual  licence,  for  intelligible,  and  then  for  per- 
ceptible.    Malone. 

3  power  of  fancy,]  Fancy  is  here  used  for  love,  as  be- 
fore, in  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream.    Johnson. 

4  ■  Who  might  be  your  mother,']  It  is  common  for  the 
poets  to  express  cruelty  by  saying,  of  those  who  commit  it,  that 
they  were  born  of  rocks,  or  suckled  by  tigresses.    Johnson. 

5  That  you  insult,  exult,  and  all  at  once,]  If  the  speaker 
intended  to  accuse  the  person  spoken  to  only  fordnsulting  and 

VOL.  VIII.  K 


130  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

Over  the  wretched  ?  What  though  you  have  more 
beauty,'5 

exulting ;  then,  instead  of — all  at  once,  it  ought  to  have  been, 
both  at  once.  But,  by  examining  the  crjme  of  the  person  ac- 
cused, we  shall  discover  that  the  line  is  to  be  read  thus : 

That  you  insult ,  exult,  and  rail  at  once. 
For  these  three  things  Phebe  was  guilty  of.     But  the  Oxford 
editor  improves  it,  and,  for  rail  at  once,  reads  domineer. 

Warburton. 

I  see  no  need  of  emendation.  The  speaker  may  mean  thus  : 
Who  might  he  your  mother,  that  you  insult,  exult,  and  that  too 
all  in  a  breath?  Such  is,  perhaps,  the  meaning  of  all  at  once. 

Steevens. 

6  ■  v  What  though  you  have  more  beauty,]  The  old  copy 
reads: 

What  though  you  have  no  beauty.     Steevens. 

Though  all  the  printed  copies  agree  in  this  reading,  it  is  very 
accurately  observed  to  me,  by  an  ingenious  unknown  corre- 
spondent, who  signs  himself  L.  H.  (and  to  whom  I  can  only  here 
make  my  acknowledgement)  that  the  negative  ought  to  be  left 
out.     Theobald. 

That  no  is  a  misprint,  appears  clearly  from  the  passage  in 
Lodge's  Rosalynde,  which  Shakspeare  has  here  imitated : 
"  Sometimes  have  I  seen  high  disdaine  turned  to  hot  desires. — 
Because  thou  art  beautiful,  be  not  so  coy ;  as  there  is  nothing 
more  faire,  so  there  is  nothing  more  fading." — Mr.  Theobald 
corrected  the  error,  by  expunging  the  word  no;  in  which  he 
was  copied  by  the  subsequent  editors;  but  omission,  (as  I  have 
often  observed,)  is,  of  all  the  modes  of  emendation,  the  most 
exceptionable.  No  was,  I  believe,  a  misprint  for  mo,  a  word 
often,  used  by  our  author  and  his  contemporaries  for  more.  So, 
in  a  former  scene  of  this  play:  "  I  pray  you,  mar  no  mo  of  my 
verses  with  reading  them  ill-favour' dly."  Again,  in  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing :  "  Sing  no  more  ditties,  sing  no  mo."  Again, 
in  The  Tempest:  "  Mo  widows  of  this  business  making — " 
Many  other  instances  might  be  added.  The  word  is  found  in 
almost  every  book  of  that  age.  As  no  is  here  printed  instead  of 
mo,  so  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  V.  we  find  in  the  folio,  1623, 
Mo  matter,  for  No  matter.  This  correction  being  less  violent 
than  Mr.  Theobald's,  I  have  inserted  it  in  the  text.  "  What 
though  I  should  allow  you  had  more  beauty  than  he,  (says  Rosa- 
lind,) though  by  my  faith,"  &c.  (for  such  is  the  force  of  As  in 
die  next  linej,"  must  you  therefore  treat.hhn  with  disdain?" 


sc.  r.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  131 

(As,  by  my  faith,  I  see  no  more  in  you 
Than  without  candle  may  go  dark  to  bed,) 
Must  you  be  therefore  proud  and  pitiless  ? 
Why,  what  means  this  ?  Why  do  you  look  on  me  ? 
I  see  no  more  in  you,  than  in  the  ordinary 
Of  nature's  sale-work  : 7 — Od's  my  little  life  ! 
I  think,  she  means  to  tangle  my  eyes  too : — 
No,  'faith,  proud  mistress,  hope  not  after  it ; 
'Tis  not  your  inky  brows,  your  black-silk  hair, 
Your  bugle  eye-balls,  nor  your  cheek  of  cream, 
That  can  entame  my  spirits  to  your  worship.8 — 
You  foolish  shepherd,  wherefore  do  you  follow  her, 
Like  foggy  south,  puffing  with  wind  and  rain  ? 

In  Antony  and  Cleopatra  we  meet  with  a  passage  constructed 

nearly  in  the  same  manner : 

" Say,  this  becomes  him, 

"  (As  his  composure  must  be  rare  indeed 

"  Whom  these  things  cannot  blemish,)  yet,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Love's  Labour'' s  Lost  : 

"  But  say  that  he  or  we,  (as  neither  have,) 
"  Receiv'd  that  sum,"  &c. 

Again,  more  appositely,  in  Camden's  Remaines,  p.  190,  edit. 

1605:  "I  force  not  of  such  fooleries;  but  if  I  have  any  skill 

in  sooth-saying,  ( as  in  sooth  I  have  none, )  it  doth  prognosticate 

that  I  shall  change  copie  from  a  duke  to  a  king."     Malone. 

As  mo,  ( unless  rhyme  demands  it, )  is  but  an  indolent  abbre- 
viation of  more,  I  have  adopted  Mr.  Malone's  conjecture,  with- 
out his  manner  of  spelling  the  word  in  question.  If  mo  were 
right,  how  happens  it  that  more  should  occur  twice  afterwards 
in  the  same  speech  ?     Steevens. 

7  Of  nature's  sale-work:]  Those  works  that  nature  makes 
up  carelessly  and  without  exactness.  The  allusion  is  to  the 
practice  of  mechanicks,  whose  work  bespoke  is  more  elaborate 
than  that  which  is  made  up  for  chance-customers,  or  to  sell  in 
quantities  to  retailers,  which  is  called  sale-work.    Warburton. 

•  That  can  entame  my  spirits  to  your  worship.]  So,  in 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing  : 

"  Taming  my  wild  heart  to  thy  loving  hand." 

Steevens. 

K  2 


1 3a  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  in. 

You  are  a  thousand  times  a  properer  man, 
Than  she  a  woman  :  ,rfis  such  fools  as  you, 
That  make  the  world  full  of  ill-favour'd  children : 
'Tis  not  her  glass,  but  you,  that  flatters  her  j 
And  out  of  you  she  sees  herself  more  proper, 
Than  any  or  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 ;  love  him ;  take  his  offer ; 
Foul  is  most  foul,  being  foul  to  be  a  scoffer.9 
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. 

Ros.  He's  fallen  in  love  with  her  foulness,1  and 
she'll  fall  in  love  with  my  anger :  If  it  be  so,  as  fast 
as  she  answers  thee  with  frowning  looks,  I'll  sauce 
her  with  bitter  words. — Why  look  you  so  upon  me? 

Phe.  For  no  ill  will  I  bear  you. 

Mos.  I  pray  you,  do  not  fall  in  love  with  me, 
For  I  am  falser  than  vows  made  in  wine : 
Besides,  I  like  vou  not :  If  you  will  know  my  house, 
'Tis  at  the  tuft  of  olives,  here  hard  by  : — 
Will  you  go,  sister  ? — Shepherd,  ply  her  hard  : — 
Come,  sister : — Shepherdess,  look  on  him  better, 


9  Foul  is  most  foul,  being  foul  to  be  a  scoffer.]     The  sense  is. 
The  ugly  seem  most  ugly,  when,  though  ugly,  they  are  scoffers. 

Johnson. 

1  with  heTfoulness,]     So,  Sir  Tho.  Hanmer;  the  other 

editions — your  foulness.     Johnson. 


sc.  K  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  133 

And  be  not  proud  :  though  all  the  world  could  see, 
None  could  be  so  abus'd  in  sight  as  he.2 
Come,  to  our  flock. 

\_Exeunt  Rosalind,  Celia,  and  Corin  . 

Phe.  Dead  shepherd !  now  I  find  thy  saw  of 
might ; 
Who  ever  lov'd,  that  lov'd  not  at  first  sight? a 

Sil.  Sweet  Phebe, — 

Phe.  Ha  !  what  say'st  thou,  Silvius  ? 

Sil.  Sweet  Phebe,  pity  me. 

Phe.  Why,  I  am  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. 


* though  all  the  world  could  see, 

None  couvd  be  so  abus'd  in  sight  as  he.]  Though  all  man- 
kind could  look  on  you,  none  could  be  so  deceived  as  to  think 
you  beautiful  but  he.    Johnson. 

3  Dead  shepherd!  novo  I  find  thy  save  of  might ; 
Who  ever  lov'd,  that  lov'd  not  at  first  sight  ?]     The  second 
of  these  lines  is  from  Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander,  1637,  sign. 
B  b.  where  it  stands  thus : 

"  Where  both  deliberate,  the  love  is  slight : 
"  Who  ever  lov'd,  that  lov'd  not  at  first  sight?'* 
This  line  is  likewise  quoted  in  Belvidere,  or  the  Garden  of 
the  Muses,  1610,  p.  29,  and  in  England's  Parnassus,  printed  in 
1600,  p.  261.     Steevens. 

This  poem  of  Marlowe's  was  so  popular,  (as  appears  from 
many  ot  the  contemporary  writers, )  that  a  quotation  from  it 
must  have  been  known  at  once,  at  least  by  the  more  enlightened 
part  of  the  audience.  Our  author  has  again  alluded  to  it  in  the 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. — The  "  dead  shepherd,"  Marlowe, 
was  killed  in  a  brothel,  in  1593.  Two  editions  of  Hero  and 
Leander,  I  believe,  had  been  published  before  the  year  1600; 
it  being  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Books,  Sept.  28,  1593,  and 
again  in  1597.    Malone. 


134  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  i n. 

The.  Thou  hast  my  lave ;  Is  not  that  neigh- 
bourly ? 

Sil.  I  would  have  you. 

The.  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  further  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,4  and  that  I'll  live  upon. 

The.  Know'st  thou  the  youth  that  spoke  to  me 
ere  while  ? 

Sil.  Not  very  well,  but  I  have  met  him  oft ; 
And  he  hath  bought  the  cottage,  and  the  bounds, 
That  the  old  carlot  once  was  master  of.5 

The.  Think  not  I  love  him,  though  I  ask  for 
him; 

4  To  glean  the  broken  ears  after  the  man 

That  the  main  harvest  reaps :  loose  now  and  then 
A  scattered  smileS]     Perhaps  Shakspeare  owed  this  image 
to  the  second  chapter  of  the  book  of  Ruth : — "  Let  Jail  some 
handfuls  of  purpose  for  her,  and  leave  them  that  she  may  glean 
ihem."     Steevens. 

*  That  the  old  carlot  once  tvas  master  ofJ\  i.  e.  peasant t  from 
carl  or  churl;  probably  a  word  of  Shakspeare *s  coinage. 

Douce. 


sc.  v.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  135 

'Tis  but  a  peevish  boy:c — 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 : — 
Butj  sure,  he's  proud  j  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  tall;  yet  for  his  years  he's  tall:7 
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  dif- 
ference 
Betwixt  the  constant  red,  and  mingled  damask.8 
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 
I  have  more  cause9  to  hate  him  than  to  love  him  : 

6  a  peevish  bny:"]  Peevish,  in  ancient  language,  signi- 
fies tveak,  silly.     So,  in  King  Richard  III : 

"  When  Richmond  was  a  little  peevish  boy." 

Steeveus. 

7  He  is  not  tall ;  yet  for  his  years  he's  tall/]  The  old  copy 
reads : 

He  is  not  very  tall,  &c. 
For  the  sake  of  metre,  I  have  omitted  the  useless  adverb — very. 

Steevens. 

8  the  constant  red,  and  mingled  damask.'}     "  Constant 

red'*  is  uniform  red.  "  Mingled  damask"  is  the  silk  of  that 
name,  in  which,  by  a  various  direction  of  the  threads,  many 
lighter  shades  of  the  same  colour  are  exhibited.     Stbevens. 

9  I  have  more  cause — ]  /,  which  seems  to  have  been  inad- 
vertently omitted  in  the  old  copy,  was  inserted  by  the  editor  of 
the  second  folio.    Malone. 


136  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  iv. 

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. 

I'll  write  to  him  a  very  taunting  letter, 

And  thou  shalt  bear  it ;  Wilt  thou,  Silvius  ? 

Sil.  Phebe,  with  all  my  heart. 

Rue.  I'll  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. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 

The  same. 

Enter  Rosalind,  Celia,  and  Jaques. 

Jaq.  I  pr'ythee,  pretty  youth,  let  me  be  better1 
acquainted  with  thee. 

Ros.  They  say,  you  are  a  melancholy  fellow. 

Jaq.  I  am  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. 


1  let  me  be  better  — ]     Be,  which  is  wanting  in  the  old 

copy,  was  added  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.    Malone. 


sc.  i.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  1ST 

Jaq.  Why,  'tis  good  to  be  sad  and  say  nothing. 

JRos.  Why  then,  'tis  good  to  be  a  post. 

Jaq.  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 
the  soldier's,  which  is  ambitious;  nor  the  lawyer's, 
which  is  politick;  nor  the  lady's,  which  is  nice;2 
nor  the  lover's,  which  is  all  these:  but  it  is  a  me- 
lancholy of  mine  own,  compounded  of  many  sim- 
ples, extracted  from  many  objects ;  and,  indeed, 
the  sundry  contemplation  of  my  travels,  in  which 
my  often  rumination  wraps  me,  is  a  most  humor- 
ous sadness.3 

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. 

*  which  is   nice ;]  i.  e.   silly,    trifling.     So,    in  King 

Richard  III : 

"  But  the  respects  thereof  are  nice  and  trivial." 
See  a  note  on  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  V.  sc.  ii.     Steevens. 

3  my  often   rumination  wraps  me,  is  a  most  humorous 

sadness.]     The  old  copy  reads — in  a  most,  &c.     Steevens. 

The  old  copy  has — by  often.  Corrected  by  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio.  Perhaps  we  should  rather  read  "  and  which,  by 
often  rumination,  wraps  me  in  a  most  humorous  sadness." 

Malone. 

As  this  speech  concludes  with  a  sentence  at  once  ungrammati- 
cal  and  obscure,  I  have  changed  a  single  letter  in  it ;  and  in- 
stead of"  in  a  most  humorous  sadness,"  have  ventured  to  read, 
"  is  a  most  humorous  sadness."  Jaques  first  informs  Rosalind 
what  his  melancholy  was  not ;  and  naturally  cocnludes  by  tell- 
ing her  what  the  quality  of  it  is.  To  obtain  a  clear  meaning, 
a  less  degree  of  violence  cannot  be  employed.     Steevens. 


138  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  Jr. 

Enter  Orlando. 

Ros.  And  your  experience  makes  you  sad;  I  bad 
rather  have  a  fool  to  make  me  merry,  than  experi- 
ence to  make  me  sad;  and  to  travel  for  it  too. 

Orl.  Good  day,  and  happiness,  dear  Rosalind! 

Jaq.  Nay  then,  God  be  wF  you,  an  you  talk  in 
blank  verse.  [Exit, 

Ros.  Farewell,  monsieur  traveller :  Look,  you 
lisp,  and  wear  strange  suits;  disable4  all  the  benefits 
of  your  own  country ;  be  out  of  love  with  your 
nativity,  and  almost  chide  God  for  making  you  that 
countenance  you  are ;  or  I  will  scarce  think  you 
have  swam  in  a  gondola.5 — Why,  how  now,  Or- 
lando! where  have  you  been  all  this  while?  You  a 
lover? — An  you  serve  me  such  another  trick,  never 
come  in  my  sight  more. 

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 

*  "  disable — ]  i.  e.  undervalue.  So  afterwards: — "  he 
disabled  my  judgment."     Steevens. 

*  — —  svoam  in  a  gondola.']  That  is  been  at  Venice,  the  seat 
at  that  time  of  all  licentiousness,  where  the  young  English  gen- 
tlemen wasted  their  fortunes,  debased  their  morals,  and  some- 
times lost  their  religion. 

The  fashion  of  travelling,  which  prevailed  very  much  in  our 
author's  time,  was  considered  by  the  wiser  men  as  one  of  the 
principal  causes  of  corrupt  manners.  It  was,  therefore,  gravely 
censured  by  Ascham,  in  his  Schoolmaster,  and  by  Bishop  Hall, 
in  his  Quo  Vadis  ;  and  is  here,  and  in  other  passages,  ridiculed 
by  Shakspeare.    Johnson. 


*  /.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  139 

Cupid  hath  clap'd  him  o*  the  shoulder,  but  I  war- 
rant 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  woo'd  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  can  make  a  woman:6  Besides, 
he  brings  his  destiny  with  him. 

Orl.  What's  that  ? 

Ros.  Why,  horns ;  which  such  as  you  are  fain  to 
be  beholden  to  your  wives  for :  but  he  comes 
armed  in  his  fortune,  and  prevents  the  slander  of 
his  wife. 

Orl.  Virtue  is  no  horn-maker;  and  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.7 

6  ■  than  you  can  make  a  'woman.']  Old  copy — you  make 
a  woman.     Corrected  by  Sir  T.  Hanmer.     Malone. 

7 a  Rosalind  of  a  better  leer  than  you.]  i.  e.  of  a  better 

feature,  complexion;  or  colour,  tban  you.  So,  in  P.  Holland's 
Pliny,  B.  XXXI.  c.  ii.  p.  403  :  "  In  some  places  there  is  no 
other  thing  bred  or  growing,  but  brown  and  duskish,  insomuch 
as  not  only  the  cattel  is  all  of  that  lere,  but  also  the  corn  on  the 
ground,"  &c.  The  word  seems  to  be  derived  from  the  Saxon 
Hleare,  facies,  frons,  vultus.  So  it  it  used  in  Titus  Androni- 
cus,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii: 

"  Here's  a  young  lad  fram'd  of  another  leer"   Tollet. 
In  the  notes  on  the  Canterbury  Tales  of  Chaucer,  Vol.  IV. 
p.  320,  lere  is  supposed  to  mean  skin.     So,  in  Isumbras  M SS. 
Cott.  Cal.  Il.fol.  129: 

"  His  lady  is  white  as  whales  bone, 

"  Here  lere  bryghte  to  se  upon, 

"  So  fair  as  blosme  on  tre."     Steevens. 


140  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ir. 

Ros.  Come,  woo  me,  woo  me;  for  now  I  am  in 
a  holiday  humour,  and  like  enough  to  consent: — 
What  would  you  say  to  me  now,  an  I  were  your 
very  very  Rosalind  r 

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.8  Very  good  orators,  when 
they  are  out,  they  will  spit ;  and  for  lovers,  lacking 
(God  warn  us!9)  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  ? 

Ros.  Marry,  that  should  you,  if  I  were  your 
mistress;  or  I  should  think  my  honesty  ranker  than 
my  wit. 

Orl.  What,  of  my  suit  ? 

Ros.  Not  out  of  your  apparel,  and  yet  out  of 
your  suit.     Am  not  I  your  Rosalind  ? 

Orl.  I  take  some  joy  to  say  you  are,  because  I 
would  be  talking  of  her. 

•  and  when  you  were  gravelled  for  lack  of  matter,  you 

might  take  occasion  to  kiss.')  Thus  also  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  edit.  1632,  p.  511 :  "  — and  when  he  hath  pumped 
his  wittes  dry,  and  can  say  no  more,  kissing  and  colling  are 
never  out  of  season."     Steevens. 

9 (God  warn  us!)~\  If  this  exclamation  (which  occurs 

again  in  the  quarto  copies  of  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  J  is 
not  a  corruption  of — "  God  ward  us,"  i.  e.  defend  us,  it  must 
mean,  "  summon  us  to  himself     So,  in  King  Richard  III: 
"  And  sent  to  warn  them  to  his  royal  presence." 

Steevens. 


M  i,  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  141 

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,  vide- 
licet, 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  age1  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. 

1  chroniclers  of  that  age  — ]  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — 

coroners,  by  the  advice,  as  Dr.  Warburton  hints,  of  some  anony- 
mous critick.     Johnson. 

Mr.  Edwards  proposes  the  same  emendation,  and  supports  it 

by  a  passage  in  Hamlet:   "  The  coroner  hath  sat  on  her,  and 

finds  it — Christian  burial."     I  believe,  however,  the  old  copy 

is  right ;  thoughyownrf  is  undoubtedly  used  in  its  forensick  sense. 

•  Malone. 

I  am  surprized  that  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  just  and  ingenious 
amendment  should  not  be  adopted  as  soon  as  suggested.  The 
allusion  is  evidently  to  a  coroner's  inquest,  which  Rosalind  sup- 
poses to  have  sat  upon  the  body  of  Leander,  who^was  drowned 
in  crossing  the  Hellespont,  and  that  their  verdict  was,  that  Hero 
of  Sestos  was  the  cause  of  his  death.  The  word  found  is  the 
legal  term  on  such  occasions.  We  say,  that  a  jury  found  it 
lunacy,  or  found  it  manslaughter;  and  the  verdict  is  called  the 
finding  of  the  jur}'.    M.  Mason. 


142  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act iv: 

Ros.  By  this  hand,  it  will  not  kill  a  fly:  But 
come,  now  I  wifl  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. 

Orl.  And  wilt  thou  have  me  ? 

Ros.  Ay,  and  twenty  such. 

Orl.  What  say'st  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, — /  take  thee,  Rosalind, 
for  wife. 

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 


sc.  /.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  143 

a  girl  goes  before  the  priest;2  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,  Or- 
lando; 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,3  and  I  will  do 
that  when  you  are  disposed  to  be  merry ;  I  will 

*  There  a  girl  goes  before  the  priest;-}  The  old  copy 

reads — **  There's  a  girl,"  &c.  The  emendation  in  the  text  was 
proposed  to  me  long  ago  by  Drv  Farmer.     Steevens. 

3  /  tvill  weep  for  nothing,  like  Diana  in  the  fountain^ 

The  allusion  is  to  the  cross  in  Cheapside ;  the  religious  images, 
with  which  it  was  ornamented,  being  defaced,  (as  we  learn 
from  Stowe,)  in  1596:  "  There  was  then  set  up,  a  curious 
wrought  tabernacle  of  gray  marble,  and  in  the  same  an  alabaster 
image  of  Diana,  and  water  conveyed  from  the  Thames,  prilling 
from  her  naked  breast."     Stowe,  in  Cheap  Ward. 

Statues,  and  particularly  that  of  Diana,  with  water  conveyed 
through  them  to  give  them  the  appearance  of  weeping  figures, 
were  anciently  a  frequent  ornament  of  fountains.  So,  in  The 
City  Match,  Act  III.  sc.  iii : 

" Now  could  I  cry 

"  Like  any  image  in  a  fountain,  which 

"  Runs  lamentations." 
And  again,  in  Rosamond's  Epistle  to  Henry  II.  by  Drayton: 

"  Here  in  the  garden,  wrought  by  curious  hands, 

"  Naked  Diana  in  the  fountain  stands."  Whalley. 


144  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  activ. 

laugh  like  a  hyen,4  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.  O,  but  she  is  wise. 

Ros.  Or  else  she  eould  not  have  the  wit  to  do 
this:  the  wiser,  the  waywarden  Make  the  doors0 
upon  a  woman's  wit,  and  it  will  out  at  the  case- 
ment ;  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?6 

4  ■         /  will  laugh  like  a  hyen,]  The  bark  of  the  hyena  was, 
anciently  supposed  to  resemble  a  loud  laugh. 
So,  in  Webster's  Duchess  o/Malfy,  1623: 

" Methinks  I  see  her  laughing, 

"  Excellent  Hyena  /" 
Again,  in  The  Cobler's  Prophecy,  1594 : 

"  You  laugh  hyena-bke,  weep  like  a  crocodile." 

'  Steevens. 

s  Make  the  doers  — ]  This  is  an  expression  used  in  se- 
veral of  the  midland  counties,  instead  of  bar  the  doors.  So,  in 
The  Comedy  of  Errors: 

"  The  doors  are  made  against  you."     Steevens. 

6  Wit,  "whither  •wilt?']  This  must  be  some  allusion  to  a 

story  well  known  at  that  time,  though  now  perhaps  irretriev- 
able.   Johnson. 

This  was  an  exclamation  much  in  use,  when  any  one  was 
either  talking  nonsense,  or  usurping  a  greater  share  in  conver- 
sation than  justly  belonged  to  him.  So,  in  Decker's  Satiro- 
mastix,  1602:  "  My  sweet,  Wit  whither  wilt  thou,  my  delicate 
poetical  fury,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Heywood's  Royal  King,  1637 : 

"  Wit: — is  the  word  strange  to  you?—  Wit? — 
"  Whither  wilt  thou?" 


sc.  /.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  145 

Ros.  Nay,  you  might  keep  that  check  for  it,  till 
you  met  your  wife's  wit  going  to  your  neighbour's 
bed. 

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,7  un- 
less you  take  her  without  her  tongue.  O,  that 
woman  that  cannot  make  her  fault  her  husband's 
occasion,8  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.  Alas,  dear  love,  I  cannot  lack  thee  two  hours. 

Again,  in  the  Preface  to  Greene's  Groatsworth  of  Wit,  1621 : 
"  Wit  whither  wilt  thou  ?  woe  is  me, 
"  Thou  hast  brought  me  to  this  miserie." 
The  same  expression  occurs  more  than  once  in  Taylor  the  water- 
poet,  and  seems  to  have  been  the  title  of  some  ludicrous  per- 
formance.    Steevens. 

If  I  remember  right,  these  are  the  first  words  of  an  old 
madrigal.    Malone. 

7  You  shall  never  take  her  without  her  answer,"]  See  Chaucer's 
Marchantes  Tale,  ver.  10,138—10,149  : 

"  Ye,  sire,  quod  Proserpine,  and  wol  ye  so  ? 

"  Now  by  my  modre  Ceres  soule  I  swere, 

"  That  I  shall  yeve  hire  suffisant  answere, 

*'  And  alle  women  after  for  hire  sake ; 

**  That  though  they  ben  in  any  gilt  ytake, 

**  With  face  bold  they  shul  hemselve  excuse, 

"  And  bere  hem  doun  that  wolden  hem  accuse. 

"  For  lack  of  answere,  non  of  us  shall  dien. 

"  Al  had  ye  seen  a  thing  with  bothe  youre  eyen, 

"  Yet  shul  we  so  visage  it  hardely, 

"  And  wepe  and  swere  and  chiden  subtilly, 

*'  That  ye  shul  ben  as  lewed  as  ben  gees.'*     Tyrwhitt, 

• make  her  fault  her  husband's  occasion,]  That  is,  repre- 
sent her  fault  as  occasioned  by  her  husband.  Sir  T.  Hanmer 
reads,  her  husband's  accusation.    Johnson. 

VOL.  VIII.  L 


146  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  activ. 

Orl.  I  must  attend  the  duke  at  dinner ;  by  two 
o'clock  I  will  be  with  thee  again. 

Ros.  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. 

Ros.  By  my  troth,  and  in  good  earnest,  and  so 
God  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  pathetical  break-promise,9  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  in- 
deed my  Rosalind :  So,  adieu. 

Ros.  Well,  time  is  the  old  justice  that  examines 
all  such  offenders,  and  let  time  try : !  Adieu ! 

{Exit  Orlando. 

J  ■  J  ivill  think  you  the  most  pathetical  break-promise,] 
The  same  epithet  occurs  again  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  and  with 
as  little  apparent  meaning : 

" most  pathetical  nit." 

Again,  in  Greene's  Never  too  late,  1590 :  "  — having  no  pa- 
theticall  impression  in  my  head,  I  had  flat  fallen  into  a  slumber." 

Steevens. 

I  bejieve,  by  pathetical  break-promise,  Rosalind  means  a 
lover  whose  falsehood  would  most  deeply  affect  his  mistress. 

•     Malone. 

1 time  is  the  old  justice  that  examines  all  such  offenders, 

and  let  time  try  .•]  So,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida : 
.    !'.  And  that  old  common  arbitrator,  Time, 
"  Will  one  day  end  it»"    Steevens. 


m  r.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  147 

Cel.  You  have  simply  misus'd  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.2 

Ros.  O  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. 

Ros.  No,  that  same  wicked  bastard  of  Venus, 
that  was  begot  of  thought,3  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,  I  cannot  be  out  of  the  sight  of  Or- 
lando :  I'll  go  find  a  shadow,  and  sigh  till  he  come.4 

Cel,  And  I'll  sleep.  \_ExeunL 

* to  her  own  nest."]    So,  in  Lodge's  Rosalynde :  And  *'  I 

pray  you  (quoth  Aliena)  if  your  own  robes  were  off,  what  mettal 
are  you  made  of,  that  you  are  so  satyricall  against  women  I  Is  it 
not  a  foule  bird  defiles  her  owne  nest  ?*'     Steevens. 

* begot  of  thought,]1  i.e.   of  melancholy.     So,  in  Julius 

Ccesar: 

" take  thought,  and  die  for  Caesar."     Steevens. 

4  ■  I'll  go  find  a  shadotu,  and  sigh  till  he  come.]  So,  in 
Macbeth : 

"  Let  us  seek  out  some  desolate  shade,  and  there 
f*  Weep  our  sad  bosoms  empty."     Steevens. 


L  2 


148  AS  YOU  LIKE  It.  act  it. 

SCENE  II. 
Another  Part  of  the  Forest. 

Enter  Jaques  and  Lords,  in  the  habit  of  Foresters. 

Jaq.  Which  is  he  that  killed  the  deer  ? 

1  Lord.  Sir,  it  was  I. 

Jaq.  Let's  present  him  to  the  duke,  like  a  Ro- 
man conqueror ;  and  it  would  do  well  to  set  the 
deer's  horns  upon  his  head,  for  a  branch  of  vic- 
tory : — Have  you  no  song,  forester,  for  this  pur- 
pose ? 

2  Lord.  Yes,  sir. 

Jaq.  Sing  it ;  'tis  no  matter  how  it  be  in  tune, 
so  it  make  noise  enough. 

SONG. 

1.  What  shall  he  have,  that  hilVd  the  deer? 

2.  His  leather  skin,  and  horns  to  xvear? 


*  His  leather  skin,  and  horns  to  •wear.']  Shakspeare  seem* 
to  have  formed  this  song  on  a  hint  afforded  by  the  novel  which 
furnished  him  with  the  plot  of  his  play.  "  What  news, 
Forrester  ?  Hast  thou  wounded  some  deere,  and  lost  him  in  the 
fall?  Care  not,  man,  for  so  small  a  losse;  thy  fees  was  but  the 
skinne,  the  shoulders,  and  the  horns.*y  Lodge's  Rosalynde,  or 
Euphues's  Golden  Legacie,  1592.  For  this  quotation  the  reader 
is  indebted  to  Mr.  Malone. 

So  likewise  in  an  ancient  MS.  entitled  The  Boke  of  Huntyng, 
that  is  cleped  Mayster  of  Game:    "  And  as  of  fees,  it  is  to 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  149 

1.  Then  sing  him  home : 
Take  thou  no  scorn,  to  wear  the  horn;6")  Jhe  JJJjJjJ1 
It  was  a  crest  ere  thou  wast  born.       3  den! 

1 .  Thy  father* s  father  wore  it; 

2.  And  thy  father  bore  it: 
All.  The  horn,  the  horn,  the  lusty  horn, 

Is  not  a  thing  to  laugh  to  scorn.  [Exeunt. 

wite  that  what  man  that  smyte  a  dere  atte  his  tree  frith  a  dethes 
stroke,  and  he  be  recovered  by  sonne  going  doune,  he  shall  haue 
the  skyn,*'  &c.     Steevens. 

6  Take  thou  no  scorn,  to  ivear  the  horn;~\  In  King  John  in  two 
parts,  1591,  a  play  which  our  author  had,  without  doubt,  atten- 
tively read,  we  find  these  lines : 

"  But  let  the  foolish  Frenchman  take  no  scorn, 

*'  If  Philip  front  him  with  an  English  horn.'*     Malone. 

Thus  also,  in  the  old  comedy  of  Grim  the  Collier  of  Croydon, 
(date  unknown.) 

" Unless  your  great  infernal  majesty 

"  Do  solemnly  proclaim,  no  devil  shall  scorn 
"  Hereafter  still  to  wear  the  goodly  horn." 
To  take  scorn  is  a  phrase  that  occurs  again  in  K.  Henry  VI. 
P.  I.  Act  IV.  sc.  iv: 

**  And  take  foul  scorn,  to  fawn  on  him  by  sending." 

Steevens. 


150  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ir. 

SCENE   III.7 

The  Forest. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Ros.    How  say  you  now  ?    Is  it  not  past  two 
o'clock  ?  and  here  much  Orlando ! 8 


7  The  foregoing  noisy  scene  was  introduced  only  to  fill  up  an 
interval,  which  is  to  represent  two  hours.  This  contraction  of 
the  time  we  might  impute  to  poor  Rosalind's  impatience,  but 
that  a  few  minutes  after  we  find  Orlando  sending  his  excuse.  I 
do  not  see  that  by  any  probable  division  of  the  Acts  this  absurdity 
can  be  obviated.    Johnson. 

8 and  here  much  Orlando  /]    Thus  the  old  copy.     Some 

of  the  modern  editors  read,  but  without  the  least  authority: 
I  wonder  much,  Orlando  is  not  here.     Steevens. 

The  word  much  should  be  explained.  It  is  an  expression  of 
latitude,  and  taken  in  various  senses.  Here's;  much  Orlando — 
i.  e.  Here  is  no  Orlando,  or  we  may  look  for  him.  We  have 
still  this  use  of  it,  as  when  we  say,  speaking  of  a  person  who  we 
suspect  will  not  keep  his  appointment,  "  Ay,  you  will  be  sure 
to  see  him  there  much.1"     Whalley. 

So  the  vulgar  yet  say,  "  I  shall  get  much  by  that  no  doubt," 
meaning  that  they  shall  get  nothing.     Malone. 

Here  much  Orlando !  is  spoken  ironically  on  Rosalind  per- 
ceiving that  Orlando  had  failed  in  his  engagement. 

Holt  White. 

Much,  in  our  author's  time,  was  an  expression  denoting  ad» 
miration.     So,  in  King  Henri/  IV.  P.  II.  Act  II.  sc.  iv : 

"  What,  with  two  points  on  your  shoulder?  much!'1'' 
Again,  in  The  Taming  of  a  Shretv: 

"  'Tis  much  I — Servant,  leave  me  and  her  alone." 

Malone. 

Much!  was  more  frequently  used  to  indicate  disdain.  See 
notes  on  the  first  of  the  two  passages  quoted  by  Mr.  Malone. 

Steevens. 


sc.  ///.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT;  151 

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  Silvius. 

Sil.  My  errand  is  to  you,  fair  youth  ;— 
My  gentle  Phebe  bid  me 9  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, 
I  am  but  as  a  guiltless  messenger. 

Ros.  Patience  herself  would  startle  at  this  letter, 
And  play  the  swaggerer  ;*  bear  this,  bear  all : 
She  says,  I  am  not  fair ;  that  I  lack  manners ; 
She  calls  me  proud  j  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, 

9 bid  me  — ]  The  old  copy  redundantly  reads — did  bid 

ine.     Steevens. 

1  Patience  herself  mould  startle  at  this  letter ■, 
And  play  the  swaggerer  ;]  So,  in  Measure  for  Measure : 
"  This  would  make  mercy  swear,  and  play  the  tyrant." 

Steevens. 


152  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  iv. 

A  freestone-colour'd  hand;2  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. 

Sil.  Sure,  it  is  hers. 

Ros.  Why,  'tis  a  boisterous  and  cruel  style, 
A  style  for  challengers  ;  why,  she  defies  me, 
Like  Turk  to  Christian  :  woman's  gentle  brain3 
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. 

Art  thou  god  to  shepherd  turn'd,      [Reads. 
That  a  maiden's  heart  hath  burn'd? — 

Can  a  woman  rail  thus  ? 
Sil.  Call  you  this  railing  ? 


*  Phele  did  •write  it. 

Ros.  Come,  come,  you  are  a  fool. 
I smv  her  hand:  she  has  a  leathern  hand, 
A  freestone-coloured  hand;]  As  this  passage  now  stands, 
the  metre  of  the  first  line  is  imperfect,  and  the  sense  of  the 
whole ;  for  why  should  Rosalind  dwell  so  much  upon  Phebe's 
hands,  unless  Silvius  had  said  something  about  them  ? — I  have 
no  doubt  but  the  line  originally  ran  thus : 

Phebe  did  write  it  with  her  own  fair  hand. 
And  then  Rosalind's  reply  will  naturally  follow.    M.  Mason. 

a woman's  gentle  brain — ]  Old  copy — women's.     Cor- 
rected by  Mr.  Rowe.     Ma  lone. 


m  til  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  153 

Ros.  Why,  thy  godhead  laid  apart, 

Warr'st  thou  with  a  woman's  heart? 

Did  you  ever  hear  such  railing  ? — 

Whiles  the  eye  of  man  did  woo  me, 
That  could  do  no  vengeance 4  to  me. — 

Meaning  me  a  beast. — 

If  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  aspect? 
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  kind5 
Will  the  faithful  offer  take 
Of  me,  and  all  that  I  can  make  ;6 
Or  else  by  him  my  love  deny, 
And  then  Til  study  how  to  die. 

Sil.  Call  you  this  chiding  ? 
Cel.  Alas,  poor  shepherd ! 

4 vengeance  — ]  is  used  for  mischief.    Johnson. 

* youth  and  kind — ]  Kind  is  the  old  word  for  nature. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra :  "  You  must  think  this,  look 
you,  that  the  worm  will  do  his  kind."     Steevens. 

6 all  that  I  can  make ;]  i.  e.  raise  as  profit  from  any 

thing.  So,  in  Measure  for  Measure :  "  He's  in  for  a  commo- 
dity of  brown  paper;  of  which  he  made  five  marks  ready 
money."     Steevens. 


154  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  iv^ 

Ros.  Do  you  pity  him  ?  no,  he  deserves  no  pity. 
— Wilt  you  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,7) 
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  j  for  here  comes  more 
company.  [Exit  Silvius. 

• 
Enter  Oliver. 

Oll  Good-morrow,  fair  ones  :  Pray  you,  if  you 
know 
Where,  in  the  purlieus 8  of  this  forest,  stands 
A  sheep-cote,  fenc'd  about  with  olive-trees  ? 

Cel.  West  of  this  place,  down  in  the  neighbour 
bottom, 
The  rank  of  osiers,  by  the  murmuring  stream, 

7 I  see,  love  hath  made  thee  a  tame  snake,)]  Tins  term 

was,  in  our  author's  time,  frequently  used  to  express  a  poor 
contemptible  fellow.     So,  in  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1600  :  **  — and 
you,  poor  snakes,  come  seldom  to  a  booty." 
Again,  in  Lord  Cromwell,  1602 : 

** the  poorest  snake, 

"  That  feeds  on  lemons,  pilchards ."     Malone. 

• purlieus  of  this  for  est, ~[  Purlieu,  says  Manwood's  Trea- 
tise on  the  Forest  Larvs,  c.  xx*  "  Is  a  certaine  territorie  of 
ground  adjoyning^unto  the  forest,  meared  and  bounded  with 
unmoveable  marks,  meeres,  and  boundaries :  which  territories 
of  ground  was  also  forest,  and  afterwards  disaforested  againe  by 
the  perambulations  made  for  the  severing  of  the  new  forest  from 
the  old."     Reed. 

Bullokar,  in  his  Expositor,  1616,  describes  a  purlieu  as  "a 
place  neere  joining  to  a  forest,  where  it  is  lawful  for  the  owner 
of  the  ground  to  hunt,  if  he  can  dispend  fortie  shillings  by  the 
yeere,  of  freeland."     Malone.  •  -  : 


so.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  155 

Left  on  your  right  hand,9  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  I  should  know  you  by  description  ; 
Such  garments,  and  such  years :   The  boy  is  fair, 
Of  female  favour,  and  bestows  himself 
Like  a  ripe  sister : 1  but  the  woman  low,2 
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  ^3  Are  you  he  ? 

Ros.  I  am  :  What  must  we  understand  by  this  ? 

Oli.  Some  of  my  shame ;  if  you  will  know  of  me 


9  Left  on  your  right  hand,']  i.  e.  passing  by  the  rank  of 
oziers,  and  leaving  them  on  your  right  hand,  you  will  reach  the 
place.    Malone. 

1 bestows  himself 

Like  a  ripe  sister :]  Of  this  quaint  phraseology  there  is  an 
example  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II :  "  How  might  we  see  Falstaff 
bestoxv  himself  to-night  in  his  true  colours  ?"     Steevens. 

*  but  the  woman  lovo,~\    But,  which  is  not  in  the  old 

copy,  was  added  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  to  supply  the 
metre.  I  suspect  it  is  not  the  word  omitted,  but  have  nothing 
better  to  propose.    Malone. 

3 napjkin ;]  i.  e.  handkerchief.     Ray  says,  that  a  pocket 

handkerchief  is  so  called  about  Sheffield,  in  Yorkshire.  So,  in 
Greene's  Never  too  Late,  1616:  "  I  can  wet  one  of  my  new 
lockram  napkins  with  weeping." 

Napery,  indeed,  signifies  linen  in  general.  So,  in  Decker'6 
Honest  Whore,  1635 : 

" pr'ythee  put  me  into  wholesome  napery." 

Again,  in  Chapman's  May-Day,  1611:  "  Besides  your  muni- 
tion of  manchet  napery  plates."     Naperia,  ItaL     Steevens. 


156  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  ir. 

What  man  I  am,  and  how,  and  why,  and  where 
This  handkerchief  was  stain'd. 

Cel.  I  pray  you,  tell  it. 

Oll  When  last  the  young  Orlando  parted  from 
you, 
He  left  a  promise  to  return  again 
Within  an  hour ; 4  and,  pacing  through  the  forest, 
Chewing  the  food  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy,5 
Lo,  what  befel !  he  threw  his  eye  aside, 
And,  mark,  what  object  did  present  itself! 
Under  an  oak,6  whose  boughs  were  moss'd  with  age, 
And  high  top  bald  with  dry  antiquity, 


4  Within  an  hour ;]  We  must  read — within  two  hours. 

Johnson. 

May  not  within  an  hour  signify  within  a  certain  time? 

Tyrwhitt. 

* of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy,]  i.  e.  love,  which  is  always 

thus  described  by  our  old  poets,  as  composed  of  contraries.   See 
a  note  on  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  I.  sc.  ii. 

So,  in  Lodge's  Rosalynde,  1590:  *'  I  have  noted  the  variable 
disposition  of  fancy, — a  bitter  pleasure  wrapt  in  sweet  preju- 
dice.'*     Malone. 

6  Under  an  oak,  &c]  The  ancient  copy  reads — Under  an  old 
oak  ;  but  as  this  epithet  hurts  the  measure,  without  improvement 
of  the  sense,  (for  we  are  told  in  the  same  line  that  its  "  boughs 
were  moss'd  with  age,'*  and  afterwards,  that  its  top  was  "  bald 
with  dry  antiquity")  I  have  omitted  old,  as  an  unquestionable 
interpolation.     Steevens. 

Under  an  oak,  &c]  The  passage  stands  thus  in  Lodge's 
novel :  **  Saladyne,  wearie  with  wandring  up  and  downe,  and 
hungry  with  long  fasting,  finding  a  little  cave  by  the  side  of  a 
thicket,  eating  such  fruite  as  the  forrest  did  affoord,  and  con- 
tenting, himself  with  such  drinke  as  nature  had  provided,  and 
thirst  made  delicate,  after  his  repast  he  fell  into  a  dead  sleepe. 
As  thus  he  lay,  a  hungry  lyon  came  hunting  downe  the  edge  of 
the  grove  for  pray,  and  espying  Saladyne,  began  to  ceaze  upon 
him :  but  seeing  he  lay  still  without  any  motion,  he  left  to 
touch  him,  for  that  lyons  hate  to  pray  on  dead  carkasses :  and 
yet  desirous  to  have  some  foode,  the  lyon  lay  downe  and  watcht 


sc.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  157 

A  wretched  ragged  man,  o'ergrown  with  hair, 

Lay  sleeping  on  his  back :  about  his  neck 

A  green  and  gilded  snake  had  wreath'd  itself, 

Who  with  her  head,  nimble  in  threats,  approach'd 

The  opening  of  his  mouth  ;  but  suddenly 

Seeing  Orlando,  it  unlink'd  itself, 

And  with  indented  glides  did  slip  away 

Into  a  bush  :  under  which  bush's  shade 

A  lioness,  with  udders  all  drawn  dry,7 

Lay  couching,  head  on  ground,  with  catlike  watch, 

When  that  the  sleeping  man  should  stir  j  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.  O,  I  have  heard  him  speak  of  that  same 
brother  j 


to  see  if  he  would  stirre.  While  thus  Saladyne  slept  secure, 
fortune  that  was  careful  of  her  champion,  began  to  smile,  and 
brought  it  so  to  passe,  that  Rosader  (having  stricken  a  deere  that 
but  lightly  hurt  fled  through  the  thicket)  came  pacing  downe 
by  the  grove  with  a  boare-speare  in  his  hande  in  great  haste,  he 
spyed  where  a  man  lay  asleepe,  and  a  ly on  fast  by  him :  amazed 
at  this  sight,  as  he  stood  gazing,  his  nose  on  the  sodaine  bledde, 
which  made  him  conjecture  it  was  some  friend  of  his.  Where- 
upon drawing  more  nigh,  he  might  easily  discerne  his  visage, 
and  perceived  by  his  phisnomie  that  it  was  his  brother  Saladyne, 
which  drave  Rosader  into  a  deepe  passion,  as  a  man  perplexed, 

&c. But  the  present  time  craved  no  such  doubting  ambages  r 

for  he  must  eyther  resolve  to  hazard  his  life  for  his  reliefe,  or 
else  steale  away  and  leave  him  to  the  crueltie  of  the  lyon.  In 
which  doubt  hee  thus  briefly  debated,"  &c.     Steevens. 

7  A  lioness,  with  udders  all  drawn  dry,]  So,  in  Arden  of  Fever* 
shorn,  1592: 


the  starven  lioness 


"  When  she  is  dry-suckt  of  her  eager  young." 

Steevens. 


158  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  jr. 

And  he  did  render  him 8  the  most  unnatural 
That  liv'd  'mongst  men. 

Oli.  And  well  he  might  so  do, 

For  well  I  know  he  was  unnatural. 

Ros.  But,  to  Orlando ; — Did  he  leave  him  there, 
Food  to  the  suck'd  and  hungry  lioness  ? 

Oli.  Twice  did  he  turn  his  back,  and  purposed  so : 
But  kindness,  nobler  ever  than  revenge, 
And  nature,  stronger  than  his  just  occasion, 
Made  him  give  battle  to  the  lioness, 
Who  quickly  fell  before  him  ;  in  which  hurtling 9 
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  I  j  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. 

•  And  he  did  render  him  — ]  i.  e.  describe  him.    M alone. 

So>  in  Cymbeline: 

"  May  drive  us  to  a  render  where  we  have  liy'd." 

Steevens. 
9 in  which  hurtling — ]    To  hurtle  is  to  move  with  im- 
petuosity and  tumult.     So,  in  Jidius  Ccesar  : 
"  A  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air." 
Again,  in  Nash's  Lenten  Sttiff",  &c.  1591:  " — hearing  of  the 
gangs  of  good  fellows  that  hurtled  and  bustled  thither,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Spenser*s  Fairy  Queen,  B.  I.  c.  iv : 

"  All  hurtlen  forth,  and  she  with  princely  pace,"  &c. 
Again,  B.  I.  c.  viii : 

"  Came  hurtling  in  full  fierce,  and  forc'd  the  knight 
retire."     Steevens. 


sc.  m  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  159 

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  j ' • 

In  brief,  he  led  me  to  the  gentle  duke, 

Who  gave  me  fresh  array,  and  entertainment, 

Committing  me  unto  my  brother's  love ; 

Who  led  me  instantly  unto  his  cave, 

There  ^tripp'd  himself,  and  here  upon  his  arm 

The  lioness  had  torn  some  flesh  away, 

Which  all  this  while  had  bled ;  and  now  he  fainted, 

And  cry'd,  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  this  blood;2  unto  the  shepherd  youth 

That  he  in  sport  doth  call  his  Rosalind. 

Cel.  Why,  how  now,  Ganymede  ?  sweet  Gany- 
mede ?  [Rosalind  faints. 

Oli.  Many  will  swoon  when  they  do  look  on 
blood. 


1  As,  Iiovo  I  came  into  that  desert  place  ;]  I  believe,  a  line  fol- 
lowing this  has  been  lost.     Malone. 

As,  in  this  place,  signifies — as  for  instance.     So,  in  Hamlet : 
"  As,  stars  with  trains  of  fire,"  &c> 
I  suspect  no  omission.     Steevens. 

*  Dy'd  in  this  blood;']  Thus  the  old  copy.  The  editor  of  the 
second  folio  changed  this  blood  unnecessarily  to — his  blood. 
Oliver  points  to  the  handkerchief,  when  he  presents  it;  and 
Rosalind  could  not  doubt  whose  blood  it  was  after  the  account 
that  had  been  before  given.     Malone. 

Perhaps  the  change  of  this  into  his,  is  imputable  only  to  the 
compositor,  who  casually  omitted  the  t.  Either  reading  may 
serve ;  and  certainly  that  of  the  second  folio  is  not  the  worst, 
because  it  prevents  the  disgusting  repetition  of  the  pronoun  this, 
with  which  the  present  speech  is  infested.    Steevens. 


160  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  iv. 

Cel.  There  is  more  in  it: — Cousin — Ganymede  I3 

Oli.  Look,  he  recovers. 

Ros.  I  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.  I  do  so,  I  confess  it.  Ah,  sir,4  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,  I  pray  you, 
commend  my  counterfeiting  to  him : — Will  you 
go  ?  \_Exeunt. 

* Cousin — Ganymede  /]  Celia,  in  her  first  fright,  forgets 

Rosalind's  character  and  disguise,  and  calls  out  cousin,  then  re- 
collects herself,  and  says,  Ganymede.    Johnson. 

4  Ah,  sir,]  The  old  copy  reads — Ah,  sirra,  &c.  Corrected 
by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.    Malone. 


act  v.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  161 

■  * 

ACT  V.    SCENE  I. 

The  same. 

Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

,   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  Mar-text.  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. 

Enter  William. 

Touch.  It  is  meat  and  drink  to  me  to  see  a 
clown:  By  my  troth,  we  that  have  good  wits,  have 
much  to  answer  for ;  we  shall  be  flouting ;  we  can- 
not hold. 

Will.  Good  even,  Audrey. 

Aud.  God  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. 

VOL.  VIII.  M 


162  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

Touch.  A  fair  name:  Wast  born  i*  the  forest  here? 

Will.  Ay,  sir,  I  thank  God. 

Touch.  Thank  God; — a  good  answer :  Art  rich  ? 

Will.  'Faith,  sir,  so,  so. 

Touch.  So,  so,  is  good,  very  good,  very  excellent 
good  : — and  yet  it  is  not ;  it  is  but  so  so.  Art  thou 
wise? 

Will.  Ay,  sir,  I  have  a  pretty  wit. 

Touch.  Why,  thou  say'st  well.  I  do  now  re- 
member a  saying ;  The  fool  doth  think  he  is  wise, 
but  the  wise  man  knows  himself  to  be  a  fool.  The 
heathen  philosopher,  when  he  had  a  desire  to  eat  a 
grape,  would  open  his  lips  when  he  put  it  into  his 
mouth  ; 6  meaning  thereby,  that  grapes  were  made 
to  eat,  and  lips  to  open.     You  do  love  this  maid  ?° 

Will.  I  do,  sir. 

Touch.  Give  me  your  hand :  Art  thou  learned  ? 

Will.  No,  sir. 


4  The  heathen  philosopher,  tvhen  he  had  a  desire  to  eat  a 
grape,  &c]  This  was  designed  as  a  sneer  on  the  several  trifling 
and  insignificant  sayings  and  actions,  recorded  of  the  ancient 
philosophers,  by  the  writers  of  their  lives,  such  as  Diogenes 
Laertius,  Philostratus,  Eunapius,  &c.  as  appears  from  its  being 
introduced  by  one  of  their  wise  sayings.     Warburton. 

A  book  called  The  Dictes  and  Sayings  of  the  Philosophers, 
was  printed  by  Caxton  in  1477.  It  was  translated  out  of  French 
into  English  by  Lord  Rivers.  From  this  performance,  or  some 
republication  of  it,Shakspeare's  knowledge  of  these  philosophical 
trifles  might  be  derived.     Steevens. 

meaning  thereby,  that  grapes  toere  made  to  eat,  and 


lips  to  open.  You  do  love  this  maid  ?]  Part  of  this  dialogue 
seems  to  have  grown  out  of  the  novel  on  which  the  play  is 
formed :  "  Phebe  is  no  latice  for  your  lips,  and  her  grapes  hang 
bo  hie,  that  gaze  at  them  you  may,  but  touch  them  you  cannot." 

Malone. 


sc.  r.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  J  63 

Touch.  Then  learn  this  of  me ;  To  have,  is  to 
have :  For  it  is  a  figure  in  rhetorick,  that  drink, 
being  poured  out  of  a  cup  into  a  glass,  by  filling 
the  one  doth  empty  the  other :  For  all  your  writers 
do  consent,  that  ipse  is  he  j  now  you  are  not  ipse, 
for  I  am  he. 

Will.  Which  he,  sir  ? 

Touch.  He,  sir,  that  must  marry  this  woman : 
Therefore,  you  clown,  abandon, — which  is  in  the 
vulgar,  leave, — the  society, — which  in  the  boorish 
is,  company, — of  this  female, — which  in  the  com- 
mon is, — woman,  which  together  is,  abandon  the 
Society  of  this  female ;  or,  clown  thou  perishest ; 
or,  to  thy  better  understanding,  diest ;  to  wit,  I  kill 
thee,7  make  thee  away,  translate  thy  life  into  death, 
thy  liberty  into  bondage  :  I  will  deal  in  poison  with 
thee,  or  in  bastinado,  or  in  steel ;  I  will  bandy  with 
thee  in  faction  ;  I  will  o'er-run  thee  with  policy ; 
I  will  kill  thee  a  hundred  and  fifty  ways  ;  therefore 
tremble,  and  depart. 

Aud.  Do,  good  William. 

Will.  God  rest  you  merry,  sir.  [Exit. 

Enter  Corin. 

Cor.  Our  master  and  mistress  seek  you ;  come, 
away,  away. 

Touch.  Trip,  Audrey,  trip,  Audrey  j — I  attend, 
I  attend.  [Exeunt. 


7 to  tvit,  I  kill  thee,"]    The  old  copy  reads — "  or,  to  wit, 

I  kill  thee."    I  have  omitted  the  impertinent  conjunction  or,  by 
the  advice  of  Dr.  Farmer.    Steevens. 


M  2 


164  .    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

SCENE  II. 

T)ie  same* 

Enter  Orlando  and  Oliver. 

Orl.  Is't  possible,8  that  on  so  little  acquaintance 
you  should  like  her  ?  that,  but  seeing,  you  should 
love  her?  and,  loving,  woo?  and,  wooing,  she* 
should  grant  ?  and  will  you  persever  to  enjoy  her  ? 

Oli.  Neither  call  the  giddiness  of  it  in  question, 
the  poverty  of  her,  the  small  acquaintance,  my 
sudden  wooing,  nor  her  sudden  consenting  j 9  but 

8  Is't  possible,  &c]  Shakspeare,  by  putting  this  question  into 
the  mouth  of  Orlando,  seems  to  have  been  aware  of  the  impro- 
priety which  he  had  been  guilty  of  by  deserting  his  original.  In 
Lodge's  novel,  the  elder  brother  is  instrumental  in  saving  Aliena 
from  a  band  of  ruffians,  who  "  thought  to  steal  her  away,  and 
to  give  her  to  the  king  for  a  present,  hoping,  because  the  king 
was  a  great  leacher,  by  such  a  gift  to  purchase  all  their  pardons.'* 
Without  the  intervention  of  this  circumstance,  the  passion  of 
Aliena  appears  to  be  very  hasty  indeed. 

Our  author's  acquaintance,  however,  with  the  manners  of 
heroines  in  romances,  perhaps  rendered  him  occasionally  inat- 
tentive, as  in  the  present  instance,  to  probability.  In  The 
Sotvdon  of  Babyloyne,  an  ancient  MS.  often  quoted  by  me  on 
other  occasions,  I  find  the  following  very  singular  confession 
from  the  mouth  of  a  Princess: 

"  Be  ye  not  the  duke  of  Burgoyne  sir  Gy, 

U  Nevewe  unto  king  Charles  so  fre  ? 

"  Noe,  certes  lady,  it  is  not  I, 

"  It  is  yonder  knight  that  ye  may  see. 

**  A,  him  have  /  loved  many  a  day, 

"  And  yet  know  I  him  noght, 

"  For  his  love  I  do  all  that  I  maye, 

"  To  chere  you  with  dede  and  thought."     P.  47. 

Steevens. 

9 nor  her  sudden  consenting ;]    Old  copy—nor  sudden. 

Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.    Malone. 


sc.  ii.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.   -  165 

say  with  me,  I  love  Aliena ;  say  with  her,  that  she 
loves  me ;  consent  with  both,  that  we  may  enjoy 
each  other :  it  shall  be  to  your  good ;  for  my  fa- 
ther's house,  and  all  the  revenue  that  was  old  sir 
Rowland's,  will  I  estate  upon  you,  and  here  live 
and  die  a  shepherd. 

Enter  Rosalind. 

Orl.  You  have  my  consent.  Let  your  wedding 
be  to-morrow :  thither  will  I  invite  the  duke,  and 
all  his  contented  followers :  Go  you,  and  prepare 
Aliena  ;  for,  look  you,  here  comes  my  Rosalind. 

Ros.  God  save  you,  brother. 

Oli.  And  you,  fair  sister.1 

Ros.  O,  my  dear  Orlando,  how  it  grieves  me  to 
see  thee  wear  thy  heart  in  a  scarf. 

Orl.  It  is  my  arm. 

Ros.  I  thought,  thy  heart  had  been  wounded 
with  the  claws  of  a  lion. 

Orl.  Wounded  it  is,  but  with  the  eyes  of  a 
lady. 

Ros.  Did  your  brother  tell  you  how  I  counter- 
feited to  swoon,  when  he  showed  me  your  handker- 
chief? 

Orl.  Ay,  and  greater  wonders  than  that. 

Ros.  O,  I  know  where  you  are  : — rNay,  'tis  true : 
there  was  never  any  thing  so  sudden,  but  the  fight 

1  And  you,  fair  sister.']  I  know  not  why  Oliver  should  call 
Rosalind  sister.  He  takes  her  yet  to  be  a  man.  I  suppose  we 
should  read — And  you,  and  your  fair  sister.     Johnson. 

Oliver  speaks  to  her  in  the  character  she  had  assumed,  of  a 
woman  courted  by  Orlando  his  brother.     Chamier. 


m  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

of  two  rams,2  and  Caesar's  thrasonical  brag  of — I 
came,  saw,  and  overcame:  For  your  brother  and  my 
sister  no  sooner  met,  but  they  looked ;  no  sooner 
looked,  but  they  loved ;  no  sooner  loved,  but  they 
sighed ;  no  sooner  sighed,  but  they  asked  one  an- 
other the  reason ;  no  sooner  knew  the  reason,  but 
they  sought  the  remedy :  and  in  these  degrees  have 
they  made  a  pair  of  stairs  to  marriage,  which  they 
will  climb  incontinent,  or  else  be  incontinent  be- 
fore marriage :  they  are  in  the  very  wrath  of  love, 
and  they  will  together ;  clubs  cannot  part  them.3 

Orl.  They  shall  be  married  to-morrow ;  and  I 
will  bid  the  duke  to  the  nuptial.  But,  O,  how  bitter 
a  thing  it  is  to  look  into  happiness  through  another 
man's  eyes !  By  so  much  the  more  shall  I  to-mor- 
row be  at  the  height  of  heart-heaviness,  by  how 
much  I  shall  think  my  brother  happy,  in  having 
what  he  wishes  for. 


* never  any  thing  so  sudden,  but  the  fight  of  two  rams,] 

So,  in  Laneham's  Account  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  Entertainment 
at  Kennelvoorth  Castle,  1575  :  "  — ootrageous  in  their  racez  az 
rams  at  their  rut."     Steevens. 

3 clubs  cannot  part  them.]  It  appears  from  many  of  our 

old  dramas,  that,  in  our  author's  time,  it  was  a  common  custom, 
on  the  breaking  out  of  a  fray,  to  call  out  "  Clubs — Clubs"  to 
part  the  combatants. 

So,  in  Titus  Andronicus : 

"  Clubs,  clubs;  these  lovers  will  not  keep  the  peace." 

The  preceding  words — "  they  are  in  the  very  wrath  of  love," 
show  that  our  author  had  this  in  contemplation.     Malone. 

So,  in  the  First  Part  of  King  Henry  VI.  when  the  Mayor  of 
London  is  endeavouring  to  put  a  stop  to  the  combat  between 
the  partisans  of  Glocester  and  Winchester,  he  says, 

"  I'll  call  for  clubs,  if  you  will  not  away." 
And  in  Henry  VIII.  the  Porter  says,  "  I  missed  the  meteor 
once,  and  hit  that  woman,  who  cried  out  Clubs  !  when  I  might 
see  from  far  some  forty  truncheoneers  draw  to  her  succour." 

M.  Masok. 


sc.il  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  167 

Ros.  Why  then,  to-morrow  I  cannot  serve  your 
turn  for  Rosalind  ? 

Orl.  I  can  live  no  longer  by  thinking. 

Ros.  I  will  weary  you  no  longer  then  with  idle 
talking.  Know  of  me  then,  (for  now  I  speak  to 
some  purpose,)  that  I  know  you  are  a  gentleman  of 
good  Conceit:  I  speak  not  this,  that  you  should  bear 
a  good  opinion  of  my  knowledge,  insomuch,  I  say, 
I  know  you  are  -,  neither  do  I  labour  for  a  greater 
esteem  than  may  in  some  little  measure  draw  a  be- 
lief from  you,  to  do  yourself  good,  anil  not  to  grace 
me.  Believe  then,  if  you  please,  that  I  can  do 
strange  things :  I  have,  since  I  was  three  years  old, 
conversed  with  a  magician,  most  profound  in  this 
art,  and  yet  not  damnable.  If  you  do  love  Rosalind 
so  near  the  heart  as  your  gesture  cries  it  out,  when 
your  brother  marries  Aliena,  shall  you  marry  her: 
I  know  into  what  straits  of  fortune  she  is  driven ; 
and  it  is  not  impossible  to  me,  if  it  appear  not  in- 
convenient to  you,  to  set  her  before  your  eyes  to- 
morrow, human  as  she  is,4  and  without  any  danger. 

Orl.  Speakest  thou  in  sober  meanings  ? 

Ros.  By  my  life,  I  do ;  which  I  tender  dearly, 
though  I  say  I  am  a  magician  :5  Therefore,  put  you 


4 human  as  she  is,"]   That  is,  not  a  phantom,  but  the 

real  Rosalind,  without  any  of  the  danger  generally  conceived  to 
attend  the  rites  of  incantation.    Johnson. 

* which  I  tender  dearly,  though  I  say  I  am  a  magician :] 

Though  I  pretend  to  be  a  magician,  and  therefore  might  be  sup- 
posed able  to  elude  death.     Malone. 

This  explanation  cannot  be  right,  as  no  magician  was  ever 
supposed  to  possess  the  art  of  eluding  death.  Dr.  Warburton 
properly  remarks,  that  this  play  "  was  written  in  King  James's 
time,  when  there  was  a  severe  inquisition  after  witches  and 
magicians."     It  was  natural  therefore  for  one  who  called  herself 


168  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  ^rr. 

in  your  best  array,  bid  your  friends  ;6  for  if  you  will 
be  married  to-morrow,  you  shall ;  and  to  Rosalind, 
if  you  will. 

Enter  Silvius  and  Phebe. 

Look,  here  comes  a  lover  of  mine,  and  a  lover  of 
hers. 

Phe.  Youth,  you  have  done  me  much  ungentle- 
ness, 
To  show  the  letter  that  I  writ  to  you. 

Ros.  I  care  not,  if  I  have  :  it  is  my  study, 
To  seem  despiteful  and  ungentle  to  you : 
You  are  there  followed  by  a  faithful  shepherd ; 
Look  upon  him,  love  him  ;  he  worships  you. 

