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m, i 




* 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. 


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


B 2 


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. 


V, f 



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. 


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. 


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 

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." 


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 Fair t 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 leave 9 
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. 


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


' 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 

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 ! 


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." 


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 sorts 5 
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. 


A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. 

Enter Rosalind and Celia. 

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 

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." 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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 

Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his 
three sons, 

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old 

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. 


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." 


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. 


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- 

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- 

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- 

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 ?" 


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- 

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 

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 

Shall we go, coz ? 

Cel. Ay : Fare you well, fair gentleman. 

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

Are all thrown down ; and that which here stands 

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 d y 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 
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 shorter 3 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. 


* 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 


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 

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. 


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. 


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 

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 
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 
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. 


sc. in. AS YOU LIKE IT. 37 

Di :e F. You are a fool : You, niece, provide 
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 ? 


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-ax 7 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 swashing 8 and a martial outside; 

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


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. 


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 

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 
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. 


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 
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. 


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- 

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 
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 heads 6 
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." 


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 ; 

9 Tis 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." 


* 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- 
Upon the sobbing deer. 

Duke S. Show me the place ; 

I love to cope him 4 in these sullen fits, 
For then he's full of matter. 

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


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 quail 8 
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 


Before Oliver's House. 

Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. 

Orl. Who's there ? 

Adam. What! my young master? O, my gentle 
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 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 
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. 


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. 


,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 years 9 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. 


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. 


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 

1 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. 


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 

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love 

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." 


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 folly 4 

That ever love did make thee run into, 

Thou hast not lov'd : 

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 

Wearying thy hearer 5 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 anight 7 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. 


* 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. 

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'nights t 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.". 


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." 


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 
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 
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. 



The same. 
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and Others* 


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 

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- 

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 

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, 

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. 


9 disputable ] For disputatious. Malone. 

60 AS YOU LIKE IT. act it. 


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


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. 


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." 


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. 


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." 


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." 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 

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." 


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." 



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 bravery 7 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." 


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 ?" 


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 
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 

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. 


' 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." 


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- 
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, 9 the 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. 


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 quick 3 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. 



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.^ 

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

** upon his backe 

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


sc. vii. AS YOU LIKE IT. 77 


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." 


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 
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- 
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. 


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 


A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Duke Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and 

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 argument 4 
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 
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. 


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. 


82 AS YOU LIKE IT. act ///. 

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



The Forest 

Enter Orlando, with a paper, 

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love : 
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. 

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" 


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. 


* 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 unexpressive 1 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." 

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. 


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. 


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 

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 egg y 
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. 


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 

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. 

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- 

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." 


Face was introduced by Mr. Pope. Malone. 

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


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. 

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." 


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. 


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 

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 

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'd 7 

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 Lucretia f s modesty. 

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

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


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. 

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 touches 1 dearest priz 9 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." 


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." 


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, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

" 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 

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 

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


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. 


So, in King Richard III : 

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


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. 


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." 


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 ." 


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." 


. 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. 


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. 


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." 


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. 


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. 


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 mouth 2 
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 Stationers 1 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. 


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 

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- 

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 

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 

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." 


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. 


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- 

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 


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 

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 removed 2 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." 


* 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." 

Again, in Chapman's version of the 24-th Iliad : 

" but lion-like, uplandish, and meere wilde." 


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 

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. 

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. 


May it not mean, unwilling to be conversed with? 


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 

" 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." 

* 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 

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 : 

" swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon." 


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. 


Perhaps we should read to a humour o/"loving madness. 


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. 


112 AS YOU LIKE IT. act in. 

Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo 

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. 


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. 


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. 


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 

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. 


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. 


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 


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 

" 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. 


sc.m. AS YOU LIKE IT. 117 

bachelor: and by how much defence 4 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 Windsor t 
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. 


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 sweet Oliver, 

O brave &c] Some words of an old ballad. 


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. 


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. 


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 

Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gen- 
tleman's saying. Malone. 

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." 


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 


The same. Before a Cottage. 


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 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. 


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 

Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he 

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." 


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 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 
question 5 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, athwart 8 the 

* much question ] i. e. conversation. So, in The 

Merchant of Venice: 

u You may as well use question with the wolf." 


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. 


So, in Northward Hoe, 1607: " melancholick like a 
iilter, that had broke his staves foul before his mistress." 


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 nares t 
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 nose t 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 


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 

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. 


m v AS YOU LIKE IT. 1.27 

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, at a 

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 : 


" 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" 


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. 


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 

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 


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. 


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. 


6 v What though you have more beauty,] The old copy 

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." 


K 2 

1 3a AS YOU LIKE IT. act in. 

You are a thousand times a properer man, 
Than she a woman : ,r fis 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. 


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 

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. 


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- 
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 8 
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd 

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 cause 9 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." 


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. 


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. 


The same. 

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques. 

Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better 1 
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." 


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; disable 4 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 

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." 


M i, AS YOU LIKE IT. 141 

Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not have 

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 age 1 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. 


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 doors 
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 

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 

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 

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. 10,13810,149 : 

" 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. 