Phe.  Good  shepherd,  tell  this  youth  what  'tis 
to  love. 

Sil.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  sighs  and  tears  ;— 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 

Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 

Orl.  And  I  for  Rosalind. 

Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 

Sil.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  faith  and  service ; — 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 

Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 

Orl.  And  I  for  Rosalind. 

Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 

a  magician,  to  allude  to  the  danger,  in  which  her  avowal,  had 
it  been  a  serious  one,  would  have  involved  her.     Ste evens. 

6 bid  your  friends  ;]  i.  e.  invite  your  friends.     Reed. 

So,  in  Titus  Andronicus: 

"  I  am  not  bid  to  wait  upon  this  bride."     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  169 

Sil.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  fantasy, 
All  made  of  passion,  and  all  made  of  wishes  ; 
All  adoration,  duty  and  observance, 
All  humbleness,  all  patience,  and  impatience, 
All  purity,  ail  trial,  all  observance ; 7 — 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 

Phe.  And  so  am  I  for  Ganymede. 

Orl.  And  so  am  I  for  Rosalind. 

Ros.  And  so  am  I  for  no  woman. 

Phe.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love 
you?  [To  Rosalind. 

Sil.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love 
you  ?  [To  Phebe. 

Orl*  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love 
you? 

Ros.  Who  do  you  speak  to,8  why  blame  you  me 
to  love  you  ? 

Orl.  To  her,  that  is  not  here,  nor  doth  not  hear. 

Ros.  Pray  you,  no  more  of  this ;  'tis  like  the 
howling  of  Irish  wolves  against  the  moon.9 — I  will 
help  you,  [To  Silvius]  if  I  can: — I  would  love 


7  all  trial,  all  observance ;]  I  suspect  our  author  wrote — 

all  obedience.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the  compositor  caught 
observance  from  the  line  above ;  and  very  unlikely  that  the  same 
word  should  have  been  set  down  twice  by  Shakspeare  so  close 
to  each  other.    Malone. 

Read — obeisance.     The  word  observance  is  evidently  repeated 
by  an  error  of  the  press.     Ritson. 

8  Who  do  you  speak  to,]     Old  copy — Why  do  you  speak  too. 
Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.    Malone. 

0  'tis  like  the  howling  of  Irish  wolves  against  the  moon. ] 

This  is  borrowed  from  Lodge's  Rosalynde,  1592:  "  I  tell  thee, 
Montanus,  in  courting  Phcebe,  thou  Darkest  with  the  wolves  of 
Syria,  against  the  moonc"     Malone. 


170  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  r. 

you,  [To  Phebe]  if  I  could. — To-morrow  meet 
me  all  together.— I  will  marry  you,  [To  Phebe] 
if  ever  I  marry  woman,  and  I'll  be  married  to- 
morrow : — I  will  satisfy  you,  [To  Orlando]  if  ever 
I  satisfied  man,  and  you  shall  be  married  to-mor- 
row:— I  will  content  you,  [To  Silvius]  if  what 
pleases  you  contents  you,  and  you  shall  be  mar- 
ried to-morrow. — As  you  [To  Orlando]  love  Ro- 
salind, meet; — as  you,  [To  Silvius]  love  Phebe, 
meet ;  And  as  I  love  no  woman,  I'll  meet. — So, 
fare  you  well ;  I  have  left  you  commands. 

Sil.  I'll  not  fail,  if  I  live. 

The.  Nor  I. 

Orl.  Nor  I. 

\_Exeunt. 


SCENE    III. 

The  same. 

Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Touch.  To-morrow  is  the  joyful  day,  Audrey; 
to-morrow  will  we  be  married. 

Aud.  I  do  desire  it  with  all  my  heart:  and  I 
hope  it  is  no  dishonest  desire,  to  desire  to  be  a 
woman  of  the  world.1  Here  comes  two  of  the 
banished  duke's  pages. 


1  a  woman  of  the  world.]     To  go  to  the  world,  is  to  be 

married.  So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing:  "  Thus  (says  Bea- 
trice) every  one  goes  to  the  world,  but  I." 

An  anonymous  writer  supposes,  that  in  this  phrase  there  is  an 
allusion  to  Saint  Luke's  Gospel,  xx.  34 :  "  The  children  of  this 
world  marry,  and  are  given  in  marriage."     Steevens. 


sc.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  171 

Enter  two  Pages. 

1  Page.  Well  met,  honest  gentleman. 

Touch.  By  my  troth,  well  met :  Come,  sit,  sit, 
and  a  song. 

2  Page.  We  are  for  you :  sit  i'the  middle. 

1  Page.  Shall  we  clap  into't  roundly,  without 
hawking,  or  spitting,  or  saying  we  are  hoarse; 
which  are  the  only  prologues  to  a  bad  voice  ? 

2  Page.  Ffaith,  i'faith ;  and  both  in  a  tune, 
like  two  gypsies  on  a  horse. 

SONG.2 

I. 

It  was  a  lover,  and  his  lass. 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 
That  o'er  the  green  corn-field  did  pass 

In  the  spring  time,  the  only  pretty  rank  time? 
When  birds  do  sing,  hey  ding  a  ding,  ding; 
Sweet  lovers  love  the  spring. 


*  The  stanzas  of  this  song  are  in  all  the  editions  evidently 
transposed :  as  I  have  regulated  them,  that  which  in  the  former 
copies  was  the  second  stanza  is  now  the  last. 

The  same  transposition  of  these  stanzas  is  made  by  Dr.  Thirlby, 
in  a  copy  containing  some  notes  on  the  margin,  which  I  have 
perused  by  the  favour  of  Sir  Edward  Walpole.    Johnson. 

3  the  only  pretty  rank  time,"]     Thus  the  modern  editors. 

The  old  copy  reads : 

In  the  spring  time,  the  onely  pretty  rang  time. 
I  think  we  should  read : 

In  the  spring  time,  the  only  pretty  ring  time. 
i.  e.  the  aptest  season  for  marriage ;  or,  the  word  only,  for  the 
sake  of  equality  of  metre,  may  be  omitted.     Steevens. 


172  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 


II- 

Between  the  acres  of  the  rye, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 
These  pretty  countryfolks  would  lie. 

In  spring  time,  &c. 

III. 

This  carol  they  began  that  hour, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 
How  that  a  life  was  but  a  flower 

In  spr'mg  time,  &c. 

IV. 

And  therefore  take  the  present  time, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino; 

For  love  is  crowned  with  the  prime 
In  spring  time,  &c. 

Touch,  Truly,  young  gentlemen,  though  there 
was  no  great  matter  in  the  ditty,  yet  the  note 
was  very  untuneable.4 


The  old  copy  reads — rang  time.  The  emendation  was  made 
by  Dr.  Johnson.  Mr.  Pope  and  the  three  subsequent  editors 
read— the  pretty  spring  time.  Mr.  Steevens  proposes — "  ring 
time,  i.  e.  the  aptest  season  for  marriage."  The  passage  does 
not  deserve  much  consideration.     Malone. 

In  confirmation  of  Mr.  Steevens's  reading,  it  appears  from 
the  old  calendars  that  the  spring  was  the  season  of  marriage. 

Douce. 

4  Truly,  young  gentlemen,  though  there  was  no  great  matter 
in  the  ditty,  yet  the  note  was  very  untuneable.]  Though  it  is 
thus  in  all  the  printed  copies,  it  is  evident,  from  the  sequel  of 
the  dialogue,  that  the  poet  wrote  as  I  have  reformed  in  my  text, 


sc.  in.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  173 

1  Page.  You  are  deceived,  sir ;  we  kept  time, 
we  lost  not  our  time. 

Touch.  By  my  troth,  yes ;  I  count  it  but  time 
lost  to  hear  such  a  foolish  song.  God  be  with 
you ;  and  God  mend  your  voices !  Come,  Audrey. 

[Exeunt. 

untimeable. — Time  and  tune,  are  frequently  misprinted  for  one 
another  in  the  old  editions  of  Shakspeare.     Theobald. 

This  emendation  is  received,  I  think,  very  undeservedly,  by 
Dr.  Warburton.     Johnson. 

The  reply  of  the  Page  proves  to  me,  beyond  any  possibility 
of  doubt,  that  we  ought  to  read  untimeable,  instead  of  untuneable, 
notwithstanding  Johnson  rejects  the  amendment  as  unnecessary. 
A  mistake  of  a  similar  nature  occurs  in  Twelfth-Night. 

M.  Mason. 

.  The  sense  of  the  old  reading  seems  to  be — Though  the  words 
of  the  song  were  trifling,  the  musick  was  not  (as  might  have  been 
expected)  good  enough  to  compensate  their  defect*     Steevens. 


174  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  r. 

SCENE  IV. 

Another  Part  of  the  Forest. 

Enter  Duke  senior,  Amiens,  Jaques,  Orlando, 
Oliver,  and  Celia. 

Duke  S.  Dost  thou  believe,  Orlando,  that  the 
boy 
Can  do  all  this  that  he  hath  promised  ? 

Orl.  I  sometimes  do  believe,  and  sometimes  do 
not ; 
As  those  that  fear  they  hope,  and  know  they  fear.5 

*  As  those  thai  fear  they  hope,  and  know  they  fear."\  This 
strange  nonsense  should  be  read  thus : 

As  those  that  fear  their  hap,  and  know  their/ear. 
i.  e.  As  those  that  fear  the  issue  of  a  thing  when  they  know 
their  fear  to  be  well  grounded.    Warburton. 

The  depravation  of  this  line  is  evident,  but  I  do  not  think  the 
learned  commentator's  emendation  very  happy.     I  read  thus : 

As  those  that  fear  with  hope,  and  hope  with  fear. 
Or  thus,  with  less  alteration : 

As  those  that  fear,  they  hope,  and  now  they  fear. 

Johnson. 

The  author  of  The  Revisal  would  read : 

As  those  that  fear  their  hope,  and  knoiv  theirs/ear. 

Steevens. 

Perhaps  we  might  read : 

As  those  that  feign  they  hope,  and  know  they  fear. 

JJlackstone. 

I  would  read : 

As  those  that  fear,  then  hope ;  and  know,  then/ear. 

Musgrave. 

I  have  little  doubt  but  it  should  run  thus : 

As  those  who  fearing  hope,  and  hopingfear. 

This  strongly  expresses  the  state  of  mind  which  Orlando  was 
in  at  that  time ;  and  if  the  words  fearing  and  hoping  were 
contracted  in  the  original  copy,  and  written  thus  -.—fear* — hops 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  175 

Enter  Rosalind,  Silvius,  and  Phebe. 

Ros.  Patience  once  more,  whiles  our  compact 

is  urg'd : 

You  say,  if  I  bring  in  your  Rosalind, 

[To  the  Duke. 
You  will  bestow  her  on  Orlando  here  ? 

Duke  S.  That  would  I,  had  I  kingdoms  to  give 
with  her. 

Ros.  And  you  say,  you  will  have  her,  when  I 
bring  her  ?  [To  Orlando. 

Orl.  That  would  I,  were  I  of  all  kingdoms  king. 

Ros.  You  say,  you'll  marry  me,  if  I  be  willing  ? 

[To  Phebe. 

Phe.  That  will  I,  should  I  die  the  hour  after. 

Ros.  But,  if  you  do  refuse  to  marry  me, 
You'll  give  yourself  to  this  most  faithful  shepherd  ? 

Phe.  So  is  the  bargain. 

Ros.  You  say,  that  you'll  have  Phebe,  if  she  will? 

[To  Silvius. 

Sil.  Though  to  have  her  and  death  were  both 
one  thing. 

Ros.  I  have  promised  to  make  all  this  matter  even. 


(a  practice  not  unusual  at  this  day)  the  g  might  easily  have 
been  mistaken  for  y,  a  common  abbreviation  of  they. 

M.  Mason. 

I  believe  this  line  requires  no  other  alteration  than  the  addi- 
tion of  a  semi-colon : 

As  those  that  fear  ;  they  hope,  and  know  they  fear. 

Henley. 

The  meaning,  I  think,  is,  As  those  wko  fear, — they,  even 
those  very  persons,  entertain  hopes,  that  their  fears  will  not  be 
realized ;  and  yet  at  the  same  time  they  well  knoxo  that  there  is 
reason  for  their  fears.    Malone. 


176  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

Keep  you  your   word,  O   duke,  to   give  your 

daughter ; — 
You  yours,  Orlando,  to  receive  his  daughter : — 
Keep  your  word,  Phebe,"  that  you'll  marry  me ; 
Or  else,  refusing  me,  to  wed  this  shepherd : — 
Keep  your  word,  Silvius,  that  you'll  marry  her, 
If  she  refuse  me : — and  from  hence  I  go, 
To  make  these  doubts  all  even.7 

\_Exeunt  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Duke  S.  I  do  remember  in  this  shepherd-boy 
Some  lively  touches  of  my  daughter's  favour. 

Orl,  My  lord,  the  first  time  that  I  ever  saw  him, 
Methought  he  was  a  brother  to  your  daughter : 
But,  my  good  lord,  this  boy  is  forest-born ; 
And  hath  been  tutor'd  in  the  rudiments 
Of  many  desperate  studies  by  his  uncle, 
Whom  he  reports  to  be  a  great  magician, 
Obscured  in  the  circle  of  this  forest. 


Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Jaq.  There  is,  sure,  another  flood  toward,  and 
these  couples  are  coming  to  the  ark !  Here  comes 
a  pair  of  very  strange  beasts,  which  in  all  tongues 
are  called  fools.8 


6  Keep  your  luord,  Phebe^\  The  old  copy  reads — Keep  you 
your  word ;  the  compositor's  eye  having  probably  glanced  on 
the  line  next  but  one  above.     Corrected  by  Mr.  Pope. 

Malone. 

7  To  make  these  doubts  all  even.]  Thus,  in  Measure  for 
Measure : 

" yet  death  we  fear, 

"  That  makes  these  odds  all  even."     Steevens. 

•  Here  comes  a  pair  of  very  strange  beasts,  &c]  What  strange 
beasts?  and  yet  such  as  have  a  name  in  all  languages  ?    Noah's 


sc.  iv.     •         AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  177 

Touch.  Salutation  and  greeting  to  you  all ! 

Jaq.  Good  my  lord,  bid  him  welcome;  This  is 
the  motley-minded  gentleman,  that  I  have  so  often 
met  in  the  forest:  he  hath  been  a  courtier,  he 
swears. 

Touch.  If  any  man  doubt  that,  let  him  put  me 
to  my  purgation.  I  have  trod  a  measure ; 9  I  have 
flattered  a  lady;  I  have  been  politick  with  my 
friend,  smooth  with  mine  enemy  ;  I  have  undone 
three  tailors  j  I  have  had  four  quarrels,  and  like  to 
have  fought  one. 

Jaq.  And  how  was  that  ta'en  up  ? 

Touch.  'Faith,  we  met,  and  found  the  quarrel 
was  upon  the  seventh  cause.1 

ark  is  here  alluded  to ;  into  which  the  clean  beasts  entered  by 
sevens,  and  the  unclean  by  two,  male  and  female.  It  is  plain 
then  that  Shakspeare  wrote,  here  come  a  pair  of  unclean  beasts, 
which  is  highly  humorous.     Warburton. 

Strange  beasts  are  only  what  we  call  odd  animals.  There  is 
no  need  of  any  alteration.     Johnson. 

A  passage,  somewhat  similar,  occurs  in  A  Midsummer-Night' 's 
Dream :  "  Here  come  two  noble  beasts  in,  a  moon  and  a  lion." 

Steevens. 

9  ■  ■  trod  a  measure  /]  So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Act  V. 
sc.  ii: 

"  To  tread  a  measure  with  you  on  this  grass.*' 
See  note  on  this  passage.     Reed. 

Touchstone,  to  prove  that  he  has  been  a  courtier,  particularly 
mentions  a  measure,  because  it  was  a  very  stately  solemn  dance. 
So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing :  "  —  the  wedding  mannerly 
modest,  as  a  measure  full  of  state  and  ancientry."     Malone. 

x  ——and  found  the  quarrel  was  upon  the  seventh  cause.] 
So  all  the  copies ;  but  it  is  apparent,  from  the  sequel,  that  we 
must  read— the  quarrel  xvas  not  upon  the  seventh  cause. 

Johnson. 

By  the  seventh  cause,  Touchstone,  I  apprehend,  means  the 
lie  seven  times  removed;  i.  e.  the  retort  courteous,  which  is  re- 

VOL.  VIII.  N 


178  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

Jaq.  How  seventh  cause  ? — Good  my  lord,  like 

this  id  low. 

•  Duke  S.  I  like  him  very  well. 

Touch.  God'ild  you,  sir;*  I  desire  you  of  the 
like.3  I  press  in  here,  sir,  amongst  the  rest  of  the 
country  copulatives,  to  swear,  and  to  forswear ;  ac- 
cording as  marriage  binds,  and  blood  breaks : 4 — A 


moved  seven  times  (counted  backwards)  from  the  lie  direct,  the 
last  and  most  aggravated  species  of  lie.  See  the  subsequent  note 
on  the  words  "  — a  lie  seven  times  removed."     Malone. 

*  God'ild  you,  sir ;]  i.  e.  God  yield  you,  reward  you.  So,  in 
the  Collection  of  Chester  Mysteries,  Mercer's  play,  p.  74,  b.  MS. 
Harl.  Brit.  Mus.  2013 : 

"  The  high  father  of  heaven,  I  pray, 

"  To  yelde  you  your  good  deed  to  day." 
See  note  on  Macbeth,  Act  I.  sc.  vL     Steevens. 

* /  desire  you  of  the  like.')    We  should  read — /  desire  of 

you  the  like.  On  the  Duke's  saying,  /  like  him  very  well,  he 
replies,  I  desire  you  will  give  me  cause,  that  I  may  like  you  too. 

Warburton. 

I  have  not  admitted  the  alteration,  because  there  are  other 
examples  of  this  mode  of  expression.     Johnson. 

See  a  note  on  the  first  scene  of  the  third  Act  of  A  Midsum- 
mer-Night's Dream,  where  many  examples  of  this  phraseology 
are  given. 

So  also,  in  Spenser's  Faery  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  ix : 
"  If  it  be  so,  of  pardon  I  pray  you." 
Again,  B.  IV.  c.  viii : 

"  She  dear  besought  the  prince  of  remedy." 
Again,  in  Heywood's  Play  of  the  Wether : 

"  Besechynge  your  grace  o/wynde  continual." 

Steevens. 

4 according  as  marriage  binds,  and  blood  breaks:"]    To 

swear  according  as  marriage  binds,  is  to  take  the  oath  enjoined 
in  the  ceremonial  of  marriage.    Johnson. 

to  swear,  and  to  forswear ;  according  as  marriage  binds, 

and  blood  breaks :]  A  man,  by  the  marriage  ceremony,  swears 
that  he  will  keep  only  to  his  wife  ;  when  therefore,  to  gratify  his 
lust,  he  leaves  her  for  another,  blood  breaks  his  matrimonial 
obligation,  and  he  is  forsworn.    Henley. 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  1^.  179 

poor  virgin,  sir,  an  ill-favoured  thing,  sir,  but  mine 
own;  a  poor  humour  of  mine,  sir,  to  take  that  that 
no  man  else  will :  Rich  honesty  dwells  like  a  miser, 
sir,  in  a  poor-house ;  as  your  pearl,  in  your  foul 
oyster. 

Duke  S.  By  my  faith,  he  is  very  swift  and  sen- 
tentious. 

Touch.  According  to  the  fool's  bolt,  sir,  and 
such  dulcet  diseases.5 

Jaq.  But,  for  the  seventh  cause ;  how  did  you 
find  the  quarrel  on  the  seventh  cause  ? 

Touch.  Upon  a  lie  seven  times  removed  ;6 — < 

4 dulcet  diseases.]  This  I  do  not  understand.  For  dis- 
eases it  is  easy  to  read  discourses :  but,  perhaps,  the  fault  may  lie 
deeper.    Johnson. 

Perhaps  he  calls  a  proverb  a  disease.  Proverbial  sayings  may 
appear  to  him  the  surfeiting  diseases  of  conversation.  They  are 
often  the  plague  of  commentators. 

Dr.  Farmer  would  read — in  such  dulcet  diseases ;  i.  e.  in  the 
sweet  uneasiness  of  love,  a  time  when  people  usually  talk  non- 
sense.    Steevens. 

Without  staying  to  examine  how  far  the  position  last  advanced 
is  founded  in  truth,  I  shall  only  add,  that  I  believe  the  text  is 
right,  and  that  this  word  is  capriciously  used  for  sayings,  though 
neither  in  its  primary  or  figurative  sense  it  has  any  relation  to 
that  word.  In  The  Merchant  of  Venice  the  Clown  talks  in  the 
same  style,  but  more  intelligibly : — "  the  young  gentleman  (ac- 
cording to  the  fates  and  destinies,  and  such  odd  sayings,  the 
sisters  three,  and  such  branches  of  learning,)  is  indeed  de- 
ceased."    Malone. 

6  Upon  a  lie  seven  times  removed ;]  Touchstone  here  enu- 
merates seven  kinds  of  lies,  from  the  Retort  courteous  to  the 
seventh  and  most  aggravated  species  of  lie,  which  he  Calls  the 
lie  direct.  The  courtier's  answer  to  his  intended  affront,  he 
expressly  tells  us,  was  the  Retort  courteous,  the  first  species  of 
lie.  When  therefore,  he  says,  that  they  found  the  quarrel  was 
on  the  lie  seven  times  removed,  we  must  understand  by  the 
latter  word,  the  lie  removed  seven  times,  counting  backwards, 
(as  the  word  removed  seems  to  intimate, )  from  the  last  and  most 

n2 


180  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  actv. 

Bear  your  body  more  seeming,7  Audrey : — as  thus, 
sir.  I  did  dislike  the  cut  of  a  certain  courtier's 
beard;  8   he  sent  me  word,  if  I  said  his  beard  was 

aggravated  species  of  lie,  namely,  the  lie  direct.  So,  in  AWs 
well  that  ends  well : 

"  Who  hath  some  four  or  five  removes  come  short 

"  To  tender  it  herself." 
Again,  in  the  play  before  us :  "  Your  accent  is  something  finer 
than  you  could  purchase  in  so  removed  a  dwelling,"  i.  e.  so  dis- 
tant from  the  haunts  of  men. 

When  Touchstone  and  the  courtier  met,  they  found  their 
quarrel  originated  on  the  seventh  cause,  i.  e.  on  the  Retort 
courteous,  or  the  lie  seven  times  removed.  In  the  course  of  their 
altercation,  after  their  meeting,  Touchstone  did  not  dare  to  go 
farther  than  the  sixth  species,  (counting  in  regular  progression 
from  the  first  to  the  last,)  the  lie  circumstantial ;  and  the  courtier 
was  afraid  to  give  him  the  lie  direct ;  so  they  parted.  In  a  sub- 
sequent enumeration  of  the  degrees  of  a  lie,  Touchstone  ex- 
pressly names  the  Retort  courteous,  as  the  first ;  calling  it  there- 
fore here  "  the  seventh  cause,"  and  "  the  lie  seven  times  re- 
moved," he  must  mean,  distant  seven  times  from  the  most  often- 
»ive  lie,  the  lie  direct.  There  is  certainly,  therefore,  no  need  of 
reading  with  Dr.  Johnson  in  a  former  passage — "  We  found  the 
quarrel  was  not  on  the  seventh  cause." 

The  misapprehension  of  that  most  judicious  critick  relative  to 
these  passages  must  apologize  for  my  having  employed  so  many 
words  in  explaining  them.    Malone. 

7  ■  teeming,]  i.  e.  seemly.  Seeming  is  often  used  by 
Shakspeare  for  becoming,  or  fairness  of  appearance.  So,  in  The 
Winter's  Tale: 

" these  keep 

"  Seeming  and  savour  all  the  winter  long."     Steevens. 

•  ■  ■  as  thus,  sir.  I  did  dislike  the  cut  of  a  certain  courtier's 
beard;']  This  folly  is  touched  upon,  with  high  humour,  by 
Fletcher,  in  his  Queen  of  Corinth: 

"        •    '  ••  Has  he  familiarly 

"  Dislik'd  your  yellow  starch,  or  said  your  doublet 

"  Was  not  exactly  frenchified  ?— — . 

"        ■         or  drawn  your  sword, 

"  Cry'd,  'twas  ill  mounted  ?  Has  he  given  the  lie 

M  In  circle,  or  oblique,  or  semicircle, 

"  Or  direct  parallel?  you  must  challenge  him." 

Warburton. 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  isi 

not  cut  well,  he  was  in  the  mind  it  was :  This  is 
called  the  Retort  courteous.  If  I  sent  him  word 
again,  it  was  not  well  cut,  he  would  send  me  word, 
he  cut  it  to  please  himself:  This  is  called  the  Quip 
modest.  If  again,  it  was  not  well  cut,  he  disabled 
my  judgment :  This  is  call'd  the  Reply  churlish. 
Ii  again,  it  was  not  well  cut,  he  would  answer,  I 
spake  not  true  :  This  is  call'd  the  Reproof  valiant. 
If  again,  it  was  not  well  cut,  he  would  say,  I  lie: 
This  is  called  the  Countercheck  quarrelsome:  and 
so  to  the  Lie  circumstantial,  and  the  Lie  direct. 

Jaq.  And  how  oft  did  you  say,  his  beard  was  not 
well  cut  ? 

Touch.  I  durst  go  no  further  than  the  Lie  cir- 
cumstantial, nor  he  durst  not  give  me  the  Lie  direct; 
and  so  we  measured  swords,  and  parted. 

Jaq.  Can  you  nominate  in  order  now  the  degrees 
of  the  lie  ? 

Touch.  O  sir,  we  quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book  j 9 


9  0  sir,  we  quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book;]  The  poet  has, 
in  this  scene,  rallied  the  mode  of  formal  duelling,  then  so  pre- 
valent, with  the  highest  humour  and  address  :  nor  could  he  have 
treated  it  with  a  happier  contempt,  than  by  making  his  Clown 
so  knowing  in  the  forms  and  preliminaries  of  it.  The  particular 
book  here  alluded  to  is  a  very  ridiculous  treatise  of  one  Vin- 
centio  Saviolo,  intitled,  Of  Honour  and  honourable  Quarrels, 
in  quarto,  printed  by  Wolf,  1594.  The  first  part  of  this  tract 
he  entitles,  A  Discourse  most  necessary  for  all  Gentlemen  that 
have  in  regard  their  Honours,  touching  the  giving  and  receiving 
the  Lie,  "whereupon  the  Duello  and  the  Combat  in  divers  Forms 
doth  ensue ;  and  many  other  Inconveniences,  for  lack  only  of 
true  Knowledge  of  Honour,  and  the  right  Understanding  of 
Words,  which  here  is  set  dofwn.  The  contents  of  the  several 
chapters  are  as  follow : — I.  What  the  Reason  is  that  the  Party 
unto  whom  the  Lie  is  given  ought  to  become  Challenger,  and  of 
the  Nature  of  Lies.  II.  Of  the  Manner  and  Diversity  of  Lies. 
III.  Of  Lies  certain,  [or  direct.]     IV.  Of  conditional  Lies, 


182  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  actv. 

as  you  have  books  for  good  manners  i1  I  will  name 
you  the  degrees.  The  first,  the  Retort  courteous ; 
the  second,  the  Quip  modest ;  the  third,  the  Reply 


[or  the  lie  circumstantial.]  V.  Of  the  Lie  in  general.  VI.  Of 
the  Lie  in  particular.  VII.  Of  foolish  Lies.  VIII.  A  Con- 
clusion touching  the  •wresting  or  returning  back  of  the  Lie, 
[or  the  countercheck  quarrelsome.]  In  the  chapter  of  con- 
ditional Lies,  speaking  of  the  particle  if,  he  says,  "  — Con- 
ditional lies  be  such  as  are  given  conditionally,  as  if  a  man 
should  say  or  write  these  wordes: — if 'thou  hast  said  that  I  have 
offered  my  lord  abuse,  thou  best ;  or  if  thou  say  est  so  hereafter, 
thou  shalt  lie.  Of  these  kind  of  lies,  given  in  this  manner,  often 
arise  much  contention  in  wordes, — whereof  no  sure  conclusion 
can  arise."  By  which  he  means,  they  cannot  proceed  to  cut  one 
another's  throat,  while  there  is  an  if  between.  Which  is  the 
reason  of  Shakspeare  making  the  Clown  say,  "  I  knew  when 
seven  justices  could  not  make  up  a  quarrel :  but  when  the  parties 
were  met  themselves,  one  of  them  thought  but  of  an  if;  as,  if 
you  said  so,  then  I  said  so,  and  they  shook  hands,  and  swore 
brothers.  Your  if  is  the  only  peace-maker  ;  much  virtue  in  if." 
Caranza  was  another  of  these  authentick  authors  upon  the  Duello. 
Fletcher,  in  his  last  Act  of  Love's  Pilgrimage,  ridicules  him  with 
much  humour.     Warburton. 

The  words  which  I  have  included  within  crotchets  are  Dr. 
Warburton's.  They  have  hitherto  been  printed  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  might  lead  the  reader  to  suppose  that  they  made  a  part  of 
Saviolo's  work.  The  passage  was  very  inaccurately  printed  by 
Dr.  Warburton  in  other  respects,  but  has  here  been  corrected 
by  the  original.    Malone. 

1  boohs  for  good  manners:']  One  of  these  books  I  have. 

It  is  entitled,  The  Boke  of  Nurture,  or  Scholc  of  good  Manners, 
for  Men,  Servants,  and  Children,  with  stans  puer  ad  mensam  ; 
12mo.  black  letter,  without  date.  It  was  written  by  Hugh 
Rhodes,  a  gentleman,  or  musician,  of  the  Chapel  Royal ;  and 
was  first  published  in  4to.  in  the  reign  of  King  Edward  VI. 

Steevens. 

Another  is,  Galateo  of  Maister  John  Casa,  Archbishop  of 
Benevento  ;  or  rather,  a  Treatise  of  the  Manners  and  Behavi- 
ours it  behoveth  a  Man  to  use  and  eschewe  in  his  familiar  Con- 
versation. A  Work  very  necessary  and  profitable  for  all  Gentle- 
men or  other ;  translated  from  the  Italian,  by  Robert  Peterson, 
•f  Lincoln's  Inn,  4to.  1576.     Reed. 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  183 

churlish ;  the  fourth,  the  Reproof  valiant ;  the  fifth, 
the  Countercheck  quarrelsome ;  the  sixth,  the  Lie 
with  circumstance ;  the  seventh,  the  Lie  direct. 
All  these  you  may  avoid,  but  the  lie  direct ;  and 
you  may  avoid  that  too,  with  an  If.  I  knew  when 
seven  justices  could  not  take  up  a  quarrel;  but 
when  the  parties  were  met  themselves,  one  of  them 
thought  but  of  an  If,  as,  If  you  said  so,  then  I 
said  so;  and  they  shook  hands,  and  swore  brothers. 
Your  If  is  the  only  peace-maker  ;  much  virtue  in 

v- 

Jaq.  Is  not  this  a  rare  fellow,  my  lord  ?  he's  as 
good  at  any  thing,  and  yet  a  fool. 

Duke  S.  He  uses  his  folly  like  a  stalking-horse,2 
and  under  the  presentation  of  that,  he  shoots  his 
wit. 


Enter  Hymen,3  leading  Rosalind   in  woman's 
clothes  ;  and  Celia. 

Still  Musick. 

Hym.  Then  is  there  mirth  in  heaven, 
Wlien  earthly  things  made  even 

Atone  together. 
Good  duke,  receive  thy  daughter, 
Hymen  from  heaven  brought  Iter, 

Yea,  brought  her  hither; 
That  thou  might 'st  join  Jier  hand  with  his, 
Whose  heart  within  her  bosom  is.4 


•  — —  like  a  stalking-horse,"]  See  my  note  on  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,  Act  II.  sc.  in.     Steevens. 

3  Enter  Hymen,]   Rosalind  is  imagined  by  the  rest  of  the 


184  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  r. 

Ros,  To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours. 

[To  Duke  S. 

company  to  be  brought  by  enchantment,  and  is  therefore  intro- 
duced by  a  supposed  aerial  being  in  the  character  of  Hymen. 

Johnson. 
In  all  the  allegorical  shows  exhibited  at  ancient  weddings, 
Hymen  was  a  constant  personage.  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Hymenal, 
or  the  Solemnities  of  Masque  and  Barriers,  at  a  Marriage,  has 
left  instructions  how  to  dress  this  favourite  character.  "  On  the 
other  hand  entered  Hymen,  the  god  of  marriage,  in  a  saffron- 
coloured  robe,  his  under  vestures  white,  his  sockes  yellow,  a 
yellow  veile  of  silke  on  his  left  arme,  his  head  crowned  with 
roses  and  marjoram,  in  his  right  hand  a  torch"     Steevens. 

4  That  thou  might* st  join  her  hand  with  his, 
Whose  heart  within  her  bosom  is.]  The  old  copy,  instead  of 
her,  reads  his  in  both  lines.  Mr.  Rowe  corrected  the  first,  and 
I  once  thought  that  emendation  sufficient,  and  that  whose  might 
have  referred  not  to  the  last  antecedent  his,  but  to  her,  i.  e. 
Rosalind.  Our  author  frequently  takes  such  licences.  But  on 
further  consideration  it  appears  to  me  probable,  that  the  same 
abbreviation  was  used  in  both  lines,  and  that  as  his  was  cer- 
tainly a  misprint  in  the  first  line  for  her,  so  it  also  was  in  the 
second,  the  construction  being  so  much  more  easy  in  that  way 
than  the  other.  "  That  thou  might'st  join  her  hand  with  the 
hand  of  him  whose  heart  is  lodged  in  her  bosom,"  i.  e.  whose 
affection  she  already  possesses.  So,  in  Love's  Labours  Lost, 
the  King  says  to  the  Princess : 

"  Hence  ever  then  my  heart  is  in  thy  breast" 
Again,  in  our  author's  Venus  and  Adonis  : 

'*  Bids  him  farewell,  and  look  well  to  her  heart, 

"  The  which,  by  Cupid's  bow  she  doth  protest, 

"  He  carried  thence  incaged  in  his  breast" 
Again,  in  King  Richard  III : 

**  Even  so  thy  breast  incloseth  my  poor  heart." 
Again,  in  Romeus  and  Juliet,  1562 : 

"  Thy  heart  thou  leav'st  with  her,  when  thou  dost  hence 
depart, 

"  And  in  thy  breast  inclosed  bear'st  her  tender  friendly 
heart." 
In  the  same  play  we  meet  with  the  error  that  has  happened 
here.    The  Princess  addressing  the  ladies^  who  attend  her,  says : 

"  But  while  'tis  spoke,  each  turn  away  his  face." 
Again,  in  a  former  scene  of  the  play  before  us : 

"  Helen's  cheek,  but  not  his  heart."    Malone. 


SCi  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  185 

To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours. 

[To  Orlando. 

Duke  S.  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,  you  are  my 
daughter. 

Orl.  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,5  you  are  my 
Rosalind. 

Phe.  If  sight  and  shape  be  true, 
Why  then, — my  love  adieu! 

Ros.  I'll  have  no  father,  if  you  be  not  he : — 

[To  Duke  S. 
I'll  have  no  husband,  if  you  be  not  he : — 

[To  Orlando. 
Nor  ne'er  wed  woman,  if  you  be  not  she. 

[To  Phebe. 

Hym.  Peace,  ho !  I  bar  confusion  : 
'Tis  I  must  make  conclusion 

Of  these  most  strange  events : 
Here's  eight  that  must  take  hands, 
To  join  in  Hymen's  bands, 
If  truth  holds  true  contents.6 
You  and  you  no  cross  shall  part : 

[To  Orlando  and  Rosalind. 
You  and  you  are  heart  in  heart : 

[To  Oliver  and  Celia. 
You  [To  Phebe]  to  his  love  must  accord, 
Or  have  a  woman  to  your  lord : — 

*  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,"]     The  answer  of  Phebe  makes 
it  probable  that  Orlando  says: 

If  there  be  truth  in  shape ; 
that  is,  if  a  form  may  be  trusted ;  if  one  cannot  usurp  the  form 
of  another.    Johnson. 

0  If  truth  holds  true  contents."]     That  is,  if  there  be  truth  in 
truth,  unless  truth  fails  of  veracity.    Johnson. 


186  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

You  and  you  are  sure  together, 

[To  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 
As  the  winter  to  foul  weather. 
Whiles  a  wedlock-hymn  we  sing, 
Feed  yourselves  with  questioning;7 
That  reason  wonder  may  diminish, 
How  thus  we  met,  and  these  things  finish. 

SONG. 

Wedding  is  great  Juno's  crown;8 
O  blessed  bond  of  board  and  bed! 

'Tis  Hymen  peoples  every  town; 
High  wedlock  then  be  honoured: 

Honour,  high  honour  and  renown. 

To  Hymen,  god  of  every  town  ! 

Duke  S.  O  my  dear  niece,  welcome  thou  art 
to  me; 
Even  daughter,  welcome  in  no  less  degree. 

Phe.  I  will  not  eat  my  word,  now  thou  art  mine ; 
Thy  faith  my  fancy  to  thee  doth  combine.0 

[To  Silvius. 

7  ivith   questioning;]      Though   Shakspeare  frequently 

uses  question  for  conversation,  in  the  present  instance  questioning 
may  have  its  common  and  obvious  signification.     Steevens. 

•  Wedding  is  &c]     Catullus,  addressing  himself  to  Hymen, 
has  this  stanza: 

Qua  tuis  careat  sacris, 
Non  queat  dare  presides 
Terra  Jinibus  :  at  queat 
Te  votente.     Quis  nuic  deo 
Compararier  ausit?    Johnson. 

»  -—combine^    Shakspeare  is  licentious  in  his  use  of  thin 


sc.  if.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  187 


Enter  Jaques  de  Bois. 

Jaq.  de  B.  Let  me  have  audience  for  a  word, 
or  two ; 
I  am  the  second  son  of  old  sir  Rowland, 
That  bring  these  tidings  to  this  fair  assembly: — 
Duke  Frederick,1  hearing  how  that  every  day 
Men  of  great  worth  resorted  to  this  forest, 
Address'd  a  mighty  power;  which  were  on  foot, 
In  his  own  conduct,  purposely  to  take 
His  brother  here,  and  put  him  to  the  sword : 
And  to  the  skirts  of  this  wild  wood  he  came ; 
Where,  meeting  with  an  old  religious  man, 
After  some  question  wTith  him,  was  converted 
Both  from  his  enterprize,  and  from  the  world: 
His  crown  bequeathing  to  his  banish'd  brother, 
And  all  their  lands  restor'd  to  them  again 
That  were  with  him  exil'd :  This  to  be  true, 
I  do  engage  my  life. 

Duke  S.  Welcome,  young  man  ; 

Thou  offer'st  fairly  to  thy  brothers,  wedding : 
To  one,  his  lands  with-held;  and  to  the  other, 
A  land  itself  at  large,  a  potent  dukedom. 
First,  in  this  forest,  let  us  do  those  ends 
That  here  were  well  begun,  and  well  begot : 
And  after,  every  of  this  happy  number, 

verb,  which  here,  as  in  Measure  for  Measure,  only  signifies  to 
bind: 

"  I  am  combined  by  a  sacred  vow, 

"  And  shall  be  absent."     Steevens. 

1  Duke  Frederick,  &c]  In  Lodge's  novel  the  usurping  Duke 
is  not  diverted  from  his  purpose  by  the  pious  counsel  of  a  her- 
mit, but  is  subdued  and  killed  by  the  twelve  peers  of  France, 
who  were  brought  by  the  third  brother  of  Rosader  (the  Orlando 
of  this  play)  to  assist  him  in  the  recovery  of  his  rignt. 

Steevens. 


188  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  act  v. 

That  have  endur'd  shrewd  days  and  nights  with  us, 
Shall  share  the  good  of  our  returned  fortune, 
According  to  the  measure  of  their  states. 
Meantime,  forget  this  new-fall'n  dignity, 
And  fall  into  our  rustick  revelry : — 
Play,  musick; — and  you  brides  and  bridegrooms 

all, 
With  measure  heap'd  in  joy,  to  the  measures  fall. 

Jaq.  Sir,  by  your  patience ;   If  I  heard  you 
rightly, 
The  duke  hath  put  on  a  religious  life, 
And  thrown  into  neglect  the  pompous  court  ? 

Jaq.  be  B.  He  hath. 

Jaq.  To  him  will  I :  out  of  these  convertites 
There  is  much  matter  to  be  heard  and  learn'd. — 
You  to  your  former  honour  I  bequeath ; 

[To  Duke  S. 
Your  patience,  and  your  virtue,  well  deserves  it: — 
You  [To  Orlando]  to  a  love,  that  your  true  faith 

doth  merit: — 
You  [To  Oliver]  to  your  land,  and  love,  and 

great  allies : — 
You  [To  Silvius]  to  a  long  and  well  deserved 

bed; — 
And  you   [7b  Touchstone]    to  wrangling;  for 

thy  loving  voyage 
Is  but  for  two  months  victual'd: — So  to  your 

pleasures ; 
I  am  for  other  than  for  dancing  measures. 

Duke  S.  Stay,  Jaques,  stay. 

Jaq.  To  see  no  pastime,  I: — whatyou would  have 
I'll  stay  to  know  at  your  abandon'd  cave.a    [Exit. 

*  To  see  no  pastime,  I:—tokat  you  would  have 
PU  stay  to  know  at  your  abandon'd  cave.]    Amidst  this  ge- 
neral festivity,  the  reader  may  be  sorry  to  take  his  leave  of 


sc.  iv.  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  189 

Duke  S.    Proceed,  proceed:    we    will  begin 
these  rites, 
And  we  do  trust  they'll  end,  in  true  delights. 

[A  dance. 


EPILOGUE. 

Ros.  It  is  not  the  fashion  to  see  the  lady  the 
epilogue :  but  it  is  no  more  unhandsome,  than  to 
see  the  lord  the  prologue.  If  it  be  true,  that  good 
wine  needs  no  bush,3  'tis  true,  that  a  good  play 

Jaques,  who  appears  to  have  no  share  in  it,  and  remains  behind 
unreconciled  to  society.  He  has,  however,  filled  with  a  gloomy 
sensibility  the  space  allotted  to  him  in  the  play,  and  to  the  last 
preserves  that  respect  which  is  due  to  him  as  a  consistent  cha- 
racter, and  an  amiable,  though  solitary  moralist. 

It  may  be  observed,  with  scarce  less  concern,  that  Shakspeare 
has,  on  this  occasion,  forgot  old  Adam,  the  servant  of  Or- 
lando, whose  fidelity  should  have  entitled  him  to  notice  at  the 
end  of  the  piece,  as  well  as  to  that  happiness  which  he  would 
naturally  have  found,  in  the  return  of  fortune  to  his  master. 

Steevens. 

It  is  the  more  remarkable,  that  old  Adam  is  forgotten ;  since, 
at  the  end  of  the  novel,  Lodge  makes  him  captaine  of  the  king's 
guard.    Farmer. 

3  no  bush,"]  It  appears  formerly  to  have  been  the  custom 

to  hang  a  tuft  of  ivy  at  the  door  of  a  vintner.  I  suppose  ivy 
was  rather  chosen  than  any  other  plant,  as  it  has  relation  to 
Bacchus.     So,  in  Gascoigne's  Glass  of  Government,  1575: 

*'  Now  a  days  the  good  wyne  needeth  none  ivye  gar~ 
land." 
Again,  in  The  Rival  Friends,  1632: 

"  'Tis  like  the  ivy-bush  unto  a  tavern." 
Again,  in  Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament,  1600: 

"  Green  ivy-bushes  at  the  vintners'  doors."     Steevens. 

The  practice  is  still  observed  in  Warwickshire  and  the  adjoin- 
ing counties,  at  statute-hirings,  wakes,  &c.  by  people  who  sell 
ale  at  no  other  time.  And  hence,  I  suppose,  the  Bush  tavern 
at  Bristol,  and  other  places.    Ritson. 


190  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

needs  no  epilogue:  Yet  to  good  wine  they  do  use 
good  bushes;  and  good  plays  prove  the  better  by 
the  help  of  good  epilogues.  What  a  case  am  I  in 
then,4  that  am  neither  a  good  epilogue,  nor  cannot 
insinuate  with  you  in  the  behalf  of  a  good  play  ? 
I  am  not  furnished  like  a  beggar,5  therefore  to  beg 
will  not  become  me:  my  way  is,  to  conjure  you ; 
and  I'll  begin  with  the  women.  I  charge  you,  O 
women,  for  the  love  you  bear  to  men,  to  like  as 
much  of  this  play  as  please  them  :  and  so  I  charge 
you,  O  men,  for  the  love  you  bear  to  women,  (as  I 
perceive  by  your  simpering,  none  of  you  hate  them,) 
that  between  you  and  the  women,  the  play  may 
please.0     If  I  were  a  woman,7 1  would  kiss  as  many 

4  What  a  case  am  I  in  then,  &c]  Here  seems  to  be  a  chasm, 
or  some  other  depravation,  which  destroys  the  sentiment  here 
intended.  The  reasoning  probably  stood  thus:  Good  wine 
needs  no  bush,  good  plays  need  no  epilogue ;  but  bad  wine  re- 
quires a  good  bush,  and  a  bad  play  a  good  epilogue.  What 
case  am  I  in  then  ?  To  restore  the  words  is  impossible ;  all  that 
can  be  done,  without  copies,  is  to  note  the  fault.     Johnson. 

Johnson  mistakes  the  meaning  of  this  passage.  Rosalind  says, 
that  good  plays  need  no  epilogue ;  yet  even  good  plays  do  prove 
the  better  for  a  good  one.  What  a  case  then  was  she  in,  who 
had  neither  presented  them  with  a  good  play,  nor  had  a  good 
epilogue  to  prejudice  them  in  favour  of  a  bad  one?  M.  Mason. 

5  furnished  like  a  beggar,]     That  is,  dressed:  so  before, 

he  wasfurnished  like  a  huntsman.     Johnson. 

'  1  charge  you,  O  women,  for  the  love  you  bear  to  men, 

to  like  as  much  of  this  play  as  please  them:  and  so  I  charge 
you,  &c]     The  old  copy  reads — /  charge  you,  O  women,  for  me 
love  you  bear  to  men,  to  like  as  much  of  this  play  as  please  you  : 
and  I  charge  you,  O  men,  for  the  love  you  bear  to  women, 
that  between  you  and  the  women,  &c.     Steevens. 

This  passage  should  be  read  thus:  /  charge  you,  O  women, 
for  the  love  you  bear  to  men,  to  like  as  much  of  this  play  as 
pleases  them :  and  I  charge  you,  O  men,  for  the  love  you  bear 

to  women, to  like  as  much  as  pleases  them,  that  between 

you  and  the  women,  &c.     Without  the  alteration  of  you  into 
themt  the  invocation  is  nonsense ;  and  without  the  addition  of 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  191 

of  you  as  had  beards  that  pleased  me,  complexions 

the  words,  to  like  as  much  as  pleases  them,  the  inference  of, 
that  between  you  and  the  women  the  play  may  pass,  would  be 
unsupported  by  any  precedent  premises.  The  words  seem  to 
have  been  struck  out  by  some  senseless  player,  as  a  vicious  re- 
dundancy.   Warburton. 

The  words  you  and  ym,  written  as  was  the  custom  in  that 
time,  were  in  manuscript  scarcely  distinguishable.  The  emen- 
dation is  very  judicious  and  probable.     Johnson. 

Mr.  Heath  observes,  that  if  Dr.  Warburton's  interpolation  be 
admitted,  ["  to  like  as  much,  &c."]  "  the  men  are  to  like  only 
just  as  much  as  pleased  the  women,  and  the  women  only  just  as 
much  as  pleased  the  men ;  neither  are  to  like  any  thing  from 
their  own  taste :  and  if  both  of  them  disliked  the  whole,  they 
would  each  of  them  equally  fulfil  what  the  poet  desires  of  them. 
But  Shakspeare  did  not  write  so  nonsensically ;  he  desires  the 
women  to  like  as  much  as  pleased  the  men,  and  the  men  to  set 
the  ladies  a  good  example;  which  exhortation  to  the  men  is 
evidently  implied  in  these  words,  '*  that  between  you  and  the 
women  the  play  may  please.' * 

Mr.  Heath,  though  he  objects  (I  think  ver}-  properly)  to  the 
interpolated  sentence,  admits  by  his  interpretation  the  change  of 
" — pleases  you"  to  "—-pleases  them;"  which  has  been 
adopted  by  the  late  editors.  1  by  no  means  think  it  necessary; 
nor  is  Mr.  Heath's  exposition,  in  my  opinion,  correct.  The 
text  is  sufficiently  clear,  without  any  alteration.  Rosalind's  ad- 
dress appears  to  me  simply  this :  "  I  charge  you,  O  women,  for 
the  love  you  bear  to  men,  to  approve  of  as  much  of  this  play  as 
affords  you  entertainment;  and  I  charge  you,  O  men,  for  the 
love  you  bear  to  women,  [not  to  set  an  example  to,  but]  to 
follow  or  agree  in  opinion  with  the  ladies;  that  between  you 
both  the  play  may  be  successful."  The  words  "  to  follow,  or 
agree  in  opinion  with,  the  ladies"  are  not,  indeed,  expressed, 
but  plainly  implied  in  those  subsequent;  "  that,  between  you 
and  the  women,  the  play  may  please."  In  the  epilogue  to 
King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  the  address  to  the  audience  proceeds  in 
the  same  order:  "  All  the  gentlewomen  here  hive  forgiven 
[i.  e.  are  favourable  to]  me ;  if  the  gentlemen  will  not,  then 
the  gentlemen  do  not  agree  with  the  gentlewomen,  which  was 
never  seen  before  in  such  an  assembly.'' 

The  old  copy  reads — as  please  you.  The  correction  was  made 
by  Mr.  Rowe. 

Like  all  my  predecessors,  I  had  here  adopted  an  alteration 
made  by  Mr.  Rowe,  of  which  the  reader  was  apprized  in  the 


102  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

that  liked  me,9  and  breaths  that  I  defied  not:*  and, 
I  am  sure,  as  many  as  have  good  beards,  or  good 
faces,  or  sweet  breaths,  will,  for  my  kind  offer, 
when  I  make  curt'sy,  bid  me  farewell.    [Exeunt.1 

note;  but  the  old  copy  is  certainly  right,  and  such  was  the 
phraseology  of  Shales peare's  age.     So,  in  K.  Richard  III: 

"  Where  every  horse  bears  his  commanding  rein, 

"  And  may  direct  his  course,  as  please  himself.* 
Again,  in  Hamlet : 

" a  pipe  for  fortune's  finger, 

"  To  sound  what  stop  she  please." 
Again,  in  K.  Henry  VIII : 

"  All  men's  honours 

"  Lie  like  one  lump  before  him,  to  be  fashion'd 

"  Into  what  pitch  he  please."     Malone. 

I  read — "  and  so  I  charge  you,  O  men,"  &c.  This  trivial 
addition  (as  Dr.  Farmer  joins  with  me  in  thinking)  clears  the 
whole  passage.     Steevens. 

7  If  I  were  a  tooman^]  Note,  that  in  this  author's  time,  the 
parts  of  women  were  always  performed  by  men  or  boys. 

Hanmer. 

8  complexions  that  liked  »»e,]   i.  e.   that   I  liked.     So 

again  in  Hamlet :  *'  This  likes  me  well."     Steevens. 

9  breaths  that  I  defied  not  .•]     This  passage  serves  to 

manifest  the  indelicacy  of  the  time  in  which  the  plays  of  Shak- 
speare  were  written.  Such  an  idea,  started  by  a  modern  dra- 
matist, and  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  female  character,  would 
be  hooted  with  indignation  from  the  stage.     Steevens. 

1  Of  this  play  the  fable  is  wild  and  pleasing.  I  know  not 
how  the  ladies  will  approve  the  facility  with  which  both  Rosa- 
lind and  Celia  give  away  their  hearts.  To  Celia  much  may  be 
forgiven  for  the  heroism  of  her  friendship.  The  character  of 
Jaques  is  natural  and  well  preserved.  The  comick  dialogue  is 
very  sprightly,  with  less  mixture  of  low  buffoonery  than  in  some 
other  plays ;  and  the  graver  part  is  elegant  and  harmonious.  By 
hastening  to  the  end  of  this  work,  Shakspeare  suppressed  the 
dialogue  between  the  usurper  and  the  hermit,  and  lost  an  op- 

J>ortunity  of  exhibiting  a  moral  lesson  in  which  he  might  have 
bund  matter  worthy  of  his  highest  powers.    Johnson. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  193 

See  p.  29.  Is  but  a  quintaine,  #c]  Dr.  Warburton*s  expla- 
nation would,  I  think,  have  been  less  exceptionable,  had  it 
been  more  simple :  yet  he  is  here  charged  with  a  fault  of  which 
he  is  seldom  guilty — want  of  refinement.  "  This  (says  Mr. 
Guthrie)  is  but  an  imperfect  (to  call  it  no  worse)  explanation  of 
a  beautiful  passage.  The  quintaine  was  not  the  object  of  the 
darts  and  arms;  it  was  a  stake,  driven  into  a  field,  upon  which 
were  hung  a  shield  and  trophies  of  war,  at  whioh  they  shot, 
darted,  or  rode  with  a  lance.  When  the  shield  and  trophies 
were  all  thrown  down,  the  quintaine  remained.  Without  this 
information,  how  could  the  reader  understand  the  allusion  of— 

my  better  parts 

Are  all  thrown  down. 

In  the  present  edition  I  have  avoided,  as  much  as  possible,  all 
kind  of  controversy ;  but  in  those  cases  where  errors,  by  having 
been  long  adopted,  are  become  inveterate,  it  becomes  in  some 
measure  necessary  to  the  enforcement  of  truth. 

It  is  a  common,  but  a  very  dangerous  mistake,  to  suppose  that 
the  interpretation  which  gives  most  spirit  to  a  passage  is  the  true 
one.  In  consequence  of  this  notion,  two  passages  of  our  author, 
one  in  Macbeth,  and  another  in  Othello,  have  been  refined,  as  I 
conceive,  into  a  meaning  that  I  believe  was  not  in  his  thoughts. 
If  the  most  spirited  interpretation  that  can  be  imagined  happens 
to  be  inconsistent  with  his  general  manner,  and  the  phraseology 
both  of  him  and  his  contemporaries,  or  to  be  founded  on  a 
custom  which  did  not  exist  in  his  age,  most  assuredly  it  is  a  false 
interpretation.  Of  the  latter  kind  is  Mr.  Guthrie's  explanation 
of  the  passage  before  us. 

The  military  exercise  of  the  quintaine  is  as  ancient  as  the 
time  of  the  Romans  ;  and  we  find  from  Matthew  Paris,  that  it 
subsisted  in  England  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Tentoria  variis 
ornamentorum  generibus  venustantur ;  terrce  infixis,  sudibus 
scuta  apponuntur,  quibus  in  crastinum  quintans  ludus,  scilicet 
equestris,  exerceretur.  M.  Paris,  ad  ann.  1253.  These  pro- 
bably were  the  very  words  that  Mr.  Guthrie  had  in  contempla- 
tion. But  Matthew  Paris  made  no  part  of  Shakspeare's  library ; 
uor  is  it  at  all  material  to  our  present  point  what  were  the  cus- 
toms of  any  century  preceding  that  in  which  he  lived.  In  his 
time,  without  any  doubt,  the  quintaine  was  not  a  military  exer- 
cise of  tilting,  but  a  mere  rustic  sport.  So  Minshieu,  in  his 
Dict.  1617:  "  A  quintaine  or  quintelle,  a  game  in  request  at 
marriages,  when  Jac  and  Tom,  Die,  Hob  and  Will,  strive  for 
the  gay  garland."  So  also,  Randolph  at  somewhat  a  later 
period  [Poems,  1642] : 

VOL.  VIII.  O 


194  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

"  Foot-ball  with  us  may  be  with  them  [the  Spaniards] 

ballooae ; 
«'  As  they  at  tilts,  so  we  at  quintaine  runne ; 
"  And  those  old  pastimes  relish  best  with  me, 
"  That  have  least  art,  and  most  simplicitie." 
But  old  Stowe  has  put  this  matter  beyond  a  doubt;  for  in  his 
Survey  of  London,  printed  only  two  years  before  this  play  ap- 
peared, he  has  given  us  the  figure  of  a  quintaine,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  margin. 

"  I  have  seen  (says  he)  a  quinten 
set  up  on  Corneh  ill,  by  the  Leaden  Hall, 
where  the  attendants  on  the  lords  of 
merry  disports  have  runne,  and  made 
greate  pastime ;  for  hee  that  hit  not  the 
broad  end  of  the  quinten  was  of  all  men 
laughed  to  scorne ;  and  hee  that  hit  it 
full,  if  he  rid  not  the  faster,  had  a  sound 
blow  in  his  necke  with  a  bagge  full  of 
sand  hanged  on  the  other  end."  Here 
we  see  were  no  shields  hung,  no  trophies  of  war  to  be  thrown 
down.  "  The  great  design  of  the  sport,  (says  Dr.  Plott,  in  his 
History  of  Oxfordshire, )  is  to  try  both  man  and  horse,  and  to 
break  the  board  ;  which  whoever  does,  is  for  the  time  Princeps 
juventutis."  Shakspeare's  similes  seldom  correspond  on  both 
sides.  "  My  better  parts  being  all  thrown  down,  myy  outhful 
spirit  being  subdued  by  the  power  <rf  beauty,  I  am  now  (says 
Orlando)  as  inanimate  as  a  wooden  quintaine  is  (not  when  its 
better  parts  are  thrown  down,  but  as  that  lifeless  block  is  at  all 
times)."  Such,  perhaps,  is  the  meaning.  If,  however,  the 
words  "  better  parts,"  are  to  be  applied  to  the  quintaine,  as 
well  as  to  the  speaker,  the  board  above-mentioned,  and  not  any 
shield  or  trophy,  must  have  been  alluded  to. 

Our  author  has,  in  Macbeth,  used  "  my  better  part  of  man** 
for  manly  spirit. 

**  Accursed  be  the  tongue  that  tells  me  so, 

"  For  it  has  cow'd  my  better  part  of  man.''        Malone. 

The  explanations  of  this  passage,  as  well  as  the  accounts  of 
the  quintain,  are  by  no  means  satisfactory;  nor  have  the  labours 
of  the  critick  or  the  antiquary  been  exhausted.  The  whole  of 
Orlando's  speech  should  6eem  to  refer  to  the  quintain,  but  not 
to  such  a  one  as  has  been  described  in  any  of  the  preceding 
notes.  Mr.  Guthrie  is  accused  of  having  borrowed  his  account 
from  Matthew  Paris,  an  author  with  whom,  as  it  has  been 
already  observed,  Shakspeare  was  undoubtedly  not  acquainted; 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  195 

but  this  charge  is  erroneous,  for  no  such  passage  as  that  above 
cited  is..to  be  found  in  M.  Paris.  This  writer  does  indeed  speak 
of  the  quintain  under  the  year  1253,  but  in  very  different  words. 
Eodem  tempore  juvenes  Londinenses  statuto  pavone  pyo  bravio 
ad  stadium  quod  quintena  vulgariter  dicitur,  vires  proprias  8$ 
equorum  cursus  sunt  experti.  He  then  proceeds  to  state  that 
some  of  the  King's  pages,  and  others  belonging  to  the  houshold, 
being  offended  at  these  sports,  abused  the  Londoners  with  foul 
language,  calling  them  scurvy  clowns  and  greasy  rascals,  and 
ventured  to  dispute  the  prize  with  them ;  the  consequence  of 
which  was,  that  the  Londoners  received  them  very  briskly,  and 
so  belaboured  their  backs  with  the  broken  lances,  that  they 
were  either  put  to  flight,  or  tumbled  from  their  horses  and  most 
terribly  bruised.  They  afterwards  went  before  the  King,  the 
tears  still  trickling  from  their  eyes,  and  complained  of  their 
treatment,  beseeching  that  he  would  not  suffer  so  great  an 
offence  to  remain  unpunished ;  and  the  King,  with  his  usual 
spirit  of  revenge,  extorted  from  the  citizens  a  very  large  fine. 
So  far  M.  Paris;  but  Mr.  Malone  has  through  some  mistake  cited 
Robertus  Monachus,  who  wrote  before  M.  Paris,  and  has  left  an 
extremely  curious  account  of  the  Crusades.  He  is  describing 
the  arrival  of  some  messengers  from  Babylon,  who,  upon  en- 
tering the  Christian  camp,  find  to  their  great  astonishment  (for 
they  had  heard  that  the  Christians  were  perishing  with  fear  and 
hunger)  the  tents  curiously  ornamented,  and  the  young  men 
practising  themselves  and  their  horses  in  tilting  against  shields 
hung  upon  poles.  In  the  oldest  edition  of  this  writer,  instead 
of  "  quintance  ludus"  it  is  **  ludus  equestris."  However,  this 
is  certainly  not  the  quintain  that  is  here  wanted,  and  therefore 
Mr.  Malone  has  substituted  another,  copied  indeed  from  a  con- 
temporary writer,  but  still  not  illustrative  of  the  passage  in  ques- 
tion. I  shall  beg  leave  then  to  present  the  reader  with  some 
others,  from  which  it  will  appear,  that  the  quintain  tuas  a 
military  exercise  in  Shakspeare's  time,  and  not  a  mere  rustic 
sport,  as  Mr.  Malone  imagines. 


02 


196 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


L 


No.  1,  is  copied  from  an  initial  letter  in  an  Italian  book, 
printed  in  1560.  Here  is  the  figure  of  a  man  placed  upon  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  holding  in  one  hand  a  shield,  in  the  other  a 
bag  of  sand.  No.  2,  is  the  Saracen  quintain  from  Pluvinel,  in- 
struction du  Roi  Louis  XIII.  dans  Vexcrcise  de  monter  a  cheval. 
This  sort  of  quintain,  according  to  Menestrier,  was  invented  by 
the  Germans,  who,  from  their  frequent  wars  with  the  Turks, 
accustomed  their  soldiers  to  point  their  lances  against  the  figure 
of  their  enemy.  The  skill  consisted  in  shivering  the  lance  to 
pieces,  by  striking  it  against  the  head  of  the  man,  for  if  it 
touched  the  shield,  the  figure  turned  round  and  generally  struck 
the  horseman  a  violent  blow  with  his  sword.  No.  3,  is  the 
Flemish  quintain,  copied  from  a  print  after  Wouvermans ;  it  is 
called  La  bague  Flamande,  from  the  ring  which  the  figure  holds 
in  his  left  hand ;  and  here  the  object  was  to  take  away  the 
ring  with  the  point  of  the  lance,  for  if  it  struck  any  other  part, 
the  man  turned  round  and  hit  the  rider  with  his  sand-bag.  This 
is  a  mixture  of  the  quintain  and  running  at  the  ring,  which  two 
sports  have  been  some  how  or  other  in  like  manner  confounded 
by  the  Italians,  who  sometimes  express  the  running  at  the  ring 
by  correrc  alia  auintana.    The  principle  of  all  these  was  the 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  197 

same,  viz.  to  avoid  the  blow  of  the  sword  or  sand-bag,  by  strik- 
ing the  quintain  in  a  particular  place. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  some  instance  had  been 
given  of  the  use  of  these  quintains  in  England ;  and  for  want  of 
it  an  objection  may  be  taken  to  this  method  of  illustrating  the 
present  subject :  but  let  it  be  remembered,  that  Shakspeare  has 
indiscriminately  blended  the  usages  of' all  nations;  that  he  has 
oftentimes  availed  himself  of  hearsay  evidence ;  and  again,  that 
as  our  manners  and  customs  have  at  all  times  been  borrowed 
from  the  French  and  other  nations,  there  is  every  reason  to  infer 
that  this  species  of  the  quintain  had  found  its  way  into  England. 
It  is  hardly  needful  to  add,  that  a  knowledge  of  very  many  of 
our  ancient  sports  and  domestic  employments  is  not  now  to  be 
attained.  Historians  have  contented  themselves  to  record  the 
vices  of  kings  and  princes,  and  the  minutiae  of  battles  and 
sieges ;  and,  with  very  few  exceptions,  they  have  considered  the 
discussion  of  private  manners  (a  theme  perhaps  equally  inte- 
resting to  posterity)  as  beneath  their  notice,  and  of  little  or  no 
importance. 

As  a  military  sport  or  exercise,  the  use  of  the  quintain  is  very 
ancient,  and  may  be  traced  even  among  the  Romans.  It  is 
mentioned  in  Justinian's  Code,  Lib.  III.  tit.  43 ;  and  its  most 
probable  etymology  is  from  "  Quintus,"  the  name  of  its  in- 
ventor. In  the  days  of  chivalry  it  was  the  substitute  or  rehearsal 
of  tilts  and  tournaments,  and  was  at  length  adopted,  though  in 
a  ruder  way,  by  the  common  people,  becoming  amongst  them 
a  very  favourite  amusement.  Many  instances  occur  of  its  use 
in  several  parts  of  France,  particularly  as  a  seignorial  right 
exacted  from  millers,  watermen,  new -married  men,  and  others  ; 
when  the  party  was  obliged,  under  some  penalty,  to  run  at  the 
quintain  upon  Whitsunday  and  other  particular  times,  at  the 
lord's  castle,  for  his  diversion.  Sometimes  it  was  practised  upon 
the  water,  and  then  the  quintain  was  either  placed  in  a  boat,  or 
erected  in  the  middle  of  the  river.  Something  of  this  kind  is 
described  from  Fitzstephen  by  Stowe  in  his  Survey,  p.  143,  edit. 
1618,  4to.  and  still  continues  to  be  practised  upon  the  Seine  at 
Paris.  Froissart  mentions,  that  the  shield  quintain  was  used  in 
Ireland  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  In  Wales  it  is  still  practised 
at  weddings,  and  at  the  village  of  Offham,  near  Town  Mailing 
in  Kent,  there  is  now  standing  a  quintain,  resembling  that 
copied  from  Stowe,  opposite  to  the  dwelling-house  of  a  family 
that  is  obliged  under  some  tenure  to  support  it ;  but  I  do  not 
find  that  any  use  has  been  ever  made  of  it  within  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  inhabitants. 


198  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

Shakspeare  then  has  most  probably  alluded  to  that  sort  of 
quintain  which  resembled  the  human  figure  ;  and  if  this  be  the 
case,  the  speech  of  Orlando  may  be  thus  explained :  "  I  am 
unable  to  thank  you ;  for,  surprized  and  subdued  by  love,  my 
intellectual  powers,  which  are  my  better  parts,  fail  me ;  and 
I  resemble  the  quintain,  whose  human  or  active  part  being 
thrown  down,  there  remains  nothing  but  the  lifeless  trunk  or 
block  which  once  upheld  it." 

Or,  if  better  parts  do  not  refer  to  the  quintain,  "  that  which 
here  stands  up  '  means  the  human  part  of  the  quintain,  which 
may  be  also  not  unaptly  called  a  lifeless  block.    Douce. 


ALL'S  WELL 


THAT 


ENDS    WELL.* 


*  All's  well  that  ends  well.]  The  story  of  AWs  ivell 
that  ends  fx>elly  or,  as  I  suppose  it  to  have  been  sometimes 
called,  Love's  Labour  Wonne,  is  originally  indeed  the  property 
of  Boccace,  but  it  came  immediately  to  Shakspeare  from 
Painter's  Giletta  of  Narbon,  in  the  First  Vol.  of  the  Palace  of 
Pleasure,  4  to.  1566,  p.  88.    Farmer. 

Shakspeare  is  indebted  to  the  novel  only  for  a  few  leading 
circumstances  in  the  graver  parts  of  the  piece.  The  comic  busi- 
ness appears  to  be  entirely  of  his  own  formation.     Steevens. 

This  comedy,  I  imagine,  was  written  in  1598.  See  An  At- 
tempt to  ascertain  the  Order  of  Shakspeare1  s  Plays,  Vol.  II. 

Malone. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED.1 


King  of 'France. 
Duke  of  Florence. 
Bertram,  Count  ofRousillon. 
Lafeu,2  an  old  Lord. 
Parolles,3  a  Follower  of  Bertram. 
Several  young  French  Lords,  that  serve  with  Ber- 
tram in  tfie  Florentine  War. 

bewar  ,   i   Servants  to  the  Countess  o/'Rousillon. 
A  Page. 

Countess  o/'Rousillon,  Mother  to  Bertram. 
Helena,  a  Gentlewoman  protected  by  the  Countess. 
An  old  Widow  of  Florence. 
Diana,  Daughter  to  the  Widow. 

10  en  a,  /  Neighbours  and  Friends  to  the  Widow. 

Lords,  attending  on  the  King;  Officers,  Soldiers,  &c. 
French  and  Florentine. 

SCENE,  partly  in  France,  and  partly  in  Tuscany. 

1  The  persons  were  first  enumerated  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

*  Lafeuy"]    We  should  read — Lefeu.     Steevens. 

3  Parolles,1  I  suppose  we  should  write  this  name — Paroles, 
i.  e.  a  creature  made  up  of  empty  words.     Steevens. 

*  Violenta  only  enters  once,  and  then  she  neither  speaks, 
nor  is  spoken  to.  This  name  appears  to  be  borrowed  from  an 
old  metrical  history,  entitled  Didaco  and  Violenta,  1576. 

Steevens. 


ALL'S  WELL 


THAT 


ENDS    WELL. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

Rousillon.    A   Room  in  the   Countess's  Palace. 

Enter  Bertram,  the  Countess  of  Rousillon, 
Helena,  and  Lafeu,  in  mourning. 

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,1  evermore 
in  subjection. 


1  in  ward,]     Under  his  particular  care,  as  my  guardian, 

till  I  come  to  age.  It  is  now  almost  forgotten  in  England,  that 
the  heirs  of  great  fortunes  were  the  King's  wards.  Whether 
the  game  practice  prevailed  in  France,  it  is  of  no  great  use  to 
enquire,  for  Shakspeare  gives  to  all  nations  the  manners  of  Eng- 
land.   Johnson. 

Howell's  fifteenth  letter  acquaints  us  that  the  province  of 
Normandy  was  subject  to  wardships,  and  no  other  part  of 


204  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

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. 

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. 

Count.  This  young  gentlewoman  had  a  father, 
(O,  that  had!  how  sad  a  passage  'tis!2)  whose  skill 

France  besides ;  but  the  supposition  of  the  contrary  furnished 
Shakspeare  with  a  reason  why  the  King  compelled  Rousillon  to 
marry  Helen.    Tollet. 

The  prerogative  of  a  wardship  is  a  branch  of  the  feudal  law, 
and  may  as  well  be  supposed  to  be  incorporated  with  the  con- 
stitution of  France,  as  it  was  with  that  of  England,  till  the  reign 
of  Charles  II.     Sir  J.  Hawkins. 

*  0,  that  had !  how  sad  a  passage  'tisf]     Imitated  from 

the  Heautontimorumenos  of  Terence,  (then  translated,)  where 
Menedemus  says : 

"  Filium  unicum  adolescentulum 

"  Habeo.  Ah,  quid  dixi  ?  habere  me  ?  imo 

"  habui,  Chreme, 

"  Nunc  habeam  necne  incertum  est."     Blackstone. 

So,  in  Spenser's  Shepheard's  Calender  : 

"  Shee,  while  she  was,    (that  was  a  woeful  word  to 

saine, ) 
"  For  beauties  praise  and  pleasaunce  had  no  peere." 
Again,  in  Wily  BeguiVd,  1606  : 

"  She  is  not  mine,  I  have  no  daughter  now ; 

"  That  I  should  say  /  had,  thence  comes  my  grief." 

Ma  LONE. 

Passage  is  any  thing  that  passes.  So  we  now  say,  a  passage 
of  an  author,  and  we  said  about  a  century  ago,  the  passages  of 


sc.  /.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  205 

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, 
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  mourn- 
ingly :  he  was  skilful  enough  to  have  lived  still,  if 
knowledge  could  be  set  up  against  mortality. 

Ber.  What  is  it,  my  good  lord,  the  king  lan- 
guishes of? 


a  reign.  When  the  Countess  mentions  Helena's  loss  of  a  father, 
she  recollects  her  own  loss  of  a  husband,  and  stops  to  observe 
how  heavily  the  word  had  passes  through  her  mind.     Johnson. 

Thus  Shakspeare  himself.  See  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  III. 
sc.  i: 

"  Now  in  the  stirring  passage  of  the  day." 
So,  in  The  Gamester,  by  Shirley,  1637 :  "  111  not  be  witness  of 
your  passages  myself:"  i.  e.  of  what  passes  between  you. 
Again,  in  A  Woman's  a  Weathercock,  1612: 

" never  lov'd  these  prying  listening  men 

"  That  ask  of  others'  states  and  passages.** 
Again: 

"  I  knew  the  passages  'twixt  her  and  Scudamore." 
Again,  in  The  Dumb  Knight,  1633 : 

" have  beheld 

"  Your  vile  and  most  lascivious  passages." 
Again,  in  The   English    Intelligencer,  a  tragi-comedy,   164*1 : 
"  —  two  philosophers  that  jeer  and  weep  at  the  passages  of  the 
world."     Steevbns. 


206  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

Laf.  A  fistula,  my  lord.3 

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,4  there  com- 

3  A  fistula,  my  lord."]  The  King  of  France's  disorder  is 
specified  as  follows  in  Painter's  translation  from  Boccaccio's 
Novel,  on  which  this  play  was  founded :  "  She  heard  by  report 
that  the  French  King  had  a  swelling  upon  his  breast,  which  by 
reason  of  ill  cure,  was  growen  into  a  fistula"  &c.  In  Putten- 
ham's  Arte  of  English  Poesie,  1589,  p.  251,  we  have  also  men- 
tion of  this  inelegant  disorder.  Speaking  of  the  necessity  which 
princes  occasionally  find  to  counterfeit  maladies,  our  author  has 
the  following  remark:  u  And  in  dissembling  of  diseases,  which 
I  pray  you  ?  for  I  have  obserued  it  in  the  Court  of  Fraunce, 
not  a  burning  feuer,  or  a  plurisie,  or  a  palsie,  or  the  hydropick 
and  swelling  gowte,  &c.  But  it  must  be  either  a  dry  dropsie, 
or  a  megrim  or  letarge,  or  a  Jistide  in  ano,  or  some  such  other 
secret  disease  as  the  common  conuersant  can  hardly  discouer, 
and  the  physitian  either  not  speedily  heale,  or  not  honestly  be- 
wray."    Steevens. 

* virtuous  qualities,']     By  virtuous   qualities  are  meant 

qualities  of  good  breeding  and  erudition  ;  in  the  same  sense  that 
the  Italians  say,  qualitd  virtuoso;  and  not  moral  ones.  On 
this  account  it  is,  she  says,  that,  in  an  ill  mind,  these  virtuous 
qualities  are  virtues  and  traitors  too:  i.  e.  the  advantages  of 
education  enable  an  ill  mind  to  go  further  in  wickedness  than  it 
could  have  done  without  them.     Warburton. 

Virtue  and  virtuous,  as  I  am  told,  still  keep  this  signification 
in  the  north,  and  mean  ingenuity  and  ingenious.  Of  this  sense, 
perhaps,  an  instance  occurs  in  the  Eighth  Book  of  Chapman's 
version  of  the  Iliad: 

'*  Then  will  I  to  Olympus'  top  our   virtuous  engine 

bind, 
"  And  by  it  every  thing  shall  hang,"  &c. 


sc.  /.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  207 

mendations  go  with  pity,  they  are  virtues  and  trai- 
tors too;  in  her  they  are  the  better  for  their  simple- 
ness;5  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.0    The  remembrance  of  her  father 


Again,  in  Marlowe's  Tamburlaine,  p.  1,  1590: 
"  If  these  had  made  one  poem's  period, 
"  And  all  combin'd  in  beauties  worthynesse, 
"  Yet  should  there  hover  in  their  restlesse  heads 
"  One  thought,  one  grace,  one  wonder  at  the  least, 
*'  Which  into  words  no  vertue  can  digest."      Steevens. 

5  they  are  virtues  and  traitors  too  ;   in  her  they  are  the 

better  for  their  simpleness  ;]  Her  virtues  are  the  better  for  their 
simpleness,  that  is,  her  excellencies  are  the  better  because  they 
are  artless  and  open,  without  fraud,  without  design.  The 
learned  commentator  has  well  explained  virtues,  but  has  not, 
I  think,  reached  the  force  of  the  word  traitors,  and  therefore 
has  not  shown  the  full  extent  of  Shakspeare's  masterly  observa- 
tion. Virtues  in  an  unclean  mind  are  virtues  and  traitors  too. 
Estimable  and  useful  qualities,  joined  with  an  evil  disposition, 
give  that  evil  disposition  power  over  others,  who,  by  admiring 
the  virtue,  are  betrayed  to  the  malevolence.  The  Tatler,  men- 
tioning the  sharpers  of  his  time,  observes,  that  some  of  them 
are  men  of  such  elegance  and  knowledge,  that  a  young  man 
who  foils  into  their  way,  is  betrayed  as  much  by  his  judgment  as 
his  passions.    Johnson. 

In  As  you  like  it,' virtues  are  called  traitors  on  a  very  differ- 
ent ground : 

"  ■  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. 
"  O  what  a  world  is  this,  when  what  is  comely 
.    "  Envenoms  him  that  bears  it!"     Ma  lone. 

6 can  season  her  praise  in.]  To  season  has  here  a  cu- 
linary sense;  to  preserve  by  salting.  A  passage  in  Twelfth- 
Night  will  best  explain  its  meaning: 


208  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

never  approaches  her  heart,  but  the  tyranny  of  her 
sorrows  takes  all  livelihood7  from  her  cheek.  No 
more  of  this,  Helena,  go  to,  no  more;  lest  it  be 
rather  thought  you  affect  a  sorrow,  than  to  have.8 

Hel.  I  do  affect  a  sorrow,  indeed,  but  I  have 
it  too.9 

Laf.  Moderate  lamentation  is  the  right  of  the 
dead,  excessive  grief  the  enemy  to  the  living. 

" all  this  to  season 


"  A  brother's  dead  love,  which  she  would  keep  fresh, 
"  And  lasting  in  her  remembrance."     Malone. 

So,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  third  Iliad : 

"  Season'd  with  tears  her  joys,  to  see,"  &c.    Steevens. 

7  I.        all  livelihood  — ]  i.  e.  all  appearance  of  life. 

Steevens. 

•  lest  it  be  rather  thought  you  affect  a  sorrow,  than  to 

have.]  Our  author  sometimes  is  guilty  of  such  slight  inaccura- 
cies ;  and  concludes  a  sentence  as  if  the  former  part  of  it  had 
been  constructed  differently.  Thus,  in  the  present  instance,  he 
seems  to  have  meant — lest  you  be  rather  thought  to  affect  a 
sorrow,  than  to  have.     Malone. 

•  I  do  affect  a  sorrow,  indeed,  but  I  have  it  too.']  Helena 
has,  I  believe,  a  meaning  here,  that  she  does  not  wish  should 
be  understood  by  the  countess.  Her  affected  sorrow  was  for  the 
death  of  her  father  ;  her  real  grief  for  the  lowness  of  her  situa- 
tion, which  she  feared  would  for  ever  be  a  bar  to  her  union 
with  her  beloved  Bertram.  Her  own  words  afterwards  fully 
support  this  interpretation : 

" I  think  not  on  my  father ; — 

" What  was  he  like  ? 

"  I  have  forgot  him  ;  my  imagination 
"  Carries  no  favour  in  it  but  Bertram's : 
"  I  am  undone."    Malone. 

The  sorrow  that  Helen  affected,  was  for  her  father;  that 
which  she  really  felt,  was  for  Bertram's  departure.  The  line 
should  be  particularly  attended  to,  as  it  tends  to  explain  some 
subsequent  passages  which  have  hitherto  been  misunderstood. 

M.  Mason. 


9&  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  209 

Count.  If  the  living  be  enemy  to  the  grief,  the 
excess  makes  it  soon  mortal.1 

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  birth-right!  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'dfor  speech.  What  heaven  more  will, 
That  thee  may  furnish,2  and  my  prayers  pluck 

down, 
Fall  on  thy  head !  Farewell. — My  lord, 
'Tis  an  unseason'd  courtier  ;  good  my  lord, 
Advise  him. 


1  If  the  living  be  enemy  to  the  grief,  the  excess  makes  it  soon 
mortal.]  Lqfeu  says,  excessive  grief  is  the  enemy  of  the  living: 
the  Countess  replies,  If  the  living  be  an  enemy  to  grief,  the 
excess  soon  makes  it  mortal :  that  is,  If  the  living  do  not  indulge 
grief,  grief  destroys  itself  by  its  own  excess.  By  the  word  mortal 
I  understand  that  which  dies;  and  Dr.  Warburton  [who  reads 
— be  not  enemy — ]  that  which  destroys.  I  think  that  my  inter- 
pretation gives  a  sentence  more  acute  and  more  refined.  Let 
the  reader  judge.     Johnson. 

A  passage  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  in  which  our  author  again 
speaks  of  grief  destroying  itself  by  its  own  excess,  adds  support 
to  Dr.  Johnson's  interpretation: 

'*  scarce  any  joy 

"  Did  ever  live  so  long ;  no  sorrow 

"  But  hilVd  itself  much  sooner." 
In  Romeo  and  Juliet  we  meet  with  a  kindred  thought: 

"  These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends, 

"  And  in  their  triumph  die."     Malone. 

*  That  thee  may  furnish,']  That  may  help  thee  with  more 
and  better  qualifications.     Johnson. 

VOL.  VIII.  P 


jio  ALL'S  WELL  act  r. 

Laf.  He  cannot  want  the  best 

That  shall  attend  his  love. 

Count.  Heaven  bless  him  ! — Farewell,  Bertram. 

[Exit  Countess. 

Ber.  The  best  wishes,  that  can  be  forged  in 
your  thoughts,  \_To  Helena]  be  servants  to  you!5 
Be  comfortable  to  my  mother,  your  mistress,  and 
make  much  of  her. 

Laf.  Farewell,  pretty  lady :  You  must  hold  the 
credit  of  your  father. 

[Exeunt  Bertram  and  Lafeu- 

Hel.  O,  were  that  all! — I  think  not  on  my  fa- 
ther ; 4 

3  The  best  wishes,  &c]  That  is,  may  you  be  mistress  of  your 
wishes,  and  have  power  to  bring  them  to  effect.    Johnson. 

4  Laf.  Farewell,  pretty  lady:  You  must  hold  the  credit  of 
your  father. 

Hel.  O,  were  that  all! — I  think  not  on  my  father  \\  This 
passage  has  been  passed  over  in  silence  by  all  the  commentators, 
yet  it  is  evidently  defective.  The  only  meaning  that  the  speech 
of  Lafeu  will  bear,  as  it  now  stands,  is  this :  "  That  Helena, 
who  was  a  young  girl,  ought  to  keep  up  the  credit  which  her 
father  had  established,  who  was  the  best  physician  of  the  age ; 
and  she,  by  her  answer,  O,  were  that  all!  seems  to  admit  that 
it  would  be  no  difficult  matter  for  her  to  do  so."  The  absurdity 
of  this  is  evident;  and  the  words  will  admit  of  no  other  ir.ler- 
pretation.  Some  alteration  therefore  is  necessary ;  and  that  which 
I  propose  is,  to  read  uphold,  instead  of  must  hold,  and  then  the 
meaning  will  be  this :  "  Lafeu,  observing  that  Helena  had  shed 
a  torrent  of  tears,  which  he  and  the  Countess  both  ascribe  to  her 
grief  for  her  father,  says,  that  she  upholds  the  credit  of  her 
father,  on  this  principle,  that  the  surest  proof  that  can  be  given 
of  the  merit  of  a  person  deceased,  are  the  lamentations  of  those 
who  survive  him.  Bui  Helena,  who  knows  her  own  heart, 
wishes  that  she  had  no  other  cause  of  grief,  except  the  loss  of 
her  father,  whom  she  thinks  no  more  of."     M .  Masox. 

0,  were  that  all!  &c]  Would  that  the  attention  to  main- 
tain the  credit  of  my  father,   (or,  not  to  act  unbecoming  the 


so.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  211 

And  these  great  tears5  grace  his  remembrance 

more 
Than  those  I  shed  for  him.     What  was  he  like  ? 
I  have  forgot  him  :  my  imagination 
Carries  no  favour  in  it,  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.6 

daughter  of  such  a  father, — for  such  perhaps  is  the  meaning, ) 
were  my  only  solicitude !  I  think  not  of  him.  My  cares  are 
all  for  Bertram.     Malone. 

*  — —  these  great  tears  — ]  The  tears  which  the  King  and 
Countess  shed  for  him.    Johnson. 

And  these  great  tears  grace  his  remembrance  more 
Than  those  I  shed  for  him.']  Johnson  supposes  that,  by  these 
great  tears,  Helena  means  the  tears  which  the  King  and  the 
Countess  shed  for  her  father  ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  either 
of  those  great  persons  had  shed  tears  for  him,  though  they  spoke 
of  him  with  regret.  By  these  great  tears,  Helena  does  not  mean 
the  tears  of  great  people,  but  the  big  and  copious  tears  she  then 
shed  herself,  which  were  caused  in  reality  by  Bertram's  de- 
parture, though  attributed  by  Lafeu  and  the  Countess,  to  the 
loss  of  her  father ;  and  from  this  misapprehension  of  theirs, 
graced  his  remembrance  more  than  those  she  actually  shed  for 
him.  What  she  calls  gracing  his  remembrance,  is  what  Lafeu 
had  styled  before,  upholding  his  credit,  the  two  passages  tending 
to  explain  each  other. — It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  make  this 
grammatical  observation — That  if  Helena  had  alluded  to  any 
tears  supposed  to  have  been  shed  by  the  King,  she  would  have 
said  those  tears,  not  these,  as  the  latter  pronoun  must  necessarily 
refer  to  something  present  at  the  time.     M.  Mason. 

6  In  his  bright  radiance  and  collateral  light  &c]  I  cannot 
be  united  with  him  and  move  in  the  same  sphere,  but  must  be 
comforted  at  a  distance  by  the  radiance  that  shoots  on  all  sides 
from  him.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  B.  X: 

" from  his  radiant  seat  he  rose 

"  Of  high  collateral  glory."     Steevens. 

*     P  2 


212  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

The  ambition  in  my  love  thus  plagues  itself: 
The  hind,  that  would  be  mated  by  the  lion, 
Must  die  for  love.  'Twas  pretty,  though  a  plague, 
To  see  him  every  hour ;  to  sit  and  draw 
His  arched  brows,  his  hawking  eye,  his  curls, 
In  our  heart's  table  ; 7  heart,  too  capable 
Of  every  line  and  trick  of  his  sweet  favour : g 


7  '  Twas  pretty,  though  a  plague, 
To  see  him  evert/  hour  ;  to  sit  and  draw 
His  arched  brows,  his  hawking  eye,  his  curls, 
In  our  heart's  table ;]     So,  in  our  author's  24th  Sonnet : 
"  Mine  eye  hath  play'd  the  painter,  and  hath  steel'd 
"  Thy  beauty's  form  in  table  of  my  heart." 
A  table  was  in  our  author's  time  a  term  for  a  picture,  in 
which  sense  it  is  used  here.    Tableau,  French.    So,  on  a  picture 
painted  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  the  possession  of  the 
Hon.  Horace  Walpole : 

"  The  Queen  to  Walsingham  this  table  sent, 
"  Mark  of  her  people's  and  her  own  content." 

Malone. 

Table  here  only  signifies  the  board  on  which  any  picture  was 
painted.  So,  in  Mr.  Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting  in  Eng- 
land, Vol.  I.  p.  58 :  u  Item,  one  table  with  the  picture  of  the 
Duchess  of  Milan."  "  Item,  one  table  with  the  pictures  of  the 
King's  Majesty  and  Queen  Jane:"  &c.  Helena  would  not  have 
talked  of  drawing  Bertram's  picture  in  her  heart's  picture;  but 
considers  her  heart  as  the  tablet  or  surface  on  which  his  resem- 
blance was  to  be  pourtrayed.     Steevens. 

•  trick  of  his  sweet  favour  :"]     So,  in  King  John :  "  he 

hath  a  trick  of  Cceur  de  Lion's  face."     Trick  seems  to  be  some 
peculiarity  or  feature.     Johnson. 

Trick  is  an  expression  taken  from  drawing,  and  is  so  explained 
in  King  John,  Act  I.  sc.  i.  The  present  instance  explains  itself: 

to  sit  and  draw 

His  arched  brows,  &c. 

and  trick  of  his  sweet  favour. 

Trick,  however,  on  the  present  occasion,  may  mean  neither 
tracing  nor  outline,  but  peculiarity.     Steevens. 

Tricking  is  used  by  heralds  for  the  delineation  and  colouring 
of  arms,  &c.    Malone. 


sc.i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  213 

But  now  he's  gone,  and  my  idolatrous  fancy 
Must  sanctify  his  relicks.     Who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Parolles. 

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  in  the  cold  wind :  withal,  full  oft  we 

see 
Cold  wisdom  waiting  on  superfluous  folly.9 

Par.  Save  you,  fair  queen. 

Hel.  And  you,  monarch.1 

Par.  No. 

Hel.  And  no.2 

Par.  Are  you  meditating  on  virginity  ? 

Hel.  Ay.    You  have  some  stain  of  soldier 3  in 


9  Cold  wisdom  waiting  on  superfluous  Jolly.']  Cold  for  naked; 
as  superfluous  for  over-clothed.  This  makes  the  propriety  of 
the  antithesis.    Warburton. 

1  And  you,  monarch.]  Perhaps  here  is  some  allusion  de- 
signed to  Monarcho,  a  ridiculous  fantastical  character  of  the 
age  of  Shakspeare.  Concerning  this  person,  see  the  notes  on 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Act  IV.  sc.  i.     Steevens. 

8  And  no."]  I  am  no  more  a  queen  than  you  are  a  monarch, 
or  Monarcho.     Ma  lone. 

3  stain  of  soldier—']     Stain  for  colour.     Parolles  was 

in  red,  as  appears  from  his  being  afterwards  called  red-taiVd 
humble-bee.     Warburton. 

It  does  not  appear  from  either  of  these  expressions,  that  Pa- 
rolles was  entirely  drest  in  red.  Shakspeare  writes  only  some 
stain  of  soldier,  meaning  in  one  sense,  that  he  had  red  breeches 
on,  (which  is  sufficiently  evident  from  calling  him  afterwards 
red-taiVd  humble-bee, )  and  in  another,  that  he  was  a  disgrace 


214  ALL'S  WELL  act  r. 

you  ;  let  me  ask  you  a  question  :  Man  is  enemy  to 
virginity;  how  may  we  barricado  it  against  him? 

Par.  Keep  him  out. 

Hel.  But  he  assails  ;  and  our  virginity,  though 
valiant  in  the  defence,  yet  is  weak :  unfold  to  us 
some  warlike  resistance. 

Par.  There  is  none  ;  man,  sitting  down  before 
you,  will  undermine  you,  and  blow  you  up. 

Hel.  Bless  our  poor  virginity  from  under- 
miners,  and  blowers  up! — Is  there  no  military 
policy,  how  virgins  might  blow  up  men  ? 

Par.  Virginity,  being  blown  down,  man  will 
quicklier  be  blown  up :  marry,  in  blowing  him  down 
again,  with  the  breach  yourselves  made,  you  lose 
your  city.4  It  is  not  politick  in  the  commonwealth 


to  soldiery.  Stain  is  used  in  an  adverse  sense  by  Shakspeare, 
in  Troilus  and  Cressida :  "  —  nor  any  man  an  attaint,  but  he 
carries  some  stain  of  it." 

Mr.  M.  Mason  observes  on  this  occasion  that  "  though  a  red 
coat  is  now  the  mark  of  a  soldier  in  the  British  service,  it  was 
not  so  in  the  days  of  Shakspeare,  when  we  had  no  standing 
army,  and  the  use  of  armour  still  prevailed."  To  this  I  reply, 
that  the  colour  red  has  always  been  annexed  to  soldiership. 
Chaucer,  in  his  Knight's  Tale,  v.  1749,  has  "  Mars  the  rede," 
and  Boccace  has  given  Mars  the  same  epithet  in  the  opening  of 
his  Theseida  :  "  O  rubicondo  Marte."     Steevens. 

I  take  the  liberty  of  making  one  observation  respecting  Stee- 
vens's  note  on  this  passage,  which  is,  that  when  Chaucer  talks 
of  Mars  the  red,  and  Boccace  of  the  rubicondo  Marte,  they  both 
allude  to  the  countenance  and  complexion  of  the  god,  not  to  his 
clothes;  but  as  Lafeu,  in  Act  IV.  sc.  v.  calls  Parolles  the  red- 
tailed  humble-bee,  it  is  probable  that  the  colour  of  his  dress  was 
in  Helena's  contemplation.     M.  Mason. 

Stain  rather  for  what  we  now  say  tincture,  some  qualities,  at 
least  superficial,  of  a  soldier.    Johnson. 

*  "with  the  breach  yourselves  made,  you  lose  your  city  .J 

So,  in  our  author's  Lover's  Complaint : 


sc.i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  215 

of  nature,  to  preserve  virginity.  Loss  of  virginity 
is  rational  increase ; 5  and  there  was  never  virgin 
got,  till  virginity  was  first  lost.  That,  you  were 
made  of,  is  metal  to  make  virgins.  Virginity,  by 
being  once  lost,  may  be  ten  times  found :  by  being 
ever  kept,  it  is  ever  lost:  His  too  cold  a  com- 
panion ;  away  with  it. 

Hel.  I  will  stand  for't  a  little,  though  therefore 
I  die  a  virgin. 

Par.  There's  little  can  be  said  in't ;  'tis  against 
the  rule  of  nature.  To  speak  on  the  part  of  vir- 
ginity, is  to  accuse  your  mothers  ;  which  is  most 
infallible  disobedience.  He,  that  hangs  himself,  is 
a  virgin:  virginity  murders  itself  ;(i  and  should  be 
buried  in  highways,  out  of  all  sanctified  limit,  as 
a  desperate  offendress  against  nature.  Virginity 
breeds  mites,  much  like  a  cheese ;  consumes  itself 
to  the  very  paring,  and  so  dies  with  feeding  his  own 
stomach.  Besides,  virginity  is  peevish,  proud,  idle, 
made  of  self-love,  which  is  the  most  inhibited  sin 7 


"  And  long  upon  these  terms  I  held  my  city, 
"  Till  thus  he  'gan  besiege  me." 
Again,  in  The  Rape  of Lucrece  : 

"  This  makes  in  him  more  rage,  and  lesser  pity, 
"  To  make  the  breach,  and  enter  this  sweet  city" 

Malone. 

*  Loss  of  virginity  is  rational  increase ;]  I  believe  we  should 
read,  national.     Tyrwhitt. 

Rational  increase  may  mean  the  regular  increase  by  which 
rational  beings  are  propagated.     Steevens.  — 

6  He,  that  hangs  hirpself,  is  a  virgin :  virginity  murders  it- 
self;'] i.  e.  he  that  hangs  himself,  and  a  virgin,  are  in  this  cir- 
cumstance alike ;  they  are  both  self-destroyers.     Malone. 

7 inhibited  sin  — ]  i.  e.  forbidden.     So,  in  Othello  : 

" a  practiser 

,  "  Of  arts  inhibited  and  out  of  warrant."     Steevens. 


216  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

in  the  canon.  Keep  it  not ;  you  cannot  choose  but 
lose  bv't :  Out  with't :  within  ten  years  it  will 
make  itself  ten,8  which  is  a  goodly  increase ;  and 

8 within  ten  years  it  will  make  itself  ten,]   The  old  copy 

reads — "  within  ten  years  it  will  make  itself  two."  The  emenda- 
tion was  made  by  Sir  T.  Hanmer.  It  was  also  suggested  by  Mr. 
Steevens,  who  likewise  proposed  to  read — "  within  two  years  it 
will  make  itself  two"  Mr.  Toilet  would  read — "  witnin  ten 
years  it  will  make  itself  twelve.*' 

I  formerly  proposed  to  read — "  Out  with  it :  within  ten  months 
it  will  make  itself  two."  Part  with  it,  and  within  ten  months* 
time  it  will  double  itself;  i.  e.  it  will  produce  a  child. 

I  now  mention  this  conjecture,  (in  which  I  once  had  some 
confidence,)  only  for  the  purpose  of  acknowledging  my  error. 
I   had  not  sufficiently  attended  to  a  former   passage   in  this 
scene — "  Virginity,  by  being  once  lost,  maybe  ten  times  found," 
i.e.  may  produce  ten  virgins.    Those  words  likewise  are  spoken 
by  Parolles,  and  add  such  decisive  support  to  Sir  Thomas  Han- 
mer's  emendation,  that  I  have  not  hesitated  to  adopt  it.     The 
text,  as  exhibited  in  the  old  copy,  is  undoubtedly  corrupt.     It 
has  already  been  observed,  that  many  passages  in  these  plays,  in 
which  numbers  are  introduced,  are  printed  incorrectly.     Our 
author's  sixth  Sonnet  fully  supports  the  emendation  here  made : 
"  That  use  is  not  forbidden  usury, 
"  Which  happies  those  that  pay  the  willing  loan ; 
"  That's  for  thyself,  to  breed  another  thee, 
"  Or  ten  times  happier,  be  it  ten  for  one. 
"  Ten  times  thyself  were  happier  than  thou  art, 
"  If  ten  of  thine  ten  times  refigur'd  thee.*' 

"  Out  with  it,"  is  used  equivocally. — Applied  to  virginity,  it 
means,  give  it  away ;  part  with  it :  considered  in  another  light, 
it  signifies,  put  it  out  to  interest.  In  The  Tempest  we  have — 
"  Each  putter  out  on  five  for  one,"  &c.    Malone. 

There  is  no  reason  for  altering  the  text.  A  well-known  ob- 
servation of  the  noble  earl,  to  whom  the  horses  of  the  present 
generation  owe  the  length  of  their  tails,  contains  the  true  ex- 
planation of  this  passage.     Henley. 

I  cannot  help  repeating,  on  this  occasion,  Justice  Shallow's 
remark:  "  Give  me  pardon,  sir: — If  you  come  with  news,  I 
take  it  there  is  but  two  ways  ; — either  to  utter  them,  or  to  conceal 
them."  With  this  noble  earl's  notorious  remark,  I  am  quite  un- 
acquainted.   Steevens. 


We.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  217 

the  principal  itself  not  much  the  worse :  Away 
with't. 

Hel.  How  might  one  do,  sir,  to  lose  it  to  her 
own  liking  ? 

Par.  Let  me  see :  Marry,  ill,  to  like  him  that 
ne'er  it  likes.9  'Tis  a  commodity  will  lose  the  gloss 
with  lying ;  the  longer  kept,  the  less  worth  :  off 
with't,  while  'tis  vendible  :  answer  the  time  of  re- 
quest. Virginity,  like  an  old  courtier,  wears  her 
cap  out  of  fashion ;  richly  suited,  but  unsuitable : 
just  like  the  brooch  and  tooth-pick,  which  wear  not 
now : l  Your  date  is  better 2  in  your  pie  and  your 
porridge,  than  in  your  cheek :  And  your  virginity, 
your  old  virginity,  is  like  one  of  our  French  wither- 
ed pears  ;  it  looks  ill,  it  eats  drily ;  marry,  'tis  a 
withered  pear ;  it  was  formerly  better ;  marry,  yet, 
'tis  a  withered  pear :  Will  you  any  thing  with  it  ? 

Hel.  Not  my  virginity  yet.3 


* Marry,  ill,  to  like  him  that  ne'er  it  likes."]  Parolles, 

in  answer  to  the  question,  "  How  one  shall  lose  virginity  to  her 
own  liking  ?"  plays  upon  the  word  liking,  and  says,  she  must  do 
ill,  for  virginity,  to  be  so  lost,  must  like  him  that  likes  not  vir- 
ginity.    Johnson. 

1 which  wear  not  now:]  Thus  the  old  copy,  and  rightly. 

Shakspeare  often  uses  the  active  for  the  passive.  The  modern 
editors  read,  "  which  tve  wear  not  now."     Tyrwhitt. 

The  old  copy  has  were.     Mr.  Rowe  corrected  it.     Malone. 

* Your  date  is  better  — ]  Here  is  a  quibble  on  the  word 

date,  which  means  both  age,  and  a  candied  fruit  much  used  in 
our  author's  time.     So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet: 

"  They  call  for  dates  and  quinces  in  the  pastry." 
The  same  quibble  occurs  in  Troilus  and  Cressida :  "  —  and  then 
to  be  bak'd  with  no  date  in  the  pie,  for  then  the  man's  date  is 
out."     Steevens. 

?  Not  my  virginity  yet.]  The  whole  speech  is  abrupt,  un- 
connected, and  obscure.     Dr.  Warburton  thinks  much  of  it 


218  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

There  shall  your  master  have  a  thousand  loves, 
A  mother,  and  a  mistress,  and  a  friend, 

supposititious.  I  would  be  glad  to  think  so  of  the  whole,  for  a 
commentator  naturally  wishes  to  reject  what  he  cannot  under- 
stand. Something,  which  should  connect  Helena's  words  with 
those  of  Parolles,  seems  to  be  wanting.  Hanmer  has  made  a 
fair  attempt,  by  reading  : 

\»t  my  virginity  yet. — You're  for  the  court, 

There  .shall  your  master,  &c. 
Some  such  clause  has,  I  think,  dropped  out,  but  still  the  first 
words  want  connection.     Perhaps  Parolles,  going  away  from  his 
harangue,  said,  will  you  any  thing  xvith  me?  to  which  Helen 

may  reply. 1  know  not  what  to  do  with  the  passage. 

Johnson. 

I  do  not  perceive  so  great  a  want  of  connection  as  my  prede- 
cessors h.«.ve  apprehended;  nor  is  that  connection  always  to  be 
sought  for,  in  so  careless  a  writer  as  ours,  from  the  thought  im- 
mediately preceding  the  reply  of  the  speaker.  Parolles  has 
been  laughing  at  the  unprofitableness  of  virginity,  especially 
when  it  grows  ancient,  and  compares  it  to  withered  fruit. 
Helena,  properly  enough,  replies,  that  hers  is  not  yet  in  that 
state ;  but  that  in  the  enjoyment  of  her,  his  master  should  find 
the  gratification  of  all  his  most  romantic  wishes.  What  Dr. 
Warburton  says  afterwards  is  said  at  random,  as  all  positive  de- 
clarations of  the  same  kind  must  of  necessity  be.  Were  I  to 
propose  any  change,  I  would  read  should  instead  of  shall.  It 
does  not,  however,  appear  that  this  rapturous  effusion  of  Helena 
was  designed  to  be  intelligible  to  Parolles.  Its  obscurity,  there- 
fore, may  be  its  merit.  It  sufficiently  explains  what  is  passing 
in  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  to  every  one  but  him  to  whom  she 
does  not  mean  to  explain  it.     Steevens. 

Perhaps  we  should  read:  "Will  you  any  thing  with  us?" 
i.  e.  will  you  send  any  thing  with  us  to  court  ?  to  which  Helena's 
answer  would  be  proper  enough — 

"  Not  my  virginity  yet." 
A  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Txjcelfth-Night,  Act  III.  sc.  i : 
"  You'll  nothing,  madam,  to  my  lord  by  me  ?" 

Tyrwhitt. 

Perhaps  something  has  been  omitted  in  Parolles's  speech.  u  I 
am  novo  bound  for  the  court ;  will  you  any  thing  with  it  [i.  e.  with 
the  court?"]  So,  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 

"  Tell  me  what  you  have  to  the  king." 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  219 

A  phoenix,4  captain,5  and  an  enemy, 
A  guide,  a,  goddess,  and  a  sovereign, 


I  do  not  agree  with  Mr.  Steevens  in  the  latter  part  of  his 
note  ;  "  —  that  in  the  enjoyment  of  her,"  &c.     Malone. 

I  am  satisfied  the  passage  is  as  Shakspeare  left  it.  Parolles, 
after  having  cried  down,  with  all  his  eloquence,  old  virginity, 
in  reference  to  what  he  had  before  said,  "  That  virginity  is  a 
commodity  the  longer  kept,  the  less  worth  :  otf  with't,  while 
'tis  vendible.  Answer  the  time  of  request."  asks  Helena, — 
"  Willow  any  thing  with  it  ?'' — to  which  she  replies — "  Not 
my  virginity  yet.'*     Henley. 

*  A  phcenix,  &c]  The  eight  lines  following  friend,  I  am  per- 
suaded, is  the  nonsense  of  some  foolish  conceited  player.  What 
put  it  into  his  head  was  Helen's  saying,  as  it  should  be  read  for 
the  future : 

There  shall  your  master  have  a  thousand  loves  ; 
A  mother,  and  a  mistress,  and  a  friend, 
I  know  not  achat  he  shall — God  send  him  tvell. 
Where  thefellow,  finding  a  thousand  loves  spoken  of,  and  only 
three  reckoned  up,  namely,    a  mother's,  a  mistress's,    and  a 
friend's,  (which,  by  the  way,  were  all  a  judicious  writer  could 
mention ;  for  there  are  but  three  species  of  love  in  nature,)  he 
would  help  out  the  number,  by  the  intermediate  nonsense :  and, 
because  they  were  yet  too  few,  he  pieces  out  his  loves  with  e«- 
mities,  and  makes  of  the  whole  such  finished  nonsense,  as  is 
never  heard  out  of  Bedlam.     Warburton. 

*  captain,']  Our  author  often  uses  this  word  for  a  head 

or  chief.     So,  in  one  of  his  Sonnets  : 

"  Or  captain  jewels  in  the  carkanet." 
Again,  in   Timon  of  Athens  :  "  —  the  ass  more  captain  than 
the  lion.'* 

Again,  more  appositely,  in  Othello,  where  it  is  applied  to 
Desdemona : 

.  " our  great  captain's  captain." 

We  find  some  of  these  terms  of  endearment  again  used  in 
The  Winter's  Tale.     Leontes  says  to  the  young  Mamillius, 

"  Come,  captain,  we  must  be  neat,"  &c. 
Again,  in  the  same  scene,  Polixenes,  speaking  of  his  son,  says  : 
"  He's  all  my  exercise,  my  mirth,  my  matter ; 
*'  Now  my  sworn  friend,  and  then  mine  enemy ; 
"  My  parasite,  my  soldier,  statesman,  all."    Mai.oni-  . 


220  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

A  counsellor,  a  traitress,6  and  a  dear ; 
His  humble  ambition,  proud  humility, 
His  jarring  concord,  and  his  discord  dulcet, 
His  faith,  his  sweet  disaster ;  with  a  world 
Of  pretty,  fond,  adoptious  Christendoms,7 


• a  traitress,]  It  seems  that  traitress  was  in  that  age  a 

term  of  endearment,  for  when  Lafeu  introduces  Helena  to  the 
king,  he  says,  "  You  are  like  a  traytor,  but  such  traytors  his 
majesty  does  not  much  fear."     Johnson. 

I  cannot  conceive  that  traitress  ( spoken  seriously)  was  in  any 
age  a  term  of  endearment.  From  trie  present  passage,  we  might 
as  well  suppose  enemy  (in  the  last  line  but  one)  to  be  a  term  of 
endearment.  In  the  other  passage  quoted,  Lafeu  is  plainly 
speaking  ironically.     Tyrwhitt. 

Traditora,  a  traitress,  in  the  Italian  language,  is  generally 
used  as  a  term  of  endearment.  The  meaning  of  Helena  is, 
that  she  shall  prove  every  thing  to  Bertram.  Our  ancient  writ- 
ers delighted  in  catalogues,  and  always  characterize  love  by 
contrarieties.     Steevens. 

Falstaff,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  says  to  Mrs.  Ford  : 
"  Thou  art  a  traitor  to  say  so."  In  his  interview  with  her,  he 
certainly  meant  to  use  the  language  of  love. 

Helena,  however,  I  think,  does  not  mean  to  say  that  she 
shall  prove  every  thing  to  Bertram,  but  to  express  her  appre- 
hension that  he  will  find  at  the  court  some  lady  or  ladies  who 
shall  prove  everything  to  him;  ("a  phoenix,  captain,  coun- 
sellor, traitress ;"  &c.)  to  whom  he  will  give  all  the  fond  names 
that  "  blinking  Cupia  gossips."     Malone. 

I  believe  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  find  in  the  love  poetry  of 
those  times  an  authority  for  most,  if  not  for  every  one,  of  these 
whimsical  titles.  At  least  I  can  affirm  it  from  knowledge,  that 
far  the  greater  part  of  them  are  to  be  found  in  the  Italian  lyrick 
poetry,  which  was  the  model  from  which  our  poets  chiefly 
copied.     Heath. 

7  Christendoms, 2  This  word,  which  signifies  the  collec- 
tive body  of  Christianity,  every  place  where  the  christian  religion 
is  embraced,  is  surely  used  with  much  licence  on  the  present 
occasion.  It  is  also  employed  with  a  similar  sense  in  an  Epitaph 
"  on  an  only  Child,"  which  the  reader  will  find  at  the  end  of 
Wit's  Recreations,  1644)  : 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  221 

That  blinking  Cupid  gossips.    Now  shall  he 

I  know  not  what  he  shall : — God  send  him  well! — 
The  court's  a  learning-place; — and  he  is  one 

Par.  What  one,  i'faith  ? 

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;55  which  never 
Returns  us  thanks. 


rt  As  here  a  name  and  ckristendome  to  obtain, 

"  And  to  his  Maker  then  return  again."     Steevens. 

It  is  used  by  another  ancient  writer  in  the  same  sense;  so  that 
the  word  probably  bore,  in  our  author's  time,  the  signification 
which  he  has  affixed  to  it.     So,  in  A  Royal  Arbor  of  Loyal 
Poesie,  by  Thomas  Jordan,  r.o  date,  but  printed  about  1661 : 
"  She  is  baptiz'd  in  Christendom, 

[i.  e.  by  a  christian  name,] 
"  The  Jew  cries  out  he's  undone — ." 

These  lines  are  found  in  a  ballad  formed  on  part  of  the  story 
of  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  in  which  it  is  remarkable  that  it  is 
the  Jew's  daughter,  and  not  Portia,  that  saves  the  Merchant's 
life  by  pleading  his  cause.  There  should  seem  therefore  to  have 
been  some  novel  on  this  subject  that  has  hitherto  escaped  the 
researches  of  the  commentators.  In  the  same  book  are  ballads 
founded  on  the  fables  of  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  and  The 
Winter's  Tale.     Malone. 

8  And  shovo  what  we  alone  must  think;"]  And  show  by  realities 
what  we  now  must  only  think.    Johnson. 


222  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 


Enter  a  Page. 

Page.  Monsieur  Parolles,  my  lord  calls  for  you. 

[Exit  Page. 

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,  1  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,9 
and  I  like  the  wear  well. 

9  is  a  virtue  of  a   good  wing,]    Mr.   Edwards   is   of 

opinion,  that  a  virtue  of  a  good  wing  refers  to  his  nimbleness  or 
fleetness  in  running  away.  The  phrase,  however,  is  taken  from 
falconry,  as  may  appear  from  the  following  passage  in  Marston's 
Fawne,  1606:  "  I  lore  my  horse  after  a  journeying  easiness,  as 
he  is  easy  in  journeying;  my  hawk,  for  the  goodness  of  his 
wing,"  &c.  Or  it  may  be  taken  from  dress.  So,  in  Every 
Man  out  of  his  Humour :  "  I  would  have  mine  such  a  suit 
without  a  difference;  such  stuff,  such  awing,  such  a  sleeve," 
&c.  Mr.  Toilet  observes,  that  a  good  wing  signifies  a.  strong 
wing  in  Lord  Bacon's  Natural  History,   experiment  866 : — 


so.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  223 

Par.  I  am  so  full  of  businesses,  I  cannot  answer 
thee  acutely:  I  will  return  perfect  courtier;  in  the 
which,  my  instruction  shall  serve  to  naturalize  thee, 
so  thou  wilt  be  capable  of  a  courtier's  counsel,1  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.     [Exit, 


"  Certainly  many  birds  of  a  good  tving  (as  kites  and  the  like) 
would  bear  up  a  good  weight  as  they  fly."  The  same  phrase, 
however,  anciently  belonged  to  archery.  So  Ascham,  in  his 
Toxophilus,  edit.  1589,  p.  57:  " — another  shaft — because  it 
is  lower  feathered,  or  else  because  it  is  of  a  better  tving,"  &c. 

Steevens. 

The  reading  of  the  old  copy  (which  Dr.  Warburton  changed 
to  mingj  is  supported  by  a  passage  in  King  Henri/  V.  in  which 
we  meet  with  a  similar  expression-:  "  Though  his  affections  are 
higher  mounted  than  ours,  yet  when  they  stoop,  they  stoop  with 
the  like  tving." 

Again,  in  King  Henri/  IV.  T.I: 
"  Yet  let  me  wonder  Harry, 
"  At  thy  affections,  which  do  hold  a  tving, 
"  Quite  from  the  flight  of  all  thy  ancestors."    Malone. 

The  meaning  of  this  passage  appears  to  be  this:  "  If  your 
valour  will  suffer  you  to  go  backward  for  advantage,  and  your 
fear  for  the  same  reason  will  make  you  run  away,  the  compo- 
sition that  your  valour  and  fear  make  in  you,  must  be  a  virtue 
that  will  fly  far  and  swiftly." — A  bird  of  a  good  wing,  is  a  bird 
of  swift  and  strong  flight. 

Though  the  latter  part  of  this  sentence  is  sense  as  it  stands, 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  there  is  an  error  in  it,  arid  that  we 
ought  to  read — "  And  is  like  to  wear  well,"  instead  of  "  /  like 
the  wear  well."     M.  Mason. 

1 so  thou  tvilt  be  capable  of  a  courtier's  counsel,'}  i.  e. 

thou  wilt  comprehend  it.  See  a  note  in  Hamlet  on  the  words — 
"  Whose  form  and  cause  conjoin'd,  preaching  to  stones, 
"  Would  make  them  capable."     Malone. 


ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

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?a 
The  mightiest  space  in  fortune  nature  brings 
To  join  like  likes,  and  kiss  like  native  things.3 
Impossible  be  strange  attempts,  to  those 
That  weigh  their  pains  in  sense ;  and  do  suppose, 
What  hath  been4  cannot  be  :  Who  ever  strove 
To  show  her  merit,  that  did  miss  her  love  ? 


*  What power  is  it,  which  mounts  my  love  so  high  ; 

That  makes  me  see,  and  cannot  feed  mine  eyc?~\  She  means, 
by  what  influence  is  my  love  directed  to  a  person  so  much  above 
me  ?  why  am  I  made  to  discern  excellence,  and  left  to  long 
after  it,  without  the  food  of  hope?     Johnson. 

3  hiss  like  native  things.']     Things  formed  by  nature  for 

each  other.     M.  Mason. 

So,  in  Chapman's  metrical  "  Address  to  the  Reader,"  pre- 
fixed to  his  translation  of  Homer's  Iliad,  1611: 
**  Our  monosyllables  so  kindly  fall 
"  And  meete,  opposde  in  rime,  as  they  did  kisse." 

Steevens. 

*  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  — ]  All  these  four  lines  are  obscure,  and, 
I  believe,  corrupt ;  I  shall  propose  an  emendation,  which  those 
who  can  explain  the  present  reading,  are  at  liberty  to  reject : 
Through  mightiest  space  in  fortune  nature  brings 
Likes  to  join  likes,  and  kiss  like  native  things. 
That  is,  nature  brings  like  qualities  and  dispositions  to  meet 
through  any  distance  that  fortune  may  set  between  them ;  sfie 
joins  them  and  makes  them  kiss  like  things  born  together. 
The  next  lines  I  read  with  Sir  T.  Hanmer  : 
Impossible  be  strange  attempts  to-  those 
That  weigh  their  pains  in  sense,  and  do  suppose 
What  ha'n't  been,  cannot  be. 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  225 

The  king's  disease — my  project  may  deceive  me. 
But  my  intents  are  fix'd,  and  will  not  leave  me. 

[Exit. 

New  attempts  seem  impossible  to  those  who  estimate  their 
labour  or  enterprises  by  sense,  and  believe  that  nothing  can  be 
but  what  they  see  before  them.     Johnson. 

I  understand  the  meaning  to  be  this — The  affections  given  us 
by  nature  often  unite  persons  between  tvhom  fortune  or  accident 
has  placed  the  greatest  distance  or  disparity  ;  and  cause  them  to 
join,  like  likes  (instar  parium)  like  persons  in  the  same  situation 
or  rank  of  life.  Thus  (as  Mr.  Steevens  has  observed)  in  Timon 
of  Athens: 

"  Thou  solderest  close  impossibilities , 

"  And  mak'st  them  kiss." 
This  interpretation  is  strongly  confirmed  by  a  subsequent 
speech  of  the  Countesses  steward,  who  is  supposed  to  have  over- 
heard this  soliloquy  of  Helena :  "  Fortune,  she  said,  was 
no  goddess,  that  had  put  such  difference  betwixt  their  two 
estates." 

The  mightiest  space  in  fortune,  for  persons  the  most  tmdely 
separated  by  fortune,  is  certainly  a  licentious  expression ;  but  it 
is  such  a  licence  as  Shakspeare  often  takes.  Thus,  in  Cym- 
beline,  the  diminution  of  space  is  used  for  the  diminution,  of 
which  space,  or  distance,  is  the  cause. 

If  he  had  written  spaces,  ( as  in  Troilus  and  Cressida, 

" her  whom  we  know  well 

"  The  world's  large  spaces  cannot  parallel,)" 
the  passage  would  have  been  more  clear ;  but  he  was  confined 
by  the  metre.     We  might,  however,  read — 

The  mightiest  space  in  nature  fortune  brings 

To  join,  &c. 
i.  e.  accident  sometimes  unites  those  whom  inequality  of  rank 
has  separated.     But  I  believe  the  text  is  right.    Malone.     . 


VOL.  VIII. 


226  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

SCENE  II. 

Paris.  A  Room  in  the  Ki?ig's  Palace. 

Flourish  of  cornets.     Enter  the  King  of  France, 
with  letters;  Lords  and  others  attending. 

King.  The  Florentines  and  Senoys5  are  by  the 
ears; 
Have  fought  with  equal  fortune,  and  continue 
A  braving  war. 

1  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. 

1  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. 

2  Lord.  It  may  well  serve 

*  Senoys  — ]     The  Sanest,  as  they  are  termed  by  Boc- 

cace.  Painter,  who  translates  him,  calls  them  Senois.  They 
were  the  people  of  a  small  republick,  of  which  the  capital  was 
Sienna.  The  Florentines  were  at  perpetual  variance  with 
them.     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  227 

A  nursery  to  our  gentry,  who  are  sick 
For  breathing  and  exploit. 

King.  What's  he  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Bertram,  Lafeu,  and  Parolles. 

1  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  compos'd  thee.  Thy  father's  moral  parts 
May'st  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 
First  try'd  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 : 7  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.8 

n  Rousillon,"]  The  old  copy  reads  Rosignoll.  Steevens. 

7  It  much  repairs  me 

To  talk  of  your  good  father  :~\     To  repair,  in  these  plays, 
generally  signifies,  to  renovate.     So,  in  Cymbeline  : 

* O  disloyal  thing, 

"  That  should'st  repair  my  youth  !"     Malone. 
•  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.']     I  believe  honour 

Q  2 


228  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

So  like  a  courtier,  contempt  nor  bitterness 
Were  in  his  pride  or  sharpness ;  if  they  were, 
His  equal  had  awak'd  them  ; 9  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:1  who  were  below 
him 

is  not  dignity  of  birth  or  rank,  but  acquired  reputation : — 
Your  father,  says  the  king,  had  the  same  airy  fights  of  satirical 
xvit  with  the  young  lords  of  the  present  time,  but  they  do  not  what 
he  did,  hide  their  unnoted  levity,  in  honour,  cover  petty  faults 
with  great  merit. 

This  is  an  excellent  observation.  Jocose  follies,  and  slight 
offences,  are  only  allowed  by  mankind  in  him  that  over-powers 
them  by  great  qualities.    Johnson. 

Point  thus : 

He  had  the  wit,  which  I  can  well  observe 
To-day  in  our  young  lords:  but  they  may  jest, 
Till  their  own  scorn  returns  to  them,  un-noted, 
Ere  they  can  hide  their  levity  in  honour, 
So  like  a  courtier.     Contempt,  &c.     Blackstone. 

The  punctuation  recommended  by  Sir  William  Blackstone  is, 
I  believe,  the  true  one,  at  least  it  is  such  as  deserves  the  reader's 
consideration.     Steevens. 

9  So  like  a  courtier,  contempt  nor  bitterness 
Were  in  his  pride  or  sharpness  ;  if  they  were, 
His  equal  had  awak'd  them;]     Nor  was  used  without  re- 
duplication.    So,  in  Measure  for  Measure: 
"  More  nor  less  to  others  paying, 
"  Than  by  self-offences  weighing." 
The  old  text  needs  to  be  explained.    He  was  so  like  a  courtier, 
that  there  was  in  his  dignity  of  manner  nothing  contemptuous, 
and  in  his  keenness  of  wit  nothing  bitter.     If  bitterness  or  con- 
temptuousness  ever  appeared,  they  had  been  awakened  by  some 
injury,  not  of  a  man  below  him,  but  of  his  equal.     This  is  the 
complete  image  of  a  well-bred  man,  and  somewhat  like  this 
Voltaire  has  exhibited  his  hero,  Lewis  XIV.     Johnson. 

1  His  tongue  obey'd  his  hand:]  We  should  read — His 
tongue  obey'd  the  hand.  That  is,  the  hand  of  his  honour's 
clock,  showing  the  true  minute  when  exceptions  bad  him  speak. 

Johnson. 


st\  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  229 

He  us'd  as  creatures  of  another  place;2 

And  bow'd  his  eminent  top  to  their  low  ranks, 

Making  them  proud  of  his  humility, 

In  their  poor  praise  he  humbled: 3  Such  a  man 


His  is  put  for  its.     So,  in  Othello  : 

" her  motion 

"  Blush'd  at  herself." — instead  of  itself.     Steevens. 

*  He  us'd  as  creatures  of  another  place ;~\  i.  e.  he  made 
allowances  for  their  conduct,  and  bore  from  them  what  he 
would  not  from  one  of  his  own  rank.  The  Oxford  editor,  not 
understanding  the  «ense,  has  altered  another  place  to  a  brother- 
race.    Warburton. 

I  doubt  whether  this  was  our  author's  meaning.  I  rather 
incline  to  think  that  he  meant  only,  that  the  father  of  Bertram 
treated  those  below  him  with  becoming  condescension,  as  crea- 
tures not  indeed  in  so  high  a  place  as  himself,  but  yet  holding  a 
certain  place  ;  as  one  of  the  links,  though  not  the  largest,  of  the 
great  chain  of  society. 

In  The  Winter's  Tale,  place  is  again  used  for  rank  or  situa- 
tion in  life : 

" O  thou  thing, 

"  Which  I'll  not  call  a  creature  of  thy  place.*' 

Malone. 

3  Making  them  proud  of  his  humility, 
In  their  poor  praise  he  humbled:']     But  why  were   they 
proud  of  his  humility?     It  should  be  read  and  pointed  thus : 
Making  them  proud;  and  his  humility. 
In  their  poor  praise,  he  humbled — 
i.  e.  by  condescending  to  stoop  to  his  inferiors,  he  exalted  them 
and  made  them  proud  ;  and,  in  the  gracious  receiving  their  poor 
praise,  he  humbled  even  his  humility.     The  sentiment  is  fine. 

Warburton. 

Every  man  has  seen  the  mean  too  often  proud  of  the  humility 
of  the  great,  and  perhaps  the  great  may  sometimes  be  humbled 
in  the  praises  of  the  mean,  of  those  who  commend  them  with- 
out conviction  or  discernment :  this,  however,  is  not  so  com- 
mon; the  mean  are  found  more  frequently  than  the  great. 

Johnson. 

I  think  the  meaning  is, — Making  them  proud  of  receiving 
such  marks  of  condescension  and  affability  from  a  person  in  so 
elevated  a  situation,  and  at  the  same  time  lowering  or  humbling 
himself,  by  stooping  to  accept  of  the  encomiums  of  mean  per- 


230  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

Might  be  a  copy  to  these  younger  times  ; 
Which,  follow'd  well,  would  demonstrate  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.4 

sons  for  that  humility.  The  construction  seems  to  be,  "  he  being 
humbled  in  their  poor  praise."    Malone. 

Giving  them  a  better  opinion  of  their  own  importance,  by  his 
condescending  manner  of  behaving  to  them.    M.  Mason. 

*  So  in  approof  lives  not  his  epitaph, 
As  in  your  royal  speech.']    Epitaph  for  character. 

Warburton. 

I  should  wish  to  read— 

Approof  'so  lives  not  in  his  epitaph, 
As  in  your  royal  speech. 
Approof  is  approbation.     If  I  should  allow  Dr.  Warburton's  in- 
terpretation of  epitaph,  which  is  more  than  can  be  reasonably 
expected,  I  can  yet  find  no  sense  in  the  present  reading. 

Johnsow. 

We  might,  by  a  slight  transposition,  read — 

So  his  approof  lives  not  in  epitaph, 
Approof  certainly  means  approbation.      So,  in  Cynthia* s  Re- 
venge: 

*'  A  man  so  absolute  in  my  approof, 

"  That  nature  hath  reserv'd  small  dignity 

"  That  he  enjoys  not." 
Again,  in  Measure  for  Measure: 

"  Either  of  commendation  or  approqf."     Steevens. 

Perhaps  the  meaning  is  this : — His  epitaph  or  inscription  on 
his  tomb  is  not  so  much  in  approbation  or  commendation  of  him, 
as  is  your  royal  speech.     Tollet. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  the  word  approqf  is  frequently 
used  in  the  sense  of  approbation,  but  this  is  not  always  the 
case ;  and  in  this  place  it  signifies  proof  or  confirmation.  The 
meaning  of  the  passage  appears  to  be  this:  "  The  truth  of  his 
epitaph  is  in  no  way  so  fully  proved,  as  by  your  royal  speech." 
It  is  needless  to  remark,  that  epitaphs  generally  contain  the 
character  and  praises  of  the  deceased.  Approqf  'is  used  in  the 
same  sense  by  Bertram,  in  the  second  Act : 


mi  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  231 

King,  'Would,  I  were  with  him !   He  would 
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 , 
Thus5  his  good  melancholy  oft  began, 
On  the  catastrophe  and  heel  of  pastime, 
When  it  was  out, — let  me  not  live,  quoth  he, 
After  myjlame  lacks  oil,  to  be  the  snuff 
Of  younger  spirits,  whose  apprehensive  senses 
All  but  new  things  disdain;  whose  judgments  are 
Mere  fathers  of  their  garments  ;c  whose  constancies 

"  Laf.  But  I  hope  your  lordship  thinks  him  not  a  soldier. 
"  Ber.  Yes,  my  lord,  and  of  very  valiant  approqf." 

M.  Mason. 

Mr.  Heath  supposes  the  meaning  to  be  this :  "  His  epitaph, 
or  the  character  he  left  behind  him,  is  not  so  well  established 
by  the  specimens  he  exhibited  of  his  worth,  as  by  your  royal 
report  in  his  favour."  The  passage  above  quoted  from  Act  II. 
supports  this  interpretation.     Malone. 

*  Thus — ]     Old  copy — This.     Corrected  by  Mr.  Pope. 

Malone. 

'  — —  whose  judgments  are 
Mere  fathers  of  their  garments;]    Who  have  no  other  use 
of  their  faculties,  than  to  invent  new  modes  of  dress. 

Johnson. 

I  have  a  suspicion  that  Shakspeare  wrote — mere  feathers  of 
their  garments;  i.e.  whose  judgments  are  merely  parts  (and 
insignificant  parts)  of  their  dress,  worn  and  laid  aside,  as  fea- 
thers are,  from  the  mere  love  of  novelty  and  change.  He  goes 
on  to  say,  that  they  are  even  less  constant  in  their  judgments 
than  in  their  dress: 

their  constancies 

Expire  before  their  fashions.     Tyrwhitt. 

The  reading  of  the  old  copy— -fathers,  is  supported  by  a  simi- 
lar passage  in  Cymbeline: 

" some  jay  of  Italy 

"  Whose  mother  was  her  painting— -." 


232  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

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  dissolved  from  my  hive, 
To  give  some  labourers  room. 

2  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  mucn  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  it7  at  their  leisure.     Welcome,  count ; 
My  son's  no  dearer. 

Ber.  Thank  your  majesty. 

\_Exeunt.     Flourish. 

Again,  by  another  in  the  same  play : 

" No,  nor  thy  tailor,  rascal, 

"  Who  is  thy  grandfather ;  he  made  those  clothes, 

"  Which,  as  it  seems,  make  thee." 
There  the  garment  is  said  to  be  the  father  of  the  man : — in  the 
text,  the  judgment,  being  employed  solely  in  forming  or  giving 
birth  to  new  dresses,  is  called  the  father  of  the  garment.     So, 
in  King  Henry  IV.  P,  II: 

" every  minute  now 

"  Should  be  the  father  of  some  stratagem."     Malone. 