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." 


I bejieve, by pathetical break-promise, Rosalind means a 
lover whose falsehood would most deeply affect his mistress. 


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 


" 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. 

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. 


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 ") J he JJJjJjJ 1 
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." 


150 AS YOU LIKE IT. act ir. 


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." 


Much! was more frequently used to indicate disdain. See 
notes on the first of the two passages quoted by Mr. Malone. 


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 

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." 


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 brain 3 
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 

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 kind 5 
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. 


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 
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 
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 
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. 


May not within an hour signify within a certain time? 


* 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." 


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." 

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 

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 I 3 

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 



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. 


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 

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." 


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. 


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. 


9 nor her sudden consenting ;] Old copynor 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 

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
feited to swoon, when he showed me your handker- 

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. 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 

Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle- 
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 

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. 

'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. 



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 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, 
Oliver, and Celia. 

Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the 
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. 


The author of The Revisal would read : 

As those that fear their hope, and knoiv theirs/ear. 


Perhaps we might read : 

As those that feign they hope, and know they fear. 


I would read : 

As those that fear, then hope ; and know, then/ear. 


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. 


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. 


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 

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." 


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. 


By the seventh cause, Touchstone, I apprehend, means the 
lie seven times removed; i. e. the retort courteous, which is re- 


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. 


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." 


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 

Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen- 

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 


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." 


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 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 i 1 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. 


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 


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 

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. 

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 

" And in thy breast inclosed bear'st her tender friendly 
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 

Orl. If there be truth in sight, 5 you are my 

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. 

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. 


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. 

[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 w T ith 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 

" 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. 


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 

With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. 

Jaq. Sir, by your patience ; If I heard you 
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 

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. 


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. 


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~ 
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. 


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. 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 
them t the invocation is nonsense ; and without the addition of 


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 y m , 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 


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. 


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. 


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] : 



" 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; 


but this charge is erroneous, for no such passage as that above 
cited 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. 





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 


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 

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. 


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.] The story of AWs ivell 
that ends fx>ell y 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 Shakspeare 1 s Plays, Vol. II. 



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. 






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." 


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 

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.** 

" 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 

" 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 

Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from 
her tears. 

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season 
her praise in. 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 livelihood 7 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. 


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 

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. 


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 tears 5 grace his remembrance 

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." 


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 

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" 


* 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 

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. 


I do not perceive so great a want of connection as my prede- 
cessors 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 ?" 


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 

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. 


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 been 4 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." 


* 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. 


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 

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. . 


226 ALL'S WELL act i. 


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 Senoys 5 are by the 
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue 
A braving war. 

1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. 

King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive 
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 
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 
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 

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. 


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.*' 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


We might, by a slight transposition, read 

So his approof lives not in epitaph, 
Approof certainly means approbation. So, in Cynthia* s Re- 

*' 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 , 
Thus 5 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. 


' whose judgments are 
Mere fathers of their garments;] Who have no other use 
of their faculties, than to invent new modes of dress. 


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, 
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 it 7 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." 




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. 


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." 

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 

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. 


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." 


* 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." 


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. 


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. 


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- 

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, 

" 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 
The corruption of this passage was pointed out by Mr. Tyr- 
whitt. For the emendation now made, I am answerable. 


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." 


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. 


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 

" 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, 

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 

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 j 8 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. 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. 


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." 


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. 


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 

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. 


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 
3 r outh, 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 
(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) 
Indeed, my mother ! or were you both our mo- 
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." 

' 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. 

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 strive 2 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." 

* Now I see 
The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
Your salt tears* head.] The old copy reads loveliness. 


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- 
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. 


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 
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. 


. 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 inclusive 1 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 receipt 3 

1 notes, whose faculties inclusive ] Receipts in which 

greater virtues were inclosed than appeared to observation. 


* 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." 

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 

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. 


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. 


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 

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- 

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'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 f bated, 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 
Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early. 

Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away 

Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 

Those y bated 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. 


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. 


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 gait y 
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. 


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. 


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 write 5 to her a love-line. 

King. What her is this ? 

Laf. Why, doctor she : My lord, there's one 
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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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 

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 

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." 


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. 


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." 


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." 


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, all 6 
That happiness and prime 7 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. 


This, in my opinion, is a very just and happy explanation. 


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. 


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 property 8 
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 
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 Ay y by my sceptre y 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 : 

Ay t by my sceptre t 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 

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. 


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." 


sc. ii. THAT ENDS WELL. 271 


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, 

" 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." 

" 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 Tom 1 s 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. 


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. 


274 7 ALL'S WELL 

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 

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 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? Lord, sir!" 

Cleiveland, in one of his songs, makes his Gentleman 

" Answer, O Lord, sir ! and talk play-book oaths." 


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 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 

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. 


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. 


* 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. 


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 ;-~- ." 


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 

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. 


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. 


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. 


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, 

" 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." 


sc. in. THAT ENDS WELL. 281 

0*er whom both sovereign power and father's voice 6 
I have to use : thy frank election make ; 
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to for- 

Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mis- 
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 

All. We understand it, and thank heaven for 

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 
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 
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. 