7  -        nature  and  sickness 

Debate  it — ]     So,  in  Macbeth: 
"  Death  and  nature  do  contend  about  them." 

Steevens, 


sc.  m.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  2SS 

SCENE  III. 

Rousillon.     A  Room  in  the  Countess's  Palace. 

Enter  Countess,  Steward,  and  Clown.8 

Count.  I  will  now  hear :  what  say  you  of  this 
gentlewoman  ? 

8 Steward,  and  Clown.]  A  Clown  in  Shakspeare  is  com- 
monly taken  for  a  licensed  jester,  or  domestick  fool.  We  are  not 
to  wonder  that  we  find  this  character  often  in  his  plays,  since 
fools  were  at  that  time  maintained  in  all  great  families,  to  keep 
up  merriment  in  the  house.  In  the  picture  of  Sir  Thomas  More's 
family,  by  Hans  Holbein,  the  only  servant  represented  is  Patison 
the  fool.  This  is  a  proof  of  the  familiarity  to  which  they  were 
admitted,  not  by  the  great  only,  but  the  wise. 

In  some  plays,  a  servant,  or  a  rustic,  of  a  remarkable  petu- 
lance and  freedom  of  speech,  is  likewise  called  a  clown. 

Johnson. 

Cardinal  Wolsey,  after  his  disgrace,  wishing  to  show  King 

Henry  VIII.  a  mark  of  his  respect,  sent  him  his  fool  Patch,  as 

a  present;  whom,  says  Stowe,  "the  King  received  very  gladly." 

Malone. 
This  dialogue,  or  that  in  Twelfth-Night,  between  Olivia  and 
the  Clown,  seems  to  have  been  particularly  censured  by  Cart- 
wright,  in  one  of  the  copies  of  verses  prefixed  to  the  works  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 

"  Shakspeare  to  thee  was  dull,  whose  best  jest  lies 
"  I'  th'  ladys  questions,  and  the  fool's  replies ; 
u  Old  fashion'd  wit,  which  walk'd  from  town  to  town 
"  In  trunk-hose,  which  our  fathers  call'd  the  Cloton." 
In  the  MS.  Register  of  Lord  Stanhope  of  Harrington,  treasurer 
of  the  chamber  to  King  James  I.  from  1613  to  1616,  are  the 
following  entries :  "  Tom  Derry,  his  majesty's  fool,  at  2s.  per 
diem, — 1615  :    Paid  John  Mawe  for  the  diet  and  lodging  of 
Thomas  Derrie,  her  majesty's  jester,  for  13  weeks,  10/.  18s.  6d. 
— 16l6."     Steevens. 

The  following  lines  in  The  Careless  Shepherdess,  a  comedy, 
1656,  exhibit  probably  a  faithful  portrait  or  this  once  admired 
character: 


234  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

Stew.  Madam,  the  care  I  have  had  to  even  your 
content,9 1  wish  might  be  found  in  the  calendar  of 
my  past  endeavours  ;  for  then  we  wound  our  mo- 
desty, and  make  foul  the  clearness  of  our  deserv- 
ings,  when  of  ourselves  we  publish  them.1 

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 :  for,  I  know,  you  lack  not  folly  to  commit 
them,  and  have  ability  enough  to  make  such 
knaveries  yours.3 


"  Why,  I  would  have  the  fool  in  every  act, 

"  Be  it  comedy  or  tragedy.    I  have  laugh'd 

'*  Untill  I  cry'd  again,  to  see  what  faces 

"  The  rogue  will  make. — O,  it  does  me  good 

"  To  see  him  hold  out  his  chin,  hang  down  his  hands, 

u  And  twirl  his  bable.     There  is  ne'er  a  part 

"  About  him  but  breaks  jests. — 

"  I'd  rather  hear  him  leap,  or  laugh,  or  cry, 

"  Than  hear  the  gravest  speech  in  all  the  play. 

'*  I  never  saw  Reade  peeping  through  the  curtain, 

"  But  ravishing  joy  enter'd  into  my  heart."     Malone. 

9 to  even  your  content^  To  act  up  to  your  desires. 

Johnson. 

1 when  of  ourselves  we  publish  them.']    So,  in  Troilus  and 

Cressida  : 

"  The  worthiness  of  praise  distains  his  worth, 

"  If  he  that's  prais'd,  himself  brings  the  praise  forth." 

Malone. 

*  you  lack  not  Jolly   to  commit  them,  and   have  ability 

enough  to  make  such  knaveries  yours.]  After  premising  that  the 
accusative,  them,  refers  to  the  precedent  word,  complaints,  and 
that  this,  by  a  metonymy  of  the  effect  for  the  cause,  stands  for 
the  freaks  which  occasioned  those  complaints,  the  sense  will  be 
extremely  clear :  "  You  are  fool  enough  to  commit  those  irregu- 
larities you  are  charged  with,  and  yet  not  so  much  fool  neither, 
as  to  discredit  the  accusation  by  any  defect  in  your  ability." 

Heath. 


It  appears  to  me  that  the  accusative  them  refers  to  knaveries, 


sc.  iiu  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  235 

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  damned : 3 
But,  if  I  may  have  your  ladyship's  good  will  to  go 
to  the  world,4  Isbel  the  woman  and  1 5  will  do  as 
we  may. 

Count.  Wilt  thou  needs  be  a  beggar  ? 

Clo.  I  do  beg  your  good-will  in  this  case. 

Count.  In  what  case  ? 

Clo.  In  Isbel's  case,  and  mine  own.  Service  is 
no  heritage  : 6  and,  I  think,  I  shall  never  have  the 
blessing  of  God,  till  I  have  issue  of  my  bodyj  for, 
they  say,  beams  are  blessings. 

Count.  Tell  me  thy  reason  why  thou  wilt  marry. 

Clo.  My  poor  body,  madam,  requires  it :  I  am 
driven  on  by  the  flesh;  and  he  must  needs  go, 
that  the  devil  drives. 

Count.  Is  this  all  your  worship's  reason  ? 

and  the  natural  sense  of  the  passage  seems  to  be  this :  "  You 
have  folly  enough  to  desire  to  commit  these  knaveries,  and 
ability  enough  to  accomplish  them."     M.  Mason. 

3 are  damned  .•]  See  S.  Mark,  x.  25 ;  S.  Luke,  xviii.  25. 

Grey, 

4  to  go  to  the  ■world,']  This  phrase  has  already  occurred 

in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  and  signifies  to  be  married:  and 
thus,  in  As  you  like  it,  Audrey  says :  "  —  it  is  no  dishonest  de- 
sire, to  desire  to  be  a  woman  of  the  'world."     Steevens. 

4 and  I — ]  /,  which  was  inadvertently  omitted  in  the 

first  copy,  was  supplied  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 

Malone. 

6  Service  is  no  heritage :]  This  is  a  proverbial  expression. 
Needs  must  when  the  devil  drives,  is  another.     Ritson. 


236  ALL'S  WELL  act  I. 

Clo..  Faith,  madam,  I  have  other  holy  reasons, 
such  as  they  are. 

Count.  May  the  world  know  them  ? 

Clo.  I  have  been,  madam,  a  wicked  creature,  as 
you  and  all  flesh  and  blood  are ;  and,  indeed,  I  do 
marry,  that  I  may  repent. 

Coui>t.  Thy  marriage,  sooner  than  thy  wicked- 
ness. 

Clo.  I  am  out  of  friends,  madam  j  and  I  hope 
to  have  friends  for  my  wife's  sake. 

Count.  Such  friends  are  thine  enemies,  knave. 

Clo.  You  are  shallow,  madam ;  e'en  great 
friends  ;7  for  the  knaves  come  to  do  that  for  me, 
which  I  am  a-weary  of.8     He,  that  ears  my  land,* 

7  Clo.  You  are  shallow,  madam;  e'en  great  friends ;]  The 
meaning  [i.  e.  of  the  ancient  reading  mentioned  in  the  subse- 
quent note]  seems  to  be,  you  are  not  deeply  skilled  in  the  cha- 
racter or  offices  of  great  friends.     Johnson. 

The  old  copy  reads — in  great  friends ;  evidently  a  mistake  for 
e'en,  which  was  formerly  written  e'n.  The  two  words  are  so 
near  in  sound,  that  they  might  easily  have  been  confounded  by 
an  inattentive  hearer. 

The  same  mistake  has  happened  in  many  other  places  in  our 
author's  plays.  So,  in  the  present  comedy,  Act  III.  sc.  ii.  folio, 
1623: 

"  Lady.  What  have  we  here  ? 
'*■  Clown.  In  that  you  have  there." 
Again,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 

"  No  more  but  in  a  woman." 
Again,  in  Twelfth- Night : 

"  'Tis  with  him  in  standing  water,  between  boy  and 
man." 
The  corruption  of  this  passage  was  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Tyr- 
whitt.     For  the  emendation  now  made,  I  am  answerable. 

Malone. 

8 the  knaves  come  to  do  that  for  me,  which  I  am  a-weary 

of]    The  same  thought  is  more  dilated  in  an  old  MS.  play,  en- 
titled, The  Second  Maid's  Tragedy: 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  237 

spares  my  team,  and  gives  me  leave  to  inn  the 
crop :  if  I  be  his  cuckold,  he's  my  drudge :  He, 
that  comforts  my  wife,  is  the  cherisher  of  my  flesh 
and  blood ;  he,  that  cherishes  my  flesh  and  blood, 
loves  my  flesh  and  blood ;  he,  that  loves  my  flesh 
and  blood,  is  my  friend :  ergo,  he  that  kisses  my 
wife,  is  my  friend.  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,  howsoe'er  their  hearts  are  severed  in 
religion,  their  heads  are  both  one,  they  may  joll 
horns  together,  like  any  deer  i*  the  herd. 


"  Soph.  I  have  a  wife,  would  she  were  so  preferr'd ! 
"  I  could  but  be  her  subject ;  so  I  am  now. 
"  I  allow  her  her  owne  frend  to  stop  her  mowth, 
"  And  keep  her  quiet ;  give  him  his  table  free, 
"  And  the  huge  feeding  of  his  great  stone-horse, 
"  On  which  he  rides  in  pompe  about  the  cittie 
"  Only  to  speake  to  gallants  in  bay-windowes. 
"  Marry,  his  lodging  he  paies  deerly  for ; 
"  He  getts  me  all  my  children,  there  I  save  by't ; 
"  Beside,  I  drawe  my  life  owte  by  the  bargaine 
"  Some  twelve  yeres  longer  than  the  tymes  appointed ; 
"  When  my  young  prodigal  gallant  kicks  up's  heels 
"  At  one  and  thirtie,  and  lies  dead  and  rotten 
"  Some  five  and  fortie  yeares  before  I'm  coffin'd. 
u  'Tis  the  right  waie  to  keep  a  woman  honest: 
"  One  friend  is  baracadoe  to  a  hundred, 
11  And  keepes  'em  owte  ;  nay  more,  a  husband's  sure 
"  To  have  his  children  all  of  one  man's  gettinge ; 
"  And  he  that  performes  best,  can  have  no  better : 
"  I'm  e'en  as  happie  then  that  save  a  labour." 

Steevens. 

9 that  ears  my  land,]  To  ear  is  to  plough.    So,  in  Antony 

.  rdCleopatra  : 

**  Make  the  sea  serve  them,  which  they  ear  and  wound 
"  With  keels  of  every  kind."     Steevens. 

See  1  Sam.  viii.  12.  Isaiah,  xxx.  24.  Deut.  xxi.  4.  Gen.  xlv.  6. 
Exod.  xxxiv.  21,  for  the  use  of  this  verb.     Henley. 


238  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

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 Jind; 

Your  marriage  comes  by  destiny, 
Your  cuckoo  sings  by  kind? 

Count.  Get  you  gone,  sir ;  I'll  talk  with  you 
more  anon. 


1  A  prophet  J,  madam;  and  I  speak  the  truth  the  next  way:"} 
It  is  a  superstition,  which  has  run  through  all  ages  and  people, 
that  natural  fools  have  something  in  them  of  divinity.  On  . 
which  account  they  were  esteemed  sacred :  Travellers  tell  us  in 
what  esteem  the  Turks  now  hold  them ;  nor  had  they  less  ho- 
nour paid  them  heretofore  in  France,  as  appears  from  the  old 
word  benet,  for  a  natural  fool.  Hence  it  was  that  Pantagruel, 
in  Rabelais,  advised  Panurge  to  go  and  consult  the  fool  Triboulet 
as  an  oracle  ;  which  gives  occasion  to  a  satirical  stroke  upon  the 
privy  council  of  Francis  the  First — Par  Vavis,  conseil,  prediction 
desjbh  vos  scavez  quants  princes,  Sfc.  ont  este  conservez,  &c.  The 
phrase — speak  the  truth  the  next  "way,  means  directly ;  as  they  do 
who  are  only  the  instruments  or  canals  of  others ;  such  as  inspired 
persons  were  supposed  to  be.     Warburton. 

See  the  popular  story  of  Nixon  the  Idiot's  Cheshire  Prophecy. 

Douce. 

Next  way,  is  nearest  way.     So,  in  K.  Henry  IV.  Part  I : 
"  'Tis  the  next  way  to  turn  tailor,"  &c.     Steevens. 

Next  way  is  a  phrase  still  used  in  Warwickshire,  and  signifies 
without  circumlocution,  or  going  aboxd.     Henley. 

*  — —  sings  by  kind.]  I  find  something  like  two  of  the  lines  of 
this  ballad  in  John  Grange's  Garden,  1577  : 

"  Content  yourself  as  well  as  I,  let  reason  rule  your 

minde, 
"  As  cuckoldes  come  by  destinie,  so  cuckowes  sing  by 
kinde."     Steevens. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  239 

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, 

[Singing. 
Why  the  Grecians  sacked  Troy  ? 
Fond  done?  done  fond, 

Was  this  king  Priam* s  joy. 

3  Was  this  fair  face  the  cause,  &c]  The  name  of  Helen,  whom 
the  Countess  has  just  called  for,  brings  an  old  ballad  on  the 
sacking  of  Troy  to  the  Clown's  mind.     Malone. 

This  is  a  stanza  of  an  old  ballad,  out  of  which  a  word  or  two 
are  dropt,  equally  necessary  to  make  the  sense  and  alternate 
rhyme.  For  it  was  not  Helen,  who  was  King  Priam's  joy,  but 
Paris.     The  third  line,  therefore,  should  be  read  thus : 

Fond  done,  fond  done,  for  Paris,  he — .     War  burton. 

If  this  be  a  stanza  taken  from  any  ancient  ballad,  it  will  pro- 
bably in  time  be  found  entire,  and  then  the  restoration  may  be 
made  with  authority.     Steevens. 

In  confirmation  of  Dr.  Warburton's  conjecture,  Mr.  Theobald 
has  quoted,  from  Fletcher's  Maid  in  the  Mill,  the  following 
stanza  of  another  old  ballad: 

"  And  here  fair  Paris  comes, 

"  The  hopeful  youth  of  Troy, 
"  Queen  Hecuba's  darling  son, 

"  King  Priam*  s  only  joy." 
This  renders  it  extremely  probable,  that  Paris  was  the  person 
described  as  "  king  Priam's  joy"  in  the  ballad  quoted  by  our 
author;  but  Mr.  Heath  has  justly  observed,  that  Dr.  Warbur- 
ton,  though  he  has  supplied  the  words  supposed  to  be  lost,  has 
not  explained  them ;  nor,  indeed,  do  they  seem,  as  they  are 
connected,  to  afford  any  meaning.  In  1585  was  entered  on 
the  Stationers'  books,  by  Edward  White,  The  Lamentation  of 
Hecuba,  and  the  Ladyes  of  Troye ;  which  probably  contained 
the  stanza  here  quoted.     Malone. 

I  am  told  that  this  work  is  little  more  than  a  dull  amplifica- 
tion of  the  latter  part  of  the  twenty-fourth  Book  of  Homer's 


240  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

With  that  she  sighed  as  she  stood, 
With  that  she  sighed  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.6 

Count.  What,  one  good  in  ten  ?  you  corrupt 
the  song,  sirrah. 

Clo.  One  good  woman  in  ten,  madam ;  which 
is  a  purifying  o*  the  song :  'Would  God  would  serve 


Iliad.    I  also  learn,  from  a  memorandum  by  Dr.  Farmer,  that 
The  Life  and  Death  of  St.  George,  a  ballad,  begins  as  follows  : 
"  Of  Hector's  deeds  did  Homer  sing, 
"  And  of  the  sack  of  stately  Troy  ; 
"  What  grief  fair  Helen  did  them  bring 

"  Which  was  Sir  Paris'  only  joy."     Steevens. 

4  Fond  done,"]  Is  foolishly  done.  So,  in  King  Richard  III. 
Act  III.  sc.  iii : 

U Sorrow  and  grief  of  heart, 

"  Makes  him  speak  fondly."     Steevens. 

4  With  that  she  sighed  as  she  stood,]  At  the  end  of  the  line  of 
which  this  is  a  repetition,  we  find  added  in  Italick  characters  the 
word  bis,  denoting,  I  suppose,  the  necessity  of  its  being  repeated. 
The  corresponding  line  was  twice  printed,  as  it  is  here  inserted, 
from  the  oldest  copy.     Steevens. 

6  Among  nine  bad  if  one  be  good,  ■ 
There' s  yet  one  good  in  ten.~\  This  second  stanza  of  the  bal- 
lad is  turned  to  a  joke  upon  the  women :  a  confession,  that  there 
was  one  good  in  ten.  Whereon  the  Countess  observed,  that  he 
corrupted  the  song  ;  which  shows  the  song  said— nine  good  in 
ten. 

If  one  be  bad  amongst  -nine  good, 
There's  but  one  bad  in  ten. 
This  relates  to  the  ten  sons  of  Priam,  who  all  behaved  them- 
selves well  but  Paris.  For,  though  he  once  had  fifty,  yet,  at 
this  unfortunate  period  of  his  reign,  he  had  but  ten  ;  Agathon, 
Antiphon,  Deiphobus,  Dius,  Hector,  Helenus,  Hippothous,  Pam- 
vion,  Paris,  and  Polites.     Warburton. 


sc.  ui.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  241 

the  world  so  all  the  year !  we'd  find  no  fault  with 
the  tythe-woman,  if  I  were  the  parson:  One  in  ten, 
quoth  a* !  an  we  might  have  a  good  woman  born 
but  every  blazing  star,7  or  at  an  earthquake,  'twould 
mend  the  lottery  well  j8  a  man  may  draw  his  heart 
out,  ere  he  pluck  one. 

Count.  You'll  be  gone,  sir  knave,  and  do  as  I 
command  you  ? 

Clo.  That  man  should  be  at  woman's  command, 
and  yet  no  hurt  done ! — Though  honesty  be  no  pu- 
ritan, yet  it  will  do  no  hurt ;  it  will  wear  the  sur- 
plice of  humility  over  the  black  gown  of  a  big 
heart.0 — I  am  going,  forsooth  :  the  business  is  for 
Helen  to  come  hither.  [Exit  Clown. 

7 but  every  blazing  star,"]    The  old  copy  reads — but  ore 

evert/  blazing  star.     Steevens. 

I  suppose  o'er  was  a  misprint  for  or,  which  was  used  by  our 
old  writers  for  before.     Malone. 

8 'twould  mend  the  lottery  well ;]  This  surely  is  a  strange 

kind  of  phraseology.  1  have  never  met  with  any  example  of  it 
in  any  of  the  contemporary  writers ;  and  if  there  were  any  proof 
that  in  the  lotteries  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  'wheels  were  em- 
ployed, I  should  be  inclined  to  read — lottery  •wjieel.     Malone. 

9  Clo.  That  man  &c]  The  Clown's  answer  is  obscure.  His 
lady  bids  him  do  as  he  is  commanded.  He  answers,  with  the 
licentious  petulance  of  his  character,  that  if  a  man  does  as  a  wo- 
man commands,  it  is  likely  he  will  do  amiss  ;  that  he  does  not 
amiss,  being  at  the  command  of  a  woman,  he  makes  the  effect, 
not  of  his  lady's  goodness,  but  of  his  own  honesty,  which,  though 
not  very  nice  or  puritanical,  will  do  no  hurt;  and  will  not  only 
do  no  hurt,  but,  unlike  the  puritans,  will  comply  with  the  injunc- 
tions of  superiors,  and  wear  the  surplice  of  humility  over  the 
black  gown  of  a  big  heart ;  will  obey  commands,  though  not  much 
pleased  with  a  state  of  subjection. 

Here  is  an  allusion,  violently  enough  forced  in,  to  satirize  the 
obstinacy  with  which  the  puritans  refused  the  use  of  the  eccle- 
siastical habits,  which  was,  at  that  time,  one  principal  cause  of 
the  breach  of  the  union,  and,  perhaps,  to  insinuate,  that  the 
modest  purity  of  the  surplice  was  sometimes;  a  cover  for  pride. 

Johnson. 
VOL.  VIII.  R 


242  ALL'S  WELL  act  I. 

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 


The  aversion  of  the  puritans  to  a  surplice  is  alluded  to  in  many 
of  the  old  comedies.     So,  in  Cupid's  Whirligig,  1607  : 

" She  loves  to  act  in  as  clean  linen  as  any  gentlewoman 

of  her  function  about  the  town ;  and  truly  that's  the  reason  that 
your  sincere  puritans  cannot  abide  a  surplice,  because  they  say 
'tis  made  of  the  same  thing  that  your  villainous  sin  is  committed 
in,  of  your  prophane  holland." 

Again,  in  The  Match  at  Midnight,  1633  : 

"  He  has  turn'd  my  stomach  for  all  the  world  like  a  puritan's 
at  the  sight  of  a  surplice." 

Again,  in  The  Hollander,  1640: 

*'  A  puritan,  who,  because  he  saw  a  surplice  in  the 

church,  would  needs  hang  himself  in  the  bell-ropes." 

Steevens. 

I  cannot  help  thinking  we  should  read—  Though  honesty  be  a 
puritan — .     Tyrwhitt. 

Surely  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  correction  is  right.  If  our  author  had 
meant  to  say — though  honesty  be  no  puritan, — why  should  he 
add — that  it  "would  wear  the  surplice,  &c*  or,  in  other  words,  that 
it  would  be  content  to  assume  a  covering  that  puritans  in  general 
reprobated  ?  What  would  there  be  extraordinary  in  this  i  Is  it 
matter  of  wonder,  that  he  who  is  no  puritan,  should  be  free  from 
the  scruples  and  prejudices  of  one  ? 

The  Clown,  I  think,  means  to  say,  "  Though  honesty  be  rigid 
and  conscientious  as  a  puritan,  yet  it  will  not  be  obstinate,  but 
humbly  comply  with  the  lawful  commands  of  its  superiors,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  its  proud  spirit  inwardly  revolts  against  them." 
I  suspect,  however,  a  still  farther  corruption ;  and  that  the  com- 
positor caught  the  words  "  no  hurt"  from  the  preceding  line. 
Our  author,  perhaps,  wrote — "  Though  honesty  be  a  puritan, 
yet  it  will  do  what  is  enjoined ;  it  will  wear  the  surplice  of  hu- 
mility, over  the  black  gown  of  a  big  heart."  I  will,  therefore, 
©bey  my  mistress,  however  reluctantly,  and  go  for  Helena. 

MALON&. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  243 

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  god- 
dess, that  had  put  such  difference  betwixt  their  two 
estates ;  Love,  no  god,  that  would  not  extend  his 
might,  only  where  qualities  were  level ; l  Diana,  no 
queen  of  virgins,  that  would  suffer  her  poor  knight 
to  be  surprised,  without  rescue,  in  the  first  assault, 
or  ransome  afterward:2  This  she  deliver'd  in  the 
most  bitter  touch  of  sorrow,  that  e'er  I  heard  virgin 
exclaim  in :  which  I  held  my  duty,  speedily  to  ac- 

■only  where  qualities  were  level;"]    The  meaning  may 


be,  where  qualities  only,  and  not  fortunes  or  conditions,  were 
level.  Or,  perhaps,  only  is  used  for  except:  " — that  would 
not  extend  his  might,  except  where  two  persons  were  of  equal 
rank."    Malone. 

* Love,  no  god,  &c.     Diana,  no  queen  of  virgins,  &c] 

This  passage  stands  thus  in  the  old  copies : 

Love,  no  god,  that  would  not  extend  his  might  only  where 
qualities  were  level ;  queen  of  virgins,  that  would  suffer  her  poor 
Knight,  &c. 

"lis  evident  to  every  sensible  reader  that  something  must 
have  slipt  out  here,  by  which  the  meaning  of  the  context  is 
rendered  defective.  The  steward  is  speaking  in  the  very  words 
he  overheard  of  the  young  lady ;  fortune  was  no  goddess,  she 
said,  for  one  reason  ;  love,  no  god,  for  another : — what  could 
she  then  more  naturally  subjoin,  than  as  I  have  amended  in  the 
text. 

Diana,  no  queen  of  virgins,  that  would  stiffer  her  poor  knight  to 
be  surprised  without  rescue,  &c. 

For,  in  poetical  history,  Diana  was  as  well  known  to  preside 
over  chastity,  as  Cupid  over  love,  or  Fortune  over  the  change  or 
regulation  of  our  circumstances.    Theobald. 

r2 


244  ALL'S  WELL  act  l 

quaint  you  withal ;  sithence,3  in  the  loss  that  may 
happen,  it  concerns  you  something  to  know  it. 

Count.  You  have  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,  an*  I 
thank  you  for  your  honest  care :  I  will  speak  with 
you  further  anon.  [Exit  Steward. 

Enter  Helena. 

Count.  Even  so  it  was  with  me,  when  I  was 
young : 
If  we  are  nature's,4  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 5  of  days  foregone, 
Such  were  our  faults ; — or  then  we  thought  them 

none.6 
Her  eye  is  sick  on't ;  I  observe  her  now. 


'  ■  '  ■■  sithence^  i.  e.  since.  So,  in  Spenser's  State  of  Ire- 
land:  "  — the  beginning  of  all  other  evils  which  sithence  have 
afflicted  that  land."  Chaucer  frequently  uses  sith,  and  sithen, 
in  the  same  sense.     Steevens. 

4  If  we  are  nature's,']  The  old  copy  reads — If  ever  we  are 
nature's.    Steevens. 

'The  emendation  was  made  by  Mr.  Pope.    Malone. 

3  By  our  remembrances — ]  That  is,  according  to  our  recollec- 
tion.    So  we  say,  he  is  old  by  my  reckoning.    Johnson. 

•  Such  were  our  faults  ; — or  then  we  thought  them  none.]  We 

should  read :  O I  then  we  thought  them  none. 

A  motive  for  pity  and  pardon,  agreeable  to  fact,  and  the  in- 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  245 

Hel.  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ? 

Count.     •  You  know,  Helen, 

I  am  a  mother  to  you. 

Hel.  Mine  honourable  mistress. 

Count.  Nay,  a  mother  j 

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  enwombed  mine  :   'Tis  often  seen, 
Adoption  strives  with  nature  ;  and  choice  breeds 
A  native  slip  to  us  from  foreign  seeds  : 7 
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,  I  am  thy  mother  ?  What's  the  matter, 
That  this  distemper'd  messenger  of  wet, 
The  many-colour'd  Iris,  rounds  thine  eye  ? 8 
Why  ? that  you  are  my  daughter  ? 

dulgent  character  of  the  speaker.    This  was  sent  to  the  Oxford 
editor,  and  he  altered  O,  to  though.     Warburton. 

Such  were  the  faulty  weaknesses  of  which  I  was  guilty  in  my 
3routh,  or  such  at  least  were  then  my  feelings,  though,  perhaps, 
at  that  period  of  my  life,  I  did  not  think  they  deserved  the  name 
of  faults.  Dr.  Warburton,  without  necessit}',  as  it  seems  to  me, 
reads — **  0!  then  we  thought  them  none;" — and  the  subse- 
quent editors  adopted  the  alteration.    Malone. 


and  choice  breeds 


A  native  slip  to  us  from  foreign  seeds:"]  And  our  choice 
furnishes  us  with  a  slip  propagated  to  us  from  foreign  seeds, 
which  we  educate  and  treat,  as  if  it  were  native  to  us,  and 
sprung  from  ourselves.     Heath. 

•  — — — —  What's  the  matter, 
That  this  distemper'd  messenger  of  wet, 
The  many-colour'd  Iris,  rounds  thine  eye  ?]   There  is  some- 
thing exquisitely  beautiful  in  this  representation  of  that  suffusion 


246  ALL'S  WELL  act  I. 

Hel.  That  I  am  not. 

Count.  I  say,  I  am  your  mother. 

Hel.  Pardon,  madam ; 

The  count  Rousillon  cannot  be  my  brother : 
I  am  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  mo- 
thers, 
I  care  no  more  for,  than  I  do  for  heaven, 
So  I  were  not  his  sister:9  Can't  no  other, 
But,  I  your  daughter,  he  must  be  my  brother  ? l 

of  colours  which  glimmers  around  the  sight  when  the  eye-lashes 
are  wet  with  tears.  The  poet  hath  described  the  same  appear- 
ance in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece  : 

"  And  round  about  her  tear-distained  eye 

"  Blue  circles  stream'd  like  rainbows  in  the  sky." 

Henley. 
'  ■  or  isere  you  both  our  mothers, 

I  care  no  more  for,  than  I  do  for  heaven, 
So  I  were  not  his  sister  .•]  There  is  a  designed  ambiguity :  / 
care  no  more  for,  is,  I  care  as  much  for.    I  wish  it  equally. 

Farmer. 
In  Troilus  and  Cressida  we  find — "  I  care  not  to  be  the  louse 
of  a  lazar,  so  I  were  not  Menelaus."  There  the  words  certainly 
mean,  I  should  not  be  sorry  or  unwilling  to  be,  &c.  According 
to  this,  then,  the  meaning  of  the  passage  before  us  should  be, 
"  If  you  were  mother  to  us  both,  it  would  not  give  me  more  so- 
licitude than  heaven  gives  me,— -so  I  were  not  his  sister."  But 
Helena  certainly  would  not  confess  an  indifference  about  her 
future  state.  However,  she  may  mean,  as  Dr.  Farmer  has 
suggested,  "  I  should  not  care  more  than,  but  equally  as,  I  car* 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  247 

Count.  Yes,  Helen,  you  might  be  my  daughter- 
in-law  ; 
God  shield,  you  mean  it  not!  daughter, and  mother, 
So  strive2  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.3  Now  to  all  sense  "'tis  gross, 
You  love  my  son ;  invention  is  asham'd, 
Against  the  proclamation  of  thy  passion, 

for  future  happiness ;  I  should  be  as  content,  and  solicit  it  as 
much,  as  I  pray  for  the  bliss  of  heaven."     Malone. 

1 Can't  no  other. 

But,  I  your  daughter,  he  must  be  my  brother  f\  The  meaning 
is  obscured  by  the  elliptical  diction.  Can  it  be  no  other  way, 
but  if  /  be  your  daughter,  he  must  be  my  brother?     Johnson. 

• strive  — ]  To  strive  is  to  contend.     So,  in  Cymbeline  : 

"  That  it  did  strive  in  workmanship  and  value." 

Steevens- 
*  —————  Now  I  see 
The  mystery  of  your  loneliness,  and  find 
Your  salt  tears*  head.]  The  old  copy  reads — loveliness. 

Steevens. 

The  mystery  of  her  loveliness  is  beyond  my  comprehension : 
the  old  Countess  is  saying  nothing  ironical,  nothing  taunting, 
or  in  reproach,  that  this  word  should  find  a  place  here ;  which 
it  could  not,  unless  sarcastically  employed,  and  with  some 
spleen.  I  dare  warrant  the  poet  meant  his  old  lady  should  say 
no  more  than  this :  "  I  now  find  the  mystery  of  your  creeping 
into  corners,  and  weeping,  and  pining  in  secret."  For  this  rea- 
son I  have  amended  the  text,  loneliness.  The  Steward,  in  the 
foregoing  scene,  where  he  gives  the  Countess  intelligence  of 
Helena's  behaviour,  says — 

"  Alone  she  was,  and  did  communicate  to  herself,  her  own 
words  to  her  own  ears."     Theobald. 

The  late  Mr.  Hall  had  corrected  this,  I  believe,  rightly,— 
your  lowliness.    Tyrwhitt. 

I  think  Theobald's  correction  as  plausible.  To  choose  solitude 
is  a  mark  of  love.     Steevens. 

Your  salt  tears'  head.]  The  source,  the  fountain  of  your  tears, 
the  cause  of  your  grief.    Johnson. 


248  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

To  say,  thou  dost  not :  therefore  tell  me  true ; 
But  tell  me  then,  'tis  so : — for,  look,  thy  cheeks 
Confess  it,  one  to  the  other ;  and  thine  eyes 
See  it  so  grossly  shown  in  thy  behaviours, 
That  in  their  kind 4  they  speak  it :  only  sin 
And  hellish  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, 
Whereof  the  world  takes  note :  come,  come,  dis- 
close 
The  state  of  your  affection  ;  for  your  passions 
Have  to  the  lull  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. 

4 in  their  kind — ]  i.e.  in  their  language,  according  to 

their  nature,    Steevens. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  249 

I  know  I  love  in  vain,  strive  against  hope  ; 

Yet,  in  this  captious  and  intenible  sieve,5 

I  still  pour  in  the  waters  of  my  love, 

And  lack  not  to  lose  still : 6  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, 

*  captious  and  intenible  sieve,']     The  word  captious  I 

never  found  in  this  sense ;  yet  I  cannot  tell  what  to  substitute, 
unless  carious  for  rotten,  which  )?et  is  a  word  more  likely  to 
have  been  mistaken  by  the  copiers  than  used  by  the  author. 

Johnson. 

Dr.  Farmer  supposes  captious  to  be  a  contraction  of  capacious. 
As  violent  ones  are  to  be  found  among  our  ancient  writers,  and 
especially  in  Churchyard's  Poems,  with  which  Shakspeare  was 
not  unacquainted.     Steevens, 

By  captious,  I  believe  Shakspeare  only  meant  recipient,  capa- 
ble of  receiving  what  is  put  into  it;  and  by  intenible,  incapable 
of  holding  or  retaining  it.  How  frequently  he  and  the  other 
writers  of  his  age  confounded  the  active  and  passive  adjectives, 
has  been  already  more  than  once  observed. 

The  original  copy  reads — intemible.  The  correction  was 
made  in  the  second  folio.    Malone. 

6  And  lack  not  to  lose  still:"]     Perhaps  we  should  read— 
And  lack  not  to  love  still.     Tyrwhitt. 

I  believe  lose  is  right.     So  afterwards,  in  this  speech : 
"  -whose  state  is  such,  that  cannot  choose 

"  But  lend  and  give,  where  she  is  sure  to  lose." 

Helena  means,  I  think,  to  say  that,  like  a  person  who  pours 
water  into  a  vessel  full  of  holes,  and  still  continues  his  employ- 
ment, though  he  finds  the  water  all  lost,  and  the  vessel  empty, 
so,  though  she  finds  that  the  waters  of  her  love  are  still  lost, 
that  her  affection  is  thrown  away  on  an  object  whom  she  thinks 
she  never  can  deserve,  she  yet  is  not  discouraged,  but  perse- 
veres in  her  hopeless  endeavour  to  accomplish  her  wishes.  The 
poet  evidently  alludes  to  the  trite  story  of  the  daughters  of 
Danaus.    Malone. 


250  ALL'S  WELL  act  l 

Whose  aged  honour  cites  a  virtuous  youth,7 
Did  ever,  in  so  true  a  flame  of  liking, 
Wish  chastly,  and  love  dearly,  that  your  Dian 
Was  both  herself  and  love ; 8  O  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.9 

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  experience,  had  collected 
For  general  sovereignty ;  and  that  he  will'd  me 
In  heedf idlest  reservation  to  bestow  them, 

7  Whose  aged  honour  cites  a  virtuous  youth,']  i.  e.  whose 
respectable  conduct  in  age  shows,  or  proves,  that  you  were  no 
less  virtuous  when  young.  As  a  fact  is  proved  by  citing  wit- 
nesses, or  examples  from  books,  our  author,  with  his  usual 
licence,  uses  to  cite,  in  the  same  sense  of  to  prove.    Malone. 

•  Wish  chastly,  and  love  dearly,  that  your  Dian 
Was  both  herself  and  love ;]  i.  e.  Venus.  Helena  means 
to  say — "  If  ever  you  wished  that  the  deity  who  presides  over 
chastity,  and  the  queen  of  amorous  rites,  were  one  and  the 
same  person ;  or,  in  other  words,  if  ever  you  wished  for  the 
honest  and  lawful  completion  of  your  chaste  desires."  I  believe, 
however,  the  words  were  accidentally  transposed  at  the  press, 
and  would  read— 

Love  dearly,  and  taish  chastly,  that  your  Dian  &c. 

Malone. 

.    •  tell  true."]     This  is  an  evident  interpolation.      It  is 

needless,  because  it  repeats  what  the  Countess  had  already  said : 
it  is  injurious,  because  it  spoils  the  measure.    Steevens. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  251 

As  notes,  whose  faculties  inclusive1  were, 
More  than  they  were  in  note :  amongst  the  rest, 
There  is  a  remedy,  approv'd,  set  down, 
To  cure  the  desperate  languishes,  whereof 
The  king  is  render'd  lost. 

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,  been  absent  then. 

Count.  But  think  you,  Helen, 

If  you  should  tender  your  supposed  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 
A  poor  unlearned  virgin,  when  the  schools, 
Embowell'd  of  their  doctrine,2  have  left  off 
The  danger  to  itself? 

Hel.  There's  something  hints, 

More  than  my  father's  skill,  which  was  the  greatest 
Of  his  profession,  that  his  good  receipt3 

1  notes,  whose  faculties  inclusive — ]     Receipts  in  which 

greater  virtues  were  inclosed  than  appeared  to  observation. 

Johnson. 

*  Embowell'd  of  their  doctrine,']  i.  e.  exhausted  of  their  skill. 
So,  in  the  old  spurious  play  of  K.  John  : 

"  Back  war-men,  back  ;  embowel  not  the  clime." 

Steevens. 
3  There's  something  hints 

More  than  my  father's  skill, 

that  his  good  receipt,  &c]     The  old  copy  reads— 

something  in't.     Steevens. 

Here  is  an  inference,  [that]  without  any  thing  preceding,  to 
which  it  refers,  which  makes  the  sentence  vicious,  and  shows 
that  we  should  read— 


252  ALL'S  WELL  act  i. 

Shall,  for  my  legacy,  be  sanctified 

By  the  luckiest  stars  in  heaven :  and,  would  your 

honour 
But  give  me  leave  to  try  success,  I'd  venture 
The  well-lost  life  of  mine  on  his  grace's  cure, 
By  such  a  day,  and  hour. 

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 
To  those  of  mine  in  court ;  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. 

\Exeunt. 

There's  something  hints 
More  than  my  father's  skilly 
■  that  his  good  receipt- 


i.  e.  I  have  a  secret  premonition,  or  presage.     Warburton. 

This  necessary  correction  was  made  by  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer. 

Malone. 

4  into  thy  attempt:]     So  in  the  old  copy.     We  might 

more  intelligibly  read,  according  to  the  third  folio, — unto  thy 
attempt,    Steevens. 


actii.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  253 

ACT  II.    SCENE  I. 
Paris.    A  Room  in  the  King's  Palace. 

Flourish.  Enter  King,  with  young  Lords  taking 
leave  for  the  Florentine  war ;  Bertram,  Pa- 
rolles,  and  Attendants. 

King.  Farewell,5  young  lord,  these  warlike  prin- 
ciples 

Do  not  throw  from  you: — and  you,  my  lord, 
farewell : 6 — 

Share  the  advice  betwixt  you ;  if  both  gain  all, 

The  gift  doth  stretch  itself  as  'tis  receiv'd, 

And  is  enough  for  both. 

*  Farewell,  &c]  In  all  the  latter  copies  these  lines  stood 
thus : 

Farewell,  young  lords ;  these  warlike  principles 

Do  not  throw  from  you.     You,  my  lords,  farewell ; 

Share  the  advice  betwixt  you;  if  both  again, 

The  gift  doth  stretch  itself  as  'tis  received.  , 

The  third  line  in  that  state  was  unintelligible.     Sir  Thomas 

Hanmer  reads  thus : 

Farewell,  young  lord:  these  warlike  principles 
Do  not  throw  from  you ;  you,  my  lord,  farewell ; 
Share  the  advice  betwixt  you:  If  both  gain,  well ! 
The  gift  doth  stretch  itself  as  'tis  received, 
And  is  enough  for  both. 
The  first  edition,  from  which  the  passage  is  restored,  was 

sufficiently  clear ;  yet  it  is  plain,  that  the  latter  editors  preferred 

&  reading  which  they  did  not  understand.    Johnson. 

*  and  you,  my  lord,  farewell:]     The  old  copy,  both  in 

this  and  the  following  instance,  reads — lords.     Steevens. 

It  does  not  any  where  appear  that  more  than  two  French 
lords  (besides  Bertram)  went  to  serve  in  Italy ;  and  therefore, 
I  think,  the  King's  speech  should  be  corrected  thus :  . 


254  ALL'S  WELL  act  n. 

1  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.7  Farewell,  young  lords  j 
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  j 8  when 

Farewell,  young  lord ;  these  warlike  principles 
Do  not  throw  from  you;  and  you,  my  lord, farewell ; 
what  follows,  shows  this  correction  to  be  necessary : 

Share  the  advice  betwixt  you  ;  if  both  gain  all,  &c. 

Tyrwhitt. 

Tyrwhitt's  emendation  is  clearly  right.  Advice  is  the  only 
thing  that  may  be  shared  between  two,  and  yet  both  gain  all. 

M.  Mason. 

* and  yet  my  heart 

Will  not  confess  he  owes  the  malady 

That  doth  my  life  besiege.]  i.  e.  as  the  common  phrase  runs, 
/  am  still  heart-whole ;  my  spirits,  by  not  sinking  under  my 
distemper,  do  not  acknowledge  its  influence.     Steevens. 
8  _ let  higher  Italy 

( Those  fbated,  that  inherit  but  the  fall 

Of  the  last  monarchy,)  see,  &c]  The  ancient  geographers 
have  divided  Italy  into  the  higher  and  the  lower,  the  Apennine 
hills  being  a  kind  of  natural  line  of  partition ;  the  side  next  the 
Adriatic  was  denominated  the  higher  Italy,  and  the  other  side 
the  lower :  and  the  two  seas  followed  the  same  terms  of  distinc- 
tion, the  Adriatic  being  called  the  upper  Sea,  and  the  Tyrrhene 
or  Tuscan  the  lower.  Now  the  Sennones,  or  Senois,  with  whom 
the  Florentines  are  here  supposed  to  be  at  war,  inhabited  the 
higher  Italy,  their  chief  town  being  Arminium,  now  called 
Rimini,  upon  the  Adriatic.     Hanmer. 

Italy,  at  the  time  of  this  scene,  was  under  three  very  different 
tenures.  The  emperor,  as  successor  of  the  Roman  emperors, 
had  one  part ;  the  pope,  by  a  pretended  donation  from  Con- 
ttantine,  another;  and  the  third  was  composed  of  free  states. 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  255 

The  bravest  questant  shrinks,  find  what  you  seek, 

Now  by  the  last  monarchy  is  meant  the  Roman,  the  last  of  the 
four  general  monarchies.  Upon  the  fall  of  this  monarchy,  in 
the  scramble,  several  cities  set  up  for  themselves,  and  became 
free  states :  now  these  might  be  said  properly  to  inherit  the  Jail 
of  the  monarchy.  This  being  premised,  let  us  now  consider 
sense.  The  King  says  higher  Italy ; — giving  it  the  rank  of  pre- 
ference to  France ;  but  he  corrects  himself,  and  says,  I  except 
those  from  that  precedency,  who  only  inherit  the  fall  of  the  last 
monarchy;  as  all  the  little  petty  states;  for  instance,  Florence, 
to  whom  these  volunteers  were  going.  As  if  he  had  said,  I  give 
the  place  of  honour  to  the  emperor  and  the  pope,  but  not  to  the 
free  states.    Warburton. 

Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads : 

Those  bastards  that  inherit,  &c. 
with  this  note : 

"  Reflecting  upon  the  abject  and  degenerate  condition  of  the 
cities  and  states  which  arose  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire, the  last  of  the  four  great  monarchies  of  the  world." 

Dr.  Warburton's  observation  is  learned,  but  rather  too  subtle ; 
Sir  Thomas  Hammer's  alteration  is  merely  arbitrary.  The 
passage  is  confessedly  obscure,  and  therefore  I  may  offer  another 
explanation.  I  am  of  opinion  that  the  epithet  higher  is  to  be 
understood  of  situation  rather  than  of  dignity.  The  sense  may 
then  be  this :  Let  upper  Italy,  where  you  are  to  exercise  your 
valour,  see  that  you  come  to  gain  honour,  to  the  abatement, 
that  is,  to  the  disgrace  and  depression  of  those  that  have  now 
lost  their  ancient  military  fame,  and  inherit  but  the  fall  of  the 
last  monarchy.  To  abate  is  used  by  Shakspeare  in  the  original 
sense  of  abatre,  to  depress,  to  sink,  to  deject,  to  subdue.  So,  in 
Coriolanus : 

" till  ignorance  deliver  you, 

"  As  most  abated  captives  to  some  nation 

"  That  won  you  without  blows." 
And  bated  is  used  in  a  kindred  sense  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice  : 

" in  a  bondman's  key, 

"  With  bated  breath,  and  whisp'ring  humbleness." 
The  word  has  still  the  same  meaning  in  the  language  of  the 
law.    Johnson. 

In  confirmation  of  Johnson's  opinion,  that  higher  relates  to 
situation,  not  to  dignity,  we  find,  in  the  third  scene  of  the 
fourth  Act,  that  one  of  the  Lords  says :  "  What  will  Count 
Rousillon  do  then?  will  he  travel  higher,  or  return  again  to 
Prance  ?"    M.  Mason. 


256  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

That  fame  may  cry  you  loud:a  I  say,  farewell. 
2  Lord.  Health,  at  your  bidding,  serve  your 
majesty ! 

King.  Those  girls  of  Italy,  take  heed  of  them ; 
They  say,  our  French  lack  language  to  deny, 
If  they  demand :  beware  of  being  captives, 
Before  you  serve.1 

Both,  Our  hearts  receive  your  warnings. 

King.  Farewell. — Come  hither  to  me. 

[The  King  retires  to  a  couch. 

1  Lord.  O  my  sweet  lord,  that  you  will  stay  be- 

hind us ! 

Par.  'Tis  not  his  fault ;  the  spark — — 

2  Lord.  O,  '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  it,  boy,  steal  away 
bravely. 

Ber.  I  shall  stay  here  the  forehorse  to  a  smock, 


Those  ybated  may  here  signify  "  those  being  taken  away  or 
excepted?1  Bate,  thus  contracted,  is  in  colloquial  language  still 
used  with  this  meaning.  This  parenthetical  sentence  implies 
no  more  than  they  excepted  who  possess  modern  Italy,  the  remains 
of  the  Roman  empire.    Holt  White. 

9  That  fame  may  cry  you  loud:']  So,  in  Troilus  and 
Cressida : 

" fame  with  her  loud'st  O  yes, 

"  Cries,  This  is  he."     Steevens. 

beware  of  being  captives, 


Before  you  serve.]  The  word  serve  is  equivocal ;  the  sense 
is,  Be  not  captives  before  you  serve  in  the  war.  Be  not  captives 
before  you  are  soldiers.    Johnson. 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  257 

Creaking  my  shoes  on  the  plain  masonry, 
Till  honour  be  bought  up,  and  no  sword  worn, 
But  one  to  dance  with  !2  By  heaven,  I'll  steal  away. 

1  Lord.  There's  honour  in  the  theft.3 

Par.  Commit  it,  count. 

2  Lord.  I  am  your  accessary ;  and  so  farewell. 

Ber.  I  grow  to  you,  and  our  parting  is  a  tor- 
tured body.4 

1  Lord.  Farewell,  captain. 

2  Lord.  Sweet  monsieur  Parolles ! 

*  and  no  sword  worn, 

But  one  to  dance  with  /]  It  should  be  remembered  that, 
in  Shakspeare's  time,  it  was  usual  for  gentlemen  to  dance  with 
swords  on.  Our  author,  who  gave  to  all  countries  the  manners 
of  his  own,  has  again  alluded  to  this  ancient  custom  in  Antony 
and  Cleopatra,  Act  III.  sc,  ix : 

" He,  at  Philippi  kept 

"  His  sword,  even  like  a  dancer*'' 
See  Mr.  Steevens's  note  there.    Ma  lone. 

I'll  steal  away- 


There's  honour  in  the  theft.']     So,  in  Macbeth  : 
"  There's  warrant  in  that  theft, 
"  Which  steals  itself ."     Steevens. 

4  I  grow  to  you,  and  our  parting  is  a  tortured  body.]  I  read 
thus — Our  parting  is  the  parting  of  a  tortured  body.  Our 
parting  is  as  the  disruption  of  limbs  torn  from  each  other.  Re- 
petition of  a  word  is  often  the  cause  of  mistakes :  the  eye  glances 
on  the  wrong  word,  and  the  intermediate  part  of  the  sentence 
is  omitted.    Johnson. 

So,  in  K.  Henry  VIII.  Act  II.  sc.  iii: 

" it  is  a  sufferance,  panging 

"  As  soul  and  body's  severing."     Steevens. 

As  they  grow  together,  the  tearing  them  asunder  was  tortur- 
ing a  body.  Johnson's  amendment  is  unnecessary.  M.  Mason. 

We  two  growing  together,  and  having,  as  it  were,  but  one 
body,  ("like  to  a  double  cherry,  seeming  parted," )  our  part- 
ing is  a  tortured  body ;  i.  e.  cannot  be  effected  but  by  a  disrup- 
tion of  limbs  which  are  now  common  to  both.    Malone. 

VOL.  VIII.       '  S 


258  ALL'S  WELL  act  n. 

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,5  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. 

2  Lord.  We  shall,  noble  captain. 

Par.  Mars  dote  on  you  for  his  novices!  [Exeunt 
Lords.]  What  will  you  do  ? 

Ber.  Stay ;  the  king- [Seeing  him  rise. 

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;6 

*  with  his  cicatrice,']  The  old  copy  reads — his  cicatrice 

with.     Steevens. 

It  is  surprizing,  none  of  the  editors  could  see  that  a  slight 
transposition  was  absolutely  necessary  here,  when  there  is  not 
common  sense  in  the  passage,  as  it  stands  without  such  trans- 
position. Parolles  only  means,  "  You  shall  find  one  captain 
Spurio  in  the  camp,  with  a  scar  on  his  left  cheek,  a  mark  of 
war  that  my  sword  gave  him."     Theobald. 

6  they  wear  themselves  in  the  cap  of  the  time,  there,  do 

muster  true  gait,  &c]  The  main  obscurity  of  this  passage  arises 
from  the  mistake  of  a  single  letter.  We  should  read,  instead 
of  do  muster,  to  muster.  To  voear  themselves  in  the  cap  of  the 
time,  signifies  to  be  the  foremost  in  the  fashion  :  the  figurative 
allusion  is  to  the  gallantry  then  in  vogue,  of  wearing  jewels, 
flowers,  and  their  mistress's  favours  in  their  caps. — There 
to  muster  true  gait,  signifies  to  assemble  together  in  the  high 
road  of  the  fashion.     All  the  rest  is  intelligible  and  easy. 

Warburton. 

I  think  this  emendation  cannot  be  said  to  give  much  light  to 
the  obscurity  of  the  passage.  Perhaps  it  might  be  read  thus: — 
They  do  muster  with  the  true  gait,  that  is,  they  have  the  true 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  259 

and  though  the  devil  lead  the  measure,7  such  are 
to  be  followed  :  after  them,  and  take  a  more  di- 
lated farewell. 

Ber.  And  I  will  do  so. 

Par.  Worthy  fellows ;  and  like  to  prove  most 
sinewy  sword-men. 

\_Exeunt  Bertram  and  Parolles. 

Enter  Lafeu. 

Laf.  Pardon,  my  lord,  [Kneeling."]  for  me  and 
for  my  tidings. 


military  step.    Every  man  has  observed  something  peculiar  in 
the  strut  of  a  soldier.    Johnson. 

Perhaps  we  should  read — master  true  gait.  To  master  any 
thing,  is  to  learn  it  perfectly.     So,  in  King  Henri/  IV.  P.  1 : 

"  As  if  he  mastered  there  a  double  spirit 

"  Of  teaching  and  of  learning  — — ." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  V  : 

"  Between  the  promise  of  his  greener  days, 

"  And  those  he  masters  now." 
In  this  last  instance,  however,  both  the  quartos,  viz.  1600  and 
1608,  read  musters.     Steevens. 

The  obscurity  of  the  passage  arises  only  from  the  fantastical 
language  of  a  character  like  Parolles,  whose  affectation  of  wit 
urges  his  imagination  from  one  allusion  to  another,  without 
allowing  time  for  his  judgment  to  determine  their  congruity. 
The  cap  of  time  being  the  first  image  that  occurs,  true  gaity 
manner  ot  eating,  speaking,  &c.  are  the  several  ornaments 
which  they  muster,  place,  or  arrange  in  time's  cap.  This  is 
done  under  the  influence  of  the  most  received  star  ;  that  is,  the 
person  in  the  highest  repute  for  setting  the  fashions : — and  \ 
though  the  devil  were  to  lead  the  measure  or  dance  of  fashion, 
such  is  their  implicit  submission,  that  even  he  must  be  followed. 

Henley. 

7  — —  lead  the  measure,]  i.  e.  the  dance.  So,  in  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing,  Beatrice  says :  "  Tell  him  there  is  measure  in 
every  thing,  and  so  dance  out  the  answer."    Steevkns. 

S  2 


260  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

King,  I'll  fee  thee  to  stand  up. 

Laf.  Then  here's  a  man 

Stands,  that  has  brought 8  his  pardon.   I  would,  you 
Had  kneePd,  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,  Goodfaith,  across:9 

But,  my  good  lord,  'tis  thus;  Will  you  be  cur'd 
Of  your  infirmity  ? 

King,  No. 

Laf.  O,  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,2 


■  —  brought  — ]  Some  modern  editions  read — bought. 

Malone. 

9  across .•]  This  word,  as  has  been  already  observed,  is 

used  when  any  pass  of  wit  miscarries.    Johnson. 

While  chivalry  was  in  vogue,  breaking  spears  against  a  quin- 
tain was  a  favourite  exercise.  He  who  shivered  the  greatest 
number  was  esteemed  the  most  adroit ;  but  then  it  was  to  be 
performed  exactly  with  the  point,  for  if  achieved  by  a  side- 
stroke,  or  across,  it  showed  unskilfulness,  and  disgraced  the 
practiser.  Here,  therefore,  Lafeu  reflects  on  the  King's  wit, 
as  aukward  and  ineffectual,  and,  in  the  terms  of  play,  good  for 
nothing.    Holt  White. 

See  As  you  like  it,  Act  III.  sc.  iv.  p.  124.     Steevens. 

1  yes,  but  you  tvill, 

My  noble  grapes,  &c]  The  words — My  noble  grapes,  seem 
to  Dr.  Warburton  and  Sir  T.  Hanmer  to  stand  so  much  in  the 
way,  that  they  have  silently  omitted  them.  They  may  be,  in- 
deed, rejected  without  great  loss,  but  I  believe  they  are  Shak- 
speare's  words.  You  trill  eat,  says  Lafeu,  no  grapes.  Yts, 
but  you  ivill  eat  such  noble  grapes,  as  I  bring  you,  if  you  could 
reach  them.    Johnson. 


medicine,}  is  here  put  for  a  she-physician.    Hanmer. 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  261 

That's  able  to  breathe  life  into  a  stone ; 
Quicken  a  rock,  and  make  you  dance  canary,3 
With  spritely  fire  and  motion;  whose  simple  touch* 
Is  powerful  to  araise  king  Pepin,  nay, 
To  give  great  Charlemain  a  pen  in  his  hand, 
And  write5  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,6 
Wisdom,  and  constancy,  hath  amaz'd  me  more 
Than  I  dare  blame  my  weakness : 7  Will  you  see  her 

*  and  make  you  dance  canary,]  Mr.  Rich.  Brome,  in 

his  comedy,  entitled,  The  City  Wit,  or  the  Woman  wears  the 
Breeches,  Act  IV.  sc.  i.  mentions  this  among  other  dances : 
"  As  for  corantoes,  lavoltos,  jigs,  measures,  pavins,  brawls, 
galliards,  or  canaries  ;  I  speak  it  not  swellingly,  but  I  subscribe 
to  no  man."     Dr.  Grey. 

*  whose  simple  touch  &c]     Thus,    Ovid,    Amor.  III. 

vii.  41  : 

Illius  ad  tactum  Pyliusjuvenescerepossit, 
Tithonosque  annis  fortior  esse  suis.     Steevens. 

*  And  write  — ]  I  believe  a  line  preceding  this  has  been  lost. 

Malone. 

6  her  years,  profession,]  By  profession  is  meant  her  de- 
claration of  the  end  and  purpose  of  her  coming.  Warburto:n. 

7  Than  I  dare  blame  my  weakness .-]  This  is  one  of  Shak- 
speare's  perplexed  expressions.  "  To  acknowledge  how  much 
she  has  astonished  me,  would  be  to  acknowledge  a  weakness ;. 
and  this  I  am  unwilling  to  do."     Steevens. 

Lafeu's  meaning  appears  to  me  to  be  this : — "  That  the% 
amazement  she  excited  in  him  was  so  great,  that  he  could  not 
impute  it  merely  to  his  own  weakness,  but  to  the  wonderful 
qualities  of  the  object  that  occasioned  it."     M.  Mason. 


262  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

(For  that  is  her  demand,)  and  know  her  business  ? 
That  done,  laugh  well  at  me. 

King,    •  Now,  good  Lafeu, 

Bring  in  the  admiration  ;  that  we  with  thee 
May  spend  our  wonder  too,  or  take  off  thine, 
By  wond'ring  how  thou  took'st  it. 
.  Laf.  Nay,  I'll  fit  you, 

And  not  be  all  day  neither.  [Exit  Lafeu. 

King,  Thus  he  his  special  nothing  ever  pro- 
logues.8 

Re-enter  Lafeu,  'with  Helena. 

Laf.  Nay,  come  your  ways. 

King.  This  haste  hath  wings  indeed. 

Laf.  Nay,  come  your  ways;9 
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,1 
That  dare  leave  two  together ;  fare  you  well. 

{Exit. 

King.  Now,  fair  one,  does  your  business  fol- 
low us  ? 

Hel.  Ay,  my  good  lord.  Gerard  de  Narbon  was 
My  father;  in  what  he  did  profess,  well  found.2 

King.  I  knew  him. 

•  Thus  he  his  special  nothing  ever  prologues.]  So,  in  Othello : 
"  'Tis  evermore  the  prologue  to  his  sleep."     Steevens. 

9 come  your  ways  ;]  This  vulgarism  is  also  put  into  the 

mouth  of  Polonius.     See  Hamlet,  Act  I.  sc.  iii.     Steevens. 

1  Cressid's  uncle,']  I  am  like  Pandarus.  See  Troilus  and 

Cressida.    Johnson. 

* well  found."]  i.  e.  of  known,  acknowledged,  excellence. 

Steevens. 


sc.  L  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  263 

Hel.  The  rather  will  I  spare  my  praises  towards 
him ; 
Knowing  him,  is  enough.     On  his  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  bad  me  store  up,  as  a  triple  eye,3 
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,4 
I  come  to  tender  it,  and  my  appliance, 
With  all  bound  hunibleness. 

King.  We  thank  you,  maiden ; 

But  may  not  be  so  credulous  of  cure, — 
When  our  most  learned  doctors  leave  us ;  and 
The  congregated  college  have  concluded 
That  labouring  art  can  never  ransome  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  empiricks ;  or  to  dissever  so 
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 : 
I  will  no  more  enforce  mine  office  on  you  $ 

3 a  triple  eye,]  i.  e.  a  third  eye.     So,  in  Antony  and 

Cleopatra ;  ...  .. 

"  The  triple  pillar  of  the  world,. transform'd 
"  Into  a  strumpet's  fool."     Steevens. 

4 "wherein  the  honour 


Of  my  dear  father's  gift  stands  chief  in  power,"]  Perhaps  we 
may  better  read : 

wherein  the  power 

Of  my  dear  father's  gift  stands  chief  in  honour. 

Johnsox. 


264  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

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  j 
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.' 

*  So  holy  writ  in  babes  hath  judgment  shown, 
When  judges  have  been  babes."]  The  allusion  is  to  St. 
Matthews  Gospel,  xi.  25 :  "  O  father,  lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
I  thank  thee,  because  thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise 
and  prudent y  and  revealed  them  unto  babes.1*  See  also  1  Cor. 
i.  27 :  "  But  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of  the  world  to 
confound  the  wise  ;  and  God  hath  chosen  the  weak  things  of 
the  world,  to  confound  the  things  which  are  mighty." 

Malone. 

6  When  miracles  have  by  the  greatest  been  denied.]  I  do  not 
see  the  import  or  connection  of  this  line.  As  the  next  line 
stands  without  a  correspondent  rhyme,  I  suspect  that  something 
has  been  lost.     Johnson. 

I  point  the  passage  thus ;  and  then  I  see  no  reason  to  com- 
plain of  want  of  connection : 

When  judges  have  been  babes.     Great  foods,  fyc. 
When  miracles  have  by  the  greatest  been  denied.  i 

Shakspeare,  after  alluding  to  the  production  of  water  from  a 
yftck,  and  the  drying  up  of  the  Red  Sea,  says,  that  miracles  had 
fieen  denied  by  the  Greatest  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  the 


se.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  265 

Oft  expectation  fails,  and  most  oft  there 
Where  most  it  promises ;  and  oft  it  hits, 
Where  hope  is  coldest,  and  despair  most  sits.7 

King.  I  must  not  hear  thee ;  fare  thee  well,  kind 
maid ; 
Thy  pains,  not  us'd,  must  by  thyself  be  paid: 
rroffers,  not  took,  reap  thanks  for  their  reward. 

Hel.  Inspired  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;8 
But  know  I  think,  and  think  I  know  most  sure, 
My  art  is  not  past  power,  nor  you  past  cure. 


Elders  of  Israel  (who  just  before,  in  reference  to  another 
text,  were  styled  judges)  had,  notwithstanding  these  miracles, 
wrought  for  their  own  preservation,  refused  that  compliance  they 
ought  to  have  yielded.  See  the  Book  of  Exodus,  particularly 
ch.  xvii.  5,  6,  &c.     Henley. 

So  holy  torit,  &c.  alludes  to  Daniel's  judging,  when,  "a  young 
youth,"  the  two  Elders  in  the  story  of  Susannah.  Great  Jloods, 
i.  e.  when  Moses  smote  the  rock  in  Horeb,  Exod.  xvii. 

great  seas  have  dried 

When  miracles  have  by  the  greatest  been  denied.  -, 

Dr.  Johnson  did  not  see  the  import  or  connection  of  this  line.  It 
certainly  refers  to  the  children  of  Israel  passing  the  Red  Sea, 
when  miracles  had  been  denied,  or  not  hearkened  to,  by  Pha- 
raoh.    Holt  White. 

and  despair  most  sits.]    The  old  copy  reads — shifts. 


The  correction  was  made  by  Mr.  Pope.    Malone. 

•  Myself  against  the  level  of  mine  aim ;]    i.  e.   pretend  to 
greater  things  than  befits  the  mediocrity  of  my  condition. 

Warburton. 


266  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

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 
Their  fiery  torcher  his  diurnal  ring ; 
Ere  twice  in  murk  and  occidental  damp 
Moist  Hesperus  hath  quench'd  his  sleepy  lamp  j ' 
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  strumpet's  boldness,  a  divulged  shame, — 
Traduc'd  by  odious  ballads  j  my  maiden's  name 
Sear'd  otherwise ;  no  worse  of  worst  extended, 
With  vilest  torture  let  my  life  be  ended.2 


r  I  rather  think  that  she  means  to  say, — /  am  not  an  impostor 
that  proclaim  one  thing  and  design  another,  that  proclaim  a  cure 
and  aim  at  a  fraud;  I  think  what  I  speak.    Johnson. 

9  The  greatest  grace  lending  grace,]  I  should  have  thought 
the  repetition  of  grace  to  have  been  superfluous,  if  the  grace  of 
grace  had  not  occurred  in  the  speech  with  which  the  tragedy  of 
Macbeth  concludes.     Steevens. 

The  former  grace  in  this  passage,  and  the  latter  in  Macbeth, 
evidently  signify  divine  grace.     Henley. 

1 his  sleepy  lamp;]  Old  copy — her  sleepy  lamp.  Cor- 
rected by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 


■  a  divulged  shame, — 


Traduc'd  by  odious  ballads  ;  my  maiden's  name 

Sear*d  otherwise  ;  no  worse  of  worst  extended, 

With   vilest   torture   let   my  life  be  ended.]     I  would  bear 

(says  she)  the  tax  of  impudence,  which  is  the  denotement  of  a 

strumpet ;  would  endure  a  shame  resulting  from  my  failure  in 

what  I  have  undertaken,  and  thence  become  the  subject  of  odious 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  267 

King.  Methinks,  in  thee  some  blessed  spirit 
doth  speak  j 
His  powerful  sound,  within  an  organ  weak  :3 


ballads ;  let  my  maiden  reputation  be  otherwise  branded;  and, 
no  worse  of  worst  extended,  i.  e.  provided  nothing  worse  is 
offered  to  me,  (meaning  violation,)  let  my  life  be  ended  with  the 
worst  of  tortures.  The  poet,  for  the  sake  of  rhyme,  has  ob- 
scured the  sense  of  the  passage.  The  voorst  that  can  befal  a 
•woman,  being  extended  to  me,  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  the 
last  line.     Steevens. 

Tax  of  impudence,  that  is,  to  be  charged  with  having  the 
boldness  of  a  strumpet : — a  divulged'  shame ;  i.  e.  to  be  traduced 
by  odious  ballads : — my  maiden  name's  seared  otherwise  ;  i.  e. 
to  be  stigmatized  as  a  prostitute: — no  worse  of  voorst  extended  ; 
i.  e.  to  be  so  defamed  that  nothing  severer  can  be  said  against 
those  who  are  most  publickly  reported  to  be  infamous.  Shak- 
speare  has  used  the  word  sear  and  extended  in  The  Winter's 
Tale,  both  in  the  same  sense  as  above: 

" for  calumny  will  sear 

"  Virtue  itself!" 

And  "  The  report  of  her  is  extended  more  than  can  be  thought." 

Henley. 

The  old  copy  reads,  not  no,  but  ne,  probably  an  error  for 
nay,  or  the.  I  would  wish  to  read  and  point  the  latter  part  of 
the  passage  thus : 

my  maiden's  name 

Sear'd  otherwise  ;  nay,  worst  of  worst,  extended 
With  vilest  torture,  let  my  life  be  ended. 
i.  e.  Let  me  be  otherwise  branded ; — and  (what  is  the  worst  of 
worst,  the  consummation  of  misery, )  my  body  being  extended 
on  the  rack  by  the  most  cruel  torture,  let  my  life  pay  the  for- 
feit of  my  presumption. 

So,  in  Daniel's  Cleopatra,  1594  : 

" the  worst  of  worst  of  ills." 

No  was  introduced  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 
Again,  in  The  Remedie  of  Love,  Ho.  1600: 
"  If  she  be  fat,  then  she  is  swollen,  say, 
"  If  browne,  then  tawny  as  the  Africk  Moore ; 
"  If  slender,  leane,  meagre  and  worne  away, 
"  If  courtly,  wanton,  worst  of  worst  before." 

Maloxe. 


268  ALL'S  WELL  act  11. 

And  what  impossibility  would  slay 
In  common  sense,  sense  saves  another  way.4 
Thy  life  is  dear ;  for  all,  that  life  can  rate 
Worth  name  of  life,  in  thee  hath  estimate  ;5 
Youth,  beauty,  wisdom,  courage,  virtue,  all6 
That  happiness  and  prime7  can  happy  call: 

3  Methinks,  in  thee  some  blessed  spirit  doth  speak  ; 

His  powerful  sound,  within  an  organ  weak:]  The  verb, 
doth  speak,  in  the  first  line,  should  be  understood  to  be  re- 
peated in  the  construction  of  the  second,  thus: 

His  powerful  sound  speaks  within  a  weak  organ. 

Heath. 

This,  in  my  opinion,  is  a  very  just  and  happy  explanation. 

Steevens. 

4  And  what  impossibility  would  slay 

In  common  sense,  sense  saves  another  way."]  i.  e.  and  that 
which,  if  I  trusted  to  my  reason,  I  should  think  impossible,  I 
yet,  perceiving  thee  to  be  actuated  by  some  blessed  spirit, 
think  thee  capable  of  effecting.     Malone. 

*  in  thee  hath  estimate ;]  May  be  counted  among  the 

gifts  enjoyed  by  thee.    Johnson. 

•  Youth,  beauty,  wisdom,  courage,  virtue,  all — ]  The  old 
copy  omits  virtue.  It  was  supplied  by  Dr.  Warburton,  to  re- 
medy a  defect  in  the  measure.     Steevens. 

7  -i prime  — ]  Youth  ;  the  spring  or  morning  of  life. 

Johnson. 

Should  we  not  read— pride  ?  Dr.  Johnson  explains  prime  to 
mean  youth;  and  indeed!  do  not  see  any  other  plausible  inter- 
pretation that  can  be  given  of  it.  But  how  does  that  suit  with 
the  context  ?  "  You  have  all  that  is  worth  the  name  of  life  ; 
youth,  beauty,  &c.  all,  That  happiness  and  youth  can  happy 
call." — Happiness  and  pride  may  signify,  I  think,  the  pride  of 
happiness  ;  the  proudest  state  of  happiness.  So,  in  The  Second 
Part  of  Henry  IV.  Act  III.  sc.  i.  the  voice  and  echo,  is  put  for 
the  voice  of  echo,  or,  the  echoing  voice.     Tyrwhitt. 

I  think,  with  Dr.  Johnson,  that  prime  is  here  used  as  a  sub- 
stantive, but  that  it  means,  that  sprightly  vigour  which  usually 
accompanies  us  in  the  prime  of  life.  So,  in  Montaigne's  Essaies, 
translated  by  Florio,  1603,  B.  II.  c.  6  :  "  Many  things  seeme 
greater  by  imagination,  than  by  effect.  I  have  passed  over 
a  good  part  of  my  age  in  sound  and  perfect  health.    I  say,  not 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  269 

Thou  this  to  hazard,  needs  must  intimate 
Skill  infinite,  or  monstrous  desperate. 
Sweet  practiser,  thy  physick  I  will  try; 
That  ministers  thine  own  death,  if  I  die. 

Hel.  If  I  break  time,  or  flinch  in  property8 
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.9 

Hel.  Then  shalt  thou  give  me,  with  thy  kingly 
hand, 
What  husband  in  thy  power  I  will  command : 
Exempted  be  from  me  the  arrogance 
To  choose  from  forth  the  royal  blood  of  France; 

only  sound,  but  blithe  and  wantonly-lustful.  That  state,  full  of 
lust,  of  prime  and  mirth,  made  me  deeme  the  consideration  of 
sicknesses  so  yrksome,  that  when  I  came  to  the  experience  of 
them,  I  have  found  their  fits  but  weak."     Malone. 

8  in  property — ]     In  property  seems  to  be  here  used, 

with  much  laxity,  for — in  the  due  performance.  In  a  subse- 
quent passage  it  seems  to  mean  either  a  thing  possessed,  or  a 
subject  discriminated  by  peculiar  qualities : 

"  The  property  by  what  it  is  should  go, 

u  Not  by  the  title."     Malone. 

•  9  Ayy  by  my  sceptrey  and  my  hopes  of  heaven.]    The  old  copy 
reads : 

my  hopes  of  help.     Steevens. 

The  King  could  have  but  a  very  slight  hope  of  help  from  her, 
scarce  enough  to  swear  by  :  and  therefore  Helen  might  suspect 
he  meant  to  equivocate  with  her.  Besides,  observe,  the  greatest 
part  of  the  scene  is  strictly  in  rhyme:  and  there  is  no  shadow 
of  reason  why  it  should  be  interrupted  here.  I  rather  imagine 
the  poet  wrote : 

Ayt  by  my  sceptret  and  my  hopes  of  heaven.     Thirlby. 


270  ALL'S  WELL  act  it 

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  resolv'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. — 
Give  me  some  help  here,  ho! — If  thou  proceed 
As  high  as  word,  my  deed  shall  match  thy  deed. 

[Flourish.    Exeunt. 

1  With  any  branch  or  image  of  thy  state  .•]  Shakspeare  un- 
questionably wrote  impage,  grafting.  Impe,  a  graft",  or  slip,  or 
sucker  :  by  which  she  means  one  of  the  sons  of  France.  Cax- 
ton  calls  our  Prince  Arthur,  that  noble  impe  of  fame. 

Warburton. 

Image  is  surely  the  true  reading,  and  may  mean  any  repre- 
sentative of  thine ;  i.  e.  any  one  who  resembles  you  as  being  re- 
lated to  your  family,  or  as  a  prince  reflects  any  part  of  your 
state  and  majesty.  There  is  no  such  word  as  impage;  and,  as 
Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  were  such  a  one  coined,  it  would  mean 
nothing  but  the  art  of  grafting.  Mr.  Henley  adds,  that  branch' 
refers  to  the  collateral  descendants  of  the  royal  blood,  and 
image  to  the  direct  and  immediate  line.     Steevens. 

Our  author  again  uses  the  word  image  in  the  same  sense  as 
here,  in  his  Rape  ofhucrece: 

"  O,  from  thy  cheeks  my  image  thou  hast  torn." 

Malone. 


sc.  ii.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  271 

SCENE  II. 

Rousillon.    A  Boom  in  the  Countess's  Palace. 

Enter  Countess  and  Clown. 

Count.  Come  on,  sir;  I  shall  now  put  you  to 
the  height  of  your  breeding. 

Clo.  I  will  show  myself  highly  fed,  and  lowly 
taught:  I  know  my  business  is  but  to  the  court. 

Count.  To  the  court!  why,  what  place  make 
you  special,  when  you  put  off  that  with  such  con- 
tempt? But  to  the  court! 

Clo.  Truly,  madam,  if  God  have  lent  a  man 
any  manners,  he  may  easily  put  it  off  at  court:  he 
that  cannot  make  a  leg,  put  ofTs  cap,  kiss  his 
hand,  and  say  nothing,  has  neither  leg,  hands, 
lip,  nor  cap;  and,  indeed,  such  a  fellow,  to  say 
precisely,  were  not  for  the  court:  but,  for  me,  I 
have  an  answer  will  serve  all  men. 

Count.  Marry,  that's  a  bountiful  answer,  that 
fits  all  questions. 

Clo.  It  is  like  a  barber's  chair,  that  fits  all  but- 
tocks;2 the  pin-buttock,  the  quatch-buttock,  the 
brawn-buttock,  or  any  buttock. 

*  It  is  like  a  barber's  chair,  8$c.~\  This  expression  is  prover- 
bial. See  Ray's  Proverbs,  and  Burton's  Anat.  of  Melancholy, 
edit.  1632,  p.  666. 

Again,  in  More  Fools  Yet,  by  R.  S.  a  collection  of  Epigrams, 
4to.l610: 

"  Moreover  sattin  sutes  he  doth  compare 

"  Unto  the  service  of  a  barber's  chayre; 

"  As  fit  for  every  Jacke  and  journeyman, 

"  As  for  a  knight  or  worthy  gentleman."     Steevens. 


272  ALL'S  WELL  act  n. 

Count.  Will  your  answer  serve  fit  to  all  ques- 
tions ? 

Clo.  As  fit  as  ten  groats  is  for  the  hand  of  an 
attorney,  as  your  French  crown  for  your  taffata 
punk,  as  Tib's  rush  for  Tom's  fore-finger,3  as  a 

*  Tib's  rush  for  Tom's  fore-finger,]   Tom  is  the  man, 

and  by  Tib  we  are  to  understand  the  woman,  and  therefore, 
more  properly,  we  might  read — Tom's  rush  for,  &c.  The  allu- 
sion is  to  an  ancient  practice  of  marrying  with  a  rush  ring,  as 
well  in  other  countries  as  in  England.  Breval,  in  his  Antiquities 
of  Paris,  mentions  it  as  a  kind  of  espousal  used  in  France,  by 
such  persons  as  meant  to  live  together  in  a  state  of  concubinage : 
but  in  England  it  was  scarce  ever  practised  except  by  designing 
men,  for  the  purpose  of  corrupting  those  young  women  to  whom 
they  pretended  love. 

Richard  Poore,  bishop  of  Salisbury,  in  his  Constitutions, 
anni,  1217,  forbids  the  putting  of  rusk  rings,  or  any  the  like 
matter,  on  women's  fingers,  in  order  to  the  debauching  them 
more  readily:  and  he  insinuates,  as  the  reason  for  the  prohibi- 
tion, that  there  were  some  people  weak  enough  to  believe,  that 
what  was  thus  done  in  jest,  was  a  real  marriage. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  censure  on  it,  the  practice  was  not 
abolished ;  for  it  is  alluded  to  in  a  song  in  a  play  written  by  Sir 
William  D'Avenant,  called  The  Rivals: 

u  I'll  crown  thee  with  a  garland  of  straw  then, 
"  And  I'll  marry  thee  with  a  rush  ring." 
which  song,  by  the  way,  was  first  sung  by  Miss  Davis;  she 
acted  the  part  of  Celania  in  the  play;  and  King  Charles  II.  upon 
hearing  it,  was  so  pleased  with  her  voice  and  action,  that  he 
took  her  from  the  stage,  and  made  her  his  mistress. 

Again,    in  the   song   called    The    Winchester    Wedding,   in 
D'Urfey's  Pills  to  purge  Melancholy,  Vol.  I.  p.  276: 
"  Pert  Strephon  was  kind  to  Betty, 

"  And  blithe  as  a  bird  in  the  spring ; 
"  And  Tommy  was  so  to  Katy, 

"  And  wedded  her  with  a  rush  ring.'* 

Sir  J.  Hawkins. 

Tib  and  Tom,  in  plain  English,  I  believe,  stand  for  wanton 
and  rogue.     So,  in  Churchyard's  Choise  : 

"  Tushe,  that's  a  toye;  let  Tomkin  talke  of  Tibb." 
Again,  in  the   Queenes  Majesties  Entertainment  in  Suffolk  and 
Norfolk,  &c.  by  Tho.  Churchyard,  4to.  no  date: 


k.  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  273 

pancake  for  Shrove-tuesday,  a  morris  for  May-day, 
as  the  nail  to  his  hole,  the  cuckold  to  his  horn,  as 
a  scolding  quean  to  a  wrangling  knave,  as  the 
nun's  lip  to  the  friar's  mouth;  nay,  as  the  pudding 
to  his.  skin. 


Cupid,  i   \ 
"  And  doth  not  Jove  and  Mars  bear  sway  ?     Tush,  that 
is  true." 

Philosopher. 
"  Then  put  in  Tom  and  Tibbe,  and  all  bears  swaj'  as 
much  as  you."     Steevens. 

An  anonymous  writer,  [Mr.  Ritson,]  with  some  probability, 
supposes  that  this  is  one  of  those  covert  allusions  in  which  Shak- 
speare  frequently  indulges  himself.  The  following  lines  of 
Cleiveland  on  an  Hermaphrodite  seem  to  countenance  the  sup- 
position : 

'*  Nay,  those  which  modesty  can  mean, 

**  But  dare  not  speak,  are  Epicene. 

"  That  gamester  needs  must  overcome, 

"  That  can  play  both  with  Tib  and  Tom." 
Sir  John  Hawkins  would  read — "  as  Tom's  rush  for  Tib's 
fore-finger."     But  if  this  were  the  author's  meaning,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  alter  still  farther,  and  to  read — As  Tom1s  rush 
for  Tib'sjburth  finger.     Malone. 

At  the  game  of  Gleek,  the  ace  was  called  Tib,  and  the  knave 
Tom  ;  and  this  is  the  proper  explanation  of  the  lines  cited  from 
Cleiveland.  The  practice  of  marrying  with  a  rush  ring,  men- 
tioned by  Sir  John  Hawkins,  is  very  questionable,  and  it  might 
be  difficult  to  find  any  authority  in  support  of  this  opinion. 

Douce. 

Sir  John  Hawkins's  alteration  is  unnecessary.  It  was  the 
practice,  in  former  times,  for  the  woman  to  give  the  man  a  ring, 
as  well  as  for  the  man  to  give  her  one.  So,  in  the  last  scene  of 
Twelfth- Night,  the  priest,  giving  an  account  of  Olivia's  mar- 
riage, says,  it  was 

"  Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 

"  Strengthen'd  by  enterchangement  of  your  rings.1* 

M.  Mason. 

I  believe  what  some  of  us  have  asserted  respecting  the  ex- 
change of  rings  in  the  marriage  ceremony,  is  only  true  of  the 
marriage  contract,  in  which  such  a  practice  undoubtedly  pre- 
vailed.    Steevens. 

VOL.  VIII.  T 


274  7  ALL'S  WELL  act.it. 

Count,  Have  you,  I  say,  an  answer  of  such  fit- 
ness for  all  questions  ? 

Clo.  From  below  your  duke,  to  beneath  your 
constable,  it  will  fit  any  question. 

Count.  It  must  be  an  answer  of  most  monstrous 
size,  that  must  fit  all  demands. 

Clo.  But  a  trifle  neither,  in  good  faith,  if  the 
learned  should  speak  truth  of  it :  here  it  is,  and 
all  that  belongs  to't:  Ask  me,  if  I  am  a  courtier; 
it  shall  do  you  no  harm  to  learn. 

Count.  To  be  young  again,3  if  we  could :  I  will 
be  a  fool  in  question,  hoping  to  be  the  wiser  by 
your  answer.     I  pray  you,  sir,  are  you  a  courtier  ? 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir,4 — — There's  a  simple  putting 
off; — more,  more,  a  hundred  of  them. 

Count.  Sir,  I  am  a  poor  friend  of  yours,  that 
loves  you. 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir, — Thick,  thick,  spare  not  me. 

Count.  I  think,  sir,  you  can  eat  none  of  this 
homely  meat. 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir, — Nay,  put  me  to't,  I  warrant 
you. 

Count.  You  were  lately  whipped,  sir,  as  I  think. 

3  To  be  young  again,]  The  lady  censures  her  own  levity  in 
trifling  with  her  jester,  as  a  ridiculous  attempt  to  return  back  to 
youth.    Johnson. 

4  0  Lord,  sir,]  A  ridicule  on  that  foolish  expletive  of  speech 
then  in  vogue  at  court.     Warburton. 

Thus  Clove  and  Orange,  in  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour  : 

"  You  conceive  me,  sir? 0  Lord,  sir!" 

Cleiveland,  in  one  of  his  songs,  makes  his  Gentleman — 

"  Answer,  O  Lord,  sir  !  and  talk  play-book  oaths." 

Farmer. 


sc.  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  275 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir, — Spare  not  me. 

Count.  Do  you  cry,  O  Lord,  sir,  at  your  whip- 
ping, and  spare  not  me  ?  Indeed,  your  0  Lord,  sir, 
is  very  sequent  to  your  whipping;  you  would  an- 
swer very  well  to  a  whipping,  if  you  were  but 
bound  to't. 

Clo.  I  ne'er  had  worse  luck  in  my  life,  in  my — 
O  Lord+  sir:  I  see,  things  may  serve  long,  but 
not  serve  ever. 

Count.  I  play  the  noble  housewife  with  the  time, 
to  entertain  it  so  merrily  with  a  fool. 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir, — Why,  there't  serves  well 

again. 
Count.  An  end,  sir,  to  your  business:  Give 
Helen  this, 
And  urge  her  to  a  present  answer  back : 
Commend  me  to  my  kinsmen,  and  my  son ; 
This  is  not  much. 

Clo.  Not  much  commendation  to  them. 

Count.  Not  much  employment  for  you :  You 
understand  me  ? 

Clo.  Most  fruitfully  j  I  am  there  before  my  legs. 

Count.  Haste  you  again.        [Exeunt  severally. 


T  2 


f*S  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

SCENE    III. 

Paris.  A  Room  in  the  King's  Palace. 
Enter  Bertram,  Lafeu,  and  Parolles. 

Laf.  They  say,  miracles  are  past ;  and  we  have 
our  philosophical  persons,  to  make  modern 5  and 
familiar  things,  supernatural  and  causeless.  Hence 
is  it,  that  we  make  trifles  of  terrors ;  ensconcing 
ourselves  into  seeming  knowledge,6  when  we  should 
submit  ourselves  to  an  unknown  fear.7 

Par.  Why,  'tis  the  rarest  argument  of  wonder, 
that  hath  shot  out  in  our  latter  times. 

Ber.  And  so  'tis. 

Laf.  To  be  relinquished  of  the  artists, 

Par.  So  I  say ;  both  of  Galen  and  Paracelsus. 

Laf.    Of  all  the  learned  and  authentick  fel- 
lows,8— 

1  modern  — ]  i.  e.  common,  ordinary.     So,  in  As  you 

Uke  it: 

"  Full  of  wise  saws,  and  modern  instances." 
Again,   in  another  play:   [All's  well  that  ends  well,    Act   V. 
sc.  iii.]  "  — with  her  modern  grace — ."     Malonk. 

6  ensconcing  ourselves  into  seeming   knowledge,']      To 

ensconce  literally  signifies  to  secure  as  in  a  fort.  So,  in  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:  "  I  will  ensconce  me  behind  the 
arras."  Into  (a  frequent  practice  with  old  writers)  is  used 
for  in.     Steevens. 

7  unknown  fear.]     Fear  is  here  an  object  of  fear. 

Johnson. 

*  Par.  So  I  say;  both  of  Galen  and  Paracelsus. 

Laf.  Of  all  the  learned  and  authentick  fellows,"]      Shak- 

speare,  as  I  have  often  observed,  never  throws  out  his  words  at 

random.     Paracelsus,  though  no  better  than  an  ignorant  and 

knavish  enthusiast,  was  at  this  time  in  such  vogue,  even  amongst 


at  ///.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  277 

Par.  Right,  so  I  say. 

Laf.  That  gave  him  out  incurable,— 

Par.  Why,  there  'tis ;  so  say  I  too. 

Laf.  Not  to  be  helped, — 

Par.  Right :  as  'twere,  a  man  assured  of  an-^ 

the  learned,  that  he  had  almost  justled  Galen  and  the  ancients 
out  of  credit.  On  this  account  learned  is  applied  to  Galen,  and 
authentick  or  fashionable  to  Paracelsus.  Sancy,  in  his  Confession 
Catholique,  p.  301,  Ed.  Col.  1720,  is  made  to  say:  "  Je  trouve 
la  Riviere  premier  medecin,  de  meilleure  humeur  que  ces  gens-la. 
II  est  bon  Galeniste,  8$  tres  bon  Paracelsiste.  //  dit  que  la  doc- 
trine de  Galien  est  honorable,  Sf  non  mesprisable  pour  la  patho- 
logie,  Sf  profitable  pour  les  boutiques.  IS  autre,  pourveu  que  ce 
soit  de  vrais  preceptes  de  Paracelse,  est  bonne  a  suivre  pour  la 
verity,  pour  la  subtilite,  pour  l'espargne ;  en  somme  pour  la 
Therapeutique."     Warburton. 

As  the  whole  merriment  of  this  scene  consists  in  the  preten- 
sions of  Parolles  to  knowledge  and  sentiments  which  he  has  not, 
I  believe  here  are  two  passages  in  which  the  words  and  sense 
are  bestowed  upon  him  by  the  copies,  which  the  author  gave  to 
Lafeu.     I  read  this  passage  thus : 

Laf.  To  be  relinquished  of  the  artists - 

Par.  So  I  say. 

Laf.  Both  of  Galen  and  Paracelsus,  of  all  the  learned  and 
authentick  fellows  —— 

Par.  Right,  so  I  say.    Johnson. 

authentick  fellows,']      The   phrase   of  the  diploma  is, 

authentice  licentiatus.     Musgrave. 

The  epithet  authentick  was  in  our  author's  time  particularly 
applied  to  the  learned.     So,  in  Drayton's  Ovule,  4  to.  1604: 
"  For  which  those  grave  and  still  authentick  sages, 
"  Which  sought  for  knowledge  in  those  golden  ages, 
"  From  whom  we  hold  the  science  that  we  have,"  &c. 

Malone. 

Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida : 

"  As  truth's  authentick  author  to  be  cited." 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  eighth  Iliad  t 

" Nestor  cut  the  yeres 

"  With  his  new  drawne  authcntique  sword ;-~- ." 

Ste*vens. 


278  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

Laf.  Uncertain  life,  and  sure  death. 

Par.  Just,  you  say  well ;  so  would  I  have  said. 

Laf.  I  may  truly  say,  it  is  a  novelty  to  the  world. 

Par.  It  is,  indeed :  if  you  will  have  it  in  show- 
ing, you  shall  read  it  in, What  do  you  call 

there?9— 

Laf.    A   showing  of  a  heavenly  effect  in  an 
earthly  actor.1 

Par.  That's  it  I  would  have  said ;  the  very  same. 

IjAF.  Why,  your  dolphin  is  not  lustier : 2  'fore  me 
I  speak  in  respect— — 


0  Par.  It  is,  indeed:  if  you  will  have  it  in  showing,  &c] 
We  should  read,  I  think :  It  is,  indeed,  if  you  will  have  it  a 
showing — you  shall  read  it  in  what  do  you  call  there. — 

Tyrwhitt. 

Does  not,  if  you  will  have  it  in  showmg,  signify  in  a  demon- 
stration or  statement  of  the  case  ?     Henley. 

1  A  showing  of  a  heavenly  effect  &c]  The  title  of  some 
pamphlet  here  ridiculed.     Warburton. 

*  Why,  your  dolphin  is  not  lustier  .•]  By  dolphin  is  meant 
the  dauphin,  the  heir  apparent,  and. the  hope  of  the  crown  of 
France.     His  title  is  so  translated  in  all  the  old  books. 

Steevens. 

What  Mr.  Steevens  observes  is  certainly  true ;  and  yet  the 
additional  word  your  induces  me  to  think  that  by  dolphin  in 
the  passage  before  us  the  fish  so  called  was  meant.  Thus,  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 

" His  delights 

"  Were  dolphin-like ;  they  show'd  his  back  above 

"  The  element  he  liv'd  in." 
Lafeu,  who  is  an  old  courtier,  if  he  had  meant  the  king's  son, 
would  surely  have  said — "  the  dolphin."     I  use  the  old  spelling. 

Malone. 

In  the  colloquial  language  of  Shakspeare's  time  your  was  fre- 
quently employed  as  it  is  in  this  passage.  So,  in  Hamlet,  the 
Grave-digger  observes,  that  "  your  water  is  a  sore  decayer  of 
your  whorson  dead  body."  Again,  in  As  you  like  it:  "  Your 
if  is  the  only  peace-maker."     Steevens. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  279 

Par.  Nay,  'tis  strange,  'tis  very  strange,  that  is 
the  brief  and  the  tedious  of  it ;  and  he  is  of  a  most 
facinorous  spirit,3  that  will  not  acknowledge  it  to 
be  the 

Laf.  Very  hand  of  heaven. 

Par.  Ay,  so  I  say. 

Laf.  In  a  most  weak 

Par.  And  debile  minister,  great  power,  great 
transcendence :  which  should,  indeed,  give  us  a 
further  use  to  be  made,  than  alone  the  recovery 
of  the  king,4  as  to  be 

Laf.  Generally  thankful. 

3  facinorous  spirit,"]     This  word  is  used  in  Hey  wood's 

English  Traveller,  1633 : 

"  And  magnified  for  high  facinorous  deeds." 
Facinorous  is  wicked.  The  old  copy  spells  the  word  facinerious ; 
but  as  Parolles  is  not  designed  for  a  verbal  blunderer,  I  have 
adhered  to  the  common  spelling.     Steevens. 

*  ivhich   should,   indeed,  give   us    a  further   use   to   be 

made,  &c]  I  believe  Parolles  has  again  usurped  words  and 
sense  to  which  he  has  no  right ;  and  I  read  this  passage  thus : 

Laf.  In  a  most  weak  and  debile  minister,  great  power,  great 
transcendence ;  which  should,  indeed,  give  us  a  further  use  to 
be  made  than  the  mere  recovery  of  the  king. 

Par.  As  to  be 

Laf.  Generally  thankful.     Johnson. 

When  the  parts  are  written  out  for  players,  the  names  of 
the  characters  which  they  are  to  represent  are  never  set  down  ; 
but  only  the  last  words  of  the  preceding  speech  which  belongs 
to  their  partner  in  the  scene.  If  the  plays  of  Shakspeare  were 
printed  (as  there  is  reason  to  suspect)  from  these  piece-meal 
transcripts,  how  easily  may  the  mistake  be  accounted  for,  which 
Dr.  Johnson  has  judiciously  strove  to  remedy  ?     Steevens. 


280  ALL'S  WELL*  ACrn. 

Enter  King,  Helena,  and  Attendants. 

Par.  I  would  have  said  it ;  you  say  well :  Here 
comes  the  king. 

Laf.  Lustick,  as  the  Dutchman  says:5  I'll  like 
a  maid  the  better,  whilst  I  have  a  tooth  in  my 
head :  Why,  he's  able  to  lead  her  a  coranto. 

Par.  Mort  du  Vinaigre!  Is  not  this  Helen  ? 

Laf.  'Fore  God,  I  think  so. 

King.  Go,  call  before  me  all  the  lords  in  court. — 

[Exit  an  Attendant. 
Sit,  my  preserver,  by  thy  patient's  side ; 
And  with  this  healthful  hand,  whose  banish'd  sense 
Thou  hast  repeal'd,  a  second  time  receive 
The  confirmation  of  my  promis'd  gift, 
Which  but  attends  thy  naming. 

Enter  several  Lords. 

Fair  maid,  send  forth  thine  eye :  this  youthful  parcel 
Of  noble  bachelors  stand  at  my  bestowing, 

*  Lustick,  as  the  Dutchman  says:']  Lustigh  is  tbe  Dutch 
word  for  lusty,  chearful,  pleasant.  It  is  used  in  Hans  Beer- 
pot's  invisible  Comedy,  1618: 

" can  walk  a  mile  or  two 

"  As  lustique  as  a  boor — ." 
Again,  in  The  Witches  of  Lancashire,  by  Hey  wood  and  Broome, 
1634: 

"  What  all  lustick,  all  frolicksome !" 
The  burden  also  of  one  of  our  ancient  Medleys  is — 

"  Hey  Lusticke.u  Steevens. 
In  the  narrative  of  the  cruelties  committed  by  the  Dutch  at 
Amboyna,  in  1622,  it  is  said,  that  after  a  night  spent  in  prayer, 
&c.  by  some  of  the  prisoners,  "  the  Dutch  that  guarded  them 
offered  them  wine,  bidding  them  drink  lustick,  and  drive  away 
the  sorrow,  according  to  the  custom  of  their  own  nation." 

Reed. 


sc.  in.         THAT  ENDS  WELL.  281 

0*er  whom  both  sovereign  power  and  father's  voice6 
I  have  to  use :  thy  frank  election  make ; 
Thou  hast  power  to  choose,  and  they  none  to  for- 
sake. 

Hel.  To  each  of  you  one  fair  and  virtuous  mis- 
tress 
Fall,  when  love  please! — marry,  to  each,  but  one ! 7 

Laf.  Pd  give  bay  Curtal,8  and  his  furniture, 
My  mouth  no  more  were  broken 9  than  these  boys', 
And  writ  as  little  beard. 

King.  Peruse  them  well : 

Not  one  of  those,  but  had  a  noble  father. 

Hel.  Gentlemen, 
Heaven  hath,  through  me,  restor'd  the  king  to 
health. 

All.  We  understand  it,  and  thank  heaven  for 
you. 

e  O'er  whom  both  sovereign  power  and  father's  voice — j  They 
were  his  wards  as  well  as  his  subjects.     Henley. 

7 marry,  to  each,  but  one !]  I  cannot  understand  this  pas- 
sage in  any  other  sense,  than  as  a  ludicrous  exclamation,  in  con- 
sequence of  Helena's  wish  of  one  fair  and  virtuous  mistress  to 
each  of  the  lords.  If  that  be  so,  it  cannot  belong  to  Helena ; 
and  might,  properly  enough,  be  given  to  Parolles.    Tyrwhitt. 

Tyrwhitt's  observations  on  this  passage  are  not  conceived  with 
his  usual  sagacity.  He  mistakes  the  import  of  the  words  but 
one,  which  does  not  mean  only  one,  but  except  one. 

Helena  wishes  a  fair  and  virtuous  mistress  to  each  of  the 
young  lords  who  were  present,  one  only  excepted ;  and  the  per- 
son excepted  is  Bertram,  whose  mistress  she  hoped  she  herself 
should  be ;  and  she  makes  the  exception  out  of  modesty :  for 
otherwise  the  description  of  a  fair  and  virtuous  mistress  would 
have  extended  to  herself.     M.  Mason. 

* bay  Curtal,'}  i.  e.  a  bay,  docked  horse.     Steevens. 

9  My  mouth  no  more  were  broken—]  A  broken  mouth  is  a 
mouth  which  has  lost  part  of  its  teeth.    Johnson. 


282  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

Hel.  I  am  a  simple  maid ;  and  therein  wealthiest, 
That,  I  protest,  I  simply  am  a  maid : — — 
Please  it  your  majesty,  I  have  done  already : 
The  blushes  in  my  cheeks  thus  whisper  me, 
We  blush,  that  thou  should'st  choose;  hut,  be  rejus'd, 
Let  the  xvkite  death  sit  on  thy  cheek  for  ever; 
We'll  ne\er  come  .there  again.1 

King.  Make  choice  ;  and,  see, 

Who  shuns  thy  love,  shuns  all  his  love  in  me. 

Hel.  Now,  Dian,  from  thy  altar  do  I  fly ; 
And  to  imperial  Love,  that  god  most  high, 
Do  my  sighs  stream. — Sir,  will  you  hear  my  suit  ? 

1  Lord.  And  grant  it. 

Hel.  Thanks,  sir;  all  the  rest  is  mute.2 

1  We  blush,  that  thou  should'st  choose  ;  but,  be  rejus'd, 
Let  the  white  death  8fc.~\  In  the  original  copy,  these  lines  are 
pointed  thus: 

We  blush  that  thou  should'st  choose,  but  be  rejus'd; 
Let  the  white  death  sit  on  thy  cheek  for  ever,  &c. 
This  punctuation  has  been  adopted  in  all  the  subsequent  edi- 
tions. The  present  regulation  of  the  text  appears  to  me  to 
afford  a  much  clearer  sense.  "  My  blushes,  (says  Helen,)  thus 
whisper  me.  We  blush  that  thou  should'st  have  the  nomination 
of  thy  husband.  However,  choose  him  at  thy  peril.  But,  if 
thou  be  refused,  let  thy  cheeks  be  for  ever  pale  ;  we  will  never 
revisit  them  again." 

The  blushes,  which  are  here  personified,  could  not  be  sup- 
posed to  know  that  Helena  would  be  refused,  as,  according  to 
the  former  punctuation,  they  appear  to  do ;  and,  even  if  the 
poet  had  meant  this,  he  would  surely  have  written  "  — and  be 
refused,"  not  "  — but  be  refused." 

Be  refused  means  the  same  as — "  thou  being  refused," — or, 
"  be  thou  refused."     Ma  lone. 

The  white  death  is  the  chlorosis.    Johnson. 

The  pestilence  that  ravaged  England  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III. 
was  called  "  the  black  death."     Steevens. 

* all  the  rest  is  mute.]  i.  e.  I  have  no  more  to  say  to  you. 

So,  Hamlet:  "—the rest  is  silence"     Steevens. 


so.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  283 

Laf.  I  had  rather  be  in  this  choice,  than  throw 
ames-ace 3  for  my  life. 

Hel.  The  honour,  sir,  that  flames  in  your  fair 
eyes, 
Before  I  speak,  too  threateningly  replies : 
Love  make  your  fortunes  twenty  times  above 
Her  that  so  wishes,  and  her  humble  love ! 

2  Lord.  No  better,  if  you  please. 

Hel.  My  wish  receive, 

Which  great  love  grant !  and  so  I  take  my  leave. 

Laf.  Do  all  they  deny  her  ? 4  An  they  were  sons 
of  mine,  I'd  have  them  whipped  ;  or  I  would  send 
them  to  the  Turk,  to  make  eunuchs  of. 

Hel.  Be  not  afraid  {To  a  Lord]  that  I  your 
hand  should  take ; 
I'll  never  do  you  wrong  for  your  own  sake  : 
Blessing  upon  your  vows  !  and  in  your  bed 
Find  fairer  fortune,  if  you  ever  wed ! 

Laf.  These  boys  are  boys  of  ice,  they'll  none 
have  her :  sure,  they  are  bastards  to  the  English  ; 
the  French  ne'er  got  them. 

Hel.  You  are  too  young,  too  happy,  and  too 
good, 
To  make  yourself  a  son  out  of  my  blood. 

4  Lord.  Fair  one,  I  think  not  so. 

3 ames-ace — ]  i.e.  the  lowest  chance  of  the  dice.   So,  in 

The  Ordinary,  by  Cartwright :  " may  I  at  my  last  stake, 

&c.  throw  ames-aces  thrice  together."     Steevens. 

*  l»af.  Do  all  they  deny  herf]  None  of  them  have  yet 
denied  her,  or  deny  her  afterwards,  but  Bertram.  The  scene 
must  be  so  regulated  that  Lafeu  and  Parolles  talk  at  a  distance, 
where  they  may  see  what  passes  between  Helena  and  the  lords, 
but  not  hear  it,  so  that  they  know  not  by  whom  the  refusal  is 
made.    Johnson. 


284  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

Laf.  There's  one  grape  vet,6 — I  am  sure,  thy 
father  drank  wine. — But  if  tnou  be'st  not  an  ass,  I 
am  a  youth  of  fourteen  j  I  have  known  thee  al- 
ready. 

Hel.  I  dare  not  say,  I  take  you  ;  [To  Bertram] 
but  I  give 
Me,  and  my  service,  ever  whilst  I  live, 
Into  your  guiding  power. — This  is  the  man. 

King.  Why  then,  young  Bertram,  take  her,  she's 
thy  wife. 

Ber.  My  wife,  my  liege  ?  I  shall  beseech  your 
highness, 
In  such  a  business  give  me  leave  to  use 
The  help  of  mine  own  eyes. 

King.  Know'st  thou  not,  Bertram, 

What  she  has  done  for  me  ? 

Ber.  Yes,  my  good  lord  ; 

But  never  hope  to  know  why  I  should  marry  her. 

King.  Thou  know'st,  she  has  rais'd  me  from 
my  sickly  bed. 

Ber.  But  follows  it,  my  lord,  to  bring  me  down 
Must  answer  for  your  raising  ?  I  know  her  well ; 
She  had  her  breeding  at  my  father's  charge  : 
A  poor  physician's  daughter  my  wife  ! — Disdain 
Rather  corrupt  me  ever ! 

4  There's  one  grape  yet>~\  This  speech  the  three  last  editors 
[Theobald,Hanmer,and  Warburton,]  have  perplexed  themselves, 
by  dividing  between  Lafeu  and  Parolles,  without  any  authority 
of  copies,  or  any  improvement  of  sense.  I  have  restored  the  old 
reading,  and  should  have  thought  no  explanation  necessary,  but 
that  Mr.  Theobald  apparently  misunderstood  it. 

Old  Lafeu  having,  upon  the  supposition  that  the  lady  was 
refused,  reproached  the  young  lords  as  boys  of  ice,  throwing  his 
eyes  on  Bertram,  who  remained,  cries  out,  There  is  one  yet  into 

whom  his  father  put  good  blood but  I  have  known  thee  long 

enough  to  know  thee  for  an  ass.    Johnson. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  285 

King.  'Tis  only  title 6  thou  disdain'st  in  her,  the 
which 
I  can  build  up.     Strange  is  it,  that  our  bloods, 
Of  colour,  weight,  and  heat,7  pour'd  all  together, 
Would  quite  confound  distinction,  yet  stand  off 
In  differences  so  mighty  :  If  she  be 
All  that  is  virtuous,  (save  what  thou  dislik'st, 
A  poor  physician's  daughter,)  thou  dislik'st 
Of  virtue  for  the  name  :  but  do  not  so  : 
From  lowest  place  when  virtuous  things  proceed,8 
The  place  is  dignified  by  the  doer's  deed  : 
Where  great  additions  swell,9  and  virtue  none, 
It  is  a  dropsied  honour  :  good  alone 
Is  good,  without  a  name  ;  vileness  is  so  : l 
The  property  by  what  it  is  should  go, 

6  'Tw  only  title  — ]  i.  e.  the  want  of  title.    Malone. 

7  Of  colour,  weight,  and  heat,]  That  is,  which  are  of  the  same 
colour,  weight,  &c.     Malone. 

•  From  lowest  place  when  virtuous  things  proceed,"]  The  old 
copy  has — whence.  This  easy  correction  [when]  was  prescribed 
by  Dr.  Thirlby.     Theobald. 

9  Where  great  additions  swell,]  Additions  are  the  titles  and 
descriptions  by  which  men  are  distinguished  from  each  other. 

Malone. 

1 good  alone 

Is  good,  without  a  name  ;  vileness  is  so :]  Shakspeare  may 
mean,  that  external  circumstances  have  no  power  over  the  real 
nature  of  things.  Good  alone  (i.  e.  by  itself)  without  a  name 
1 1.  e.  without  the  addition  of  titles)  is  good.  Vileness  is  so 
(i.  e.  is  itself.)  Either  of  them  is  what  its  name  implies: 
"  The  property  by  what  it  is  should  go, 

"  Not  by  the  title ." 

*'  Let's  write  good  angel  on  the  devil's  horn, 

"  *Tis  not  the  devil's  crest."     Measure  for  Measure. 

SteevenS. 

Steevens's  last  interpretation  of  this  passage  is  very  near  being 
right ;  but  I  think  it  should  be  pointed  thus : 

good  alone 

Is  good ; — without  a  name,  vileness  is  so. 


286  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

Not  by  the  title.     She  is  young,  wise,  fair  ; 
In  these  to  nature  she's  immediate  heir  ;* 
And  these  breed  honour :  that  is  honour's  scorn, 
Which  challenges  itself  as  honour's  born, 
And  is  not  like  the  sire  : 3  Honours  best  thrive,4 
When  rather  from  our  acts  we  them  derive 

Meaning  that  good  is  good  without  any  addition,  and  vileness 
would  still  he  vileness,  though  we  had  no  such  name  to  distin- 
guish it  hy.     A  similar  expression  occurs  in  Macbeth  : 

"  Though  all  things  foul  would  wear  the  brows  of  grace, 

"'Yet  grace  must  still  look  so." 
That  is,  grace  would  still  be  grace,  as  vileness  would  still  be 
vileness.     M.  Mason. 

The  meaning  is, — Good  is  good,  independent  on  any  worldly 
distinction  or  title :  so  vileness  is  vile,  in  whatever  state  it  may 
appear.     Malone. 

*  In  these  to  nature  she's  immediate  heir ;]  To  be  immediate 
heir  is  to  inherit  without  any  intervening  transmitter  :  thus  she 
inherits  beauty  immediately  from  naticre,  but  honour  is  transmit- 
ted by  ancestors.     Johnson. 

3 that  is  honour's  scorn. 

Which  challenges  itself  as  honour's  born, 

And  is  not  like  the  sire .-]  Perhaps  we  might  read,  more 
elegantly — as  honour-born, — honourably  descended :  the  child  of 
honour.     Malone. 

Honour's  born,  is  the  child  of  honour.  Born  is  here  used,  as 
bairn  still  is  in  the  North.     Henley. 

*  And  is  not  like  the  sire :  Honours  best  thrive,  &c.~\  The  first 
folio  omits — best;  but  the  second  folio  supplies  it,  as  it  is  neces- 
sary to  enforce  the  sense  of  the  passage,  and  complete  its  mea- 
sure.    Steevens. 

The  modern  editors  read — Honours  best  thrive  ;  in  which  they 
have  followed  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  who  introduced  the 
word  best  unnecessarily ;  not  observing  that  sire  was  used  by  our 
author,  like  fire,  hour,  &c.  as  a  dissyllable.    Malone. 

Where  is  an  example  of  sire,  used  as  a  dissyllable,  to  be 
found  ?  Fire  and  hour  were  anciently  written  fier  and  hovoer  ; 
and  consequently  the  concurring  vowels  could  be  separated  in 
pronunciation.     Steevens. 


■  sew.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  287 

Than  our  fore-goers  :  the  mere  word's  a  slave, 

Debauch'd  on  every  tomb  ;   on  every  grave, 

A  lying  trophy,  and  as  oft  is  dumb, 

Where  dust,  and  damn'd  oblivion,  is  the  tomb 

Of  honour'd  bones  indeed.     What  should  be  said? 

If  thou  canst  like  this  creature  as  a  maid, 

I  can  create  the  rest ;  virtue,  and  she, 

Is  her  own  dower ;  honour,  and  wealth,  from  me. 

Ber.  I  cannot  love  her,  nor  will  strive  to  do't. 
King.  Thou  wrong'st  thyself,  if  thou  should'st 
strive  to  choose. 

Hel.  That  you  are  well  restor'd,  my  lord,  I  am 
glad; 
Let  the  rest  go. 

King.  My  honour's  at  the  stake;  which  to  defeat, 
I  must  produce  my  power:5  Here,  take  her  hand, 
Proud  scornful  boy,  unworthy  this  good  gift; 

*  My  honour's  at  the  stake  ;  "which  to  defeat, 
I  must  produce  my  power  .•]    The  poor  King  of  France  is 
again  made  a  man  of  Gotham,  by  our  unmerciful  editors.     For 
he  is  not  to  make  use  of  his  authority  to  defeat,  but  to  defend, 
his  honour.     Theobald. 

Had  Mr.  Theobald  been  aware  that  the  implication  or  clause 
of  the  sentence  (as  the  grammarians  say)  served  for  the  antece- 
dent "  Which  danger  to  defeat"  there  had  been  no  need  of  his 
wit  or  his  alteration.     Farmer. 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Theobald's  pert  censure  of  former  edi- 
tors for  retaining  the  word  defeat,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  it  re- 
stored again,  as  I  am  persuaded  it  is  the  true  reading.  The 
French  verb  defaire  (from  whence  our  defeat)  signifies  to  free, 
to  disembarrass,  as  well  as  to  destroy.  Defaire  un  nceud,  is  to 
untie  a  knot ;  and  in  this  sense,  I  apprehend,  defeat  is  here 
used.  It  may  be  observed,  that  our  verb  undo  has  the  same 
varieties  of  signification;  and  I  suppose  even  Mr.  Theobald 
would  not  have  been  much  puzzled  to  find  the  sense  of  this  pas- 
sage, if  it  had  been  written ; — My  honour's  at  the  stake,  which  to 
undo  I  must  produce  my  power .     Tyrwhitt. 


288  ALL'S  WELL  act  n. 

That  dost  in  vile  misprision  shackle  up 

My  love,  and  her  desert ;  that  canst  not  dream, 

We,  poizing  us  in  her  defective  scale, 

Shall  weigh  thee  to  the  beam  :c  that  wilt  not  know, 

It  is  in  us  to  plant  thine  honour,  where 

We  please  to  have  it  grow  :  Check  thy  contempt : 

Obey  our  will,  which  travails  in  thy  good : 

Believe  not  thy  disdain,  but  presently 

Do  thine  own  fortunes  that  obedient  right, 

Which  both  thy  duty  owes,  and  our  power  claims ; 

Or  I  will  throw  thee  from  my  care  for  ever, 

Into  the  staggers,7  and  the  careless  lapse 

Of  youth  and  ignorance;  both  my  revenge  and  hate, 

Loosing  upon  thee  in  the  name  of  justice, 

Without  all  terms  of  pity  :  Speak  ;  thine  answer. 

Ber.  Pardon,  my  gracious  lord  ;  for  I  submit 
My  fancy  to  your  eyes :  When  I  consider, 
What  great  creation,  and  what  dole  of  honour, 
Flies  where  you  bid  it,  I  find,  that  she,  which  late 
Was  in  my  nobler  thoughts  most  base,  is  now 
The  praised  of  the  king  j  who,  so  ennobled, 
Is,  as  'twere,  born  so. 

6 that  canst  not  dream, 

We,  poizing  us  in  her  defective  scale. 

Shall  tveigh  thee  to  the  beam  ;]  That  canst  not  understand, 
that  if  you  and  this  maiden  should  be  weighed  together,  and 
our  royal  favours  should  be  thrown  into  her  scale,  (which  you 
esteem  so  light,)  we  should  make  that  in  which  you  should  be 
placed,  to  strike  the  beam.     Ma  lone. 

7  Into  the  staggers,]  One  species  of  the  staggers,  or  the  horse's 
apoplexy,  is  a  raging  impatience,  which  makes  the  animal  dash 
himself  with  a  destructive  violence  against  posts  or  walls.  To 
this  the  allusion,  I  suppose,  is  made.    Johnson. 

Shakspeare  has  the  same  expression  in  Cymbeline,  where 
Posthumus  says : 

**  Whence  come  these  staggers  on  me }"    Steevens. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  289 

King.  Take  her  by  the  hand, 

And  tell  her,  she  is  thine :  to  whom  I  promise 
A  counterpoize ;  if  not  to  thy  estate, 
A  balance  more  replete. 

Ber.  I  take  her  hand. 

Kin&.  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 :  8  the  solemn  feast 

8 whose  ceremony 

Shall  seem  expedient  on  the  now-born  brief, 
And  be  ■performed  to-night  .•]    Several  of  the  modern  editors 
read — new-born  brief.     Steevens. 

This,  if  it  be  at  all  intelligible,  is  at  least  obscure  and  inaccu- 
rate.   Perhaps  it  was  written  thus : 

what  ceremony 

Shall  seem  expedient  on  the  now-born  brief, 

Shall  be  performed  to-night  ;  the  solemnfeast 

Shall  more  attend . 

The  brief  is  the  contract  of  espousal,  or  the  licence  of  the  church. 
The  King  means,  What  ceremony  is  necessary  to  make  this  con- 
tract a  marriage,  shall  be  immediately  performed  ;  the  rest  may 
be  delayed.    Johnson. 

The  only  authentick  copy  reads — now-born.  I  do  not  perceive 
that  any  change  is  necessary.    Malone. 

The  whole  speech  is  unnaturally  expressed ;  yet  I  think  it  in- 
telligible as  it  stands,  and  should  therefore  reject  Johnson's 
amendment  and  explanation. 

The  word  brief  does  not  here  denote  either  a  contract  or  a 
licence,  but  is  an  adjective,  and  means  short  or  contracted :  and 
the  words  on  the  now-born,  signify  for  the  present,  in  opposition 
to  upon  the  coming  space,  which  means  hereafter.  The  sense 
of  the  whole  passage  seems  to  be  this : — "  The  king  and  fortune 
smile  on  this  contract ;  the  ceremony  of  which  it  seems  ex- 
pedient to  abridge  for  the  present ;  the  solemn  feast  shall  be 
performed  at  a  future  time,  when  we  shall  be  able  to  assemble 
friends."     M.  Mason. 

Though  I  have  inserted  the  foregoing  note,  I  do  not  profess 
to  comprehend  its  meaning  fully.    Shakspeare  used  the  words 

VOL.  VIII.  U 


290-  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

Shall  more  attend  upon  the  coming  space, 
Expecting  absent  friends.     As  thou  lov'st  her, 
Thy  love's  to  me  religious ;  else,  does  err. 

[Exeunt  King,  Bertram,  Helena,  Lords, 
and  Attendants.9 
Laf.  Do  you  hear,  monsieur  ?  a  word  with  you. 
Par,  Your  pleasure,  sir  ? 

expedience,  expedient,  and  expediently,  in  the  sense  of  haste, 
quick,  expeditiously.  A  brief,  in  ancient  language,  means  any 
short  and  summary  writing  or  proceeding.  The  noxv-born  brief 
is  only  another  phrase  for  the  contract  recently  and  suddenly 
made.  The  ceremony  of  it  (says  the  king)  shall  seem  to  hasten 
after  its  short  preliminary,  and  be  performed  to-night,  &c. 

Steevens. 

Now-iorn,  the  epithet  in  the  old  copy,  prefixed  to  brief,  un- 
questionably ought  to  be  restored.  The  now-born  brief,  is  the 
breve  originale  of  the  feudal  times,  which,  in  this  instance,  for- 
mally notified  the  king's  consent  to  the  marriage  of  Bertram,  his 
ward.    Henley. 

Our  author  often  uses  brief  in  the  sense  of  a  short  note,  or 
intimation  concerning  any  business ;  and  sometimes  without  the 
idea  of  writing.     So,  in  the  last  Act  of  this  play : 

u  — —  she  told  me 

"  In  a  sweet  verbal  brief,'1  &c. 
Again,  in  the  Prologue  to  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1600: 

"  To  stop  which  scruple,  let  this  brief  suffice  :— 

"  It  is  no  pamper'd  glutton  we  present,*'  &c. 
The  meaning  therefore  of  the  present  passage,  I  believe,  is : 
Good  fortune,  and  the  king's  favour,  smile  on  this  short  con- 
tract ;  the  ceremonial  part  of  which  shall  immediately  pass, — 
shall  follotv  close  on  the  troth  nolo  plighted  between  the  parties, 
and  be  performed  this  night ;  the  solemn  feast  shall  be  delayed 
to  a  future  time.    Malone. 

9  The  old  copy  has  the  following  singular  continuation :  Pa- 
rolles  and  Lafeu  stay  behind,  commenting  of  this  wedding.  This 
could  have  been  only  the  marginal  note  of  a  prompter,  and  was 
never  designed  to  appear  in  print.    Steevens. 

To  comment  means,  I  believe,  to  assume  the  appearance  of 
persons  deeply  engaged  in  thought.    Malone. 


sc.  in.         THAT  ENDS  WELL.  291 

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  under- 
stood 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 ;  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,1  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. 
I  have  now  found  thee ;  when  I  lose  thee  again,  I 
care  not :  yet  art  thou  good  for  nothing  but  taking 
up  ;a  and  that  thou  art  scarce  worth. 

Par.  Hadst  thou  not  the  privilege  of  antiquity 
upon  thee, 

Laf.  Do  not  plunge  thyself  too  far  in  anger,  lest 
thou  hasten  thy  trial ;  which  if — Lord  have  mercy 


1 for  txvo  ordinaries,']  While  I  sat  twice  with  thee  at 

table.    Johnson. 

* taking  up;"]    To  take  up  is  to  contradict,  to  call  to  ac- 

tount ;  as  well  as  to  pick  off  the  ground.    Johnson. 

U  2 


29*2  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

on  thee  fop  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  in- 
dignity. 

Laf.  Ay,  with  all  my  heart  j  and  thou  art  wor- 
thy 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.  E'en  as  soon  as  thou  canst,  for  thou  hast  to 
pull  at  a  smack  o*  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,3  he  is 
a  man  I  know. 

Par.  My  lord,  you  do  me  most  insupportable 
vexation. 

Laf.  I  would  it  were  hell-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.4  {Exit. 

*  — —  in  the  default, "\  That  is,  at  a  need.    Johns6n. 

4  for  doing  I  am  past ;  as  I  will  by  thee,  in  what  motion 

age  will  give  me  leave.']  The  conceit,  which  is  so  thin  that  it 
might  well  escape  a  hasty  reader,  is  in  the  word  past — /  am  past, 
as  I  will  Se  past  by  thee.    Johnson. 

Lafeu  means  to  say,  "  for  doing  I  am  past,  as  I  will  pass  by 
thee,  in  what  motion  age  will  permit."  Lafeu  says,  that  he  will 
pass  by  Parolles,  not  that  he  will  be  passed  by  him  ;  and  Lafeu 
is  actually  the  person  who  goes  out.     M.  Mason. 

Dr.  Johnson  is,  I  believe,  mistaken.    Mr.  Edwards  has,  I 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  293 

Par.  Well,  thou  hast  a  son  shall  take  this  dis- 
,  grace  off  me ; 5  scurvy,  old,  filthy,  scurvy  lord ! — 
Well,  I  must  be  patient ;  there  is  no  fettering  of 
authority.  I'll  beat  him,  by  my  life,  if  I  can  meet 
him  with  any  convenience,  an  he  were  double  and 
double  a  lord.  I'll  have  no  more  pity  of  his  age, 
than  I  would  have  of — I'll  beat  him,  an  if  I  could 
but  meet  him  again. 

Re-enter  Lafeu. 

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 :  whom  I  serve  above,  is  my  master. 

Laf.  Who?  God? 

Par.  Ay,  sir. 

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 


think,  given  the  true  meaning  of  Lafeu's  words.  "  I  cannot  do 
much,  says  Lafeu ;  doing  I  am  past,  as  I  will  by  thee  in  what 
motion  age  will  give  me  leave  ;  i.  e.  as  I  will  pass  by  thee  as  fast 
as  I  am  able: — and  he  immediately  goes  out.  It  is  a  play  on 
the  word  past :  the  conceit  indeed  is  poor,  but  Shakspeare  plainly 
meant  it."     Maloke. 

Doing  is  here  used  obscenely.     So,  in  Ben  Jonson's  transla- 
tion of  a  passage  in  an  Epigram  of  Petronius : 
"  Brevis  est,  &c.  etjbeda  voluptas." 
"  Doing  a  filthy  pleasure  is,  and  short."     Collins. 

*  Well,  thou  hast  a  son  shall  take  this  disgrace  off"  me  ;]  This 
the  poet  makes  Parolles  speak  alone ;  and  this  is  nature.  A 
coward  should  try  to  hide  his  poltroonery  even  from  himself. 
An  ordinary  writer  would  have  been  glad  of  such  an  opportunity 
to  bring  him  to  confession.    Warburton. 


294  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

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  of- 
fence, and  every  man  should  beat  thee.  I  think, 
thou  wast  created  for  men  to  breathe  themselves 
upon  thee. 

Par.  This  is  hard  and  undeserved  measure,  my 
lord. 

Laf.  Go  to,  sir ;  you  were  beaten  in  Italy  for 
picking  a  kernel  out  of  a  pomegranate  ;  you  are  a 
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.6 You  are  not  worth  another  word,  else 
I'd  call  you  knave.     I  leave  you.  [Exit. 

Enter  Bertram. 

Par.  Good,  very  good;  it  is  so  then. — Good, 
very  good ;  let  it  be  concealed  a  while. 

Ber.  Undone,  and  forfeited  to  cares  for  ever ! 

Par.  What  is  the  matter,  sweet  heart  ? 

Ber.  Although  before  the  solemn  priest  I  have 
sworn, 
I  will  not  bed  her. 

Par.  What  ?  what,  sweet  heart  ? 

Ber.  O  my  Parolles,  they  have  married  me  : — 
I'll  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  ! 


• than  the  heraldry  of  your  birth  &c]  In  former  copies : 

■ — than  the  commission  of  your  birth  and  virtue  gives  you  heraldry. 
Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  restored  it.    Johnson. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  295 

Ber.  There's  letters  from  my  mother;  what  the 
import  is, 
I  know  not  yet. 

Par.  Ay,  that  would  be  known :  To  the  wars, 
my  boy,  to  the  wars ! 
He  wears  his  honour  in  a  box  unseen, 
That  hugs  his  kicksy-wicksy  here  at  home  j 7 
Spending  his  manly  marrow  in  her  arms, 
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 
Shall  furnish  me  to  those  Italian  fields, 
Where  noble  fellows  strike :  War  is  no  strife 
To  the  dark  house,  and  the  detested  wife.8 


7  That  hugs  his  kicksy-wicksy  &c]  Sir  T.  Hanmer,  in  his 
Glossary,  observes,  that  kicksy-wicksy  is  a  made  word  in  ridicule 
and  disdain  of  a  wife.  Taylor,  the  water-poet,  has  a  poem  in 
disdain  of  his  debtors,  entitled,  A  kicksy-wnsy,  or  a  Lerry  come' 
twang.     Grey. 

8  To  the  dark  house,  &c]  The  dark  house  is  a  house  made 
gloomy  by  discontent.  Milton  says  of  death  and  the  king  of  hell 
preparing  to  combat: 

"  So  frown 'd  the  mighty  combatants,  that  hell 
"  Grew  darker  at  their  frown."     Johnson. 

Perhaps  this  is  the  same  thought  we  meet  with  in  King 
Henry  IV.  only  more  solemnly  expressed : 

" he's  as  tedious 

"  As  is  a  tired  horse,  a  railing  wife, 
"  Worse  than  a  smoaky  house." 
The  proverb  originated  before  chimneys  were  in  general  use, 
which  was  not  till  the  middle  of  Elizabeth's  reign.     See  Piers 
Plowman,  passus  17: 


296  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

PAR.  Will  this  capricio  hold  in  thee,  art  sure  ? 

Ber.  Go  with  me  to  my  chamber,  and  advise 
me. 
I'll  send  her  straight  away:  To-morrow9 
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. 

\_Exeunt. 

"  Thre  thinges  there  be  that  doe  a  man  by  strength 
"  For  to  flye  his  owne  house,  as  holy  wryte  sheweth : 
U  That  one  is  a  wycked  wife,  that  wyll  not  be  chastysed ; 
"  Her  fere  flyeth  from  her,  for  feare  of  her  tonge  : — 
"  And  when  smolke  and  smoulder  smight  in  his  syghtey 
"  It  doth  him  worse  than  his  toyfe,  or  wete  to  slepe  ; 
"  For  smolke  or  smoulder,  smiteth  in  his  eyen 
"  'Til he  be  blear' d  or  blind;'  &c. 
The  old  copy  reads — detected  wife.    Mr.  Rowe  made  the  cor- 
rection.    Steevens. 

The  emendation  is  fully  supported  by  a  subsequent  passage : 
"  'Tis  a  hard  bondage  to  become  the  wife 
"  Of  a  detesting  lord."     Malone. 

'  Til  send  her  straight  away:  To-morrotv — ]  As  this  line 
wants  a  foot,  I  suppose  our  author  wrote — "  Betimes  to-morrow." 
So,  in  Macbeth : 

" 1  will  to-morrow, 

"  Betimes  I  will,"  &c.    Steevens. 


sciv.     »       THAT  ENDS  WELL.  297 

SCENE  IV. 

The  same.     Another  Room  in  the  same. 
Enter  Helena  and  Clown. 

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  is  not  well:  but 
thanks  be  given,  she's  very  well,  and  wants  nothing 
i'the  world ;  but  yet  she  is  not  well. 

Hel.  If  she  be  very  well,  what  does  she  ail,  that 
she's  not  very  well  ? 

Clo.  Truly,  she's  very  well,  indeed,  but  for 
two  things. 

Hel.  What  two  things  ? 

Clo.  One,  that  she's  not  in  heaven,  whither  God 
send  her  quickly !  the  other,  that  she's  in  earth, 
from  whence  God  send  her  quickly ! 

Enter  Parolles. 

Par.  Bless  you,  my  fortunate  lady! 

Hel.  I  hope,  sir,  I  have  your  good  will  to  have 
mine  own  good  fortunes.1 

Par.  You  had  my  prayers  to  lead  them  on ;  and 
to  keep  them  on,  have  them  still. — O,  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. 

1  fortunes.']    Old  copy—fortune.      Corrected  by   Mr. 

Steevens.    Malone. 


298  ALL'S  WELL  act  iu 

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  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 
thou  art  a  knave ;  that  is,  before  me  thou  art  a 
knave  :  this  had  been  truth,  sir. 

Par.  Go  to,  thou  art  a  witty  fool,  I  have  found 
thee. 

Clo.  Did  you  find  me  in  yourself,  sir  ?  or  were 
you  taught  to  find  me  ?  The  search,  sir,  was  pro- 
fitable ;  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.2 — 
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  by  a  compell'd  restraint  j 3 

*  and  well  fed.]      An    allusion,   perhaps,   to  the   old 

saying — "  Better  fed  than  taught;"  to  which  the  Clown  has 
himself  alluded  in  a  preceding  scene  : — "  I  will  show  myself 
highly  fed  and  lowly  taught."     Ritson. 

s  But  puts  it  off  by  a  compelVd  restraint;]  The  old  copy 
reads — to  a  compell'd  restraint.     Steevens, 

The  editor  of  the  third  folio  reads — by  a  compell'd  restraint ; 
and  the  alteration  has  been  adopted  by  the  modern  editors; 
perhaps  without  necessity.  Our  poet  might  have  meant,  in  his 
usual  licentious  manner,  that  Bertram  puts  off  the  completion 
of  his  wishes  to  a  future  day,  till  which  he  is  compelled  to 
restrain  his  desires.     This,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  very  harsh ; 


sc.  if.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  299 

Whose  want,  and  whose  delay,  is  strewed  with 

sweets, 
Which  they  distil  now  in  the  curbed  time,4 
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  o'the 
king, 

but  our  author  is  often  so  licentious  in  his  phraseology,  that 
change  on  that  ground  alone  is  very  dangerous.  In  King 
Henry  VIII.  we  have  a  phraseology  not  very  different : 

" All-souls  day 

"  Is  the  determined  respite  of  ray  wrongs." 
i.  e.  the  day  to  which  my  wrongs  are  respited.     Malone. 