* laf. 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- 

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 
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 
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. 


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'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 
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 


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. 


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 

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 

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- 

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 

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 f or 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 

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 
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 
I'll send her straight away: To-morrow 9 
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. 


" 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 syghte y 
" 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 


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 copyfortune. 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 

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- 
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 

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 

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. 



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. 


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 


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- 
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 

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 deserve 9 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 
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." 


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, 

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 

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 ! 


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. 


306 ALL'S WELL act ui. 


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 
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. 


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. 


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. 


This emendation has also been recommended by Mr. Upton. 


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. 


308 ALL'S WELL act in. 


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. 


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." 


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 that 1 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, 


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- 
I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, 
That the first face of neither, on the start, 
Can woman me 2 unto't: Where is my son, I pray 

2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of 
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 

[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 

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. 

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. 

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 

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, 
His heart was not consenting to. 

Count. Nothing in France, until he have no 
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- 
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 
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 ." 


I have no doubt that still-piecing was Shakspeare's word. 
But the passage is not yet quite sound. We should read, I be- 

' 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. 


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. 


Were mine at once : No, come thou home, Rou- 

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. 


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. 


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 


Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. 

Enter Countess and Steward. 

Count, Alas ! and would you take the letter of 

Might you not know, she would do as she has 

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. 


* lack advice so much,"] Advice, is discretion or thought. 

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." 


sc. v. THAT ENDS WELL. 319 


Without the Walls OyfFlorence. 

A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Flo- 
rence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other 

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. 
W T here 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. 


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- 

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 

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 king 2 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. 


822 ALL'S WELL act m. 

Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth ; 3 I know his 

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. 

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. 

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 

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 brokes 6 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. 


324 ALPS WELL act in. 

That leads him to these places j 7 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. 



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 

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." 


See note on The Second Part ofK. Henry IV. Act I. sc. i. 


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. 


1 of 'his ] Old copy of this. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. 


* 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. 


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 Mons r 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. 


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 

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. 


1 ere we case him.~\ That is, before we strip him naked # 


* 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 
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. 



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 
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 counsel 5 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 

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 deny 6 
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. 


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 deed y 
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 


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. 


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 knotv y 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. 


_* chough* s language,] So, in The Tempest : 

" 1 myself could make 

" A chough of as deep chat" Steevens. 


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 


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 

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 

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 

We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him 

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 'em 5 that. 

2 Sold. So I will, sir. 

1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and 
safely lock'd. [Exeunt. 


Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. 

Enter Bertram and Diana. 

Ber. They told me, that your name was Fon- 

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 

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. 

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. 


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. 


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. 

Maj r 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 
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 window r ; 
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 

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 
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 


The Florentine Camp. 

Enter the two French Lords, an4 two or three 

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 

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- 

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. 


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 

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. 


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 

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 

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. 


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. 


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 

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. 



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 

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, 

" 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." 


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 fool 5 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. 


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." 


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 
poor 1 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. 

" 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. 


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^\c liaitkvistra., 
rfxo'iJ' orov xivr l <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. 


May we not suppose the former part of the letter to have 
been prose, as the concluding words are ? The sonnet inter- 

The feigned letter from Olivia to Malvolio, is partly proe, 
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. 


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, 


* 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. 

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.** 


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 y c in the MS. being taken 
for y r . 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 !" 


* 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- 

Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu 8 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 

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 


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. 


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 honesty 8 

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- 

and time revyes us : 

i. e. looks us in the face, calls upon us to hasten. 


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- 


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. 


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." 


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 
Again, ibid: J 

" and all things have their crotcn y 

" 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" 


sc. r. THAT ENDS WELL. 37 1 


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 
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." 


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- 

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. 


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. 


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." 


* 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. 


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. 


*. 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. 


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. 


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 

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 

" 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 ." 


:actv. THAT ENDS WELL. 373 


Marseilles. A Street 

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two 

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 
Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again; 
Go, go, provide. \Exeunt. 


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. 


* 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 !" 

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. 


7 Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I xioill stop my nose j 
or against any man y s 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 fortune 1 s y 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. 


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 

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. 


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. 

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, 

Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. 


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. 


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. 


" 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- 

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*'' 


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- 
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 

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, 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. 


392 ALL'S WELL act v. 

The last that e'er I took her leave 8 at court, 
I saw upon her finger. 

Ber. Hers it was not. 

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine 
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 took y &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. 


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 

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. 


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 

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, 
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- 
Both suffer under this complaint we bring, 
And both shall cease, 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 

Whom sometime I have laugh'd with : let your 

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- 

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 


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. 


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." 


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 

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 


Js this the man you speak of? 

Dia. Ay, my lord. 

King. Tell me, sirrah, but, tell me true, I charge 
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 

Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty 

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 

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 

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: 


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 

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. 


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 
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. 


4 And are ] The old copy reads And it. Mr. Rowe made 
the emendation. Malone. 

sc. in. THAT ENDS WELL. 409 


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.''* 

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. 




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