4  Whose  want,  and  whose  delay,  &c]  The  streets  with 
which  that  want  are  strewed,  I  suppose,  are  compliments  and 
professions  of  kindness.    Johnson. 

Johnson  seems  not  to  have  understood  this  passage;  the 
meaning  of  which  is  merely  this: — "  That  the  delay  of  the  joys, 
and  the  expectation  of  them,  would  make  them  more  delightful 
when  they  come."  The  curbed  time,  means  the  time  of  restraint. 
Whose  want,  means  the  want  of  which.  So,  in  The  Tivo  Noble 
Kinsmen,  Theseus  says: 

" A  day  or  two 

"  Let  us  look  sadly, — in  whose  end, 

"  The  visages  of  bridegrooms  we'll  put  on." 

M.  Mason. 

The  sweets  which  are  distilled,  by  the  restraint  said  to  be  im- 
posed on  Bertram,  from  "  the  want  and  delay  of  the  great 
prerogative  of  love,"  are  the  sweets  of  expectation.  Parolles  is 
here  speaking  of  Bertram's  feelings  during  this  "  curbed  time," 
not,  as  Dr.  Johnson  seems  to  have  thought,  of  those  of  Helena. 
The  following  lines,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  may  prove  the 
best  comment  on  the  present  passage: 

m  I  am  giddy ;  expectation  whirls  me  round. 

"  The  imaginary  relish  is  so  sweet 

"  That  it  enchants  my  sense.    What  will  it  be, 

"  When  that  the  watery  palate  tastes  indeed 

"  Love's  thrice-reputed  nectar  ?    Death,  I  fear  me, 

«'  Swooning  destruction  ;'*  &c.    Malone. 


300  ALL'S  WELL  act  n. 

And  make  this  haste  as  your  own  good  proceeding, 
Strengthen'd  with  what  apology  you  think 
May  make  it  probable  need.5 

Hel.  What  more  commands  he  ? 

Par.  That,  having  this  obtain'd,  you  presently 
Attend  his  further  pleasure. 

Hel.  In  every  thing  I  wait  upon  his  will. 

Par.  I  shall  report  it  so. 

Hel,  I  pray  you. — Come,  sirrah. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. 

Another  Room  in  the  same. 

Enter  Lafeu  and  Bertram. 

Laf.  But,  I  hope,  your  lordship  thinks  not  him 
a  soldier. 

Ber.  Yes,  my  lord,  and  of  very  valiant  approof. 

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.6 

*  probable  need.]     A  specious  appearance  of  necessity. 

Johnson. 

6  a  bunting.]     This  bird  is  mentioned  in  Lyly's  Love's 

Metamorphosis,  1601 :  "  — but  foresters  think  all  birds  to  be 
buntings."  Barrett's  Alvearie,  or  Quadruple  Dictionary,  1580, 
gives  this  account  of  it :  "  Terraneola  et  rubetra,  avis  alaudae 
similis,  &c.  Dicta  terraneola  quod  non  in  arboribus,  sed  in 
terra  versetur  et  nidificet."  The  following  proverb  is  in  Ray's 
Collection  :  "  A  gosshawk  beats  not  a  bunting."     Steevens. 

/  took  this  lark  for  a  bunting.]     This  is  a  fine  discrimination 


sc.  v.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  SOI 

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. 

Enter  Parolles. 

Par.  These  things  shall  be  done,  sir. 

[To  Bertram. 

Laf.  Pray  you,  sir,  who's  his  tailor  ? 

Par.  Sir?  " 

Laf.  O,  I  know  him  well :  Ay,  sir ;  he,  sir,  is 
a  good  workman,  a  very  good  tailor. 

Ber.  Is  she  gone  to  the  king  ? 

[Aside  to  Parolles. 

Par.  She  is. 

Ber.  Will  she  away  to-night  ? 

Par.  As  you'll  have  her. 

Ber.  I  have  writ  my  letters,  casketed  my  trea- 
sure, 
Given  order  for  our  horses ;  and  to-night, 
When  I  should  take  possession  of  the  bride, — 
And,  ere  I  do  begin, 


between  the  possessor  of  courage,  and  him  that  only  has  the  ap- 
pearance of  it. 

The  bunting  is,  in  feather,  size,  and  form,  so  like  the  sky-lark, 
as  to  require  nice  attention  to  discover  the  one  from  the  other ; 
it  also  ascends  and  sinks  in  the  air  nearly  in  the  same  manner : 
but  it  has  little  or  no  song,  which  gives  estimation  to  the  sky- 
lark.   J.  Johnson. 


302  ALL'S  WELL  act  n. 

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  no- 
things with,  should  be  once  heard,  and  thrice 
beaten. — God  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. 

Laf.  You  have  made  shift  to  run  into't,  boots 
and  spurs  and  all,  like  him  that  leaped  into  the 
custard ; 8  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. 


7  A  good  traveller  is  something  at  the  latter  end  of  a  dinner  ; 
but  one  that  lies  three-thirds,  &c]  So,  in  Marlowe's  King 
Edward  II.  1598 : 

"  Gav.  What  art  thou  ? 
'*  2  Poor  Man.  A  traveller. 
"  Gav.  Let  me  see ;  thou  would'st  well 
"  To  wait  on  my  trencher,  and  tell  me  lies  at  dinner- 
time."    Malone. 

•  You  have  made  shift  to  run  into't,  boots  and  spurs  and  all, 
like  him  that  leaped  into  the  custard ;]  This  odd  allusion  is  not 
introduced  without  a  view  to  satire.  It  was  a  foolery  practised 
at  city  entertainments,  whilst  the  jester  or  zany  was  in  vogue, 
for  him  to  jump  into  a  large  deep  custard,  set  for  the  purpose, 
to  set  on  a  quantity  of  barren  spectators  to  laugh,  as  our  poet 
says  in  his  Hamlet.  I  do  not  advance  this  without  some  au- 
thority ;  and  a  quotation  from  Ben  Jonson  will  very  well  ex- 
plain it : 

"  He  may  perchance,  in  tail  of  a  sheriff's  dinner, 
"  Skip  with  a  rhime  o'the  table,  from  New-nothing, 
"  And  take  his  Almain-leap  into  a  custard, 
"  Shall  make  my  lady  mayoress,  and  her  sisters, 
"  Laugh  all  their  hoods  over  their  shoulders." 

Devil's  an  Ass,  Act  I.  sc.  i.     Theobald. 


m  v.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  303 

Laf.  And  shall  do  so  ever,  though  I  took  him 
at  his  prayers.  Fare  you  well,  my  lord ;  and  be- 
lieve 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,  monsieur :  I  have  spoken  better  of  you, 
than  you  have  or  will  deserve9  at  my  hand;  but 
we  must  do  good  against  evil.  [Exit. 

Par.  An  idle  lord,  I  swear. 

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  required  office 
On  my  particular :  prepar'd  I  was  not 
For  such  a  business ;  therefore  am  I  found 

9  ■  ■  than  you  have  or  will  deserve—"]  The  oldest  copy 
erroneously  reads — have  or  will  to  deserve.     Steevens. 

Something  seems  to  have  been  omitted;  but  I  know  not  how 
to  rectify  the  passage.  Perhaps  we  should  read — than  you  have 
qualities  or  will  to  deserve.  The  editor  of  the  second  folio 
reads — than  you  have  or  will  deserve — .    Malone. 


504  ALL'S  WELL  act  ii. 

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  : l 
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.  This  to  my  mother : 

[Giving  a  letter, 
'Twill  be  two  days  ere  I  shall  see  you  ;  so 
I  leave  you  to  your  wisdom. 

Hel.  Sir,  I  can  nothing  say, 

But  that  I  am  your  most  obedient  servant. 

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  j  hie  home. 

Hel.  Pray,  sir,  your  pardon. 

Ber.  Well,  what  would  you  say  ? 

Hel.  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  wealth  I  owe  ; 2 
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. — 


1  And  rather  muse,  &c]     To  muse  is  to  wonder.     So,  in 
Macbeth : 

"  Do  not  muse  at  me,  my  most  noble  friends." 

Steevens. 

• the  wealth  I  owe ;]  i.  e.  /  own,  possess.    Steevens. 


sc.  v.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  305 

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.  Where  are  my  other  men,  monsieur  ?—» 

Farewell.3  [Exit  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 ! 

\_Exeunt. 

3  Where  are  my  other  men,  monsieur  ? — Farewell.]     In  for- 
mer copies : 

Hel.  Where  are  my  other  men  ?  Monsieur,  farewell. 
What  other  men  is  Helen  here  enquiring  after  ?  Or  who  is  she 
supposed  to  ask  for  them?  The  old  Countess,  'tis  certain,  did 
not  send  her  to  the  court  without  some  attendants :  but  neither 
the  Clown,  nor  any  of  her  retinue,  are  now  upon  the  stage : 
Bertram,  observing  Helen  to  linger  fondly,  and  wanting  to  shift 
her  off,  puts  on  a  show  of  haste,  asks  Parolles  for  his  servants, 
and  then  gives  his  wife  an  abrupt  dismission.     Theobald. 


T0L.  VIII, 


306  ALL'S  WELL  act  ui. 

ACT   III.      SCENE   I. 

Florence.     A  Room  in  the  Duke's  Palace, 

Flourish.     Enter  the  Duke  of  Florence,  attended ; 
two  French  Lords,  and  others. 

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. 

1  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. 

2  Lord.  Good  my  lord, 
The  reasons  of  our  state  I  cannot  yield,4 

But  like  a  common  and  an  outward  man,5 


*  I  cannot  yield,]     I  cannot  inform  you  of  the  reasons. 

Johnson. 

Thus,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  t 

**  If  you  say  so,  villain,  thou  kill'st  thy  mistress: 

**  But  well  aid  free, 

"  If  thou  so  yield  him,  there  is  gold — ."     Steevens. 

* an  outward  man,]  i.  e.  one  not  in  the  secret  of  affairs. 

Warburton. 

So,  inward  is  familiar,  admitted  to  secrets.     "  I  was  an  in- 
tcnrrfofhis."     Measure  for  Measure.    Johnson. 


sc.  i.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  307 

That  the  great  figure  of  a  council  frames 
By  self-unable  motion  : 6  therefore  dare  not 
Say  what  I  think  of  it ;  since  I  have  found 
Myself  in  my  uncertain  grounds  to  fail 
As  often  as  I  guess'd. 

Duke.  Be  it  his  pleasure. 

2  Lord.  But  I  am  sure,  the  younger  of  our  na- 
ture,7 
That  surfeit  on  their  ease,  will,  day  by  day, 
Come  here  for  physick. 

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.     Exeunt. 

6  By  self-unable  motion:]  We  should  read  notion. 

Warburton. 

This  emendation  has  also  been  recommended  by  Mr.  Upton. 

Steevens. 

7 the  younger  of  our  nature,]  i.  e.  as  we  say  at  present, 

our  young  Jelloivs.    The  modern  editors  read — nation.    I  have 
restored  the  old  reading.     Steevens. 


x2 


308  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

SCENE  II. 

Rousillon.     A  Room  in  the  Countess's  Palace, 

Enter  Countess  and  Clown. 

Count.  It  hath  happened  all  as  I  would  have 
had  it,  save,  that  he  conies  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 ; 8  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.9 

Count.  Let  me  see  what  he  writes,  and  when 
he  means  to  come.  [Opening  a  letter. 

*  Clo.  Why,  he  xvill  look  upon  his  boot,  and  sing;  mend  the 
ruff,  and  sing  ;]  The  tops  of  the  boots,  in  our  author's  time, 
turned  down,  and  hung  loosely  over  the  leg.  The  folding  is 
what  the  Clown  means  by  the  ruff.  Ben  Jonson  calls  it  ruffe  ; 
and  perhaps  it  should  be  so  here.  "  Not  having  leisure  to  put 
off  my  silver  spurs,  one  of  the  rowels  catch'd  hold  of  the  ruffle 
of  my  boot."     Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  Act  IV.  sc.  vi. 

Whalley. 

To  this  fashion  Bishop  Earle  alludes  in  his  Characters,  1638, 
sign.  E  10:  "  He  has  learnt  to  ruffle  his  face  from  his  boote ; 
and  takes  great  delight  in  his  walk  to  heare  his  spurs  gingle." 

Malone. 

9  sold  a  goodly  manor  for  a  song.']     Thus  the  modern 

editors.  The  old  copy  reads — hold  a  goodly  &c.  The  emenda- 
tion, however,  which  was  made  in  the  third  folio,  seems  ne- 
cessary.   Steevens. 


sc.  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  309 

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  o'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.  E'en  that1  you  have  there.  [Exit. 

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  hear,  I  am  run 
away ;  know  it,  before  the  report  come.  If  there 
be  breadth  enough  in  the  world,  I  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.  O  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  j  your  son  will  not  be  killed  so  soon 
as  I  thought  he  would. 

1  Clo.  E'en  that—  ]  Old  copy— In  that.  Corrected  by  Mr. 
Theobald.    Malone. 


310  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

Count.  Why  should  he  be  kill'd? 

Clo.  So  say  I,  madam,  if  he  run  away,  as  I  hear 
he  does :  the  danger  is  in  standing  to't  j  that's  the 
loss  of  men,  though  it  be  the  getting  of  children. 
Here  they  come,  will  tell  you  more :  for  my  part, 
I  only  hear,  your  son  was  run  away.  [Exit  Clown. 

Enter  Helena  and  two  Gentlemen. 

1  Gen.  Save  you,  good  madam. 

Hel.  Madam,  my  lord  is  gone,  for  ever  gone. 

2  Gen.  Do  not  say  so. 

Count.  Think  upon  patience. — 'Pray  you,  gen- 
tlemen,— 
I  have  felt  so  many  quirks  of  joy,  and  grief, 
That  the  first  face  of  neither,  on  the  start, 
Can  woman  me2  unto't: — Where  is  my  son,  I  pray 
you? 

2  Gen.  Madam,  he's  gone  to  serve  the  duke  of 
Florence: 
We  met  him  thitherward;  from  thence  we  came, 
And,  after  some  despatch  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?  which  never  shall  come  off,  and  show 

*  Can  woman  me — ]  i.  e.  affect  me  suddenly  and  deeply,  as 
my  sex  are  usually  affected.     Steevens. 

*  When  thou  canst  get  the  ring  upon  my  finger ,]  i.  e.  When 
thou  canst  get  the  ring,  which  is  on  my  finger,  into  thy  possession. 
The  Oxford  editor,  who  took  it  the  other  way,  to  signify,  when 


sa  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  311 

me  a  child  begotten  of  thy  body,  that  I  am 
father  to,  then  call  me  husband:  but  in  such  a 
then  /  write  a  never. 
This  is  a  dreadful  sentence. 

Count.  Brought  you  this  letter,  gentlemen  ? 

1  Gen.  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  : 4  He  was  my  son; 
But  I  do  wash  his  name  out  of  my  blood, 
And  thou  art  all  my  child. — Towards  Florence  is 
he? 

2  Gen.  Ay,  madam. 

Count.  And  to  be  a  soldier  ? 

2  Gen.  Such  is  his  noble  purpose:  and,  believe't, 
The  duke  will  lay  upon  him  all  the  honour 
That  good  convenience  claims. 

thou  canst  get  it  on  upon  my  finger,  very  sagaciously  alters  it 
to — When  thou  canst  get  the  ring  from  myjinger. 

Warburton. 
I  think  Dr.  Warburton's  explanation  sufficient;  but  I  once 
read  it  thus:   When  thou  canst  get  the  ring  upon  thy  finger, 
which  never  shall  come  o^mine.     Johnson. 

Dr.  Warburton's  explanation  is  confirmed  incontestibly  by 
these  lines  in  the  fifth  Act,  in  which  Helena  again  repeats  the 
substance  of  this  letter : 

" there  is  your  ring; 

"  And,  look  you,  here's  your  letter ;  this  it  says : 
"  When  from  myjinger  you  can  get  this  ring"  &c. 

Malone. 
4  If  thou  engrossest  all  the  griefs  are  thine, 
Thou  robb'st  me  of  a  moiety:"]     We  should  certainly  read: 

all  the  griefs  as  thine, 

instead  of — are  thine.    M.  Mason. 

This  sentiment  is  elliptically  expressed,  but,  I  believe,  means 
no  more  than — If  thou  keepest  all  thy  sorrows  to  thyself;  i.  e. 
"  all  the  griefs  that  are  thine,"  &c.    ISteevens. 


312  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

Count.  Return  you  thither  ? 

1  Gen.  Ay,  madam,  with  the  swiftest  wing  of 
speed. 

Hel.  [Reads.]  Till  I  have  no  wife,  I  have  no- 
thing in  France. 

Tis  bitter. 

Count.  Find  you  that  there  ? 

Hel.  Ay,  madam. 

1  Gen.  '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  ? 

1  Gen.  A  servant  only,  and  a  gentleman 
Which  I  have  some  time  known. 

Count.  Parolles,  was't  not  ? 

1  Gen.  Ay,  my  good  lady,  he. 

Count.  A  very  tainted  fellow,  and  full  of  wick- 
edness. 
My  son  corrupts  a  well-derived  nature 
With  his  inducement. 

1  Gen.  Indeed,  good  lady, 

The  fellow  has  a  deal  of  that,  too  much, 
Which  holds  him  much  to  have.5 


*  ■      ■  a  deal  of  that,  too  much, 
Which  holds  him  much  to  have.~\     That  is,  his  vices  stand 
him  in  stead.    Helen  had  before  delivered  this  thought  in  all  the 
beauty  of  expression : 


sfc  //.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  sis 

Count.  You  are  welcome,  gentlemen, 
I  will  entreat  you,  when  you  see  my  son, 
To  tell  him,  that  his  sword  can  never  win 
The  honour  that  he  loses :  more  I'll  entreat  you 
Written  to  bear  along. 

2  Gen.  We  serve  you,  madam, 

In  that  and  all  your  worthiest  affairs. 

Count.  Not  so,  but  as  we  change  our  courtesies.6 
Will  you  draw  near  ? 

\_Exeunt  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  none-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  ?  O  you  leaden  messengers, 
That  ride  upon  the  violent  speed  of  fire, 
Fly  with  false  aim ;  move  the  still-piecing  air, 

" 1  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  in  the  cold  wind — ."     Warburton. 

Mr.  Heath  thinks  that  the  meaning  is,  this  fellow  hath  a  deal 
too  much  of  that  which  alone  can  hold  or  judge  that  he  has 
much  in  him ;  i.  e.  folly  and  ignorance.     Malone. 

6  Not  so,  &c]  The  gentlemen  declare  ehat  they  are  servants 
to  the  Countess ;  she  replies, — No  otherwise  than  as  she  returns 
the  same  offices  of  civility.    Johnson. 


314  ALL'S  WELL  act  hi. 

That  sings  with  piercing,7  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  it ; 
And,  though  I  kill  him  not,  I  am  the  cause 
His  death  was  so  effected:  better  'twere, 
I  met  the  ravin  lion 8  when  he  roar'd 
With  sharp  constraint  of  hunger ;  better  'twere 
That  all  the  miseries,  which  nature  owes, 


7 move  the  still-piecing  air, 

That  sings   with  piercing,]      The   words  are  here   oddi- 
sh uffled  into  nonsense.     We  should  read  : 

pierce  the  still-moving  air, 

That  sings  with  piercing. 
i.  e.  pierce  the  air,  which  is  in  perpetual  motion,  and  suffers  no 
injury  by  piercing.     Warburton. 

The  old  copy  reads — the  sti\\-peering  air. 
Perhaps  we  might  better  read  : 

the  still-piecing  air, 

i.  e.  the  air  that  closes  immediately.     This  has  been  proposed 
already,  but  I  forget  by  whom.     Steevens. 

Piece  was  formerly  spelt — peece:  so  that  there  is  but  the  change 
of  one  letter.     See  Twelfth- Night,  first  folio,  p.  262 : 

"  Now,  good  Cesario,  but  that  peece  of  song — ." 

Maloke. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  still-piecing  was  Shakspeare's  word. 
But  the  passage  is  not  yet  quite  sound.  We  should  read,  I  be- 
lieve, 

'     ■    rove  the  still-piecing  air. 
i.  e.  Jly  at  random  through.     The  allusion  is  to  shooting  at  ro- 
vers in  archery,  which  was  shooting  without  any  particular  aim. 

Tyrwhitt. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  reading  destroys  the  designed  antithesis  be- 
tween move  and  still;  nor  is  he  correct  in  his  definition  of  rov- 
ing, which  is  not  shooting  without  a  particular  aim,  but  at  marks 
of  uncertain  lengths.     Douce. 

*  the  ravin  lion  — ]  i.  e.  the  ravenous  or  ravening  lion. 

To  ravin  is  to  swallow  voraciously.     Malone. 

See  Macbeth,  Act  IV.  sc.  i.     Steevens. 


sen.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  S15 

Were  mine  at  once  :  No,  come  thou  home,  Rou- 

sillon, 
Whence  honour  but  of  danger  wins  a  scar,9 
As  oft  it  loses  all ;  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  rumour  may  report  my  flight, 
To  consolate  thine  ear.     Come,  night ;  end,  day ! 
For,  with  the  dark,  poor  thief,  I'll  steal  away. 

[Exit. 

9  Whence  honour  but  of  danger  &c]  The  sense  is,  from  that 
abode,  where  all  the  advantages  that  honour  usually  reaps  from 
the  danger  it  rushes  upon,  is  only  a  scar  in  testimony  of  its 
bravery,  as,  on  the  other  hand,  it  often  is  the  cause  of  losing  all, 
even  life  itself.    Heath. 


316  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

SCENE    III. 

Florence.     Before  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Flourish.     Enter  the  Duke  of  Florence,  Bertram, 
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  the  extreme  edge  of  hazard.1 

Dvke.  Then  go  thou  forth ; 

And  fortune  play  upon  thy  prosperous  helm,2 
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.  \Exeunt. 

1  We'll  strive  to  bear  it  for  your  worthy  sake, 
To  the  extreme  edge  of  hazard^    So,  in  our  author's  1 16th 
Sonnet : 

"  But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom."  Malone. 

Milton  has  borrowed  this  expression ;  Par.  Reg.  B.  I: 
"  You  see  our  danger  on  the  utmost  edge 
"  Of  hazard."     Steevens. 

■  And  fortune  play  upon  thy  prosperous  helm,]  So,  in  King 
Richard  III: 

"  Fortune  and  victory  sit  on  thy  helm  /" 
Again,  in  King  John  : 

"  And  victory  with  little  loss  doth  play 

"  Upon  the  dancing  banners  of  the  French."  Steevens. 


sc.  iv.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  317 

SCENE  IV. 

Rousillon.     A  Room  in  the  Countess's  Palace. 

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.  /  am  Saint  Jaques'  pilgrim?  thither  gone; 

Ambitious  love  hath  so  in  me  offended, 
That  bare-foot  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. 

3 Saint  Jaques'  pilgrim,]  I  do  not  remember  any  place 

famous  for  pilgrimages  consecrated  in  Italy  to  St.  James,  but  it 
is  common  to  visit  St.  James  of  Compostella,  in  Spain.  Another 
saint  might  easily  have  been  found,  Florence  being  somewhat  out 
of  the  road  from  Rousillon  to  Compostella.     Johnson. 

From  Dr.  Heylin's  France  painted  to  the  Life,  8vo.  1656, 
p.  270,  276,  we  learn  that  at  Orleans  was  a  church  dedicated  to 
St.  Jacques,  to  which  Pilgrims  formerly  used  to  resort,  to  adore  a 
part  of  the  cross  pretended  to  be  found  there.     Reed. 

♦ , — —  Juno,~\  Alluding  to  the  story  of  Hercules.    Johnson. 


3 1 8  ALL'S  WELL  act  iii. 

Count.  Ah,  what  sharp  stings  are  in  her  mildest 

words ! 

Rinaldo,  you  did  never  lack  advice  so  much,5 
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  in  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  :6  my  greatest  grief, 
Though  little  he  do  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. 

[Exeunt. 

*  — —  lack  advice  so  much,"]    Advice,  is  discretion  or  thought. 

Johnson. 
So,  in  King  Henry  V: 

"  And,  on  his  more  advice  we  pardon  him."    Steevens. 

6  That  he  does  weigh  too  light:"}  To  weigh  here  means  to 
value,  or  esteem.     So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost : 

"  You  tueigk  me  not,  O,  that's  you  care  not  for  me." 

Malone. 


sc.  v.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  319 

SCENE  V. 

Without  the  Walls  OyfFlorence. 

A  tucket  afar  off.  Enter  an  old  Widow  of  Flo- 
rence, Diana,  Violenta,  Mariana,  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  great- 
est commander :  and  that  with  his  own  hand  he 
slew  the  duke's  brother.  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. 

Ww.  I  have  told  my  neighbour,  how  you  have 
been  solicited  by  a  gentleman  his  companion. 

Mar.  I  know  that  knave  ;  hang  him !  one  Pa- 
rolles  :  a  filthy  officer  he  is  in  those  suggestions  for 
the  young  earl.7 — Beware  of  them,  Diana ;  their 
promises,  enticements,  oaths,  tokens,  and  all  these 

7 those  suggestions  for  the  young  earl.']  Suggestions  are 

temptations.     So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost  : 

"  Suggestions  are  to  others  as  to  me."     Steevens. 


820  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

engines  of  lust,  are  not  the  things  they  go  under  :8 
many  a  maid  hath  been  seduced  by  them ;  and  the 
misery  is,  example,  that  so  terrible  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  further  ;  but,  I  hope,  your  own  grace  will  keep 
you  where  you  are,  though  there  were  no  further 
danger  known,  but  the  modesty  which  is  so  lost. 

Dia,  You  shall  not  need  to  fear  me. 


Enter  Helena,  in  the  dress  of  a  Pilgrim. 

Win.  I  hope  so. Look,  here  comes  a  pil- 
grim :  I  know  she  will  lie  at  my  house:  thither  they 
send  one  another  :  I'll  question  her. — 
God  save  you,  pilgrim  !  Whither  are  you  bound  ? 

Hel.  To  Saint  Jaques  le  grand. 
WThere  do  the  palmers 9  lodge,  I  do  beseech  you  ? 

Wid.  At  the  Saint  Francis  here,  beside  the  port. 

8 are  not  the  things  they  go  under  .•]   They  are  not  really 

so  true  and  sincere,  as  in  appearance  they  seem  to  be. 

Theobald. 

To  go  under  the  name  of  any  thing  is  a  known  expression. 
The  meaning  is,  they  are  not  the  things  for  which  their  names 
would  make  them  pass.     Johnson. 

9 palmers — ]  Pilgrims  that  visited  holy  places;  so  called 

from  a  staff,  or  bough  of  palm  they  were  wont  to  carry,  espe- 
cially such  as  had  visited  the  holy  places  at  Jerusalem.  "  A  pil- 
grim and  a  palmer  differed  thus :  a  pilgrim  had  some  dwelling- 
place,  the  palmer  none ;  the  pilgrim  travelled  to  some  certain 
place,  the  palmer  to  all,  and  not  to  any  one  in  particular;  the 
pilgrim  might  go  at  his  own  charge,  the  palmer  must  profess 
wilful  poverty ;  the  pilgrim  might  give  over  his  profession,  the 
palmer  must  be  constant,  till  he  had  the  palm  ;  that  is,  victory 
over  his  ghostly  enemies,  and  life  by  death."  Blount's  Glosso- 
graphy,  voce  Pilgrim.     Reed. 


sc\  v.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  331 

Hel.  Is  this  the  way  ? 

WlD.  Ay,  marry,  is  it. — Hark  you ! 

•  \_A  march  afar  off. 
They  come  this  way : — If  you  will  tarry,  holy  pil- 
grim,1 
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? 

Win.  If  you  shall  please  so,  pilgrim. 

Hel.  I  thai\k  you,  and  will  stay  upon  your  lei- 
sure. 

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. 

Dia.  Whatsoe'er  he  is, 

He's  bravely  taken  here.     He  stole  from  France, 
As  'tis  reported,  for  the  king2  had  married  him 
Against  his  liking :  Think  you  it  is  so  ? 

1 holy  pilgrim.]    The  interpolated  epithet  holy,  which 

adds  nothing  to  our  author's  sense,  and  is  injurious  to  his  metre, 
may  be  safely  omitted.     Steevens. 

* for  the  kins  &c]  For,  in  the  present  instance,  signifies 

because.     So,  in  Othello  : 

" 1  and  great  business  scant, 

"  For  she  is  with  me."     Steevens. 

VOL.  VIII.  Y 


822  ALL'S  WELL  act  m. 

Hel.  Ay,  surely,  mere  the  truth  ;3  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.  O,  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 
Is  a  reserved  honesty,  and  that 
I  have  not  heard  examin'd.4 

Dia.  Alas,  poor  lady ! 

'Tis  a  hard  bondage,  to  become  the  wife 
Of  a  detesting  lord. 

Wib.  A  right  good  creature:5  wheresoe'er  she  is, 

3 mere  the  truth ;]  The  exact,  the  entire  truth. 

Malone. 
4  — —  examiri' d.~\  That  is,  questioned,  doubted.    Johnson. 

*  A  right  good  creature:']  There  is  great  reason  to  believe, 
that  when  these  plays  were  copied  for  the  press,  the  transcriber 
trusted  to  the  ear,  and  not  to  the  eye ;  one  person  dictating,  and 
another  transcribing.  Hence,  probably,  the  error  of  the  old 
copy,  which  reads — /  write  good  creature.  For  the  emendation 
now  made  I  am  answerable.  The  same  expression  is  found  in 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  1634»: 

"  A  right  good  creature  more  to  me  deserving,"  &c. 

Malone. 
Perhaps,  Shakspeare  wrote — 

/  weet,  good  creature,  whereso*er  she  is, — 
i.  e.  I  know,  I  am  well  assured.    He  uses  the  word  in  Antony 
and  Cleopatra.     Thus  also,  Prior : 

"  But  well  I  weet,  thy  cruel  wrong 

"  Adorns  a  nobler  poet's  song."     Steevens. 

I  should  prefer  the  old  reading  to  this  amendment.  /  write 
good  creature,  may  well  mean,  I  set  her  down  as  a  good  creature. 
The  widow  could  not  well  assert,  that  a  woman  was  a  right 
good  creature,  that  she  had  never  seen  before.     M.  Mason. 


sc.  v.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  323 

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. 

Win.  He  does,  indeed ; 

And  brokes6  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. 

TLnter  with  drum  and  colours,  a  party  of  the  Flo- 
rentine army,  Bertram,  and  Parolles. 

Mar.  The  gods  forbid  else ! 

Win,  So,  now  they  come : — 

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 
gentleman  ? 

Hel.  I  like  him  well. 

Dia,  'Tis  pity,  he  is  not  honest :  Yond's  that 
same  knave, 

8       ■    brokes — ]  Deals  as  a  broker.    Johnson. 

To  broke  is  to  deal  with  panders.  A  broker,  in  our  author's 
time,  meant  a  bawd  or  pimp.  See  a  note  on  Hamlet,  Act  I. 
sc.  iii.    Malone. 

Y2 


324  ALPS  WELL  act  in. 

That  leads  him  to  these  places  j7  were  I  his  lady, 
I'd  poison  that  vile  rascal. 

Hel.  Which  is  he  ? 

Dia.  That  jack-an-apes  with  scarfs :    Why  is  he 
melancholy  ? 

Hel.  Perchance  he's  hurt  i'the  battle. 

Par.  Lose  our  drum !  well. 

Mar.  He's  shrewdly  vex'd  at  something :  Look, 
he  has  spied  us. 

Win.  Marry,  hang  you ! 

Mar.  And  your  courtesy,  for  a  ring-carrier ! 

[Exeunt  Bertram,  Parolles,  Officers, 
and  Soldiers. 

WlD.  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  Jaques  bound, 
Already  at  my  house. 

Hel.  I  humbly  thank  you : 

Please  it  this  matron,  and  this  gentle  maid, 
To  eat  with  us  to-night,  the  charge,  and  thanking, 
Shall  be  for  me ;  and,  to  requite  you  further, 


7  i  i  ■     Yond's  that  same  knave, 
That  leads  him  to  these  places ;]    What  places  ?  Have  they 
been  talking  of  brothels ;  or,  indeed,  of  any  particular  locality  ? 
I  make  no  question  but  our  author  wrote  : 

That  leads  him  to  these  paces, 
i.  e.  such  irregular  steps,  to  courses  of  debauchery,  to  not  loving 
his  wife.    Theobald. 

The  places  are,  apparently,  where  he 

*'  — —  brokes  with  all,  that  can  in  such  a  suit 

"  Corrupt  the  tender  honour  of  a  maid."    Stee  vens. 


sc.  vi.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  395 

I  will  bestow  some  precepts  on  this*  virgin, 
Worthy  the  note. 

Both.  We'll  take  your  offer  kindly. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  VI. 

Camp  before  Florence. 
Enter  Bertram,  and  the  two  French  Lords. 

1  Lord.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  put  him  to't ;  let 
him  have  his  way. 

2  Lord.  If  your  lordship  find  him  not  a  hilding,9 
hold  me  no  more  in  your  respect. 

1  Lord.  On  my  life,  my  lord,  a  bubble. 

Ber.  Do  you  think,  I  am  so  far  deceived  in  him  ? 

1  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  infi- 
nite and  endless  liar,  an  hourly  promise-breaker,  the 
owner  of  no  one  good  quality  worthy  your  lordship's 
entertainment. 

2  Lord.  It  were  fit  you  knew  him ;  lest,  reposing 
too  far  in  his  virtue,  which  he  hath  not,  he  might, 


• on  this  — ]  Old  copy — o/'this.  Corrected  in  the  second 

folio.     Malone. 

9 a  hilding,]  A  hilding  is  a  paltry,  cowardly  fellow.   So, 

in  King  Henry  V : 

"  To  purge  the  field  from  such  a  hilding  foe." 

Stbevens. 

See  note  on  The  Second  Part  ofK.  Henry  IV.  Act  I.  sc.  i. 

Reejd. 


326  ALL'S  WELL  act  m. 

at  some  great  and  trusty  business, in  a  main  danger, 
fail  you. 

Ber.  I  would,  I  knew  in  what  particular  action 
to  try  him. 

2  Lord,  None  better  than  to  let  him  fetch  off 
his  drum,  which  you  hear  him  so  confidently  un- 
dertake to  do. 

1  Lord.  I,  with  a  troop  of  Florentines,  will  sud- 
denly surprize  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 
adversaries,9  when  we  bring  him  to  our  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  any  thing. 

2  Lord.  O  for  the  love  of  laughter,  let  him  fetch 
his  drum ;  he  says,  he  has  a  stratagem  for't :  when 
your  lordship  sees  the  bottom  of  his  *  success  in't, 
and  to  what  metal  this  counterfeit  lump  of  ore  * 


9 he's  carried  into  the  leaguer  of  the  adversaries,"]  i.  e. 

camp.  *  They  will  not  vouchsafe  in  their  speaches  or  writings 
to  use  our  ancient  termes  belonging  to  matters  of  warre,  but  doo 
call  a  campe  by  the  Dutch  name  of  Legar;  nor  will  not  affoord 
to  say,  that  such  a  towne  or  such  a  fort  is  besieged,  but  that  it 
is  belegard."     Sir  John  Smythe's  Discourses,  &c.  1590,  fo.  2. 

Douce. 

1 of  'his  — ]  Old  copy— of  this.   Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

Malone. 

*——  of  ore — ]   Old  copy — of  ours.    Malone. 

Lump  of  ours  has  been  the  reading  of  all  the  editions.     Ore, 
according  to  my  emendation,  bears  a  consonancy  with  the 


sc.  vi.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  327 

will  be  melted,  if  you  give  him  not  John  Drum's 
entertainment,3  your  inclining  cannot  be  removed. 
Here  he  comes. 


other  terms  accompanying,  (viz.  metal,  lump,  and  melted,)  and 
helps  the  propriety  of  the  poet's  thought :  for  so  one  metaphor 
is  kept  up,  and  all  the  words  are  proper  and  suitable  to  it. 

%  Theobald. 

8 if  you  give  him  not  John  Drum's  entertainment,]  But, 

what  is  the  meaning  of  John  Drum's  entertainment?  Lafeu 
several  times  afterwards  calls  Parolles,  Tom  Drum.  But  the 
difference  of  the  Christian  name  will  make  none  in  the  explana- 
tion. There  is  an  old  motley  interlude,  (printed  in  1601,) 
called  Jack  Drum's  Entertainment ;  or,  The  Comedy  qfPasquil 
and  Catharine.  In  this,  Jack  Drum  is  a  servant  of  intrigue,  who 
is  ever  aiming  at  projects,  and  always  foiled,  and  given  the  drop. 
And  there  is  another  old  piece,  (published  in  1627,)  called, 
Apollo  shroving,  in  which  I  find  these  expressions : 

"  Thuriger.  Thou  lozel,  hath  Slug  infected  you  ? 
"  Why  do  you  give  such  kind  entertainment  to  that  cobweb  ? 

"  Scopas.  It  shall  have  Tom  Drum's  entertainment:  a  flap 
with  a  fox-tail." 

Both  these  pieces  are,  perhaps,  too  late  in  time,  to  come  to 
the  assistance  of  our  author :  so  we  must  look  a  little  higher. 
What  is  said  here  to  Bertram  is  to  this  effect :  "  My  lord,  as  you 
have  taken  this  fellow  [Parolles]  into  so  near  a  confidence,  if, 
upon  his  being  found  a  counterfeit,  you  don't  cashier  him  from 
your  favour,  then  your  attachment  is  not  to  be  removed."  I 
will  now  subjoin  a  quotation  Irom  Holinshed,  (of  whose  books 
Shakspeare  was  a  most  diligent  reader,)  which  will  pretty  well 
ascertain  Drum's  history.  This  chronologer,  in  his  description 
of  Ireland,  speaking  of  Patrick  Sarsefield,  (mayor  of  Dublin  in 
the  year  1551,)  and  of  his  extravagant  hospitality,  subjoins,, 
that  no  guest  had  ever  a  cold  or  forbidding  look  from  any  part 
of  his  family :  so  that  his  porter,  or  any  other  officer,  durst  not, 
for  both  his  eares,  give  the  simplest  man  that  resorted  to  his 
house,  Tom  Drum  his  entertaynement,  which  is,  to  hale  a  man  in 
by  the  heade,  and  thrust  him  out  by  both  the  shoulders. 

Theobald. 

A  contemporary  writer  has  used  this  expression  in  the  same 
manner  that  our  author  has  done  ;  so  that  there  is  no  reason  to 
suspect  the  word  John  in  the  text  to  be  a  misprint :  "  In  faith 
good  gentlemen,  I  think  we  shall  be  forced  to  give  you  right 
John  Drum's  entertainment,  [i.  e.  to  treat  you  very  ill,]  for  he 


328  ALL'S  WELL  act  m. 


Enter  Parolles. 

1  Lord,  O,  for  the  love  of  laughter,  hinder  not 
the  humour  of  his  design ;  let  him  fetch  off  his 
drum  in  any  hand.* 

Ber.  How  now,  monsieur  ?  this  drum  sticks 
sorely  in  your  disposition. 

2  Lord.  A  pox  on't  let  it  go ;  'tis  but  a  drum. 

Par.  But  a  drum !  Is't  but  a  drum  ?  A  drum  so 
lost! — There  was  an  excellent  command!  to  charge 
in  with  our  horse  upon  our  own  wings,  and  to  rend 
our  own  soldiers. 

2  Lord.  That  was  not  to  be  blamed  in  the  com- 
mand of  the  service ;  it  was  a  disaster  of  war  that 
Caesar  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. 


that  composed  the  book  we  should  present,  hath — snatched  it 
from  us  at  the  very  instant  of  entrance."  Introduction  to  Jack 
Drum's  Entertainment,  a  comedy,  1601.     Malone. 

Again,  in  Taylor's  Laugh  and  he  fat,  78  : 

"  And  whither  now  is  Monsr  Odcome  come 

"  Who  on  his  owne  backe-side  receiv'd  his  pay  ? 
"  Not  like  the  Entertainmt  qfjacke  Drum, 

"  Who  was  best  welcome  when  he  went  away." 
Again,  in  Manners  and  Customs  of  all  Nations,  by  Ed.  Aston, 
1611,  4-to.  p.  280:  "  — some  others  on  the  contrarie  part,  give 
them  John  Drum's  intertainmt  reviling  and  beating  them  away 
from  their  houses,"  &c.     Ree£>. 

4 in   any  hand.]    The   usual  phrase  is — at  any  hand, 

but  in  any  hand  will  do.  It  is  used  in  Holland's  Pliny,  p.  456: 
"  he  must  be  a  free  citizen  of  Rome  in  any  hand.1'  Again, 
p.  508,  553, 546.    Steevens. 


sc.  vi.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  329 

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  an- 
other, or  hicjacet? 

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  na- 
tive quarter,  be  magnanimous  in  the  enterprize, 
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  further  be- 
comes his  greatness,  even  to  the  utmost  syllable  of 
your  worthiness. 

Par.  By  the  hand  of  a  soldier,  I  will  under- 
take it. 

Ber.  But  you  must  not  now  slumber  in  it. 

Par.  I'll  about  it  this  evening :  and  I  will  pre- 
sently pen  down  my  dilemmas,6  encourage  myself 
in  my  certainty,  put  myself  into  my  mortal  prepa- 

*  — —  /  would  have  that  drum  or  another,  or  hie  jacet.]  i.  e. 
Here  lies; — the  usual  beginning  of  epitaphs.  I  would  (says 
Parolles)  recover  either  the  drum  I  have  lost,  or  another  be- 
longing to  the  enemy ;  or  die  in  the  attempt.     Malone. 

6  — —  /  will  presently  pen  down  my  dilemmas,]  By  this 
word,  Parolles  is  made  to  insinuate  that  he  had  several  ways, 
all  equally  certain,  of  recovering  his  drum.  For  a  dilemma  is 
an  argument  that  concludes  both  ways.     Warburton. 

Shakspeare  might  have  found  the  word  thus  used  in  Holinshed. 

Steevens. 

I  think,  that  by  penning  down  his  dilemmas,  Parolles  means, 
that  he  will  pen  down  his  plans  on  the  one  side,  and  the  proba- 
ble obstructions  he  was  to  meet  with,  on  the  other. 

M.  Mason. 


330  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

ration,  and,   by  midnight,  look  to  hear  further 
from  me. 

Ber.  May  I  be  bold  to  acquaint  his  grace,  you 
are  gone  about  it  ? 

Par.  I  know  not  what  the  success  will  be,  my 
lord ;  but  the  attempt  I  vow. 

Ber.  I  know,  thou  art  valiant;  and,  to  the 
possibility  of  thy  soldiership,7  will  subscribe  for 
thee.     Farewell. 

Par.  I  love  not  many  words.  [Exit. 

1  Lord.  No  more  than  a  fish  loves  water.8 — 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 ;  damns  himself  to  do, 
and  dares  better  be  damned  than  to  do't. 

2  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 ;  but  when  you  find  him  out,  you 
have  him  ever  after. 


7  possibility  of  thy  soldiership,"]     I  xvill  subscribe  (says 

Bertram)  to  the  possibility  of  your  soldiership.  His  doubts 
being  now  raised,  he  suppresses  that  he  should  not  be  so  willing 
to  vouch  for  its  probability.     Steevens. 

I  believe  Bertram  means  no  more  than  that  he  is  confident 
Parolles  will  do  all  that  soldiership  can  effect.  He  was  not  yet 
certain  that  he  was  "  a  hilding."     Malone. 

8  Par.  /  love  not  many  words. 

1  Lord.  No  more  than  a  Jish  loves  'water.']  Here  we  have 
the  origin  of  this  boaster's  name;  which,  without  doubt,  (as 
Mr.  Steevens  has  observed,)  ought,  in  strict  propriety,  to  be 
written — Paroles.  But  our  author  certainly  intended  it  other- 
wise, having  made  it  a  trisyllable : 

"  Rust  sword,  cool  blushes,  and  Parolles  live." 
He  probably  did  not  know  the  true  pronunciation.    Malone. 


sc.  vi.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  331 

Ber.  Why,  do  you  think,  he  will  make  no  deed 
at  all  of  this,  that  so  seriously  he  does  address  him- 
self unto  ? 

1  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,9  you  shall 
see  his  fall  to-night ;  for,  indeed,  he  is  not  for  your 
lordship's  respect. 

2  Lord.  We'll  make  you  some  sport  with  the 
fox,  ere  we  case  him.1  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. 

1  Lord.  I  must  go  look  my  twigs ;  he  shall  be 
caught. 

Ber.  Your  brother,  he  shall  go  along  with  me. 

1  Lord.  As't  please  your  lordship:  I'll  leave 
you.2  [Exit. 

' tve  have  almost  embossed  him,~\     To  emboss  a  deer  is 

to  inclose  him  in  a  wood.     Milton  uses  the  same  word : 
**  Like  that  self-begotten  bird 
"  In  the  Arabian  woods  imbost, 
"  Which  no  second  knows  or  third."     Johnson. 
It  is  probable  that  Shakspeare  was  unacquainted  with  this 
word,  in  the  sense  which  Milton  affixes  to  it,  viz.  from  embos- 
care,  Ital.  to  enclose  a  thicket. 

When  a  deer  is  run  hard,  and  foams  at  the  mouth,  in  the 
language  of  the  field,  he  is  said  to  be  embossed.     Steevens. 

"  To  know  when  a  stag  is  weary  (as  Markham's  Country 
Contentments  say)  you  shall  see  him  imbost,  that  is,  foaming 
and  slavering  about  the  mouth  with  a  thick  white  froth,"  &c. 

Tollet. 

1  ere  we  case  him.~\     That  is,  before  we  strip  him  naked# 

Johnson^ 

*  I'll  leave  you."]     This  line  is  given  in  the  old  copy  to 

the  second  lord,  there  called  Captain  G,  who  goes  out;  and 
the  Jirst  lord,  there  called  Captain  E,  remains  with  Bertram. 


332  ALL'S  WELL  act  in. 

Ber.  Now  will  I  lead  you  to  the  house,  and 
show  you 
The  lass  I  spoke  of. 

2  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, 
By  this  same  coxcomb  that  we  have  i'the  wind,3 
Tokens  and  letters  which  she  did  re-send ; 
And  this  is  all  I  have  done:  She's  a  fair  creature; 
Will  you  go  see  her  ? 

2  Lord.  With  all  my  heart,  my  lord. 

\_Exeunt. 

SCENE  VII. 

Florence.     A  Room  in  the  Widow's  House. 

Enter  Helena  and  Widow. 

Hel.  If  you  misdoubt  me  that  I  am  not  she, 
I  know  not  how  I  shall  assure  you  further, 
But  I  shall  lose  the  grounds  I  work  upon.4 

Wid.  Though  my  estate  be  fallen,  I  was  well 
born, 
Nothing  acquainted  with  these  businesses ; 

The  whole  course  of  the  dialogue  shows  this  to  have  been  a 
mistake.     See  p.  326. 

"  1  Lord.  [i.  e.  Captain  E.]  I,  with  a  troop  of  Florentines," 
&c.    Malone. 

3  we  have  i'  the  wind,"]     To  have  one  in  the  wind,  is 

enumerated  as  a  proverbial  saying  by  Ray,  p.  261.     Reed. 

4  But  I  shall  lose  the  grounds  I  work  upon."]  i.  e.  by  discover- 
ing herself  to  the  count.    Wabburton. 


m  vii.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  333 

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  counsel5 1  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. 

Wib.  I  should  believe  you; 

For  you  have  show'd  me  that,  which  well  approves 
You  are  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  wooes  your 

daughter, 
Lays  down  his  wanton  siege  before  her  beauty, 
Resolves  to  carry  her  ;  let  her,  in  fine,  consent, 
As  we'll  direct  her  how  'tis  best  to  bear  it, 
Now  his  important  blood  will  nought  deny6 
That  she'll  demand :  A  ring  the  county  wears,7 
That  downward  hath  succeeded  in  his  house, 
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, 

3  to  your  sworn  counsel — ]     To  your  private  know- 

ledge, after  having  required  from  you  an  oath  of  secrecy. 

Johnson. 

•  Now  his  important  blood  will  nought  deny — ]     Important 
here,  and  elsewhere,  is  importunate.    Johnson. 

So,  Spenser,  in  The  Fairy  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  vi.  st.  29: 
"  And  with  important  outrage  him  assailed." 
Important,  from  the  French  Emportant.     TyrwhItt. 

7     -- the  county  wears.]  i.  e.  the  count.    So,  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  we  have  "  the  county  Paris."    Steevens. 


334  "  ALL'S  WELL  act  hi. 

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,8 
To  marry  her,  I'll  add  three  thousand  crowns 
To  what  is  past  already. 

Wid.  I  have  yielded : 

Instruct  my  daughter  how  she  shall  perse ver, 
That  time  and  place,  with  this  deceit  so  lawful, 
May  prove  coherent.     Every  night  he  comes 
With  musicks  of  all  sorts,  and  songs  compos'd 
To  her  unworthiness :  It  nothing  steads  us, 
To  chide  him  from  our  eaves  j  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 ; 9 
Where  both  not  sin,  and  yet  a  sinful  fact : 
But  let's  about  it.  \_ Exeunt. 

•  after  this,]     The  latter  word  was  added  to  complete 

the  metre,  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.    Malone. 

9  7s  xvicked  meaning  in  a  lawful  deedy 
And  lawful  meaning  in  a  lawful  act;]      To  make  this 
gingling  riddle  complete  in  all  its  parts,  we  should  read  the 
second  line  thus: 

And  laxtful  meaning  in  a  wicked  act ; 
The  sense  of  the  two  lines  is  this:  It  is  a  wicked  meaning 
because  the  woman's  intent  is  to  deceive;  but  a  laxiful  deed, 
because  the  man  enjoys  his  own  wife.    Again,  it  is  a  laxvful 


act  iv,  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  335 

ACT  IV.     SCENE  I. 

Without  the  Florentine  Camp. 

Enter  first  Lord,  "with  five  or  six  Soldiers  in  ambush. 

1  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 

meaning  because  done  by  her  to  gain  her  husband's  estranged 
affection,  but  it  is  a  wicked  act  because  he  goes  intentionally  to 
commit  adultery.  The  riddle  concludes  thus :  Where  both  not 
sin,  and  yet  a  sinful  fact,  i.  e.  Where  neither  of  them  sin,  and 
yet  it  is  a  sinful  fact  on  both  sides;  which  conclusion,  we  see, 
requires  the  emendation  here  made.     Warburton. 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads  in  the  same  sense  : 

Unlawful  meaning  in  a  lawful  act.    Johnson. 

Bertram's  meaning  is  wicked  in  a  lawful  deed,  and  Helen's 
meaning  is  lawful  in  a  lawful  act ;  and  neither  of  them  sin :  yet 
on  his  part  it  was  a  sinful  act,  for  his  meaning  was  to  commit 
adultery,  of  which  he  was  innocent,  as  the  lady  was  his  wife. 

Tollet. 

The  first  line  relates  to  Bertram.  The  deed  was  lawful,  as 
being  the  duty  of  marriage,  owed  by  the  husband  to  the  wife ; 
but  his  meaning  was  wicked,  because  he  intended  to  commit 
adultery.  The  second  line  relates  to  Helena ;  whose  meaning 
was  lawful,  in  as  much  as  she  intended  to  reclaim  her  husband, 
and  demanded  only  the  rights  of  a  wife.  The  act  or  deed  was 
lawful  for  the  reason  already  given.  The  subsequent  line  relates 
to  them  both.  The  fact  was  sinful,  as  far  as  Bertram  was  con- 
cerned, because  he  intended  to  commit  adultery;  yet  neither  he 
nor  Helena  actually  sinned:  not  the  wife,  because  both  her 
intention  and  action  were  innocent ;  not  the  husband,  because 
he  did  not  accomplish  his  intention ;  he  did  not  commit  adul- 
tery.—This  note  is  partly  Mr.  Heath's.    Malone. 


336  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

seem  to  understand  him  ;  unless  some  one  among 
us,  whom  we  must  produce  for  an  interpreter. 
1  Sold.  Good  captain,  let  me  be  the  interpreter. 

1  Lord.  Art  not  acquainted  with  him  ?  knows 
he  not  thy  voice  ? 

1  Sold.  No,  sir,  I  warrant  you. 

1  Lord.  But  what  linsy-woolsy  hast  thou  to 
speak  to  us  again  ? 

1  Sold.  Even  such  as  you  speak  to  me. 

1  Lord.  He  must  think  us  some  band  of  strangers 
i'the  adversary's  entertainment.1  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  :  *  chough's 
language,3  gabble  enough,  and  good  enough.  As 
for  you,  interpreter,  you  must  seem  very  politick. 
But  couch,  ho !  here  he  comes ;  to  beguile  two 
hours  in  a  sleep,  and  then  to  return  and  swear  the 
lies  he  forges. 

1  some  band  of  strangers  i'the  adversary's  entertainment. ,] 

That  is,  foreign  troops  in  the  enemy's  pay.    Johnson. 

*  ■  ■  so  xve  seem  to  knotvy  is  to  knoiv  &c.~]  I  think  the 
meaning  is, — Our  seeming  to  know  what  we  speak  one  to 
another,  is  to  make  him  to  know  our  purpose  immediately  ;  to 
discover  our  design  to  him.  To  knotv,  in  the  last  instance, 
signifies  to  make  knotvn.  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  very  plausibly 
reads — to  shotv  straight  our  purpose.    Malone. 

The  sense  of  this  passage  with  the  context  I  take  to  be  this — 
We  must  each  fancy  a  jargon  for  himself,  without  aiming  to  be 
understood  by  one  another,  for  provided  we  appear  to  under- 
stand, that  will  be  sufficient  for  the  success  of  our  project. 

Henley. 

_*  chough* s  language,]     So,  in  The  Tempest : 

" 1  myself  could  make 

"  A  chough  of  as  deep  chat"    Steevens. 


9C.  L  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  337 


Enter  Parolles. 

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  dis- 
graces 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  crea- 
tures, not  daring  the  reports  of  my  tongue. 

1  Lord.  This  is  the  first  truth  that  e'er  thine 
own  tongue  was  guilty  of.  [Aside. 

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  ?4  Tongue,  I  must  put  you  into  a 
butter-woman's  mouth,  and  buy  another  of  Baja- 
zet's  mule,5  if  you  prattle  me  into  these  perils. 

4  *Ae  instance?]     The  proof.    Johnson. 

5  of  Bajazcfs  mule,]     Dr.   Warburton  would  read — 

tnute.     Malonb. 

As  a  mule  is  as  dumb  by  nature,  as  the  mute  is  by  art,  the 
reading  may  stand.  In  one  of  our  old  Turkish  histories,  there 
is  a  pompous  description  of  Bajazet  riding  on  a  mule  to  the 
Divan.     Steevens. 

Perhaps  there  may  be  here  a  reference  to  the  following 
apologue  mentioned  by  Maitland,  in  one  of  his  despatches  to 
Secretary  Cecil :  "  I  think  yow  have  hard  the  apologue  off  the 
Philosopher  who  for  th*  emperor's  plesure  tooke  upon  him  to 
make  a  Moyle  speak :  In  many  yeares  the  lyke  may  yet  be, 
eyther  that  the  Moyle,  the  Philosopher,  or  Eamperor  may  dye 

VOL.  VIII.  Z 


338  ALL'S  WELL  act  m 

1  Lord.  Is  it  possible,  he  should  know  what  he 
is,  and  be  that  he  is  ?  [Aside, 

Par.  I  would  the  cutting  of  my  garments  would 
serve  the  turn  j  or  the  breaking  of  my  Spanish 
sword. 

1  Lord.  We  cannot  afford  you  so.  [Aside, 

Par.  Or  the  baring  of  my  beard ;  and  to  say, 
it  was  in  stratagem. 

1  Lord.  'Twould  not  do.  [Aside, 

Par.  Or  to  drown  my  clothes,  and  say,  I  was 
stripped. 

1  Lord.  Hardly  serve.  [Aside. 

Par.  Though  I  swore  I  leaped  from  the  window 
of  the  citadel 

1  Lord.  How  deep  ?  [Aside. 

Par.  Thirty  fathom. 

l  Lord.  Three  great  oaths  would  scarce  make 
that  be  believed.  [Aside. 

Par.  I  would,  I  had  any  drum  of  the  enemy's; 
I  would  swear,  I  recovered  it. 

1  Lord.  You  shall  hear  one  anon.  [Aside. 

Par.  A  drum  now  of  the  enemy's ! 

[Alarum  "within. 

1  Lord.  Throca  movousus,  cargo,  cargo,  cargo. 

All.  Cargo,  cargo,  villianda  par  corbo,  cargo. 

Par.  O!  ransome,  ransome  : — Do  not  hide  mine 
eyes.  [Tliey  seize  him  and  blindfold  him. 

1  Sold.  Boskos  thromuldo  boskos. 

before  the  tyme  be  fully  ronne  out."  Haynes's  Collection,  369. 
Parolles  probably  means,  he  must  buy  a  tongue  which  has  still 
to  learn  the  use  of  speech,  that  he  may  run  himself  into  no 
more  difficulties  by  his  loquacity.     Reed. 


sai.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  339 

Par.  I  know  you  are  the  Muskos'  regiment, 
And  I  shall  lose  my  life  for  want  of  language  : 
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. 

1  Sold.  Boskos  vauvado  t 

I  understand  thee,  and  can  speak  thy  tongue  :— 

Kerelybonto : Sir, 

Betake  thee  to  thy  faith,  for  seventeen  poniards 
Are  at  thy  bosom. 

Par.  Oh ! 

1  Sold.  O,  pray,  pray,  pray. 

Manka  revania  dulche. 

1  Lord.  Oscorbi  dulchos  volivorca. 

1  Sold.  The  general  is  content  to  spare  thee  yet; 
And,  hood-wink'd  as  thou  art,  will  lead  thee  on 
To  gather  from  thee  :  haply,  thou  may'st  inform 
Something  to  save  thy  life. 

Par.  O,  let  me  live, 

And  all  the  secrets  of  our  camp  I'll  show, 
Their  force,  their  purposes:  nay,  I'll  speak  that 
Which  you  will  wonder  at. 

1  Sold.  But  wilt  thou  faithfully? 

Par.  If  I  do  not,  damn  me. 

1  Sold.  Acordo  linta. 

Come  on,  thou  art  granted  space. 

[Exit,  with  Parolles  guarded. 

1  Lord.  Go,  tell  the  count  Rousillon,  and  my 

brother, 
We  have  caught  the  woodcock,  and  will  keep  him 

muffled, 
Till  we  do  hear  from  them. 

Z   2 


340  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

2  Sold.  Captain,  I  will 

1  Lord.  He  will  betray  us  all  unto  ourselves; — 
Inform  'em5  that. 

2  Sold.  So  I  will,  sir. 

1  Lord.   Till  then,   I'll  keep  him  dark,  and 
safely  lock'd.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

Florence.     A  Room  in  the  Widow's  House. 

Enter  Bertram  and  Diana. 

Ber.  They  told  me,  that  your  name  was  Fon- 
tibell. 

DlA.  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  ;  ° 

*  Inform  'em — ]     Old  copy — Inform  on.    Corrected  by  Mr. 
Rowe.    Malone. 

•  You  are  no  maiden,  but  a  monument : 

for  you  are  cold  and  stern  ;]     Our  author  had  here, 

probably,  in  his  thoughts  some  of  the  stern  monumental  figures 
with  which  many  churches  in  England  were  furnished  by  the 
rude  sculptors  of  his  own  time.  He  has  again  the  same  allusion 
in  Cymbeline: 

"  And  be  her  sense  but  as  a  monument, 

"  Thus  in  a  chapel  lying."     Malone. 
I  believe  the  epithet  stern  refers  only  to  the  severity  often 
impressed  by  death  on  features  which,  in  their  animated  state, 
were  of  a  placid  turn.     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  341 

And  now  you  should  be  as  your  mother  was, 
When  your  sweet  self  was  got. 

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  of  that! 

I  pr'ythee,  do  not  strive  against  my  vows  : 
I  was  compelPd  to  her  ;7  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. 

Ber.  How  have  I  sworn  ? 

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,8 

7  No  more  of  that! 

I  pr'ythee,  do  not  strive  against  my  vows: 

I  was  compeWd  to  her;~\  Against  his  vows,  I  believe, 
means — against  his  determined  resolution  never  to  cohabit  with 
Helena ;  and  this  vow,  or  resolution,  he  had  very  strongly  ex- 
pressed in  his  letter  to  the  Countess.     Steevens. 

So,  in  Vittoria  Corombona,  a  tragedy,  by  Webster,  1612: 
"  Henceforth  Fll  never  lie  with  thee,- — 
"  My  vow  is  fix'd."     Malone. 

8  What  is  not  holy,  that  we  swear  not  by,"]  The  sense  is — 
We  never  swear  by  what  is  not  holy,  but  swear  by,  or  take  to 
witness,  the  Highest,  the  Divinity.  The  tenor  of  the  reasoning 
contained  in  the  following  lines  perfectly  corresponds  with  this: 
If  I  should  swear  by  Jove's  great  attributes,  that  I  loved  you 
dearly,  would  you  believe  my  oaths,  when  you  found  by  expe- 
rience that  I  loved  you  ill,  and  was  endeavouring  to  gain  cred 


342  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

But  take  the  Highest  to  witness  :  Then,  pray  you, 

tell  me, 
If  I  should  swear  by  Jove's  great  attributes,9 
I  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, 
That  I  will  work  against  him : l  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, 
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  persever. 


with  you  in  order  to  seduce  you  to  your  ruin  ?  No,  surely; 
but  you  would  conclude  that  I  had  no  faith  either  in  Jove  or 
his  attributes,  and  that  my  oaths  were  mere  words  of  course. 
For  that  oath  can  certainly  have  no  tie  upon  us,  which  we  swear 
by  him  we  profess  to  love  and  honour,  when  at  the  same  time 
we  give  the  strongest  proof  of  our  disbelief  in  him,  by  pursuing 
a  course  which  we  know  will  offend  and  dishonour  him.    Heath. 

0  If  I  should  sxvear  by  Jove's  great  attributes,]  In  the  print 
of  the  old  folio,  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  be  Jove's  or  Love's, 
the  characters  being  not  distinguishable.  If  it  is  read  Love's, 
perhaps  it  may  be  something  less  difficult.     I  am  still  at  a  loss. 

Johnson. 

1  To  swear  by  him  whom  I  protest  to  love,  &c]  This  passage 
likewise  appears  to  me  corrupt.  She  swears  not  by  him  whom 
she  loves,  but  by  Jupiter.  I  believe  we  may  read — To  swear  to 
him.  There  is,  says  she,  no  holding,  no  consistency,  in  swear- 
ing to  one  that  /  love  him,  when  I  swear  it  only  to  injure  him. 

Johnson. 

This  appears  to  me  a  very  probable  conjecture.  Mr.  Heath's 
explanation,  which  refers  the  words — "  whom  I  protest  to  love," 
to  Jove,  can  hardly  be  right.     Let  the  reader  judge.   Malonl. 

Majr  we  not  read — 

To  swear  by  him  whom  I  profess  to  love.     HAitRrs. 


sc.  //.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  343 

Dia.  I  see,  that  men  make  hopes,  in  such  affairs,2 
That  we'll  forsake  ourselves.     Give  me  that  ring. 

*  /  see,  that  men  make  hopes,  in  such  affairs,]     The  four  folio 
editions  read : 

— —  make  rope's  in  such  a  scarre. 
The  emendation  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Rowe.    I  find  the  word 
scarre  in   The  Tragedy  of  Hoffman,   1631 ;  but  do  not  readily 
perceive  how  it  can  suit  the  purpose  of  the  present  speaker: 

"  I  know  a  cave,  wherein  the  bright  day's  eye, 

"  Look'd  never  but  ascance,  through  a  small  creeke, 

"  Or  little  cranny  of  the  fretted  scarre  : 

"  There  have  I  sometimes  liv'd,"  &c. 
Again : 

"  Where  is  the  villain's  body  ? 

"  Marry,  even  heaved  over  the  scarr,  and  sent  a  swim- 
ming," &c. 


Again : 
Again : 


Run  up  to  the  top  of  the  dreadful  scarred 


"  I  stood  upon  the  top  of  the  high  scarre" 
Ray  says,  that  a  scarre  is  a  cliff  of  a  rock,  or  a  naked  rock 

on  the  dry  land,  from  the  Saxon  carre,  cautes.     He  adds,  that 

this  word  gave  denomination  to  the  town  of  Scarborough. 

But  as  some  Latin  commentator,  (whose  name  I  have  forgot,) 

observes  on  a  similar  occasion,  veritate  desperatd,  nihil  amplius 

curce  de  hac  re  suscipere  volui.     Steevens. 

/  see,  that  men  make  hopes,  in  such  a  scene, 
That -  "we'll  for sake  ourselves.']  i.  e.  I  perceive  that  while  our 
lovers  are  making  professions  of  love,  and  acting  their  assumed 
parts  in  this  kind  of  amorous  interlude,  they  entertain  hopes  that 
we  shall  be  betrayed  by  our  passions  to  yield  to  their  desires. 
So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing :  "  The  sport  will  be,  when 
they  hold  an  opinion  of  one  another's  dotage,  and  no  such 
matter, — that's  the  scene  that  I  would  see,"  &c.  Again,  in 
The  Winter's  Tale: 

" It  shall  be  so  my  care 

"  To  have  you  royally  appointed,  as  if 

"  The  scene  you  play,  were  mine." 
The  old  copy  reads  : 

J  see,  that  men  make  ropes  in  such  a  scarre,  &c. 
which  Mr.  Rowe  altered  to — make  hopes  in  such  affairs ;  and  all 
the  subsequent  editors  adopted  his  correction.  It  being  entirely 
arbitrary,  any  emendation  that  is  nearer  to  the  traces  of  the 


344  ALL'S  WELL  act  IK 

Ber.  I'll  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, 
Bequeathed  down  from  many  ancestors; 
Which  were  the  greatest  obloquy  i'the  world 
In  me  to  lose. 


unintelligible  word  in  the  old  copy,  and  affords  at  the  same 
time  an  easy  sense,  is  better  entitled  to  a  place  in  the  text. 

A  corrupted  passage  in  the  first  sketch  of  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor ;  suggested  to  me  [scene,]  the  emendation  now  in- 
troduced. In  the  fifth.  Act,  Fenton  describes  to  the  Host  his 
scheme  for  marrying  Anne  Page: 

"  And  in  a  robe  of  white  this  night  disguised 

"  Wherein  fat  Falstaff  had  [r.  hath]  a  mighty  scare, 

"  Must  Slender  take  her,"  &c. 
It  is  manifest,  from  the  corresponding  lines  in  the  folio,  that 
scare  was  printed  by  mistake  for  scene  ;  for  in  the  folio  the  pas- 
sage runs — 

" fat  Falstaff 

"  Hath  a  great  scene."     Ma  lone. 

Mr.  Rowe's  emendation  is  not  only  liable  to  objection  from 
its  dissimilarity  to  the  reading  of  the  four  folios,  but  also  from 
the  aukwardness  of  his  language,  where  the  literal  resemblance 
is  most,  like  the  words,  rejected.  In  such  affairs,  is  a  phrase 
too  vague  for  Shakspeare,  when  a  determined  point,  to  which 
the  preceding  conversation  had  been  gradually  narrowing,  was 
in  question;  and  to  make  hopes,  is  as  uncouth  an  expression  as 
can  well  be  imagined. 

Nor  is  Mr.  Malone's  supposition,  of  scene  for  scarre,  a  whit 
more  in  point :  for,  first,  scarre,  in  every  part  of  England  where 
rocks  abound,  is  well  known  to  signify  the  detached  protrusion 
of  a  large  rock ;  whereas  scare  is  terror  or  affright.  Nor  was 
scare,  in  the  first  sketch  of  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  a 
mistake  for  scene,  but  an  intentional  change  of  ideas;  scare 
implying  only  Falstqff's  terror,  but  scene  including  the  spec- 
tator's entertainment.  On  the  supposal  that  make  hopes  is  the 
true  reading,  in  such  a  scarre,  may  be  taken  figuratively  for  in 
suck  an  extremity,  i.  e.  in  so  desperate  a  situation.     Henley. 


sc.  ii.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  345 

D/4.  Mine  honour's  such  a  ring : 

My  chastity's  the  jewel  of  our  house, 
Bequeathed  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. 

DlA,    When    midnight   comes,   knock   at   my 
chamber  windowr ; 
I'll  order  take,  my  mother  shall  not  hear. 
Now  will  I  charge  you  in  the  band  of  truth, 
When  you  have  conquer'd  my  yet  maiden  bed, 
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,  I'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  his  heart ;  she  says,  all  men 
Have  the  like  oaths :  he  had  sworn  to  marry  me, 
When  his  wife's  dead  j  therefore  I'll  lie  with  him, 


;J4U  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

When  I  am  buried.    Since  Frenchmen  are  so  braid, 
Marry  that  will,  I'll  live  and  die  a  maid : 3 
Only,  in  this  disguise,  I  think't  no  sin 
To  cozen  him,  that  would  unjustly  win.        [Exit. 

3         »  Since  Frenchmen  are  so  braid, 
Marry  that  will,  I'll  live  and  die  a  maid  .-]  Braid  signifies 
crafty  or  deceitful.     So,  in  Greene's  Never  too  late,  1616 : 
*'  Dian  rose  with  all  her  maids, 
"  Blushing  thus  at  love  his  braids." 
Chaucer  uses  the  word  in  the  same  sense ;  but  as  the  passage 
where  it  occurs  in  his  Troilus  and  Cressida  is  contested,  it  may 
be  necessary  to  observe,  that  Bneb  is  an  Anglo-Saxon  word, 
signifying  Jraus,  astus.     Again,  in  Thomas  Drant's  translation 
of  Horace's  Epistles,  where  its  import  is  not  very  clear : 

"  Professing  thee  a  friend,  to  plaie  the  -ribbalde  at  a 
brade." 
In  The  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  v.  1336,  braid  seems  to  mean 
forthwith,  or,  at  a  jerk.     There  is  nothing  to  answer  it  in  the 
French,  except  tantost. 

In  the  ancient  song  of  Lytyl  Thanke,  (MS.  Cotton,  Titus  A. 
xxvi.)  "  at  a  brayd"  undoubtedly  signifies — at  once,  on  a  sud- 
den, in  the  instant  : 

u  But  in  come  ffrankelyn  at  a  brayd"     Steevens. 


sc.  ni.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  317 

SCENE  III. 

The  Florentine  Camp. 

Enter  the  two  French  Lords,  an4  two  or  three 
Soldiers. 

1  Lord.  You  have  not  given  him  his  mother's 
letter  ? 

2  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. 

1  Lord.4  He  has  much  worthy  blame  laid  upon 


4  1  Lord."]  The  latter  editors  have  with  great  liberality  be- 
stowed lordship  upon  these  interlocutors,  who,  in  the  original 
edition,  are  called,  with  more  propriety,  capt.  E.  and  capt.  G. 
It  is  true  that  captain  E.  in  a  former  scene  is  called  lord  E.  but 
the  subordination  in  which  they  seem  to  act,  and  the  timorous 
manner  in  which  they  converse,  determines  them  to  be  only 
captains.  Yet  as  the  latter  readers  of  Shakspeare  have  been 
used  to  find  them  lords,  I  have  not  thought  it  worth  while  to 
degrade  them  in  the  margin.     Johnson. 

These  two  personages  may  be  supposed  to  be  two  young 
French  Lords  serving  in  the  Florentine  camp,  where  they  now 
appear  in  their  military  capacity.  In  the  first  scene,  where  the 
two  French  lords  are  introduced,  taking  leave  of  the  king,  they 
are  called  in  the  original  edition,  Lord  E.  and  Lord  G. 

G.  and  E.  were,  I  believe,  only  put  to  denote  the  players  who 
performed  these  characters.  In  the  list  of  actors  prefixed  to  the 
first  folio,  I  find  the  names  of  Gilburne  and  Ecclestone,  to  whom 
these  insignificant  parts  probably  fell.  Perhaps,  however,  these 
performers  first  represented  the  French  Lords,  and  afterwards 
two  captains  in  the  Florentine  army ;  and  hence  the  confusion 
of  the  old  copy.  In  the  first  scene  of  this  Act,  one  of  these 
captains  is  called  throughout,  1.  Lord  E.  The  matter  is  of  no 
great  importance.    Malone. 


548  ALL'S  WELL  act  if. 

him,  for  shaking  off  so  good  a  wife,  and  so  sweet 
a  lady. 

2  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 
you. 

1  Lord.  When  you  have  spoken  it,  'tis  dead,  and 
I  am  the  grave  of  it. 

2  Lord.  He  hath  perverted  a  young  gentlewo- 
man here  in  Florence,  of  a  most  chaste  renown  ; 
and  this  night  he  fleshes  his  will  in  the  spoil  of  her 
honour :  he  hath  given  her  his  monumental  ring, 
and  thinks  himself  made  in  the  unchaste  compo- 
sition. 

1  Lord.  Now,  God  delay  our  rebellion  ;  as  we 
are  ourselves,  what  things  are  we ! 

2  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  abhorred 
ends;5  so  he,  that  in  this  action  contrives  against 
his  own  nobility,  in  his  proper  stream  o'erflows 
himself.6 

1  Lord.  Is  it  not  meant  damnable  in  us,7  to  be 


* till  they  attain  to  their  abhorred  ends ;]     This  may 

mean — they  are  perpetually  talking  about  the  mischief  they  in- 
tend to  do,  till  they  have  obtained  an  opportunity  of  doing  it. 

Steevens. 

6 in  his  proper  stream  overflows  himself ^\  That  is,  betrays 

his  own  secrets  in  his  own  talk.     The  reply  shows  that  this  is  the 
meaning.    Johnson. 

7  Is  it  not  meant  damnable  in  us,~\  I  once  thought  that  we 
ought  to  read — Is  it  not  most  damnable  ;  but  no  change  is  ne- 
cessary. Adjectives  are  often  used  as  adverbs  by  our  author 
and  his  contemporaries.     So,  in  The  Winter's  Tale : 


ac.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  349 

trumpeters  of  our  unlawful  intents  ?  We  shall  not 
then  have  his  company  to-night  ? 

2  Lord.  Not  till  after  midnight ;  for  he  is  dieted 
to  his  hour. 

1  Lord.  That  approaches  apace  :  I  would  gladly 
have  him  see  his  company 8  anatomized ;  that  he 
might  take  a  measure  of  his  own  judgments,9 
wherein  so  curiously  he  had  set  this  counterfeit.1 

2  Lord.  We  will  not  meddle  with  him  till  he 
come ;  for  his  presence  must  be  the  whip  of  the 
other. 

1  Lord.  In  the  mean  time,  what  hear  you  of 
these  wars  ? 

2  Lord.  I  hear,  there  is  an  overture  of  peace. 
1  Lord.  Nay,  I  assure  you,  a  peace  concluded. 


"  That  did  but  show  thee,  of  a  fool,  inconstant, 
•*  And  damnable  ungrateful." 
Again,  in  Twelfth- Night :  " — and  as  thou  drawest,  swear 
horrible — ." 

Again,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  : 

"  Let  the  supposed  fairies  pinch  him  sound.** 
Again,  in  Massinger's  Very  Woman: 

"  I'll  beat  thee  damnable."     Malone. 

Mr.  M.  Mason  wishes  to  read — mean  and  damnable. 

Steevens. 

• his  company — ]  i.  e.  his  companion.     It  is  so  used  in 

King  Henry  V.     Malone. 

9 he  might  take  a  measure  of  his  own  judgments,]  This  is 

a  very  just  and  moral  reason.  Bertram,  by  finding  how  erro- 
neously he  has  judged,  will  be  less  confident,  and  more  easily 
moved  by  admonition.     Johnson. 

1 •wherein  so  curiously  he  had  set  this  counterfeit.]  Pa- 

rolles  is  the  person  whom  they  are  going  to  anatomize.  Counter- 
feit, besides  its  ordinary  signification, — [a  person  pretending  to 
be  what  he  is  not,]  signified  also  in  our  author's  time  a  false  coin, 
and  a  picture.  The  word  set  shows  that  it  is  here  used  in  the 
first  and  the  last  of  these  senses.    Malone. 


350  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

2  Lord.  What  will  count  Rousillon  do  then  ? 
will  he  travel  higher,  or  return  again  into  France  ? 

1  Lord.  I  perceive,  by  this  demand,  you  are  not 
altogether  of  his  council. 

2  Lord.  Let  it  be  forbid,  sir !  so  should  I  be  a 
great  deal  of  his  act. 

1  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 
became  as  a  prey  to  her  grief;  in  fine,  made  a  groan 
of  her  last  breath,  and  now  she  sings  in  heaven. 

2  Lord.  How  is  this  justified  ? 

1  Lord.  The  stronger  part  of  it  by  her  own  let- 
ters ;  which  makes  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. 

2  Lord.  Hath  the  count  all  this  intelligence  ? 

1  Lord.  Ay,  and-  the  particular  confirmations, 
point  from  point,  to  the  full  arming  of  the  verity. 

2  Lord.  I  am  heartily  sorry,  that  he'll  be  glad 
of  this. 

1  Lord.  How  mightily,  sometimes,  we  make  us 
comforts  of  our  losses ! 

2  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. 

]  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 


sc.  m.         THAT  ENDS  WELL.  351 

crimes  would  despair,  if  they  were  not  cherish'd  by 
our  virtues. — 

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.  The  duke  hath  of- 
fered him  letters  of  commendations  to  the  king. 

2  Lord.  They  shall  be  no  more  than  needful 
there,  if  they  were  more  than  they  can  commend. 

Enter  Bertram. 

1  Lord.  They  cannot  be  too  sweet  for  the  king's 
tartness.  Here's  his  lordship  now.  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  conge'd  with  the  duke,  done  my 
adieu  with  his  nearest;  buried  a  wife,  mourned  for 
her ;  writ  to  my  lady  mother,  I  am  returning ;  en- 
tertained 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. 

2  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  fearing 
to  hear  of  it  hereafter :  But  shall  we  have  this  dia- 
logue between  the  fool  and  the  soldier  ? Come, 


352  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

bring  forth  this  counterfeit  module ;  2  he  has  de- 
ceived me,  like  a  double-meaning  prophesier.3 

2  Lord.  Bring  him  forth  :  [Exeunt  Soldiers.] 
he  has  sat  in  the  stocks  all  night,  poor  gallant 
knave. 

Ber.  No  matter  ;  his  heels  have  deserved  it,  in 
usurping  his  spurs  so  long.4  How  does  he  carry 
himself  ? 

1  Lord.  I  have  told  your  lordship  already  ;  the 
stocks  carry  him.  But,  to  answer  you  as  you  would 
be  understood  j  he  weeps,  like  a  wench  that  had 
shed  her  milk  :  he  hath  confessed  himself  to  Mor- 
gan, whom  he  supposes  to  be  a  friar,  from  the  time 


* bring  forth  this  counterfeit  module  ;]    Module  being 

the  pattern  of  any  thing,  may  be  here  used  in  that  sense. 
Bring  forth  this  fellow,  who,  by  counterfeit  virtue,  pretended  to 
make  himself  a  pattern.     Johnson. 

It  appears  from  Minsheu,  that  module  and  model  were 
synonymous. 

In  King  Richard  II.  model  signifies  a  thing  fashioned  after  an 
archetype  : 

"  Who  was  the  model  of  thy  father's  life." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  VIII : 

"  The  model  of  our  chaste  loves,  his  young  daughter." 
Our  author,  I  believe,  uses  the  word  here  in  the  same  sense  : — 
Bring  forth  this  counterfeit  representation  of  a  soldier. 

Malone. 

3  — —  a  double-meaning  prophesier."]  So,  in  Macbeth  : 
"  That  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense, 
"  And  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  ear, 
"  But  break  it  to  our  hope."     Steevens. 

4 in  usurping  his  spurs  so  long.]  The  punishment  of  a 

recreant,  or  coward,  was  to  nave  his  spurs  hacked  off. 

Malone. 

I  believe  these  words  allude  only  to  the  ceremonial  degrada- 
tion of  a  knight.  I  am  yet  to  learn,  that  the  same  mode  was 
practised  in  disgracing  dastards  of  interior  rank.     Steevens. 


sc.  in.         THAT  ENDS  WELL.  Z6$ 

of  his  remembrance,  to  this  yery  instant  disaster 
of  his  setting  i'the  stocks :  And  what  think  you 
he  hath  confessed  ? 

JZer.  Nothing  of  me,  has  he  ? 

2  Lord.  His  confession  is  taken,  and  it  shall  be 
read  to  his  face :  if  your  lordship  be  in't,  as,  I  be- 
lieve you  are,  you  must  have  the  patience  to  hear  it. 

Re-enter  Soldiers,  with  Parolles.* 

Ber.  A  plague  upon  him !  muffled !  he  can  say 
nothing  of  me ;  hush  !  hush ! 

1  Lord.  Hoodman  comes ! — Porto  tartarossa. 

1  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. 

1  Sold.  Bosko  chimurcho. 

2  Lord.  Boblibindo  chicurmurco. 

1  Sold.  You  are  a  merciful  general : — Our  ge- 
neral bids  you  answer  to  what  1  shall  ask  you  out 
of  a  note. 

Par.  And  truly,  as  I  hope  to  live. 

1  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 

s  Re-enter  Soldiers,  "with  Parolles.]  See  an  account  of  the 
examination  of  one  of  Henry  the  Eighth's  captains,  who  had 
gone  over  to  the  enemy  (which  may  possibly  have  suggested 
this  of  Parolles)  in  The  Life  qflacke  Wilton,  1594.  sig.  C.  iii. 

Ritson. 

VOL.  VIII.  A  A 


354  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

unserviceable :  the  troops  are  all  scattered,  and 
the  commanders  very  poor  rogues,  upon  my  re- 
putation and  credit,  and  as  I  hope  to  live. 

1  Sold.  Shall  I  set  down  your  answer  so  ? 

Par.  Do;-  I'll  take  the  sacrament  on't,  how 
and  which  way  you  will. 

Ber.  All's  one  to  him.'  What  a  past-saving  slave 
is  this ! 

1  Lord.  You  are  deceived,  my  lord ;  this  is 
monsieur  Parolles,  the  gallant  militarist,  (that  was 
his  own  phrase,)  that  had  the  whole  theorick 7  of 
war  in  the  knot  of  his  scarf,  and  the  practice  in 
the  chape  of  his  dagger. 

2  Lord.  I  will  never  trust  a  man  again,  for 
keeping  his  sword  clean  ;  nor  believe  he  can  have 
every  thing  in  him,  by  wearing  his  apparel  neatly. 

1  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. 

1  Lord.  He's  very  near  the  truth  in  this. 

•  All's  one  to  him.']  In  the  old  copy  these  words  are  given 
by  mistake  to  Parolles.  The  present  regulation,  which  is  clearly 
right,  was  suggested  by  Mr.  Steevens.     Malone. 

It  will  be  better  to  give  these  words  to  one  of  the  Dumains, 
than  to  Bertram.     Ritson. 

7  that  had  the  tohole  theorick — ]  i.  e.  theory.     So,  in 

Montaigne's  Essaies,  translated  by  J.  Florio,  1603:  "They 
know  the  theorique  of  all  things,  but  you  must  seek  who  shall 
put  it  in  practice."    Malone. 

In  1597  was  published  "  Theorique  and  Practise  of  Warre, 
written  by  Don  Philip  Prince  of  Castil,  by  Don  Bernardino  de 
Mendoza.  Translated  out  of  the  Castilian  Tonge  in  Englishe, 
hy  Sir  Edward  Hoby,  Knight,"  4to.    Reed. 


sc.  in.         THAT  ENDS  WELL.  $55 

Ber.  But  I  con  him  no  thanks  for't,8  in  the  na- 
ture he  delivers  it.9 

Par.  Poor  rogues,  I  pray  you,  say. 

1  Sold.  Well,  that's  set  down. 

Par.  I  humbly  thank  you,  sir:  a  truth's  a 
truth,  the  rogues  are  marvellous  poor. 

1  Sold.  Demand  of  him,  of  what  strength  they 
ore  a-foot.     What  say  you  to  that  ? 

Par.  By  my  troth,  sir,  if  I  were  to  live  this  pre- 
sent hour,1  I  will  tell  true.  Let  me  see :  Spurio  a 
hundred  and  fifty,  Sebastian  so  many,  Corambus  so 
many,  Jaques  so  many ;  Guiltian ,  Cosmo,  Lodowick, 
and  Gratii,  two  hundred  fifty  each :  mine  own 
company,  Chitopher,  Vaumond,  Bentii,  two  hun- 

•  i  !  T  con  him  no  thanks  for't ,]  To  con  thanks  exactly 
answers  the  French  scavoir  gre.  To  con  is  to  know.  I  meet 
with  the  same  expression  in  Pierce  Pennilesse  his  Supplication, 
&c. 

"  I  believe  he  will  con  thee  little  thanks  for  it,1* 

Again,  in  Wily  Beguiled ',  1606: 

"  /  con  master  Churms  thanks  for  this." 
Again,  in  Any  Thing  for  a  quiet  Life :  u  He  would  not  trust 
you  with  it,  I  con  him  thanks  for  it."     Steevens. 

•  in  the  nature  he  delivers  it.~\     He  has  said  truly  that 

our  numbers  are  about  five  or  six  thousand ;  but  having  de- 
scribed them  as  "  weak  and  unserviceable,"  &c.  I  am  not 
much  obliged  to  him.     Malone. 

Rather,  perhaps,  because  his  narrative,  however  near  the 
truth,  was  uttered  for  a  treacherous  purpose.     Steevens. 

1  if  I  were  to  live  this  present  hour,  &c.]     I  do  not 

understand  this  passage.  Perhaps  (as  an  anonymous  corre- 
spondent observes)  we  should  read: — if  I  were  to  live  but  this 
present  hour.     Steevens. 

Perhaps  he  meant  to  say — if  I  were  to  die  this  present  hour. 
But  fear  may  be  supposed  to  occasion  the  mistake,  as  poor 
frighted  Scrub  cries:  "  Spare  all  I  have,  and  take  my  life." 

Tollet. 

A  A   2 


S56  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

dred  and  fifty  each  ;  so  that  the  muster-file,  rotten 
and  sound,  upon  my  life,  amounts  not  to  fifteen 
thousand  poll ;  half  of  which  dare  not  shake  the 
snow  from  off  their  cassocks,2  lest  they  shake  them- 
selves to  pieces. 

Ber.  What  shall  be  done  to  him  ? 

1  Lord.  Nothing,  but  let  him  have  thanks. 
Demand  of  him  my  conditions,3  and  what  credit  I 
have  with  the  duke. 

1  Sold.  Well,  that's  set  down.  You  shall  de- 
mand 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 

*  off  their  cassocks,]     Cassock  signifies   a  horseman's 

loose  coat,  and  is  used  in  that  sense  by  the  writers  of  the  age 
of  Shakspeare.  So,  in  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  Brainworra 
says :  "  He  will  never  come  within  the  sight  of  a  cassock  or  a 
musquet-rest  again."  Something  of  the  same  kind  likewise 
appears  to  have  been  part  of  the  dress  of  rusticks,  in  Mucedorus, 
an  anonymous  comedy,  1598,  erroneously  attributed  to  Shak- 
speare : 

"  Within  my  closet  there  does  hang  a  cassock, 
"  Though  base  the  weed  is,  'twas  a  shepherd's." 
Again,  in  Whetstone's  Promos  and  Cassandra,  1578 : 

t  1  will  not  stick  to  wear 

"  A  blue  cassock.'* 
On  this  occasion  a  woman  is  the  speaker. 

So  again,  Puttenham,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry,  1589:  "Who 
would  not  think  it  a  ridiculous  thing  to  see  a  lady  in  her  milk- 
house  with  a  velvet  gown,  and  at  a  bridal  in  her  cassock  of 
tnoccado  ?" 

In  The  Hollander,  a  comedy  by  Glapthorne,  1640,  it  is  again 
spoken  of  as  part  of  a  soldier's  dress: 

"  Here,  sir,  receive  this  military  cassock,  it  has  seen  ser- 
vice.'* 

"  This  military  cassock  has,  I  fear,  some  military 

hangbys."     Steevens. 

' my  conditions,]    i.  e.  my  disposition  and  character. 

See  Vol.  VI.  p.  31,  n.  1.    Malon*. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  357 

in  wars ;  or  whether  he  thinks,  it  were  not  possible t 
with  well-weighing  sums  of  gold,  to  corrupt  him  to 
a  revolt.  What  say  you  to  this  ?  what  do  you 
know  of  it?  v- 

Par.  I  beseech  you,  let  me  answer  to  the  parti- 
cular of  the  intergatories : 4  Demand  them  singly. 

1  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  getting 
the  sheriff's  fool5  with  child;  a  dumb  innocent, 
that  could  not  say  him,  nay.6 

[Dumain  lifts  up  his  hand  in  anger. 


*  intergatories:]  i.e.  interrogatories.     Reed. 

* the  sheriff's  fool — ]     We  are  not  to  suppose,  that  this 

was  ajbol  kept  by  the  sheriff'  for  his  diversion.  The  custody 
of  all  ideots,  &c.  possessed  of  landed  property,  belonged  to  the 
King,  who  was  intitled  to  the  income  of  their  lands,  but  obliged 
to  find  them  with  necessaries.  This  prerogative,  when  there 
was  a  large  estate  in  the  case,  was  generally  granted  to  some 
court-favourite,  or  other  person  who  made  suit  for  and  had 
interest  enough  to  obtain  it,  which  was  called  begging  a  fool. 
But  where  the  land  was  of  inconsiderable  value,  the  natural 
was  maintained  out  of  the  profits,  by  the  sheriff,  who  accounted 
for  them  to  the  crown.  As  for  those  unhappy  creatures  who 
had  neither  possessions  nor  relations,  they  seem  to  have  been 
considered  as  a  species  of  property,  being  sold  or  given  with 
as  little  ceremony,  treated  as  capriciously,  and  very  often,  it  - 
is  to  be  feared,  left  to  perish  as  miserably,  as  dogs  or  cats. 

Ritson. 

■  a  dumb  innocent,  that  could  not  say  him,  nay."]  In- 
nocent does  not  here  signify  a  person  without  guilt  or  blame; 
but  means,  in  the  good-natured  language  of  our  ancestors,  an 
ideot  or  natural  fool.  Agreeably  to  this  sense  of  the  word  is 
the  following  entry  of  a  burial  in  the  parish  register  of  Charle- 
wood,  in  Surrey: — "  Thomas  Sole,  an  innocent  about  the  age 
o  fifty  years  and  upwards,  buried  19    September,  1605." 

Whalley. 

Doll  Common,  in  The  Alchemist,  being  asked  for  her  opinion 
of  the  Widow  Pliant,  observes  that  she  is — H  a  good  dull  inno- 


358  ALL'S  WELL  act  it. 

Per.  Nay,  by  your  leave,  hold  your  hands ; 
though  I  know,  his  brains  are  forfeit  to  the  next 
tile  that  falls.7 

1  Sold.  Well,  is  this  captain  in  the  duke  of 
Florence's  camp  ? 

Par.  Upon  my  knowledge,  he  is,  and  lousy. 

1  Lord,  Nay,  look  not  so  upon  me ;  we  shall 
ear  of  your  lordship*  anon. 

1  Sold.  What  is  his  reputation  with  the  duke  ? 

Par.  The  duke  knows  him  for  no  other  but  a 
poor1  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. 

1  Sold.  Marry,  we'll  search. 

cent.'*  Again,  in  I  would  and  I  would  not,  a  poem,  by  B.  N. 
1614: 

"  I  would  I  were  an  innocent,  a  foole, 

"  That  can  do  nothing  else  but  laugh  or  crie, 
H  And  eate  fat  meate,  and  never  go  to  schoole, 

"  And  be  in  love,  but  with  an  apple-pie  ; 
"  Weare  a  pide  coate,  a  cockes  combe,  and  a  bell, 
"  And  think  it  did  become  me  passing  well.'* 
Mr.  Douce  observes  to  me,  that  the  term— innocent,  was  origi- 
nally French. 

See  also  a  note  on  Ford's  *Tis  Pity  she's  a  Whore,  new  edi« 
tion  of  Dodsley's  Collection  of  old  Plays,  Vol.  VIII.  p.  24. 

Steevens. 

7  though  I  know,  his  brains  are  forfeit  to  the  next  tile 

that  falls.']  In  Lucian's  Contemplantes,  Mercury  makes  Charon 
remark  a  man  that  was  killed  by  the  falling  of  a  tile  upon  his 
head,  whilst  he  was  in  the  act  of  putting  oft  an  engagement  to 
the  next  day :—  ^  jxela^v  Ai/ov7o$,  diro  Tgreyas  y.spa.^\c  liaitkvistra., 
rfxo'iJ'  orov  xivrl<ra.vlos ,  dvexrEtvev  durov.  bee  the  life  of  Pyrrhus 
in  Plutarch.     Pyrrhus  was  killed  by  a  tile.     S.  W. 

-   your  lordship — ]   The  old  copy  has   Lord.    In  the 

MSS.  of  our  author's  age  they  scarcely  ever  wrote  Lordship  at 
full  length.    Malone. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  359 

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. 

1  Sold.  Here  'tis;  here's  a  paper?  Shall  I  read 
it  to  you  ? 

Par.  I  do  not  know,  if  it  be  it,  or  no. 

Ber.  Our  interpreter  does  it  well. 

1  Lord.  Excellently. 

1  Sold.  Dian.  The  count's  a  fool,  and  full  of 
gold,9— 

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 
ruttish  :  I  pray  you,  sir,  put  it  up  again. 

1  Sold.  Nay,  I'll  read  it  first,  by  your  favour. 

Par.  My  meaning  in't,  I  protest,  was  very  ho- 
nest in  the  behalf  of  the  maid:  for  I  knew  the 
young  count  to  be  a  dangerous  and  lascivious  boy; 
who  is  a  whale  to  virginity,  and  devours  up  all  the 
fry  it  finds. 


9  Dian.  The  count's  a  fad,  and  full  of  gold,]  After  this 
line  there  is  apparently  a  line  lost,  there  being  no  rhyme  that 
corresponds  to  gold.     Johnson. 

I  believe  this  line  is  incomplete.  The  poet  might  have 
written : 

Dian.     The  count's  a  fool,  and  full  of  golden  store— 
or  ore; 
and  this  addition  rhymes  with  the  following  alternate  verses. 

Steevens. 

May  we  not  suppose  the  former  part  of  the  letter  to  have 
been  prose,  as  the  concluding  words  are  ?  The  sonnet  inter- 
venes. 

The  feigned  letter  from  Olivia  to  Malvolio,  is  partly  pro»e, 
partly  verse.    Malone. 


360  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

Ber.  Damnable,  both  sides  rogue! 

1  Sold.    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 ; l 
He  ne'er  pays  after  debts,  take  it  before; 


1  Half  won,  is  match  well  made;  match,  and  well  make  it  ;~\ 
This  line  has  no  meaning  that  I  can  find.  I  read,  with  a  very 
slight  alteration:  Half  won  is  match  well  made;  watch,  and 
well  make  it.  That  is,  a  match  well  made  is  half  won  ;  watch, 
and  make  it  well. 

This  is,  in  my  opinion,  not  all  the  error.  The  lines  are  mis- 
placed, and  should  be  read  thus : 

Half  won  is  match  well  made;  watch,  and  well  make  it; 

When  he  swears  oaths,  bid  him  drop  gold,  and  take  it. 

After  he  scores,  he  never  pays  the  score  : 

He  ne'er  pays  qfter-debts,  take  it  before, 

And  say ■ — - 

That  is,  take  his  money,  and  leave  him  to  himself.  When  the 
players  had  lost  the  second  line,  they  tried  to  make  a  connec- 
tion out  of*  the  rest.  Part  is  apparently  in  couplets,  and  the 
whole  was  probably  uniform.    Johnson. 

Perhaps  we  should  read: 

Half  won  is  match  well  made,  match,  an'  we*ll  make  it. 
i.  e.  if  we  mean  to  make  any  match  of  it  at  all.     Steevens. 

There  is  no  need  of  change.  The  meaning  is,  "  A  match 
well  made,  is  half  won ;  make  your  match,  therefore,  but 
make  it  well."     M.  Mason. 

The  verses  having  been  designed  by  Parolles  as  a  caution  to 
Diana,  after  informing  her  that  Bertram  is  both  rich  and  faith- 
less, he  admonishes  her  not  to  yield  up  her  virtue  to  his  oaths, 
but  his  gold ;  and  having  enforced  this  advice  by  an  adage,  re- 
commends her  to  comply  with  his  importunity,  provided  half 
the  sum  for  which  she  shall  stipulate  be  previously  paid  her:— 
Half  won  is  match  well  made  ;  match,  and  well  make  it. 

Henley. 

Gain  half  of  what  he  offers,  and  you  are  well  off;  if  you  yield 
to  him,  make  your  bargain  secure.    Maloxe. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  361 

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  vow'd  to  thee  in  thine  ear, 

Parolles. 

*  Men  are  to  mell  tmth,  boys  are  not  to  kiss  .-]  The  meaning 
of  the  word  mell,  from  meter,  French,  is  obvious. 

So,  in  Ane  very  excellent  and  delectabill  Treatise,  intitulit 
Philotus,  &c.  1603: 

"  But  he  na  husband  is  to  mee  ; 
**  Then  how  could  we  twa  disagree 
"  That  never  had  na  melting." 

"  Na  melting,  mistress  ?  will  you  then 
"  Deny  the  marriage  of  that  man?" 

Again,  in  The  Corpus  Christi  Play,  acted  at  Coventry.    MSS. 
Cott.  Vesp.  VIII.  p.  122: 

**  And  fayr  yonge  qwene  herby  doth  dwelle, 

"  Both  frech  and  gay  upon  to  loke, 

"  And  a  tall  man  with  her  doth  melle, 

"  The  way  into  hyr  chawmer  ryght  evyn  he  toke." 
The  argument  of  this  piece  is  The  Woman  taken  in  Adultery. 

Steevens. 
Men  are  to  mell  with,  boys  are  not  to  kiss .]  Mr.  Theobald 
and  the  subsequent  editors  read — boys  are  but  to  kiss.  I  do  not 
see  any  need  of  change,  nor  do  I  believe  that  any  opposition 
was  intended  between  the  words  mell  and  kiss.  Parolles  wishes 
to  recommend  himself  to  Diana,  and  for  that  purpose  advises 
her  to  grant  her  favours  to  men,  and  not  to  boys.  He  himself 
calls  his  letter  '*  An  advertisement  to  Diana  to  take  heed  of  the 
allurement  of  one  count  Rousillon,  a  foolish  idle  boy." 

To  mell  is  used  by  our  author's  contemporaries  m  the  sense 
of  meddling,  without  the  indecent  idea  which  Mr.  Theobald  sup- 
posed to  be  couched  under  the  word  in  this  place.  So,  in 
Hall's  Satires,  1597  : 

"  Hence,  ye  profane ;  mell  not  with  holy  things.'* 
Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  IV.  c.  i : 

"  With  holy  father  fits  not  with  such  things  to  mell.** 

Malons. 


S62  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

Ber.  He  shall  be  whipped  through  the  army, 
with  this  rhyme  in  his  forehead. 

2  Lord,  This  is  your  devoted  friend,  sir,  the 
manifold  linguist,  and  the  armipotent  soldier. 

Ber.  I  could  endure  any  thing  before  but  a  cat, 
and  now  he's  a  cat  to  me. 

1  Sold.  I  perceive,  sir,  by  the  general's  looks,3 
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  any 
where,  so  I  may  live.4 

1  Sold.  We'll  see  what  may  be  done,  so  you 
confess  freely ;  therefore,  once  more  to  this  captain 
Dumain :  You  have  answered  to  his  reputation  with 
the  duke,  and  to  his  valour:  What  is  his  honesty? 

Par.  He  will  steal,  sir,  an  egg  out  of  a  cloister  ;5 

'  ■  by  the  general's  looks,"]  The  old  copy  has — by  your. 
The  emendation  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio, 
and  the  misprint  probably  arose  from  yc  in  the  MS.  being  taken 
for  yr.     Malonb. 

*  let  me  live,   sir,  in  a  dungeon,  i'the  stocks,    or  any 

where,  so  I  may  live."]  Smith  might  have  had  this  abject  senti- 
ment of  Parolles  in  his  memory,  when  he  put  the  following 
words  into  the  mouth  of  Lycon,  in  Phcedra  and  Hippolytus  : 

44  O,  chain  me,'  whip  me,  let  me  be  the  scorn 
44  Of  sordid  rabbles,  and  insulting  crowds  ; 
44  Give  me  but  life,  and  make  that  life  most  wretched !" 

Steevens. 

*  an  egg  out  of  a  cloister;]  I  know  not  that  cloister, 

though  it  may  etymologically  signify  any  thing  shut,  is  used  by 
our  author  otherwise  than  for  a  monastery,  and  therefore  I  can- 
not guess  whence  this  hyperbole  could  take  its  original:  perhaps 


x.  m.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  363 

for  rapes  and  ravishments  he  parallels  Nessus.  He 
professes  not  keeping  of  oaths ;  in  breaking  them, 
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  every 
thing  that  an  honest  man  should  not  have  ;  what 
an  honest  man  should  have,  he  has  nothing. 

1  Lord.  I  begin  to  love  him  for  this. 

Ber.  For  this  description  of  thine  honesty  ?  A 
pox  upon  him  for  me,  he  is  more  and  more  a  cat. 

1  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  j  except,  in  that 
country,  he  had  the  honour  to  be  the  officer  at  a 
place  there  calPd  Mile-end,c  to  instruct  for  the 
doubling  of  files  :  I  would  do  the  man  what  honour 
I  can,  but  of  this  I  am  not  certain. 

l  Lord.  He  hath  out-villained  villainy  so  far, 
that  the  rarity  redeems  him. 

Ber.  A  pox  on  him !  he's  a  cat  still.7 

it  means  only  this— He  ixill  steal  any  thing,  however  trifling,  from 
any  place,  however  holy.     Johnson. 

Robbing  the  spital,  is  a  common  phrase,  of  the  like  import. 

M.  Mason. 

a at  a  place  there  calVd  Mile-end,"]    See  a  note  on  King 

Henry  IV.  P.  II.  Act  III.  sc.  ii.     Malone. 

7 he's  a  cat  still.']   That  is,  throw  him  how  you  will,  he 

lights  upon  his  legs.     Johnson. 

Bertram  has  no  such  meaning.    In  a  speech  or  two  before, 


364  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

1  Sold.  His  qualities  being  at  this  poor  price, 
I  need  not  ask  you,  if  gold  will  corrupt  him  to  re- 
volt. 

Par.  Sir,  for  a  quart  d'ecu8  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. 

1  Sold.  What's  his  brother,  the  other  captain 
Dumain  ? 

2  Lord.  Why  does  he  ask  him  of  me  ? 9 
1  Sold.  What's  he  ? 

Par.  E'en  a  crow  of  the  same  nest ;  not  altoge- 

he  declares  his  aversion  to  a  cat,  and  now  only  continues  in  the 
same  opinion,  and  says  he  hates  Parolles  as  much  as  he  hates  a 
cat .  The  other  explanation  will  not  do,  as  Parolles  could  not  be 
meant  by  the  cat,  which  always  lights  on  its  legs,  for  Parolles  is 
now  in  a  fair  way  to  be  totally  disconcerted.     Steevens. 

I  am  still  of  my  former  opinion.  The  speech  was  applied  by 
King  James  to  Coke,  with  respect  to  his  subtilties  of  law,  that 
throw  him  which  way  we  would,  he  could  still,  like  a  cat,  light 
upon  his  legs.     Johnson. 

The  Count  had  said,  that  formerly  a  cat  was  the  only  thing 
in  the  world  which  he  could  not  endure  ;  but  that  now  Parolles 
was  as  much  the  object  of  his  aversion  as  that  animal.  After 
Parolles  has  gone  through  his  next  list  of  falshoods,  the  Count 
adds,  "  he's  more  and  more  a  cat," — still  more  and  more  the 
object  of  my  aversion  than  he  was.  As  Parolles  proceeds  still 
further,  one  of  the  Frenchmen  observes,  that  the  singularity  of 
his  impudence  and  villainy  redeems  his  character.— Not  at  all, 
replies  the  Count ;  "  he's  a  cat  still ;"  he  is  as  hateful  to  me  as 
ever.  There  cannot,  therefore,  I  think  be  any  doubt  that  Dr. 
Johnson's  interpretation,  "  throw  him  how  you  will,  he  lights 
upon  his  legs," — is  founded  on  a  misapprehension.     Malone. 

8 for  a  quart  d'ecu  — ]    The  fourth  part  of  the  smaller 

French  crown;  about  eight-pence  of  our  money.     Malone. 

9  Why  does  he  ask  him  of  me?]  This  is  nature.  Every  man  is, 
on  such  occasions,  more  willing  to  hear  his  neighbour's  character 
than  his  own.    Johnson. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  365 

ther  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  out-runs  any  lackey  j  marry, 
in  coming  on  he  has  the  cramp. 

1  Sold.  If  your  life  be  saved,  will  you  undertake 
to  betray  the  Florentine  ? 

Par.  Ay,  and  the  captain  of  his  horse,  count 
Rousillon. 

1  Sold.  I'll  whisper  with  the  general,  and  know 
his  pleasure. 

Par.  I'll  no  more  drumming ;  a  plague  of  all 
drums !  Only  to  seem  to  deserve  well,  and  to  be- 
guile the  supposition }  of  that  lascivious  young  boy 
the  count,  have  I  run  into  this  danger :  Yet,  who 
would  have  suspected  an  ambush  where  I  was 
taken  ?  [Aside. 

1  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,  headsmen,  off  with  his  head. 

Par.  O  Lord,  sir ;  let  me  live,  or  let  me  see  my 
death ! 

1  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. 

2  Lord.  God  bless  you,  captain  Parolles. 


1 to  beguile  the  supposition  — ]    That  is,  to  deceive  the 

opinion,  to  make  the  Count  think  me  a  man  that  deserves  well. 


566  ALL'S  WELL  ACTir* 

1  Lord.  God  save  you,  noble  captain. 

2  Lord.  Captain,  what  greeting  will  you  to  my 
lord  Lafeu  ?  I  am  for  France. 

1  Lord.  Good  captain,  will  you  give  me  a  copy 
of  the  sonnet  you  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. 

[Exeunt  Bertram,  Lords,  #c. 

1  Sold.  You  are  undone,  captain :  all  but  your 
scarf,  that  has  a  knot  on't  yet. 

Par.  Who  cannot  be  crushed  with  a  plot  ? 

1  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  you 
well,  sir ;  I  am  for  France  too  j  we  shall  speak  of 
you  there.  [Exit 

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 
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. 
I'll  after  them.  [Exit* 


} 


sc.  iv.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  367 

SCENE  IV. 

Florence.     A  Room  in  the  Widow's  House, 

Enter  Helena,  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  mine  intents,  to  kneel : 
Time  was,  I  did  him  a  desired  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 ; 2  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. 

Ww.  Gentle  madam, 

You  never  had  a  servant,  to  whose  trust 
Your  business  was  more  welcome. 

Hel.  Nor  you,3  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, 

*  His  grace  is  at  Marseilles ;  &c.}  From  this  line,  and  others, 
it  appears  that  Marseilles  was  pronounced  by  our  author  as  a 
word  of  three  syllables.  The  old  copy  has  here  Marcellce,  and 
in  the  last  scene  of  this  Act,  MarceUus.    Malone. 

*  Nor  you,]  Old  copy — Nor  your.    Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

Malone. 


S68  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

As  it  hath  fated  her  to  be  my  motive  * 
And  helper  to  a  husband.     But  O  strange  men ! 
That  can  such  sweet  use  make  of  what  they  hate, 
"When  saucy  trusting  of  the  cozen'd  thoughts 
T)efiles  the  pitchy  night ! 5  so  lust  doth  play 
With  what  it  loaths,  for  that  which  is  away : 

But  more  of  tins  hereafter: You,  Diana, 

Under  my  poor  instructions  yet  must  suffer 
Something  in  my  behalf. 

Dia.  Let  death  and  honesty8 

Go  with  your  impositions,7 1  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, 
And  be  as  sweet  as  sharp.8     We  must  away ; 

* my  motive — ]  Motive  for  assistant.     Warburton. 

Rather  for  mover.     So,  in  the  last  Act  of  this  play: 

" all  impediments  in  fancy's  course 

"  Are  motives  of  more  fancy."     Malone. 

*  When  saucy  trusting  of  the  cozen'd  thoughts 

Defiles  the  pitchy  night  /]  Saucy  may  very  properly  signify 
luxurious,  and  by  consequence  lascivious.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Measure  for  Measure  : 

**  > as  to  remit 

"  Their  saucy  sweetness,  that  do  coin  heaven's  image 
"  In  stamps  that  are  forbid."     Malone. 

* death  and  honesty — ]    i.  e.  an  honest  death.     So,  in 

another  of  our  author's  plays,  we  have  "  death  and  honour"  for 
honourable  death.     Steevens. 

7  your  impositions,]  i.  e.  your  commands.    Malone. 

An  imposition  is  a  task  imposed.     The  term  is  still  current  in 
Universities.     Steevens. 

•  But  with  the  word,  the  time  will  bring  on  summer,  &c]  With 
the  word,  i.  e.  in  an  instant  of  time.     Warburton. 

The  meaning  of  this  observation  is,  that  as  briars  have  sweet- 


sc.  m  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  369 

Our  waggon  is  prepar'd,  and  time  revives  us  : 9 

ness  with  their  prickles,  so  shall  these  troubles  be  recompensed 
with  joy.    Johnson. 

I  would  read : 

Yet  I  'fray  you 

But  with  the  word :  the  time  will  bring,  &c. 
And  then  the  sense  will  be,  "  I  only  frighten  you  by  mentioning 
the  word  suffer ;  for  a  short  tirtie  will  bring  on  the  season  of 
happiness  and  delight."     Blackstone. 

As  the  beginning  of  Helen's  reply  is  evidently  a  designed 
aposiopesis,  a  break  ought  to  follow  it,  thus : 

Hel.    Yet,  I  pray  you: 

The  sense  appears  to  be  this : — Do  not  think  that  I  would  engage 
you  in  any  service  that  should  expose  you  to  such  an  alternative, 
or,  indeed,  to  any  lasting  inconvenience;  But  with  the  word, 
i.  e.  But  on  the  contrary,  you  shall  no  sooner  have  delivered 
what  you  will  have  to  testify  on  my  account,  than  the  irksome- 
ness  of  the  service  will  be  over,  and  every  pleasant  circumstance 
to  result  from  it  will  instantaneously  appear.     Henley. 

9  Our  waggon  is  prepared,  and  time  revives  as.-]  The  word 
revives  conveys  so  little  sense,  that  it  seems  very  liable  to  sus- 
picion. 

and  time  revyes  us : 

i.  e.  looks  us  in  the  face,  calls  upon  us  to  hasten. 

Warburton. 

The  present  reading  is  corrupt,  and  I  am  afraid  the  emenda- 
tion none  of  the  soundest.  I  never  remember  to  have  seen  the 
word  revye.  One  may  as  well  leave  blunders  as  make  them. 
Why  may  we  not  read  for  a  shift,  without  much  effort,  the  time 
invites  us?    Johnson. 

To  vye  and  revye  were  terms  at  several  ancient  games  at 
cards,  but  particularly  at  Gleek.  So,  in  Greene's  Art  of  Coney- 
catching,  1592:  "I'll  either  win  something  or  lose  something, 
therefore  I'll  vie  and  revie  every  card  at  my  pleasure,  till  either 
yours  or  mine  come  out ;  therefore  12d.  upon  this  card,  my 
card  comes  first."  Again  :  "  — so  they  vie  and  revie  till  some 
ten  shillings  be  on  the  stake,"  &c.  Again :  *'  This  flesheth  the 
Conie,  and  the  sweetness  of  gain  makes  him  frolick,  and  none 
more  ready  to  vie  and  revie  than  he."  Again :  "  So  they  vie 
and  revie,  and  for  once  that  the  Barnacle  wins,  the  Conie  gets 
five."    Perhaps,  however,  revyes  is  not  the  true  reading.    Shak- 

VOL.  VIII.  B  B 


370  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

AWs  well  that  ends  well:*    still   the  fine's*  the 

crown  ; 
Whate'er  the  course,  the  end  is  the  renown. 

[Exeunt. 

speare  might  have  written — time  reviles  iw,  i.  e.  reproaches  us 
for  wasting  it.  Yet, — time  revives  us  may  mean,  it  rouses  us. 
So,  in  another  play  of  our  author : 

" 1  would  revive  the  soldiers'  hearts, 

"  Because  I  found  them  ever  as  myself.'*     Steevens. 

Time  revives  us,  seems  to  refer  to  the  happy  and  speedy  ter- 
mination of  their  embarrassments.     She  had  just  before  said : 
"  With  the  word,  the  time  will  bring  on  summer." 

Henley. 

1  AW  swell  that  ends  tvell  ••]     So,  in   The  Spanish  Tragedy: 
"  The  end  is  crotvn  of  every  work  well  clone. " 
All's  •well  that  ends  ivell,  is  one  of  Camden's  proverbial  sen- 
tences.    Ma  LONE. 

still  the fine's  the  crown;}     So,  in  Chapman's  version 

of  the  second  Iliad: 

"  We  fly,  not  putting  on  the  crotvn  of  our  so  long- held 
war." 
Again,  ibid:    J 

" and  all  things  have  their  crotcny 

"  As  he  interpreted."     Steevens. 

• the  fine's — ]  i.  e.  the  end.     So,  in  The  London  Pro- 
digal, 1605 : 

"  Nature  hath  done  the  last  for  me,  and  there's  the  fine" 

Malone. 


sc.  r.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  37 1 

SCENE  V. 

Rousillon.     A  Room  in  the  Countess's  Palace. 

Enter  Countess,  Lafeu,  and  Clown. 

Laf.  No,  no,  no,  your  son  was  misled  with  a 
snipt-taffata  fellow  there ;  whose  villainous  saffron 
would  have  made  all  the  unbaked  and  doughy  youth 
of  a  nation  in  his  colour  : 3  your  daughter-in-law 

1  whose  villainous  saffron  would  have  made  all  the  un- 
baked and  doughy  youth  of  a  nation  in  his  colour:]  Parolles 
is  represented  as  an  affected  follower  of  the  fashion,  and  an 
encourager  of  his  master  to  run  into  all  the  follies  of  it ;  where 
he  says :  "  Use  a  more  spacious  ceremony  to  the  noble  lords — 
they  wear  themselves  in  the  cap  of  time — and  though  the  devil 
lead  the  measure,  such  are  to  be  followed."  Here  some  par- 
ticularities of  fashionable  dress  are  ridiculed.  Snipt-taffata 
needs  no  explanation ;  but  villainous  saffron  is  more  obscure. 
This  alludes  to  a  fantastic  fashion,  then  much  followed,  of  using 
yellow  starch  for  their  bands  and  ruffs,  So,  Fletcher,  in  his 
Queen  of  Corinth  : 

" Has  he  familiarly 

H  Dislik'd  your  yellow  starch ;  or  said  your  doublet 

"  Was  not  exactly  frenchified  ? " 

And  Jonson's  Devil's  an  Ass  : 

"  Carmen  and  chimney-sweepers  are  got  into  the  yellow 
starch." 
This  was  invented  by  one  Turner,  a  tire-woman,  a  court-bawd, 
and,  in  all  respects,  of  so  infamous  a  character,  that  her  inven- 
tion deserved  the  name  of  villainous  saffron.  This  woman 
was,  afterwards,  amongst  the  miscreants  concerned  in  the  mur- 
der of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  for  which  she  was  hanged  at 
Tyburn,  and  would  die  in  a  yellow  riff  of  her  own  invention : 
which  made  yellow  starch  so  odious,  that  it  immediately  went 
out  of  fashion.  'Tis  this,  then,  to  which  Shakspeare  alludes: 
but  using  the  word  saffron  for  yellow,  a  new  idea  presented 
itself,  and  he  pursues  his  thought  under  a  quite  different  allu- 

B  B2 


.372  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

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. 

sfon — Whose  villainous  saffron  would  have  made  all  the  un~ 
baked  and  doughy  youths  of  a  nation  in  his  colour;  i.e.  of  his 
temper  and  disponing.  Here  the  general  custom  of  that  time, 
of  colouring  paste  with  saffron,  is  alluded  to.  So,  in  The  Win- 
ter's Tale: 

"  I  must  have  saffron  to  colour  the  warden  pyes." 

Warburton. 

This  play  was  probably  written  several  years  before  the  death 
of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury.  The  plain  meaning  of  the  passage 
seems  to  be :  "  Whose  evil  qualities  are  of  so  deep  a  dye,  as  to 
be  sufficient  to  corrupt  the  most  innocent,  and  to  render  them 
of  the  same  disposition  with  himself."    Malone. 

Stubbs,  in  his  Anatomie  of  Abuses,  published  in  1595,  speak* 
of  starch  of  various  colours  : 

" The  one  arch  or  piller  wherewith  the  devil's  king- 
dome  of  great  ruffes  is  underpropped,  is  a  certain  kind  of  liquid 
matter  which  they  call  startch,  wherein  the  devill  hath  learned 
them  to  wash  and  die  their  ruffes,  which,  being  drie,  will  stand 
stiff  and  inflexible  about  their  neckes.  And  this  startch  they 
make  of  divers  substances,  sometimes  of  wheate  flower,  of 
branne,  and  other  graines :  sometimes  of  rootes,  and  sometimes 
of  other  thinges:  of  all  collours  and  hues,  as  white,  redde, 
blewe,  purple,  and  the  like." 

In  The  World  toss'd  at  Tennis,  a  masque  by  Middleton,  the 
Jive  starches  are  personified,  and  introduced  contesting  for  su- 
periority. 

Again,  in  Albumazar,  1615: 

"  What  price  bears  wheat  and  saffron,  that  your  band's 
so  stiff  and  yellow?" 
Again,  in  Heywood's  If  you  know  not  me,  you  know  nobody, 
1606:  "  — have  taken  an  order  to  wear  yellow  garters,  points, 
and  shoe-tyings,  and  'tis  thought  yellow  will  grow  a  custom." 

"  It  has  been  long  used  at  London." 

It  may  be  added,  that  in  the  year  1446,  a  parliament  was 
held  at  Trim,  in  Ireland,  by  which  the  natives  were  directed, 
among  other  things,  not  to  wear  shirts  stained  with  saffron. 

Steevens. 

See  a  note  on  Albumazar,  Dodsley's  Collection  of  old  Plays, 
Vol.  VII.  p.  156,  edit.  1780.    Reed. 


sc.  r.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  375 

Count.  I  would,  I  had  not  known  him!4  it  was 
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 
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.5 

Laf.  They  are  not  salad-herbs,  you  knave,  they 
are  nose-herbs. 

Clo.  I  am  no  great  Nebuchadnezzar,  sir,  I  have 
not  much  skill  in  grass.6 

Laf.  Whether  dost  thou  profess  thyself ;  a 
knave,  or  a  fool.^ 

Clo.  A  fool,  sir,  at  a  woman's  service,  and  a 
knave  at  a  man's. 

Laf.  Your  distinction  ? 

Clo.  I  would  cozen  the  man  of  his  wife,  and  do 
his  service. 

*  J  toould,  I  had  not  known  him  /]  This  dialogue  serves  to 
connect  the  incidents  of  Parolles  with  the  main  plan  of  the  play. 

Johnson. 

I  should  wish  to  read — he  had  not  known  him,  meaning  that 
her  son  had  not.  Her  knowing  Parolles  was  of  little  conse- 
quence, but  Bertram's  knowing  him  caused  the  death  of  Helen, 
which  she  deplores.    M.  Mason. 

*  herb  of  grace.']  i.  e.  rue.     So,  in  Hamlet:  "there's 

rue  for  you— we  may  call  it  herb  of  grace  o'  Sundays." 

Steevens. 

*  in  grass.]     The  old  copy,  by  an  evident  error  of  the 

press,  reads— grace.  The  correction  was  made  by  Mr.  Rowe. 
The  word  salad,  in  the  preceding  speech,  was  also  supplied  by 
him.    Malone. 


374  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 

Laf.  So  you  were  a  knave  at  his  service,  indeed. 

Clo.  And  I  would  give  his  wife  my  bauble,  sir, 
to  do  her  service.7 

Laf.  I  will  subscribe  for  thee ;  thou  art  both 
knave  and  fool. 

Clo.  At  your  service. 

Laf.  No,  no,  no. 

7  /  would  give  his  wife  my  bauble,  sir,  to  do  her  ser- 
vice."] Part  of  the  furniture  of  a  fool  was  a  bauble,  which, 
though  it  be  generally  taken  to  signify  any  thing  of  small  value, 
has  a  precise  and  determinable  meaning.  It  is,  in  short,  a  kind 
of  truncheon  with  a  head  carved  on  it,  which  the  fool  anciently 
carried  in  his  hand.  There  is  a  representation  of  it  in  a  picture 
of  Watteau,  formerly  in  the  collection  of  Dr.  Mead,  which  is 
engraved  by  Baron,  and  called  Comediens  Italiens.  A  faint  re- 
semblance of  it  may  be  found  in  the  frontispiece  of  L.  de  Guer- 
nier  to  King  Lear,  in  Mr.  Pope's  edition  in  duodecimo. 

Sik  J.  Hawkixs. 

So,  in  Marston's  Dutch  Courtesan,  1604 : 

"  if  a.  fool,  we  must  bear  his  bauble." 

Again,  in  The  Two  angry  Women  of  Abingdon,  1599  :  "  The 
fool  will  not  leave  his  bauble  for  the  Tower  of  London." 
Again,  in  Jack  Drum's  Entertainment,  1601  : 
'*  She  is  enamoured  of  the  fool's  bauble" 
In  the  Stultifera  Navis,  1497,  are  several  representations  of 
this  instrument,  as  well  as  in  Cocke's  Lord's  Bote,  printed  by 
Wynkyn  de  Worde.     Again,  in  Lyte's  Herbal:  "  In  the  hol- 
lowness  of  the  said  flower  (the  great  blue  wolfe's-bane )  grow 
two  small  crooked  hayres,  somewhat  great  at  the  end,  fashioned 
like  a. fool's  babied     An  ancient  proverb,  in  Ray's  Collection, 
points  out  the  materials  of  which  these  baubles  were  made : 
""  If  every  fool  should  wear  a  bable,  fewel  would  be  dear." 
See  figure  12,  in  the  plate  at  the  end  of  The  First  Part  of  King 
Henry  IV.  with  Mr.  Toilet's  explanation.     Steevens. 

The  world  bauble  is  here  used  in  two  senses.  The  Clown  had 
another  bauble  besides  that  which  the  editor  alludes  to. 

M.  Mason. 

When  Cromwell,  1653,  forcibly  turned  out  the  rump-parlia- 
ment, he  bid  the  soldiers,  "  take  away  that  fool's  bauble" 
pointing  to  the  speaker's  mace.    Blackstone. 


sc.  r.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  375 

Clo.  Why,  sir,  if  I  cannot  serve  you,  I  can  serve 
as  great  a  prince  as  you  are.        l 

Laf.  Who's  that  ?  a  Frenchman  ? 

Clo.  Faith,  sir,  he  has  an  English  name;8  but  his 
phisnomy  is  more  hotter  in  France,  than  there.9 

Laf.  What  prince  is  that  ? 

Clo.  The  black  prince,1  sir,  alias,  the  prince  of 
darkness  ;  alias,  the  devil. 

Laf.  Hold  thee,  there's  my  purse  :  I  give  thee 
not  this  to  suggest  thee  from  thy  master 2  thou 
talkest  of;  serve  him  still. 

Clo.  I  am  a  woodland  fellow,  sir,  that  always 

•  ■         an  English  name ;]     The  old  copy  reads — maine. 

Steevens. 

Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 

Maine,  or  head  of  hair,  agrees  better  with  the  context  than 
name.     His  hair  was  thick.    Henley. 

•  his  phisnomy  is  more  hotter  in  France,  than  there."\ 

This  is  intolerable  nonsense.  The  stupid  editors,  because  the 
devil  was  talked  of,  thought  no  quality  would  suit  him  but 
hotter.  We  should  read — more  honour'd.  A  joke  upon  the 
French  people,  as  if  they  held  a  dark  complexion,  which  is  na» 
tural  to  them,  in  more  estimation  than  the  English  do,  who  are 
generally  white  and  fair.     Warburton. 

The  allusion  is,  in  all  probability,  to  the  Morbus  Gallicus. 

Steevens. 

*.  The  black  prince,]  Bishop  Hall,  in  his  Satires,  B.  V. 
Sat.  ii.  has  given  the  same  name  to  Pluto :  "  So  the  black  prince 
is  broken  loose  again,"  &c.     Holt  White. 

to  suggest  thee  from   thy  master  — ]     Thus  the  old 


copy.  The  modern  editors  read — seduce,  but  without  authority. 
To  suggest  had  anciently  the  same  meaning.  So,  in  the  Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona : 

"  Knowing  that  tender  youth  is  soon  suggested, 
'  "  I  nightly  lodge  her  in  an  upper  tower."     Steevens. 


376  ALL'S  WELL  act  ir. 

loved  a  great  fire;3  and  the  master  I  speak  of,  ever 
keeps  a  good  fire.  But,  sure,  he  is  the  prince  of 
the  world,4  let  his  nobility  remain  in  his  court.  I 
am  for  the  house  with  the  narrow  gate,  which  I 
take  to  be  too  little  for  pomp  to  enter  :  some,  that 
humble  themselves,  may  ;  but  the  many  will  be  too 
chill  and  tender;  and  they'll  be  for  the  flowery  way, 
that  leads  to  the  broad  gate,  and  the  great  nre.5 

Lap.  Go  thy  ways,  I  begin  to  be  a-weary  of 
thee ;  and  I  tell  thee  so  before,  because  I  would 
not  fall  out  with  thee.  Go  thy  ways ;  let  my 
horses  be  well  looked  to,  without  any  tricks. 

Clo.  If  I  put  any  tricks  upon  'em,  sir,  they 
shall  be  jades  tricks;  which  are  their  own  right 
by  the  law  of  nature.  [Exit. 

Laf.  A  shrewd  knave,  and  an  unhappy.6 

Count.  So  he  is.  My  lord,  that's  gone,  made 
himself  much  sport  out  of  him  :  by  his  authority 
he  remains  here,  which  he  thinks  is  a  patent  for 
his  sauciness ;  and,  indeed,  he  has  no  pace,  but 
runs  where  he  will.7 

*  I  am  a  woodland  fellow,  'sir,  &c.~J  Shakspeare  is  but  rarely 
guilty  of  such  impious  trash.  And  it  is  observable,  that  then 
he  always  puts  that  into  the  mouth  of  his  fools,  which  is  now 
grown  the  characteristic  of  the  fine  gentleman.     Warburton. 

4  But,  sure,  he  is  the  prince  of  the  •world,']  I  think  we  should 
read — But  since  he  is,  &c.  and  thus  Sir  T.  Hanmer. 

Steevens. 

•  the  flowery  way, and  the  great  fire.]     The  same 

impious  stuff  occurs  again  in  Macbeth  :  "  —  the  primrose  way 
to  the  everlasting  bonfire"     Steevens. 

'  — —  unhappy.]  i.  e.  mischievously  waggish,  unlucky. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

"  You  are  a  churchman,  or,  I'll  tell  you,  cardinal, 
**  I  should  judge  now  unhappily."    Steevens. 


sc,  v,  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  377 

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  re- 
turn home,  I  moved  the  king  my  master,  to  speak 
in  the  behalf  of  my  daughter ;  which,  in  the  mi- 
nority of  them  both,  his  majesty,  out  of  a  self-gra- 
cious remembrance,  did  first  propose :  his  highness 
hath  promised  me  to  do  it :  and,  to  stop  up  the  dis- 
pleasure 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 
remain  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. 

7  So  he  is.  My  lord,  that's  gone,  made  himself  much  sport  out 
of  him :  by  his  authority  he  remains  here,  which  he  thinks  is  a 
patent  for  his  sauciness ;  and,  indeed,  he  has  no  pace,  but  runs 
■where  he  will.]  Should  not  we  read — no  place,  that  is,  no  station, 
er  office  in  the  family  ?     Tyrwhitt. 

A  pace  is  a  certain  or  prescribed  walk  ;  so  we  say  of  a  man 
xneanly  obsequious,  that  he  has  learned  his  paces,  ana  of  a  horse 
who  mores  irregularly,  that  he  has  no  paces.    Johnson. 


378  ALL'S  WELL  act  iv. 


Re-enter  Clown. 

Clo.  O  madam,  yonder's  my  lord  your  son  with 
a  patch  of  velvet  on's  face :  whether  there  be  a  scar 
under  it,  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 ; 8  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  deli- 
cate fine  hats,  and  most  courteous  feathers,  which 
bow  the  head,  and  nod  at  every  man.1      \JLxeunt. 

•  Laf.  A  scar  nobly  got,  &c]  This  speech,  in  the  second 
folio,  and  the  modern  editions,  is  given  to  the  Countess,  and 
perhaps  rightly.  It  is  more  probable  that  she  should  have  spoken 
thus  favourably  of  Bertram,  than  Lafeu.  In  the  original  copy,  to 
each  of  the  speeches  of  the  Countess,  Lad.  or  La.  [i.  e.  Lady] 
is  prefixed  ;  so  that  the  mistake  was  very  easy.     Ma  lone. 

I  do  not  discover  the  improbability  of  this  commendation  from 
Lafeu,  who  is  at  present  anxious  to  marry  his  own  daughter  to 
Bertram.     Steevens. 

D carbonadoed  — ]  i.  e.  scotched  like  a  piece  of  meat  for 

the  gridiron.     So,  in  Coriolanus:  "  Before  Corioli,  he  scotched 
and  notched  him  like  a  carbonado."     Steevens. 

The  word  is  again  used  in  King  Lear.  Kent  says  to  the 
Steward — 

"  111  carbonado  your  shanks  for  you."     Ma  lone. 

1 feathers,  which nod  at  every  man.]  So,  in  Antony 

and  Cleopatra  : 

" a  blue  promontory, 

"  With  trees  upon't,  that  nod  unto  the  world — ." 

Steevens. 


:actv.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  373 

ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

Marseilles.    A  Street 

■ 
Enter  Helena,  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  ; 

Enter  a  gentle  Astringer.2 

This  man  may  help  me  to  his  majesty's  ear, 

If  he  would  spend  his  power. — God  save  you,  sir. 

8  Enter  a  gentle  Astringer.]  Perhaps  a  gentle  stranger,  i.  e. 
a  stranger  of  gentle  condition,  a  gentleman. — The  error  of  thi$ 
conjecture,  (which  I  have  learned,  since  our  first  edition  made 
its  appearance,  from  an  old  book  of  Falconry,  1633,)  should 
teach  diffidence  to  those  who  conceive  the  words  which  they  do 
not  understand  to  be  corruptions.  An  ostringer  or  astringer  is 
a  falconer,  and  such  a  character  was  probably  to  be  met  with 
about  a  court  which  was  famous  for  the  love  of  that  diversion. 
So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  We'll  e'en  to  it  like  French  Falconers." 

A  gentle  astringer  is  a  gentleman  falconer.  The  word  is 
derived  from  ostercus  or  austercics,  a  goshawk ;  and  thus,  says 
Cowell,  in  his  Law  Dictionary:  "  We  usually  call  a  falconer, 
who  keeps  that  kind  of  hawk,  an  austringer."  Again,  in  The 
Book  of  Hawking,  &c.  hi.  1.  no  date :  "  Now  bicause  I  spoke 
of  ostregiers,  ye  snail  understand  that  they  ben  called  ostregiers 
that  keep  gosshauks  or  tercels,"  &c.    I  learn  from  Blount's 


380  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

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 : 

He  hence  remov'd  last  night,  and  with  more  haste 
Than  is  his  use. 

Win.  Lord,  how  we  lose  our  pains ! 

Hel.  AlVs  well  that  ends  well ;  yet ; 
Though  time  seem  so  adverse,  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, 


Antient  Tenures,  that  a  "  gosshawk  is  in  our  records  termed 
by  the  several  names  Ostercum,  Hostricum,  Estricum,  Asturcum, 
and  Austureum"  and  all  from  the  French  Austour.    Stbbvens. 


sc.  n.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  381 

But  rather  make  you  thank  your  pains  for  it: 
I  will  come  after  you,  with  what  good  speed 
Our  means  will  make  us  means.3 

Gent.  This  I'll  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.  \Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

Rousillon.  The  inner  Court  of  the  Countess's  Palace. 

Enter  Clown  and  Parolles.  • 

Par.  Good  monsieur  Lavatch,4  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  moat,  and  smell  somewhat  strong  of  her 
strong  displeasure.5 


3  Our  means  will  make  us  means."]  Shakspeare  delights  much 
in  this  kind  of  reduplication,  sometimes  so  as  to  obscure  his 
meaning.  Helena  says,  they  will  follow  with  such  speed  as 
the  means  which  they  have  will  give  them  ability  to  exert. 

Johnson; 

* Lavatch,]  This  is  an  undoubted,  and  perhaps  irre- 
mediable corruption,  of  some  French  word.     Steevens. 

s but  I  am  now,  sir,  muddied  in  fortune's  moat,  &c] 

In  former  editions — but  I  am  now,  sir,  muddied  in  fortune's 
mood,  and  smell  somewhat  strong  of  her  strong  displeasure.  I 
believe  the  poet  wrote — in  fortune 's  moat ;  because  the  Clown, 
in  the  very  next  speech,  replies — "  I  will  henceforth  eat  no  Jish 
of  fortune's  buttering ;"  and  again,  when  he  comes  to  repeat 
Parolles's  petition  to  Lafcu,  **  That  hath  fallen  into  the  unclean 


382  ALL'S  WELL  act  m 

Clo.  Truly,  fortune's  displeasure  is  but  sluttish, 
if  it  smell  so  strong  as  thou  speakest  of:  I  will  hence- 

Jishpond  of  her  displeasure,  and,  as  he  says,  is  muddied  withal." 
And  again—"  Pray  you,  sir,  use  the  carp  as  you  may,"  &c. 
In  all  which  places,  it  is  obvious  a  moat  or  a  pond  is  the  allu- 
sion. Besides,  Parolles  smelling  strong,  as  he  says,  of  fortune's 
strong  displeasure,  carries  on  the  same  image ;  for  as  the  moats 
round  old  seats  were  always  replenished  with  fish,  so  the  Clown's 
joke  of  holding  his  note,  we  may  presume,  proceeded  from 
this,  that  the  privy  was  always  over  the  moat ;  and  therefore 
the  Clown  humorously  says,  when  Parolles  is  pressing  him  to 
deliver  his  letter  to  Lord  Lafeu,  "  Foh  !  pr'ythee  stand  away ; 
a  paper  from  fortune's  closestool,  to  give  to  a  nobleman  !" 

Warburton. 
Dr.  Warburton's  correction  may  be  supported  by  a  passage  in 
The  Alchemist: 

"  Subtle.  Come  along,  sir, 

"  I  must  shew  you  Fortune's  privy  lodgings. 

"  Face.  Are  they  perfum'd,  and  his  bath  ready  ? 
"Sub.  All. 
"  Only  the  fumigation  somewhat  strong."     Farmer. 

By  the  whimsical  caprice  of  Fortune,  I  am  fallen  into  the 
mud,  and  smell  somewhat  strong  of  her  displeasure.  In  Pericles, 
Prince  of  Tyre,  1609,  we  meet  with  the  same  phrase: 

"  — —  but  Fortune's  mood 

«*  Varies  again." 
Again,  in  Timon  of  Athens: 

"  When  fortune,  in  her  shift  and  change  of  mood, 

"  Spurns  down  her  late  belov'd," 
Again,  in  Julius  Ccesar  ': 

"  Fortune  is  merry, 

"  And  in  this  mood  will  give  us  any  thing." 
Mood  is  again  used  for  resentment  or  caprice  in  Othello  :  "  You 
are  but  now  cast  in  his  mood,  a  punishment  more  in  policy  than 
in  malice." 

Again,  for  anger,  in  the  old  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  1607  : 

** This  brain-sick  man, 

"  That  in  his  mood  cares  not  to  murder  me." 
Dr.  Warburton,  in  his  edition,  changed  mood  into  moat,  and 
his  emendation  was  adopted,  I  think,  without  necessity,  by  the 
subsequent  editors.  All  the  expressions  enumerated  by  him, — 
"  I  will  eat  no  fish," — "  he  hath  fallen  into  the  unclean  fish' 
pond  of  her  displeasure,"  &c. — agree  sufficiently  well  with  the 


"*?..  ft.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  383 

forth  eat  no  fish  of  fortune's  buttering.    Pr'ythee, 
allow  the  wind.8 

Par.  Nay*  you  need  not  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.7 
Pr'ythee,  get  thee  further. 


text,  without  any  change.  Parolles  having  talked  metaphorically 
of  being  muddy* d  by  the  displeasure  of  fortune,  the  Clown,  to 
render  him  ridiculous,  supposes  him  to  have  actually  fallen  into 
a  jishpond.    M  a  l  o  n  e  . 

Though  Mr.  Malone  defends  the  old  reading,  I  have  retained 
Dr.  Warburton's  emendation,  which,  in  my  opinion,  is  one  of 
the  luckiest  ever  produced.     Steevens. 

6  allotv  the  wind.']  i.  e.  stand  to  the  leeward  of  me. 

Steevens. 

7  Indeed,  sir,  if  your  metaphor  stink,  I  xioill  stop  my  nose j 
or  against  any  manys  metaphor.']  Nothing  could  be  conceived 
with  greater  humour  or  justness  of  satire,  than  this  speech.  The 
use  of  the  stinking  metaphor  is  an  odious  fault,  which  grave 
writers  often  commit.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  moral  de- 
claimers  against  vice  describe  her  as  Hesiod  did  the  fury 
Tristitia:  J* 

"  Tys  ex.  plvwv  pvtcci  pgov." 
Upon  which  Longinus  justly  observes,  that,  instead  of  giving  a 
terrible  image,  he  has  given  a  very  nasty  one.  Cicero  cautions 
well  against  it,  in  his  book  de  Orat.  "  Quoniam  hesc,  says  he, 
vel  summa  laus  est  in  verbis  transferendis  ut  sensum  Jeriat  id, 
quod  translatum  sit,Jugienda  est  omnis  turpitudo  earum  rerum,  ad 
quas  eorum  animos  qui  audiunt  trahet  similitudo.  Nolo  morte 
dici  Africani  castratam  esse  rempublicam.  Nolo  sturcus  curia 
did  Glauciam"  Our  poet  himself  is  extremely  delicate  in  this 
respect ;  who,  throughout  his  large  writings,  if  you  except  a 
passage  in  Hamlet,  has  scarce  a  metaphor  that  can  offend  the 
most  squeamish  reader.     Warburton. 

Dr.  Warburton's  recollection  must  have  been  weak,  or  his 
zeal  for  his  author  extravagant,  otherwise  he  could  not  have 
ventured  to  countenance  him  on  the  score  of  delicacy ;  his 
offensive  metaphors  and  allusions  being  undoubtedly  more  fre- 
quent than  those  of  all  his  dramatick  predecessors  or  con- 
temporaries.   Steevens. 


384  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

Par.  Pray  you,  sir,  deliver  me  this  paper. 

Clo.  Foh,  pr'ythee,  stand  away ;  A  paper  from 
fortune's  close-stool  to  give  to  a  nobleman !  Look, 
here  he  comes  himself. 

Enter  Lapeu. 

Here  is  a  pur  of  fortune's,  sir,  or  of  fortune's 
cat,8  (but  not  a  musk-cat,)  that  has  fallen  into  the 
unclean  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  dis- 
tress in  my  smiles  of  comfort,9  and  leave  him  to 
your  lordship.  \_Exit  Clown. 

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 


■  Here  is  a  pur  of fortune' 's,  sir,  or  of  fortune's  cat,"]  Wc 
should  read — or  fortune's  cat ;  and,  indeed,  I  believe  there  is 
an  error  in  the  former  part  of  the  sentence,  and  that  we  ought 
to  read — Here  is  a  puss  of  fortune1  sy  instead  of  pur. 

M.  Mason. 

9 /  do  pity  his  distress  in  my  smiles  of  comfort,"]  We 

should  read — similes  of  comfort,  such  as  the  calling  him  fortune's 
cat,  carp,  &c.     Warburton. 

The  meaning  is,  I  testify  my  pity  for  his  distress,  by  encou- 
raging him  with  a  gracious  smile.     The  old  reading  may  stand. 

Heath* 

Dr.  Warburton's  proposed  emendation  may  be  countenanced 
by  an  entry  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers*  Company,  1595: 
"  — A  booke  of  verie  pythie  similies,  confortable  and  profitable 
for  all  men  to  reade,*' 

The  same  mistake  occurs  in  the  old  copies  of  King  Henry  IV. 
P.  L  where,  instead  of  "  unsavoury  similes"  we  have  M  unsavoury 
smiles."     Sikevens. 


sc.  it.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  385 

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?1 
There's  a  quart  d'ecu  for  you :  Let  the  justices 
make  you  and  fortune  friends  j  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.2 

Par.  My  name,  my  good  lord,  is  Parolles. 

Laf.  You  beg  more  than  one  word  then.3 — Cox' 
my  passion !  give  me  your  hand : — How  does  your 
drum  ? 

Par.  O  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  me  at  once  both  the  office  of  God  and  the 
devil  ?  one  brings  thee  in  grace, and  the  other  brings 
thee  out.  [Trumpets  sound.]  The  king's  coming, 
I  know  by  his  trumpets. — Sirrah,  inquire  further 

1 under  her  ?]    Her,  which  is  not  in  the  first  copy,  was 

supplied  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

* save  your  'word.']  i.  e.  you  need  not  ask ; — here  it  is. 

Malone. 

3  You  beg  more  than  one  word  then.']  A  quibble  is  intended 
on  the  word  Parolles,  which,  in  French,  is  plural,  and  signifies 
words.  One,  which  is  not  found  in  the  old  cop}-,  was  added, 
perhaps  unnecessarily,  by  the  editor  of  the  third  folio. 

Malone. 
vol.  VIII.  C  c 


386  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

after  me ;  I  had  talk  of  you  last  night :  though  you 
are  a  fool  and  a  knave,  you  shall  eat;4  go  to, 
follow. 

Par.  I  praise  God  for  you.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

The  same.    A  Room  in  the  Countess's  Palace. 

Flourish.     Enter  King,  Countess,  Lafeu,  Lords, 
Gentlemen,  Guards,  fyc. 

King.  We  lost  a  jewel  of  her ;  and  our  esteem r* 
Was  made  much  poorer  by  it :  but  your  son, 
As  mad  in  folly,  lack'd  the  sense  to  know 
Her  estimation  home.6 

4 you  shall  eat ;]  Parolles  has  many  of  the  lineaments 

of  Falstaff,  and  seems  to  be  the  character  which  Shakspeare 
delighted  to  draw,  a  fellow  that  had  more  wit  than  virtue. 
Though  justice  required  that  he  should  be  detected  and  exposed, 
yet  his  vices  sit  so  jit  in  him  that  he  is  not  at  last  suffered  to 
•tarve.     Johnson. 

4 esteem — ]  Dr.  Warburton,  in  Theobald's  edition,  al- 
tered this  word  to  estate ;  in  his  own  he  lets  it  stand,  and  ex- 
plains it  by  worth  or  estate.  But  esteem  is  here  reckoning  or 
estimate.  Since  the  loss  of  Helen,  with  her  virtues  and  qualifi- 
cations, our  account  is  sunk;  what  we  have  to  reckon  ourselves 
king  of,  is  much  poorer  than  before.    Johnson. 

Meaning  that  his  esteem  was  lessened  in  its  value  by  Bertram's 
misconduct;  since  a  person  who  was  honoured  with  it  could 
be  so  ill  treated  as  Helena  had  been,  and  that  with  impunity. 
Johnson's  explanation  is  very  unnatural.     M.  Mason. 

'  -   ■    home.]    That  is,  completely,  in  its  full  extent. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  Macbeth:  "  That  thrusted  home"  &c.    Malone. 


sc.  m.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  387 

Count.  'Tis  past,  my  liege : 

And  I  beseech  your  majesty  to  make  it 
Natural  rebellion,  done  i'the  blaze  of  youth;7 
When  oil  and  fire,  too  strong  for  reason's  force, 
O'erbears  it,  and  burns  on. 

King.  My  honour'd  lady, 

I  have  forgiven  and  forgotten  all ; 
Though  my  revenges  were  high  bent  upon  him, 
And  watch'd  the  time  to  shoot. 

Laf.  This  I  must  say, — — 

But  first  I  beg  my  pardon, — The  young  lord 
Did  to  his  majesty,  his  mother,  and  his  lady, 
Offence  of  mighty  note ;  but  to  himself 
The  greatest  wrong  of  all :  he  lost  a  wife, 
Whose  beauty  did  astonish  the  survey 
Of  richest  eyes  ;8  whose  words  all  ears  took  cap- 
tive ; 


7 blaze  of  youth;]  The  old  copy  reads — blade. 

Steevens. 

"  Blade  of  youth"  is  the  spring  of  early  life,  when  the  man 
is  yet  green.  Oil  and  fire  suit  but  ill  with  blade,  and  therefore 
Dr.  Warburton  reads,  blaze  of  youth.     Johnson. 

This  very  probable  emendation  was  first  proposed  by  Mr. 
Theobald,  who  has  produced  these  two  passages  in  support 
of  it: 

" I  do  know 

"  When  the  blood  burns,  how  prodigal  the  soul 

"  Lends  the  tongue  vows.  These  blazes"  &c.  Hamlet. 
Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida  : 

u  For  Hector,  in  his  blaze  of  wrath,"  &c.     Malone. 

In  Hamlet  we  have  also  "flaming  youth,"  and  in  the  present 
comedy  "  the  quick  fire  of  youth."  I  read,  therefore,  without 
hesitation, — blaze.     Steevens. 

•  Of  richest  eyes  ,-"]  Shakspeare  means  that  her  beauty  had 
astonished  those,  who,  having  seen  the  greatest  number  of  fair 
women,  might  be  said  to  be  the  richest  in  ideas  of  beauty.  So, 
in  As  you  like  it :  "  —  to  have  seen  much  and  to  have  nothing, 
is  to  have  rich  eyes  and  poor  hands."     Steevens. 

c  c  2 


388  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

Whose  dear  perfection,  hearts  that  scorn'd  to  serve, 
Humbly  call'd  mistress. 

King.  Praising  what  is  lost, 

Makes  the  remembrance  dear. Well,  call  him 

hither ; 

We  are  reconcil'd,  and  the  first  view  shall  kill 
All  repetition  : 9 — Let  him  not  ask  our  pardon ; 
The  nature  of  his  great  offence  is  dead, 
And  deeper  than  oblivion  do  we  bury 
The  incensing  relicks  of  it :  let  him  approach, 
A  stranger,  no  offender ;  and  inform  him, 
So  'tis  our  will  he  should. 

Gent.  I  shall,  my  liege. 

[Exit  Gentleman. 

King.  What  says  he  to  your  daughter?  have  you 
spoke  ? 

Laf.  All  that  he  is  hath  reference  to  your  high- 
ness. 

King.  Then  shall  we  have  a  match.     I  have 
letters  sent  me, 
That  set  him  high  in  fame. 

9 the  first  view  shall  kill 

All  repetition  .•]  The  first  interview  shall  put  an  end  to 
all  recollection  of  the  past.  Shakspeare  is  now  hastening  to  the 
end  of  the  play,  finds  his  matter  sufficient  to  fill  up  his  remain- 
ing scenes,  and  therefore,  as  on  such  other  occasions,  contracts 
his  dialogue  and  precipitates  his  action.  Decency  required  that 
Bertram's  double  crime  of  cruelty  and  disobedience,  joined  like- 
wise witli  some  hypocrisy,  should  raise  more  resentment ;  and 
that  though  his  mother  might  easily  forgive  him,  his  king  should 
more  pertinaciously  vindicate  his  own  authority  and  Helen's 
merit.  Of  all  this  Shakspeare  could  not  be  ignorant,'  but  Shak- 
speare wanted  to  conclude  his  play.    Johnson. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  389 


Enter  Bertram. 

Laf.  He  looks  well  on't. 

King.  I  am  not  a  day  of  season,1 
For  thou  may'st  see  a  sun-shine  and  a  hail 
In  me  at  once  :  But  to  the  brightest  beams 
Distracted  clouds  give  way ;  so  stand  thou  forth, 
The  time  is  fair  again. 

Ber.  My  high-repented  blames,2 

Dear  sovereign  pardon  to  me. 

King.  All  is  whole  j 

Not  one  word  more  of  the  consumed  time. 
Let's  take  the  instant  by  the  forward  top  ; 
For  we  are  old,  and  on  our  quick'st  decrees 
The  inaudible  and  noiseless  foot  of  time 
Steals  ere  we  can  effect  them  :3  You  remember 
The  daughter  of  this  lord  ? 

Ber.  Admiringly,  my  liege  :  at  first 

1  /  am  not  a  day  of  season,"]  That  is,  of  uninterrupted  rain  : 
one  of  those  wet  days  that  usually  happen  about  the  vernal 
equinox.    A  similar  expression  occurs  in  The  Rape  of  Lucrece  : 

"  But  I  alone,  alone  must  sit  and  pine, 

"  Seasoning  the  earth  with  showers.'' 
The  word  is  still  used  in  the  same  sense  in  Virginia,  in  which 
government,  and  especially  on  the  eastern  shore  of  it,  where  the 
descendants  of  the  first  settlers  have  been  less  mixed  with  later 
emigrants,  many  expressions  of  Shakspeare's  time  are  still  cur- 
rent.   Henley. 

*  My  high-repented  blames,"]   High-repented  blames,  are  faults 
repented  of  to  the  height,  to  the  utmost.     Shakspeare  has  high- 
fantastical  in  Twelfth-Night.     Steevens. 

3  The  inaudible  and  noiseless  foot  of  time  &c]  This  idea 
seems  to  have  been  caught  from  the  third  Book  of  Sidney's 
Arcadia:  "  The  summons  of  Time  had  so  creepingly  stolne 
upon  him,  that  hee  had  heard  scarcely  the  noise  of  his  feet*'' 

Steevens. 


390  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

I  stuck  my  choice  upon  her,  ere  my  heart 
Durst  make  too  bold  a  herald  of  my  tongue  : 
Where  the  impression  of  mine  eye  infixing, 
Contempt  his  scornful  perspective  did  lend  me, 
Which  warp'd  the  line  of  every  other  favour ; 
Scorn'd  a  fair  colour,  or  express'd  it  stol'nj 
Extended  or  contracted  all  proportions, 
To  a  most  hideous  object :  Thence  it  came, 
That  she,  whom  all  men  prais'd,  and  whom  my- 
self, 
Since  I  have  lost,  have  lov'd,  was  in  mine  eye 
The  dust  that  did  offend  it. 

King.  Well  excus'd : 

That  thou  didst  love  her,  strikes  some  scores  away 
For  the  great  compt :  But  love,  that  comes  too 

late, 
Like  a  remorseful  pardon  slowly  carried, 
To  the  great  sender  turns  a  sour  offence, 
Crying,  That's  good  that's  gone :  our  rash  faults 
Make  trivial  price  of  serious  things  we  have, 
Not  knowing  them,  until  we  know  their  grave : 
Oft  our  displeasures,  to  ourselves  unjust, 
Destroy  our  friends,  and  after  weep  their  dust : 
Our  own  love  waking  cries  to  see  what's  done, 
While  shameful  hate  sleeps  out  the  afternoon.4 


4  Our  own  love  waking  &c]  These  two  lines  I  should  be  glad 
to  call  an  interpolation  of  a  player.  They  are  ill  connected  with 
the  former,  and  not  very  clear  or  proper  in  themselves.  I  be- 
lieve the  author  made  two  couplets  to  the  same  purpose ;  wrote 
them  both  down  that  he  might  take  his  choice  ;  and  so  they 
happened  to  be  both  preserved. 

For  sleep  I  think  we  should  read  slept.  Love  cries  to  see  what 
was  done  while  hatred  slept,  and  suffered  mischief  to  be  done. 
Or  the  meaning  may  be,  that  hatred  still  continues  to  sleep  at 
ease,  while  love  is  weeping ;  and  so  the  present  reading  may 
stand.    Johnson. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  391 

Be  this  sweet  Helen's  knell,  and  now  forget  her. 
Send  forth  your  amorous  token  for  fair  Maudlin : 
The  main  consents  are  had ;  and  here  we'll  stay 
To  see  our  widower's  second  marriage-day. 

Count.  Which  better  than  the  first,  O  dear  hea- 
ven, bless  ! 
Or,  ere  they  meet,  in  me,  O  nature,  cease ! 5 

Laf.  Come  on, my  son,  in  whom  my  house's  name 
Must  be  digested,  give  a  favour  from  you, 
To  sparkle  in  the  spirits  of  my  daughter, 
That  she  may  quickly  come. — By  my  old  beard, 
And  every  hair  that's  on't,  Helen,  that's  dead, 
Was  a  sweet  creature  ;  such  a  ring  as  this, 

I  cannot  comprehend  this  passage  as  it  stands,  and  have  no 
doubt  but  we  should  read — 

Our  old  love  waking,  &c. 
Extinctus  amabitur  idem. 
Our  own  love,  can  mean  nothing  but  our  self-love  i which  would 
not  be  sense  in  this  place ;  but  our  old  love  waking,  means  our 
former  affection  being  revived.     M.  Mason. 

This  conjecture  appears  to  me  extremely  probable ;  but 
waking  will  not,  I  think,  here  admit  of  Mr.  M.  Mason's  inter- 
pretation, being  revived;  norj  indeed,  is  it  necessary  to  his 
emendation.  It  is  clear,  from  the  subsequent  line,  that  waking 
is  here  used  in  its  ordinary  sense.  Hate  sleeps  at  ease,  unmo- 
lested by  any  remembrance  of  the  dead,  while  old  love,  re- 
proaching itself  for  not  having  been  sufficiently  kind  to  a  de- 
parted friend,  "  wakes  and  weeps ;"  crying,  "  that's  good  that's 
gone."     Maloxe. 

4  Which  better  than  the  first,  0  dear  heaven,  bless  I 
Or,  ere  they  meet,  in  me,  O  nature,  cease .']  I  have  ventured, 
against  the  authorities  of  the  printed  copies,  to  prefix  the 
Countess's  name  to  these  two  lines.  The  King  appears,  indeed, 
to  be  a  favourer  of  Bertram ;  but  if  Bertram  should  make  a 
bad  husband  the  second  time,  why  should  it  give  the  King  such 
mortal  pangs?  A  fond  and  disappointed  mother  might  rea- 
sonably not  desire  to  live  to  see  such  a  day ;  and  from  her  the 
wish  of  dying,  rather  than  to  behold  it,  comes  with  propriety. 

Theobald. 


392  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

The  last  that  e'er  I  took  her  leave8  at  court, 
I  saw  upon  her  finger. 

Ber.  Hers  it  was  not. 

King.  Now,  pray  you,  let  me  see  it;  for  mine 
eye, 
While  I  was  speaking,  oft  was  fasten'd  to't. — 
This  ring  was  mine ;  and,  when  I  gave  it  Helen, 
I  bade  her,  if  her  fortunes  ever  stood 
Necessitied  to  help,  that 7  by  this  token 
I  would  relieve  her:  Had  you  that  craft,  to  reave  her 
Of  what  should  stead  her  most  ? 

Ber.  My  gracious  sovereign, 

Howe'er  it  pleases  you  to  take  it  so, 
The  ring  was  never  her's. 

Count.  Son,  on  my  life, 

I  have  seen  her  wear  it ;  and  she  reckon'd  it 
At  her  life's  rate. 

Laf.  I  am  sure,  I  saw  her  wear  it. 

Ber.  You  are  deceiv'd,  my  lord,  she  never  saw  it: 
In  Florence  was  it  from  a  casement  thrown  me,8 
Wrapp'd  in  a  paper,  which  contain'd  the  name 
Of  her  that  threw  it :  noble  she  was,  and  thought 

6  The  last  that  e'er  I  took  her  leave  — ]  The  last  time  that  I 
saw  her,  when  she  was  leaving  the  court.  Mr.  Rowe  and  the 
subsequent  editors  read — that  e'er  she  tooky  &e.     Malone. 

7  /bade  her, if  her  fortunes  ever  stood 

Necessitied  to  help,  that — ]  Our  author  here,  as  in  many 
other  places,  seems  to  have  forgotten,  in  the  close  of  the  sen- 
tence, how  lie  began  to  construct  it.  See  p.  208,  n.  8.  The 
meaning  however  is  clear,  and  I  do  not  suspect  any  corruption. 

Malone. 

•  In  Florence  was  it  from  a  casement  thrown  me,"]  Bertram 
still  continues  to  have  too  little  virtue  to  deserve  Helen.  He 
did  not  know  indeed  that  it  was  Helen's  ring,  but  he  knew  that 
he  had  it  not  from  a  window.     Johnson. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  393 

I  stood  ingag'd:8  but  when  I  had  subscrib'd 
To  mine  own  fortune,  and  inform'd  her  fully, 
I  could  not  answer  in  that  course  of  honour 
As  she  had  made  the  overture,  she  ceas'd, 
In  heavy  satisfaction,  and  would  never 
Receive  the  ring  again.  - 

King.  Plutus  himself, 

That  knows  the  tinct  and  multiplying  medicine,9 
Hath  not  in  nature's  mystery  more  science, 
Than  I  have  in  this  ring:  'twas  mine,  'twas  Helen's, 
Whoever  gave  it  you:  Then,  if  you  know 

•  ■         noble  she  ivas,  and  thought 
I  stood  ingag'd :]    Thus  the  old  copy.  Dr.  Johnson  reads — 
engaged.     Steevbns. 

The  plain  meaning  is,  when  she  saw  me  receive  the  ring,  she 
thought  rne  engaged  to  her.     Johnson. 

Ingag'd  may  be  intended  in  the  same  sense  with  the  reading 
proposed  by  Mr.  Theobald,  [ungag'd,~\  i.  e.  not  engaged;  as 
Shakspeare,  in  another  place,  uses  gag'd  for  engaged.  Merchant 
of  Venice,  Act  I.  sc.  i.     Tyrwhitt. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  ingaged  (the  reading  of  the  folio)  is 
right. 

Gaged  is  used  by  other  writers,  as  well  as  by  Shakspeare, 
for  engaged.     So,  in  a  Pastoral,  by  Daniel,  1605: 
"  Not  that  the  earth  did  gage 
*'  Unto  the  husbandman 
"  Her  voluntary  fruits,  free  without  fees." 
Ingaged,  in  the  sense  of  unengaged,  is  a  word  of  exactly  the 
same  formation  as  inhabitable,  which  is  used  by  Shakspeare  and 
the  contemporary  writers  for  uninhabitable.     Malone. 

9  Plutus  himself, 
That  knoivs  the  tinct  and  multiplying  medicine,']  Plutus, 
the  grand  alchemist,  who  knows  the  tincture  which  confers  the 
properties  of  gold  upon  base  metals,  and  the  matter  by  which 
gold  is  multiplied,  by  which  a  small  quantity  of  gold  is  made  to 
communicate  its  qualities  to  a  large  mass  or  base  metal. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Fourth  a  law  was  made  to  forbid 
all  men  thenceforth  to  multiply  gold,  or  use  any  craft  qf  multi- 
plication. Of  which  law,  Mr.  Boyle,  when  he  was  warm  with 
the  hope  of  transmutation,  procured  a  repeal.    Johnson. 


394  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

That  you  are  well  acquainted  with  yourself, 
Confess  'twas  hers,1  and  by  what  rough  enforcement 
You  got  it  from  her  :  she  call'd  the  saints  to  surety, 
That  she  would  never  put  it  from  her  finger, 
Unless  she  gave  it  to  yourself  in  bed, 
(Where  you  have  never  come,)  or  sent  it  us 
Upon  her  great  disaster. 

Ber,  She  never  saw  it. 

King.  Thou  speak'st  it  falsely,  as  I  love  mine 
honour ; 
And  mak'st  conjectural  fears  to  come  into  me, 
Which  I  would  fain  shut  out :  If  it  should  prove 
That  thou  art  so  inhuman, — 'twill  not  prove  so ; — 
And  yet  I  know  not : — thou  didst  hate  her  deadly, 
And  she  is  dead  ;  which  nothing,  but  to  close 
Her  eyes  myself,  could  win  me  to  believe, 
More  than  to  see  this  ring. — Take  him  away. — 

[Guards  seize  Bertram. 
My  fore-past  proofs,  howe'er  the  matter  fall, 
Shall  tax  my  fears  of  little  vanity, 
Having  vainly  fear'd  too  little.2 — Away  with  him; — 
We'll  sift  this  matter  further. 


1  Then,  if  you  know- 
That  yon  are  well  acquainted  with  yourself, 
Confess  'twas  hers,']    i.  e.  confess  the   ring   was  hers,  for 
you  know  it  as  well  as  you  know  that  you  are  yourself. 

Edwards. 

The  true  meaning  of  this  expression  is,  If  you  know  that  your 
faculties  are  so  sound,  as  that  you  have  the  proper  consciousness 
of  your  own  actions,  and  are  able  to  recollect  and  relate  what 
you  have  done,  tell  me,  &c.     Johnson. 

*  My  fore-past  proofs,  howe'er  the  matter  foil, 

Shall  tax  my  fears  of  little  vanity, 

Having  vainly  fear'd  too  little.']  The  proofs  which  I  have 
already  had  are  sufficient  to  show  that  my  fears  were  not  vain 
and  irrational.  I  have  rather  been  hitherto  more  easy  than  I 
ought,  and  have  unreasonably  had  too  little  four.    Johnson. 


sc.  m.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  395 

Ber.  If  you  shall  prove 

This  ring  was  ever  hers,  you  shall  as  easy 
Prove  that  I  husbanded  her  bed  in  Florence, 
Where  yet  she  never  was. 

[Exit  Bertram,  guarded. 

Enter  a  Gentleman. 

King.  I  am  wrapp'd  in  dismal  thinkings. 

Gent.  Gracious  sovereign, 

Whether  I  have  been  to  blame,  or  no,  I  know  not ; 
Here's  a  petition  from  a  Florentine, 
Who  hath,  for  four  or  five  removes,  come  short 
To  tender  it  herself.3     I  undertook  it, 
Vanquished  thereto  by  the  fair  grace  and  speech 
Of  the  poor  suppliant,  who  by  this,  I  know, 
Is  here  attending :  her  business  looks  in  her 
With  an  importing  visage  ;  anil  she  told  me, 
In  a  sweet  verbal  brief,  it  did  concern 
Your  highness  with  herself. 

King.  [Reads.]  Upon  his  many  protestations  to 
marry  me,  when  his  wife  was  dead,  I  blush  to  say 
it,  he  won  me.  Now  is  the  count  Rousillon  a 
widower;  his  vows  are  forfeited  to  me,  and  my 
honour* s  paid  to  him.  He  stole  from  Florence, 
taking  no  leave,  and  I  follow  him  to  his  country 
for  justice :  Grant  it  me,  O  king ;  in  you  it  best 


f  3  Who  hath,  for  four  or  jive  removes,  come  short  &c]  Who 
hath  missed  the  opportunity  of  presenting  it  in  person  to  your 
majesty,  either  at  Marseilles,  or  on  the  road  from  thence  to 
Rousillon,  in  consequence  of  having  been  four  or  five  removes 
behind  you.     Malone. 

Removes  arejournics  or  post-stages.    Johnson. 


396  ALL'S  WELL  Aer  r. 

lies ;  otherwise  a  seducer  flourishes,  and  a  poor 
maid  is  undone, 

Diana  Capulet. 

Laf.  I  will  buy  me  a  son-in-law  in  a  fair,  and 
toll  him  :  for  this,  I'll  none  of  him.4 


4  /  will  buy  me  a  son-in-law  in  a  fair ;  and  toll  him  :  for  this, 
I'll  none  of  him.']  Thus  the  second  folio.  The  first  omits — 
him.     Either  reading  is  capable  of  explanation. 

The  meaning  of  the  earliest  copy  seems  to  be  this :  I'll  buy 
me  a  new  son-in-law,  &c.  and  toll  the  bell  for  this ;  i.  e.  look; 
upon  him  as  a  dead  man.  The  second  reading,  as  Dr.  Percy 
suggests,  may  imply:  I'll  buy  me  a  son-in-law  as  they  buy  a 
horse  in  a  fair;  toul  him,  i.  e.  enter  him  on  the  toul  or  toll- 
book,  to  prove  I  came  honestly  by  him,  and  ascertain  my  title 
to  him.  In  a  play  called  The  famous  History  of  Tho.  Stukely, 
1605,  is  an  allusion  to  this  custom: 

"  Gov.  I  will  be  answerable  to  thee  for  thy  horses. 

"  Stick.  Dost  thou  keep  a  tole-booth  ?  zounds,  dost  thou  make 
a  horse-courser  of  me?" 

Again,  in  Hudibras,  P.  II.  c.  i: 

" a  roan  gelding 

"  Where,  when,  by  whom,  and  what  y'were  sold  for 
"  And  in  the  open  market  tolVd  for." 

Alluding  (as  Dr.  Grey  observes)  to  the  two  statutes  relating 
to  the  sale  of  horses,  2  and  3  Phil,  and  Mary,  and  31  Eliz. 
c.  12.  and  publickly  tolling  them  in  fairs,  to  prevent  the  sale  of 
such  as  were  stolen,  and  to  preserve  the  property  to  the  right 
owner. 

The  previous  mention  of  a  fair  seems  to  justify  the  reading  I 
have  adopted  from  the  second  folio.     Steevens. 

The  passage  should  be  pointed  thus : 

/  will  buy  me  a  son-in-law  in  a  fair,  and  toll; 
For  this  Fll  none  qfhimi 
That  is,   u  I'll  buy  me  a  son-in-law  in  a  fair,  and  pay  toll ;  as 
for  this,  I  will  have  none  of  him."     M.  Mason. 

The  meaning,  I  think,  is,  "  I  will  purchase  a  son-in-law  at 
a  fair,  and  get  rid  of  this  worthless  fellow,  by  tolling  him  out 
of  it."  To  toll  a  person  out  of  a  fair  was  a  phrase  of  the  time. 
So,  in  Camden's  Remaines,  1605 :  "  At  a  Bartholomew  Faire 
at  London  there  was  an  escheator  of  the  same  city,  that  had 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  397 

King.  The  heavens  have  thought  well  on  thee, 
Lafeu, 
To  bring  forth  this  discovery. — Seek  these  suitors : — 
Go,  speedily,  and  bring  again  the  count. 

\_Eoceunt  Gentleman,  and  some  Attendants. 
I  am  afeard,  the  life  of  Helen,  lady, 
Was  foully  snatch'd. 

Count.  Now,  justice  on  the  doers ! 


Enter  Bertram,  guarded. 

King.  I  wonder,  sir,  since  wives  are  monsters 
to  you,5 


arrested  a  clothier  that  was  outlawed,  and  had  seized  his  goods, 
which  he  had  brought  into  the  faire,  tolling  him  out  of  the 
faire,  by  a  traine." 

And  toll  for  this,  may,  however,  mean — and  I  will  sell  this 
fellow  in  a  fair,  as  I  would  a  horse,  publickly  entering  in  the 
toll-book  the  particulars  of  the  sale.  For  the  hint  of  this  latter 
interpretation  I  am  indebted  to  Dr.  Percy.  I  incline,  however, 
to  the  former  exposition. 

The  following  passage  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  may  be  ad- 
duced in  support  of  Mr.  Steevens's  interpretation  of  this  passage: 
"  Come,  thou  shalt  go  to  the  wars  in  a  gown, — and  I  will  take 
such  order  that  thy  friends  shall  ring  for  thee." 

Here  FalstafF  certainly  means  to  speak  equivocally ;  and  one 
of  his  senses  is,  "  I  will  take  care  to  have  thee  knocked  in  the 
head,  and  thy  friends  shall  ring  thy  funeral  knell."     Malone. 

*  J  "wonder,  sir,  since  wives  &c]  This  passage  is  thus  read 
in  the  first  folio : 

/  •wonder,  sir,  sir,  'wives  are  monsters  to  you, 

And  that  youfy  them,  as  you  swear  than  lordship. 

Yet  you  desire  to  marry. 

Which  may  be  corrected  thus : 

"  /  wonder,  sir,  since  wives  are  monsters,  &c. 
The  editors  have  made  it — wives  are  so  monstrous  to  you,  and 
in  the  next  line — swear  to  them,  instead  of — swear  them  lord- 
ship.   Though  the  latter  phrase  be  a  little  obscure,  it  should  not 
have  been  turned  out  of  the  text  without  notice.    I  suppose 


398  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

And  that  you  fly  them  as  you  swear  them  lordship, 
Yet  you  desire  to  marry. — What  woman's  that  ? 

Re-enter  Gentleman,  with  Widow,  and  Diana. 

Dia.  I  am,  my  lord,  a  wretched  Florentine, 
Derived  from  the  ancient  Capulet ; 
My  suit,  as  I  do  understand,  you  know, 
And  therefore  know  how  far  I  may  be  pitied. 

Wid.  I  am  her  mother,  sir,  whose  age  and  ho- 
nour 
Both  suffer  under  this  complaint  we  bring, 
And  both  shall  cease,0  without  your  remedy. 

King.  Come  hither,  count ;  Do  you  know  these 
women  ? 

Ber.  My  lord,  I  neither  can,  nor  will  deny 
But  that  I  know  them  :  Do  they  charge  me  further? 

DiA.  Why  do  you  look  so  strange  upon  your 
wife  ? 

Ber.  She's  none  of  mine,  my  lord. 

Dia.  If  you  shall  marry, 

You  give  away  this  hand,  and  that  is  mine; 
You  give  away  heaven's  vows,  and  those  are  mine ; 
You  give  away  myself,  which  is  known  mine  ; 
For  I  by  vow  am  so  embodied  yours, 

lordship  is  put  for  that  protection  which  the  husband,  in  the 
marriage  ceremony,  promises  to  the  wife.     Tyrwhitt. 

As,  I  believe,  here  signifies  as  soon  as.     Ma  lone. 

I  read  with  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  whose  emendation  I  have  placed 
in  the  text.  It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  the  second  folio 
reads : 

/  tvonder,  sir,  wives  are  such  monsters  to  you . 

x  Steevens. 

'  shall  cease,]  i.e.  decease,  die.     So,  in  King  Lear: 

"  Fall  and  cease."     The  word  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in 
p.  391  of  the  present  comedy.     Steevens. 


sc.  in.         THAT  ENDS  WELL.  399 

That  she,  which  marries  you,  must  marry  me, 
Either  both,  or  none. 

Laf.  Your  reputation  [To  Bertram.]  comes 
too  short  for  my  daughter,  you  are  no  husband 
for  her. 

Ber.  My  lord,  this  is  a  fond   and  desperate 

creature, 
Whom  sometime  I  have  laugh'd  with :  let  your 

highness 
Lay  a  more  noble  thought  upon  mine  honour, 
Than  for  to  think  that  I  would  sink  it  here. 

King.  Sir,  for  my  thoughts,  you  have  them  ill 
to  friend, 

Till  your  deeds  gain  them  :  Fairer  prove  your  ho- 
nour, 

Than  in  my  thought  it  lies ! 

Dia.  Good  my  lord, 

Ask  him  upon  his  oath,  if  he  does  think 
He  had  not  my  virginity. 

King.  What  say'st  thou  to  her  ? 

Ber.  She's  impudent,  my  lord  j 

And  was  a  common  gamester  to  the  camp.7 

Dia.  He  does  me  wrong,  my  lord;  if  I  were  so, 
He  might  have  bought  me  at  a  common  price: 

7  a  common   gamester  to  the  camp.']      The  following 

passage,  in  an  ancient  MS.  tragedy,  entitled  The  Second 
Maiden's  Tragedy,  will  sufficiently  elucidate  the  idea  once 
affixed  to  the  term — gamester,  when  applied  to  a  female: 

"  'Tis  to  me  wondrous  how  you  should  spare  the  day 

•'  From  amorous  clips,  much  less  the  general  season 

"  When  all  the  world's  a  gamester." 
Again,  in  Pericles,  Lysimachus  asks  Mariana — 

"  Were  you  a  gamester  at  five  or  at  seven  V* 
Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

" daughters  of  the  game."     Steevens. 


400  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

Do  not  believe  him :  O,  behold  this  ring, 
Whose  high  respect,  and  rich  validity,8 
Did  lack  a  parallel ;  yet,  for  all  that, 
He  gave  it  to  a  commoner  o'the  camp, 
If  I  be  one. 

Count.        He  blushes,  and  'tis  it :  * 
Of  six  preceding  ancestors,  that  gem 
Conferr'd  by  testament  to  the  sequent  issue, 
Hath  it  been  ow'd  and  worn.     This  is  his  wife ; 
That  ring's  a  thousand  proofs. 

King.  Methought,  you  said,1 

You  saw  one  here  in  court  could  witness  it. 

Dia.  I  did,  my  lord,  but  loath  am  to  produce 
So  bad  an  instrument ;  his  name's  Parol les. 

Laf.  I  saw  the  man  to-day,  if  man  he  be. 

King.  Find  him,  and  bring  him  hither. 

Ber.  What  of  him  ? 

He's  quoted  for  a  most  perfidious  slave,9 


a 


•  Whose  high  respect,  and  rich  validity,]  Validity  means 
value.     So,  in  King  Lear: 

"  No  less  in  space,  validity,  and  pleasure." 
Again,  in  Twelfth- Night  : 

"  Of  what  validity  and  pitch  soever."     Steevens. 

9  1m  it :]  The  old  copy  has — 'tis  hit.  The  emenda- 
tion was  made  by  Mr.  Steevens.  In  many  of  our  old  chronicles 
I  have  found  hit  printed  instead  of  it.  Hence,  probably,  the 
mistake  here.     Mr.  Pope  reads — and  'tis  his.    Malone. 

Or,  he  blushes,  and  His  fit.     Henley. 

1  Methought,  you  said,]  The  poet  has  here  forgot  himself. 
Diana  has  said  no  such  thing.     Blackstone. 

*  He's  quoted  for  a  most  perfidious  slave,]  Quoted  has  the 
same  sense  as  noted,  or  observed. 

So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  I'm  sorry  that  with  better  heed  and  judgment 
"  I  had  not  quoted  him."     Steevens. 


sc.  m.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  401 

With  all  the  spots  o'the  world  tax'd  and  debosh'd;' 
Whose  nature  sickens,  but  to  speak  a  truth : 4 
Am  I  or  that,  or  this,  for  what  he'll  utter, 
That  will  speak  any  thing  ? 

King.  She  hath  that  ring  of  yours. 

Ber.  I  think,  she  has :  certain  it  is,  I  lik'd  her, 
And  boarded  her  i'the  wanton  way  of  youth : 
She  knew  her  distance,  and  did  angle  for  me, 
Madding  my  eagerness  with  her  restraint, 
As  all  impediments  in  fancy's  course 
Are  motives  of  more  fancy;5  and,  in  fine, 


8 debosh'd;]  See  a  note  on  The  Tempest,  Act  III.  se.  ii. 

Vol.  IV.  p.  102,  n.  1.     Steevens. 

4  Whose  nature  sickens,  but  to  speak  a  truth:]  Here  the 
modern  editors  read : 

Which  nature  sickens  with: 

a  most  licentious  corruption  of  the  old  reading,  in  which  the 
punctuation  only  wants  to  be  corrected.  We  should  read,  as 
here  printed : 

Whose  nature  sickens,  but  to  speak  a  truth  : 
i.  e.  only  to  speak  a  truth.     Tyrwhitt. 

* all  impediments  in  fancy's  course 

Are  motives  of  more  fancy  ;]  Every  thing  that  obstructs  love 
is  an  occasion  by  which  love  is  heightened.  And,  to  conclude, 
her  solicitation  concurring  with  her  fashionable  appearance,  she 
got  the  ring. 

I  am  not  certain  that  I  have  attained  the  true  meaning  of  the 
word  modern,  which  perhaps  signifies  rather  meanly  pretty. 

Johnson. 

I  believe  modern  means  common.  The  sense  will  then  be 
this — Her  solicitation  concurring  with  her  appearance  of  being 
common,  i.  e.  with  the  appearance  of  her  being  to  be  had,  as  we 
say  at  present.  Shakspeare  uses  the  word  modern  frequently, 
and  always  in  this  sense.     So,  in  King  John  : 

" scorns  a  modern  invocation." 

Again,  in  As  you  like  it  : 

"  Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances. 

"  Trifles,  such  as  we  present  modern  friends  with." 

VOL.  VIII.  D  D 


402  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

Her  insuit  coming  with  her  modern  grace, 
Subdued  me  to  her  rate :  she  got  the  ring ; 
And  I  had  that,  which  any  inferior  might 
At  market-price  have  bought. 

Dia.  I  must  be  patient  j 

You,  that  turn'd  off  a  first  so  noble  wife, 
May  justly  diet  me.6     I  pray  you  yet, 
(Since  you  lack  virtue,  I  will  lose  a  husband,) 
Send  for  your  ring,  I  will  return  it  home, 
And  give  me  mine  again. 

Ber,  I  have  it  not. 

King.  What  ring  was  yours,  I  pray  you  ? 


Again,  in  the  present  comedy,  p.  276:  " — to  make  modern 
and  familiar  things  supernatural  and  causeless." 

Mr.  M.  Mason  says,  that  modern  grace  means,  with  a  tolera- 
ble degree  of  beauty.  He  questions  also  the  insufficiency  of  the 
instances  brought  in  support  of  my  explanation,  but  adduces 
none  in  defence  of  his  own.     Steevens. 

Dr.  Johnson's  last  interpretation  is  certainly  the  true  one. 
See  p.  74,  n.  4 ;  and  p.  276,  n.  5.  I  think,  with  Mr.  Steevens, 
that  modern  here,  as  almost  every  where  in  Shakspeare,  means 
common,  ordinary ;  but  do  not  suppose  that  Bertram  here  means 
to  call  Diana  a  common  gamester,  though  he  has  styled  her  so 
in  a  former  passage.     Malone. 

6  May  justly  diet  me."]  May  justly  loath  or  be  weary  of  me, 
as  people  generally  are  of  a  regimen  or  prescribed  diet.  Such, 
I  imagine,  is  the  meaning.  Mr.  Collins  thinks  she  means — 
"  May  justly  make  me  fast,  by  depriving  me  (as  Desdemona 
says)  of  the  rites  for  which  I  lpve  you."     Malone. 

Mr.  Collins's  interpretation  is  just.  The  allusion  may  be  to 
the  management  of  hawks,  who  were  half  starved  till  they  be- 
came tractable.     Thus,  in  Coriolanus : 

" —  I'll  watch  him, 

"  Till  he  be  dieted  to  my  request." 
"  To  fast,  like  one  who  takes  diet,"  is  a  comparison  that  oc- 
curs in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.     Steevens. 


4tt  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  403 

Dia.  Sir,  much  like 

The  same  upon  your  finger. 

King.  Know  you  this  ring  ?  this  ring  was  his  of 
late. 

Dia.  And  this  was  it  I  gave  him,  being  a-bed. 

King.  The  story  then  goes  false,you  threw  it  him 
Out  of  a  casement. 

Dia.  I  have  spoke  the  truth. 

Enter  Parolles. 

Ber.  My  lord,  I  do  confess,  the  ring  was  hers. 

King.  You  boggle  shrewdly,  every  feather  starts 

you. 

Js  this  the  man  you  speak  of? 

Dia.  Ay,  my  lord. 

King.  Tell  me,  sirrah,  but,  tell  me  true,  I  charge 
you, 
Not  fearing  the  displeasure  of  your  master, 
(Which,  on  your  just  proceeding,  I'll  keep  off,) 
By  him,  and  by  this  woman  here,  what  know  you  ? 

Par.  So  please  your  majesty,  my  master  hath 
been  an  honourable  gentleman ;  tricks  he  hath 
had  in  him,  which  gentlemen  have. 

King.  Come,  come,  to  the  purpose :  Did  he  love 
this  woman  ? 

Par.  'Faith,  sir,  he  did  love  her;  But  how?7 


7 he  did  love  her;  But  how  ?]   But  hou  perhaps  belongs 

to  the  King's  next  speech : 

But  how,  how,  I  pray  you? 
This  suits  better  with  the  King's  apparent  impatience  and  soli- 
citude for  Helena.     Malone. 


404  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

King.  How,  I  pray  you  ? 

Par.  He  did  love  her,  sir,  as  a  gentleman  loves 
a  woman. 

King.  How  is  that  ? 

Par.  He  loved  her,  sir,  and  loved  her  not. 

King.  As  thou  art  a  knave,  and  no  knave : — 
What  an  equivocal  companion 8  is  this  ? 

F  iR.  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  at  your  majesty's 
comiLind. 

Laf.  He's  a  good  drum,  my  lord,  but  a  naughty 
orator. 

Dia.  Do  you  know,  he  promised  me  marriage  ? 

Par.  'Faith,  I  know  more  than  I'll  speak. 

King.  But  wilt  thou  not  speak  all  thou  know'st? 

Par.  Yes,  so  please  your  majesty ;  I  did  go  be- 
tween them,  as  I  said;  but  more  than  that,  he 
loved  her, — for,  indeed,  he  was  mad  for  her,  and 
talked  of  Satan,  and  of  limbo,  and  of  furies,  and  I 
know  not  what:  yet  I  was  in  that  credit  with  them 
at  that  time,  that  I  knew  of  their  going  to  bed  j 
and  of  other  motions,  as  promising  her  marriage, 
and  things  that  would  derive  me  ill  will  to  speak 
of,  therefore  I  will  not  speak  what  I  know. 

King.  Thou  hast  spoken  all  already,  unless  thou 

Surely,  all  transfer  of  these  words  is  needless.  Hamlet  ad- 
dresses such  another  flippant  interrogatory  to  himself:  "  The 
mouse-trap.     Marry,  how?  Tropically."     Steevens. 

•  — —  companion  — ]  i.  e.  fellow.  So,  in  King  Henry  VI. 
P.  II: 

"  Why,  rude  companion,  whatsoe'er  thou  be, 
u  I  know  thee  not."     Steevens. 


sc.  m.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  405 

canst  say  they  are  married :  But  thou  art  too  fine 
in  thy  evidence ; 9  therefore  stand  aside. — 

This  ring,  you  say,  was  yours  ? 

Dia.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

King.  Where  did  you  buy  it  ?  or  who  gave  it 
you? 

Dia.  It  was  not  given  me,  nor  I  did  not  buy  it. 

King.  Who  lent  it  you  ? 

Dia.  It  was  not  lent  me  neither. 

King.  Where  did  you  find  it  then  ? 

Dia.  I  found  it  not. 

King.  If  it  were  yours  by  none  of  all  these  ways, 
How  could  you  give  it  him  ? 

Dia.  I  never  gave  it  him. 

Laf.  This  woman's  an  easy  glove,  my  lord  ;  she 
goes  off  and  on  at  pleasure. 

King.  This  ring  was  mine,  I  gave  it  his  first  wife. 

Dia.  It  might  be  yours,  or  hers,  for  aught  I 
know. 

King.  Take  her  away,  I  do  not  like  her  now; 


9 But  thou  art  too  fine  in  thy  evidence;"}    Too  Jine,  too' 

full  of  finesse ;  too  artful.     A  Frencn  expression — trop  Jine. 

So,  in  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  celebrated  Parallel :  "  We  may 
rate  this  one  secret,  as  it  was,  finely  carried,  at  40001.  in  present 
money."     Malone. 

So,  in  a  very  scarce  book,  entitled  A  Courilie  Controversie  of 
Cupid's  Cautels  :  conteyningfiue  Tragicall  Histories,  fyc.  Trans- 
lated  out  of  French,  Sfc.  by  H.  W.  [Henry  Wotton,]  4to.  1578 : 
"  Woulde  God,  (sayd  he,)  I  were  to  deale  with  a  man,  that  I 
might  recover  my  losse  by  fine  force :  but  sith  my  controversie 
is  agaynst  a  woman,  it  muste  be  wonne  by  loue  and  favoure." 
p.  51.  Again,  p.  277 :  "  — as  a  butterflie  flickering  from  floure 
to  floure,  if  it  b&caught  by  a  childe  that  finely  followeth  it,"  &c: 

Steevbns. 


406  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

To  prison  with  her :  and  away  with  him. — 
Unless  thou  tell'st  me  where  thou  had'st  this  ring, 
Thou  diest  within  this  hour. 

Dia.  I'll  never  tell  you. 

King.  Take  her  away. 

Dia.  I'll  put  in  bail,  my  liege. 

King.  I  think  thee  now  some  common  customer.1 

Dia.  By  Jove,  if  ever  I  knew  man,  'twas  you. 

King.  Wherefore  hast  thou  accus'd  him  all  this 
while  ?  • 

Dia.  Because  he's  guilty,  and  he  is  not  guilty  ; 
He  knows,  I  am  no  maid,  and  he'll  swear  to't : 
I'll  swear,  I  am  a  maid,  and  he  knows  not. 
Great  king,  I  am  no  strumpet,  by  my  life ; 
I  am  either  maid,  or  else  this  old  man's  wife. 

[Pointing  to  Lafeu. 

King.  She  does  abuse  our  ears ;  to  prison  with 
her. 

Dia.  Good  mother,  fetch  my  bail. — Stay,  royal 
sir ;  [Exit  Widow. 

The  jeweller,  that  owes  the  ring,  is  sent  for, 
And  he  shall  surety  me.     But  for  this  lord, 
Who  hath  abus'd  me,  as  he  knows  himself, 
Though  yet  he  never  harm'd  me,  here  I  quit  him  :, 
He  knows  himself,  my  bed  he  hath  dehTd  ; 2 
And  at  that  time  he  got  his  wife  with  child  : 


1  ■    ■     customer — ]   i.  e.  a  common  woman.    So,  in  Othello : 
"  I  marry  her  ! — what  ? — a  customer!"     Steevens. 

•  He  knows  himself,  &c]  The  dialogue  is  too  long,  since 
the  audience  already  knew  the  whole  transaction ;  nor  is  there 
any  reason  for  puzzling  the  King  and  playing  with  his  passions  ; 
but  it  was  much  easier  than  to  make  a  pathetical  interview  be- 
tween Helen  and  her  husband,  her  mother,  and  the  King. 

Johnson. 


sc.  til.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  407 

Dead  though  she  be,  she  feels  her  young  one  kick ; 
So  there's  my  riddle,  One,  that's  dead,  is  quick : 
And  now  behold  the  meaning. 

Re-enter  Widow,  with  Helena. 

King.  Is  there  no  exorcist 3 

Beguiles  the  truer  office  of  mine  eyes ; 
Is't  real,  that  I  see  ? 

Hel.  No,  my  good  lord ; 

'Tis  but  the  shadow  of  a  wife  you  see, 
The  name,  and  not  the  thing. 

Ber.  Both,  both  j  O,  pardon ! 

3 exorcist — ]    This  word  is  used,  not  very  properly,  for 

enchanter.    Johnson. 

Shakspeare  invariably  uses  the  word  exorcist,  to  imply  a  per- 
son who  can  raise  spirits,  not  in  the  usual  sense  of  one  that  can 
lay  them.     So,  Ligarius,  in  Julius  Ccesar,  says — 
"  Thou,  like  an  exorcist,  hast  conjur'd  up 
"  My  mortified  spirit." 
And  in  The  Second  Part  of  Henry  VI.  where  Bolingbroke  is 
about  to  raise  a  spirit,  he  asks  Eleanor — 

"  Will  your  ladyship  behold  and  hear  our  exorcisms?" 

M.  Mason. 

Such  was  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word  in  our  author's 
time.  So,  Minsheu,  in  his  Dict.  1617:  "  An  Exorcist,  or 
Conjurer." — So  also,  "  To  conjure  or  exorcise  a  spirit.". 

The  difference  between  a  Conjurer,  a  Witch,  and  an  Inchanter, 
according  to  that  writer,  is  as  follows : 

"  The  Conjurer  seemeth  by  praiers  and  invocations  of  God's 
powerfull  names,  to  compell  the  Devill  to  say  or  doe  what  he 
commandeth  him.  The  Witch  dealeth  rather  by  a  friendly  and 
voluntarie  conference  or  agreement  between  him  or  her  and  the 
Divell  or  Familiar,  to  have  his  or  her  turne  served,  in  lieu  or 
stead  of  blood  or  other  gift  offered  unto  him,  especially  of  his  or 
her  soule: — And  both  these  differ  from  Inchanters  or  Sorcerers, 
because  the  former  two  have  personal  conference  with  the  Divell, 
and  the  other  meddles  but  with  medicines  and  ceremonial  formes 
of  words  called  charmes,  without  apparition."     Malone. 


408  ALL'S  WELL  act  v. 

Hel.  O,  my  good  lord,  when  I  was  like  this  maid, 
I  found  you  wond'rous  kind.    There  is  your  ring, 
And,  look  you,  here's  your  letter ;  This  it  says, 
When  from  my  finger  you  can  get  this  ring, 
And  are 4  by  me  with  child,  &c. — This  is  done : 
Will  you  be  mine,  now  you  are  doubly  won  ? 

Ber.  If  she,  my  liege,  can  make  me  know  this 
clearly, 
I'll  love  her  dearly,  ever,  ever  dearly. 

Hel.  If  it  appear  not  plain,  and  prove  untrue, 
Deadly  divorce  step  between  me  and  you  ! — 
O,  my  dear  mother,  do  I  see  you  living  ? 

Laf.  Mine  eyes  smell  onions,  I  shall  weep  anon : 
— Good  Tom  Drum,  [To  Parolles.]  lend  me  a 
handkerchief:  So,  I  thank  thee;  wait  on  me  home, 
I'll  make  sport  with  thee :  Let  thy  courtesies  alone, 
they  are  scurvy  ones. 

King.  Let  us  from  point  to  point  this  story  know, 
To  make  the  even  truth  in  pleasure  flow: — • 
If  thou  be'st  yet  a  fresh  uncropped  flower, 

[To  Diana. 
Choose  thou  thy  husband,  and  I'll  pay  thy  dower; 
For  I  can  guess,  that,  by  the  honest  aid, 
Thou  kept'st  a  wife  herself,  thyself  a  maid. — 
Of  that,  and  all  the  progress,  more  and  less, 
Resolvedly  more  leisure  shall  express : 
All  yet  seems  well ;  and,  if  it  end  so  meet, 
The  bitter  past,  more  welcome  is  the  sweet. 

[Flourish. 

4  And  are  — ]  The  old  copy  reads — And  it.    Mr.  Rowe  made 
the  emendation.    Malone. 


sc.  in.  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  409 

Advancing. 

The  king's  a  beggar,  now  the  play  is  done:* 
All  is  well  ended,  if  this  suit  be  won, 
That  you  express  content;  which  we  will  pay, 
With  strife  to  please  you,  day  exceeding  day: 
Ours  be  your  patience  tlien,  and  yours  our  parts  f 
Your  gentle  hands  lend  us,  and  take  our  hearts. 

[Exeunt.7 

*  The  king's  a  beggar,  novo  the  play  is  done:]  Though  these 
lines  are  sufficiently  intelligible  in  their  obvious  sense,  yet  per- 
haps there  is  some  allusion  to  the  old  tale  of  The  King  and  the 
Beggar,  which  was  the  subject  of  a  ballad,  and,  as  it  should 
seem  from  the  following  lines  in  King  Richard  II.  of  some  po- 
pular interlude  also : 

"  Our  scene  is  altered  from  a  serious  thing, 

"  And  now  chang'd  to  the  beggar  and  the  king.''* 

Malone. 
8  Ours  be  your  patience  then,  and  yours  our  parts ;]    The 
meaning  is  :  Grant  us  then  your  patience  ;  hear  us  without  in- 
terruption.    And  take  our  parts  ,•  that  is,  support  and  defend 
us.    Johnson. 

7  This  play  has  many  delightful  scenes,  though  not  sufficiently 
probable,  and  some  happy  characters,  though  not  new,  nor 
produced  by  any  deep  knowledge  of  human  nature.  Parolles  is 
a  boaster  and  a  coward,  such  as  has  always  been  the  sport  of  the 
stage,  but  perhaps  never  raised  more  laughter  or  contempt  than 
in  the  hands  of  Shakspeare. 

I  cannot  reconcile  my  heart  to  Bertram  ;  a  man  noble  with- 
out generosity,  and  young  without  truth  ;  who  marries  Helen  as 
a  coward,  and  leaves  her  as  a  profligate :  when  she  is  dead  by 
his  unkindness,  sneaks  home  to  a  second  marriage,  is  accused 
by  a  woman  whom  he  has  wronged,  defends  himself  by  false- 
hood, and  is  dismissed  to  happiness. 

The  story  of  Bertram  and  Diana  had  been  told  before  of 
Mariana  and  Angelo,  and,  to  confess  the  truth,  scarcely  merited 
to  be  heard  a  second  time.    Johnson. 


JEND    OF   VOL.    VIII. 


-  VOL.  VIII.  E  E 


■  • 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


ft'    APR 


DlgOHARfiE 

23  1979 


FEJ 


Form  L9-32m-8, "58  (5876s4)444 


PR 

2^1    Shgkq*r*arft  • — 

J63       As  you  like  it.; 

v.8       Alltg  ™n    That 

Ends  Well. 


2065 


PR 
2?53 
J63 
v.8 


BRANCH 

CALIFORNIA 

\RY 

9*.  CALIF. 


s 


A* 


' 


1*  V 


"Hi
Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "The plays of William Shakespeare; in twenty-one volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators, to which are added notes"

See other formats
